Author's Note: I'm going to be travelling for the next for days after I post this, but I will reply when I return. :)

Danny woke up the day after the fight aching as though he'd gone up against a freakish supernatural monster that could inexplicably control all meats and kitchen implements.

Unfortunately for him that was, of course, what had happened. A painful array of bruises had appeared overnight from when he'd been thrown around by the ghost. Danny wasn't sure why there weren't more of them; after all he could have sworn he'd been bounced off almost every wall in the building by the time the fight ended. He wasn't about to complain about a lack of pain, though, so he just put on a thin jacket Tucker had left behind after a visit a while back and tried to act normal.

It wasn't normal enough, apparently. Halfway through breakfast Jazz noticed him wincing when he tried to lean on one elbow, and she demanded to see what was wrong. He reluctantly showed her the bruised elbow—not his bruised knee, or the large purple smudges on his shoulders and back—and she was instantly concerned, insisting that he keep some raw meat against it until they left for school.

"What's raw meat supposed to do to help a bruise?" Danny asked irritably. Meat was probably the last thing he wanted to be around after yesterday's havoc in the lunchroom kitchen, and if he'd been any less tired he might have snapped at her. He didn't snap.

Jazz folded her arms with an 'I know what's best for you' look. "I don't know, but I know it helps."

"How?" Danny repeated angrily, putting his cereal-spoon down anyway and starting to stand. He was able to ignore the muscle aches in his legs better than the bruises, so his expression didn't waver from the picture of irritated little sibling that it currently was.

Jazz frowned at him. "Just do it, Danny! And hurry, or we'll be late."

Danny made his way over to the fridge, opening it and reaching for the meat. "It's not like you have to drive me. I was doing fine walking to school before you started…" He muttered.

Jazz took a sip from her glass of orange juice. "It's a long walk, and I know you don't like being around when Dash shows up. When I drive we usually get there before his bus does," she said, her tone reasonable.

Danny shot her a dirty look. "I'm not afraid of Dash! I just like the walk with Sam and Tucker!"

"I never said you were afraid." Jazz replied with dignity, taking a calm bite of her cereal.

Danny couldn't think of anything to say to that, so with a sleeve rolled up and out of the way, and a bag of meat against the elbow below it he stalked out of the room, muttering darkly about getting his books before they left.

Danny was staring out the side window when they neared the school, which is probably why Jazz saw the commotion in front of the building first.

"I didn't know we were having a pep rally today," She said with a frown. "Or a parade, or an… alright, I don't know what that is, but I'm sure it wasn't scheduled."

Danny had turned to look by now, and he stared in disbelief. "No… way…"

"Danny, do you know what this is?" asked Jazz, voice strong with disapproval.

"No," he said, shaking his head. "I don't, and I really, really don't want to know. Can we go home?"

"No, it's a school day."

"But it doesn't look like there's going to be school, and… What the! Please tell me I'm not seeing this..." Danny sank lower in his seat, not caring that the seatbelt was dragging his shirt up.

"What? What's wrong, Danny?" Jazz asked, looking from her brother to the crowd in front of the school.

Danny gestured disbelievingly at the crowd. The car was close enough that they could make out a vague division down the assembly's middle , and could hear what either side was chanting.

Jazz squinted at the people. "Is this a strike, or something? Or…" She paused, rolling the car to a stop in the parking lot. She turned the key and the motor shuddered to a stop, but she ignored that in favor of listening intently. "… What are they saying?"

Danny sat up and leaned forward, resting his head on the dashboard. "Just look at who's on the stage." He lifted a hand and pointed without looking.

Jazz obligingly followed his hand's vague gesture at the group that was waving ecology-oriented posters. There were a handful of tie-dye dressed teenagers who she didn't recognize from this school, but all of them seemed pretty focused on a common goal, whatever it was. Her eyes finally found the stage they had, and then—

"Sam? Danny, what's Sam doing? Is this…" Jazz stared, and then looked to the other crowd. Then she looked back to the first, and everything fell into place. "…Oh."

