Welcome, boys and girls, to the completely refurbished Exorcism of Danny Phantom. Don't hit me, I bruise easily! I know many of you were expecting chapter four, but trust me when I say that re-writing it from scratch will turn out for the better in the long run.

Now, there are a few things you should know before you begin reading.

This story tentatively takes place after episode 40 of Danny Phantom and chapter 205 of the D. Gray-man manga. In regards to Danny Phantom, anything that happens in season three is subject to being ignored unless otherwise stated. One such exception is episode 46, Urban Jungle. Since cannon will more often than not be thrown out the window, I ask that you keep a bag of salt nearby while reading. That way you won't have to keep getting up for grains when they are necessary.

This story will also be a bit darker in tone compared to its predecessor. My tastes have changed a bit over the past two years and my writing style has shifted accordingly. Hopefully many of you will agree with me in seeing this as a good thing. It would be rather disappointing for me to take a two year hiatus and come back a less entertaining author than before.

On a lesser and final note, I couldn't resist slipping in bits and pieces from my favorite movies/books/games/ etc. My eternal admiration goes to those of you who can spot them all.

Without further ado, let's get this thing started.

A tortured wail pierced through the dead of the night.

The man screamed as he hammered the floor with his fists repeatedly. After a few moments he stopped the relentless attack on the wooden planks, energy spent and hands throbbing in pain. His breathing began to come out in harsh and ragged half-sobs. The tears streaming from his eyes mixed with the mucous running from his nose and he wiped the liquid mess away with the sleeve of his suit.

"Just the other day she was…" he whispered hoarsely, forehead pressed into the floor.

'She can't be gone.' He thought desperately.

"My, my, such sorrow." A voice said from above. Startled, he scrambled back, eyes wide and hostile. A rotund figure in a large coat and top hat stared back at him through pince-nez spectacles, with an inhumanly long grin that took up more than half of his equally inhuman face.

"Who are you? How did you get in here?" He demanded.

"Do not fret, my child. I mean you no harm! I have many names, but you may refer to me by the one most common. I am the Earl. As to how I came to be standing here before you…your soul reached out and summoned me. It knows that only I can patch the hole that has damaged your heart, for I am a powerful and sympathetic sorcerer!"

"Cease with this nonsense and get out of my sight! There's nothing for you here!"

The Earl didn't move.

"Would you like for me to revive your beloved?" He asked, head tilting slightly.

His anger flared. "THIS IS NOT A JOKE!"

The grin on the self-proclaimed sorcerer did not in the least fade, nor did his jolly demeanor. If anything, he seemed amused.

"It's been some time since someone required proof. I take my hat off to you, sir. I see that even in despair you keep your wit!" He raised the hat off of his head and held it out as he bowed. At the lowest point of his bending he snapped one of his fingers, and a plethora of nightshades erupted from the hat.

"Oh, still not convinced?" The Earl asked as he noticed that the man's glower had not ceased. "I suppose that parlor tricks are hardly enough for a discerning man like you."

The large figure's grin shifted subtly, becoming much harsher and wilder at the corner of his lips. His eyes, previously hidden by the spectacles, widened partially to reveal the slit pupils underneath.

He pulled out of his bow abruptly and reached into the top hat, pulling out an umbrella with a small pumpkin at the tip.

With a brandish he began waving the odd umbrella through the air. A purple line of light appeared in the space where the tip of the umbrella moved, until finally it made an oval. As soon as the shape was completed the purple lines spread out like a spider's web, interlinking until the entire inside of the oval was filled with an eerie glow.

"You…!"

Without waiting for him to finish the sentence, the Earl disappeared as he stepped through the circle of light. A moment passed. Then without warning a large shadowed hand burst through the portal, grabbing him around the waist and pulling him into its depths.

Before he even had time to scream or try to struggle, he was released and deposited on solid ground. Blinking, he stood and looked around at his surroundings in disbelief. He was at a graveyard.

No, he realized. Not a graveyard. The graveyard. And her gravestone was right in front of him.

The meager resolve he'd been working so hard to build dissolved all over again. He fell to his knees once again and wept openly. The Earl looked on, grin widening even further.

"Do you believe now, my child?"

He nodded slowly.

"I will ask again: would you like me to revive her?"

"I'll give you anything."

Behind his spectacles, the Earl's eyes twinkled dangerously.

"Then we have a deal. "

"In other news, authorities have officially called off the search for forty-three year old Frank Herwitz. Herwitz's wife, Nadine, was tragically killed in a car crash three weeks ago, and Frank was reported missing just three days after her burial. Neighbors describe Frank as an occasionally short-tempered lawyer who nonetheless doted on his wife. Chief of Police Lloyd Irving stated in a press release that there has been no evidence of foul play, and that at this time there is nothing left to do but wait for further tips or evidence. Still, a close friend of Frank has begun hiring divers to search the nearby lake, fearing that the distraught man has taken his own life. He is quoted as sayin—"

"Jazz! I was listening to that!" Danny said irritably as she changed the channel without warning.

