A/N:I know I said I was going to change the summary, but quite a few people suggested that I leave it, so it's gonna stay. Instead, I'll put a few details about the story here, for anyone who wants to read them.

The Phantom Prince is an AU fic, rated T for safety and possibly darker themes and character death to come. It's centered around the idea of a key thing being different about DP- something I'm sure many of you have guessed already- and will definitely deviate from the original DP storyline.

Thanks for reading and all of the love you've given my story so far! Enjoy :) ~IM

Disclaimer: Nope, still don't own it, just the plot

Chapter One: It Began with a Plan

The girl sighed as she drifted out of the classroom, her companion not too far behind her. It was shaping up to be another horribly long school day, and the droning voice of Mr. Scales wasn't exactly helping the fact that she knew that the weekend was still a day and a half away; Math might've been one of her favorite subjects, but she still hated the hour-and-a-half of lecture and English before that had been a pain. At least they were already halfway done with Thursday, now, and Tucker had said something earlier about planning a 'weekend o' fun' for the three of them.

Whoop-de-freakin' doo.

Who knew high school could be so dreary. Wasn't it supposed to be the peak of your life, or something? Two weeks and she was already sick of it—and this coming from a girl who wore black every day. The only highlight of it all was that her two best friends in the whole world were with her in this prison of a school….

Well, on the bright—I mean, dark—side, they'd been let out early by their teacher; that left plenty of time before lunch for something that had been nagging her since about 8 AM that morning, when a certain dark-haired boy had rushed in—five minutes late—to Mr. Lancer's class looking flustered, out of breath, and a little bit like he'd slept in his jeans and favorite white t-shirt the night before.

"Danny, are you okay?"

At the half-hearted glare she received, Samantha Manson—self-proclaimed goth geek, recyclo-vegetarian and also, most importantly, Daniel Fenton's best friend—couldn't help the sheepish grin that formed in reply. Sometimes her fellow teen could be a little touchy about that particular sentiment. "Sorry, you know me—."

"Yeah, standard question." Her friend finished, looking a little sheepish himself, though she caught the exasperation in his tone. "I'm fine, though. I didn't sleep well is all…." He rubbed the back of his neck, then, turning his head away as if to look down the hall for the missing member of their trio.

Sam didn't bother mentioning that it was still a good five minutes until pass, and that Tucker Foley's honors class wasn't one to let out before the allotted time was up. She didn't bother, because she saw right through his little ruse. Danny probably hadn't wanted her to worry, and now he was averting his gaze, trying to escape the piercing, violet eyes that knew him too well.

It really didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out when he was hiding something.

But it was hard not to worry, especially when she'd noticed the too-pale flesh of her childhood friend this morning; now that she could see him up close, the sickly tone of his skin made the dark circles under his clear, stunningly blue eyes stand out in sharp contrast. While Danny had said he hadn't slept well, his eyes said he hadn't slept at all.

Plus he'd been so weirdly jumpy this morning; he'd actually flinched when Lancer had yelled about being late, which caused Dash—local jerk and "king" of the freshman class—to mock him throughout the rest of the class period. Of course, that little incident could've been related to the Saturday detention he'd be serving for his third tardy in a row.

Still, any way you read it, the signs were clear—something was wrong with the fourteen-year old boy. He definitely wasn't feeling very well, either, if his worn expression was any indication. He really should've stayed home, today.

She scoffed at that. Yeah, no kidding. Understatement of the century. He looked like he was about to fall over any second, and Sam was trying—though not as hard as she could have—to cover up the fact that she was constantly watching him in case he did.

It was painfullyobvious, really, how sick Danny looked; even someone as regularly disappointed by the adult population as Samantha—who preferred Sam, thank-you-very-much—was surprised that no one, not even Danny's parents had done anything about it. She expected that from most of the students at Casper High, but come on, people open your eyes! Some days she felt like she was the only one looking out for the guy, Danny himself included.