"Yeah." Danny groaned, lifting his head just enough to peer over the dashboard. "I really don't want to get involved in this. She and Tuck'll want me to chose, and I just want them to cut it out."

"You should tell them that." Jazz said promptly, giving psychological advice as though it were a reflex. Which, to her, it probably was. "Take them aside before class starts and open up to them, tell them how you feel about this and ask them what they think and how they feel about it, too. Search for a way to solve this peacefully and with definite closure, and make sure to leave no suppressed conflicts or—"

"Give it a rest, Jazz," said Danny, unbuckling his seatbelt and opening the door. "This is Sam and Tuck. We don't 'do' suppressed conflicts. I mean, just look at that! Does that seem suppressed at all to you?" He waved the hand he wasn't using to hold his backpack at the crowd of picketing students as though it were absolute proof of his words. Jazz followed his gaze.

"… Alright, so they're vocal in their protests," she conceded, "but listen to what they're not saying, and read between the lines! Humans constantly communicate on several levels at once, not just in words, so—"

"Okay, Jazz, I get it. You want me to talk it over with them, so I'll put it at the top of my 'to do' list." Danny closed the door and tucked his backpack under one arm, rather than slinging it across his abused shoulders. "I'll see you after school."

"Have a productive discussion with your friends, Danny!" Jazz called after him, unbuckling her seatbelt and getting out of the car. Danny sort-of turned and waved, but didn't really look back. He knew that if he did he'd see her muttering to herself about how difficult adolescence was for someone as young, impressionable, and as poorly guided as he was.

"Sisters..." Danny grumbled, before taking a deep breath and navigating the crowds.

"How did you guys get all of this together so fast anyway?" Danny waved a vague hand at the two crowds some distance away.

Sam folded her arms, leaning against a nearby tree. All three of them were in an out of the way area beside the school, where the noise from the crowds was faint enough that the three of them could talk normally. "I happen to have several contacts in four ecology and two health clubs. When I sent out an SOS that the changes we've been trying to make might be reversed, they volunteered to come." She smiled smugly, shifting to find a comfortable spot on the tree's bark.

Tucker pushed his glasses higher up on his nose, somehow radiating disdain. "I didn't need contacts or clubs. I just hacked into the school's database, accessed a list of of all the students that had e-mail addresses, and sent a call to war that asked everyone who wanted to come to spread the word. Needless to say," Tuck smirked here, "it worked."

"Well at least I accomplished what I did through legal means!" Sam pointed out, giving Tucker a perfectly disaffected goth-glare.

He didn't so much as blink. "Sure you did," he said. "Of course, that means that all those kids you invited that don't go to this school aren't really here. After all, if they were here then they'd be trespassing on school property."

Sam pushed off from the tree and stomped towards Tucker, jabbing a finger at his chest. "They're guests! School policy clearly dictates that all guests are allowed so long as they're invited!"

"When they wrote that they meant 'invited through the proper channels,' like the principal or a teacher! All the meat lovers here were students to begin with. Face it, Sam, your idea stank."

"Why you—"

Danny thrust himself between his arguing friends, pushing them away from each other. "Guys, cool it! You're blowing it all out of proportion, it's just a lunch menu!"

"It's not just lunch!" Sam protested, glaring at Danny now.

"It's sustenance!" Tucker agreed, also frowning. "It's the food that keeps us going throughout the day! It's—"

"It's driving me insane!" Danny interrupted. "And it's driving you guys crazy, too! I mean, Tucker, since when do you even use words like 'sustenance' when not talking about something PDA-related?!"

Both of them swiveled to glare at him, and they looked so angry that Danny unconsciously shuddered. When his shiver didn't stop he blinked in surprise, feeling a sudden oddness in his lungs and throat. He breathed in and out sharply, trying to make it go away. A stream of vapor blew out like steam, fading as soon as it had appeared like ice-breath did on a winter day.

"Oh man…" Danny said, putting his face in his hands. "I really don't need any of this right now."

Sam had unfolded her arms, looking just as reluctantly distracted as Tucker did. "Is the ghost close?" she asked.

