Hey friends! I know this has been done but I wanted to take a (hopefully) fresh and different crack at it.

AU where Danny was alone when the portal accident happened. You can assume pretty much everything in canon has already happened besides PP, except Danny went through the events alone.

Chapter One

x - x - x

Muted rays of light sifted through the crimson drapes covering the front windows and motes of dust swirled endlessly there, like little fireflies trapped in the beams. Sam reached down once more into the box balanced between her hip and the top rung of the ladder, placing the last latest edition of The Necronomicon in its place on the highest shelf.

The bell chimed, and Sam turned instinctively. But the front door was blocked by the shelves from this viewpoint, so she couldn't see the customer that stepped inside. "Welcome to Skulk and Lurk!" she called as cheerily as she could manage in her current mood. She was exhausted and wanted her shift to be over already. It was the first night she'd been scheduled to work alone though, so she wanted to be on her best behavior to prove she could be trusted.

No one answered.

Descending the ladder quickly, passing rows of candles and jewelry and books and assorted twisted figurines, she rounded the back corner to drop the empty box behind the cashier's desk. From there she peered down the aisle in front of her as the customer came into view. It was the first customer she'd had in an hour and a half. After all it was a Monday night, and it was after eleven. Only a half hour till close. The tall man's back was to her as he leaned in and scanned the titles lined on a mid-level shelf, scratching the back of his neck absently.

"Hey there," Sam offered, forcing herself to be friendly. What she really wanted was to go back to reading the book which was bookmarked on the desk next to her register. "Can I help you with…" her scripted greeting died in her throat as he turned around, one eye brow cocked, his hand still frozen on his neck.

"Sam?" he said, blinking. His eyes flitted back and forth nervously, like she'd caught him in the girl's locker room or something. "You uh… you work here now?"

"Yeah," she answered. "Four weeks now." What in the hell was he doing here?

"That's cool I guess," he said, flashing her a shy smile.

"Let me know if you need anything," she replied frigidly, snapping abruptly back into Customer Service Speak. She picked up her paperback from the desk, gluing her eyes to it. She didn't want to look at his face anymore. But the words swam around meaninglessly, and she read the same paragraph five times without processing a word of it before a small cough brought her back to reality. She glanced over the top of the book and Danny was standing there in front of her desk.

He bit his lip, like he was debating what to say. "I know you haven't worked here long but are you familiar enough with everything to help me find a specific book?"

She contemplated all the icy things she would like to say to him, before carefully squashing them. "What are you looking for?"

"A history of the hauntings in Amity. Any would do, really."

Sam pressed the broken stick of incense she'd been using as a pseudo-bookmark back into the pages, and circled around the desk, not waiting to see if he was following her down to the last aisle. "Nonfiction section," she said, pointing to the paper taped to the side of the shelf.

"Oh... Duh," he said with a chuckle.

Sam paused and crouched down to peer at the line of W authors. Warren… Westfall… Whittaker. "There are lots of different accounts, but I personally think this is the best one. It's got primary sources along with the research. Letters, journal entries, old articles, stuff like that."

He accepted the book and looked at the cover. A History of the Paranormal in Amity Park by Philip G. Whittaker. He flipped through, glancing at the varied entries. "This is perfect. Thanks, Sam."

He smiled at her again crookedly, but it didn't reach his tired eyes. She hated that. His smile looked sad and guilty, and he shouldn't get to feel like that.

She hadn't stood this close to him in god knew how long. She hadn't realized how much taller he'd gotten, now towering a whole head over her. Though she wasn't surprised, considering the monstrous size of Jack. His shoulders were broader than she remembered, his jaw more defined. Bags under his eyes. Dark dirt smudged almost like smoke on his cheekbone, on the side his neck. His black flyaway hair somehow more wild than ever. It was the same face she knew, the same voice, but the person in front of her was almost a stranger. "I'll just ring you up, then," she said, pushing past him back to the desk. "Unless you need anything else."

"Nope," he replied, following closely. "This is it."

She could feel his eyes on her as she scanned the book and threw it into one of the brown paper bags, the words Skulk and Lurk imprinted on the side in gothic black font. "Seventeen fifty," she told him, glancing at the screen of the register.

He dug his wallet out of his back pocket slowly, and sifted through papers and tickets and one dollar bills.