She frowned. That wasn't right; whenever Danny relapsed into…whatever he had, his parents were always the first ones at his side. She couldn't count on her hand the number of times they had allowed him to go to school after he'd had one of his "episodes" during the night—because that number would be zero—and no one was more protective of the boy than Maddie, his mother. She could still remember clearly what had happened back in preschool, when the woman found out that Dash and a few other kids were teasing Danny about his medical condition; from that time on, the football star had hated the youngest Fenton and held a deep-rooted fear of all things green and foamy.

No, Mr. and Mrs. Fenton definitely cared about their son as much as—but certainly not more than—herself.

Then there was Jazz, Danny's brilliant, and a little overbearing, older sister. Sam knew better than anyone the lengths that Jazz would go to for her little brother—she still had a scar from the time the girl had pushed her down for bullying him in first grade. Sam was ashamed to admit it, but little her had been a bit of a follower at the time; hence her hate of all things popular, now. She'd cried, sure, and then a certain blue-eyed wonder had come to her aid; telling his sister off for "picking on kids that are little-er than you are."

Sam and Danny had been inseparable ever since.

But she had to admit, unless Danny was outright avoiding his family…. But Sam broke from her thoughts then, looking up sharply at the sound of her name.

"Hellooo, earth to Saaam? Space cadet, much? And I thought I was the one who wanted to be an astronaut." He paused, waiting for a laugh or a sarcastic remark that didn't come.

Instead, he fidgeted awkwardly under her scrutinizing gaze, and quickly turned back towards the hall. People were starting to leave their classrooms, now, and Danny had to talk a little above the noise to be heard. "Well, it's almost lunchtime…where could Tucker be…? Probably asking out all the girls in his class, ha, if he hasn't already."

He was grinning—weakly trying to look more like himself, really—but even though his eyes were more tired than amused, Sam couldn't help the frown that grew with her latest leap in logic.

"It happened again, didn't it?" There was silence. They both knew it wasn't a question. "Last night. You had a fit and you didn't tell your—."

"Sam, like I told you, I just—." He interrupted her, immediately detecting the hurt in her voice and trying to defuse the situation before it escalated. Obviously, Sam was upset, and an upset Sam—especially one that was angry with him—wasn't a good thing.

"—didn't get enough sleep? Yeah, like I really buy that." She glared at him, face impassive. She wouldn't let it go, not now that she thought she had it all figured out; she would never let it go, and they both knew it.

"Sam." He frowned. This could get out of hand if he didn't keep his cool; and he was pretty irritable from lack of sleep already. He took a deep, calming breath. "Like I said before, I'm fine, and perfectly capable of taking care of myse—." He cut himself off at the suddenly dark look that crossed her face.

So much for that idea.

"Danny." This was dangerous territory. Alarms were blaring in his brain. Maybe he should just admit she was right, apologize and save himself the trouble.

Of course, Danny could be just as stubborn as she, when he wanted to be.

"I told you, I'm fine." He snapped, and suddenly both of them were whispering furiously, fighting to be heard over the other while still keeping the topic of their conversation away from prying ears.

"Don't give me that, you know—."

"—know what—."

"—that you're supposed to tell your parents every time it happens! Do you think it's normal for people to just seizure in the middle of the night—."

"—you don't even know if I did! And, honestly, I think you're overreacting—."

"—overreacting? Overreacting? You're the one who—." Her voice rose a pitch in indignation, and several heads turned in the small crowd shuffling towards the cafeteria.

"—Sam!" Danny hissed, suddenly very conscious of the curious eyes that their little whisper match was starting to draw. "Please, just trust me." At her continuing glare, he sighed. He'd lost, but at least she was listening. "I'll tell you and Tucker at lunch, okay?"

Appeased, Sam dutifully shut her mouth—hardly containing the smug smile that was forming where a frustrated scowl had been seconds before. Neither of them seemed to notice an amused techno-geek—sporting a poorly hidden grin—waltz up in true, Foley fashion.

"Dude, the more I see you two lovebirds together, the more I think that you fight like an old married couple."

Several undignified sounds tumbled into the air before the unified response followed suit. "We are NOT lovebirds!"

"Alright, alright." Tucker held his hands up in a placating gesture, grin still firmly in place. Danny frowned at the slight twinkle in his eye but was glad his friend was finally out of class all the same. Though he'd lost his appetite sometime after Sam had figured him out, he still wanted to get out of the hallway and over to the "privacy" of their cafeteria table.

