Samantha Manson gnawed at her lip nervously as she fixed her eyes on the ever-darkening clouds that gathered against the pale white sky. A storm was brewing over Amity Park.
It was hard to believe that only a few short hours ago, she had woken up to a beautiful spring day, feeling unexpectedly refreshed after dancing the night away with all of her schoolmates at the Amity Park Welcome next to her date to the Prom.
Winston was unlike anyone she had ever known before; he was cheerful, bright, lively in a way that should have grated on her very nerves, yet only raised her spirits when she found herself in her presence. He was everything she should have hated, but somehow, he seemed to seep into black tar that was her life and balanced it out with his special brand of optimistic hope. And hope was a rare commodity growing up in a town like this.
No, they were not official; up until that night, Sam hadn't been sure she was looking for anything to call her own. Her parents didn't understand it, but they were relieved; their daughter was far too young to settle down, but at the same time they had expressed interest in the idea of Sam having someone special in her life – someone with a future ahead of him, someone who could protect her.
Danny could protect her. Her parents hadn't understood that either. But it didn't matter anymore, as far as they were concerned. Their daughter had reached the home stretch; she was going to graduate high school, and leave town to go to college, somewhere far, far away where Danny Fenton could never drag her down again.
She clenched her jaw at the thought. Sam had always loathed the way her parents talked about the Fentons, the way they looked down on them with the ease of superiority. How they had cooed over them both when Winston arrived to take her to the party, and she could see the relief shining in their eyes and read the thoughts that echoed in their heads. Well, we might barely know him, but at least he's not Danny Fenton.
Danny. It was hard to think of him now without her heart squeezing out a little dose of sympathy and guilt. Danny had been strangely silent about what plans he had in mind after high school, which alarmed her sometimes into believing that he had no plans lined up at all. But every time she questioned him, he seemed to have some vague notion ready: stay in Amity Park, go to college, keep going on his path here. Which was why it was easy for her to shrug away her concern; Danny had a path, after all; he knew what he was going to do with his life, and however unfair it seemed to her, there was little she could do about it. Danny seemed to have accepted his calling in life, and he didn't seem inclined to give it up any time soon, and the truth of the matter was, Sam didn't see how he could give it up even if he wanted to. Amity Park needed Danny Phantom, and nothing was going to change that.
Something good is going to happen, Danny, you'll see. Things are going to change. I can feel it. Samantha sighed. It had been so easy to believe it the night she said those words. Prom Night had left them feeling like they were on the precipice of greatness, that, with just a few more steps, they would achieve everything they ever wanted. How could she have been so wrong? Now, staring up at the rumbling thunderclouds, she felt as though she had woken from a dream, a brief respite, only to find herself back where she had always been – in the dreary town of Amity Park. Perhaps change was coming, it was true, but now in the cold harsh light of day, she felt like a fool to ever believe that it could bring with it something good.
The door creaked open, pulling her out of her ruminations, and she turned away from the sight of the gathering clouds through the large picture window to find Tucker shuffling in.
"He's taking a shower," Tucker reported in response to Sam's questioning gaze. "I think he just wants to be alone for a while."
Sam nodded and turned her attention back out the window. The three friends were currently holed up in the Manson's palatial estate, as they had been all afternoon following the discovery they'd made in the nondescript van earlier that day. It was the only place Danny could feel safe.
"Do you think they're watching you?" Danny had asked when she suggested they spend the day at her house.
"No," she had answered confidently. "But even if they are, they'd have to get through an electric fence, guard dogs, and more security cameras than I can even count. Not to mention the snootiest housekeepers in all of Amity Park."
Danny had reluctantly agreed, but even on the way over, Tucker and Sam had been able to sense his distress. When this happened, Danny either wanted to talk it out with them until his feelings made sense, or, alternatively, keep it all bottled up until he was practically bursting. This was a case for the latter, it seemed, and so Sam and Tucker had left well enough alone.
"You brought these with you?" Tucker asked with surprise, picking up the stack of photographs he found on the desk.
"What are they going to do, ask us to give them back?" Sam shot derisively. Tucker tilted his head in agreement, and flopped onto her bed without taking his eyes off the photograph in his hand.
