Author's Note

Well, aren't you guys lucky? While everyone else is deciding to put off fanfiction in favor for Nanowrimo, I have decided to make this my project! That's right, you will be receiving 50,000 words by the start of December! So, you should be getting a new chapter every three days. But, don't get your hopes up too high... I'm still in college, so I'll be doing my best with the limited time I have.

Chapter Four
Belief

Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen.

Hebrews 11:1

"They believe in you."

Thinking back, it had started the instant his mother uttered those words. Words that seemed so harmless and yet chilling at the same time. He would trace the incidents that led to his life forever changing back to that moment. The moment where his resolve that it was all merely a farce slip. Only a moment of doubt, of hope, of fear… but it was all it needed.

The phrase festered in the back of his mind for hours after his mother left, as he started and finished his English essay. Staying with him as he lied in wake, his mind pondering over the words, over their implications. They ran in circles around in his head, snuffing out sleep, blocking out any other ideas.

He allowed the possibility to worm its way into his heart. He had lowered the walls for a split second, had dared himself to hope for an instant. He spent hours trying to patch the breech, repair the damage. But it was already too late. It was all it needed.

It was all they needed.

Ashes to Ashes

Danny wasn't aware that someone was nudging him for several seconds. The glassy film vanished from over his blue gaze, the English classroom coming back into sharp focus. With a start, he realized that the rest of the class had turned in their seats to stare at him, Mr. Lancer looking tired and expectant. It was obvious he had just been asked something, but Danny had absolutely no idea what. He felt his cheeks burn with embarrassment, the back of his neck grow hot and uncomfortable.

"Er… what? Sorry." He muttered amid a ripple of chuckles from his classmates. He chanced a glance toward his friends and regretted it instantly. Tucker watched him with something akin to worry – Sam practically radiated with concern. They'd both been that way since he'd seen them this morning. As though he were a time bomb about to go off at any moment. And he was fairly sure his episodes of spacing out weren't helping his case of "Really, I'm fine," at all.

At a clear of the throat, Danny's attention darted back to Mr. Lancer. "Now that you have been brought back down to earth," he drawled and Danny cringed as another wave of laughter hit him, "Would you care to read some of your essay?"

Danny spluttered for a moment. "M-my essay?" He repeated nervously. He really hadn't planned on sharing and had been, in his opinion, a little too honest in it. "I'd rather not," he said flushing again. He caught Tucker's sympathetic grimace from the corner of his eye.

"He doesn't have to share, Mr. Lancer," Dash said loudly. "We already know his parents are bunch of—"

"Thank you, Mr. Baxter," Mr. Lancer cut off sharply. He looked back at Danny. "Just a paragraph, if you please, Mr. Fenton."

There was no room for argument. Danny looked down at the essay he had laid across his desk and searched for a non-embarrassing piece he would be willing to share. After a moment of extremely tense silence – at least, for him – he cleared his throat.

"Uh… I'm a local here, in Amity Park. Been here my whole life. Maybe that's why I can't wait to get out into the world, as far as I can get. I want—"

Danny felt his throat constrict and he stopped reading, panic at sharing his thoughts with the people that had laughed at him making him stop. He didn't want this bunch – aside from Tucker, Sam, and Mr. Lancer – knowing his thoughts. It just felt too open. He simply didn't trust them with these little pieces of him. He already felt like he'd given away too much, been too open with people he didn't even like. Mr. Lancer seemed to sense this since he had already moved on to another student, allowing him to escape the attention.

"You okay, dude?"

Danny rolled his eyes. "Tucker, I'm fine," he muttered while Star read about being on the cheerleading team and makeup brands she liked. "I didn't get enough sleep, that's all."

"You sure?" Sam asked, still looking at him with the same concerned gaze. He wished she'd stop.

"C'mon guys, I was only hit in the head with coleslaw yesterday. It washed out. I've had worse before. I'm telling you, I'm fine."

"But yesterday…"

"I know," Danny grimaced. "I'm sorry for blowing you guys off."

"That's not it." Sam glanced at Mr. Lancer and lowered her tone further. "Your mom called me last night."

Danny stared at her. "What?"

"Yeah, just after dinner."

"What did she say?"

"How on earth did she get your number?"

"Tuck, that's not the point!" Danny nodded for Sam to go on.

"She said that you'd been pretty angry that they'd come to school."

"Right," Danny sighed, running a hand through his black hair. "Sam, we just had a little fight." He frowned as he remembered his raised voice.

"Sam, what did she actually say?" Tucker asked.