They walked through the double doors, settling into the long line that had formed already, and Sam and Tucker's idle chatter let Danny think a moment on how he was going to explain everything to his companions.

He hadn't intended to tell his two best friends about his dream just yet, or ever, but if Sam wanted the truth, he couldn't deny her. She and Tuck had been such good friends to him over the years, sticking by him when few others would; it was the least he could do to tell them—at least they'd know how much he trusted them.

He hadn't even told his parents. Not because he was afraid, he just couldn't face them, not after seeing the hate and fury that twisted their expressions in his dreams, and knowing that those images of his mother and father would be all he could see for at least the rest of the day if not his life.

It wasn't as though that particular dream was new; no, he'd had it loads of times, especially whenever he was sick. He just hadn't ever seen his pursuers before, and, while it didn't really scare him now so much as make him wonder what that dream could mean, he'd been a complete mess before coming to school.

When he woke up…he couldn't explain it. It was like something deep inside of him had been triggered in a primal reaction to his foggy dream-terrors. It wasn't really that he was afraid of anything in particular, not even his parents, it was just… he shuddered at the memory of the feeling. That feeling of sudden wrongness that made him want to jump out of his skin and away from everything he'd ever known.

Like an animal, he'd cowered in his room until the consuming, visceral fear gripping him became too much, causing him to run out the door—with no regards as to how deranged he must've looked—bolting from bed to school without explanation or stopping to check his appearance.

He vaguely remembered his mother calling to him, telling him that he didn't have to go to school if he didn't want to—she worried, but she trusted Danny to make smart decisions about his own health, too, which is probably why she let him go at all. He was glad for that; he didn't know what he'd do if she'd seen the wild, frayed look in his eyes before he'd managed to calm himself back down.

He sighed. All of these things weighed a bit heavily on his mind, but he had to try to push that away for now, at least so he could satisfy a certain goth girl. But though he was certainly going to tell Sam and Tucker about his dream and the fact that it was a recurring one—he'd promised, after all—that didn't mean he had to tell them what happened when he woke up.

And so he sat down at his usual seat with his usual friends, resolute on the fact that he would not, could not tell these two people he trusted more than anyone else exactly what he had felt this morning. Partly because he was truly afraid of what they might think of him if he did, and mostly because he feared the implications of what he'd felt if he admitted it aloud.

For when Danny had awoken that morning, clutching at his chest in horror, he had felt nothing thrumming beneath his icy fingers.

It was a beautiful day outside; the sun was shining, the birds were chirping, and all of Casper High could hardly wait to claim the picnic tables and soak in the warm autumn rays.

All except for a certain, close-knit trio of students-who believed their conversation more safely held indoors-that is.

One of the two boys of the group, busily eating away at his greasy, overflowing sloppy joe, was only half-listening to the serious conversation held by his two best friends growing up.

Not only was he hungry—and a man as strong and fine as Tucker Foley needed his food—but they were busy whispering about something that didn't really concern him. Something about Danny having a recurring nightmare, it felt so real, his parents were there, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah.

Now don't get him wrong; sure, he cared about his best friend-since-he-was-born's troubles, but he just couldn't see what was so troubling about them. Wasn't this, like, normal, or something?

Danny was a messed up kid, he and Sam both knew that; heck, they'd always known that, and Tucker thought it was a testament to their character that they were still valiantly loyal to their friend despite all the flack he received for his strange 'episodes,' as their counselor had called them, and even stranger family.

Rumors were constantly circulating around the retired ghost-hunters; people were cruel, after all, and oftentimes sneered that Danny had been some kind of experiment of his parents, and that all of his physical and mental maladies—like paranoia, obviously…who dreams that their own parents are trying to kill them, really—were some weird by-product of that.

Though Tucker would never peg the Fenton family as the "mad scientist" types, and certainly didn't believe the lies that he often heard in his honors classes—where Danny and Sam weren't around to take offense, and he was too afraid to speak up—he had to admit, there was some stock to them.