"I don't know, but it's headed this way." Danny put his hands over his mouth, but the fog just seeped around his hands.

"I bet it's that ghost from yesterday," said Tucker grimly. "At least she appreciates the value of—"

Danny swiveled around and snapped, "Tucker, stop it! Just stop! We don't have time for any arguing or that ghost might try and actually hurt the other students here. Remember the lunch lady yesterday? If it wasn't for me then those dishes and those stoves would have gotten you both!"

When all he got was a mildly stunned silence from both his friends, Danny put his hands on his head and tugged his hair in frustration. "Alright… Tucker, stop antagonizing Sam. This school likes meat, that's great, end of story. Sam," he turned to face her with an expression that brooked no argument, "almost no one here's a vegetarian besides you. You and your friends are a minority, and it's not fair for you to impose rules on us without our consent. Get over it, and both of you please say you'll stop."

There was an awkward silence. Sam looked at Tucker and Tucker looked at Sam, and a series of looks passed between the two that Danny was too stressed to try to make sense of.

The half-ghost shivered again and felt his breath going even colder in his lungs. Just as he was wondering how close the ghost actually was Sam refolded her arms, saying "We don't need popular approval to know we're right."

Tucker smirked back, folding his own arms in a teasing imitation of her posture. "Fair enough."

"Okay," said Danny, "I'm assuming that means that you're both not fighting anymore. That's great, because we've got company!" There was a pause, in which Danny's friends realized that the crowd had become temporarily hushed. The next moment of quiet was pierced by a chorus of shrieks, and someone shouted 'It's a ghost!'.

Tucker was already looking around the corner and pointing and calling back to his friends. "There she is! She's heading for… Oh crud, she's heading for the meat truck!"

"The meat truck?" Danny asked incredulously, taking advantage of their secluded area to change forms. His lungs stopped working and ice flooded through his veins along with a strange, weightless energy. He felt himself drifting upward as gravity's hold on him became a parody of what it usually was, and he almost missed Sam's reply in the rush of still-foreign sensations.

"One of those meat lovers' parents works at a butcher's shop! They brought all the makings to have a massive barbecue at lunch!" she explained. "We brought salad."

"Oh great, more materials for the Lunch Lady. Sam, Tuck, I need you guys to clear the area, fast!"

"I'm on it!" Sam said, breaking into a run towards her crowd without another word.

Tuck was wincing, looking uncomfortable. "I'll try, man, but I don't know if they'll listen to me."

"Just try!"

"Will do!" Tucker said, and then sprinted off as well.

Danny shook his hands to loosen his wrists, wondering why it felt as though half his bruises had migrated and sort-of-healed. It probably had something to do with the fact that he was in ghost form, now, so he simply rolled his shoulders with a wince and tried to put it out of his mind. Now wasn't the time to think about how much he hurt, he needed to focus on remembering everything his mom had taught him about Karate, he needed to remember if his dad had ever mentioned anything about ghost weaknesses that he could use, he needed to… Danny took in a deep breath and slowly let it out, stepping out from around the school building's corner to take in the chaos.

The crowd was in a panic. People were running in all directions, some of them trying to take refuge in the school, some heading for the parking lot, and some looking like they were heading back and forth trying to decide. There were a few adults here and there trying to restore order, but they looked just as afraid as the students and as Danny watched some of them gave up and headed for shelter.

The crude wooden stage that had been hastily erected for the protest had been knocked over along with its man-high speakers. Sam grabbed the microphone and roared into it anyway. Danny saw (with no little relief) that some people were actually listening to her, and were showing enough sense to find cover instead of running around like headless chickens

Tucker, meanwhile, was having less success than Sam was. The loudspeaker he was shouting through did little but add to the noise, and anyone from the meat-lover's crowd who was taking cover or fleeing the chaos was probably just a coincidence.

