So you have wished it... and lots of people made it known that they did. With pitchforks. And three-tine pitchforks (aka: tridents).

So it shall be. For better or for worse...

Endings and Beginnings
A Danny Phantom FanFiction by Cordria

I winced at the sound of my mother's voice and the look of slowly growing comprehension on her face. Momentarily unable to breathe, my heart stuttered and a stab of terrified adrenaline slammed through my gut. It took a long second before I was able to draw in a shaky breath. "What?" I asked, my voice a hoarse croak.

There was no question about what she had seen and I knew that this was the one puzzle piece she needed figure everything out. When she looked up at me, her eyes wide with some strange sort of understanding, I licked my lips uneasily. "Explain this," she repeated, her voice soft and stunned.

I pushed away from the wall and walked up to her, reaching out to take the diplomas from her hands, but Mom pulled away from me. "Mom…" Her fingers were tightening around the diploma, her knuckles almost turning white.

"Explain this." The third repetition of her request was a bit shorter, anger starting to appear in her voice.

My mind was racing, sweat starting to make the palms of my hands sticky. I didn't really want them to know my secret after all this time – I especially didn't want them to learn it in a packed auditorium full of some of the most fervent Phantom fans on the planet. "Lancer thought that I could give…"

I trailed off when Mom's eyes narrowed and hardened and I took an unconscious step backwards. "If you lie to me right now, Daniel," she snapped, her fury jumping into full force, "you'll never walk into my house again."

A surge of painful emotions curled through me at her words: irritation at her finding this out in such a stupid fashion, terror at what they'd do when I explained all of it, anger at myself for letting this happen. Finally, my eyes dropped down to study my shoes. "Mom," I started, but stopped when I realized that I didn't know what to say.

The problem was that there wasn't anything to say. No words I could string together would satisfy her right now. Mom knew enough of the truth to be furious with me, and after years of lies and the hunting and all the dangerous fights… she had every right to be.

A hand touched my shoulder after a long moment of silence and Sam brushed past me and took the diploma from my mom's hands. I watched out of the corner of my eye as she quietly opened it, swearing softly when she read the contents. Mom watched Sam too, her eyes widening slightly.

"What's going on?" Tucker asked, reaching over Sam's shoulder to take the diploma and scan the inside. "This certifies that Daniel Ph-" he cut off, blinking down at it in confusion. Suddenly a stupid smile appeared on his face and he punched the air happily. "I knew it! I knew Lancer knew…" The smile vanishing from Tucker's face, he trailed off and looked up at us. "Oh, crud," he whispered.

"You knew," Mom said, her voice cutting like knives. I flinched and closed my eyes – I knew I'd have to face her wrath for the years of lies and heartache, but I hadn't really thought much about the fact that Tucker and Sam would be on the receiving end as well. "You knew about this and you never told me? How could you-"

"Mom," I interrupted, reaching out to touch her arm.

She turned to look at me, tense with anger. "Daniel James Fenton, how could you possibly-"

"Mom," I interrupted again, a bit louder. "Will you let me explain?" For a long, horrible second, I didn't think she was going to. I thought she was just going to continue to yell at me in the middle of this crowd of people. But she nodded. "Come on," I said, turning towards the doors.

"Where do you think you're going?" Mom asked, folding her arms tightly, her body rigid.

I glanced back at her and then quickly let my eyes flicker over everyone else. Jazz was looking at the diploma in Tucker's hands, the color draining from her face. Dad seemed completely confused and Sam and Tucker looked startled and pitying. "I'm not doing this here."

Sam, Tucker, and Jazz caught on and started heading towards the exit, but Mom simply planted her feet and narrowed her eyes further. "Why not?" she demanded.

"Because I'm not," I said softly, my shoulders sagging as it hit me: after all those years, I was going to tell my parents about my double life. When Mom looked like nothing was going to move her, I just shook my head and sighed. "I'll be in the RV when you want to listen."

"Mads," Dad said, finally speaking up. He grabbed her elbow and started to steer her towards the exit. "Come on."