Sam was silent for a moment, then, "I think I really embarrassed Danny yesterday at school, and he's more upset by it then he lets on. Will you and Tucker keep an eye on him for me?"

Danny stared. "So, that's why you're all worried?"

"Not me, dude," Tucker cut in with a grin. "I just know being bullied sucks."

"Tuck, we've been bullied since sixth grade."

"Doesn't make it any more fun."

"Look, Sam, Tuck, I only told her that I thought their obsession with ghosts was stupid… just better phrased."

At this, Sam glanced down and raised an eyebrow. "Oh really," she said causally. "Why do you have a paranormal book in your backpack then?"

Danny spluttered and looked down as well. Paranormal Phenomena stared back at him, its midnight blue cover twinkling up at him. He most certainly had not put that there. Or had he? Maybe he's been so lost in thought about the subject that he'd slipped it in unconsciously. "Uh…" He scratched the back of his neck.

"Hm?" Sam was smirking at him.

"Just something my mom said."

"Which would be—?" Tucker prompted.

Danny grimaced. "I-I told her that I didn't believe in ghosts and she said that I didn't have to. They believed in me." It was weird, the effect these words had on him. The instant they had left his lips a chill coursed through his body. It was as though the entire room had gotten colder, but no one seemed to notice it except for him. That itself made the sensation that much more ominous, more concerning. He shook his head, trying to clear his mind. He couldn't overthink it; that was dangerous.

It was silent for several minutes between them, then…

"You know," Sam said. She was looking thoughtful, if a bit hesitant. "I think it would be cool if ghosts existed."

"I didn't say that it wouldn't be," he answered slowly. "But that doesn't change the fact that they don't."

"Maybe…"

"Maybe?"

"Well, I mean," Sam shrugged. "What got your parent's obsessed with them in the first place? They had to have seen something that they couldn't explain. And c'mon, you are constantly exposed to ectoplasm. What is that stuff it it's not ghost… whatever it was you said before?"

Danny swallowed and looked down at his desk. It was coming back, the same feeling he'd had after his mother had first said those words. The hope that it might be true, but this time the idea wasn't immediately crushed down by his subconscious. Sam had a definite point, what was that green glowing stuff if not ectoplasm? No. He nearly kicked himself. It was just chemistry, not ghosts, that made the stuff. He was letting his mind, his excitement run away with him again.

"Sam, I want to believe that they are real, more than anything, but they're not. Okay?"

"Don't you think you're—"

Whatever Sam was trying to say was drowned out when Mr. Lancer called toward them to stop talking. After that, they didn't have another chance to continue the subject as Mr. Lancer made both Sam and Tucker share their papers and they didn't want to risk getting into more trouble. Danny did cast several curious looks in Sam's direction though, unable to stop himself from thinking about what'd she said, his counter-argument loosing some of its stamina.

They believe in you.

No. Don't think about it. He'd already spend way too much time mulling it over and, if he weren't careful, it would drive him mad. He couldn't let it. He didn't want to go mad like his folks, did he? He couldn't let it get to him. It wasn't true, and eventually his parents would see that.

"Danny. It's time to go."

"Wha—right." It'd run away with him. Again. He shoved his books back into his bag and followed Tucker to the front of the class where they were handing Mr. Lancer their papers. He held out his, but Mr. Lancer didn't take it. He merely glanced at him before accepting a paper from a classmate behind him.

"Mr. Fenton, please stay a few minutes after class."

Danny stared at him. "But math—"

"Mr. Worth will be satisfied with a note."

Danny, perplexed as to why Mr. Lancer wanted to talk to him, could only nod and moved out of line. Sam opened her mouth but Mr. Lancer cut her off.

"Danny will rejoin you in Math, Miss Manson." His tone left no room for argument. Sam frowned but nodded.

"See you, then," she said to Danny with a meaningful expression before proceeding out into the hallway. Something told him that their conversation from before wasn't near finished and he wasn't sure whether that worried or excited him. He liked thinking about the possibility, about the smallest chance that they were in fact real – even if they weren't. Because they didn't exist. They weren't real.

Why did it feel like he was trying to convince himself?

The rest of the class had gone now, and Mr. Lancer was placing the papers in a neat stack on his desk. Now that ghosts had been temporarily swept from his mind, he allowed himself to worry about the reason he had been asked to stay behind. Had his mother said something to Mr. Lancer as well? That seemed unlikely, but not impossible – she had called Sam after all. Or, maybe he was upset that they had been talking in the back of the classroom, rather than pay attention to their classmates.

But he would've asked Sam and Tucker to stay too, then.