Danny was distracted by a horrible crashing sound that made everyone scream a little louder and duck instinctively. He floated higher, and was able to see that the meat truck's windows had exploded outwards in a shower of safety glass, and that food was streaming out of it. He dimly registered the fact that they had packed an impressive amount of food into one truck, before hearing another explosive 'crash!', and then yet another. He saw movement from the parking lot and rose a few more feet in the air, trying to see.

'Great. Of course a single truck wouldn't have been enough to feed an entire school,' he thought, feeling his stomach sink. There were two more trucks in the parking lot, both with meat floating out the windows. Blood-covered filet's, sausages, ham ribs, and all sorts of meaty things were bobbing in the air as though held by invisible strings, carrying themselves over to a place somewhere near the sidewalk separating the field from the parking lot. Danny followed their trajectory with his eyes and finally saw her.

She was a bit more transparent today than she was yesterday, but even with that and from his distance he could see that she was still green, she still had glowing red eyes, and she still looked absolutely sour-tempered. Meat was sticking to her like magnets on a refrigerator, staying where they landed and moving only when something landed on them in a new layer of bulk. When she made a gesture at the first truck that had burst—its stream of food was starting to thin—the meat followed her arms, showing clearly where they were. Slamming and banging noises started coming from inside the truck and Danny glanced at it, feeling suddenly extremely apprehensive. When an enormous butcher's knife stabbed through the truck's back door he felt his blood run cold.

More knives followed, making slits in the sheet of metal and ramming their way through with inhuman strength, leaving holes that puckered outward like little wounds. He heard the same stabbing noises coming from the other trucks, and knew that the same was happening to them. He had to stop the lunch lady from gaining control over any more barbecue supplies, or he'd be in more trouble than he already was.

"Hey old hag!" He shouted, flying quickly but unsteadily forward. Had he been this afraid yesterday? Did his voice crack then like it did now? "Why don't you pick on someone your own size!" Danny was glad he was he was trying to distract her rather than awe her; if he hadn't been he'd have just lost.

Seeing her turn and blink slowly at him, expression curling in disdain, Danny decided that awe would have been nicer to see. "My own size?" She repeated, her voice both deep enough to rattle the ground and high enough to set his teeth on edge. Some of the people closest to her clapped their hands over their ears, and as he approached Danny fought the urge to do the same. "Are you speaking to me, dearie?"

"Y-Yeah!" Danny stopped floating when he was about twenty feet away from her. He eyed the meat around her, and he edged back a few feet, wondering if he was still within range of her 'extended' fists.

She laughed, a mixture of pity and arrogance ringing and thundering in the sound. "You poor, poor little boy! After that beating you took yesterday I thought you'd had enough." Her laughter faded, and she looked at him a little sadly. "Improper nutrition can sometimes cause brain damage… where are your parents?"

"Leave them out of this!" Danny yelled back. Next to her booming voice his own sounded weak and paper-thin. "And leave this school alone, while you're at it! We've already resolved the whole lunch problem, and we're changing the menu back."

Red eyes focused on green, and Danny clenched his fists to fight a shudder. There was nothing but rising obsession in those eyes, and her expression contorted grotesquely as she snarled. "You think this problem is the lunch menu? That was only the beginning! The cooks here have no idea what they've done, and what poisons they've been serving children, who trusted them to give them something they could eat!"

"Actually, we don't trust them that much…" Danny muttered.

The Lunch Lady didn't seem to hear. "They have no idea what diseases they could be spreading in that sloppy, uncared for, cheap, poorly washed pigsty they dare call a kitchen!" Her voice was rising to the point of shouting, and Danny covered his ears this time. By now the crowd was almost entirely gone, but there were still a few stragglers.

Watching a couple of sophomores wrestle the school's door open and dart inside, Danny said distractedly, "Well, the food seems alright to me."

It was the wrong thing to say. Cold rage made her expression go suddenly slack, and her eyes riveted on him in a way that grabbed his attention and froze him in midair. "Poor dearie… you would say that. It's all you've ever known, and all you ever will. You don't know any better, so you still eat it, happy as any little boy should be. Except that the food isn't right for you, the food will kill you."

"How's the food supposed to kill me?" Danny interrupted apprehensively, watching her anger mount.