I smiled sadly at him, trying to ignore the questions swimming in his eyes, and fell into step behind them. People all around me were partying and celebrating, but it suddenly seemed so far away and so long ago to me. What was I going to say to my parents? Silence met my mental question, my brain refusing to be at all helpful.

Someone suddenly bumped into me and I looked up with a glare, frustrated ire jumping into my throat. The woman - someone's mother, probably - blinked in surprise before moving off, glancing over her shoulder at me. Clenching my fingers a few times and swallowing down the unsettled feeling in my stomach, I let out a slow breath and let my thoughts churn about what was going to happen. In my dreams, I always knew what I'd do if my parents found out. My parents always accepted me and life just moved on.

The door to the auditorium swung open and I trailed after my family, stepping into the afternoon sunshine. I looked up at the sky as I walked through the parking lot, watching a bird trace lazy circles against a cloud-speckled sky, wishing I was up there too.

In the sunlight? In reality? Would my parents still accept this?

I pinched my arm, hoping faintly that this was just another twisted dream. But people dressed in black kept brushing past me, chattering excitedly, and the vague half-wish fizzled away. There'd be no waking up from this one.

The door to the RV unlocked with a click, my dad reaching up to pull it open and escort us inside. I picked a random spot against a wall, the blood rushing through my brain making me feel a little dizzy. When the door slammed shut, I jumped, licking my lips, convinced my parents could hear my heart pounding in my chest from where they were sitting. My eyes flickered to the door, then to the floor, then finally – and slowly – up to meet my parents' eyes.

"Explain," Mom said shortly, leaning forwards and fixing me with her gaze.

My mouth moved a few times, no words forming. "I…" I managed to say, my voice breaking on even that small word. I felt my foot bounce a few times nervously, then I reached inside and tapped the cold little spot in my mind.

I didn't truly mean to turn into Phantom. I was trying to steal a bit of my ghost side's emotionless bravery and no fear attitude, but in the nervous heat of the moment I reached too far. Or, as Ms. Psychotherapy-in-training would probably tell me, I really meant to and I just didn't want to think that I did. Something convoluted like that.

About one heartbeat of pure, unbridled panic flared through me before the rings of energy washed over me and my ghost's detached emotions pushed the feeling away. I was still terrified, but it was something distant that I could ignore if I wanted.

I wanted. So very much.

"How?"

I flinched slightly at my mom's voice. The fury in her voice was gone, replaced by something much softer and cooler. Her face was blank, her body loose – except her hands, which were curled white-knuckled in my dad's. A hand crept up to the back of my neck, my weight shifting in a far-flung sort of nervousness at her impassive gaze. She looked a lot like she did when she was about to dissect something: blank and uncaring.

"The portal accident when I was fourteen," I said, my voice quiet.

She simply blinked, her eyes unfocusing for a moment, and nodded, every bit the scientist and not the mother. "Why didn't you tell us?"

"I…" I shrugged and let my eyes drift to the ground. There was no good answer to this question. "I guess I didn't want you to know." It wasn't the right answer – and it was far from the complete truth – but it was the easiest thing to say and the only thing I could say. Anything else I said would only have made the whole thing worse.

The silence that followed that remark stretched for too long. My lip found its way between my teeth and I felt my muscles tensing. Dad spoke next. "You've been ghost hunting."

I glanced up at him, seeing the stunned look on his face, and nodded. "Yeah."

"You let us hunt you." Mom's words weren't a question.

"Yeah." The word barely escaped my mouth and I'm not sure they even heard it. Words bubbled inside of me – how I wasn't ever in any real danger, how they weren't really that good of ghost hunters anyways, how I modified their equipment (with my friends' help) so it wouldn't track me, how good I'd gotten and how many ghosts I'd caught – but my teeth seemed glued together.

A soft sound, something like a sigh, filtered through the small RV. "Thus the bruises and things."

I shrugged. "It's no big deal."

"No big deal?" Her voice sounded bewildered and lost. "No big deal? My son has been dead for four years and it's no big deal?"

"I'm not dead," I put in quickly, my head jerking up. I took a step closer to her, my breath catching and my forward movement stalling when she appeared to press away from me. "Mom, I'm not dead."

