A/N - no. Danny Phantom no mine, and neither is Beauty and the Beast :(

i'm so sorry it took me so long to update - but once i finished this chapter i went away for a long weekend and only just got back!!! next one shouldn't take as long...

Seven

The candlestick dropped to the floor, the light going out instantly. Sam's arms flew up in front of her face, braced for the attack she was certain would come. She waited.

And waited.

Finally she moved her arms away and opened her eyes. The red eyes she had seen before were gone.

"What the…" she mused, walking forwards. Her face smacked into something pretty solid and she yelped in surprise. But it didn't feel like one of the stone walls. She ran her fingers across it, not recognizing the texture. What was it? She hated not being able to see.

But to her right was a dim yellow glow. It looked like the glow of a candle, and she gravitated towards it. When she arrived there she found no candle, but that the light was in fact coming from a crack in the floor above her.

It must be another trap door, was her first thought. A way out! was her second.

She moved towards it, but all of a sudden to her left she noticed more eyes staring at her. She gasped again and wheeled to the side to face them. She was faced with row upon row of them, staring at her. All different colors, in different bodies, different heights.

Before her were dozens and dozens of paintings.

Her curiosity flared and she stepped towards them, squinting slightly in the dim light cast from above. The first one that caught her eye was a man and woman she did not recognize. The woman had auburn hair and a small face. Next to her was a giant of a man with pitch black hair and a belly to match his height. She did not recognize either of them directly, but something about them seemed very familiar.

The next painting was of a young girl sitting on a pink stool, a childish smile playing across her lips. She looked to be about two or three years old. Her hair, like the other woman's, was auburn, only with more red laced through it. Her eyes were a green-blue hue, and she looked very familiar indeed. Sam's eyes widened suddenly as she realized exactly why she recognized her.

It was Jazz.

Jazz, only younger. And less transparent. She smiled at the young, more human-looking version of her friend, and turned her attention to the next painting along. It was huge. It towered several feet over Sam's head, and was almost as wide.

It showed four figures. The first was the huge man from the first painting, his arm around the woman. Sam could see them both clearly. But across the bottom of the painting was a huge scorch mark, a greenish tinge staining the canvas around it. The mark obscured the faces of the two figures at the bottom of the painting. All Sam could see was the top of a black-haired head.

She gazed once more down the line of paintings. She could tell, now that her eyes had adjusted to the dim light, that the red eyes she had seen before were actually brown eyes from a painting that had had a strange glow cast across it from the light seeping through the floor above. She had thought for a moment that it had been the shadowy, wolf, thing, again. She sighed in relief.

"Why are these all down here?" she asked herself out loud. Her mind suddenly snapped back to the space on the wall in the Phantom's room, where she had thought there might once have been a picture. Come to think of it, she had seen similar dark spots all over the castle on her tour and during her solo explorations.

"So this must be where all those paintings went," she mused. "But why were they moved?"

She shook her head, deciding to disregard this particular mystery, and turned her attention to her possible escape route. She stood right beneath it, looking up, her arms folded.

"Okay, there were steps coming down from the other one," she said crossly. "Where are the steps for this one?"

A quick scan of the tunnels around her revealed no staircase. She scowled. The darkness was beginning to freak her out. Not scare her – she wasn't scared. Just, unnerved.

"Alright. So…how do I get out?"

Jazz glided swiftly down the hallway, deep in thought.

She liked the girl. She had a vibrancy of character that had been sorely missed in this castle. In the past years, Jazz had been becoming more and more afraid that not only would Danny lose the will to live, but that he would forget how to do so. Although they were all technically ghosts, Danny was the only one who actually acted like he was one.

And it worried her.

But this girl had only been there a little over a week and already a change was sparking through her little brother. She had not missed the worry flickering through his normally dead eyes when Sam had been sick. She didn't miss the strange way he flinched whenever her name was mentioned.

She smiled to herself.

She suddenly noticed that the door to the north drawing room was wide open. She sighed. They had been meaning to fix that door. She moved over to close it, and she suddenly noticed the rug. One corner of it was flung over, revealing the trap door below.

She moved over to it, going down onto her knees.

"Hello?" she called down into the labyrinth. "Anyone down there?" There was no reply, and she sat back on her heels. "Why is it open?" She decided that someone was using the passage to get to somewhere else in the castle faster – it was good for that. Although, it hadn't been used in years – after discovering that they could just phase right the way through the castle, the passage was no longer necessary for the castle's inhabitants. Even if someone was in there they could just phase out again. And Sam was safely ensconced in her room.

