The sun had set and his shift was starting soon. It was winter, so at 5pm it grew dark annoyingly quick.

Vlad had concluded it was best if he stayed away from that rundown house – his self-preservation was strong and every instinct in him had screamed to stay away. He'd have to ask Danny if there was anything familiar about the girl or that particular house later. If anyone knew, it would be Danny. They had the same eyes.

Vlad had arrived at the Nasty Burger right on time, 5:30pm, just like he'd always done. Most times he was so early, it was almost rude. Problem was, he lacked his uniform hat and ponytail. His long, jagged scorched mess of hair was considered a health hazard – it flaked off a cloud of soot every twist of his head.

So he sprinted an alley or so away, trying to knot his filthy hair into something acceptable, slicking it back with the very same grease he'd gotten coated in when falling asleep in that despicable trashcan. He could only hope his co-workers had an extra hat to spare.

The backdoor to the Nasty Burger was open, as always. No one robbed the "Nasty Burger." The more posh smoothie and coffee shops downtown bore the brunt of crime.

He spotted Irving Burns, his shift manager, nicknamed "Third Degree," for his uncanny ability to place his thick hands into boiling oil without suffering injury. Vlad liked him for that, freaks of nature had to stick together. Currently, Mr. Burns was on the phone, best not interrupt him. Tiffanie, a high schooler, was working with a customer.

Vlad took his employee card from a greasy pocket and swiped it along the clock-in computer. The screen flashed up in error and Vlad did not receive his timestamp ticket. In the corner, the screen read 5:35pm and Vlad's heart sunk – he was five minutes late, and with it, his chances of making employee of the month – Mr. "Third Degree," always won that honor – as Burns should, he capitulated. Vlad clenched his filthy hair in frustration, still needing his hat – he was eager to start his shift and to restock the kitchen.

Valerie Gray, the only other employee not working with a customer, was busy wrestling with the "Nasty Beetle'" mascot. Unfortunately, she was the sole employee with the distinct honor of wearing that metal abomination – she was the only one who fit.

"Here, allow me." Vlad had many times helped Valerie load her metal beetle into its locker sarcophagus – it was horribly inconvenient to store. He figured this time it would be no different.

But as soon as he touched the beetle, Valerie snapped up at him. "And just who are you?" The tone wasn't unnecessarily rude, but it suggested an uncalled for amount of suspicion. "Are you the new hire?"

"It's just me, Valerie." She grew angrier, Vlad stepped away. She must've had a bad day. Looking Vlad up and down with harsh olive eyes, Valerie looked tired, defeated, her normal after a mascot shift, but a new sort of rage was building.

"How do you know my name?" She placed a hand to her chest, "I'm not wearing my nametag."

'What?' Vlad was very confused. Valerie was normally tired, yes, but not to the point of being delirious, not enough to forget other employees.

"Are you alright? Would you like some water or Punch-ade with lime?"

"That's my favorite drink!" Valerie all but screamed. Vlad wordlessly went to the soda machine, hurryingly getting an iced water.

"Here Valerie, drink. That suit must've dehydrated you horribly." He held out the water, but Valerie did not take it.

"What is this? Who are you?" A scowl deepened on her features. Vlad stood dumbly, not sure what he'd do if she spiraled into a worse condition – as she was known to do under pressure. The beetle mascot clattered to the ground, the noise seemed to snap Valerie back to her senses. "Well, I guess you're alright." To his surprise, she took the water, downing it as quickly as the ice would allow.

"Sorry for snapping – had a bad day, you know?" Vlad chuckled, "Oh do I ever."

"Anyway, let's start over, I'm Valerie." She held out a hand.

"Well, I'm Vlad," he shook it to humor her.

Suddenly, a beeping noise manifested from Valerie's wrist, a red stopwatch, and her ire returned tenfold when she glanced at the time. At first Vlad thought the beeping-noise was from the fryer timers or the grill in back, but then Valerie's wrist was engulfed in an ominous red light – and he watched in horror as blood-rusty metal began to creep up her body.

"You can't fool me, ghost!" A scrambled growl, and Valerie tackled him to the ground. "I can't believe you thought you could just waltz in here, as Mayor Masters!"

His back throbbed in pain, and he was so surprised, he said not a word. Vlad stared as she pulled out a gun from nowhere, pressing its barrel against his temple.

BANG

A bullet, a laser, whatever it was left the chamber. Vlad screamed, clutching his eyes as a terrible blinding, bleeding pain churned out of his skull. He could only see a pink scramble – his brain – good as burger meat.

It was just some flesh.

Or whatever.

But it hurt.

So damn much.

Then there was FIRE .

He couldn't stop it.

Couldn't deny it.

Didn't try.

