AN: I know, you all must think I'm crazy, right? But here we have a new story, and it's one of four I'm planning on writing. This is just the introductory chapter, and not too much happens. I was going to add more to it, but I decided that this would extend the chapter too much, and I didn't want to do that.

As for the story itself, ah, there's an interesting story. This story is actually based off an idea for an RP that I had with Amai/ Sammy/ ChibiSamiSala. We played it out for quite some time, but it eventually died. I, however, adored the idea of Danny being split in two, and seeing as how I was playing both of them anyways, I decided to take the plotline and change it (with permission, of course). And this is the result. The plot setup is largely different from the one of the original RP, though there certainly are similarities. But I'm sure all of you have had enough of this author's note and just want to get on with the story right? Heh, I'll go on about the similarities and differences in other author's notes. Happy readings! Please leave reviews, they make me happy inside. And slightly squishy.

Danny Phantom does not belong to me, it belongs to Butch Hartman, and I am not making any money off of this. What your uncle Bob told you was a lie, you should know by now that Uncle Bob's a liar.

(LINE BREAK)

Two of a Kind

Chapter One: The Beginning

"Well, Tucker, what do you think?"

Seventeen-year old Tucker Foley glanced up from the game he was playing on his GBA-converted PBA, blinking rapidly as his eye fell upon the girl in front of him. She was his childhood friend, Samantha Manson, though if you tried to call her Samantha, you'd probably wind up learning quite intimately what her fist was like. It was Sam, or nothing else.

And currently, Sam was dressed in an outfit that he had never imagined to see her in. The Goth girl had unique tastes in clothing, he knew, but this one... this one really took the cake and furthermore impaled that cake through the sharpest stake she could find.

She was dressed in a black tank top, it's left sleeve lowered so that it bared her shoulder, revealing a cloth wrap of fishnet that she had tied underneath it. The shirt's sleeves, as well as it's hemming, were torn. She wore a silver chain belt, with several more chains dangling from a pair of black and violet camo-styled cargo pants, her usual pair of black combat boots finishing off the outfit. Her hair, normally pulled up by a violet hair tie, was now held with a black scrunchie, that fanned outwards and reminded him vaguely of a lotus flower.

Tucker blinked a few more times, before clearing his throat. "Well, uh, Sam... it's... very... unique. I don't think I've seen an outfit quite like it..."

The raven-haired girl grinned. "That's pretty much the whole point." Teasingly, she stuck her tongue out at him. "At least I'll stand out more than you do." Her violet eyes fell on her friends outfit of choice-a plain yellow long-sleeved shirt, jade green military vest, and matching jade green cargo pants. She had just barely managed to convince him to exchange his glasses for a visor, and she couldn't seem to get him to remove his red beret.

"Hey, I like my look." Tucker shot back, sending a glare at his friend.

Sam laughed. "Oh, I know. I'm just saying that we're going to clash, is all." She grinned and flopped down beside him on the couch he was sitting on. "So, with you on drum, and me on vocals, that leaves us needing someone who can play the guitar, right?"

Tucker nodded. "Remind me again though why exactly we're staring a band?"

"Because we can, and because the majority of the music that you hear today is pre-packaged corporate garbage." Sam said pointedly, one of her fingers wagging in front of his face as if she was somebody's lecturing mother.

"Right, right, I forgot we were doing it for your agenda." Tucker grinned, leaning backwards on the couch and yawning slightly. "So, how do we plan on getting said guitarist?" He cracked an eye open, glancing over at his longtime friend... and then wished that he hadn't. She had one of those looks on her face.

"Open tryouts."

(-LINE BREAK-)

Two rather grueling days went by, as Sam and Tucker begin their search for the guitarist. They had put up filers all over the school, as well as in the Nasty Burger, and their favorite hangouts-Sam's gothic bookstore, and Tucker's favorite Internet cafe. And once all of that was over, the tryouts themselves had begun.

Not much to their surprise, the turnout was very, very low. In all, there were about ten people, not including the one who had gotten Tucker's address mixed up with one for the International Potato Convention... whatever that was about. Sam and Tucker made a point not to ask.

Now that they were all over, Sam groaned, slumping back on the couch, one of her hands covering her face. She let out a deep sigh and slowly slid it off, staring up at Tucker, who was still filing through some sheets and frowning deeply. "You'd think..." she began, her voice showing her deep irritation. "...that out of ten people, we'd be able to find someone who could play the guitar decently."

"You'd think." Tucker frowned, tossing the stack of papers over his shoulder and into the trash bin behind him. "But either we're not that lucky, or Amity Park is seriously lacking in talent."

"Or both."

"Or both." Tucker nodded, leaning back slightly in his chair.

Sam sighed, pulling herself up from the couch, looking over at the clock on his bedside table. "It's getting late, Tuck, and if I'm not home by nine, my parents are going to freak out. And you know how they are when they get like that." The raven-haired girl frowned.

