Rawr...this is where things veer from being in third person to being in first person...warning!!!

I like this chapter...kinda gives you insight to Danny later in the series. Soo...yesss..

Oh, I've noticed that a few people have been looking at my other stuff??? I suggest Fade Away...it's my favorite thing I've ever written. xD;

Anyway...

Disclaimer: I do not own Danny, Sam, Tucker, or Vlad. The three belong to Butch Hartman.
I do not own the band AFI; I do not own the band MCR; I do not own the band Linkin Park; I do not own the band Blaqk Audio; I do not own the band the Used; I do not own the band Rise Against.
Some ideas in this story were taken from Glamorous(insertunderscorehere)death, a member of the website from her story "Will You Cry for me?...or Will you cry with me?"
I do, however, own most of the plot to this fanfiction. IF SOMEONE STEALS IT I WILL EAT THEM.

Warning (so you guys don't eat my brain): DANNY FENTON AND SAM MANSON ARE ALTERED IN THIS FANFICTION. SAM IS TWO YEARS YOUNGER THAN DANNY; DANNY GOT HIS POWERS AT AGE TEN. If you do not want to read a fanfiction that is not "true" to the series, then please, do not read this. I'm sorry, but in order to make the fanfiction work, they had to be seperate ages. Once again...Danny and Sam are different ages; this fanfiction does not correspond whatsoever with the actual series.

This fanfiction is a work of fiction that came from the screwed up hole I call a brain. It is flufftastical, romantic, terribly tragic, and using the characters and most of their family history/backgrounds as bases. Thank you for understanding!!

Yesssss...enjoy!

-Danny's POV-

I slammed my fist into the wall of the castle, only to pull it back and slam it into it again. Blood dripped from my knuckles; I didn't care. I loathed the green and red liquid spilling from my hands, I loathed it almost as much as I loathed Vlad.

The wall was stained with blood, the color rusty with a hinge of hunter green. Biting back a choked sob, I took my other hand and slammed it into the rocky wall. Might as well bloody that one up, too, if I was going to do the job properly.

Vlad came strolling along. He sneered at me, and it was all I could do not to grab his head and bash it into the wall. I wondered idly what would happen if I did. "Stop doing that or I'll have to take you to the hospital," he said coolly.

"Take me, then," I snapped. Using my less damaged hand, I flipped him off, not even wincing as the cool, refreshing pain lanced from my and to my brain. "See where it lands you—under questions and your own stupid tests!"

Vlad smirked. "Miss her already?"

I fought hard not to pale at him. I hated how he saw through human emotions as if they were clear, unstained glass; it was so friggin' annoying. Maybe it was because he had no human emotions, other than anger, revenge, and hatred.

Glaring openly, I nodded and slammed a fist into the wall. "You have no idea," I said bitterly. "What with you're emotionless heart, I hardly doubt that you haven't ever felt anything for anyone." Then a sly smile that hid my weeping inside. "All you've ever wanted was my mother, and she left you for a bumbling idiot, and then got killed because of him. Wow, you must really suck if a moron won her affections."

He looked murderous; it was all I could do not to laugh harshly. "Your mother is dead," he hissed, "but that does not mean I still do not love her."

"You could never love!" I shouted at him, turning around and knowing my eyes were blazing green. "You're too much of a fucking ghost to have any room for love in that hole you call a heart!"

This time it was Vlad's turn to grin, eyes glinting rather evilly. "But, Daniel," he nearly cooed. "I'm afraid that applies to you, too."

I blanched; I couldn't help it. "I can love," I snarled.

Vlad shook his head, a really evil grin spreading across it. "Ah, you can pretend love. Lust is an emotion all humans, and ghosts, obtain." A flash of teeth, just slightly elongated for effect. "But ask any ghost and you will find that love is an unknown word to them."

He walked closer to me, and it was all I could do not to tremble. I hated him. He leaned down towards me, eye level, and whispered, "and you're half ghost. Love cannot fester in your heart; only hate can. Lust quickly turns into jealousy, and jealousy quickly turns into hate. Hate is the emotion that all ghosts revolve on."

My lips were dry. "I love her," I said, but heard how feeble my voice was. Wasn't this what I had feared—that I couldn't give Sam the love she deserved? I tried to remain true to my thoughts, but found that the harder I tried to believe my statement, the harder it was to believe it.

"Pretend all you want, Daniel," Vlad sneered. "But admit it to yourself." A slow, pale, bony finger reached out and poked my chest, where my heart should have been. "How can a heart that pumps no blood love?"