Hiya!

I have a feeling you guys are going to like this one... Maybe... (grin)

Disclaimer: Danny Phantom is the property of Butch Hartman.

Enjoy

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The Soul Sepulcher

-By Sholay

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Chapter 7 — Fight

Danny shifted eagerly in his seat. They were getting that test back today: the one on the museum. Mr. Lancer had explicitly warned them that they'd be having the test, but in spite of this, more than half the class had groaned in various states of shock and dismay when the English teacher had come to school a few days ago towing a huge stack of papers in his wake.

Everyone, even Sam and Tucker, had complained for days about how difficult the test had been: how unfair, how evil… Everyone that is, except Danny. His friends couldn't make heads or tails of why on Earth their dark-haired friend seemed so happy to get his test back; he usually loathed these events more then anyone.

But, even though he hadn't told them it, Danny just knew he'd done well in the test; he could feel it… He'd spent so much time over the past couple of weeks researching the museum that he even knew why they'd placed all those little 'out-of-order' signs over the water fountains.

However, Danny didn't want to tempt karma by gloating before he got his mark back. So instead, he sat anxiously perched on the edge of his seat, knee jerking up and down spasmodically as he watched Mr. Lancer, who, with painstaking slowness, pulled the tests out of his bag, checked them, rechecked them, ordered them and then ambled over to check his computer… Danny suppressed an sigh of aggravation.

Now as for why Danny had done so much research on the museum… well, it hadn't exactly been for school credit. After he'd had that run-in with the Hound, Danny had dedicated himself to finding out everything he possibly could about the museum… without actually having to set foot into it.

Mr. Lancer made his way up the rows with the pace of an old snail.

Maybe he was being childish, but Danny really, really didn't want to go back there. Every time he thought about it he got such a violent sense of foreboding that his mind literally shied away from the thought. And if he couldn't even think about going back, how could he ever hope to physically do it? He knew that he'd made a promise to return to that couple, but Danny figured that, human or not, they were probably long gone from that room. Besides, if they weren't human, then Danny wasn't too sure he wanted to keep that promise.

Danny jumped as he realized Mr. Lancer was now directly in front of his desk. He pulled his gaze upward to meet his teacher's with a look of vague panic in his eyes. To his shock, Mr. Lancer smiled back down at him.

"Now this is an example of what hard work and dedication can do. Mr. Fenton here has received a 98 percent, the highest mark in this class. You should all strive to achieve this sort of exemplary work."

Complete silence befell the class.

Danny looked down, stupefied, as the big, red, encircled 98 slid into his view. He felt a hand on his shoulder and looked up, his eyes wide.

"Congratulations, Mr. Fenton." Lancer gave him a small smile before moving on to dispassionately slap another test down on Tucker's desk, who took one look at his mark before groaning and dropping his head into his arms.

Still in shock, Danny opened his mouth as though to respond, but when nothing came out he closed it again. Picking up the test gingerly, like it could break into a thousand pieces at any moment, he stared.

'Wow,' Danny thought. 'I haven't done this well in school since… well… before the accident.' The accident, of course, being that fateful day when he'd activated the Fenton Portal and gained his ghostly alter ego. Danny felt a grin break out on his face and a quiet 'yes!' passed his lips.

Then something cold and slimy smacked into his neck.

With a gasp, Danny reached up and swiped the wet, gooey thing off, but it took a bit more rubbing too get rid of the cool, oozing feeling of spit trailing down his neck.

'Spitball' He identified in an oddly detached manner. Slowly, his head turned and his gaze caught a murderous pair of eyes—the colour of a darkening bruise—staring straight at him.

'Surprise, surprise, it's Dash.' Danny's own eyes narrowed as he engaged in a silent battle of wills against the jock. Eventually though, the edge of Dash's lip curled up in a disgusted sneer; he mouthed the word 'freak' clearly then turned to Paulina, who was sitting in front of him. Danny watched, something in his chest constricting involuntarily as he watched the guy who bullied him on a regular basis and the girl he secretly had a crush on gossip in whispers, pointing in his direction, and laughing.