"So what do you think of this?" he asked eventually, still studying the image with a furrowed brow. "Because I gotta tell you, I'm completely lost on this one."
"Kwan disappearing into thin air is definitely evidence that something's wrong," Sam stated, moving over to pick up a photograph for herself as well. "Danny sounded so sure that he wasn't being possessed when he went to check at the hospital. How could he have missed something like this?"
"Danny said his powers were acting whack lately. He couldn't detect Spectra, and she was at that hospital the whole time too," Tucker pointed out.
"Yeah, but that's different," Sam shook her head, still pacing about the room. "Spectra was trying to hide from him though; Kwan was unconscious. It's not the same."
"Okay," Tucker amended. "So maybe Spectra blocked his powers somehow when she was trying to avoid being noticed; or maybe the ghost inside Kwan was unconscious at the time too, so Danny couldn't feel it; or…" Tucker's eyes brightened when he remembered something, "or maybe it's because Danny just wasn't able to sense him in the first place."
"What do you mean?" Sam frowned.
Tucker jumped to his feet in excitement. "Don't you remember?" he said, "When Danny first found out that Kwan was being possessed by a ghost, he was beating himself up over it for not realizing it sooner, and what was the reason that he didn't realize it sooner? Because he couldn't sense it!"
"Tucker, you're talking really fast," Sam tried to calm the overly-excited boy down. "What are you trying to say?"
"I'm saying Kwan's been possessed this whole time and we never realized it!" Tucker burst out. "Remember that day Danny freaked out at the mall and then he showed up at your place saying that Kwan was a ghost? He said he didn't realize it before because it had somehow blocked his ghost sense. Every time Kwan was around him, Danny couldn't sense a ghost nearby, and that's what finally tipped him off, remember?"
Yes, Sam remembered. She distinctly remembered the night Danny had showed up at her house, sweaty and panting and desperate to talk to her, and how he had started rambling all those crazy things about Kwan being possessed by a ghost that wanted to protect him.
"So," Tucker drawled out, "that explains everything – Danny couldn't sense Spectra at the hospital because he only went there to visit Kwan, who was still blocking his ghost powers, and Danny couldn't sense the ghost when he overshadowed Kwan because, I dunno, the ghost was unconscious or something. But it all fits!"
"It's a nice story, Tuck," a gruff voice saved Sam from having to respond, "but it's reaching a little too far for comfort."
Sam straightened her posture as Danny entered the room, toweling his hair which was still damp from his recent shower.
"Well, what's wrong with it?" Tucker demanded, clearly attached to the idea that he had solved the mystery that had eluded them so. "It all fits, doesn't it?"
"It does seem to cover all the bases, Danny," Sam said uncertainly, unable to find a flaw in the logic.
Danny shook his head and sat heavily down on the couch. "The pieces all fit, sure, but they're in the wrong order," he said, taking one of photographs out of the stack and studying it intently. "It doesn't explain why I couldn't feel Tyrant inside of Kwan when I went inside him. It doesn't explain how I saw him kiss his mom on the cheek before heading to school. It doesn't explain his behavior when he's with Star."
There was a moment of silence as his words sank in. Danny thumbed the picture of Kwan snapping his fingers in the air absent-mindedly. No, this did not explain any of that, but it did shed light on one thing however. The day he witnessed Poindexter ascend to Heaven, the translucent ghost had told him Kwan had been crying ever since the Guys in White had brought him back to school. Danny had no doubt that this was the reason why. Whatever was going on with the Asian jock, one thing was clear: the Guys in White were aware of it, and that terrified Kwan.
Danny balked at the suggestion that he stay over for the night, citing a desire not to offend her parents, but Sam waved off his concerns as ridiculous. She had spent the night at the Fenton residence plenty of times, and it was only fair that she got to return the favor.
"You can sleep in the west wing if makes you feel so uncomfortable," she announced as she led him through the seemingly endless hallway. "No one will bother you there. My parents haven't been here since the house was built."
