If you guys want to hit me for overloading you with this story, I apologize. XD

I very discreetly tried to establish a chronological setting for the fic in this chapter, not because I wanted to (I don't much like writing from a futuristic perspective) but because it was necessary for the book. Hope I don't confuse anyone.

Shout outs.

not important - If it makes no sense, then I guess I'm doing something wrong! XD I'm sorry! Hope I can clear some things up instead of just confusing you more...

Arin Ross - That's the best kind of reaction I could get, I think! Hope the rest of it continues to make you smile. Tempted to make Sam use an "I'm just composing poetry to myself," excuse...still might!

L'ange-Sans-Ailes - As you'll see in this chapter, there are some references to other ghosts, and more to come. :)

Galateagirl - Well now, I can't say for sure (heck, until I hit chapter 3 even I wasn't sure!), so you'll have to keep reading!

Crossover Fiend - I tell you, I am just mad about Casper. The references were Sam's hometown being Whipstaff (the name of Casper's home in the movie), and rather less obviously, the allusion to ghosts forgetting about their former lives, and the chill that follows ethereal Danny around. In the DP canon universe, as far as I know he's not particularly cold, but that aspect of Casper was a nice touch that I thought could lend something to Danny and Sam's interaction. I also unabashedly use the term "crossing over" in this chapter, which may have originated elsewhere, but that movie's where I first heard it. ;) As for the rest of your review, thanks, and I'm really glad that you think the characterization is okay. They're different in some ways, but at the core, I wanted them to be recognizable as the Sam and Danny we all know.

Soni - Oh, good. Thanks for the compliment and please enjoy chapter 5!

mrit - Alas, but you know me too well! I'd like to wear my DP shirt on Friday so we can thoroughly geek out, but I'm cosplaying. XDD

Kagome M.K. - Well, okay then. n.n;;

Estrelas

Chapter 5

by Shimegami-chan

Safe in her room at last, Sam sprawled out on her bed in purple pyjama pants and a tank top, opening a soda and placing it on the nightstand. The book had lain on the dresser throughout the evening, inconspicuous in its brown paper bag, and yet Sam had thought about it non-stop since she had arrived home, looking forward to the opportunity to tear it free and discover its secrets. She had a feeling, she knew that the answers she was searching for had to be somewhere in there.

Eagerly Sam unwrapped the package and balled up the paper to throw into the wastebasket before opening to the introduction, which was written in old-fashioned looking serif print. It didn't seem to contain anything relevant to ghosts, though, merely historical information on the founding of Amity, and descriptions of the various political powers throughout the years since the town had been established. Disappointed, Sam flipped further ahead in the book until she came to a section that interested her more:

Ghost Research

Despite centuries of research by ghost hunters, historians and journalists, even now it is hardly safe to assume that we really know a significant amount of information about these spooks. Because of their unpredictable nature, once making contact with a ghost, it is still extremely difficult to glean anything remarkable - the ghost may become violent, may be unwilling to provide information, or simply may be too out-of-touch with reality to offer anything of assistance, even if it is willing to do so.

What has been discovered, thanks to local research and fieldwork, has assisted greatly in the combat of malevolent ghosts in Amity Park. Difficult though it may be to admit that the spirits were once human, indeed at one point all ghosts seem to have been birthed from a human's passing, usually in the cases of accidental or violent death. A ghost becomes what it is when it has "unfinished business" in our world, often related to family. They are also frequently fixated upon one place or object at first, though this has not been the case with all known Amity hauntings.

Studies with captured specimens have indicated that with time, many ghosts simply forget what causes them to haunt the human world, and may become completely aimless, eventually devolving completely into purely instinctive, unthinking beings who are prone to lashing out at their surroundings.

Sam's heart stopped. Forgetting why they were still here? This sounded suspiciously like the problem Danny had described. Holding her breath, she read on.