With sudden a burst of anger, Danny snarled, his eyes flashing briefly. One of the legs holding up Dash's table flickered briefly out of existence and with a yelp Dash fell forward, tumbling to the ground with a loud crash. Paulina let out a high shriek and the rest of the class laughed while Lancer effused some pedantic expletive.

Danny, too, snickered as he watched Dash painfully disentangle himself from the table and pull himself to his feet, staring at his toppled, but otherwise normal-looking, desk in dumb confusion.

"Danny!" Sam leaned over and hissed. Danny looked over at her, raising an eyebrow.

"What do you think you're doing?! You can't just go around abusing your powers! Remember what happened last time? And what if someone saw you?"

"Sam, don't be such a wet blanket," Tucker whispered in return from the desk in front of Danny. Then he looked at Danny, a wide grin growing on his face. "Dude that was awesome!"

"You be quiet." Sam shot at him. Tucker huffed. "And you!" She switched to Danny. "This isn't like you Danny."

Danny swallowed, a light frown dusting his features.

'She's taking all the fun out of it.' This thought floated across Danny's mind, but it seemed wrong somehow. 'But she's right, you've been acting strange lately, getting angry too easily, seeing things…' It left a bitter taste in Danny's mouth, but he agreed more with this second statement.

Danny had found his temper shortening, very subtly, over the past few weeks. What he used to be able to brush off now sent a hot iron of rage through him. Small insignificant details made him grumpy and irritable for the whole day.

Take Dash, for instance, Danny used to be able to calmly stare at the jock as he insulted him into the ground, then punched him there. Now Danny had to go out of his way to avoid Dash, just incase a word, or a phrase, accidentally set him off and he did something he'd regret.

But it wasn't just Dash that set him off recently. Just yesterday, Sam, Tucker and him had gotten into a petty argument, involving something so small and meaningless Danny still couldn't understand why he'd blown up: Sam and Tucker had been having one of their usual 'heated discussions' and Danny, utterly sick of their squabbling, had called Tucker shallow and Sam mule-headed.

He'd apologized, almost immediately; he honestly didn't know why those words had come out of his mouth. But the damage had been done and Sam and Tucker had been cool—limited to less than one word answers—with him for the rest of the day.

The bell rang, signaling the end of school and shattering Danny's thoughts. With a sigh, he detached his hand from the firm grip he'd maintained on his test. Smoothing the paper out, he looked with slight regret at the deep creases now distorting the proud 98. Sliding the test into one of his textbooks, he packed his backpack.

"Mr. Fenton, if you could stay a moment?"

Danny looked up questioningly, but relaxed when he saw the benign look Mr. Lancer was wearing. Shrugging, he looked to Sam and Tucker, who raised their eyebrows at him. He nodded and they understood, picking up their backpacks and moving toward the door. They were so well in tune that Danny knew for certain that they'd be waiting for him to join them near his locker.

Dash, however, seemed to have other plans. As the blond jock exited the door after Sam and Tucker he made a small gesture between Danny and him, flashing a toothy, feral grin. Danny sighed once more.

'Maybe I'll have enough time to go ghost and fly outta here before Dash sees me.' It was a futile thought though; Danny just wasn't that lucky.

Danny approached his teacher's desk unenthusiastically. Placing his backpack on the ground against the table's leg, the teen thrust his hands deep into his jeans' pockets, his posture slouching, and waited.

"Mr. Fenton," Mr. Lancer swung around from the computer on his desk and Danny briefly saw something familiar and colorful flash on the screen before it went blank.

'Was Mr. Lancer playing Doomed?' Danny stared.

