Thanks for all the reviews - again! I swear, you guys just bring huge smiles to my face.

Four more chapters to go...that kind of makes me feel sad o.o;

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.
Some ideas in this story were taken from Glamorousdeath, 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!

Enjoy:D

-Sam's POV-

Tucker gave me a patronizing stare. "Just find him!" he nearly shouted.

"What?" I said, startled.

"Him!" he said angrily, taking his hat off and running his long and bony fingers through his fuzzy black hair. "That kid," he said with a wave of his hand. "Danny? The kid you told me about way back when on one of the last days of school? When we first became friends?"

I blinked. He remembered me talking about Danny all the way back then? A part of me glowed with happiness that someone really did care about me. Another part thought it was creepy.

"How do you remember that?" I asked, astonished.

A short grin, then a chortle. "I remember everything my friends tell me," he said. And then he gave me a sad smile.

"I know how hard it is to lose a friend," he said softly. "It's the hardest thing; knowing the friendship is gone and having to deal with it." He came closer, poked my forever-tear stained cheeks. "I see the tracks tears have made across your face. I see the bloodshot look in your eyes, how it's always there. The dark circles under your eyes. You loved him, Sam. And true love doesn't fade away. I've seen you throw up from your love; I've seen you fall to the ground and sob hysterically. You may have never talked about him, but I was always there with a comforting hand, wasn't I?"

I nodded thickly, about to cry in front of everyone at school. "I don't want to see you in this much of a wreck. A lost father, mother…but never a lost lover."

"Why do you care so much?" I whispered, my voice like honey oozing from the bottle.

"I hate seeing people I care about in distress," he said simply. Then a wicked flash of a smile—a mischievous grin—and a grab of my hand.

"I've got a plan, but you might find it a bit odd."

"Lay it on me," I said wearily.

"Who adopted Danny?"

"Vlad Masters."

A grin spread across his face. "Excellent! He's the easiest person to find whereabouts on in the world! Okay. So here's the plan. My dad? Well, he owns this huge truck. He taught me how to drive it ages ago.

"Well, you've never met my dad, but I am the spitting image of him." A flash of a grin, white teeth glinting. "We look pretty much the same, except my face is a bit chubbier. But honestly…would that show on a driver's license that we edited slightly so that the age declared me nineteen instead of fourteen?"

A sparkle lit my eyes at the chance of making a ruckus. "Are you saying…we're gonna drive to Wisconsin!?" I asked incredulously.

Out of Tuck's pocket came a thin card—a driver's license. He flashed it to me, his grin growing wide. "Tucker Foley, age nineteen, birthday February Fifth," he recited. The date that he would have been born on if he were nineteen. His correct height. A slightly younger version of his dad that really did look identical to Tucker.

"Let's go find that damn kid," he laughed.

I hugged him tightly, trying to fight back squeals. "Danny, here I come!" I whooped, earlier wonderings if he was still the Danny I knew and loved forgotten. I was going to get my Danny back…my Danny…

I choked back a laugh, thinking of a quote I had once heard before. Even if you rip my heart out and slam it on the ground, I'll pick it up, dust it off, and hand it right back to you. I snorted outwardly, earning a strange look from Tucker but not caring. It was ironic how that matched so perfectly with the way I felt at that moment.

Danny, Danny, Danny…