Disclaimer: I do not own Danny Phantom or any characters associated, nor am I making any money off of this.

Chapter Twelve

One day with Mrs. Roberta and her husband (who introduced himself in much the same way. "My name is Drake Roberta, and it would do you well to simply call me Mr. Roberta or sir." Although, it was quite obvious who was wearing the pants in their family . . .) was another thing to add onto my extensive list of 'things that would ensure me happiness in the next life.' Which was a really redundant list to have, in retrospect, given the whole ghost thing.

Mrs. Roberta always looked angry whenever Toby or Emma talked about the glories of owning your very own personal freak. Neither used those exact words, pray tell, and if they had, I would've thrown up, to heck with the Persian carpet - but they said some pretty things that made me come pretty dang close.

I avoided talking. I wasn't sure why they had sent me on this insane mission. Even if I'd tried to partake in all this 'advertisement,' my throat would've closed up, and, well, the whole thing would be a bust. For the most part, and I was exceptionally glad about this, Mrs. Roberta ignored me. I tried not to look into her eyes, because that haunting expression, whatever it was, lingered there. I knew I'd seen it somewhere; but I just couldn't quite place it.

Then, around six the evening after we got there, she looked right at me and asked, "Why're you so quiet, kid? I've fed you well enough today -" For the record, we'd all been given a piece of un-toasted day-old bread and half a glass of lukewarm water. "- and let you lot sleep in our guest bedroom -" Which had one double bed. I ended up sleeping on the floor. "- and you've just been sitting here -" She'd 'asked' us to fix dinner for she, Mr. Roberta, and this Petra girl, do the dishes, and clean the bathroom. And how could we refuse, right? "- not even spouting off any of this crap that your little friends have." Do I need to alert the general populace that this was shaping up to be a week-long Cinderella story? Without the prince?

But at the time, I was scared rather senseless. "I - uh - well," I sputtered, and Toby stepped in without missing a beat.

"Danny is relatively new to this line of work, ma'am. And he's had a recent illness which has seriously affected his voice - but he insisted on coming, because he really thought he could help spread the word. He's really just as stupid as any of us," he said.

I couldn't help but think he'd make a good lobbyist.

Mrs. Roberta's scowl deepened, and she shot me a glare that made me shrink as far back in my seat as I could, given that I was on the floor. "You shouldn't've done that," she said. "Just gives me more work, freak." I saw Emma visibly wince. Mrs. Roberta tilted her head, slightly, and her eyes narrowed. "What is it you do, anyway? You never said."

"I'm, um, well, half . . ." I paused, and inhaled. "I'm kind of sort of half ghost."

There was a long pause. Mrs. Roberta's eyes widened. "You're the boy from Amity Park! You were on the news, I recognize you now!" Toby raised an eyebrow, amused, and Emma shot me a look that said 'again?'

I hoped and hoped that she'd be like Mrs. Kilpear and drop the act as soon as she found out who I was. No such luck.

"I can't believe you're . . . urg! If it weren't for you and your insane parents, Mills wouldn't be so . . . So . . ." She stood up, pointing an accusing finger at me and moving steadily closer.

Maybe Mrs. Garner chose wrong, I thought, frozen in terror. You know, she could kill me now and it wouldn't even matter to anyone . . .

"YOU RUINED MY HOME!" she screamed. "Look outside!" She stormed over to the window and threw the curtains open, which had been closed for 'privacy reasons.' I leaned in, slightly, to look, to scared to do anything but disobey. Just what I could see was in total disarray. Nothing was smoking, and nothing could really be called destroyed . . . But the streets were dirty, and things just seemed bleak. And it was obviously a pretty upper-class neighborhood, too.

I realized two things right then and there. One, Amity Park hadn't been the only town affected by the ghost invasion. It had spread to other neighboring cities . . . and I hadn't been there. The overwhelming feeling of being a hero came rushing back to me, more powerful than any mind-numbing, memory-killing drug could suppress.

Two, well, I recognized the element that so effectively took over her expression.

It was hate.

And hate, well, I could deal with hate. I remembered, suddenly, what being hated felt like. I'd been hated for so long, by so many people . . . I guess I'd gotten used to the stoic, relatively desolate atmosphere back at Mt. Ivory, and seeing it again horrified me, even if I hadn't recognized it at first.

"How many?" I asked, my voice even, my eyes hardening with my old heroic resolve. I stood up.

She faltered, obviously expecting me to stay curled up on the floor. "Huh?"

"How many cities have been affected, ma'am?" I asked, careful to add emphasis on the last syllable, while still keeping out the sarcasm I so desperately wanted to shove in.