She shook her head and shut the trap door, twisting the handle to lock it closed, and pulled the rug back over it neatly.

"Hey, Kwan, have you seen Sam?"

Kwan shook his head. "Not today, Valerie."

Valerie scowled. She was going to wring that girl's neck when she found her. She had been searching for almost an hour – but this was a big castle, and she could be almost anywhere.

"Sam!" She shouted, striding out again into the hallway. "Sam, where are you?"

She started muttering crossly to herself. She was supposed to go get Sam from her room while Tucker and Danny prepared her present. She had thought it would be the easier job of the two. She scowled again.

"Sam!" Her voice was grating now with annoyance. "Where are you, you annoying little…?" She grumbled some more, stomping down the hall, checking every door and every room.

But almost an hour later, she was still searching. And she was starting to get worried now. What if she had hurt herself? Or worse – what if she had run away again?

"Sa-am!" She screamed.

Her voice echoed through the hallways, but was not answered. She swore and turned on her heel, stalking crossly towards the kitchen.

But she was met in the hallway with a broad chest. Looking down at the ground, she hadn't noticed it until she made contact.

"Ow! Get out of my way you…"

"You, what?"

She snarled when she heard his voice. "Danny. I can't find her."

"What?" He looked almost disbelieving.

"I can't find her anywhere."

His eyes flickered, and then his whole face fell. Valerie was startled, and her eyes widened. That sadness was one of the most human expressions she had seen him wear in almost one hundred years – discounting anger, of course. He lowered his head, and when he brought it back up, his face was stoic.

"Has she run away again?"

Valerie shrugged impatiently. How was she supposed to know?

"Well, check the stables. See if her horse is gone. Or any horse," he added, remembering his own stallion that she had stolen last time.

"Sure."

She dashed off, leaving him standing there in silence. Suddenly he heard a faint banging noise. Confused, he turned his head towards the sound. It seemed to be coming from the room to his left. He took a few steps towards the door, then phased through it into the room beyond. He scanned the interior, looking for the source of the banging.

It was coming from – the floor? He walked over and knelt down beside the sofa. There was a definite banging originating from under the floorboards beneath the sofa. He pushed the heavy piece of furniture aside with ease and looked down at the trap door. He knew there were underground passages snaking all over the castle, but he did not know where all the trap doors were. It seemed he had found another exit.

He grabbed the handle and twisted it. It protested vehemently, and another bang sounded from below. The ring suddenly twisted sideways with a jerk and the door swung open amidst a symphony of squeaks and creaks. He peered down into the hole, his glowing eyes illuminating the dark space below with an eerie green light.

"You gonna help me out?"

It was just after he heard her snarled comment that he actually saw her. Her hands were attached to her hips, her face enraged. Her hair was mussed, and her worn dress was dirty. She stared up at him.

"Well?" She hissed.

He scowled and descended into the hole gently. He landed right beside her, but she made no move to come to him. He frowned at her ridiculous pride – if that was what it could be called – and held out his arm to her.

"Come on."

She suddenly scuffed her feet in a decidedly uncharacteristic movement. She seemed very uncomfortable. Her arms uncrossed, though he was unsure of whether or not she was actually aware of them doing so. One hand crept up to hug her other elbow, and she turned her face away from him, as if she was ashamed.

"I don't want to touch you."

He was taken aback. "Wh-what?"

"You hurt me."

What? "I, I do?"

"Please. Don't try and pretend you don't know what I'm talking about."

"Sam, I don't have to pretend. Don't you want to get out of here?"

She suddenly looked very angry. "No, I think I'd rather stay in the creepy cave, get lost in the endless passageways, and never…and never find my…oh fine!" She sighed furiously.

She took a step towards him, but just before she would have touched his outstretched forearms, she stopped. "Please go quickly."

He frowned, but nodded. She held out her slender arms, allowing him to take them, and he hugged her into his body, turning them both intangible so he would not have to worry about maneuvering them both through the decidedly small hole that was their exit.

Immediately after landing he released her, as per her request, and watched her stagger backwards, discomfited. Did he really hurt her? He did not mean to.

She looked suspiciously up at him, her violet eyes framed with dirt. How long, exactly, had she been down there? Her long hair had fallen out of its bun and was cascading down her back in ratty tendrils. She seemed, once again, to be shoeless.

"Where are your shoes?"

"I ate them." She snapped. His eyes widened, and hers rolled, annoyed, at him. "I was throwing them at the trapdoor."