Dad nodded, but Mom's emotionless expression never changed. She continued to stare at me like a scientist examining a ghost. Which, technically, she was.

"Really," I said softly, gazing into her eyes. I wanted to run away, I wanted to fly, I wanted to do anything but be here right now doing this, but I didn't have a choice. There was no going back; there was no changing this. I took a deep breath and slowly walked up to her, her eyes widening and her body tensing like a bird's right before it takes off. Kneeling down in front of her, I reached out and touched her hand. It was still clutching my father's hand for dear life. "I promise."

She slowly unwound her fingers from Dad's, letting them trail over my hand. I could feel the warmth of her skin; undoubtedly she could feel the coldness of mine. The artery in her neck pulsed wildly, her eyes still watching me warily, and I waited. It took every ounce of will-power I possessed to stay still.

Butterflies threatened to tie knots in my stomach and the nerves in my legs twitched, wanting to move and run away from this. My living side battered at the ghost currently in charge, screaming to be let free. I squashed it back down, swallowed hard, and let my gaze flicker to my father and back to Mom. I couldn't change back, not yet.

"Danny," Dad said, but his voice trailed off and he shook his head, his forehead wrinkling in confusion.

Unexpectedly Mom's hand moved, reaching out to touch my chest. I flinched slightly from the contact and tried not to lean back as her hand traveled up to my neck and pressed down. "Jack," she whispered, the blankness receding slightly from her eyes and a glistening wetness showing up around the corners. "D-Danny."

Seeing the tears in her eyes tipped the battle waging inside my mind. I lost the fight with my human side and felt life wash through me in a warm, heavy wave. Mom jerked her hand away as energy passed over me and she breathed in once, sharply, her fingers pressing into her mouth.

Human emotions slammed into me, seemingly angry about having been shuttered for the last minute or so. My stomach twisted hard, my hands suddenly started to sweat, and my throat tightened painfully. I took a shuttering breath and let it out slowly, trying to calm my stomach. "I'm not dead," I repeated.

She blinked at me a few times, her eyes full of tears, then she threw her arms around me. I tensed for a moment before letting her pull me tightly to her. Her heart was racing and her breath was hitching in her lungs, her hands curling themselves into my graduation robe. Abruptly, she backed away and grabbed my shoulders. "I'm furious with you," she said, her eyes shining. A hand left my shoulder to trace over my face and tap my nose a few times. She closed her eyes and nodded to herself. "I'm furious with you," she whispered a second time.

"I know," I muttered, looking down at the floor. "And I'm sorry."

"You've been Phantom all this time?" Dad asked softly. I had never heard him speak so quietly before. Nodding as my hand crept back towards my neck, I looked at my father through my bangs. He seemed a little broken, his eyes apparently not able to focus on me for more than a second or two. "I've been hunting my own son all this time."

I bit my lip and looked away, nodding. "I'm-"

"It's okay, Dad," Jazz cut in quietly, reaching out to touch his arm. "You haven't ever hurt him. I've been making sure he was safe-"

"You knew?"

I closed my eyes and winced, feeling Mom's hands leaving my shoulders. "Mom-"

When I glanced up at her, Mom had twisted in her seat, her tear-stained eyes focused on Jazz. My sister had shrunk back against the wall, her eyes wide and surprised. "All this time," Mom seethed softly, "the three of you knew what kind of danger my son was in and you never told me?" When a chorus of nods met her question, Mom's eyes closed tightly, her hands coming up to press at her eyes. "He could have been hurt. He could have been killed! Not to mention the fact that there are dozens - hundreds! - of experiments and weapons in that house that never would have been done if we would have known about this. You let me put my child in danger."

"Mom-" I tried again, but she wasn't done.

"I fully realize that teenagers don't always make wonderful decisions, but this one I can't imagine any of you making. I thought you had something resembling a head on your shoulders. What would you have done if Danny got hurt? How could you possibly imagine that I would have ever forgiven you if he would have gotten seriously hurt and you'd never told me?"

