I... I haven't written something in here... For so long. I... Guys, I know it's been a while. And I know, things will be confusing for a moment. I've started this new story for a reason, and the first one is that I would like to make an announcement. I, officially, have decided to end my work on every single Danny Phantom story right now in my library. I know, it doesn't seem fair for all those who've already favorited or followed those other stories, but I just can't find myself doing anything else on them anymore. Those stories in there right now, the not-completed ones? They, I'm going to put them in discontinued, and leave everything as it is. No endings, no continuation.

Instead, I'm starting all over. A new story, a new plot. This one, it was inspired by someone who wrote a fairly decent crossover story of Danny Phantom and Teen Titans. I will be taking inspiration, but the majority of this work is going to be all ME. It's based on something I actually hadn't payed so much attention on until I looked at the details.

I have a simple question to those who are reading this starting note: Did you, or anyone else, ever mention how strange it is that Sam didn't have anything in common with her parents? Not their hair-color (Sam's black hair is natural, to those who are wondering), not their eye-color, not even the way she looks! She has zero in common with them, both personality and appearance wise. Ask yourself this, if that's the case, then what is Sam, really?

Could she be... Adopted?

That, is the only hint I'm going to give. No more questions. Instead, let's start, with the prologue!

#Update: June 5, 2019#

Simply added a few lines here and there, taking out small mistakes. Just keep on reading, people.

Prologue: Dusk Falls

Sam has always considered herself the most 'normal' in all of Amity Park.

Sure, she hangs out with a guy who's technically, half-dead. Her second-best friend is a hardcore carnivore who often than not irritates her to no end. She herself is an ultra-recyclo-vegetarian, never to eat anything meat or with a face in her life.

She's always considered herself the most reasonable, the most 'normal' of anyone in all of Amity Park, despite everything she just said. She isn't as dumb and arrogant like Dash, as pinprick and smug like Paulina, or as dangerously annoying like Valerie.

She's normal. A normal, goth-girl who sometimes can pick up the feelings of anyone around her.

Yeah, did she forget the last part? Funny story, that…

It's always been something unique about her, something… Strange. Stranger than having a half-ghost for friend or fighting said friend's ghostly enemies by sucking them into metal thermoses.

Her ability to feel the emotions of others, no matter how hard they're faces are to read. Or even if they're not facing her at all.

Sam doesn't know when it started, or even exactly how she realized it. She can't exactly describe how it feels, either, sensing the emotions of other people. It's like breaking past a portion of their privacy, looking deeper and catching onto those hidden feelings no one normally sees, or should see. But although she knows how it works for the most part, she doesn't know how to control it. She can't stop it, nor contain it. It's something about her she can't control no matter how much she tries.

It shows up at seemingly random moments, and never lasts for the same length. It popped up during her walks home, and she can feel all the emotions of every pedestrian around her for a hundred-mile radius. She's never come home faster in her life before. The same happened in school in the halls, sensing all those mixed emotions from passing students, overwhelming her almost completely. especially when the A-listers came. Those guys really have dirty minds.

It has its positives, like sensing when someone is lying. They feel guilt and regret, and sometimes so strong she can practically hear them think 'I'm lying, please don't catch me'.

She can sense when someone feels endangered, they often feel distressed, scared or even disgusted.

Ever since the Disasteroid, she's also been able to pick up on something new. Feelings directed about her. Strong feelings.

She's never actually sensed the love coming from her parents, as little as it might be (she believes so at least). Her senses never came up when she was around her parents. Only when she had been around Danny after a date did she suddenly start sensing something. Something deep and strong and unbelievably true.

It was warm, soft, kind and tender. Caring and protective and strong. Unimaginably strong.

And it came from Danny. The love he holds for her, she felt it, sensed it. It was unbelievable. Forget that fuzzy and soft feeling whenever he told her he loves her; sensing his love for her, it was like seeing fireworks for the first time all over again. Times ten.

Never before had she been so certain of her feelings for the half-ghost boythen on that very moment.

But although you'd never hear her complain about this special aspect about her she can't explain, it's always made her wonder. What else about herself doesn't she know?

Sometimes, you'd rather not ask. There's no guarantee you'll like the answer.

Sam knows she sure didn't.

"Are you adopted?"

The question was simple. Three words. Pure, innocent, a question that appeared so unpredicted into the conversation that whatever they'd been talking about before was quickly forgotten.

Tucker's question took Sam aback for a moment, and even Danny fell silent.

"What?" She asked incredulously, not having expected something like that in the slightest. Tucker looked up from his PDA, looking like he'd already forgotten he even asked.

But he hadn't.

"I asked if you're adopted."