Taking the third right, she led him through the handsome mahogany doors that led to the guest apartment, unable to help the small smile that curved her lips when he took in the décor with wonderment apparent in his eyes.
"You rich people are so ridiculous," he said, running a finger along the surface of a polished vanity table. "How many living rooms do you need?"
Sam shrugged. "It's excessive, sure, but it has its uses. It made for a great hiding place when I was younger and my parents tried to get me to dress up for dinner. My mom was in love with all those old black-and-white movies where they would wear ballgowns to the table."
Danny settled on the plush pink couch, wiggling his butt in order to get comfortable. "You're sure this is okay?" he asked cautiously again.
"Of course," Sam said breezily. Truth be told, it was easy to get lonely in a house like this, and she welcomed the company whenever she could. "Just call your parents and tell them you'll be staying over tonight. Dinner should be ready soon. Tuck's raiding the fridge, and he's going to put all those home-ec classes to good use."
"Okay," Danny nodded, then after a pause, added warmly, "Thanks, Sam."
For some reason, seeing her friend now, hunched over and worried, raised a lump in Sam's throat. "Don't mention it, Danny," she said quietly, then shut the doors and left him in peace.
All the signs that they had been keeping track of, all the changes that had occurred in their little town, had so far only sounded the alarm in their heads that something was off. Up to this point, no matter what had occurred, they thought they had had a handle on it. When the ghosts attacked, they were there to beat it back into the Ghost Zone; when Kwan was possessed, Danny was right on the case, tracking the clues they were too blind to see and interrogating the ghost that had overshadowed their classmate; when Walker had betrayed their truce in order to claim the Plasmius soul, there was Danny, when the Guys in White established their presence, they all worked together to maintain a low profile and keep a lookout to make sure they didn't get away with anything. They thought they'd had a handle on things. This, however, changed everything. Something had been going on underneath the surface, something that had escaped their attention entirely, and now things were very rapidly spinning out of control. Who knew what Kwan was up to, operating all these weeks without their knowledge?
Her dark thoughts were interrupted when she made her way into the kitchen where she found, to immense surprise, Tucker hollering for help as he tried valiantly to keep the large blender from tipping over with the force with which it minced the various ingredients the boy had put inside. She rushed forward to help, tipping the large appliance back onto its perch and unplugging it so that it wouldn't bounce forward again.
Tucker was perspiring and his breath came out in heavy puffs. Sam watched this display bemusedly. "You're pathetic," she said flatly.
"Like I said," Tucker replied nonchalantly, brushing the imaginary lint off his shoulder, "I'm really more of the tech guy." He gave the oversized blender a mistrustful look. "What kind of an industrial nightmare is that, anyway? It could have devoured me alive!"
"It's just a blender," Sam rolled her eyes. "I thought you were taking cooking classes at school?"
"Sure, using normal-sized kitchen appliances," Tucker responded, gesturing to the blender that had sought to kill him moments ago. "Not … that."
Sam observed the pool of sludge that dripped from the edges of the container. "Well, at least you managed to keep the lid on," she acquiesced. "What are you making?"
"I was actually about to make my specialty," Tucker bragged.
"Which is?" Sam prompted.
"Curry."
Sam lifted her eyebrow, definitely amused now. "You know how to make curry."
"Sure I do," Tucker chided. "That exchange student from India taught me how. What was his name?"
"Arjun Tahir," Sam reminded. "Alright, go ahead. I hope you know what you're doing."
"Where are you going?" Tucker inquired as he began dicing up onions, the blade meeting the chopping board with practiced ease.
"Just going to check on my grandmother, see if she's feeling hungry," Sam said. "Don't make the food too spicy, Tuck – she won't be able to handle it."
"Shows how much you know, Sam. Haven't you heard that Indian food has all these restorative properties? Your grandmother will be up and tossing that wheelchair into the pool in no time," Tucker dismissed. Sam rolled her eyes, but didn't bother to argue the point.
The east wing of the mansion was considerably more cheerful than the guest quarters. The fancy lamps that hung from the ceiling above were constantly in use, bathing the hallway a welcoming hue. Her parents had saved their favorite pieces of décor for this side, allowing it to feel richer and more lived in at the same time.