It is believed that the significant hauntings and events described later in this book also pertain to this theory. Many of the local legends have been circulated for centuries, lending reinforcement to the idea that malevolence in ghosts does not completely emerge until they are decades or even centuries in age, when the items and people that originally tied them to this world are long since deceased or destroyed. Unfortunately, these concepts were not theorized until 1965, when renowned ghost hunters Jack and Madeline (Maddie) Fenton perfected a ghost containment system and were able to interrogate several of the town's most infamous spooks. In 1970, the Haunted Item Protection Act came into effect in order to prevent the destruction of afflicted areas and objects, thereby prolonging a ghost's "harmless" period.

Sam skimmed the rest of the page, looking for more information on the memory loss issue the author had described, but finding nothing. She didn't entirely know what to make of the information; it all seemed very plausible, but she was loathe to admit that Danny's fate was also sealed. He had said that he didn't know when he'd died or why he occupied this house in particular, right? If her house was registered under the Haunted Item Protection Act, she didn't know about it. But then again, Danny had also said that she was the first person he had revealed herself to.

Sighing, Sam moved ahead to the subsections on specific hauntings, trying to locate the story she had glimpsed in the bookstore about the Box Ghost. At well over four hundred pages, the volume was a little difficult to navigate, and the bunched-up print in this dim lighting made Sam's eyes ache. There didn't seem to be any sort of index or way she could locate a specific ghost by name, other than by reading the details of all the recorded scenarios in the second half of the book. Luck was with her, though, because as she flipped through it again, slower this time, the spectre's name leapt out at her from the top of one of the pages.

Sightings of the Box Ghost

While the Box Ghost has not been involved with any of the other significant incidents detailed in this section, it was for a time the most-sighted spook in town. Clad in overalls and a toque, its 'skin' has a bluish tinge. It is fairly human in appearance, outside of these traits, and had been haunting Amity Park for an indeterminate amount of time, traditionally within boxes. It is believed that this spirit has an attachment to boxes that has prevented it from following the normal expectancy for ghosts; when the box it is occupying is removed or destroyed, it simply moves on to another.

The Box Ghost is notable for being one of the specimens captured by the Fenton family in the mid-1960s, where it was interrogated at length for any information about its kind. Although the spirit was compliant, allegedly because it was being imprisoned in a square container, it was not able to provide any significant data. Instead, it seemed docile and fixated upon its containment, lending more proof to the theory about the loss of a ghosts' self-awareness over time. Unfortunately, the experiments on the Box Ghost were cut short due to a tragedy in the Fenton family (see page 315) and it eventually escaped from containment. It has not been sighted since 1976, when it was last seen in the company of the famous spook Inviso-Bill.

"That's it?" Sam said out loud, but considering the actions of the attic ghost, she wasn't entirely surprised that it was considered to be somewhat of a small-time player in the town's history. Rubbing her eyes to force away sleepiness, she turned the page, but the next section talked about a different ghost that Sam had never heard of, one named Youngblood. She continued forward in the book until chancing upon a page with the eye-catching headline, Attack on Axion Labs.

One of the numerous sightings of Inviso-Bill took place at Amity's primary technological research facility, Axion Labs, which stood in the centre of town until its closure in 2008. This particular incident on October 28, 1964 also concerned the animal nicknamed "The Ghost Dog", which disappeared shortly after that time. Reportedly, Inviso-Bill (up until that point classified as a largely harmless spirit) and the dog attacked the Labs in a poltergeist fashion, causing rampant destruction throughout the entire facility. It was speculated later that the dog had been haunting the area for some time, and perhaps might have been the spirit of one of the deceased guard dogs that originally protected the building. It is one of very few obviously nonhuman ghosts to be sighted in Amity and the only one with significant enough information to be indexed. The dog's famous companion Inviso-Bill has been seen in the Axion Labs vicinity numerous times since, though no other paranormal activity within the building has been accredited to it.

Sam frowned and continued turning pages, looking for the sort of profiles as had been written about the Box Ghost, but was unable to find any of relevance. She wished the book had photographs or even illustrations of the ghosts that would help her find one in particular, but had no such luck. Turning back to the index, she scanned the chapter titles for anything significant, but came up with nothing.

I'm going to have to get more information from Danny if I want to get anywhere with this, she realized. But Danny was in the cold, stuffy attic, and she was down here, wearing her comfy pyjamas and enjoying the breeze coming through the window. Asking the ghost anything was going to have to wait unless she was less pleasantly warm and tired.

