Hiya! Merry Christmas to one and all! Thought I'd give you all a little present so hope you like it! It's not exactly Christmas-y, but it's got its own charm.

Disclaimer: I don't own Danny, 'tis a crying shame, but there is it! Oh and the story about the monkeys is true! It happened a few months ago in India, scary, huh?

Reviewer notes are at the end as always.

Enjoy!

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The Soul Sepulcher

-By Sholay

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Chapter 6 — Stir it Up

"And in today's news, among the sudden rash of strange incidents occurring all around town, an explosion of fire broke out at the apartment building on McLain Street, the cause of which is yet undetermined. The fire was confined and extinguished relatively quickly. However, flames and smoke trapped a number of occupants inside the building. Luckily, local hero Danny Phantom arrived on the scene and aided in the successful rescue of over a dozen citizens. Thanks to our ghostly hero's efforts no one was harmed in the incident. Here to speak with us on the incident is co-anchor, Lance Thunder. Lance?"

"Huh?" A blond haired man looked up from where he had been checking his hair in a compact mirror. "What are we talking about again, Cathy?"

"Danny Phantom" Was the woman's withering response.

"Oh yeah! I remember that guy, green eyes, great complexion? Has the whole, creepy, glow-in-the-dark thing going for him? You know, that kid has am-azing hair!"

"O-kay then." Cathy stared at her partner for a moment. Then, shaking herself she looked back at the camera, plastering a smile on her face. "That's it for our daily news, next up, international check-point: A horde of angry monkeys attack a mayor in India—"

Sam flicked the TV off with a snap and all four teens collapsed back into their seats with laughter.

"Oh, good Lord… I can't believe he said that!" Sam choked out.

"I don't know whether to be flattered or disturbed: the news anchor thinks I have great complexion…" Danny deadpanned.

"Dude, I think he has a crush on you…" Tucker grinned at Danny, who mock-shuddered in response.

"But Danny…" Jazz, though also smiling, was the most sober out of the group; she sat up straight, turning to her brother. "Did you really do that? Pull all those people out of the building, I mean."

Danny shrugged. "Yeah… It wasn't a big deal. The fire doesn't affect me in ghost form and I basically went intangible to avoid the worst of the smoke and flames. You don't have to worry." He sent a saucy smirk over to his sister who just huffed in response. "Besides, I've had a lot of free time lately; there haven't been many ghost attacks, so I've been helping out around town where I can." Now wasn't that a change? Not even a week ago he'd been moaning and complaining about much the opposite.

"Aww, that's so sweet, Danny." Jazz reached over and ruffled his already messy hair.

"Hey!" Danny cried in indignation, swatting her hand away. "Don't touch the 'do; Lance Thunder loves this hair!"

"Hah, yeah, take fashion advice from the guy who thinks eye-shadow is the next male icon." Sam said sarcastically.

Danny feigned a hurt look. "And what exactly is that supposed to mean, missy?"

"Nothing Danny," Sam smirked. "That red oval on your tee-shirt is simply smashing."

"You'd better believe it! This is my favorite shirt!" He exclaimed.

"The sad thing is: you're actually not kidding…"

"Oie!"

"Hey…" Tucker's nose lifted into the air—not unlike a bloodhound's—and he sniffed. "I think your filet mignon has just passed optimum energy absorption and is beginning to burn."

"My steak!" Jazz cried, jumping to her feet. "Oh no, oh no! I forgot completely! Now it'll be overcooked and it'll be charred and I'll have to scrape off all the blacked carbon off the top or we'll all get food poisoning, or cancer, or—!"

"Relax, Jazz…" Danny rose to his feet in a single, fluid motion. He gave his sister an easy grin and she stopped mid-way through her hysterical rant. "I'll take care of it."

"Oh, but Danny," Jazz immediately changed her tone. "You made dinner yesterday, and it's my turn."

"Jazz, you know very well that you can't handle messing up. You'll just make an even bigger mess." The rashness of his words were dulled by the smile on his face. "I can handle it…" He moved into the kitchen but appeared again in the doorframe just a second later. "Besides," he added, a mischievous glint in his eyes, "I don't think I could handle choking down another one of your 'chemistry experiments' gone wrong."

"Ohh… get outta here, Danny!" Jazz threw a pillow at him and he just laughed. But then the pillow smacked him straight in the face and his laughter broke off, he looked down at the pillow, a strange expression on his face.

"Danny?" Sam asked. "What…?"

"Oh, hah, didn't see it coming, good one Jazz…" He gave off a short burst of obviously forced laughter and ducked back into the kitchen.

Jazz, Sam and Tucker all exchanged glances.

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Danny paused, just past the threshold of the door, but out of sight from the three in the family room. Cocking his head, he listened.

