A/N - -rolls eyes- we all know i don't own danny phantom OR beauty and the beast

check out my profile - i have up some ideas for future stories. please tell me which one ya like bestest!!!

i'm sorry it took so long to update - i've got exams on, and i've been revising like a loon ;) so next update might take a while too :s sorry

Eight

He sat silently in the corner of her room, his arms folded nonchalantly across his chest, watching the bustle. He was, of course, invisible, and did not make the tiniest noise, or movement.

Inside the room was his sister, and Valerie, along with several other women of the castle. Reels of fabric and mountains of pincushions and scissors were scattered randomly throughout the room. People – ghosts – moved around, shouting to each other and laughing. And in the middle of it all was Sam, her expression adorable and completely priceless, her arms held out to the side, her fists tightly clenched, wearing only an old petticoat of Jazz's. Her mouth was set firmly down, her whole body rigid.

Various different women were holding up measuring tapes and fabrics to her body and face, then barking out figures, denials, or assents to others clutching paper and quills.

A faint smile tugged at his lips as one of the women held a pastel pink fabric with white laced through it to the girl's stoic face. She recoiled from it, ignoring the yelps and gasps for her not to move and hissed at the poor girl holding the cloth.

"If you make me a pink dress, I will make you wish you could die."

The ghostly girl's face drained of any remaining color and she hastily stumbled backwards, pulling the offending cloth with her.

Danny crushed his hand against his mouth before his chuckle slipped out. He couldn't let them know he was there. He stepped backwards and phased out of the room. He stayed invisible until he was once more inside his own wing, hers safely behind him. He had what he needed.

He waited until later before marching downstairs, down into the servants' quarters. He spotted the girl he wanted – Star – sitting sedately on her bed, busily sewing a black and purple floor-length dress. He ignored the dress and slipped right up next to her.

"Star?"

She looked up at him, surprise radiating from her, her sewing hand frozen in midair. "Y-yes my lord?"

"I have a special request from our guest – about her new dresses?"

She usually ate alone. She would normally have said that she preferred it that way, but ever since that trick she pulled cutting Phantom's hair she had been a little – just a little – on edge, and appreciated the guard, even if that was not what it was actually intended to be.

It wasn't like she was scared. She was just…healthily wary. She had thought at the beginning, once she had cleared her thoughts and realized that maybe taunting the antisocial specter who would probably care as much about blasting her down the mountain as he would swatting a fly, was not the most intelligent thing to do, that he would seek some sort of bloody revenge.

But it had been three days, and still nothing had happened. She was torn between being a nervous wreck waiting for a prank around every corner and deciding that he had let it pass.

She laughed out loud at herself, cupping her hand in front of her mouth so as not to give poor Jazz across the table a pleasant view of her half-chewed breakfast.

He wouldn't let it pass. She was in for it. She just didn't know what to look for.

Jazz had decided, upon realizing that the only clothing Sam actually had to wear was the horrible, raggedy, most likely homespun piece of material she had been wearing when she had arrived, that new clothes were in order. She had actually yelped when she had figured it out and decided right then and there that they would make her a whole new wardrobe.

She had asked Sam for any special requests and, much to her horror, had been asked for some breeches and a shirt, complete with boots. But apparently she had conceded. She had gone and stolen a pair of Tucker's brown boots – guessing correctly that they would be the right size – and Sam had worn no other shoes since she had first been presented with them.

Star, their best seamstress, had announced that all the other dresses were ready earlier that day, and Jazz excitedly sat opposite the younger – much younger – girl, waiting for her to finish eating. They had put all the dresses, and the heinous breeches and shirts, in the wardrobe up in their guest's chambers, and wanted to surprise her after breakfast.

Finally Sam set down her utensils and wiped her mouth with the napkin. She was already a huge favorite with their chef – an opportunity for him to actually cook things. The other residents of the castle rarely ate, if ever. Her brother, she knew, had eaten nothing since he had figured out that he could live without doing so.

"Done?"

"No – I was just gonna start eating with my fingers."