Tomorrow.

Shifting a bit on the bed, Sam yawned and closed the book, letting it drop gently to the floor beside her bed. She turned over onto her stomach and muffled her face in the pillow, blocking out the dim glow of the bedside lamp. Yes, tomorrow seemed like an excellent idea...

When Sam awoke, it was to the welcoming smell of stewing tomatoes wafting up from the kitchen. Flopping over onto her back, Sam held one palm out to block the irritating sunlight streaming through the window, and used her other hand to alternately cover and rub sleep out of her eyes. The sun was already situated on her side of the house, meaning it was well into the afternoon.

Groaning, Sam rolled off the bed and hit the floor on all fours, almost tempted to stay down there on the carpet, where the obnoxious light could not reach her. But she was lying directly on top of Legends of Amity Park, and the sizable book's corners were jabbing painfully into her abdomen. Sam stumbled to her feet and out of the room, wisely grabbing the handrail to prevent herself from tumbling down the stairs.

In the kitchen, Grandma Manson was at the stove, stirring a pot of something that smelled delicious. Tomatoes in some kind of soup, she thought, and maybe zucchini too. She greatly appreciated the fact that Grandma was willing to cook and eat things that were also acceptable to her ultra-recyclo vegetarian granddaughter. "Morning."

"Afternoon, child," Grandma said with a playful wink. "I thought the smell of food might bring you down."

"You know me too well," Sam laughed.

The elderly woman ladled some soup into a bowl and handed it to Sam, who accepted it gratefully and sat down at the table. A moment later Grandma sat down with her own serving of the broth and both ate eagerly, enjoying the hot meal. "This is excellent," Sam said around a mouthful of zucchini, suddenly very awake after all.

"Thank you, dear. You look like you're feeling a lot better today," her grandmother added, inspecting Sam's face. "Brighter than usual."

"Is that so?" Sam had to admit that she wasn't feeling as lethargic as usual. Maybe the small-town air was having more of an effect on her than she'd realized.

"Absolutely." Grandma smiled, and Sam smiled back, running a hand through her short black hair. "What are your plans for today?"

"Oh...I don't know," the teenager replied thoughtfully. Other than talking to Danny, I didn't really have much in mind.

"How about we do something fun today?" her grandmother suggested. "Anything you like. Shopping, sightseeing, dinner...you name it. My treat."

Sam grinned ecstatically. "Really, you mean it? I think the furthest I've been from the house so far is the grocery store!"

"That's exactly what I mean," Grandma laughed. "If you're feeling up to it, we can go out right after I come back from my hair appointment. Okay?"

"Yeah!"

The older woman stood and brought her bowl to the sink, running hot water over it before putting it into the dishwasher. "I shouldn't be gone more than an hour or so, so you use that time to get yourself cleaned up, dear."

"That's fine." Sam also stood and cleared away her bowl and spoon. That should give me just enough time to get ready and then talk to Danny. Perfect. As her grandmother left the kitchen, Sam focused her vision on the front lawn as seen through the window, thinking about what to ask that could give her information to look up in the book. Ghost name, if he had one...incidents where he'd been spotted by humans...maybe she could even use the information about the Box Ghost to jar his memory.

She was still standing at the window when Grandma reappeared in the doorway with her purse. "Are you all right, Samantha?"

"Oh...yes, I'm fine," Sam assured her, startled out of her thoughts. "Just looking...outside. Nice day out."

"Ah. Well, I'm heading off now, so I'll see you at three?"

Sam nodded in reply. "Okay, see you then." She waited until the door clicked and she heard the sound of her grandmother's car starting before heading to the bathroom to clean up, a little shocked at how unkempt she looked in the mirror. Running a brush through her hair, Sam made a tiny ponytail at the crown of her head and fastened it with a green clip, as was her usual style at home. Then she returned to her room to change her clothes.

