AN: This is something that I've been working on for awhile now. Those of you who have been with me from the beginning will recall pieces of this, as well as the name from an earlier story, called Graveyard Shift. This, is the new an improved version, which I have thankfully brought out of that horrid first person perspective! Overall, I'm pretty pleased with this chapter. I was going to update either Reincarnation or Blood of the Phantom next, but I really got in the mood to write this and I figured that I might as well take it.

As always, Danny Phantom belongs to Butch Hartman. Read and do leave reviews please! I like them very much.

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Graveyard Shift Redux

Chapter One: Phantom

Death was a funny thing.

The white haired teenager couldn't help but think that as he stretched out on the rooftop of Casper High, his bright green eyes closed against the blazing light of the sun. His sensitive ears twitched, catching the noises of the students in the classroom directly below him. He could tell that it was Mr. Lancer's class, and he wondered which poor freshman had now become the victim of overweight literature teacher's lecture.

He yawned, though he wasn't really tired. He hadn't been capable of sleeping-not in the human manner, at least, for at least three years now.

Had it really been just three years? For him, it seemed as if he had been dead for far longer.

Death.

It almost seemed strange to him now. To be honest, he didn't really feel dead, yet he was reminded of the fact all the time. The differences between him and those still living were all too apparent, and yet just on a physical basis, one wouldn't notice it right away.

Maybe it had to do with the fact that he had changed as well. Being dead didn't bother him as much as it once had, when he was still adjusting to the change. At first, he had been terrified of himself, frightened of what was happening to him, and what he might have the potential to do. At first he wondered how long it would be before he became like one of those malicious ghosts his parents had kept on warning him about when he was still alive, like one of those horrible creatures that he fought on an almost daily basis.

But that was then, and this was now. Things had changed.

There was almost no one left that called him by the name that he was born with now. Danny Fenton, or rather, Daniel Fenton. It was only Tucker that still called him that, that still thought of him as that. He was the only one who still saw the ghost as the raven-haired, blue-eyed boy that had passed away in a tragic accident three years ago.

Everyone else knew him as Phantom. He was a ghost, but a very complicated one. No one could quite figure him out. He was at once similar to the other ghosts, but at the same time different. He both protected and destroyed, though the former happened more often. Everyone knew he had a vicious temper, however, and that he wasn't very conscious of all the property damage that he caused.

Somewhere along the way, even he had stopped thinking of himself as Danny Fenton. He was Phantom now, the strange white-haired ghost that seemed to be the only one to actually still reside in Amity Park.

He closed his eyes once more, as he continued to rest on the school roof. He wasn't sleeping, exactly, for ghosts couldn't really sleep. He had, however, taken to simply closing his eyes and putting himself in the action of sleeping. It helped pass the time.

He heard the faint sound of the final school bell ringing underneath him, and he sat up, stretching a bit. His white hair, which hung in a short ponytail, having grown still from the time of his death, was disheveled, and he muttered in annoyance as he tried to straighten it out.

Once he finished, he stood all the way up-or rather, he floated just off the school roof. He floated towards the edge of it, crouching down on the ledge. His green eyes scanned the crowd of students leaving the building, willing his presence to go unnoticed by all but one of them. "Come on Tucker... where..."

His words came to a stop, as they fell on raven-colored hair. If his heart could still beat, it would have started pounding, as he watched a violet-eyed Goth beauty walk out of the building, clutching one of her text books.

He crouched, frozen at the sight of her, his bright green eyes unable to tear away from her. Every muscle in his body was screaming at him to move, to go, to take her... But his mind combated them, shoving them aside so that the body couldn't do anything but watch her leave the school. His eyes followed her for as long as they could, and once again, he had to resist the temptation to go after her once she disappeared around a street corner.

And that was how his best friend, in both life and now death, found him. He had long since grown accustomed to his friend's routine of finding him after school, and he always knew where to find the ghost boy. He frowned a bit, seeing his friend frozen in place. He followed his gaze, catching a glimpse of the raven-haired girl before she walked around the street corner.

He let out a sigh. That girl was no stranger to either of them, no wonderful beauty that would freeze any man nearby. She was Samantha, or Sam, Manson, the daughter of the richest people in the city. She was also their best friend. His gaze dropped to his friend. Or, she had been his when he was still alive. Now he wouldn't let himself talk to her, and Tucker knew the good reason why he tried to do everything to avoid her.

Ghosts were obsessive by nature, and Danny had been no exception. It was actually Tucker who realized this fact first. When the ghost boy had learned that his friend had moved away after his death... he was caught between anger and a deep, dark sadness. Both of which seemed like they would consume him at any given minute.

Tucker had managed to keep either from taking his friend over, and eventually the two had managed to settle into a somewhat normal routine. But still, every so often, Tucker saw that longing rear up again. Danny tried to hide it everytime the dark-skinned teenager had noticed it, but it was to no avail.

Tucker wasn't honestly sure who found dealing with Danny's altered nature more difficult-him, or Danny. Tucker wasn't a fool, in fact, he was far from it. He knew that there were times this didn't bother Danny, though there were also most definitely times when it did.

When she had moved back a year later, coming home from the boarding school that her parents had thought would be a good idea to send her off to, the usual routine of Danny and Tucker's lives (or afterlives, in Danny's case), had been broken. It had been difficult for the ghost boy to resist her then, and he had wanted to immediately go after her to tell her everything. He wanted to make her his, wanted to be with her. He wanted her to never leave him again.