Jazz rolled her eyes at her fledgling friend's unwavering sarcasm. "Good, 'cause I want to show you something." She stood. "Follow me!"

Sam did so, and the two women wove their way through the enormous castle, up staircases and down hallways until they reached Sam's room. Jazz wanted to just fly and phase there from the dining hall, but Sam had earlier informed all the inhabitants of the castle that she disliked being flown around like a piece of baggage, so she refrained.

Sam pushed open the door to her room to follow Jazz, who had already entered, and stood before the hovering girl, looking mildly bored.

"So…what did you want to show me?"

Jazz smiled with an expression Sam could only describe as glee. She clapped her hands together and floated speedily over to her wardrobe. Sam rolled her eyes. She had already guessed that her new clothes were done. Truthfully the only things she would be glad to see were the shirt and breeches. All the dresses could just sit in there and fester for all she cared. She had told Jazz she wouldn't wear them if she had a choice.

She watched as the over-excited girl fastened her hands around the door handles, and then swung both doors open wide dramatically. And what she saw inside the cupboard made her stomach cave in on itself.

Everything was pink. Everything. A baby pink dress hung next to a bright pink one, next to a purple-ish pink dress with yellow trimmings. A pink shirt was positioned beside some white breeches with pink stitching.

Sam looked at the clothes in horror.

"They're…pink!" she rasped. Jazz seemed to have already noticed something was wrong, and her face had fallen.

"You, don't like pink?"

"I said no pink!" she whispered heavily, still staring in dismay at the clothing infesting her wardrobe, especially the putrid shirt and the horrific breeches.

"I don't understand. Star!" Jazz bellowed, not tearing her eyes from the clothes. The sound reverberated through the wing, and it was only a few moments later that the two girls could hear running footsteps.

"Yes, milady?" the evidently nervous girl asked, standing small in the doorway.

"Why are these all pink?" Jazz demanded.

"I hate pink," Sam whispered, more to herself than to the others, her gaze still firmly fixed on the items in the closet.

"I, I don't understand, milady!" Star stuttered, looking taken aback. "I thought the lady wished all her clothing to be pink!"

"What? Did she say that?"

"N-no, but I'm certain – the master himself explicitly told me–"

"The master?" Sam snapped, jerking her head towards the trembling girl. She practically snarled. "I should have guessed."

The outwardly fuming young woman was absolutely screaming inside, tossing every nasty word she could think of into her next sentence. That lowlife, vile, sneaky, obnoxious, repulsive inhuman bastardHow could he? What was she supposed to wear? She ought to storm right up there right now and give him absolute hell…or maybe not.

She smiled secretively and un-hunched her back, ignoring the strange glances cast her way from the other two girls in the room at her rapid expression and posture change. If he wanted a battle, he was going to get one.

"Oh, heavens – whatever shall I do?" She wailed, pressing her hand to her cheek and widening her eyes. "I cannot possibly wear any of that! And this dress won't last much longer. Oh – I shall have to just wear your shift, Jazz! All day. In the gauzy shift. All day long. The humiliation! Oh, just leave me! Leave me in peace!"

She collapsed forwards onto her bed melodramatically, listening for the two girls leaving the room. There was silence, as shock practically radiated from the others, but she eventually heard them exit and close the door for her.

She sat up on the soft bed, that smile creeping back. She looked at the sky outside her window. He would be in the West Wing drawing room about now, with Tucker.

His bedroom completely at her mercy.

Danny invisibly walked back up to the West Wing, an annoying smile fixed on his face. He couldn't get rid of it, so he had just decided to become invisible so nobody could see it. Besides; he didn't want anyone to know he had been standing right outside Sam's room for so long.

His plan had worked. He had ruined all her clothes. He had won. The smile intensified as he pushed open the door to his wing's private drawing room. He walked across the room to stand in front of the fireplace. He had heard her say she would have to wear Jazz's shift. She would be completely and totally humiliated in front of everyone in the whole castle. He knew she would be eating dinner later on – he could go gloat at her then.

Tucker pushed open the door just then and walked into the room.

"Hey. So how did the present go?"