"When I first met you, you seemed to be a very quiet boy—introverted, but full of potential." Danny's eyes shifted back to Mr. Lancer as he began to speak, silently hoping the man wasn't going to turn this into a lecture. "I watched as that potential grew. You flourished in certain areas but struggled in others. You had the capability to be brilliant but there was always something stopping you, whether it was lack of motivation… or, perhaps, motivation to do exactly the opposite…" Mr. Lancer's voice trailed off regretfully and if Danny didn't know any better he'd have thought his teacher was referring to Dash and his group of bullies.

"But then something happened." Mr. Lancer gazed intently at Danny and he shifted under his teacher's shrewd eyes. "Suddenly all that potential seemed to disappear. Your grades, your attitude, your motivation, everything went downhill. You were always coming late to class, sometimes not even coming at all. You showed complete disregard for school and authority and slowly, though I am loathed to admit it, I began to think I was mistaken about your potential." Again, the teacher paused.

Danny sucked on his tongue, wondered if there was a point to this.

"But Danny," Suddenly Mr. Lancer leaned forward in his seat, steepling his hands and Danny, caught off guard, snapped his head up. Why the sudden drop in formality? Danny didn't think Mr. Lancer ever called any of his students by their first names. "Over the past few weeks you've shown incredible change. You've come to every class, actually paid attention, actually known the material and moreover, you've given insightful answers in your tests." The balding teacher let out a short bark of laughter. "I never knew the museum had all those 'out of order' drinking fountains as an environmental statement against wasting water."

One corner of Danny's lips quirked upward.

"Look, Danny, what I'm trying to say here is…" The teacher paused, as though uncomfortable about his words. "I believe that you can be one of my best students, Danny, if only you'd apply yourself."

Danny's eyes widened and he leaned back in surprise. "Sir, I—"

"I'm not trying to…ehem…" Lancer leaned back, pulling out a well used book—'How to be Hip for the Unhip', Danny read, stifling a snort of laughter—and thumbing through the dog-eared pages. "'Rag-on-your-groove' as you children put it. I just want you to know that I'm here if you ever need to talk."

Danny let out a low, conceding chuckle. "Okay, sir. I'll keep that in mind."

After bidding his teacher goodbye, Danny stepped quietly out of the classroom. After closing the door carefully behind him, he turned and leaned heavily on the frame, letting a burst of air escape his mouth.

Danny didn't know what kind of game Lancer was playing… maybe he wanted to win the 'Best Teacher of the Year' award or something, but Danny wished he'd just lay off. Looking through his bangs, the teen raised a hand and ran it through his messy hair. He knew Lancer didn't really care, he just knew it, so why did the man even bother pretending? It was annoying, and manipulative, trying to get Danny to confide in him, of all things!

Danny laughed quietly, cynically. He'd stopped confiding in anyone after the Spectra incident. The only exceptions to that rule were Sam and Tucker… and Jazz, more recently.

Danny hoped Lancer would just forget—

"FENTON!"

"And that's my cue." With that, Danny sped off in the opposite direction, followed only seconds later by Dash who thumped by with footsteps that shook the ground.

"Earthquake Terror! What is going on out there!" Mr. Lancer poked his head out of his doorway, just in time to see Dash disappear around a corner.

"…Merciful heavens, I'm a teacher! If I'd wanted to join the Olympic running team, I would have done track in High School instead of cheerleading." Nonetheless, Mr. Lancer set off down the corridor to see what disturbance his students were causing now.

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This was not good.

Danny looked all around, furtively trying to find any escape without turning his back on the boy in front of him.

Unfortunately, Dash had apparently gotten tired of having Danny always run away from him, so he'd called on all his thug friends to back him up. A large group of jocks, cheerleaders and other unknown faces had ambushed Danny right outside the school in the empty parking lot—foiling his plan to ditch Dash and fly off invisible—and were now forming a tight ring around him and the bulky quarterback.

Danny usually wouldn't have been too worried; he wasn't afraid of taking a few punches. Then he could just fall over and pretend he was sorry.

But they weren't planning on punching him.