Not wanting to spend so much time getting ready that she wouldn't be able to talk to Danny, Sam pulled on a black t-shirt that slightly showed her midriff and a black skirt with a green crosshatch pattern. She located her purple stockings and accessorized with black wristbands before generously applying eyeliner and a touch of purple lipstick. She then peered into the vanity mirror, satisfied that once again she looked like her old self.

Sam checked her watch as she headed downstairs to put on her boots. 2:15...that's plenty of time. Glancing out at the empty driveway one last time, she laced up her combats and scuffed them on the rug before proceeding up the stairs and onto the clean white hallway carpet. On the ceiling, the cord attached to the hatch dangled in the air, and she grabbed it and pulled hard, steadying the fold-down stairs with her free hand. The blackness of the attic yawned invitingly.

Unloading the stairs, Sam steadied herself on the handrail and began to climb, reaching for the lightswitch almost before she had gained footing on the third floor. She snapped the old-fashioned switch to one side and let yellowed light fill the expansive room.

No movement. Sam got to her feet and straightened uneasily until her head was just under the low ceiling, worriedly glancing at the Box Ghost's corner, and more than a little relieved to see his silvery crate just where she'd left it. Danny wasn't in sight either, though she hadn't really expected him to be, given what he'd said the day before about staying invisible all the time. She peered into the darkened east end of the room.

"Danny?"

...and no answer. Moving slowly and as quietly as possible, Sam followed the narrow path over to the duct-taped box where she'd imprisoned the other ghost. It was overly warm on this side of the attic, which was out of the ordinary (not that she'd spent that much time up here, Sam thought to herself, but it was the first time that the area over the second-floor bathroom and first-floor kitchen hadn't been freezing), and, she quickly realized, evidence that there was no ghost in her immediate vicinity. Weird.

Sam turned around, and spotted something glowing in the corner opposite from where she stood, the area where all the furniture was. Anxiously she made her way back across the attic to the space lit by the window, only to stop short when she approached the place where she had left Danny the day before. There was the wooden kitchen chair, the stout oak table, the armchair and the loveseat...and there was the ghost, facedown on the sofa, solid and unmoving. For a split second, she worried that he might be hurt or dead - but no, that didn't make sense.

Was he sleeping? Did ghosts even sleep? Gingerly Sam stepped closer and put a hand on Danny's shoulder, shaking him gently. His body was devoid of heat, though not as icy cold as he'd seemed when he was intangible. She wondered if that was a ghost thing, or just the effect of the sunlight coming through the window, which was significantly clearer and brighter than she remembered it. She shook him again, calling his name.

"Danny? Are you all right?"

Still he didn't move. Steeling herself, Sam took the ghost boy by his shoulders and rolled him onto his back, surprised at how light he was. He definitely weighed something, but it wasn't very much. Unfortunately, once she had turned him over, she discovered that it was no easier to tell whether something was wrong with him from this position, because he neither moved nor breathed.

Which, Sam reflected, was probably quite normal for him...but it was still a little freaky for her.

She reached out and laid one palm flat on his chest, as if to feel for a heartbeat, deciding to try speaking to him one more time. "Danny, wake up."

He jolted and his eyes flew open, their eerie glow seemingly intensified despite the sunlight on his face. "What!"

"Gaaaah!" Sam leapt back, almost falling over the table. "Holy--!"

"Sam?" Danny was on his feet immediately and caught her outstretched arm. "Whoa, where did you come from?"

"Ah-" Sam steadied herself and shook hair out of her eyes. "Where? I don't know, I came from downstairs? You were facedown on the couch like you were--" She cut herself off before she could say the tactless words. Dead, or something. "Asleep."

"Oh. Oh, I did that again." Squeezing his eyes shut - Sam was relieved to see that their brilliant glow had subdued - Danny ran a gloved hand down his face. "I'm sorry, I tend to just space out sometimes - I wonder how long-?"

"No idea. I last saw you yesterday evening," she told him, suddenly very conscious of the way his other hand was curled around her wrist, even though she was no longer in any danger of falling.

"That's not too bad, then." He opened his eyes and looked at her with a sheepish smile.

"I'm pretty sure that sometimes when I do that, I'm out for months. Good thing you came."

"Good thing you were solid," she replied, thinking about the things the book had said about ghosts slowly 'losing touch' with reality.