"What do you want that book for anyway?" she said before she could stop herself.

He paused in his search, looking up at her.

"It's just that you never used to come to this store," she said. Not to mention her deep suspicion that he had a pathological fear of ghosts. She definitely wasn't going to mention that.

He scratched his nose, pulled a crumpled twenty from the back of the wallet. "I dunno. Research, and stuff. For my parents," he added quickly.

"Right." Sam pressed the half shredded twenty onto the pile in the drawer, and gave him back his change.

"So.. how's Tucker?" Danny asked, opting to inspect the paper bag on the counter instead of looking at her.

Sam picked up her book, blocking his face from view again. "Why don't you ask him yourself?" she told him coldly. She heard him sigh but didn't look up until the bell chimed at the front door, just to check that he was really leaving. But his eyes met hers and he gave a small wave. "Bye Sam."

And he was gone.

. . . . .

"You wanna tell me what the heck is bothering you?" Tucker asked, setting his PDA down on the gray tabletop.

Sam looked up at him from her salad, which she'd been stabbing at with her fork without really taking any bites. "Nothing's wrong," she assured him.

Tucker folded his arms over his chest. "I've been talking about how this delicious burger is for like five minutes and you haven't said a single accusing statement."

She sighed. "Sorry, Tuck. I guess I'm just kind of out of it." Her gaze fell on the boy leaning against the far wall of the cafeteria, staring into space as he bit into a red apple. The students milling around the cafeteria arched around him as they passed, leaving a wide bubble of space between themselves and him. Sam glowered and stabbed into her salad once more.

Tucker followed her gaze to where Danny stood and then glanced back at Sam questioningly.

Sam rolled her eyes, huffing. "He came into the store last night."

"Oh. Really?"

"Yeah, really. He wanted a book on the history of Amity Park hauntings, can you believe that?"

"That's weird."

"You're telling me."

Tucker and Sam had a running theory (based on a wealth of evidence) that much of the change in Danny had to do with a paralyzing fear of the paranormal. So this was a little confusing, to say the least.

"He's just so different," Sam growled. "But he's still the same! It's infuriating, you know?"

"Did he talk to you?" Tucker asked softly, twirling his PDA around on the table.

"A bit. He had the nerve to ask how you were," she seethed.

"What did you say?"

"I told him to ask you himself." She stuffed a bit of dressing slathered lettuce into her mouth.

"Don't be so angry, Sam," he told her gently. "It's beyond our control, you know."

"Whatever," she snapped. "I'm over it."

Danny was leaving the cafeteria now, backpack slung lazily over one shoulder. The students parted warily as he walked through them.

. . . . .

Saturday night she got on her bike and started pedaling. She loved the way the winded rushed past her, the way the asphalt blurred beneath the tires. She must have ridden through every street in this city a thousand times over.

Her favorite place to ride was in the park though. Living in a city meant she couldn't get the daily dose of nature she craved, not without riding well beyond the city limits into the forest. So the park, littered with grass and trees, squirrels and rabbits and gophers, was the next best thing. Plus they had a kickass bike trail curving through it.

It must have been one in the morning, since she'd gotten home from work after midnight. There was no one in the park, save for one homeless man passed out on a blanket underneath a tall oak tree. Sam leaned her bike against the fountain when she paused to take a drink. She cursed herself for having forgotten the little spider backpack she usually brought which housed a water bottle.

She sputtered and nearly choked when she heard a huge crash behind her, like the paved bike trail had exploded.

She spun around and saw smoke rising, scattered debris, a small crater where a ghost was trying to sit up. It was one she'd seen many times, one of the more frequent attackers of Casper High. Skulker, Phantom called him.

Speaking of Phantom, the ghost flickered into view just as Skulker raised his mechanical left arm, a whining sound as it glowed blue with a pending attack. He raised a transparent shield that easily blocked Skulker's blast.

Sam stood frozen, backed against the stone drinking fountain. She could run, but Skulker was a mere twenty feet from her. She didn't want to draw attention to herself. Neither had noticed her yet. She cursed herself again for forgetting her backpack. Her only defense weapon was in there, a Fenton wrist ray she'd bought when they'd made them commercially available. On more than one occasion it had proved itself useful. Stupid, stupid, stupid! She knew she shouldn't be going out without it, especially during hours of high ghost activity.