Danny eyed the large wooden baseball bat in Dash's hands warily as they circled one another. The much larger teen grinned and slapped the bat into his palm a few times. Behind him and all around, a number of jocks also held bats while others cried 'Fight! Fight!'. Danny wasn't sure, but he thought he could hear Sam and Tucker's panicked cries from somewhere far into the crowd. But they wouldn't be able to help him now.

Danny crouched lower and raised his hands. But instead of curling them into fists, he opted for a less aggressive front: keeping his fingers spread, a deceptively defensive move he'd seen his mother use on more than one occasion. One swing from Dash and Danny would spin away completely and grab the bat, yanking it out of the unsuspecting idiot's hands. The one catch was that in order to pull it off, he would have to move very fast.

Danny wasn't really worried about that.

"You're through, Fentina! This time I'm gonna beat you so hard you're gonna wish your fat mother never had you!" Dash grinned as he and Danny continued circling each other. He scanned the crowd with a smug grin, there was no way Fenton was going to weasel his way out of this one. The jock's eyes were lit up at the thought of finally having complete power over his favorite punching bag.

"Don't you talk about my mother!" Danny defensive outburst came without him even thinking about it.

"Fine, then." Dash leered. "Why don't we talk about your hot sister?"

There was absolutely nothing new about Dash's insults—nothing Danny hadn't heard a hundred times—yet it was the last straw and red flashed before his eyes.

Danny let out an inarticulate cry as he leapt at the jock. Dash, caught off guard, stumbled back a bit. Then his football instincts kicked in. He reacted in the first way he thought of: he swung the bat around in a wide arc and smashed it into Danny's shoulder brutally.

"AH!" Danny's cry was cut short as he felt a searing pain shoot through his arm and shoulder. Mid-leap, he was suddenly thrown viciously to the side where he hit the asphalt violently, rolling a few times before coming to a stop. The crowd washed away from him, moving back before he could touch them, but immediately formed the circle back again.

A hush swept through the audience, no one could believe what had happened. School fights were one thing and intimidation was normal… but beating someone with a baseball bat was at a completely different level. It was the invisible line between choice and mob mentality. No one knew how to react. Like scared lambs they each looked to one another, seeking a leader, or a scapegoat.

Then Danny groaned and shifted. Sparks of pain raced up and down his arm, but were concentrated mostly around his upper arm. Pulling himself up to his knees he touched the tender area briefly.

He knew Dash was a bully… but he had not idea he had it in him to do this.

Slowly, Danny looked up, eyes carefully neutral. He saw Dash staring at the bat in his hands with something akin to shock. Then the blond raised his head and met Danny's eyes. Time seemed to stop as they stared at one another, one calculating, the other stunned. Uncertainty was clear in Dash's eyes and the bat lowered.

It was the moment of reckoning: to fight or to back down. It was the time for that choice, that single choice that separated the humans from the beasts.

"YEAH MAN, GIVE THAT FREAK WHAT HE DESERVES!"

Chaos reigned.

Danny had to roll sideways to avoid a bat as someone swung at him—then jump up and backpedal to avoid another one. He ran straight into Dash who looked frozen for a moment. They exchanged glances and for a moment Danny wondered if Dash would back down.

But then the jock's face darkened and with a rough 'Get off me Fen-TURD' Dash shoved Danny hard into the screaming crowd. Danny stumbled and fell against a few people. With a roar they pushed him back and Danny stumbled backward, pin wheeling his arms wildly.

"What's your problem anyway?!" Danny yelled angrily wiping away a drop of blood from the corner of his mouth; one of the faceless mob had managed to clip him across the face. "Do you get off on this or something? Picking on the defenseless geek? Does it make you feel good Dash? Does it make you feel powerful?" Danny sneered at the blond, who looked momentarily taken aback before his eyes hardened with rage.

"You think you're something don't you?" Dash hissed furiously, advancing until Danny had to look up to see the other boy's face. The crowd hushed and tremors of anticipation ran through the ranks. "You and your bitchy little girlfriend and your pathetic walking computer—"

"Don't you—" Danny began angrily but was cut off but Dash's finger prodding his chest.