When Mr. Lancer didn't say anything, Danny cleared his throat. "Mr. Lancer?" he prompted.

Silence.

"Uh… can I go?"

"Please read the first paragraph to your essay, Mr. Fenton."

"Sir?" Danny said startled. Mr. Lancer merely nodded toward his paper and, feeling increasingly confused, he started reading.

"It's hard to describe exactly what kind of person I am. It's like starting in the middle of a novel and expecting to understand what is going on. But you can't really understand until you've read from the beginning, taken a walk in my past. Maybe then you'll understand why I am the way I am."

Danny paused there, looking up at Mr. Lancer. "Why do you want me to read this?" he asked, his brows furrowing.

"Because," Mr. Lancer replied, and Danny saw the smallest glimmer of a smile on his bored face, "You wouldn't read it during class."

Danny frowned. "I read a little."

"Not enough."

"Aren't you just going to read it while you grade it, anyway?"

"I am," Mr. Lancer took his paper and put it on top his stack. "But you need to hear the tone of the writer in order to better understand their work."

Danny stared at him. "I… that actually makes sense."

Mr. Lancer nodded. He was already scribbling away a note for him. "Normally, I wouldn't give you a second chance to earn participation points. But after yesterday," he trailed off pointedly and Danny nodded. "In the future I expect you to read what you've written."

"Yeah, I'll do that. Thanks." Danny said, relieved.

Mr. Lancer handed him the note, but before he could leave he heard Mr. Lancer call after him. "You have no reason to be ashamed of your work, or your family, Mr. Fenton."

As he left the class, his chest swelled with pride at Mr. Lancer's words, the smile that spread across his face broad. But it wasn't uncalled for. Even from adults, the words that he shouldn't be ashamed of his parents were rare. And he cherished them. It was one of the few things he never told Sam and Tucker. He didn't tell them for any particular reason, just that he knew they wouldn't quite understand what he felt at those instances. And because they were the ones who said it too him most often.

But his happiness was short-lived. The words that had had made his day were knocked out of his mind.

Literally.

He was barely a few feet from the math classroom when something hard collided with his backpack and he was thrown painfully into the locker-lined wall. Before he could regain his composure, someone grabbed the back of his shirt and jerked him forward, bringing him face to face with—

"Dash! What—" The rest of his sentence turned into a grunt as Dash picked him up by the front of his collar and slammed him against the lockers, hard.

"Hey, Fent-turd. Did you know that you were talking while I read my essay? You might've missed the piece where I talked about wailing on puny nerds."

Great. The bullying was raising another notch. He shouldn't have been surprised, shouldn't have been upset, but he was. He was angry. He fumbled with Dash's hand, trying to loosen his grip, but his were too small in comparison.

"Dash, let me go!"

"No, I don't think so."

"C'mon!"

"If you hadn't noticed, Fent-turd, you're a puny nerd. You even have freaky parents."

There was nothing for it. He had to play all his cards. "You didn't used to think they were freaky," he muttered coolly.

Dash seemed to pause for a second and Danny saw a flicker of fear in his eyes. Taking his advantage, Danny went on, "Yeah, your pals don't know that do they? Bet they don't know why you never bullied me before."

"That was years ago." But Danny heard the uncertainty in his voice.

"Yeah? Think that matters? Everyone still remembers when Nathan threw up on the bus." It was a low blow, and he knew it. There was no way anyone would forget that, even it if had happened in elementary school. It had been in the middle of a thunderstorm and the bus had started to spin. But he counted on Dash's idiocy to ignore that fact. And to his great relief, he did.

Danny felt his feet touch the ground again and he let out a sigh of relief that was quickly stifled. Dash had grabbed his shoulder, his face too close for comfort. "That was your last free-bi Fenton," he said in a low voice. "You're all out of cards."

"What are you talking about?" Danny said shoving his hand away. "What makes you think that I won't use that dirt?"

Dash smiled. Danny knew that smile, hated that smile. It was the smile that said, I've won. "Because, no one will believe you."

"Why not?" But he already knew why.

"Because If I say you're lying, no one will believe you. I'm only letting you go now to respect that dirt."

And with that, he strode away leaving Danny to massage his throbbing shoulder. If it didn't bruise he'd be lucky. Staring after the football player he felt a sudden urge to shout after him, but he quickly smothered the impulse. There had been a time when Dash hadn't hated him, wouldn't have made fun of him, might've listened to him. But that time had long since passed.