"She really liked it."

"Yes! I told you so!"

Danny harrumphed. "She annoys me."

Tucker stopped his strange victory dance and stared at his friend. "What?"

Danny sighed. "Nevermind. I just…"

I can't figure out whether I like her or hate her. It seems to change each time I see her. I don't understand. Nobody has ever confused me this much.

Tucker gave him a strange look. He drew out the vowels in his next word nervously. "Anyway, I just came up to tell you that dinner is served."

Tucker always came up to tell him that. Danny knew that he was always naïvely wishing he would come down to spend time with their guest.

He obviously didn't know about their secret miniature battle.

But this time Danny nodded, allowing that grin to slip back onto his lips. "Alright." And, to Tucker's astonishment, he glided down through the floor, apparently on a trajectory for the dining hall several floors below them. The dark-skinned servant watched the white head of his friend disappear, then shrugged and followed him, feeling more than slightly bemused.

Danny landed gracefully on the floor of the dining hall, the titanic fireplace and hearth stretching over most of the wall behind him, crackling comfortingly and giving off heat that he knew was there, but could never feel. Before him stretched out the enormous table, one place setting laid out at the end for Sam.

She wasn't there yet. He walked to the head of the table and stood there, folding his arms, his black cloak sweeping over his shoulders and parting across his chest to bisect his upper arms. He waited.

Suddenly one of the doors was opened by one of the servants, and the girl he awaited stepped through.

But she wasn't wearing Jazz's shift. Oh no.

She was wearing his clothes. A black shirt of his, some of his black breeches, and his black boots. The shirt was far too large for her, bagging around her slim figure, but was tucked into the long breeches. The oversized trousers, in turn, had been tucked deep inside the clumping boots. Her raven hair had been pulled back with a black ribbon, and she had a mischievous smile on her face that, unbeknownst to him, had not left her face since she had first entered his room to steal the outfit.

His mouth fell open, and his arms dropped. "You…my…you're…my…clothes…" He stuttered stupidly, serving not intensify her victorious grin, but also to cause them to appear on the faces of the multitudes of servants who were clustered haphazardly up against the kitchen door, eavesdropping shamelessly on their master and the newly discovered bane of his existence.

She listened to his stuttering for a few more seconds, relishing in the knowledge that she had actually, truly baffled him. She had uprooted the unflappable Phantom. She had won.

But suddenly she took a step backwards. His glowing green eyes had begun to change; as if the emerald storms inside them were becoming angrier, swirling madly, the color becoming richer. Their aura started to intensify until they made the room glow slightly green along with the gold from the fireplace.

He was mad. Really, really mad.

But all of a sudden his pale lips cracked unpredictably into a grin. He lowered his head and looked up from underneath his white eyebrows at her.

"You're dead."

Her eyes widened. Was he serious? For some reason she couldn't decide whether or not he was joking. It seemed perfectly in character for him – and yet grossly out of it at the same time.

He took a step towards her. She involuntarily took a step back. He inched towards her, that almost maniacal grin still on his face. She backed up until her back connected with the door frame.

Suddenly his whole body jolted as he leapt into the air. She yelped and ducked, falling to the ground just in time. He was headed straight for the wall, but phased right through it at the last minute. Sprawled across the floor – glad she was not wearing a dress – she was not willing to take any chances with the unpredictable ghost. She leapt nimbly to her feet and ran across the room to the other exit. She rounded the corner and sprinted down the hallway.

She was planning on hiding in her room; until she realized that that was obviously the first place he would look for her. So she turned her feet and skidded around a sudden corner, directly towards the North Wing.

Her feet were tapping ever so slightly, and it was in that relative silence that she suddenly heard a thump behind her. Her chest clenched violently once and she leapt to the side, pressing her body against the wall. She knew instinctively that he was on her heels. Her teeth crept over her bottom lip as she closed her eyes and stretched all her senses out to locate him.

She heard a very faint pat just around the corner, and recognized it as the sound the denizens of the castle made when they landed on the ground after having been floating. She looked to her side. There was about fifty feet left of it to run before she rounded the corner. She didn't think she could make it without him catching her.