"Um . . ." I noticed Toby and Emma, in my peripheral vision, looking decidedly worried.

"About four," she said, slightly meeker than before, but her speech was still laced with malice. "Millsville, Andromeda Springs, Goldview, and Humingburg."

Four cities like this. Four cities practically no longer inhabitable because I was too caught up in my own little world, my own insignificant problems to notice. I gasped suddenly, half grateful that my old emotions had returned to me, and half in pure panic mode.

I. Had. Failed. All that work, all that lack of sleep, all those lectures about how I'd never become an astronaut with my grades, all my sacrifices. And I'd still failed. I hadn't been enough to protect everyone. Ghosts - they were my responsibility, they shouldn't be anyone else's.

And now, I was here. Standing in the living room of some bigoted middle-aged bat wearing freaking penny loafers.

I started to outright hyperventilate. If what happened next hadn't happened, well, I'm pretty sure I would've flown outside and gotten myself killed.

Guess. I'm pretty sure it's impossible. But what I viewed at the time to be the first step to my redemption came careening through the window at twenty miles and hour and crashed straight into me, pushing me back a couple of feet. The miniature cannonball pulled itself off of me and I stepped back to look.

"I AM THE BOX GHOST! AND I HAVE COME TO YOUR HOME TO WREAK MY DUCT-TAPED FURY UPON YOU -" He paused, only briefly - time enough to see me, apparently, because he finished his usual rant in little more than a squeak. "- while the ghost child has no chance of stopping me?" I felt a distinct tug of misplaced aggression.

My eyes widened significantly, but my breathing slowed. I knew what it was I had to do, and, for once in my life, I was glad to do it. My human form fell nearly instinctively into a relaxed battle stance, the effect much more frightening with my new lack of wimpy-ness and my bizarrely glowing skin.

At this point, Mrs. Roberta had collapsed in a dead faint next to the window, Toby and Emma had backed out of the room entirely, and little Petra, a much braver soul than I gave her credit for, had run down the stairs and was now crouching on the stares to watch.

"Buh-bye, Boxy," I said, smirking. Reaching deep inside of myself to that place only I knew existed, I took a deep breath and pulled it out. A familiar cold sensation washed over me, and that was it. Danny Phantom was back.

The Box Ghost, having become rooted to the spot, a blatant mixture of shock and fear on his face, was an easy target. A well-aimed, precise ectoplasmic energy beam hit him square in the chest, and he was sent flying backwards through the wall. He only barely became intangible in time to not cause some serious property damage. I flew out, unthinking, after him.

Now he'd finally gained some of his usual unwavering stupidity back. "I AM THE BOX GHOST! TREMBLE, PUNY CHILD, FOR I SHALL -"

"Leave me alone, already. I can't even go to freaking jail without you annoying me." I immediately reached for the Fenton Thermos, which of course wasn't there.

I sighed. "Just my luck, isn't it?"

The Box Ghost grinned maniacally and levitated a dumpster, preparing to throw it at me. "Like you haven't tried that before," I said as I lazily flicked my hand and the 'trash box' was instantly encased in ice and fell to the ground. "Why don't you just give up?"

"I AM THE BOX -" I held out my hand and pinned him to the wall of the house directly behind him with an ice shard.

"- nuisance. Seriously, just go home."

BG, who was looking a bit less than hot (less than usual, anyway) smiled nervously. "Beware?" he said.

Another wave of my hand and he flew off to who-knows-where. Wasn't much else I could do at this point, and he was just the Box Ghost.

So I transformed, having temporarily suppressed the fact that this wasnot a normal ghost fight, and that, no, my life wasn't going to be returning to 'normal' anytime soon.

Walking back into the Roberta's house, I looked first at Petra, who was looking genuinely impressed, but more than a little wary, then at Mrs. Roberta, who was starting to wake up, and finally at Toby and Emma who had come out of the adjoining for and were staring at me.

"You probably shouldn't have done that," Emma whispered. "The guard probably saw."

"And you've jeopardized this whole pitch," Toby said. "Which means, ultimately, you're screwed. Emma's mom is not a generally agreeable woman."

I bit my lip. "I couldn't do nothing," I said. "Not after I remembered."

Toby's eyes widened, but Emma looked puzzled.

"You didn't," he asked warily. I noticed out of the corner of my eye Petra was 'sneaking' over to check up on her aunt.

"Remembered what?"

Toby shot a concerned glance in her direction, but I ignored him.

"What it was like to live. What my life meant to me before. How to be a hero."