Danny grimaced as he re-hoisted his backpack and he was just about to walk into math class when something made him freeze. Very slowly, as though expecting it to disappear when he looked at it, Danny turned to stare at the dent in the locker that had been made when Dash had slammed him into it. It wasn't concern for the school property that made his breathing hitch, made the hair on his arms stand on end.

It was the realization that the lockers in the English wing had been dented in the aftermath of his parents' intrusion. And, he knew they hadn't been previously, nor did his parent's weapons leave dents like that.

Someone or something had been slammed into it. Just like he had.

Ashes to Ashes

"I told you that your parent's couldn't be completely crazy."

"Sam, I'm not saying anything for sure. I'm just saying—"

"—That you might be wrong?"

It was lunch.

Danny had decided, in the interest of his safety, that it might be better if they went outside to eat. Plus, this way, they could talk about controversial subjects – like ghosts – without the risk of being overheard and ridiculed.

Tucker and Sam had realized something was up the instant they'd seen him walk into math. It hadn't been hard to tell, really. His shirt had been stretched out at the collar so much that it was ruined and his hair had been an even more unruly mess than usual… but his eyes. The dawning realization that had filled their sky-blue color meshed with fear and joy in such a way that he had appeared dazed and panicked.

Luckily, Mr. Worth hadn't question his lateness – the note proving sufficient enough – allowing him to relate to his friends all that had happened during the few minutes of separation, and most importantly, the revelation with the lockers. But, they hadn't had time to really discuss it in class. Mr. Worth didn't seem like the type to tolerate side-chat and they hadn't wanted to test his tolerance.

"No," Danny said as he opened his sack-lunch, "Well, okay, yes."

For some reason, Sam looked a little too happy.

"But, it's only a possibility! It's not even a likely one!"

"Dude. Dents in a locker?" Tucker grinned. "Its hard evidence."

Danny stared at the pair of them. "Why are you so eager to believe it?"

"Why aren't you?" Sam countered, folding her arms. "For the first time, we have some proof that ghosts could exist. I would've thought that you, Mr. I-want-to-believe-they-are real-more-than-anything, would jump right on it."

Danny was silent for a long moment, staring at the peanut and jelly sandwich in his hands. It was true. He did want to believe it, he couldn't believe he'd found this breakthrough; his previous arguments were falling apart. But…

"What if it's not, though?" He said slowly. "What if we're wrong and those dents had been there previously? What if we're just being stupid?"

He felt a hand on his shoulder. "Then maybe it's okay to be stupid."

"Thanks Tuck."

"Personally," Sam said. "I'd rather live in a world with ghosts. It'd be so much more fun and mysterious, never knowing whether the shadows are looking back at you or not."

Danny looked up and laughed. "Great, I don't think I'll ever walk down a deserted alleyway again." He sighed and found his hand rubbing the back of his neck. "You don't—" he hesitated.

"Don't what?" Sam was watching him curiously.

He avoided her violet gaze in favor inspecting his shoe. "Don't think we're crazy thinking, you know, that they're real—Ouch!"

Sam had punched his arm. "Of course not!" she said hitting him again. "You might've lost faith, but I didn't! Does that make me crazy? Huh?"

"Wha—? No! Ouch! Absolutely not! Stop hitting me!" Danny found himself laughing.

"You're parent's aren't crazy either!" Smack "You have to let yourself accept the impossible every once and a while." Smack "Just because you can't see it doesn't mean it's not there! You can't see your brain, how do you know it's still there?"

"Okay, I get it! Sorry! Stop it! My arm hurts!" He said between guffaws of laughter. Then Tucker started poking him. Danny looked up, surprised to see an odd dreamy expression spreading across his friend's face. "What?"

"Paulina."

Within an instant, the laughter died and Danny had turned to follow Tucker's eyes. There was a reason for Paulina's popularity, both among girls and boys alike, and that reason was beauty. Her long dark brown hair held a slightly wave to it as it cascaded down her shoulders, the strands pushed away from her face with a clip. A soft complexion and perfect proportions, she looked more like a senior than an incoming freshman.

And Danny had had a crush on her since the seventh grade.

Tucker liked her too. Then again, Tucker liked every girl. Danny didn't quite understand his philosophies on dating, nor did he want to – since it didn't seem to work.

She was carrying a lunch tray to one of the tables, talking with the rest of the cheerleading squad. Danny sighed, his hand popping his chin up. "Paulina," he said in the exact same dreamy tone that Tucker had used not ten seconds ago.

"What do you think she's talking about?" Tucker asked with a silly grin on his face.

"She's probably not talking about anything intelligent." Sam said from behind them. She didn't sound annoyed, merely exasperated so Danny didn't turn around. He had the mind of a teenage boy after all.