"Yeah, that's still a bit weird for me. I'm not used to doing it for so long at a time anymore...when you leave, I think I'll go intangible again. It's just more comfortable."

"I guess that makes sense."

He looked almost embarrassed, as though he'd admitted something terrible, and changed the subject. "But anyway, look what I've done! Just in case you decided to come up and visit every once in a while."

She followed his gaze to the armchair and noticed that the plastic was gone, neatly folded on the floor between it and the loveseat, which was also uncovered. Both had been draped with blankets. The table, too, had been cleared of dust, as had the floor, and belatedly Sam realized that this was why the sunlight was so much brighter; because the grime had been wiped from the glass. "You've cleaned up the place," she told him.

"Yeah," he admitted with a grin. "You seemed to be having a hard time with the dust, so I got rid of it. Here, have a seat."

"Thank you," she said genuinely, and suddenly his cool hand was on her back, guiding her to the sofa. "Ah-"

"Sorry if I'm cold," Danny apologized, pulling away quickly.

"No, don't worry about it." Sam sat down and arranged the quilt around her shoulders.

"You're not even as cold as you were yesterday."

"I guess because I've been solid all day," he replied, sitting down on the armchair opposite her. "I couldn't even begin to try to speculate on the physics of that, but it probably has something to do with the fact that when I'm intangible or invisible, I displace the air somehow, and it makes it chilly. When I'm solid, I think I kind of soak up the temperature of the air."

She thought about this for a moment, and it didn't really make much sense, but then again, most of this ghost stuff was pretty new and incomprehensible to her. "I see."

He looked away, wearing a sheepish expression. "To be honest, I wasn't really sure if you'd come back. But I'm glad you did."

"Me too."

"Really?" His head shot up and he studied her face, as if looking for some sign that she was deceiving him. "Why?"

"I still want to find out more about you," she replied sincerely. "Actually, I'd wanted to ask some questions, too, because I found this book with a lot of ghost information, and I thought you might be mentioned in it."

"Oh, sure." He leaned forward again and propped his chin up on both hands. "Ask away!"

"All right." Sam shifted her weight so that she was leaning against the armrest of the sofa, the quilt spread out over her lower body. Thankfully it was no longer as cold up here, even with the air conditioner venting on its way down throughout the house. She wished she'd given more thought to the things she wanted to find out about Danny. "First, do you have a ghost name? Like the Box Ghost?"

"Hmm." He tilted his head, expression serious. "I did...I do. It was...what was it...?"

"You don't remember?"

"I kind of do. It was based on my real name, it was Danny-something..."

Well, that's still more of a clue than I had before, Sam thought to herself.

"Phantom!" he said, looking proud and a bit relieved that he'd been able to recall it. "My name is Danny Phantom."

"How inconspicuous," she teased.

"Bah."

She filed that information away in her head and thought about the other topics in Legends of Amity Park. "Let's see, that should help, but what else...oh yes, the book I found has a lot of information on specific hauntings and ghost-related events. Were you ever involved with anything like that?"

"If I was, I don't really remember it...I think I must have been at some point, because I can recall the faces of lots of other ghosts, even though I haven't seen anyone but the Box Ghost in decades. Names, faces...but I don't really remember how I know them; what events brought me to meet them. I can't even figure out why I don't remember anything."

"The book said that ghosts often lose track of reality and forget why they were still even in the human world," Sam told him quietly, studying his face for a change in expression. Danny simply hmmed and closed his eyes as though trying to focus. "Do you think that's what's affecting you? It said that as time passes, a ghost becomes less and less tied to what it was haunting."

"What was I haunting?" Danny wondered out loud. "It can't be something in the attic, I'm sure I'd know about that."

"Maybe it's just the attic, or the house itself," Sam said nervously. If he couldn't remember what he was here for, how long would he last before he ended up a destructive poltergeist? She didn't want to think about the idea that he might be a danger after all.

He was alerted to the change in her tone and met her eyes again, searching them with his own. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"I don't believe you."

"Geez," she muttered, a little annoyed at his stubbornness. "I was just thinking about what the book said again."