Sam had never been a fan.
Pausing outside a plain white door, she knocked and busied herself turning away a framed picture on the vanity table of her as a young girl posing sourly with her parents in contrast to their forced grins. "Come in," a feeble voice sounded from the other side. Sam turned the gold-plated door knob and walked in to the darkened room.
"Oh, Sammy dear!" the voice was considerably more warm upon the sight of her. "Come in, come in."
"Hi, grandma," Sam injected a considerable amount of cheeriness into her tone as she crossed the room to press a kiss on her grandmother's forehead. "How are you feeling?"
"Just fine, dear," she eschewed. "Is that nice young man who came to pick you up last night gone?"
"He left this afternoon," Sam confirmed.
"Lovely, lovely." Long white hair rolled down from the elder woman's unraveling bun as she fought to sit up. Sam refrained from reaching out to help, knowing that her grandmother prided herself on whatever small accomplishments she could make. "Now, tell me dear, is he a good dancer?"
"Er…" Sam tried to recall. "I … guess?" Now that she thought about it, they hadn't really danced together that much. Mostly she remembered hanging out with Danny – and before he arrived, both Tucker and her had been busy trying to contact him.
"Wonderful, wonderful," her grandmother clapped her hands together. "Because I've always found that when a man is good on the dancefloor, he's usually a good man all around." The statement sounded innocuous on its own, but the salacious wink the old woman sent her way was enough to make her blush.
"Grandma!"
"Oh, Samantha," she chided, "by your age, the girls in my time were already engaged and halfway to the altar." A dirty smile slowly spread its way across her face. "How do you think we got the fellas interested?"
"Yeah, well, it wasn't like that," Sam muttered, her gaze lowered. She felt a comforting pat on her wrist.
"I know, dear. You're a good girl."
Sam busied herself fluffing the pillows as her grandmother settled into her position. "Where are your parents?"
"At work, I suppose," Sam reached over to smooth over the blanket. "Money never sleeps."
There was a weak chuckle above her. "You don't sound half as indignant about it as you used to be."
Sam shrugged. "I'm not. It's just the way things are. They need to work. One day I'll have to do the same." A rueful smile overcame her. "And if I'm lucky, one day I'll be able to make as much money as they have."
Another chuckle, and a warm hand closed over Sam's. "Maybe not as much money, dear."
Sam watched as her grandmother rested her arms over her torso. "And tell me, Bubelah, what about that other fellow of yours – the Fenton boy?"
"Danny?" Sam couldn't keep the surprise out of her voice. "What about him?"
"I was just thinking to myself how I don't hear his name so often anymore," came the answer, with a benevolent smile. "I thought he would be the one to take you out yesterday too."
"Well—" she could have told the truth; could have told her grandmother about how she spent the Prom by Danny's side until he disappeared, how she had spent more of the day after with him rather than her date who had driven down from college just to take her to a high school party, could have told her that Danny was on the other side of the house right now, preparing to stay the night, and longer if he needed to. But then she knew she would only be making that smile bigger, only to see it dim out again when her grandmother found out that Danny wasn't her boyfriend – and she would find out, because Sam knew that there was no way she would be able to lie about something like that to her beloved grandma. "We don't really think of each other that way anymore, grandma."
Her grandmother slowly turned her head to fix her eyes on her face. "Really?"
There was a long pause, then slowly, Sam nodded.
"Well don't worry, dear," she reached her hand down to entwine her fingers with her granddaughter's. "Lots of other fish in the sea." Another wavering smile as her grip tightened. "He doesn't know what he's missing."
This time, Sam's smile truly did reach her eyes. "We decided it would be better not to go for it, grandma."
"Maybe it would be, dear, maybe it would be," the old woman said agreeably. "But he still doesn't know."
Closing the door behind her quietly, Sam padded back down the hall until she found herself in the main living room, brightly lit and cheerful. She sighed and dropped heavily onto an overstuffed armchair, toeing off her heavy black boots and wiggling her toes in relief. Exhaustion weighed down on her bones, a sudden weariness from some undue pressure. She closed her eyes, relishing the chance to turn off her thoughts and surrender to the darkness, if only for a moment.