"Mom, please," I said.

"What if I had hurt him?" Tears were trickling down her cheeks from behind her hands, the fury in her voice cracking. "What if I had hurt my own son?"

I reached out and grabbed her hands, pulling them away from her face. Mom's eyes were red and her hands were shaking. "It's my fault," I said softly. "Don't blame them."

"What if this ghost thing he can do is dangerous?" she continued, looking over my head at my sister and my friends. Her voice was raw with anger and terror. "What if he's seriously hurting himself - killing himself maybe? And you... any of you... you never thought to tell me."

"It's my fault," I said again, louder, pulling her attention to me. The broken look in her eyes slammed straight into my gut, making it clench painfully. "They only did what I told them to do. Stop yelling at them."

For a long, horrible minute, she just stared down at me. Her shoulders moved up and down as she breathed, quietly shaking her head. Finally she closed her eyes and stood up, moving to sit in the driver's seat of the RV and stare out the front window.

"Mom-"

"Mads," Dad interrupted softly, getting up, one hand reaching out to pat my head as he stepped past to settle into the passenger seat. He pushed the armrest out of the way and scooted close to my mom, pulling her to him. "It's okay."

"No it's not," I heard her whisper, her voice breaking. "Jack, how can this be okay?"

I looked down at the floor and let out a slow trickle of air. "Great," I breathed, twisting around and pushing myself into the seat my mother had vacated. Propping my elbows on my knees and my chin in my hands, I glanced at my friends for the first time in a long while. Sam just stared at me, her face pale with red spots on her cheeks, her mouth slightly open and a dazed look in her eyes. Tucker had his white-knuckled hands twisted into his pants, his face turned to stare at his knees.

Jazz looked between me and our parents, her face a bit red, but when she caught my eye she sighed and gave me a small half-smile. "I knew this was coming," she mouthed.

I rolled my eyes at that and sent her a tiny grin, but I couldn't keep up any sort of happy mood for more than a few heartbeats. My heart broke as I listened to my mother crying from the front seat, knowing it was all my fault. "Good for you," I mouthed back sourly. "What do I do?"

Shrugging, Jazz glanced towards the front seat, then focused on watching her fingers weaving together in her lap.

She seemed perfectly content to wait for Mom to get over it, but I wasn't. I didn't want to hear how badly I'd hurt her over the past four years - I wanted her to accept it and smile and be happy... even if it was something of a far-fetched dream. I wasn't sure what to do, but I knew that doing nothing wasn't going to change anything.

Taking a deep breath, I pushed myself to my feet and slipped to the front of the RV. Mom was curled up against Dad, her face buried in his shoulder. When I saw a few tears on my dad's face, my stomach gave a small flip. "I'm sorry," I whispered. It wasn't enough, but I had no idea what else to give. Dad looked up at me, sending me tiniest of nods. I bit my lip, feeling my heart beating in my throat. "Like I said, it was the portal accident. I'm not dead - I promise! - and I'm not really a ghost. Not by their standards, anyways. I'm... like... kind of... something like... a half-ghost."

I shot a look over my shoulder. Jazz smiled at me, nudging Tucker so that he looked up. Tucker's eyes were rimmed with red, but he sent me a weary grin. Sam shook her head with a faint smile, but then nodded, rolled her eyes, and crossed her arms, her smile changing to a scowl. When I looked back at my parents, my mom had half-turned in the seat and was looking up at me.

"It's not hurting me," I said softly, dropping into a crouch and pulling some energy out of the air. I molded it between my hands, forming it into a small ball of brightly-burning plasma. I stared at it, unwilling to look up at my parents. "And it doesn't hurt. If it did, if I was ever in any real danger, I would have told you."

"How can you say that?" Mom asked quietly. "I've seen some of the things Phan... you have done. How can you possibly say you weren't in any real danger?"

Rolling the tiny ball of energy, I ran my tongue over my teeth. "See, there came a point when explaining this to you was scarier than fighting off some stupid ghost." I let the plasma roll to a stop in my hand, feeling it start to seep between my fingers like freezing goop. "All those times I lied to you... and let you chase me around... and all those misunderstandings... I had no idea how to even start explaining that."