"Which was?"

"It...insinuated that once a ghost starts losing its memory, that's a sign that it's degenerating. That the other ghosts they studied all became destructive after they lost touch with what they were haunting."

He looked horrified. "All of them?"

"Yeah."

"I...somehow, I knew that," he said quietly, averting his eyes again. "The ghosts in this town aren't exactly friendly. I knew they'd all probably been like me once, and then lost it, taken over by their bitterness...but I never believed it could happen to me."

"Why not?"

"I don't know. I just...wasn't like them; I never got my kicks from terrorizing children or attacking old ladies. I was never vengeful."

But they say that vengefulness is one of those things that comes with age, for a ghost, Sam thought, though she dared not say it aloud. Danny already looked extremely distressed to the point where he was slightly translucent, as though he could not concentrate enough to keep up the appearance of solidity. "I understand. You're not a typical ghost."

He looked at her, expression pained. "Sam, please believe me when I say I would never do anything to hurt you or your family. I'm not dangerous, and I never will be, even if my memory fades."

She nodded. "I believe you. I promise." But at the back of her mind, doubt still lingered, as though her common sense was trying to insist that even if Danny didn't want to be dangerous, that didn't mean he never would. Even if it was far beyond her lifetime, he could still become just another wandering spook, and put the occupants in this house in mortal peril. But she found that the mere thought of such a thing filled her with dread, and she pushed it away, instead focusing on calming Danny down. "Listen, don't freak out about it. Knowing that these things happened to other ghosts may even prevent you from becoming like them, right? Maybe if we can jog your memories, we can put an end to those worries. If you know what you're here for and keep on it, you'll be safe, or you might even cross over."

"Cross over?"

"You know...leave the human world, go on to a better place or whatever you believe in. I thought that once a ghost came to terms with itself, it could pass on peacefully."

"I don't know, maybe you're right," Danny replied. "Not all people become ghosts, so I guess they have to go somewhere. And...you'll help me?"

"Of course!" she assured him with a smile. "I'll do my best. I know it may sound weird...because of what you are, and we've only known each other for a few days...but I really want to get to know you, and help you if I can."

"You're a really great friend." he told her, making her heart jump. His smile was back and so luminous - figuratively - that she almost forgot again that he was a ghost, that he still very possibly a danger, and even if not, that he was probably going to be gone out of her life before she ever had the chance to appreciate him. But when he smiled, she couldn't think about anything else other than how making him happy made her happy too.

"Thanks...I guess it sounds kinda dorky to say it, but I'm glad you think so. I don't really have many friends."

"We're even."

She laughed loudly, nervously, and hoped he couldn't see the redness in her cheeks. Unbelievable...my first real friend turns out to be an apparition. My parents would hit the roof.

"Samantha...?"

Jolted, she came back to reality just in time to see a head and shoulders appear in the entrance. "Grandma!"

In an instant, Danny was gone, and the armchair appeared empty. Worriedly, Sam tried to backtrack the last few moments of conversation, wondering if the elderly woman had heard anything, barely aware of own response. "What are you doing up here? You shouldn't be climbing those stairs!"

"I was worried when I couldn't find you, dear." There was evident concern in Ida's face, and Sam's stomach felt like it was being slowly filled with lead. "I'm home a bit early."

"Oh, well," Sam got to her feet, glancing one last time at Danny's chair. "I just came up here to straighten up a bit, you know, dust and clean, because it's so messy..."

"I see...are you ready to go out, then?"

"Oh, yeah," the teenager said hurriedly. "Absolutely. I can...finish this later." She left the quilt in a pile on the sofa, nervously running both hands through her hair. Around her, the temperature of the air had dropped slightly, and as she approached the stairs she felt a wisp of something on her shoulder, and a quiet voice in her ear.

"I'm sorry. We'll talk later?"

Sam could only nod in reply. With attention focused elsewhere, she shivered at the strange sensation of Danny's ethereal hand on her, unable to see him as he winced at the reaction and sharply withdraw, wishing suddenly that he were anything but himself.

-to be continued...

A/N: Oh, Danny! ;o;