And it was hardly a moment gone by before her attention was piqued again as she caught a whiff of some strange smell. Her brows furrowed together and she drowsily raised her head from where it rested, inhaling deeper. The smell turned acrid, prompting her eyes to fly open in alarm, and before she knew it, she had sprung to her feet and was racing in the direction of the kitchen.
A wall of smoke hit her in the face as she shoved the door open, causing Sam to cough violently as it aggravated her senses. Fanning her arms in attempt to billow the smoke away, she stumbled forward, barely able to even see ahead, until finally she felt Tucker's bony frame and grabbed him hard.
Tucker, who was apparently so intent on fixing whatever had gone wrong with his dish he hadn't even noticed her entrance, gave a terrified yelp and jumped in fright.
"What are you doing?" Sam bellowed. "I left you alone for half an hour!"
"Your kitchen has no ventilation!" Tucker yelled back accusatorily. "I've been going crazy here trying to figure out how to switch on the exhaust fan to get rid of some of this smoke, and—"
"And you couldn't open a window in the meantime?" Sam stalked over to the panel of glass that took up the majority of one wall and heaved it open so as to allow the smoke-infested kitchen a chance to breathe, her vision clearing up almost instantaneously now that the smoke had an outlet in which to escape. They both took a moment to suck in the fresh air that filled the room as the fumes departed.
"So how's the curry?" Sam ventured after a moment.
Tucker's face turned sour. "Curry's off. We're having scrambled eggs and sausages instead."
Sam's eyebrows almost disappeared into her hairline. "Say what?"
Tucker threw up his arms. "The curry got ruined and this was the only thing in your fridge that I knew how to make." His gaze turned suspicious. "What the hell do you people eat?"
Sam rolled her eyes and strode over to the fridge, peering inside to take in the contents. "It can't be that hard. Alice cooks for all of us every night with no problems. Aren't you taking cooking class as your elective?"
"Well, it's a government-funded program, what did you expect?" Tucker said vehemently.
"Expected you to know how to make something other than curry and sausages, that's for sure," Sam muttered, pulling out a side of beef from the freezer. "How did you get through your classes all semester?"
"Um … I made it at home," Tucker's eyes darted nervously.
"Really?" Sam set the beef down on the counter and began to undo the plastic wrapping that sealed it. "But your class is almost an hour long. Weren't you required to make anything in front of the teacher?"
"Uh, yes," Tucker was visibly nervous now. "That is – I mean – I practiced at home a lot."
"But how did you know what you would be required to make beforehand?" Sam frowned.
"Uh, well … that is—"
"Tucker, what's going on?" Sam asked, definitely suspicious now.
"Alright, alright – I got a little help, okay?"
"Help?" she was completely confused now. "What do you mean, 'help'?"
"I got someone to … um … make the dishes for me."
"What?" Sam's eyes widened. "Who would do that?"
"A friend."
"What friend?" Sam asked derisively. "You have no friends except for us."
"That's not true," Tucker protested.
"Tucker," Sam said skeptically, "who would like you so much to risk getting caught cheating?"
"Well," Tucker gazed steadfastly at the floor, shuffling one leg abashedly, "it was … um, it was Eliot."
Sam blinked. "Eliot, who the hell is Eliot?"
Tucker stared at her incredulously. "Eliot – Eliot Hirsh?"
Sam's face remained blank.
Tucker rolled his eyes. "Oh for – Gregor!"
Sam let out a sound of dawning comprehension. Tucker shot her a disgusted look.
"Well, come on, he told me his name was Gregor! How was I supposed to know who you were talking about?"
"He's only been in Casper High for the last four years, Sam," Tucker pointed out.
Sam blinked again, nonplussed. "Has he? I don't think I've ever seen him."
"He takes good care making sure he doesn't run in to you," Tucker said flatly. "Where did you think he was all these years?"
Sam shrugged self-consciously. "I don't know, I guess I kind of assumed he moved away after that whole thing."
Tucker quirked an eyebrow in amusement. "Wow," he said. "I never knew you were so self-absorbed, Sam."