"YOU think you can just walk all around MY school like you've got any RIGHT to BE here!" Dash punctuated this with a hard jab and Danny backed up. Dash moved forward, not loosing his advantage.

"But guess what Fenton?" Now the barrel-chested quarterback leaned in until they were nearly nose to nose. Danny could smell fish on the jock's breath, probably remnants from lunch.

'Everyone has bad breath these days'. Danny thought idly; first the Hound, then that evil doppelganger in the window, now Dash. If only every bad guy out there had bad breath, it would make identifying them much easier. He used the thought to distance himself from the fight.

Danny wrinkled his nose in disgust and moved his head back, but Dash, still ranting, didn't seem to notice. "Take away the witch and the smart-ass and what do you have?" He paused, but when Danny wasn't forthcoming with an answer he supplied one himself. "Nothing." And with a malicious smirk, Dash leaned back, crossing his arms. Suddenly, Danny couldn't help but listen, his attention riveted to what the jock was saying.

"You're nothing, Fenton, not a geek, not a nerd, a jock or anything else. You're just some creepy kid with a freaky family. Everyone knows it and NO ONE likes you. I bet even your friends think you're a freak…" Dash studied Danny for a moment. Danny fought back a snarl, the words cutting deeper than they should have. "You know, I think you KNOW that. You know you're a loser, a worthless waste of space… I bet I'm even doing you a favor by beating you up. It's the only time you're actually useful for something, loser."

'No one talks to you like that!'

Danny didn't know what happened. One minute he could feel the simmering rage boiling safely behind a dam of self-control. Next thing he knew, that control was gone and he was rushing at Dash.

With the agility of a snake, he felt his body weave and duck to avoid the other's surprised, frantic swings. Then, in a haze of frightening detachment, he straightened, stared Dash straight on, brought up one fist and punched him—hard. Dash staggered, but Danny didn't stop. His foot came next, thrusting out in a vicious sidekick that sent the burly jock flying.

It was like Danny had flipped the off switch on his consciousness. Nothing crossed his mind as he advanced slowly on Dash: no sense that this was wrong—even as he smoothly stooped to scoop up the fallen bat, barely pausing in his stride—no sense of conscience, even as he saw Dash groan and roll painfully on the hard asphalt.

He was empty.

Utterly blank.

The crowd was silent, watching in morbid fascination as once shy, wimpy Danny Fenton, leveled the strongest guy at school without even breaking a sweat. They were struck dumb as the same scrawny, awkward boy—unpopular, but always easy going, never malicious—seemed to have cracked. Fascination turned to silent horror as they saw the remorseless glint in Danny's eyes.

The realization came to all of them and none of them all at once… He wasn't going to stop…

"LORD OF THE FLIES! STOP THIS ABERRANT MANIFESTATION OF SHAMELESS LAWLESSNESS AT ONCE!"

This ringing call, so strange… and so familiar, sent a jarring shock of thought to Danny's head.

'Stop?'

And with this single thought, it was like a flood had been unleashed.

'What? Stop what? Who—Mr. Lancer?'

Danny gazed around, his eyes glassy and somewhat unfocussed. He saw the crowd around him, which only served to confuse him further. A rush of fear tingled over his body, though he had no idea why.

A groan alerted him to the presence of another body lying not far from him.

'Dash?'

Danny looked down in bewildered curiosity at the once proud jock, now on his knees, clutching at his stomach in obvious pain. Dash attempted to stand, a few people finally snapping out of their stupor to assist him. As the quarterback sluggishly raised his head Danny saw a massive bruise staining the entire left side of his face bright red. Blood dribbled slowly down the corner of the blond's mouth. Some girl screamed and with a snarl Dash yanked his arms away from his helpers. Wiping the back of one hand across his chin, the teen scowled at the sight of his own blood. Turning his head to the side, he made a loud slurping sound: gathering the spit and blood in his mouth before spitting it out in a phlegmy glob. A few people let out sounds of disgust. Danny's eyebrows raised in surprise and maybe a little concern.

