Okay. Feel free to cry for this one. I cried writing it.

No flaming plz XD

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!

-Sam's POV-

My mind was a wreck.

One part of me was screaming to Danny, telling me to run into his hands and just hug the living daylights out of him. To ignore the fact that his eyes were red, his body bloodstained, himself bent low to smash the ghost's head into the ground. To ignore the fact that there were duplicates of the ghost all around us, but ignoring Tucker and I.

Another part of me told me to just turn and run.

The part that was whimpering told me to just curl up into a ball on the ground, shut myself out from the world. I never knew Danny to be violent. Never! What was…

An animalistic rumble escaped Danny's lips. His fiery, violently red eyes were on my own eyes, gazing at me intently. He looked almost as if he were hurt; I wanted to go over and squeeze the hurt and pain from his stare.

"Sam," he croaked.

"Danny," I answered back.

And then, with a sharp crack, Danny hissed through his teeth as green rays hit him from all sides by the clones. He landed on his knees, wincing darkly, and bowed his head against the pain.

"Danny!" I screamed, rushing forward, but Tucker latched onto my arm. His face was white.

"Don't," he moaned at me. I tried to wrench my hand from his grasp but he was a lot stronger than me. "Let his anger or what ever run its course." He trembled slightly, looking at me intently. "This is your Danny, right?"

I nodded thickly.

"Is he…has he always been like this?"

I got the gist of his question. "No," I said solemnly. "He's not dead. I…I think he's half ghost, half human." Think? Well, he had told me. But I was still…questioning…

He still looked pale, his dark skin turning whiter as the moment continued like a slug moving across a sidewalk. We watched as Danny slowly pulled himself up, looked me straight in the eyes, and give me a grimace.

I held my gaze levelly as his eyes slowly dimmed from red to green. "S-Sam?" he stuttered.

Using all my force, I twisted my hand from Tucker's grasp and ran to him. He held his hands out, disheveled, as the ghost allowed us a moment of comfort from one another.

He gripped me tightly. "Sammy," he moaned into my hair. I held him back, oblivious to the smirking ghosts that surrounded us.

"I missed you, Danny," I whispered, crying. Why the hell was I crying? Because of being overjoyed?

He pulled back, held my face, and planted his lips on my own. I kissed him back, but neither of us had enough time to deepen the kiss—

—because the ghost suddenly grabbed hold of the scruff of my shirt (Danny's no doubt) and jerked me upward. He pulled me up so that my face was level with his.

"Who might you be, pretty girl?" he sneered. "The fabulous Sam Manson that's always on Daniel's mind?"

I kicked him in the chest. He didn't even flinch. "Let go of me," I snarled, while Danny shouted the same thing behind me but with a 'her' instead of 'me.'

The ghost kept his sneer in place, as, somehow, the duplicates molded into his flesh. He brought me closer to his face. Acting on a crazy impulse, I reached out and poked him harshly in the eyes.

He dropped me as if I were lead. Roaring, he spread out his hands and shot that weird green jet thing. And it hit me square in the chest.

I was flung backwards, landing with an oof on the ground next to Tucker. I got up, woozy but determined to stand by Danny's side.

Danny was snarling, but the red eyes didn't return. "Don't you dare hurt Sam ever again," he screamed, arms ablaze with green fire.

The ghost turned to me as I started to stumble back to Danny. Both him and Danny, at the same time, hollered at me, "STAY OUT OF THIS!"

Startled, I nodded and headed back to Tucker. I put my head on his shoulder, resigning to let my body weight relax on his. He gripped me tightly, watching with eyes that were wide and unlike his.

Pulling a fist, Danny turned to smash it into the ghost's face.

He caught it; pushed back; brought his other hand around to let it make an impact on Danny. Danny twirled away, wrenched his hand free, and put his hands on the ground to prepare for a round house kick. Twirling madly, he managed to smash his legs into the ghost's shins. (They were fighting on the concrete; we were located outside of Vlad's large castle, near the concrete field where he had placed a basket ball net for God knows what purpose.)

The ghost flew up almost immediately afterwards. Danny rose along with him, raising his hands. Ice flew from them, pelting the ghost in the face an adding to the scars that were decorating his face as if they were in style. One actually went so deep, that when the ghost went to scream in pain, I could see the icicle jutting into his mouth.

I winced in pain, even though it wasn't happening to me. But Danny didn't seem to see that he was in pain, or if he did, he certainly didn't care! While the ghost was preoccupied with his own rambling roars of pain, blood pouring down his throat, Danny smashed his fist into the ghosts face.

The ghost reared back, tried to kick Danny in the stomach, but Danny dodged the kick. The ghost, obviously livid as hell, raised his hands, and I noticed, a little late, that his hands were replaced with glowing balls of fire. Not the green fire that had been Danny's a while back—real, honest to gosh fire.

Danny didn't notice it though; his gaze was concentrated on the ghost's face. And suddenly the flaming hands gripped Danny's forearms.

Danny roared in pain, jerking backwards, but the hands were firm. I could smell the singed clothing, and eventually the singed skin. My face was wet and sticky with tears, not to mention sweaty with fear.

Fumbling backwards, trying to free himself from the ghost's killing hands, Danny collapsed. The hands let go, and I saw with awful clarity that his skin was black. Black, black, black, singed and dead.

He moaned, trying to get up. But his hands were working awfully, awfully slowly. He winced in pain, his body convulsing, literally, in it.

The ghost took the opportunity to gain advantage. He kicked Danny in the stomach, causing him to fall down.

I didn't notice it until then, but tears were running down my cheeks so fast I could literally feel the water soak through my shirt. I just watched, horror stricken, listening to Danny's request of me that I stay out of the fight.

Danny curled up on the ground. The ghost smirked, leaned down, and whispered to him. The whisper carried, however;

"Never attack a friend, because then they will become your enemy." A sweet and sadistic smile as Danny whimpered.

"Just end it.

"No!" I screamed, finally losing my nerve and running towards Danny. But I wasn't in time.

The ghost raised his hand, palm outstretched, and the blast hit Danny square in the chest. A last, convulsing gasp, and Danny lay still.

I collapsed on the ground, now crawling towards him, calling his name out as I sobbed. My shoulders heaved; my eyes blurry with tears. The ghost watched me with disinterest as I inched my way to Danny.

"No, no, no," I moaned under my breath. It wasn't true. It wasn't true. It wasn't…

I finally got to Danny; grabbed his hand. Coming closer to his face, I looked down at it. It was serene, as if finally, he had reached a world that was appropriate for them. Shaking quite visibly, I bent down, kissed his cold lips, and felt for a pulse. Remembering—such a long time back—that even in ghost form, he had a heart beat.

No heart beat. I looked down at his hand, then at his face, then at his singed and blackened arms.

I placed my head on his chest. And cried.

That was it; the big finale. My best friend, the one person I really truly loved…the only other person I had ever met that gave me the love I needed…dead.

It was over. The end.

There WILL be an Epilouge.