"Well, where's he been hiding all these years?" Sam shot defiantly.
"He's pretty much been in almost all our classes," Tucker informed.
"So why is he helping you cheat?"
"It's not cheating, it's—"
"Oh, Tucker, please," Sam cut him off. "Danny gets you to do his shop class project, you get Gregor to do your cooking – am I the only one who actually did their own work?"
"It's your fault for choosing drama," Tucker shrugged. "I would have totally let you in on it if you were in home ec."
"No you wouldn't, you would have tried to get me to do your work for you instead," Sam disputed.
"Would you have?"
"No!"
"Then what are you bitching about?" Tucker cried. Sam palmed at her face in exasperation.
There was a pause between them before Tucker asked, "So what are you going to do with the beef?"
"I don't know," Sam considered, tapping her chin. "Maybe Danny knows what to do with it. He's pretty good with the whole 'self-sufficient' thing."
"Where is he anyway?" Tucker looked about, as though expecting Danny to walk through a wall and join them.
"He's probably just getting settled in his room," Sam stated. "I left him to tell his parents he was staying over. Come on, let's go see what he's up to."
They departed, leaving the slab of meat to ooze in its own juices upon the countertop. "So you don't even know how to make scrambled eggs, and you thought you could handle curry?"
"Hey, shut up!" Tucker said, letting the door swing shut behind him. "I was totally paying attention when that guy taught me. It was just the first time I tried it, that's all."
So they made their way through the long corridors, sniping at each other over every little topic with easy camaraderie.
"So what are your parents getting you for graduation?"
"Oh, I don't know, probably some cash or something. My mom always tries to get me something cute, so my dad tries to make up for it."
"Aw man, my mom's present is getting me a bank account."
"Don't you already have a separate bank account?"
"Not to their knowledge," Tucker said in a surly tone. "Now my mom is going to expect to track my cash in college and I'm going to have to split what I make between the one they have with me and the one they don't know about."
"Bad luck, Tuck," Sam breezed, stopping outside Danny's door and knocking. The two of them lingered about for a few seconds before knocking again.
"Maybe he's asleep," Tucker suggested in a hushed tone.
"I'd rather he eat something first," Sam said.
"I thought we were coming here to make him cook?"
"Yeah, well, I'd rather eat at some point too," Sam retorted, already turning the doorknob. "Besides, if nothing else we can always call for pizza. Danny?"
"Man, you got another living room in here?" Tucker eyed the fancy armchairs and plasma screens. "You guys have got way too much money to burn."
"Come on, help me check the bedrooms," Sam gestured.
"Bedrooms," Tucker muttered to himself. "Plural."
The apartment-styled wing did indeed feature several bedrooms, but none of them yielded what they were after. Having called out her friend's name for the fifth time now, Sam was finding it hard to breathe.
"He must have gotten lost or something," she rationalized. "He must have tried to come and find us and he got lost."
"Yeah, maybe," Tucker said doubtfully. "Hey, has that window always been open?"
Sam's attention turned to where Tucker was pointing at. "No," she said slowly. "No one comes here except for the maids, and they always keep everything locked. But Danny doesn't need to open windows, and he wouldn't leave like that without telling us first."
Tucker gave her a skeptical look, and Sam sighed.
"Alright, he bailed," she gave in. "Let's go find him and make sure he's okay."
Danny glided resolutely through the chill air, his mind full of murky and chaotic thoughts. He had been suffocating in that room, overwhelmed by the fancy furniture that stuffed every corner. He needed some air, he needed some space – but most of all, he needed to act. Things had gotten too far out of control, and those pictures they had discovered earlier that day had jolted him out of the holiday mood he'd found himself in.
Now he was soaring halfway through town, his mind suggesting all different directions. Should he go to Kwan's house and investigate the boy? Should he follow the Guys in White and learn more about their dealings? Or should he turn back and head to the hospital for another confrontation with Spectra?
Finding himself at the crossroads, he gritted his teeth and swerved left, heading in the direction of Vlad's mansion. Blinking his eyes to readjust focus, he curled his fingers tighter and surged forward.