The Lunch Lady answered without skipping a beat. "They're fixing it all wrong. They're not doing it like they must. I prepared the lunches in those kitchens for fifty years, child, and they're not doing it the way that... never-mind, they wouldn't understand, and neither will you."

Danny felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up as her tone became a whole new level of sickly sweet. The knives collected from the trucks had somehow been joined by portable barbecues, and there were small tanks of lighter fluid and gasoline floating along with everything else. Danny shivered, and this time not because of his ghost sense: his would not end well.

She went on in a rising voice as the objects floated around her, ignoring the fact that blood from the meat stuck to her head was dripping down her face. She was dripping everywhere, now that Danny noticed it, but until now her face had been untouched, and the effect was disturbing. "Young man, you and all your little friends have been tainted by these horrible foods. Even if we changed the lunch menu now there would always be the tiniest bits of remains from your last meal in that cafeteria! No, this ends here and now. I will not tolerate my kitchen being defiled so horribly after pouring my life and soul into it!" By the time she finished she was screaming, and she gasped for breath, repeating "I won't!"

Danny shuddered, but forced his hands away from his ears to assume an aggressive stance. "Lady… it's just lunch," he said.

"Not in my kitchen!" she bellowed. She threw one arm forward as though reaching for Danny, who stared in fascination as all meat that was pressed to her body suddenly -traveled down her arm in a rippling chain-reaction and sped towards him alarmingly fast. The ham at the end of the whip-like appendage hit him squarely in the chest with enough force to send him flying back, tumbling head over heels.

Sam's voice split the air, sounding pathetically human. "Danny, look out!"

Danny righted himself in the air, but didn't have enough time or orientation to dodge. The ham hit him again, this time slamming into his face so hard that he saw stars and heard roaring.

"Left, Danny, go left!" It was Tucker this time, coming from a different direction. Danny blindly threw himself left, and was slammed into by a hit that knocked the air from his longs. "Oh shit!" yelled Tucker, "I meant my left, sorry!"

Danny wanted to yell something back, but he was gasping for air and just barely missed getting bludgeoned again. He heard something crash and splinter, and saw that the meat had punched right through a picnic table behind him. When the limb drew back, most of the meat had been stripped away to leave shattered, wickedly sharp bone. He stared at the small circle of exposed red as though he'd never seen bone-marrow before. At the last second he pulled himself together and avoided being skewered, rolling to one side and whirling to face his opponent.

Sam suddenly shrieked a panicked "Danny!" and Tucker bellowed, "Go intangible!" Without questioning them Danny flung himself into the stuffy-headed state that always accompanied intangibility. Curved knives as long as his arm whistled dangerously as they pelted through the air where his body had been only a millisecond before, and he fought the urge to gawk and make sure they had really missed him.

This wasn't working. He was getting thrown around, and the Lunch Lady was honestly trying to hurt him—maybe even kill him. If he didn't do something fast this was going to get worse he might get seriously. He felt cold all over when it occurred to him that he might die.

"Sam! Tucker!" He shouted, skittering out of the way of another vicious stab from the ham-bone.

A twin chorus of 'What!'s replied. Danny was suddenly too busy zigzagging closer to his opponent to answer at first. "Find my dad! Get something from him that can—" he broke off, hitting the ground as a long rope of sausages cracked through the air like a whip where his chest had just been. "—anything that can help stop her!"

"The Fenton Thermos!" One of his friends shouted. He was too busy to care who.

"You actually remembered that!?" the other said, more quietly. Both voices kept talking, but they were fading too fast for him to follow anything else. All through this the Lunch Lady's attention was riveted on Danny and Danny alone, throwing everything she had into trying to dice him to little pieces.

Her crazed red eyes widened when Danny was suddenly only a couple of feet away from her, and a kick to her meat covered belly sent her staggering back. She lashed out automatically and Danny felt the sausage-whip wrap around his arm, and he howled in pain when it cracked to a stop. He yanked on the whip and was momentarily frozen in the wave of agony that the movement brought him. The end 'attached' to the Lunch Lady came loose with his actions, and the rope hung limp and useless.