"Why would you even ask that, Tucker?" Danny asked, just as surprised as Sam. Why would you ask something like that? Although it is a good question… Something that the teen boy might have considered once… Or twice… Or thrice. Have you ever seen how different Sam is from her parents? You'd understand why, then.

"I'm pretty sure that my parents are my real parents, Tucker." She stated, hoping to get over with this and continue where they'd last been before Tucker had interrupted. But it seemed like the techno-geek wasn't done with her yet.

"Really? No offence, but I'm actually not that sure, Sam."

She gave a somewhat undignified splutter before turning to Danny, hoping he could defuse the situation before she commits a crime like homicide.

"Danny, please tell me he isn't serious?"

"I… I don't know, Sam." Danny stated softly, voice betraying his own uncertainty, and maybe also the fact he was slightly agreeing with Tucker on this one. "It actually isn't such a bad question."

"Come on! You guys can't be serious! What even brought this up?"

"Well," Tucker started, putting his PDA aside for once in the pocket of his pants. "For starters, you aren't the picture-perfect family, you know."

"Thanks for the head's up." She deadpanned. That wasn't exactly a secret only they know. Everyone in town who know the Manson's know that the relationship between Sam and her parents is strained at best.

"Now that I think about it, we've seen your parents, Sam. You… Don't exactly look much alike." Danny added, and this time she wasn't going to hold u the rising indignation and anger. What are they even thinking asking that of her?!

"Then I'm more like my grandmother."

"No, she doesn't really look much like you either."

"What? But, it's ridiculous! I know my parents, Danny! They'd never lie to me about something like that!" She countered, getting a bit closer to face with the halfa. He backed up a little, bit didn't concede. She might not admit it, but despite her strained relationship with her parents, Sam knows they'd never lie to her about something so serious. They still love her, even if it might be less than any normal parent's love.

In any way, they'd never lie to her about something so important, right?

Right?

"You don't have the best of parent-child relationships, Sam. You don't look like them, either."

"Then tell me how."

Danny actually dared to smirk at her, seemingly happy to oblige to her demand. "Well, first you don't have their eye-color. Your eyes are a purplish violet, not blue or green. You don't have blonde hair, and we know you're naturally black, you've never dyed your hair before. And didn't you say your mom has a genetic birthmark? That you didn't heritage?"

At this point Sam was livid. She had a string of retorts ready, her entire position read hostile. Yet, at the very moment she wanted to start ranting, her mind decided to actually review the entire list. And it came out as logically reasonable. They actually made a point.

She fell silent, gaping slightly at Danny, who couldn't fight back the triumphant smirk because he got her silent. She was beyond speechless. Firstly, she didn't think he'd actually pay so much attention on detail, let alone how she looks in comparison to her parents, causing a small blush to form. Secondly, everything he's pointed out actually makes sense, as strange as it sounds. She doesn't have their eye-color. Her hair is, in fact, naturally jet-black. And she's always wondered about that birthmark her mom has, but she doesn't. It's supposed to be a genetically heritage thing. How come she doesn't have it? Why aren't her eyes blue or green? Why isn't she a natural blonde like her parents? The blush from before quickly fell away.

Was she really that blind to everything? That she didn't see the differences lying right under her nose? In plain sight, no less!

But, if that's really true… Then that means they've lied to her for all of her entire life! Why? For what purpose? And if it's true, who are her real parents then? Where are they? Are they still alive? Does she have any other family? Brothers, sisters, siblings in general?

What if all of her life was just one, big fat… Lie. What then?

She'd left the two behind without even realizing it. Danny and Tucker shared a worried glance. Sam hadn't even noticed how her face had twisted with emotion, and tears even had started forming in the corner of her eyes before she had stormed off.

Will she be alright? They decided that leaving her alone for now was a good choice.

By the time she got back home and went up to the attic, Sam had managed to gather her thoughts together and keep face. Her parents weren't home yet, it was a Saturday and that's when they normally go out for the day to review some of their financial stuff. She was home alone, her grandmother off as well for a game at the local care-home.

Perfect moment to go up to the attic and look for the one thing that could make or break everything.

Her baby-pictures.

Sam admits, she's never actually seen any of her baby-pictures before, or at least not the oldest of them. Sure, some have her when she was three or two years old, the oldest never actually having had her parents in them though, but she's never seen those oh-so-infamous birth-pictures. Everyone has one from the day they're born.

And if they show her with her parents, then that should be enough, right?

Right.

So, up the stairs she went, opening the door leading into the attic of the house. She coughed a little when moving the door alone kicked up a dust-cloud that almost blinded her, and she quickly fanned her hand to try and get the dust to get out of her face.

Great start, Sam.