"Yeah, I know. See you at school?" He asked. Today was a Sunday, which meant they would be going back to school. They were both seniors, finishing up their final year in high school.

"Yeah. See you in school."

(-LINE BREAK-)

Mr. Lancer stood in front of his classroom, watching a few stray students drift in after the bell. On any other day, he might assign them detention and lock them out, but today, he would forgive them, for he wanted them all in class at the moment. Today, he was going to introduce a new student, which was quite unusual, seeing as they were already six weeks into instruction. In all honesty, he had a few concerns about the student they had recently accepted into Casper High... but he would wait to see if those concerns were well-founded before he made any judgement.

"Class." The overweight teacher cleared his throat. "We have a transfer student arriving today, and he'll be joining us for the rest of our school year." Well, transfer student was putting it lightly-rather, this student had been expelled from his previous school, for a rather nasty fight that had occurred on the campus. It was one of the reasons the teacher had some misgivings about this student.

The other was the fact that he hadn't even arrived yet.

"However... He doesn't seem to be quite inclined to join us yet." The teacher finished, looking around the room to largely disappointed or disinterested looks. He had a rather diverse student body-from the cheerleader, Paulina Sanchez, to the Goth, Samantha Manson, and the football hero, Dash Baxter, to the techno geek, Tucker Foley, he had just about one of every kind of student in his class. And now he was apparently adding delinquent to that list.

The balding man mentally chided himself then, reminding himself that he would have to meet this student before passing any judgement. Really, it was a miracle that he was accepted into Casper in the first place though. And most likely, the student would have not been if his parents hadn't come in to speak with Principal Ishiyama personally. Apparently, something about a condition.

"Late, aren't I?"

Mr. Lancer's attention was drawn from his thoughts at the arrival of the student, and he nearly had to do a double take. He wasn't sure what he expected to look like... but white hair on a teenager was hardly something one saw, even more so that this particular teen had his hair held in a rather long braid. He looked over the teacher with disinterested green eyes, the two orbs nearly blazing, and strangely dead looking, shadowed by what looked to be heavy black eye makeup.

The older man couldn't help but frown as he looked over his clothing. A black fishnet top that started so low that it fully exposed his shoulders covered a black tank top. He wore a pair of black bondage pants, the belts that latched the two sides of his pants together not seeming to impede his movements at all. He wore fingerless black gloves, with a pair of belted black punk bracelets, and a pair of black combat boots. It looked as if Miss Manson would no longer be the only Goth in the class...

The Goth girl, as it were, had looked up now, interested for once in the new student, her eyes taking in the whole of him. Quietly, she leaned over to Tucker, nudging him and whispering, "Tucker... hey look."

The techno geek peered up from his PDA game once more, cocking an eyebrow at the new student. Normally he didn't pay attention to them unless they were the attractive female variety, but even he had to admit that this one definitely deserved some attention. He whispered to Sam. "Looks like you're not the only Goth it Casper anymore."

"I never was, shush." Sam lightly chided her friend, though she continued to look at the new student. He certainly was interesting looking. She wondered exactly how he had gotten his hair to that pure white color-she hadn't known that one could bleach enough so that it could get to that color. She had certainly never seen it before-it was even whiter than her grandmother's hair.

"Yes, thank you for joining us Mr. Fenton, as late as you are." Mr. Lancer frowned. "Might I inquire as to why you were late?"

"You might, but you won't get an answer, if that's what you want." The white-haired teen replied rather bluntly.

Mr. Lancer gave the teen a disapproving frown. So far all of his suspicions were turning out to be rather well-founded. "There's an empty seat behind Miss Manson, I suggest you take it so that we may begin with our class." The balding teacher motioned to the seat behind Sam.

The raven-haired girl blinked and looked behind her, then back up at the two. She had forgotten that she sat in front of the only empty seat in the classroom. She kept her eyes fixed on the white-haired boy as he wordlessly took his seat behind her. She turned around a bit, whispering. "Um... hi. I'm Sam Manson."

"Danny Fenton." The teen said rather boredly, leaning back in his seat, his head against the wall, closing his eyes. It was obvious that he didn't want to speak, so Sam merely gave a slight frown and turned back around.

Tucker eyed her from his seat, and she sent him a dirty look. The African-American teen merely grinned, looking away from his friend, resuming the game that he was playing on his PDA. No doubt that Sam would attempt to learn a few things about this white-haired teen, Danny Fenton, he had said he was. Sam was always interested in interesting things and people, and this was sure to be no exception.

Class continued on then, the thing that was different from the normal routine were the occasional glances the students in front of them sent back to the white-haired teenager in the back. Sam found herself glancing over her shoulder from time to time, curious about what he was doing, and found that he appeared to have fallen asleep.