Phantom easily dodged two more bright blasts that Skulker sent after him, and then froze his raised arm solid when it began to glow again. "Are we going to do this all night or do you wanna just get in my thermos now so I can get some sleep?" he drawled down lazily at the seething ghost.

"You should have more respect, whelp," Skulker growled as he launched himself sideways out of the way of the beam of blue light that erupted forward from the thermos in Phantom's hands. A Fenton thermos Sam knew, though no one knew how the ghost came by it, or why his was working and none of Jack and Maddie's ever came to full functionality. Phantom never stuck around long enough after his battles to answer questions like that.

"Skulker, I respect you about as much as I respect a rock in my shoe."

"A rock in your – I'm no small annoyance, insolent child. More like your worst nightmare!" Skulker yelled, unleashing wild blasts of light at Phantom, who seemed to dodge them with great ease.

Phantom just laughed, and between dodging he conjured up what looked like a giant ball of pure ice, and hurtled it at his opponent. It caught Skulker off guard, shattering into a thousand pieces on and into his metal chest. There was a strangled cry as the hulking ghost plummeted downward, towards her, and Sam lunged sideways wildly, smacking her shoulder and head into the ground with sickening force, and felt the weight of the ghost shake the earth as he smashed the stone fountain.

Her head spun and in her daze she thought there goes my bike.

"Hey!" She looked around. The grass wavered, a luminous face in front of her out of focus. "Hey, are you okay?" He pulled on her hand and she sat up willingly, shaking away the dizzies. "I didn't see you there," he told her, concern heavy in his voice.

The pile of smoking metal rustled and there was a mangled growl from somewhere within it.

"Hold on a moment," he said, and his hand left her arm. She watched him slam down feet first on what used to be Skulker's chest, dented beyond recognition, small sparks flying where he was impaled with ice. Phantom crouched down and tore Skulker's head from his shoulders without preamble, and Sam shuddered. A tiny voice, much higher in pitch, raged from within the iron head. "You won't get away with this! I'll be back! I always come-" Phantom had pulled the Thermos from where it hung from the white belt at his waist and fired it up. The grating voice turned to a shriek as a tiny green thing was sucked into the tractor beam, and the light died away with the voice.

In an instant Phantom's face loomed in front of her, and he was grabbing for her hand. "I'm so sorry," he breathed. His voice echoed softly, like it was coming in on a bad radio connection. All ghosts sounded something like that. "Did you hit your head? It looked like it…"

She was always taken aback by Phantom's demeanor, even though she knew to expect it. "I… I'm fine," she told him, allowing him to pull her to her feet. "Really," she added, when he continued gazing at her in alarm, unconvinced.

She brushed at the streaks of mud on her black jeans and her arms, hoping to god her parents were asleep when she got home. She didn't want to explain this. Speaking of home… She groaned when her eyes fell on the tangled mess of her bike. Half of it was sticking out from under Skulker's remains, and it was very clearly beyond hope of salvation.

"What?" Phantom asked quickly. "What's wrong?"

"It's just my bike," she groaned. "It's totally trashed!"

Phantom cringed as he spotted it. "God, I'm sorry. This is totally my fault."

Sam rolled her eyes. "It's not your fault. But now I'm stranded a billion miles from my house."

Phantom quirked an eyebrow at her. "I could uh.. I could give you a ride. If you want," he hastily added, looking away.

She had to admit, the idea of a ghost flying her home sounded both terrifying and exhilarating all at once. She found herself saying, "That'd actually be awesome."

He perked up, grinning at her. "Okay. Here, take my hand. It might feel a bit funny at first…" He peered at her as she pressed her hand into his tough white glove. "Are you scared?" he asked.

She scoffed. "Uh no. It's not as if I've never done it... you've saved me a couple times before you know."

He chuckled. "Yeah, I know. This is different than being carried though."

As he said it, a tingling sensation spread from her hand through her arm, settling like frost into her body. Gravity vanished without warning, and her feet bobbed up from the grass. A wave of butterflies shot through her. "Woah," she whispered, and she drifted toward him as he tugged her arm gently upward, like a wayward balloon on a string. "Yeah this is really different. How are you doing this?"

"I can extend my flight to someone as easily as I can make them intangible. Pretty cool, huh?"

"Way cool," she agreed.