"You're going to explain them all," she said, "and answer every single question we have."

I nodded.

"Honestly, Danny. No more lies," she added.

I closed my eyes and nodded, swallowing a lump that had developed in my throat. "I promise."

"Good."

Looking up at her, my stomach twisting at the strange combination of fury and sadness and fear still on her face, I sent her a smile. I tried to anyways - I wasn't sure how well it turned out. It must have done something, because Mom's lips turned up into a small, sad smile and she sat up a bit straighter. I felt something inside of me melt at that small sign that things would be all right.

"I get the first question," Dad rumbled, his eyes focused on the glowing light in my hand. I looked down at it, twirling my fingers a few times to get the ectoplasm back into a rough ball-shape, and waited for him to say something. Dozens of questions raced through my mind - from the insane to the arcane - and I thought he'd pick the hardest question to ask first. But he surprised me with an easy one: "Why were you late to graduation today?"

I blinked at him, rocking back on my heels. "Um... I was in-" I cut off suddenly, realizing that I was about to lie to my parents yet again. Taking a breath and shaking my head, I steeled myself to tell my parents the truth for once. It came out hesitantly, each word a struggle to cross my lips. "Skulker wanted to play tetherball."

I had been hoping that would be that - new question, move on - but Dad seemed to have finally found his voice after being silent all this time. "Who's Skulker?"

"The big, robotic ghost," I answered slowly, letting my eyes focus on the ectoplasm in my hands. I squeezed it and molded it into different shapes, not wanting to look up. This conversation was going to quickly take a horrible turn, I could feel it.

"The one that's always chasing you around, yelling about hunting?" Mom asked. I heard her shift in her chair and I nodded, rolling the plasma into a ball again.

"Why does he want to play tetherball with you?" Dad's voice sounded confused.

I glanced up at Dad, feeling my heart skip a few times at the question. My toes clenched inside my shoes, my fingers tightening around the ectoplasm I'd been playing with. "Um..." Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Sam slowly shaking her head. I shot Tucker a look, but he just shook his head and looked away. "Skulker... he..." I took a deep breath, then let it out quickly. "He doesn't. He thinks my head would make the perfect tetherball."

There were a few beats of silence before I looked up through my bangs. Mom's face was slowly devolving into some sort of protective anger, but Dad still looked bewildered. "How would he do that?" Dad asked. "Don't you have to hit a tetherball around a pole?"

"I'm assuming," I muttered quietly, "that my head wouldn't be attacked to me anymore when he decides to play."

Dad stiffened at that, his eyebrows wrinkling together on his forehead as he worked through everything that meant.

"Where is this Skulker now?" Mom wondered softly. She leaned forwards and pushed some of the bangs out of my eyes and pushed against my forehead, making me look up at her.

I shrugged, pulling away from her fingers and looking back down. My foot twitched and I had to catch another lie in my throat before it could worm its way out instead of the truth. "In a Fenton Thermos."

A moment of quiet met that answer and I heard a soft sigh, followed by a quiet chuckle. Surprised, I looked up to see my mother gazing at me with something almost like a smile on her face. "You're not very good at answering these questions," she said softly. A snort of laughter came from behind me and I flushed a little. Then her somewhat-happy look vanished, her smile fading to a frown. "I suppose there's a reason for it."

I tensed at that, worried that she'd ask, knowing that she'd never forgive me if I told her all the people that were out there after me and exactly why I was keeping my double-life a secret from so many people... Vlad and Valerie and the GiW and lots of ghosts and...

Something must have crossed my face because she tipped her head to the side and narrowed her eyes. Her gaze flickered down to my hands and I followed her gaze, surprised to see how intensely bright the ball of ectoplasm had grown. I crushed it in my hand, absorbing the energy, the light dying abruptly. I closed my eyes and waited for the question.

"Where's the Thermos," Mom asked.