There was a moment of science, then:

"Hey whadday lookin' at?!" Tucker's shout broke through the air.

"I just can't believe that you're barely pulling a B in Foreign Languages and yet you managed to say 'filet mignon' with a perfect French accent." Danny smiled to himself; he could practically see Sam's eyebrow raise and her lips pull back in a smirk as she said this.

Satisfied that they weren't talking about him, Danny moved on to attend to the burnt dinner. Grabbing a dishrag, Danny flipped the oven off and opened the door. Large plumes of smoke billowed out and Danny waved at the smoke with the rag, stepping back. Luckily, he had anticipated this.

The problem with the Fenton Thermal Energy Converter (F-TEC for short… Honestly, why they couldn't have just called it an 'oven' and be done with it was beyond Danny) was that it had been built to suppress smoke and fire. So used to random explosions and gas leaks, his parents now created everything in the Fenton household to be either military regulation or—at the very least—bolted to the ground. (The instigating point had been a toaster with a severe gas leak that had caused a rather… unfortunate accident a few years ago when a simple missile launcher had turned the entire house—Thankfully empty of its occupants at the time—into an overgrown rocket, sending the house sky high…The bad news was that the entire house had had to be rebuilt… but FentonWorks was now the official name of a rather oddly shaped asteroid that orbited the sun and was sighted once every 40 years.)

At any rate, it took something just short of open flame before anything could be smelled from outside the F-TEC, even with Tucker's impressive olfactory skills. So, upon pulling out the wire rack, Danny wasn't surprised to see that the once tender steak meat was now little more than charcoal.

Throwing it out, Danny went to plan B: stir fry. Bringing out the necessary ingredients, pausing only to wash his hands, Danny set a pot and pan on the stove (the Fenton Stove, of course) and got to work. He pulled some leftover meat—from the dinner he'd made last night—from the fridge. Then he drew out one of the sharper knives in the cupboard and with efficient ease, sliced the flesh into thin shades. Turning up the heat under the pan, he added a few drops of oil then dropped the meat slices carefully into it. Next he filled the pot with some water and set the heat on high. Checking the bag of frozen vegetables, he saw that it wouldn't be enough, so he pulled out some fresh greens from the fridge.

It was quite hilarious, Danny twirled the knife and brought it slicing down on an onion, an entire family of geniuses and he—average Danny, who was pulling a solid C average in school—was the only one with anything remotely resembling cooking talent.

He spun the onion sideways and began chopping again. He actually liked it, to tell the truth. Creating something with his own hands, seeing the product of something he made—something that came from inside him—it gave him a sense of pride, of accomplishment. He pulled a couple of peppers, one green, one red, toward him and, with a definitive strike, split them open.

That was the problem with his parents and Jazz: they thought too much. They scrutinized the recipe to such an extent that just a slight deviation, a single error: no mangos in the fridge, or an accidental extra dose of spice, and they were completely at a loss for what to do.

Next to meet his blade were a set of plump, white mushrooms.

Danny knew. He could taste the food and tell if it needed more salt or if it would go well with a certain fruit…

Voices floated over from the family room and Danny looked up. It sounded as though his friends and sister had turned the TV back on.

"..And further, following the strange fire incident, it has been speculated by the police that this is only the latest in a recent rash of incidents that have been breaking out all over town…"

Danny frowned thoughtfully as he finished with the vegetables. Checking the meat in the pan he saw it was nice and brown, so he added the stir-fry mix and then tossed in the rest of the vegetables. The water in the pot was boiling steadily, so he pulled out a box of dried noodles and slipped them in, watching the water as it hissed and spat against the intrusion.

With all the food cooking peacefully, Danny let his mind wander. Placing both hands on the counter and leaning forward, dark bangs fell over his eyes but he ignored them. The newscaster was right: there had been an oddly large amount of criminal activity over the past few days: robbery, break-ins, vandalism… Danny had decided to stay out of it, believing it was more the police's job to take care of that stuff. But the strange thing was that no one knew who was doing it. No one ever saw anyone steal the money or break the windows. In fact, if it hadn't been for the fact that none of the ghost detectors around town had gone off, Danny would have thought it was a ghost doing this.

Regardless of Danny's opinion, the police still thought a ghost was behind the incidents. They even went so far as to questioned the validity of his parent's inventions; but Danny, who had been on the receiving end of those same inventions one too many times, knew only too well how well they worked.

But there was something else that was strange, too…as the human criminal rate went up, the ghost rate plummeted.

By plummeted, Danny meant that he hadn't seen neither hide nor hair of a ghost since…

'Since that incident at the museum four days ago…' A mental shiver went through the raven-haired boy as he thought about that incident. His left hand unconsciously went to his right shoulder.