"Does it really matter?" he said with a grin.

"Nope."

"Uh… Danny…"

"You haven't even talked to her either, Sam. She might not be as bad as you think."

"You might want to stop ogling her."

"Why?"

"Because Fent-turd, Paulina is off-limits to losers."

Danny choked and whirled around, the blood draining from his face. This was too soon! Couldn't he have given him the rest of the day, at least? It'd barely been a few hours. He scrambled to his feet but Dash was quicker, grabbing him by his already ruined collar and hoisting him nearly a foot into the air.

"H-hey Dash," he said weakly. "Back already?"

"Let him go!" Tucker made a step toward them but was intercepted by Qwan, another member of the football team. He was burly, like Dash, though his face was kinder. Danny always thought that Dash pushed the Asian into his schemes, but he supposed he would never really know.

"Or what?" Qwan said with a raised eyebrow.

"It was just a suggestion…" Tucker said nervously.

"This isn't." Sam had gotten to her feet as well, glaring at the pair of them.

"Yeah, well, who cares what you say?" Dash said dismissively.

"Don't talk to her like that!" Danny snapped, but his anger quailed beneath Dash's malevolent gaze.

"Don't tell me what to do."

"C'mon, Dash," Danny said in an undertone so that the other's wouldn't hear. "I thought you were going to let me off."

"That time. Not for the day." Dash smirked.

The anger swelled within him once more. "What, so that's how little our friendship was?"

"That's how long ago it was."

And then he saw the fist fly for his face.

Ashes to Ashes

One thing was for sure; his shirt was completely ruined now. His collar was ripped, his front stained with a dribble of blood. A wad of tissue was held firmly against his nose, trying to stifle the flow. He hoped it stopped soon; he was starting to get a little light-headed. The nurse looked worried too, pacing the small infirmary and shooting him questions every few seconds.

"Are you feeling dizzy?"

"Not really."

"Are you feeling nauseous?"

"No."

And so the questions went. She'd assured him that Dash would get punished. Danny didn't believe her. He'd never been punished before now; he knew his parents had some influence in the school, not to mention he was a star athlete. He'd get a reprimand that he wouldn't pay any heed too and then he'd be right back at it. That was what always happened before, in the lower levels of learning.

This wasn't anything new either. He'd been picked on before now, even hit. Never by Dash though, and he'd managed to escape it for a while after what he suspected was Dash's protection. It'd been a weird friendship. No wonder it hadn't lasted.

"I think it's stopped now," the nurse breathed with relief.

Danny checked and sure enough, she was right. He was almost disappointed. It might've been worth getting hit if he'd gotten to ride in the ambulance. Then again, it was very lucky that Dash had only managed to get in one hit before his friends had practically dog-piled him. He had a dim memory of Tucker getting a bloody lip, but he couldn't remember the events that had led up to it.

He'd seen stars for several seconds after that blow. It was amazing his nose wasn't broken. At least, that's what the nurse said, she could be wrong. He wasn't quite sure what her level of expertise was.

Anyway, a teacher had seen the commotion and split it up. As that thought crossed his mind, he looked up. Mr. Worth was watching him from his place against the wall, a strange almost analytical look in his grey eyes. Since asking if he was all right when he'd first brought him in, he hadn't said anything. Just watching him.

He would've thought it weird if he hadn't been bleeding all over the place.

"Do you want me to get your sister?" Mr. Worth asked as the nurse retrieved a new tissue for him to clean himself up with.

"No." Definitely not.

Mr. Worth nodded, as though he had expected this response. After another few minutes of silence – during which Danny set about wiping his hands off while the nurse returned to her computer – he asked, "Have you given any thought about what I said before?"

Danny's head shot up. "Yes." A lot.

"And?"

He gaped at Mr. Worth like a fish for a moment, realizing something that had been right in front of him. Why had Mr. Worth talked to him about ghosts? It was so obvious now that he thought about it. "Y-you noticed the lockers too!"

Mr. Worth smiled. "I did, indeed."

"Why—why didn't you say anything?"

"Because you wouldn't have believed me if you haven't figured it out for yourself."

Danny was silent for a moment, his thoughts running a thousand miles per hour again. He hadn't been the only one to consider it. An adult had realized. Sam had been right. Something warm was in his stomach; a burning that was strange but also comfortable. It settled in his heart, an almost childish joy seizing him. It'd been the same thing he'd felt, for just the briefest moment, after his mother had said those words too him.

Belief.

"So, Mr. Fenton do you believe in ghosts?"

"Yeah. I think I do."