Terrible terrible FIRE .

Flames climbed everywhere!

He could feel it , TASTE IT.

Meat scramble from his head had landed against his screeching, scalding tongue.

Embers creeped like lattices of gold and ivory from his skin, his melting face.

The fire fire fire leaped from his fingers, his teeth, his fangs. His eyes beamed with beautiful ivory, flickering gold.

But he could not see it .

Could not see.

Could not see.

Well at all.

Vlad reeled upward like a terrible, savage animal. He could feel , hear as Valerie's bones hit the ceiling with a wet clatter. Then he dove downward into the concrete, to sanctuary, to somewhere dark and cold – away from the Nasty Burger – he burrowed like a brimming-mole of magma – his face entirely on fire, the marrow in his bones boiled and spilled – yet his teeth clattered as if freezing.

Then he closed his eyes, when the deep earth grew cold, which soothed his nerves, to get some sensible rest.

The Nasty Burger had exploded.

Danny Fenton sat at the family kitchen table, watching a small television set placed above the refrigerator.

Danny shook in his seat, a terrible fear churning in his guts. His breakfast of runny eggs, soft bacon, and cold toast sat uneaten against his twitching fork.

Maddie and Jack Fenton had run out hours ago during the night, when they were contacted by Amity police – the department being convinced the accident was supernatural in nature –the Fentons were obligated by a contract with the city to investigate all possible ghost-related incidents.

It was a weekend, and Danny chose to spend his morning pondering at the kitchen table, watching Amity News for any possible clues. Like his parents, he too believed the incident was ghost-related, and his reasoning chilled his bones. Jazz had kept him company at the table for an hour or so, reading a book, before leaving to write an essay.

'Typical Jazz,' Danny thought, with a smile. His sister had tried to cheer him up, to sooth his worries, but an "exploding Nasty Burger," was an awful reminder for a "secret" he liked to believe never happened.

No one else but him knew about: "Dan Phantom."

Danny shivered, pushing away his breakfast, almost all the way off the table – the terrible images, memories of watching his family and friends perishing in the Nasty explosion, assaulted his hungry, sleep-deprived mind over and over.

It was horrible.

It was a horrible memory.

'Perhaps it was inevitable that the Nasty would explode, just like how a dry forest will eventually catch fire,' he reasoned, 'It was just a matter of time.'

He wasn't supposed to prevent it – couldn't prevent it. But such reasoning felt like lying to himself.

His arms hung stiffly at his sides, clenching heavy fists with no target. The metal legs of his kitchen chair squeaked as he restlessly fidgeted in place.

Danny's phone rang with notifications from Sam and Tucker, each wanting to hang out, each excitedly telling him about the explosion, each gibbering about how they'd have to find a new afterschool hangout – and annoying speculation about what ghost caused it.

Danny didn't want to. He wanted nothing to do with that place.

What if he found Dan there?

If a ghost was involved, he could only think of Dan as the only possible culprit.

It wasn't a rational conclusion, but the fear was very real.

If it was Dan, he couldn't defeat him – he couldn't even win the first time.

The memories were too fresh, too awful, and Danny was in no mood to play.

Hopefully it was just the box ghost aiming a box in the wrong spot and being something other than an annoyance for once.

Of course, that wouldn't make the explosion any less tragic.

'Sick today, don't feel like it. See you at school,' he texted back, but his friends Sam and Tucker were insistent, texting they 'didn't believe him,' and would come over in an hour or so. Danny wanted to throw his phone across the room, like the useless brick it was.

He supposed it was his fault for never setting boundaries with his friends, letting them suggest activities on what to do – always, and simply following along like a good dog. Sam especially, didn't take the word "no" well – and when Danny first met her, he and Tucker had to help her realize that it was okay to be "disappointed." Today, was going to be one of those days.

As for Tucker, he could easily spy on him through GPS – and probably did. The fact that Danny could literally turn invisible, yet having his phone in his pocket still made him "findable" made his skin crawl.

The more he thought about Tucker's potential prying eyes, the lack of privacy was damning, suffocating…the school bullies were right, his friends were weird, perhaps weirder than him.

Danny massaged his face, hands clammy with sweat, bruises, and frustration – he just wished his friends would understand, it was okay if he kept a day to himself.

Tucker and Sam…were clingy? Not always.

Ever since he died and became a ghost anyway – his friends clung to him as if he'd suddenly float away.

Did they feel guilty? About the whole dying thing?

He always meant to ask…but it was the elephant in the room nobody wanted to point out.

It was funny, he felt very alone, even as his phone roared with text notifications.

Danny sighed, clasping hands to slick hair. His phone rang and he was just about to toss it to the floor – before he saw the caller ID.