Class was halfway over before they were interrupted, a petite woman with firey red hair and aqua eyes stepping into the classroom with an apologetic look. She whispered something to Mr. Lancer, who nodded, and the red-head made her way over to the new student, nudging him lightly on the shoulder.

Danny's bright green eyes snapped open and he jolted upright, seemingly relaxing upon seeing the woman in front of him. She whispered something to him, and Sam, who was closest to him could catch a few words of it-namely the words meeting, and condition. The raven-haired girl found her eyebrow arching in interest as the white-haired boy frowned, but got up without a word and left with the girl.

"Strange..." She found herself mumbling, watching them leave. Very strange indeed.

(-LINE BREAK-)

The school day flew past, and Sam saw that Danny seemed to be in none of her other classes. Or at least, she thought he wasn't-after that woman had come to get him, she hadn't seen him in the building again. She wondered if perhaps he was still in a meeting, or he had skipped school. Not that Sam could entirely condemn him if the latter was the case-she had done it quite a few times herself.

Her suspicions were confirmed by Mr. Lancer later that afternoon.

The bald teacher approached her, a stack of papers in his hands, and a deep frown on his face. "Miss Manson, I would hate to be a burden on you, but could you do me a favor?"

Sam blinked. "Well, I guess that would depend on the favor. What do you want me to do?"

Mr. Lancer heaved a sigh and pulled out a scrap of paper with an address scribbled on it. Sam realized the street name as being one near where she lived. "I want you to take these papers to this address, and give them to the Fentons." The teacher sighed again. "I'd do it myself, but we're having a faculty meeting tonight, and as vice principal I can hardly afford to miss it."

"The Fentons..." Sam blinked, trying to think of why the name sounded familiar. She was sure that she had never heard it before-ah! No, she had, but only just today. Danny Fenton, he had said his name was. Mr. Lancer must have been referring to his parents. "Oh, you mean, for the new student?"

"Yes. It seemed that something was said during a meeting between Principal Ishiyama and his parents..." The older man sighed, rubbing his forehead, recalling the Asain woman's rather detailed account of the violent outburst that the white-haired student had had. Not even a full day in school, and it seemed that he already wanted to cause problems. "...and he didn't take it very well. He stormed out."

"I see..." Sam mumbled, half to herself, and half to the teacher. She got from his expression and overall body language that there was a bit more to this tale than just an outburst, but it wasn't her place to pry. She quietly took the papers from Mr. Lancer with a smile. "I'll drop these off by his house on my way home."

"Thank you, Miss Manson. I really am grateful for this." Mr. Lancer gratefully relinquished his burden to her.

Sam cast a smile at him and mummered a goodbye, before she left, carefully holding the papers so that she didn't drop any. It was a good sized stack, and she guessed the majority of it was review material.

She made her way out of the school building. Normally she would have walked home with Tucker, but the techno lover was currently busy at his part time job. Sam thought it was amazing that he had actually gotten one, much less kept it for the past five months. Then again, if she was the manager of that Internet cafe, she wouldn't be too keen on letting him go either-if there was one thing Tucker could do, it was handle technical problems.

She walked at a fairly good pace, making sure to pause at every street corner to check the names of the streets she was walking down. She had gotten so used to walking home now, that she didn't even need to look at them to know where she was going. She knew by sight the route she was supposed to take, and could probably walk it blindfolded if it was ever necessary.

For all her careful checking of street names, she almost walked straight past the street the Fenton's home was located on. Cursing mildly under her breath, she turned around and headed back down the street, balancing the papers on one arm as she tugged the address for the house out of the pocket of her black cargo pants. She kept a close eye out for the house, making sure not to almost miss it like she had almost missed the street.

And found that she wouldn't have been able to miss this house if she tried.

"There?" She found herself staring at the house, with her mouth hanging wide open. She almost laughed, out of both surprise and the realization of something else-no wonder Fenton sounded like she had heard it from more than just Danny's introduction of himself!

The Fentons were ghost-hunters. That's not normally something you would think someone would devote their entire lives too, but indeed they had. There was even a giant neon sign outside of their house reading 'FENTON WORKS' as well as a generally strange looking metallic structure on their roof.

"Well," Sam began, grinning to herself. "This should be quite interesting." Once again, she shifted the weight of the papers in her hand, ringing the doorbell. Hearing the clamor that the sound aroused inside, her grin only grew wider. "Very interesting."

(-LINE BREAK-)

If you're curious about my other three stories, see the DA journal entires about them! And please, leave feedback! I really, really appreciate that if you would. It means a lot to me. (Take out the spaces in the links, btw)

Raison D'Etre - bekuki. / journal/ 9979332 /

Moonlit Bane- bekuki. deviantart. com / journal / 9808263 /

Devil Child- bekuki. deviantart. com / journal / 9694508 /