The Fright Knight had warned him to stay away, but Danny was assuming the Knight would not leave his guarding spot over Vlad's body in the garden as long as Danny remained in the air.
He could see the observation tower protruding out now, the highest point of Vlad's mansion, piercing the skyline.
He began to slow down as he approached the monument, coming down to a gentle glide.
The wind ruffled teasingly through his wavy white hair when something caught his attention out of the corner of his eye.
Darting his head in alarm, Danny was forced to come to a complete halt, gaping as he spotted a something shooting through the skies.
Turning invisible at once, Danny hovered in midair and watched the figure clad in the sleek and black suit, boots and helmet zoom confidently through the skies balancing on nothing more than the little board that extended out from beneath his feet and propelled him forward. Watching the ghost hunter now, Danny felt the remnants of his old wound throbbing at the memory of their last encounter.
Keeping himself hidden, Danny started to sink down, allowing him body to deposit him soundly on the side of the road by Vlad's manor as his eyes remained steadily focused on the mysterious ghost hunter riding through the air. Apparently satisfied with the several miles that were now between him and the enemy, Danny's body relaxed enough to transform him back to its human state.
Danny hardly even noticed, , peering up through the fringes of his black hair, pressing himself against a tree to avoid detection. The hunter didn't know he was being watched.
Danny's attention was stolen away when bright lights washed over him, alerting him to the fact that a car was pulling up.
"Danny!" he heard Sam's voice as she poked through the sunroof of her father's spare Mercedes as it jerked forward under Tucker's unpracticed steering.
The tyres squealed to a stop when Tucker and Sam located him standing right before them in the glaring headlighs, cutting off the engine and throwing the doors open with no thought to the fact that they had just stopped their vehicle in the middle of the street to launch themselves at Danny.
"Thank God," Sam's voice was muffled in the crook of Danny's neck as she pressed herself into him. "We didn't know where to look, you didn't even leave a note—"
"Told you he'd be here," Tucker added in proudly.
"We're so lucky we picked the right place to check first, or else who knows what could have happened—" Sam rambled on, pulling away from Danny's frame, but clutching tightly at his white T-shirt. "What were you thinking, taking off like that? Tucker and I were just coming to get you for dinner and we didn't even know you'd left—"
"Dude?" Tucker said softly, noticing at once something was off about his best friend. Danny still hadn't tried to push Sam off of him and try to console her; rather, he was just standing there as if rooted to the spot, firmly resisting Sam's attempts to lead him into the car, keeping his eyes fixed in the sky. Tucker came up his other side, placing his hand on Danny's lank form while Sam's words trailed off when she realized Danny wasn't listening.
The two newcomers searched the skies, trying to pick out what it was that had Danny so enthralled, when suddenly Sam picked up on a moving object shooting by overhead, framed by the gathering clouds over Vlad's mansion, near the topmost tower that jutted out from the darkened estate/. She squinted her eyes in attempt to better discern what she was looking at. Was that … a person?
The three friends watched on as the ghost hunter rode by, unaware he was the subject of their attention, too lost in his enjoyment of cavorting the skies. "My life is falling apart, and I don't know how to make it stop," Danny blurted out, his voice raspy and unused.
Silence greeted this announcement, no one knowing what to say. So the three friends watched, and both Sam and Tucker rested their hands comfortingly on Danny's shoulders, three sets of eyes following the figure in the sky as it cut a swath through the gathering clouds.
Author's Note: This was a really hard chapter to write, which is why there was such a long waiting period between this one and the last one. I actually wanted to set this chapter at school the next day, but no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't make it happen. Finally when I turned my brain off and allowed my fingers to do the talking, this came out. I think the story really wanted a change of perspective just to get some of the other characters' voices out there instead of just Danny's, but I really enjoyed writing in Sam's POV for this one. It was a nice break from the usual, and I think it happened at a good time too.
More will be happening in the next chapter, and I'm trying to get it out ASAP! My goal is to reach 45 chapters by Christmas, which should allow me to finish the story off nicely in early 2011.
Thanks for reading everybody, and I can't wait for your reviews!