Disclaimer: I don't own DP or any reference to pop culture/brand name/etc. made in this fic

Author's Note: I always loved stories in which Danny never met Sam or Tucker, and I was thinking one day, "why not have a little fun and twist this up a bit?" This fic will be very character-centric (i.e. there is very little action to speak of, save what you see in this prologue). Assume that everything that happened in the show still happened in this AU, with the exception of Sam and Tuck being present, of course. This prologue is a bit of an AU spin on "Reign Storm," which I've decided to set further down the canon timeline because reasons.

I will be attempting to update on a weekly/biweekly basis. Enjoy!

Prologue: The Tower

Acidic green lightning split through the sky, the dark clouds above momentarily giving way to something unearthly and wrong.

No, no, no, Danny rambled to himself, struggling to pick himself up off the floor. Ectoplasm spluttered between gloved fingers, and as his opponent grabbed his white hair and shoved him back down, forcing him to kneel, to bow, he could hear Skulker's rockets whistling through the air below him, nearly in harmony with that of the howling wind. Through the grate beneath him, he saw them explode amongst a troop of skeleton ghosts that had been approaching the tower. Their bones shot like shrapnel into the fray and decapitated several more of their mindless companions.

Somewhere nearby, Dora roared in absolute fury as she tackled her brother to the ground, the force from her pounce causing the ground to tremble and the tower to shake. Frostbite's people snarled, Fright Night's steed shrieked, helicopters blazed by, ectoblasts flew, and shouts rang from every direction, but from the top of the device Technus had been manipulated to create, the one that was slowly but surely merging the Ghost Zone with the Human World, the one that could force all ghosts into servitude…

From the top of this tower, time seemed to move in slow motion, every detail as pure and clear as crystal.

We're failing, he thought belatedly as another bolt of spectral lightning struck and the clouds of both worlds churned. Another hard blast pummeled into his stomach, but he managed to struggle upright and return fire. There was no joy when it connected, and he threw himself forward, taking advantage of the small opening.

We're losing. There was an enticing pulse in the air, sweet and exhilarating. Energy crackled through the air, and even he could sense it now.

There isn't enough time.

Jazz was sobbing, and his parents, struggling against their bonds and shouting into their gags. The equipment meant to disable the device laid in broken pieces across the platform, eerily illuminated by the green flashes of lightning.

Not enough, not enough…

Phantom didn't mean to Wail—he thought he was long past the point of having the energy to do so—but somehow, someway, he did, and his knees gave out. Not now, he told himself. Long claws dug into him, eliciting a gasp of pain. Get up. Fight.

He was pulled upright. The Ghost King leered in his face, eyes cold and mad with power. The glow from the Crown lit his pale, regal brow. "How disappointing," Dark mused. "They warned me of your greatness, Twice-born. 'Beware of Phantom,' they told me. 'Don't dare underestimate him,' they said. 'He is strong,' they insisted. Bah. Pathetic. They think you are more powerful because of your curse? No, it makes you weak. Look around you. The sight of yourfailure will greet you."

Of course he didn't do as he was told. Dim green eyes focused on the family trapped on the tower with him…their hopes lying in shatters at their feet. With no way to contact their human or ghost allies for backup, with no other way to save either ghosts or humans from enslavement, they had nothing left, and seeing them…his sister, his parents…their eyes wide with fear, their chests heaving…Danny wished…

The hands fisted into his jumpsuit began to burn. One wrenched themselves away from his chest and up to his throat, forcing him to turn his head and look the Ghost King in the eye. "You will obey!" Pariah Dark thundered.

Several ghosts, having bypassed the armies below, clambered onto the platform, some allies and others enemies. All powerful, prideful ghosts in their own right. Eyes vacant, they lowered themselves to a knee and awaited their King's command. "It begins," he hissed gleefully. "They come to me now. Soon, even you will be mine, abomination! I will break you and make you suffer!" A smirk curled over his lips, and greedy eyes flickered away from him. "And I know where I shall start."