"Why?"

"How else was I supposed to get you people – er, ghosts – to find me? And could you have taken any longer?"

"Hey – it's not my fault you wandered into the passage and got yourself lost!"

"Well, if you didn't lock yourself in your room and leave me to rot in mine I wouldn't have gone into the passage!"

He stared at her. How could one young girl possibly annoy him so much? He seemed to alternate between wanting to grin whenever he saw her and wanting to wring her scrawny, sarcastic little neck.

He shook his head. There was a strange silence between them. She abruptly turned on her heel and made to leave the room. He suddenly found himself calling out.

"Sam?"

Shut up you idiot!

She leaned on the doorframe, looking crossly back at him. "What?"

Don't do it. You don't have to do it. Nothing's making you!

"I, uh, thank you. Thank you for helping me. That night with the wolf? Um, thank you."

Traitor.

She looked taken aback. Stunned, even. She took some steps back towards him, her head tilted questioningly to the side, studying him.

"You're welcome." The next part seemed slightly strained. "Thank you, too." He barely caught her murmur. "For saving me."

He nodded brusquely. "You're my prisoner – and therefore my responsibility."

She fixed him a look. He knew that look so well by now.

"Sure."

She turned tail and exited the room, leaving him gaping after her. Had she just…? He moaned and smacked his forehead. What was the matter with him?

All of a sudden he remembered the reason he had actually wanted to find her in the first place. He floated out of the room and down the corridor after her retreating figure. He landed right in front of her and was oddly pleased to see that he had surprised her. She was a hard one to startle.

She crossed her dirty arms, pretending she had not jumped when she had seen him land in front of her. "What?"

"I want to show you something."

"What is it?"

He pursed his lips and held out his hand. She looked dubiously at it, then peered into his eyes. He suddenly remembered that she did not want to touch him, and made a noise that could either have been a sad sigh or an impatient one. He beckoned for her to follow him, and then turned to walk down the hall.

After a long moment's hesitation, he heard her follow him. He grinned to himself.

Sam stared confusedly at the back of the ghost before her. She had mixed feelings about whatever it was he wanted to show her. On the one hand, it could be something horrible and gruesome that his twisted ghost mind concocted and that she probably did not want to see.

And on the other, it could be something that the gentle ghost Phantom, who had just rescued her from the freaky tunnels and had blushed as he had thanked her, had decided to share with her.

So she followed him with mixed feelings – surprise joining the mêlée of thoughts in her head as he led her out of the castle, far further than she had ventured outside the walls in her week of captivity.

And when he turned suddenly, she was so wrapped up in her thoughts that she didn't notice he had halted until she walked right through him. She received a strange and more intense version of the sensation of touching him that she had first felt when she had been bandaging him the night she had been attacked by the wolf. Tiny shivers passed through her body, and it felt a little like walking through cold steam.

She stopped abruptly just behind him, tingles coursing down her spine. She shook herself, unnerved, and turned to face him.

"Why'd you stop?"

"Close your eyes."

She scowled. "Sure. I'm gonna close my eyes and leave myself completely at your twisted ghostly mercy."

He frowned down at her. "Please?"

Her violet eyes widened. Had he actually just said 'please'? Was this the same ghost she had known who locked her up, banished her father, practically ruined her life and caused her agony every time he touched her?

She closed her eyes. She suddenly received a slight breeze across her face, and she guessed he was waving his hand before her, checking they were really shut. She only just managed to catch a grin before it showed on her face.

He took her hand. An inflow of emotions, as always, ensued, but this time they were not painful. They were softer emotions – anticipation, nervousness, even happiness? She was surprised.

Then she was aware of being gently dragged somewhere, her feet scuffing slightly, as she was reluctant to lift them completely. After a while they stopped, and Phantom moved to stand beside her. She could feel him towering above her, his hand still holding hers, though that little detail she barely noticed.

"Shut your eyes."

"They are shut," she retorted, instantly closing the eye that had been creeping open. How had he known?

She was suddenly lifted by an arm snaked around her waist, his hand still gripping hers. They floated vertically for a short distance before touching down to the ground again. His arm left her waist, and his hand dropped from hers. She felt a small pang of loss, but swallowed it quickly, frightened by the emotion.

"Alright, Sam," he whispered into her ear. She vaguely noticed the lack of breath tickling her skin. "Open your eyes."