My eyes shot open and I looked up at her in surprise. That hadn't been the question I'd thought she was going to ask. My mind scrambled for a moment, coming up with the answer, then I stuttered out, "In the boy's bathroom behind the gym." She reached up and brushed at her eyes, pushing her hair behind her ears, and set that small, kind-of-fake-but-mostly-real smile back on her face. I glanced away, feeling my legs start to twitch again. "I... probably should go get it..." I muttered, feeling the sudden desire to get out of the RV for awhile.

Mom shook her head. "You're not going anywhere, Danny. We've got-"

"Hold on a sec, Mads," Dad cut in, reaching over and touching her hand before turning to me. "How long can Stalker-Hunter stay in this Thermos?"

I licked my lips and shrugged. "I don't know - weeks, maybe. You invented it; you tell me."

"But nobody ever got it working," Dad replied, glancing at me. I shrugged again, unable to think of how to answer that.

"If it can stay in there for weeks, you can get it later," Mom said firmly. "We're going home and talking about this. All six of us."

I blinked at that, the words tumbling out of my mouth before I thought it through. "But it's kind of cruel... the Thermos is tiny."

The RV went silent for a beat. Behind me, I heard two people snickering softly. Mom opened and closed her mouth a few times, then shook her head. "If it tried to use your head as a tetherball, maybe being in a Thermos for a few days would do it good."

"Danny has an odd sense of justice," Sam said from behind me, her voice barely audible.

I shot her a glare. "I do not. You just can't treat a ghost the same way you treat a human - Skulker doesn't get it. He's obsessed with hunting and no amount of time trapped in a Thermos will change that. He's probably already forgotten why he's in there anyways. That changes it from him being cruel to me being cruel."

"I'll go get it," Tucker volunteered quickly, already half-way to the door. "I'll meet you at your house... eventually."

"You can't get it, Tucker," I muttered.

He blinked at me a few times, then sagged into a chair, eying the door with a bit of jealousy. "Right."

"Why can't Tucker go get it?" Dad put in. "That sounded like a plan..."

"When Danny hides something," Sam answered, leaning forwards, "it stays hidden unless you decide to tear down all the walls, floors, and ceilings. And even then you might not find it." She smiled slightly. "The only person who can get it is Danny."

I shrugged and studied my fingers. "I can get it later," I mumbled softly. "Let's go home."

Mom's fingers touched my chin and raised my head until I had to look at her. She stared at my face for a long time before she shook her head. "Go get it."

One of my eyebrows went up at that. "No, it's okay. I can-"

"Just go, Danny," she said, a bit more firmly. "We'll see you at home."

Her fingers came off my chin, but I kept gazing at her. "Okay..." I got to my feet and slipped out the door, closing it behind me and leaning against the side of the RV. My eyes closed and I took a deep, shuddering breath. "That was fun," I mouthed. "Not."

I pushed away from the RV, winding my way through the crowds of people still packing the parking lot. My mind worried about what was going on inside the RV without me - what kind of questions my parents were asking, how my friends were answering, what they were saying about me. How many of my secrets were going to be spilled without me even knowing? How many psychological melodramas was my sister getting my parents to believe in?

Deciding that I almost wanted to be back in the RV instead of having this little 'reprieve' from the questioning, I stumbled right into party-central. It still was graduation, after all. "Danny!" came a familiar voice, Paulina sidling up next to me. "I need a picture!"

"I don't know where the ghost boy is," I muttered automatically, causing Paulina to fall into a fit of giggles.

"No, with you silly!" she cooed, wrapping an arm around my shoulder and grinning into the mass of people.

"Paulina, not right-" I started, but a flash came from somewhere and Paulina was gone, only to be replaced by people I didn't barely knew. By the time I made it to the doors of the school, I'd signed fourteen autograph books, didn't remember to smile for nine pictures, and wormed my way out of a dozen conversations with teachers I'd never see again.

Finding a quiet spot just inside the school, I dropped to the floor and sighed, pressing a hand against my forehead. A headache was starting to develop and I groaned. Dealing with crowds of people wasn't my strong suit on most days - today it was worse than normal. Finally I just shook my head and twisted invisible, flipping over to Phantom before vanishing through the walls.