She looked across the organized mess that made up everything her parents have put here. Stuff they no longer need, old things that are rather forgotten then remembered. One box she put here herself, the one containing all her old clothes from before she became a goth.

Those frilly dresses still haunt her to this day.

'Focus.' She mentally berated herself, turning away from everything to look for any pictures. She knows she won't find one in her parents room, she's gone through that place many times to know that.

Box after box she looked and moved, rummaging through some she thinks might hold a clue. She opens drawers, boxes and other stuff.

When her eyes fell on a large chest that looked to not have been opened for ages, she rolled her eyes. Cliché much?

'Still, it's better than nothing.'

The lock was easy picked, doing a silent cheer when it clicked and fell of with a clang. Sam pried open the chest, eyes scanning the contents. It were simple things. Some old clothes, stuff from back when. Only when her eyes landed on what looked to be an old brown file-envelope, tucked away in a crook of the chest's bottom, did she actually realize what she was doing.

Her heart quickened, and suddenly fear seemed to crawl up her spine, something that rarely happens with her. Sam Manson doesn't scare easily. What if she's wrong? What if her parents are, in fact, not her parents?

Should she be doing this? Maybe it's better if she just leaves, and never thinks about it again…

'No.' She stopped herself before she ran away, holding her spot and forcing that irrational fear back into her mind. 'I need to know. Otherwise I'll never stop thinking about it.'

She grabbed the envelope, hand shaking with both anticipation and anxiety.

She found a name written on it.

Her breath caught in her throat.

Her heart sped up faster than a bullet.

Her face fell, mind filling with sadness and betrayal

"No…"

Written on the brown envelope, in clear blue pen and in a style she's never seen before, one not belonging to herself or her parents. Not even her grandmother's.

Samantha Logan.

The top was lazily clipped together with a paperclip, and before Sam even understood what she was doing, her hand had removed it and reached inside the envelope.

She hesitated.

Does she really want to know? When she does… There will be no going back.

'I have to do this. For my own sake.'

She removed a picture from inside the brown file-holder.

Her eyes widened in pure shock and her mind just… Stopped.

It was a nice picture, good quality and clearly made with great care. It showed a beautiful woman, lying in a hospital bed. Her skin was a milky gray, a bit like her own. Dark purple hair lied disheveled around her, and sweat made her skin shine slightly. The woman's eyes looker tired, purple-violet pupils looking down with care and love at a small form in her arms.

In her arms, cradled together in a soft purple-ish blanket, was a baby. Skin fair as porcelain, slightly red-tinted. Similar purple eyes, almost violet from an angle, looked through half-lidded eyes, chubby hands grabbing upwards slightly, with a soft toothless smile filled with newborn innocence. The baby's hair was a little off, purple with a few green streaks in them.

Written on the bottom edge of the picture, her first clue.

'Rachel and her new baby girl, Samantha.'

'Rachel…' Sam her thoughts echoed, and something in the back of her head clicked together.

Her hand had already removed another picture from inside before she even realized it. And again, she could hardly believe what she was seeing.

The same baby girl, crawling over the floor of a nicely decorated baby-room. She was crawling towards a man. He had green skin, darker green hair and bright green eyes. His large grin revealed a somewhat impressive set of fangs, and his ears appeared lightly pointed.

At the bottom, again, something was written.

'Garfield enjoys playing with Sammy.'

'Garfield…'

Sam reached inside again, taking out a final picture to look at. It was larger than the other two, looked better cared for. It wasn't slightly fogged over from age like the other two.

Tears threatened to spill when she finally saw the truth.

It was the picture of a traditional first-year birthday. Sitting in the lap of the same green man from before was the baby girl called Sam. Standing proudly next to him, hands clapped together, was the woman with dark purplish hair. There was a gathering of other people all around the table, some she questioned their appearances, looking like they were singing. A nicely decorated cake was standing on the table, a candle shaped like a 1 standing proud in the center.

The only difference, the little girl's hair wasn't that odd mix of purple and green anymore. No, instead it was a pure jet black, put in two pigtails.

The same way Sam knows she once looked like when she was little. She'd seen a picture from when she was three, playing in a park she doesn't remember. Same hair, same pigtails, and now that she looks better, same smile too.

She couldn't deny it. That little girl… That's her.

That are her… Her real parents. Her real family.

Once again, something was written underneath.

'Samantha's first birthday!'

It felt like she's been hit by Skulker, tossed through a blender and then being burned alive by Ember.

'What?'

Okay... Anyone got any objections against the story? I hope not, because I'm going to keep writing until it's finished. And that, my friends, is a promise.

Well, until the next chapter! Untill then, remember to review, follow and fav. See you all soon!

Peace, out. ;)