She looked straight in front of her. There was another corridor. She smiled slightly and reached down silently to remove her right shoe. She held it in her hand as she took off the other as well. She drew her arm back and threw the shoe down the hallway. Instantly she tossed the other, listening with satisfaction as they made two subtle but audible thumps down the corridor.

He suddenly rounded the corner, running along the ground instead of floating. He ran down the hallway and she grinned, detaching herself from the wall and taking off down her hallway. She slid round the corner to her left, smiling in relief.

But he was coming back. She could hear him stomping. He was not happy. She turned once more and ran to the end of the short passageway to the door. She flung it open and turned to bolt it – before she realized how useless that was. She left the door unlatched and sprinted up the staircase.

It curved to her right violently. After just a few moments of going up and round, up and round, up and round, her balance began to falter. It was as though she had forgotten how to not be moving in that direction. The steps were short and shallow, and she was careful not to misstep. Not only could she tumble back down and probably kill herself, but he might catch her.

She wasn't sure which prospect was more terrible.

She finally burst out of the door at the top, her chest heaving. She knew that the North Keep was the tallest turret, spiking bravely a couple hundred feet up into the mountain sky. She wasn't going to go that high. She had never liked heights, and the panoramic view from her third floor bedroom window was high enough for her.

She didn't want to think about which unearthly floor she was currently on.

But suddenly she heard a slapping sound. It sounded like a boot on stone. And it also sounded like it was coming from the very top step. She cursed and turned towards the other door in the small room. More stairs. She moaned and ran for the door.

She ran up the next flight. But it was different this time. She felt very strange. It took her a few moments to work out what was making her feel so weird.

Adrenaline.

She was…having fun? Having fun being chased around the creepy enchanted by the homicidal, psychopathic ghost? Had she completely lost it?

Her lips curved into a smile. She felt a new burst of energy and quickened her pace up the winding stairwell. This was fun. She couldn't remember the last time she had had this much fun.

Suddenly she burst out of the door at the top of the stairs. And her feet dug sharply into the stone floor, her arms flapping madly as she fought to regain her balance. Her heart pounded violently as she looked down over the tiny balcony down to the death drop over the side of the castle.

Her throat constricted painfully, she backed away from the edge, back to the relative safety of the door. The fear subsided, and she took a deep breath. She couldn't hear him coming up the stairs, but knew that he was probably floating intangibly up through them. She didn't have much time.

And then she had none. He suddenly appeared in and dwarfed the doorway, his hands cockily on his hips, his black cloak falling to cover up most of him. She gulped nervously, that enjoyable smile back tingeing her face. She took a step sideways, her hands clasped behind her back.

He wore a very strange expression. He looked as though he was desperately trying to restrain a smile and not faring well. His face was strained; his eyebrows down low over his viridian eyes, while the corners of his mouth were turning upwards.

"Thief," he growled, his voice laced with laughter.

She shrugged, grinning. "Hey, you're the one who tried to put me in pink."

She had intended that sentence to come out menacingly. Angrily at least. But she had sounded more teasing than anything. She scowled at herself.

He smiled, catching her off guard. She had thought he would avoid doing that at all costs. This man was incredibly annoying. Every time she made a deduction about him he had to go and disprove it.

"Alright Sam," he continued. She was just about to correct the nickname – but she suddenly realized she had become quite fond of it, and let it pass.

"I'm going to give you ten seconds to apologize. Ten,"

What? Is he crazy? I'm not going to apologize!

"Nine."

If anyone should say they're sorry it should be him!

"Eight."

He started this whole thing!

"Seven."

I wonder what will happen if I don't apologize.

"Six."

Will he really kill me? Actually, somehow…

"Five."

I don't think so. But something tells me it won't be pretty.

"Four."

Do I really want to wait and see?

"Three."

Uh, that'd be a 'no'.

"Two."

She looked around her, for an escape route. She spotted in that split second a ledge jutting out a few feet from the bottom of the balcony. If she could land on that she could walk across and get into the lower turret, escaping back into the castle. It was an easy jump – she couldn't miss.