The wound… it didn't hurt anymore… but it wasn't exactly gone either. After he had come home from school the day of the field trip, Danny had been dreading the moment that he would have to clean the saliva off his arm. But to his great surprise—and a little relief—when he had finally worked up the nerve to try and peel his shirt off his shoulder it had slid off with unexpected ease. Then, when he'd looked at his arm, he'd gotten another shock: the viscous whitish substance that had covered his shoulder and upper arm was completely gone!

Not a trace remained. And as Danny had stared at his unblemished skin he wondered if he should be happy or worried. But after a moment, when no other options presented themselves, Danny had decided to just put the incident behind him.

But then that had started to appear.

Danny hooked a finger around the edge of his collar and pulled it outward, looking down the inside of his shirt. There, just visible on his shoulder against the folds of material, was an ominous shadow.

After realizing that the saliva had vanished, he'd gone directly to bed. But in the morning, while he was taking a shower and changing, he'd seen the slightest hint of discoloration on the spot just above where his right arm met his shoulder. He'd dismissed it at the time. Bruises always darkened before they faded away. The ones on his wrist hadn't given him any trouble, after all.

But the spot only got bigger.

Now about the width of two fingers, it had turned an ugly blackish-blue color. Then, sometimes, ever now and again, it sent shooting pains through his arm and shoulder like a snarling lattice of electricity. It would last 5 maybe 10 seconds, and then it would be gone as though it had never happened.

Danny knew he should tell someone, Sam, Tucker or Jazz. He knew they'd only be angrier at him if they found out he had hid it from them… But what good would it do? They wouldn't be able to stop it; they wouldn't know anything more about it than he did.

Danny had tried to remove it, and all that had accomplished was him nearly ripping all his hair off with the Fenton Extractor (which, as he was now starting to suspect, was probably just an overly powerful vacuum cleaner). None of his parents' inventions even had the slightest effect on the spot, they didn't even register it as abnormal (but then again, Danny himself was one giant, walking, abnormality, so he couldn't really expect one small spot to show up on the big yellow mass that was him). He didn't want to worry them, or so he said to himself.

And then there was the incident just now.

He hadn't been telling the truth when he said he hadn't seen the pillow coming. He'd seen it a mile away; one of the good things about constantly fighting with ghosts who hurl high speed balls of congealed energy at each other was his very acutely developed instincts. His battle conscious mind was so efficient now that during fights it almost seemed like the world slowed around him, allowing him time to think and react accordingly.

When Jazz had thrown the pillow the choices had been, as usual: avoid or go intangible.

Instinctively, he had chosen the latter, as the former tended not to work as well (especially with ghosts, who have a bad habit of making their attacks explode in mid-air), and Danny really had thought he'd gone intangible. Until the pillow hit him.

Lifting a hand to his eyes, Danny let it slowly fade into and out of existence. His powers appeared to be fine, so what had happened before? He hadn't lost control of such a simple power since he'd lost his memory nearly a year ago.

Something yellow sparked in Danny's peripheral vision and he snapped his head around suspiciously. But there was nothing there, just the shiny metal oven and dark cabinets. Danny shook his head self-critically. He was overreacting, seeing things that weren't there... His shoulder itched, reaching up a hand, he scratched at it idly.

A sudden fizzle caught his attention and Danny looked up. Stirring the dinner, he picked up a piece of green pepper with a fork and blew on it before popping it into his mouth. Deciding it could use some more spice, he grabbed a couple from the cupboard, tasting each lightly before deciding on one and sprinkling it in.

Pausing then, Danny frowned at the pan, as though pondering something. Then, shrugging, he grabbed a few cherry tomatoes, washed them and threw them in. For a few minutes he waited, until he knew it was done, and then he took the pan off the stove and shook the stir-fry out onto a plate. Next, he strained out the water from the noodles and let them tumble out into a separate bowl.

"So… what should I use for sauce? Dad likes the sweet stuff, Mom the spicy ones and Jazz the low fat… Hmm, didn't Mom buy that new pickled…something or the other?" Danny was terrible at remembering the names of spices and dressings. But usually he could recognize them on sight, so it didn't matter much. Digging through the fridge, Danny found the sauce he was looking for. Taking a small spoon, he taste tested it.

"Perfect." He muttered, splattering it over the food.

'Going back to the problem at hand though,' Danny continued in his head. 'The lack of ghost attacks has me on edge'. The last time it had been this quiet in Amity Park the ghosts had been planning an invasion. So Danny's concerns were more than justified.

As such, earlier that day, he had ventured out into the ghost zone to try and track down any signs of life—uhh—afterlife.

But there weren't any… and that was making Danny, very, very nervous.

He had been so restless he'd actually started studying! Anything to get his mind to stop thinking about it, and it was actually paying off: he'd gotten an 80 on a recent math test, much to the astonishment of his teacher. And when he'd nearly caused Mr. Lancer to asphyxiate when he'd answered a question correctly in English. He was actually starting to enjoy his newfound brilliance in school. It felt good to finally exceed expectations.