After all, the Fenton family had been famous—Amity Park's well renowned ghost experts and hunters-for-hire—and especially so during the First Ghost War, before Jazz or Danny or any of them were around. Then, almost immediately after Danny was born, they'd retired. They claimed that they simply wanted to return to researching and developing a peaceful way to deal with the ghost threat, that they'd had enough of fighting, were through with the Guys in White—a mysterious, government-funded organization known for its strict, no-tolerance policy regarding ghostly entities—and that was it. They walked out, and never hunted ghosts again.

But even Tucker knew that their sudden change of heart was strange.

According to his dad, the Fenton's had always expressed a deep hatred of ghosts—to the point of making other people in the room uncomfortable—and that wasn't something that just disappeared over night. Most people hated ghosts, due to the war, and the vast majority didn't even see them as anything more than a menace that needed to be destroyed; but the Fenton's had hated them the most.

And they had no qualms about helping the GiW rip every putrid piece of ectoplasm apart, molecule by molecule, for at least ten years.

Until Danny was born, that is. But why Danny's birth could've spurred such a change in his parents, Tucker would never know. But he could certainly guess.

He suppressed a shudder at a sudden memory of Danny, seizing in the middle of his eighth birthday party, mouth flecked with oddly green-tinged foam as his eyes rolled up into the back of his head. He'd been unable to look away, but horrified all the same; who wouldn't be, seeing for the first time the odd convulsions and silent screams of someone trapped within their own body?

One moment, they were all singing happy birthday, and Danny was told to make a wish; next thing he knew, an odd, genie-like ghost appeared out of nowhere. Tucker didn't see the ghost though, or the fight Danny's father and sister went through trying to trap it or chase it away.

All he saw was Danny, and his mother—sobbing, clutching and rocking her baby as he shook and twitched uncontrollably—and he had to stop eating for a moment to let his stomach settle at the thought of Jack Fenton suddenly bounding over, syringe in hand, and jamming a couple of milliliters worth of glowing ectoplasm into his son's jerking chest like a freaking EpiPen.

Tucker shook his head. No way could he eat after remembering that. If exposure to ghosts for some odd ten years or so could do that to your future kids, well, he respected their decision to leave the profession.

But it was strange…. He supposed he must have been the only one to see the little Fenton family drama-no one had ever brought it up before-and he hadn't thought anything of it at the time, but surely sticking ectoplasm into a human being wasn't a good idea…? But then, he also supposed that he shouldn't question the wisdom of two seasoned ghost experts, either. Maybe Danny had some kind of reaction to the stuff, and the introduction of more of it worked like anti-venom or something. He didn't know, his strong point was technology, not medicine. Still….

Tucker looked up from his meal; if he wasn't going to eat, he may as well tune back in to the conversation.

"Look, Danny, all I'm saying is, if you're afraid, what better way than to face those fears?"

"I didn't say I was afraid! And you're crazy!" Tucker grinned at Danny's indignant expression. He and Sam were sitting across from Danny, and the blue-eyed teen was looking to Tucker like he was desperate for a way out of whatever Sam was suggesting. "Come on, Tuck, tell her she's crazy."

"I dunno Danny, Sam's got a point; facing your fears is better than running away from them forever." Tucker's grin never faded. He might not know what it was they were talking about, but it was worth it for the priceless, wide-eyed expression his friend was wearing. Sam, on the other hand, was looking to Tucker with approval and just a hint of victory on her lips.

"Thank you, Tucker. See Danny?" Danny looked wholly unconvinced, but before he could open his mouth to say otherwise, Sam had already continued. "So it's settled, then. Tomorrow, Tucker and I are coming over and we won't be leaving until we've conquered your fear together." The disbelief in Danny's eyes was quickly morphing into abject horror, and suddenly Tucker didn't feel like messing with his friend anymore. What was going on?

"Um, Sam?"

"Yeah, Tuck?"

"How exactly are we gonna 'conquer' Danny's fear?" His stomach churned uneasily at the Cheshire-like glint in Sam's violet eyes. He really shouldn't have eaten the Mega Meaty sloppy joe today.

"Isn't it obvious?" At Tucker's dubious look, she continued, the innocent look on her face at odds with her words. "We're breaking and entering."