Not Sam.

Not Tucker.

Or Mom and Dad.

Dani.

It was Dani.

Little "cousin" Dani.

He'd always made time for Dani.

She was the exception.

Always .

Danny smiled, emptying his botched breakfast into the trash and went to wash the dish, only to notice he'd cracked it, and threw it away as well.

He redialed Dani, smile wavering as it went to voicemail – she never set up a message, so it was silent until the beep.

He called again.

The phone rang.

Nothing.

She must've been in trouble!

The bitter morning-news had flayed Danny's nerves, tender like a contaminated green ham, and so he quickly sprung into action – he needed to punch something, to desperately let off some steam.

He clenched the phone tight, running up to his room so fast he almost flew. He slammed his door closed, much to the chagrin of a studying Jazz. Tossing the phone onto his bed, he quickly slipped on a winter outfit, with gloves, jacket, and wool hat.

Maybe it was a ghost instinct, or his fighting experience, but he suspected he might be stuck out in the snow for a while and didn't want to look out of place.

He changed to Phantom, swiping his phone just before he torpedoed through the ceiling. It was daylight out, freshly morning, so Amity residents where surprised to see a frantic Phantom kicking up snow as he reached his top speed for no discernable reason. Most ghost incidents happened in the afternoon and at night. It was rare to spot the Amity Phantom before those hours.

Danny didn't know where he was going, and stopped over a forest right outside the city.

He dialed again.

"Hello? Danny?"

"DANI!"

"My ears, geez!" Dani laughed, "I'm happy to hear from you too 'cus,' but cool it, I can hear just fine."

Danny nervously laughed, "S-sorry, b-but you wouldn't pick up! I was worried!"

"What?"

"You called me!"

"No I didn't."

"And then didn't pick up?"

Danny could hear a commotion in the background. Dani likely shifting around her travel bag and supplies as she'd always done.

"Oh wow, Danny, I'm sorry…"

"For…what?"

Dani paused, the background noise started again, paper crinkling as if she was fumbling with something.

"I-I d-didn't mean to call you." Was that panic in her voice?

"Dani, what's wrong? Tell me. Are you hurt? Are you OK?"

"Um well, I just butt-dialed you by accident, oops."

"Oh."

"My bad, Danny, this is awkward. Didn't mean to freak you out."

Danny's heart-core was still racing. He decided to try salvaging the conversation.

"Well, that's alright, happens to the best of us." He smiled, genuinely happy to hear from Dani. "So where are you traveling now? Still in the US? Next time you come to town, we'll go to the mall and I'll buy you a new bag, and shoes – sound good? "

"Oh, um yeah…actually," Another pause, more crinkling.

"I'm actually in town right now, been for a couple months…or no wait, just a few weeks or so."

"What?!" Danny's heart-core started hammering again.

'Why didn't she lead with that? Why didn't she call me when she arrived?' He thought, and didn't like what he concluded.

She always called, first thing.

Didn't she want to hang out? With him? They were cousins – family. Nothing could change that, right?

The line was quiet, but still active. Dani must've been around a bunch of clutter to make that amount of noise.

"I'm…guessing you're not busy at the moment?" There was a crash. "Right?"

"No, Dani." He braced himself for disappointment, he certainly didn't want to cross boundaries like his friends did, and asked, "You wanna hang out?"

"Yeah!" Dani's enthusiasm made him feel a little better.

"But," Another crash. What was Dani up to?! "Don't be mad, but I kinda fucked up."

"Language!"

Dani laughed, "You're not my dad!" Danny almost dropped his phone, it would've been a disaster in midair.

Except, he 'kinda' was…her dad…right?

The term "cousin" to refer between them had never felt right – as if Dani was to be kept an armlength away – when she was closer than just a cousin to Danny.

Also, for them to be "cousins" implied Vlad Masters would be considered his "creepy uncle," and to think of that man in any way as family made him sick. He was Dani's father, never Vlad…

But despite his feelings, Dani seemed happy to have him as just a cousin. No need to risk it being awkward by asking her to be his little "sister," when his parents didn't even know about her; or to ask her to be his "daughter," when he wasn't even a teenager out of high school yet. "Cousin," was the most convenient and comfortable label, even if Danny didn't agree – perhaps it would change in future.

What mattered the most – was Dani being happy, right? No need to make her think of such things.

Danny bit his tongue, unable, or unwilling to speak his mind – another elephant he was happy to ignore.

As long as Dani was happy, he didn't see reason to change things. But it felt dishonest, like settling a rock against his chest for no good reason.

"I need you to meet me at 917 Maple Street, at the creepy townhouse with the graves, but we are camped out in the woods in back."

"We?!"

"I'll explain, just come see me."