"MR. FENTON! DROP THAT BASEBALL BAT IMMEDIATELY!"

Startled by the sudden call, Danny spun around. Disoriented though he was, there was no way he could miss the shudder of fear than ran through the people nearest to him as they tried to flinch further away. Danny looked at the person who'd called him.

"Mr. Lancer?" Danny asked softly. He frowned a little. He didn't understand.

"Daniel…" Mr. Lancer now continued in a softer tone, holding up his hands in a placating gesture. It was like he was talking to some wild animal. "No one needs to get hurt… Just put the bat down."

"Bat?" Danny asked himself. Puzzled, he looked down at his hands.

Then, with a sudden cold, tightening of his heart, he saw it: a long wooden baseball bat clutched firmly in his hand. Danny stopped breathing. There, right on the edge of the bat, was a small dark stain… the telltale color of blood.

With sudden, startling realization, Danny remembered what he'd done… What he'd nearly done.

The bat fell from his boneless hand, clattering hollowly against the ground.

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To Be Continued…

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Yes! For all of you who wanted to see Danny beat Dash up! XD Too bad I had to go and twist it, huh?

Wishes for Wings: Ehe he he… What exactly did you consider to be 'carried away'? XD Poor Danny… Anyway, irregardless of the violence, I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Oh and thanks for the hug! Here, have some virtual holiday cake! It's very good; it changes to your favorite flavor and has practically no calories! XD

sciencefreak330: Hiya again! I really hope you liked this chapter; I had you in mind while I was making it, please tell me what you thought!

ArmoredSoul: Yay! I actually asked my mom for details on how to make stir-fry, then used my imagination to flesh it out. I always imagined Danny to be the cook in the house, so I just had to put it in :P. Oh, and what did you think about this chapter?! Danny finally got Dash back, albeit not in the way we would have really wanted XP.

MutantLover09: Yes… I hate notes that fall out of nowhere… actually I generally hate anything that falls out of nowhere… like big, BIG stone blocks. I can feel one looming for this story… even though I know exactly where I plan on going with the plot… I just have no idea how to get there…ugh… Maybe I can postpone the inevitable painful squishing for another few weeks (not likely) Awww shaddup, inner muse thingy! (…) Ok yes, I admit, I'm a bit weird XP. But did you really expect any different from someone who writes weird, twisted stuff like this? XD

Thunderstorm101: Yeah, Danny does seem to have some kind of karmic 'kick me' sign on his back, doesn't he? But that's what makes him so much fun to play with! (pinches cheeks of Danny plushie) XD. Anyway, you're exactly right: there is something very suspicious about the rise in human crime (I'm really glad you noticed that! I was worried that I'd made the hint too subtle!). Anyway, what did you think about this chapter? I don't know whether to feel sorry for Dash or go up and punch him myself… :3

Quick-demon: Yeah, you know, I always thought of Danny being the one who cooks in the family (I mean his parents create mutant hot dogs for goodness sake! And Jazz wouldn't be able to handle a flour spill XP). And the scene of imagining him whipping up dinner was just too much fun for me to pass up! Just like this fight (sorry, Danny!), I couldn't help myself! Oh and I hope you had/are having a good holiday too!

Nylah: You know, I can't believe you're reading my fic! I've read some of your stories ('The House') and they're very good! And so depressing! I could actually picture everything as it happened in your story, it was so well described. Anyway, ha, ha, so you have no idea what's going on in the story? And you're still interested? That's great! That means I'm doing my job! Now if only I could extract my dratted rent-a-muse from under the bed (she's been hiding down there since this semester of University started… I think she fears my impending Political Science essay… huh… Guess I have to go find the crowbar again…).At any rate, please tell me what you thought of this chapter!

Adio!