Phantom began flying toward the end of the park, with Sam drifting numbly next to him, focusing on the feel of the cool night wind in her hair. What would happen if he were to let her go? She smothered that train of thought immediately. "You probably want directions," she stated.

His head twitched around toward her. "Oh.. yeah. Directions. Show me the way, oh damsel in distress!"

"If you call me that again you can drop me off at the next corner," she said dryly, but the ghost just laughed.

While the bike ride had taken fifteen minutes, the flight home took less than three.

"That's my window there," Sam told him, pointing to the dark glass in the upper right corner of her house. She shuddered involuntarily as a wash of cold overtook her, and they phased directly through the brick wall into her bedroom. The tingling cool feeling lifted abruptly when they touched down on her carpet and Phantom dropped her hand.

"Thanks for the lift," she said genuinely.

"No big deal. I really am sorry about your bike," he muttered, running a hand through his ruffled white hair.

"Eh, whatever. I got my paycheck yesterday so I'll just get a better one. I was planning on it soon anyway."

"That's good I guess. And are you sure you're alright? It looked like you hit your head pretty hard." He chuckled to himself. "Plus, there are leaves in your hair still."

Sam flushed, sifting her hands through her hair and feeling several crunchy leaves snagged in there. "I'm really fine," she assured him. "My head just hurts a bit."

"Alright." He ran his hand through his hair again, almost like he was nervous. "I'll be going, I guess."

"Wait a sec."

He paused, one leg having already stepped through her outer wall.

She let her handful of leaves drift to the floor. "I uh.. I'm Sam," she said, lamely.

He looked at her blankly. His green eyes glowed like neon Vegas lights.

"I just wanted to introduce myself," she continued, not sure why she was still talking at all. She told herself to shut up, but she didn't. "I mean, I've met you a few times before. I know your name, so I thought you should know mine." She felt her cheeks grow red despite herself, feeling exceedingly dumb.

He smiled and floated over, extending his hand. "Well it's nice to meet you for real then, Sam." He cocked his head, peering at her oddly as she shook his hand. "You're really not afraid of me at all, are you?"

"No. Why, should I be?" she joked.

"Nah, it's just that most people are."

"Most people are pretty stupid," she replied honestly, "so I wouldn't take it personally."

"I try not to," he snickered. "You know, you're the first person that's introduced themselves to me like that."

"What can I say? I'm friendly," she said, shrugging.

"A friendly goth?" he said with fake shock. "That's pretty unbelievable."

"So's a friendly ghost," she countered, resting one hand on her hip. "Can I ask you a question?"

"Uh.. depends on the question." He drifted lazily backwards, folding his arms behind his head.

"How come you don't use your hero voice on me?"

He scratched his nose ponderously. "Uh.. hero voice?"

"I see you around all the time you know. Whenever you're talking to citizens you throw on this tough guy voice. 'Don't be afraid, citizen!'" she mocked while wagging her finger, mimicking the way he deepens his tone. "But you don't do that when you're shouting at ghosts, and you've definitely never talked to me like that."

He shrugged. "I dunno. I guess I'm just trying to make them less afraid, by pretending to know what I'm doing."

"You don't bother to use the voice with me," she reminded him.

He simply shrugged again, looking away toward the window. "I have to get going, Sam."

"Where do you go when you're not battling ghosts?"

He peered over his shoulder at her. "What is this, the Spanish Inquisition?" he said dryly. She was about to apologize when he said, "Just around. Around Amity, making sure it's safe."

"Don't you ever get bored of being Amity's guard dog?"

"Like you wouldn't believe," he said, with over-exaggerated grimness.

She laughed. "Well you know, if you ever get super bored you could always visit me. I get bored a lot too." Lonely, bored. What was the difference?

The corners of his mouth twitched downward. "I want to take you up on that, but it's a bad idea."

"Why?"

"I.. I have a lot of enemies. I can't really afford to make friends with people."

"We don't have to be friends," she suggested. "But if you ever wanted to stop by we could be friendly acquaintances."

His frown weakened. "I'll think about it."

"One more question," she added abruptly as he floated toward her wall again. "Earlier when I said you'd saved me before, you said 'I know.' Does that mean you remember me? Saving me, I mean?"

His eyebrows scrunched a bit. "How could I forget something like that?" he said quietly. And before she could reply he had vanished through her wall, and she was alone in the dim room.