No.

Phantom spat a mouthful of ectoplasm and saliva straight into his face. Pariah Dark rubbed the glob away from his eyes and tossed him aside with a roar. He crashed into the center console, where the Soul Shredder and the Ring of Rage together were housed in a bubble of energy, and rolled over a few times before skidding to a stop.

The skies were nearly one now, the humming in his head nearly unbearable.

No time, no time…

Several more ghosts flitted onto the platform to stand behind Pariah, who stood glorifying in his victory. Laughing. He was laughing now.

Cocky asshole.

The Ghost King did not notice Phantom's eyes blazing. His arms trembled, hardly able to take his weight, and his breath rattled in his throat.

I can't…I won't…

Pain radiated from every major point in his body, but he got to his feet again and, summoning the very last of his energy, did the unexpected. Instead of attacking, or attempting to deflect the attacks of over three dozen powerful ghosts that had just been ordered against him, he launched himself forward.

Only chance…

Intangible hands shoved through the electrifying barriers, and quivering fingers wrapped themselves around the two artifacts.

"HALF BREEEEEEEED!"

His head was wrenched backwards, and he screamed, his throat tearing as another Wail, this one infused with power straight from his cold core, spilled from his lips. White overcame his vision, and the energy of the two items flooded into his body, more maddening, more shocking, more excruciating than anything he had ever experienced before. The Accident could not compare to this torture. All he knew was the feeling of the Soul Shredder's magic, each and every one of his fears screeching and tumbling through him at once, ripping at both heart and core, and the feeling of the ring…how one remained sane with this in his possession, let alone the Crown of Fire on top of that…

The rapid thudding of the human heartbeats near him rang in his ears, the sensation of every possessed ghost's mind stabbing into his own, the whispers and cries for help... There was so much hatred, so much fear and pain to add upon his own…

He felt them approach him, as they had been ordered to, but they were repulsed away. Distantly, he could feel his suit melting and the ground beneath him rumbling, quaking. It seemed an eternity before something snapped. A crack of thunder erupted, and the stream of power whiplashed. He jerked away and collapsed, a broken blade and dead ring falling into his lap.

Silence.

A ragged gulp for air. Blurred vision. Heart thud-dud'ing, core spluttering, out of sync. A twitch. The tingling rush of invisibility, on and off, off and on. Eyes…open.

Blue sky.

He would have laughed, had he been capable. Everything felt raw, with the exception of his legs. He could not feel his legs. He couldn't move them. The smallest movement of his head was all it took for him to see that his form was destabilizing.

Bubbling.

Disintegrating.

It was almost funny, really.

A fuzzy form shoved itself into his field of vision. The orange was nearly blinding, and it was only followed by more colors, too bright for him to process.

The words coming from the form's mouth were shrill and all muddled, but the sound of it was so familiar, he strained to focus. "You idiot," she was now repeating. There were tears streaking down her face. "You idiot."

"Why?" Mom's face appeared beside his sister's. There was a large hand pressed into his chest and a sharp pinch right in the crook of his arm, but he wished he could focus on her face, silhouetted by the blinding sun—Earth's sun—and the spinning, spinning of helicopter blades. He wanted to tell her that the roaring in his ears was obnoxious and that he really, really wanted to fall asleep now.

For some reason, that felt more important than what he should have been attempting to say. It was too hard to say those things, far too hard.

But there was no time for speaking. There was no time for regrets. No time to apologize. He stared at the blue sky, at the three people surrounding him, and closed his eyes, at peace and grateful.

"Why did you do that?"

Tongue as heavy as several bricks, he slurred hoarsely, a weak smile twitching at the corners of his lips, "'Jus' me. 's me."

And just as the comforting blanket of unconsciousness took him into its embrace, a familiar flash of light crossed his eyes.

To Be Continued...

Oz out