"You're fast, for such a skinny boy." The Lunch Lady muttered, shaking herself and laboriously standing up again. The mumble was more to herself than to him, but it didn't matter. Danny felt the words rumble through his chest like an irregular beat from a high-bass stereo, and he wished again that he could cover his ears.

"Yeah, well, I'm not as skinny as I look," he said. He knew it didn't make sense, but he had no time for anything coherent because she was pulling back the ham-bone-flail to strike again.

Danny dove forward in a risky dodge and just barely missed getting hit. He scrambled to his feet once he landed, kicking off the ground and flying quickly at the Lady from below. He swung at one of her legs, making her spin a little in the air. She didn't look hurt: the meat was protecting her. Acting on impulse he darted through the air and threw a hasty punch at her face, drawing back almost as soon as he'd arrived.

Apparently he hit her harder than he thought he had, because she shrieked in pain and tumbled backwards. Packets of meat dropped like bloated flies, rising sluggishly to try to resume their places as she regained her balance. Danny still was up close and drawing back to punch again before she could regain her 'footing', and his second hit sent her sprawling. His third hit was a roundhouse to the side, but he immediately realized that that was a mistake: the sausage-whip attached to his arm had been swaying precariously close to the Lady with each blow, and this kick brought the whip in contact with her literal meat-shield, reminding her of its existence.

She made a move with both arms so suddenly that it was almost convulsive, and Danny felt the sausage tighten in a crushing grip. He shrieked as a wave of fresh agony pounded through his upper-arm as bruises were smothered and muscle was torn and squeezed. Quickly Danny clawed at the imprisoning meat with his uninjured arm, trying desperately to free himself.

"If only you hadn't had your luck…" The Lunch Lady said softly, almost affectionately. Danny gritted his teeth as her voice kept its shrieking and rumbling quality, and stopped his unsuccessful attempts to escape the sausage: it was no use, and he'd be better off looking for another opening to use against her instead. She went on, "… you could have been such a healthy young boy, full of life and ready to face each day with a smile."

Danny said nothing. Then he saw something behind her that he hadn't noticed before: Sam and Tucker were back, and Tucker was holding something that glinted in the cold morning light.

He had a Fenton Thermos.

Danny swiveled his gaze back onto the Lunch Lady and assumed another aggressive stance as best he could, holding his hands out in front of him. To the Lunch Lady, it looked as though he was preparing for another round of fighting. To his best friends, his open and slightly cupped hands were a flashing neon sign: throw it.

Danny heard a faint grunt of exertion before the thermos was soaring through the air, turning slowly before he darted up and snatched it up.

"… What is that?" The Lunch Lady asked slowly, but Danny paid no attention to her and focused on wrenching the cap off and finding the right button.

He found it quickly and jerked the thermos to aim it at her, giving her a smirk that was oddly fierce for someone as battered and tired as he was. "It's your worst nightmare!" he said loudly, and then flicked the switch.

Blue and white light exploded into view in a pillar of lightning and crackling energy. There was a horrible, ear-splitting, ground-shaking howl of rage and fear as the meat packets fell limply from the Lunch Lady's control, and the Lunch Lady's outline blurred and stretched towards the light.

There were no words in her panicked shrieks, and after her image had disappeared into the torrent of light even her voice began to fade. Danny could just barely see a little light next to the button change its color, and he flicked the switch again.

The light disappeared and the silence that followed was so loud it could have registered on the Richter scale. Danny heaved air in and out of his lungs, and he realized that he was suddenly absolutely exhausted. The adrenaline was wearing off much more quickly than he personally thought it should, and it was a good thing he was floating or his knees would have probably given out then and there. Maybe he'd been wearing down all along and had finished the fight just in time?

One way or another, he started to sink, and as soon as his feet touched the ground two rings of light appeared at his waist and snapped away from each other, leaving an exhausted, trembling boy in their wake. Danny swayed a little, but before he actually fell he was steadied by two pairs of hands, which soon were the only things holding him up.