"Hello, Thermos," I whispered as I snuck into the appropriate bathroom and raided the wall behind the center stall. I picked it up and glared at it, giving the Thermos (and its contents) a firm shake before throwing the strap over my shoulder. "I hate you, Skulker," I told him sourly. "You make my life a living Hell some days."

I pushed off the ground, hovering for a moment, when a soft whistling curled into my ears. I waited, listening, and a thought glittered to life as I recognized the tune. There was a loose end to tie up before I left the school.

I dropped back to the ground, slipping invisible as I stepped through the wall and settled into slow walk beside the one adult who had never left me alone throughout my high school career. He was my teacher for too many classes, then my principal and overseer of a record-setting number of detentions. I watched Mr. Lancer walk, seemingly unaware of my presence.

How in the world did you figure me out? I wondered to myself, listening to that stupid tune he'd taken to whistling lately. I wrinkled my nose and decided to test something. Staying invisible, I let myself fall back to being human. When Mr. Lancer did nothing but continue to walk, I almost snorted out a laugh. If I'd have done that anywhere near Sam or Tucker, they'd have jumped out of their skin.

"Supernaturally dead as a doornail," I said aloud, watching my principal finally flinch and twirl around, the color draining from his face. I laughed a bit and let my invisibility vanish. "How do you figure out who I was if you're that insensitive to the paranormal?"

Mr. Lancer swallowed, a deep breath escaping his lungs. "Mr. Fenton. Don't do that."

I shrugged and smiled at him. "Come on, seriously. How?"

"I'm awesome like that," the principal said, a smile drifting onto his face and color finally starting to reappear in his cheeks. "It took awhile, though," he admitted after a moment. "Too many coincidences fit together too nicely."

"How long did you know?" I asked, rocking back on my heels and tipping my head to the side, curious.

"Better question," Mr. Lancer shot back, "is how long haven't I known?"

I snorted and shook my head. "I'll never get teachers."

He started walking down the hallway again and I fell into step next to him. "Any particular reason why you were so late today, Mr. Fenton?"

I pulled on the strap from the Thermos, letting it settle back against my chest with a thump. "Keeping the party... in one piece." I smiled a bit and stuffed my hands into my pockets. "Thanks for the diploma, by the way."

"You're welcome, Danny." He shot me a curious look. "Not going to the party?"

"I wish," I muttered, but when his forehead wrinkled into a question, I just shot him a fake-feeling smile. "I have stuff to do. Aren't you going to go?"

"I've never been a fan of graduations," he admitted easily. "Too many people I've grown fond of I'll never get to see again."

"Aww..." I teased, poking his shoulder with a finger, "you're really a softie. You had me going for all these years."

He stopped his walk, turning to gaze at me blankly. Then he smiled and shook his head. "I'm going to miss you, Danny. You were one of the reasons I kept coming to work."

I shrugged and laughed. "I have this feeling I'm not going to get away from this place so easily. This school's a freaking magnet for ghosts."

"As long as your parents stay away," Mr. Lancer deadpanned.

I snorted. "Deal." I glanced up at his office door, then back at him. "I got to get going. Have a great summer, Mr. Lancer."

He reached out a hand and I grabbed it, actually shaking his hand this time. "You're not my student anymore," he said softly, "You can call me Will if you want."

"Will?" I shook my head. "It's too weird. You'll always be Mr. Lancer."

"Goodbye, Danny," he said.

I smiled at him and turned myself invisible, pushing myself into the air before twisting into Phantom. I was through the ceiling with little more than a thought and up into the air. I had no desire to face the wrath of the crowds of people again and, besides, I had a feeling I'd be seeing most of them again soon. We were a supernatural sort of class, after all.

The Fenton RV was easy to spot as it wound its way through the streets of Amity Park and I followed it, stretching my arms out and letting the wind whistle in my ears. Hours and hours of talking would happen once we got home, I was sure. But it would all end up for the best. Probably.

For now, I just let my mind wander. Graduation, my parents finding out, Lancer being nice...

It was the ending of an old life, that was for sure. But it was most definitely the beginning of a new one.