Danny had to admit—though he was probably going to regret saying it later—it was a good thing the ghosts weren't attacking. It gave him an amazing abundance of time. Time he hadn't even realized he'd been missing: time to do his chores, to do his homework, to go out with his friends, play, laugh and have fun.

Eventually Danny decided he would forget about the ghost thing for now. The thing on his shoulder would go away, the ghosts will eventually return and the police would catch whoever was doing all those weird things around town. Danny deserved a break after protecting the town for almost a year. He deserved to have at least some semblance of a normal life. So he would take this opportunity and enjoy it.

Content with his choice, Danny took the food to the table, setting out plates and cutlery as he went.

It wasn't long before he realized what a mistake that decision had been.

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To Be Continued…

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Wow… Ok… um, I've never actually made stir-fry, so…um, couldja tell? XD.

To everyone also reading my Beyblade story, I'm sorry! I know you're probably ready to throw me out a window for updating this first, but I really did mean to have the chapter finished by now! I've hit a small snag, but I'll try to get it up as soon as possible!

Thunderstorm101: Yes, Danny's just so cute isn't he? I would totally want a brother like him :P I like it when Danny acts all sweet, like he does so often in the show… but you're right: his touch with reality is definitely questionable… and it's only going to get worse (evil chuckle).

sciencefreak330: Hm… (taps finger on chin thoughtfully) You know, I really want to see Danny beat Dash up too! I always imagined Dash would try to hit on Jazz (since he's already a bully, and in the show he seemed to like Jazz), and Danny—being Danny, XD—would of course try to do something stupid and heroic… So maybe if you just hold on to that thought… XP

ArmoredSoul: Wow, I think that's the longest review you've sent me yet! XD Did Dash's perverted-ness hit a nerve? I don't blame you, I hate him too! Yes! Go you! Beat that bas—er…pig up! XP

Moonstar5569: Hey! Thanks for the review, and I hope you liked this chapter too!

Wishes for Wings: Yeah I know what you mean…but I love a bashful Danny too, he just wouldn't be the same if he started ego-tripping, flaunting his powers and taking credit for everything he did :) But maybe… Maybe… he might just get his chance to get even… maybe… XP

Kyelor: HI!!(add excessive exclamation mark usage here) I'm so glad you're back! I was worried :) I sympathize though. I just got done with my exams a couple of weeks ago and JUST got my marks yesterday… I did well enough to keep my scholarship, which is very, very good news, so at least I can enjoy my holidays now! I hope you did well too! I'm glad you're liking these chapters so far (and I can't wait for your reviews on Sooryavansham! I know the chapters are long, so I can wait…twitch…yes, I can wait…twitch XD). And you're right, I had no idea how Danny would communicate 'I'm a GOOD guy' to the Asian couple… I tried to picture what I would do… and yeah… heh heh, that was the best I could come up with XP. The evil figure in the window was supposed to be playful-sinister, so I think you got the right impression. I might not have added as much description as usual with that part, mainly because I wanted to make it more… I don't know… urgent…or something like that… Oh and you know about 'Ahriman'? Do you know what it means? I actually found the term once in my Thesaurus (now fondly dubbed 'Thessy' after having gone through many fanfiction chapters with me XD) and I thought it sounded interesting. So I looked it up. So… if you know what it means, then you're probably wondering why on Earth I made the Asian couple say ? Well… heh heh, it'll all come, eventually! You know, I love Danny-Jazz interaction! But hardly any authors really delve into the relationship they have, instead focusing more on romance. I'm not saying romance is a bad thing, but it's always taking over the fanfiction, and that's just annoying, don't you think? Anyway, I'm really glad you're back (just look at the size of the response to tell!), oh and don't even think about calling me Sholay–san! We're friends, right? So, it's just Sholay, please XD. Oh and hope you're enjoying the Holidays!

MutantLover09: NO! You CAN'T say beware at the end of all your sentences! If you do… if you do… (thinks for a second)… I'll… I'll sick Klemper on you! Yeah! I'll do that! Wait um… (note floats down from above) Ok… what's this? (reads : 'All use of characters in fandom Danny Phantom are constrained only by the laws of Fanfiction and cannot be used to harass, coerce or otherwise threaten Real World Objects. Thank you') Ok…um… (rips paper up) You didn't see any of that, right?... Yes, sorry, that was a little random, Unfortunately it's past 2 in the morning here and I get a little…eheh… shall we say, weird, in the wee hours of the morning…XD Anyway, glad you liked the character interaction in the last chapter, I think I tend to write a lot of that, so you can expect more of it in the coming chapters… At any rate I hope you liked this chapter!

Happy Holidays!