She did so. And they widened. She looked around her in astonishment. She was in a garden – but it was like no garden she had ever seen before. They were standing on a stone balcony that rose out over flowers and trees and elegant shrubbery stretching out almost as far as she could see. Flowers of every color she had ever seen and colors she had not were displayed proudly below her. Far off to her right was a glimmering lake, plants growing in that too. To her left was a maze that was quite overgrown, but still magnificent.

Willows draped themselves all over the garden, their silver leaves rustling in the gentle mountain breeze. The grass was pure green, if a little unkempt. In the distance the silver mountains rose majestically, adding the finishing touch to the most beautiful place Sam had ever seen.

Her mouth had dropped open, her whole body freezing. She eventually jerked herself out of her reverie, and turned to the man beside her.

"Phantom, it's, it's just so…"

"It's yours."

Her purple eyes caught his green ones. "What?"

"If you want it, it's yours."

She swallowed, speechless. He was giving her this wonderful garden? All of it? It was hers?

"Really?" Her voice sounded perilously close to cracking with emotion.

"Well, I know you're bored, so I just thought…Tucker and Valerie said you seemed excited when they mentioned it before, so I guessed, maybe…"

He trailed off, and her face broke into a smile.

"It's beautiful. Th-thank you, so much!"

She threw her arms up towards his neck before she could catch herself. His surprise radiated from him into her, even though her arms phased through him. She let her arms lie where they would if she could actually touch him, deciding that that was almost as good as truly embracing him.

She turned up her head to look into his eyes, but was suddenly blinded by an eyeful of his white hair. She gasped raspily and pulled back, ripping at her face in alarm. She heard a strange noise and looked up at Phantom in shock.

He was laughing.

Her eyes widened. Phantom was laughing? She had not known he was capable of laughing. She displaced her astonishment and narrowed her eyes at him.

"What are you laughing at?"

"Your face." He chuckled, the remains of his amusement tingeing his voice.

She snorted at him, glaring at his mid-back length white hair. "You need a haircut."

He raised an eyebrow at her. "I haven't had a haircut in almost one hun-uh, one heck of along time."

"My point exactly."

She reached up and wiped at her face, where she had thought she felt a hair remaining. He started laughing again. She scowled at him, then turned and walked back to the castle. She planned on tending to her brand new garden – to calm herself. That was what she usually did.

She scrounged a sharp hedge-cutter from a side room in the lower part of the castle, and was already heading out with them when she froze, something hitting her. She raised the clippers in front of her, a devilish smile flitting across her face.

It was the dead of night. The whole castle was silent once more. The hallways were empty. Suddenly, one of the doors in the East Wing cracked open. A dark head peered around the portal, scanning the halls. Seeing nothing, the rest of her body slipped round through the doorway and moved silently along the hall. Her legs were bent so she could tread softer, her whole body braced to jump into hiding, were she to be found.

She quickened her pace as she grew bolder, almost running through the castle. She reached the opposite wing of the palace, and stepped up the stairway, slowing right down. She stopped right outside the doors, looking up at them.

Was she really going to do it? She looked at the clippers in her hand, the grin creeping back onto her lips. Oh, yes, she was.

She pushed open the left door as little as necessary and squeezed through the gap. She walked towards the bed, once more fully tensed and ready to spring to cover. She neared the bed, and could see the figure splayed across it. He seemed to be wearing his normal black attire, minus the cape, which was lying on the floor by the bed. He did not snore, but she decided that was because he did not breathe.

She drew closer, a little worried. What if he woke up? What if he was not sleeping – just resting? Did ghosts sleep?

But she needed her revenge. She suppressed her misgivings and moved right up beside him. She slipped her fingers carefully around a chunk of his hair. Her heart was pounding. She stole a glance at his face, the thought that he was really almost handsome in repose flitting through her mind once more.

There was a strange metallic shuffling noise, and several locks of white hair fell to the ground. She bit her lip in a victorious smile. A few more slices later she turned and exited the room, grinning excitedly to herself.

Danny woke up the next morning, feeling no different from when he went to bed. Sleep seemed to do nothing for him, but he did it anyway – mostly out of habit. He rubbed his eyes blearily and moved across the room, intending to go tell Tucker how his gift to Sam had worked out.

But he caught a glimpse of himself in a shard of mirror that lay on the ground, and he froze. He backtracked and picked up the piece of glass. He looked at himself. His hand came up and ran through his newly short hair. It was cut messily, flipping forwards into his face, and basically being a disorganized mess everywhere else.

His lips moved. But they did not become a snarl, a scowl, or a feral expression in any way.

They curved into a smile.

"This means war."

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FunkyFish1991 xXx