"One."

He lunged for her, arms outstretched. She showed him a scheming grin and turned, slipping slightly across the balcony to increase her speed. She jumped deftly onto the balcony edge, ignoring her fear and the plummeting drop beside her, tensing her muscles, preparing to make the few foot leap onto the ridge.

She released the strain in her legs, letting them lengthen behind her, then pulling them back up close to her torso, landing as agilely as a cat on the jutting ridge, her legs bent beneath her, her arms out to her sides. She stood.

And then her foot slipped. The tile she had landed on broke free of its mortar with a crack. It slid out from under her, clattering down the roof. She only had a few seconds to watch its tumbling fall down the mountainside before she joined it. Her legs flew up from underneath her and she was launched off the side of the roof.

Her whole body felt as though it had evaporated. Her freefall caused the strangest sensation of weightlessness. Her gut began to twist with fear. Suddenly her weight seemed to return, and she was painfully aware of plummeting past floor after floor.

She closed her eyes, unknowingly squeezing a tear of fright out of the corner as her hair whipped around her face in the torrent of wind engulfing her.

Suddenly she felt an iciness slide underneath her knees, and into the small of her back. The one on her back slid up, tightening and pulling her into a small, quaking mess against another icy surface.

She was so afraid. She was nervous. She was worried about whether or not she was alright. Wait. Those weren't her emotions.

They were Phantom's.

She was now confusing his emotions for her own? Her brain was too traumatized at that exact moment to reflect further on that. She curled deeper into the security she had found.

Her head suddenly popped up. She was staring directly into two concerned green eyes, his worry clearly readable in them. In the next couple of seconds she registered that she was curled tightly against his wide chest, his shoulders drawn together to cradle her body along with his arms that were bent and sliding along the far side of her; that she was not dead; and that they were floating in midair, the fourth or fifth floor of the castle looming beside them.

"Sam, are you alright?"

She cleared her throat. "Y-I'm fine. Thank you – for catching me."

"Why – did you think I'd let you fall?"

"No, I just didn't really think that you could fly. I mean, I knew you floated, but I never really realized that…um…." She trailed off, starting to curse herself.

He smiled down at her. It was right then that she noticed exactly how close she was pressed to him, how far into his chest she had subconsciously buried herself, and how close their faces were.

Wait. Was she….

Worried, she drew her head back and broke his gaze, fixing her eyes on the buttons of her – his – shirt. "I-I missed dinner."

She heard him suck in air resignedly. It shocked her – Phantom never breathed.

"Alright."

He flew her back to the castle, phasing them through the wall. He set her down gently on the rug in the center of her room, allowing her to back away from him, her left arm coming up across her body to hug her right, that little nervous gesture he had noticed her employ before down in the labyrinth.

"Sam, I…" he stopped; unsure of what exactly it was he wanted to say. He sighed, letting out that breath he had taken a few minutes before. "I'm glad you're alright."

She pursed her lips and nodded. He returned the gesture, then turned to leave the room. But he suddenly felt a slight, butterfly touch on his hand. Her skin was so warm – he loved touching her. But he knew that she wasn't really feeling him, when he saw that her hand had been phased right through his, as if he wasn't even there.

He drew his hand back and took hers, her warmth seeping into him once more.

"Phantom?" she whispered hoarsely. She took a few steps towards him, closing the gap. Their chests were mere inches from each other, and he looked down at her, while she seemed to have fixed her eyes on the emerald clasp of his cloak.

She breathed in deeply below him, shuddering, then exhaled. The hot air brushed against his chest, and he closed his eyes. Why did he love being near her so much?

Her voice was low, and her lips stuck slightly to each other when as she pressed them together. "Goodnight, Phantom."

Then she turned away. She hated touching him She had practically said so herself. He should have known. He should have realized that she was never going to see him as anything more than a monster. He should just give up – let her leave, let her go, free them both.

But he couldn't. He needed her.

please review!!! will make update come faster!!!

FunkyFish1991 xXx