The orange haired teen frowned as she set a plate filled with pancakes down in front of him. "Danny, that's not the kind of stuff I want you listening to!"

"Gee, all right then mom." He said harshly. Upon hearing the words exit his mouth, he winced.

"I'm going to let that one go, since I'm sure you're just stressed and didn't mean for it to come out that way. But I'd still like to remind you that there's no need to get snarky with me. I am the one who got up early to make you breakfast, you know." She replied tersely.

The immediate guilt that sprung up inside him stung like a slap to the cheek.

"I'm sorry, Jazz." He sighed earnestly as he stabbed at a pancake with his fork. "It's just…it seems like more and more ghosts are appearing recently, and they're more violent than they've ever been before. I have to be on the lookout for any sign of them. If I don't stop them…" he left the sentence unfinished, but Jazz nodded knowingly and sympathetically. "Anyway, I really do appreciate everything you've been doing. I wish there was some way I could repay you…it feels like you're sacrificing so much just to help me out."

There was a distinct cracking sound as Danny's fork pitched clean through his ceramic plate, breaking it almost perfectly down the middle. It didn't stop there either, and by the time he had gotten over his shock his pancakes were nailed into the wooden table. His fist still trembled from the force he'd put into it to accomplish the deed. He stared resolutely at his lap, mortified.

"Hehe, oops. Sorry." He grabbed the fork and focused until his hand became intangible, with the fork along for the ride.

To her immense credit, she didn't look fazed in the slightest. She set another helping in front of him as she gathered the broken pieces of plate along with the shredded pancake remains.

"I wouldn't go around wishing if I were you. Desiree might happen to overhear." She gave him a slight smile. "And it's the prerogative of older sisters to sacrifice things to help out their little brothers, especially when those little brothers try to carry the weight of the world on their shoulders."

"Yeah, but you shouldn't be the only one sacrificing." He said darkly. "Speaking of, any word from—"

"No." She cut him off quickly. His frown turned to a grimace.

"I'm not even surprised anymore. Any idea what the newest 'project' is?"

She arched an eyebrow at him. "You should know better than me. You mean to tell me you haven't checked?"

He shook his head.

"The 'Fenton Force Field' has been up the entire time."

"Whatever's going on down there must be important." She said with a shrug meant to look nonchalant. He could tell it was forced.

"Not this important." He stated firmly as he finished his last pancake. His sister sighed.

"Danny, everything will work out. I promise."

She took his now empty plate and leaned over to give him a kiss on the forehead. He used to whine at such displays of affection, but he'd grown up—some of it natural and some of it forced—so instead responded by standing and pulling her into a tight embrace.

"Have I ever mentioned that you're the best sister ever?"

She laughed. "You could stand to mention it more often. Now stop stalling and get your butt to school."

"Fine, fine. I'm off." He gave a half-hearted wave as he exited the kitchen.

"Go get 'em, Tiger." She called out as she heard the door open and close.

She ran a hand through her hair as her features set into a worried frown. Danny was getting less sleep, as was evident from the bags forming under his eyes. She was sacrificing, but so was he. Despite his arguing otherwise, the little she could do for him was severely outweighed by what he did for everyone in Amity Park. But, ever the hero, he never recognized his own efforts. To him, it was his responsibility. It made her sad, but also very proud.

She placed two helpings of food onto a plate, which she then set on top of two sets of cloths she'd washed the other day. Carrying them over to the door leading to the basement, she paused and considered knocking. After a moment of deliberation she shook her head and continued on to a panel situated just to the left of the door. She pressed her finger against what looked to be a random part of the wall, but a hidden button caused the panel to slide away. She placed the clothes and plate inside the hollowed out space and pressed another hidden button, which caused the panel to close and sent the package down into the lab.

'He's becoming a man, and you're not even here to see it.'

She wasn't sure which parent she was more disappointed in. At least things couldn't get much worse.

Right?

Right.

"Don't stop."

Left.

"Keep walking forward."

Right.

'I will, Mana. I promise. Until the day I die.'

With every step, the contents of his promise to Mana echoed inside of him. Some days, fulfilling that promise seemed to be the only way he could force himself to keep on going forward in spite of his exhaustion—and that applied to both his physical and mental status. Partial starvation and severe lack of sleep coupled with the ever impending threat of being hunted down and annihilated had a way of wearing on him, especially when his main method of transportation was walking. It seemed that a white-haired teenager with a star tattoo on his face was not the most sought after hitchhiker.