"… Dude. That was totally freaking awesome," said Tucker calmly.

"Hey, are you hurt anywhere?" Sam asked. Danny sensed her and Tucker exchange glances, and he found himself abruptly sitting down. He dimly registered that they were hovering around him, but he was gulping air like a fish and too focused on trying to figure out if it was doing him any good to care.

"I'm tired," he said between gasps.

"Yeah, we see that," said Sam dryly. "You can't walk, can you?"

Danny paused, trying to figure out whether he could or not.

That was answer enough, and Sam shifted her position while exchanging another look with Tucker. "You take his arms, I'll take his ankles. We'll bring him to the parking lot, and I can call my chauffer to bring us to his house."

"What about school?" asked Tucker, though he was already shifting to follow the plan.

"Dude, look at this place! What with everything that's happened they'll probably close it for the rest of the week."

"Good point."

Danny was having trouble following them, and he wondered if it was a good thing that his exhaustion was making him sleepy, and that darkness was eating at the corners of his vision. He decided it wasn't but that he couldn't do much about it anyway. Even as he felt his ankles and forearms being gripped for the second time in as many days he let his eyes sink closed and drifted off into a blissful nothingness.

"Danny, are you okay?" Jazz asked him from his room's doorway. She was eyeing his sprawled position on his bed skeptically, not at all convinced by his 'I'm totally studying' pose. The upside-down history book resting on his chest was sort of a giveaway.

"I'm fine, Jazz," He said without looking up.

"He's fine, Jazz," Tucker confirmed before she could ask him.

"He's just tired," added Sam, not looking up from the book while she spoke, either.

"Tired doing what? It's a school-free day after whatever happened yesterday, and you've been here for hours doing nothing." Jazz saw the three exchange significant glances and felt her sisterly radar tingle. Something Not-Normal was going on.

"We hung out a lot yesterday," Danny said slowly, shifting around to get comfortable. "We went to Sam's place this morning and did a bunch of stuff."

"Yeah, and we're tired now," said Tucker.

"Is there any reason why Danny looks more tired than either of you two?" Jazz asked suspiciously.

"Danny lost a bet," said Sam. "It's his fault."

Tucker nodded in agreement and looked back at the laptop on his lap.

Jazz studied the three for a few moments longer before sighing. "…Whatever. I heard that they're planning to have school tomorrow, so don't get all tired today again or you'll be sorry you did."

"Okay, Jazz," said Danny, and his friends gave twin grunts of agreement.

After she finally left and closed the door, there was a comfortable silence between the three. The previous day's events had exhausted all of them (though Danny more than the other two), but it had also left them with a sort of peace they hadn't had before. They had always been a team, but now they knew that in a pinch they could pull themselves through together.

Tuck lifted his head and looked at Danny. "By the way, I've been meaning to ask."

"What is it?" said Danny. Sam looked up, too.

"Just before you turned the thermos on you said a witty one-liner to that ghost," explained Tucker.

Danny looked confused, while Sam snorted and laughed. "I… did?" he said. "I barely remember that, I was so focused on just getting her in the thermos."

"Oh, you said something alright," said Sam, who had settled down to chortles.

"What did I say?" Danny sounded apprehensive.

His friends exchanged glances, chorusing as one. "'Your worst nightmare!'" Then they both burst out laughing.

"What?!" Danny said, sounding appalled. "You're kidding, I didn't say that!"

"Yes you did!" said Sam.

"We both heard you, man, you said it!" said Tucker.

"Come on, guys, you're pulling my leg!" Danny pleaded, covering his face with his hands.

His friends giggled about it for the rest of the afternoon. When Danny's mom poked her head in later with cookies from the Fenton-oven, she saw her son and his friends enjoying themselves (though obviously not doing homework.) She smiled anyway and offered them drinks.

They accepted, and for now, life was back to normal.

Personally, this is how I see Danny's first fights going: easy enough to not discourage him, but dangerous enough to make him take them seriously and feel a rush of adrenaline.