To top it all off, the last town he'd wandered through had housed some of his master's most exorbitant debts. The YellowFlag Bar in particular stood out, where Cross probably liked the convenience of having a brothel right up the stairs after a night of drinking. The owner claimed that most of the debt was a result of Cross getting into a drinking contest with a businessman and his female bodyguard which had escalated into a gunfight that destroyed most of the interior.

After four days (the entirety of which he'd spent being extremely paranoid, having never been stationary for so long thus far) of performing his street act during the day and cheating…liberating card sharks of their ill-gotten cash at night, he managed to pay off everything with just enough left over to buy himself a barely sustaining meal.

That had been two days ago. After eating his food swiftly, he'd resumed his long trek due west. Besides one period lasting three hours when he'd allowed himself some sleep, he hadn't stopped once. He couldn't afford to.

A shadow moved in the corner of his eye. His head whipped around so quickly that he felt his neck crack painfully.

There was nothing there. He let out a breath in relief.

It was happening with greater frequency. His eyes were constantly betraying him now, conjuring up demons from simple shadows. His left eye would never let Akuma come so close without activating, and his Innocence would start acting up if…

"You don't need to be afraid. You're just going to become one with me."

He shivered involuntarily. That monster…it haunted the little sleep he did get. He hardly needed it to haunt his every waking moment as well.

His horror in regards to the humanoid abomination went far deeper than any other thing he'd ever encountered. Even the mutilated soul of a level four Akuma paled in comparison. During that single moment—that split second when it had tried to absorb him—it had opened itself completely to him. He had looked into the depths of its essence and seen everything.

He had gone momentarily mad. There was no possible way for someone to touch the existence of that thing and come back unscathed. The existence of that monster went against nature itself. Something so inherently wrong should never have been allowed to walk the mortal plane.

And he had touched it. Touched it and been touched. Even now it filled him with disgust, knowing that part of it was still inside of him.

But the worst part was that his Innocence had done nothing to stop it. If the thing—he abstained from even thinking of its name, fearing that it would somehow summon it—was to be believed (and why would it need to lie?) his Innocence had wanted it to meld with him.

It was the greatest betrayal he'd ever suffered.

During most of his childhood, and even throughout his travels with his master, he'd hated his Innocence. Looking back on it now, he couldn't blame his younger self for the lack of insight. It made basic sense, back then. He'd been abandoned and grown up alone because of it. When he had finally found someone to love—and then brought him back when he had died—it had forced him to destroy that very person. Why wouldn't he have blamed it for his suffering?

He'd been a confused child under Cross, and a bitter street urchin before meeting Mana. But he wasn't confused or bitter any more, and he wasn't a child. Battles outside of himself and within had forced him to grow and mature. Uncertainty no longer claimed his heart, and while its thorn dug into him at times it never caused him to stop moving forward. And it was all thanks to his Innocence.

He loved it now, loved it with a deepness and strength that he never would have believed possible in the past. And it reciprocated his love tenfold. It pulsed through him during battle, spreading warmth and light through his veins. The purity of it made him feel like he was so much more—as if the love inside of him made him worthy enough to sit at the right hand of God himself.

It had even listened to his selfish desires and evolved to allow them to be possible. To save Akuma and humans, the black and the white. All so that he could keep walking without regret. And when he was physically incapable of saving the two, when his body was broken and useless, it wrapped itself around him outside and in. Fighting for him and dulling his pain.

He knew his Innocence loved him. So why had it failed him? It had attacked the monster, but that was only after he'd forced it to. It was the first time that Crown Clown had ever resisted his attempt to use it.

He shook his head to clear his thoughts. This inadvertently sent Timcanpy, who'd been sleeping atop his head, to awaken as he was sent hurtling toward the ground. With an annoyed growl the golem flew up to his ear and gave it a bite.

"Ow, Tim!" Allen yelped in surprise as he swatted at his ear. Timcanpy dodged the blow easily and flew back into his hair, burrowing down until he'd formed a semi-nest.

"Sorry about that, Tim." He said with little actual regret. He couldn't manage to dredge up any sympathy when the golem slept more often than not, especially when he was the one carrying his weight.

He looked off into the distance absent-mindedly. How long would this go on for? How long would it be before either the Order or that independent Innocence found him? Not to mention the Earl and Noah…

Lights on the horizon caught his eye. A wave of elation went through him when he realized that it was another town. He squinted as he tried to make out the letters on a large lit up sign in the distance.

"Hm…Amity Park." He ran through the long mental checklist of towns where Cross owed people money. For the first time in a long time, he came up blank.

"Good news Tim." He said to the now snoring golem. "It looks like we might be able to afford a decent meal and an actual bed this time."

Things were finally looking up, he decided with a small smile.

Well, there it is folks. I'm sure that it wasn't worth the two year wait, but I can proudly say that I'm back on track again. See you next chapter!