But he had managed to resist. Some part of him, still, knew that it wouldn't be right. And some part of him was almost... ashamed of what had happened to him. It was his bits and pieces of humanity telling him this, those fragments which he desperately clung to, never wanting to become like those ghosts the frequently plagued the city. He never wanted to be like them.

"Sam again, Danny?" He asked, breaking the ghost boy from his thought. He could have almost laughed as he surprised the teenager so badly, that he nearly fell off the building, quickly whipping around to face him. His cheeks were tinted a faint red color, embarrassed that Tucker had caught him watching her.

"Tucker! I didn't see you there..." He laughed nervously. "Why are you here, and not down there?" He pointed to the stream of students that was coming out of the building still.

"I figured you'd be waiting for me up here." Tucker grinned a bit at his friend, teasing him. "You're starting to be a little predictable."

"Predictable?" A mock look of hurt and offense crossed the ghost's face, but he was unable to keep it there for long. A grin soon shattered it, as Phantom shook his head, standing up straight, before hovering outright off of the rooftop.

"Show off." Tucker stuck out his tongue at the ghost, to which his old friend merely rolled his eyes.

"Oh, shut up. Being a ghost's not exactly a walk in the park you know." He retorted.

"Funny you should use that expression, seeing as you barely do any actual walking anymore." Tucker observed, smiling at his friend.

It was true though. Tucker had noticed that Danny was far more comfortable with using his ghostly abilities than he had been when he had first become one three years ago. Whereas Danny then had made an effort to stay on the ground and move around like he had as a human before, he now seemed to be perfectly content with floating or flying everywhere, walking through walls, and occasionally even walking on the walls.

While that in and of itself wasn't so disturbing, all of it could merely be explained off as Danny simply becoming more and more used to his strange new powers, there were other things that Tucker had noticed as well. His growing obsession with Sam, of course was one. It was, after all, difficult to miss the fact that Danny kept a small collection of assorted objects that he had stolen from his room. Not to mention the ghost boy had talked to him about it.

Even that, Tucker could manage. In all honesty, he could manage anything that came his way. Danny might have died and he might have become a ghost. He might be changing, and at times he might act extremely different from how he always had in the past, but... he was his best friend. In the three years since his death, nothing had changed that. And considering that those times had not always been easy ones, he was certain that it would last.

Certain.

---

Sam shifted her messenger bag in her arms, muttering in annoyance as she fiddled with the damaged clasp. Her violet eyes looked down at it, her eyebrows knitting in annoyance. "I can't believe it..." She groaned. "I only bought this two weeks ago, and it's already broken. Doesn't anyone pay attention to quality when they make things anymore?"

She shifted the bag again. She would just have to try and fix it- she didn't intend to buy another one so soon. It wasn't a question of money, of course. She had plenty of it. However, she didn't want to become one of those rich, spoiled, privileged upper class children who thought that they could buy anything they wanted, even when they didn't really need anything, just because they had the money. Or rather, because their parents had the money.

That was part of the reason that she had gotten a job. Smiling to herself as she came to a stop, she stared up at the iron gates of the city cemetery. She had seen the ad in the paper a week ago. The gravekeeper here was looking for someone to help. And what would be more interesting than having a job at the cemetery?

She shifted the bag in her arms again, moving it so that she could hold it in only one, and she pushed the gate open. The gate squeaked and crashed behind her when she shut, and she took a pause to look around.

The Amity Park Cemetery looked normal enough. But then again, this was the daytime, and this was Amity Park. Once the sun went down, the ghosts started to show up. Amity Park hadn't been declared one of the most haunted places in the United States for no reason. At night, ghosts were almost everywhere. They rarely showed up in the daytime... all, except for one, that is.

Phantom. Well, no one honestly knew what his name was. They had just started calling him that. He was the strangest ghostly resident of Amity Park. He wasn't like the other ghosts at all. He was always seen protecting the city from ghosts who desired to do it and it's citizens harm. He was a hero.

Yet at the same time, he was the most infamous ghost in Amity Park. Two years had gone by since it happened... but it was difficult to forget a ghost destroying an entire city block, and killing at least twenty people. No one knew what had happened that day. But Phantom lost a lot of the trust that he had gained in the first year of his afterlife.

And Sam had always wanted to meet him. She had plenty of encounters with other ghosts... and yet it seemed that she could just never get to speak with Phantom. She barely even managed to catch glimpses of him. For some reason, she almost felt like he was avoiding her.

Of course, that was just ridiculous. Phantom didn't even know her, so it made no sense for the ghost boy to try to avoid her. Chances were, the whole thing was in her head.

But still...

"Come on Sam." She sighed, shaking her head again. "Focus on more important things than ghosts." She smiled again, a little sadly this time as she reached into the external pocket of her bag, pulling out a handful of flowers. She carefully made her way through the graves, cautious not to tread over any of them. She wasn't exactly superstitious, but she knew that if she had died, she sure wouldn't like some young kid strolling all over her grave.

She finally kneeled down in front of one, that sad smile still on her lips. "Hey." She whispered softly, carefully placing the flowers into a little cup placed in the grave. "How are you doing today?" She asked, carefully reaching out to touch the stone etching on the grave. "Danny..."

It was hard for her to believe that he was gone. He had been so young... only fourteen. Three years had passed since then, since he had gotten caught up in that awful experiment of his parents and...

No, she stopped herself there. It still hurt to remember. It was, after all, all her fault. "I'm sorry." She whispered again, standing up, and forcing back a tear that had made it's way out. She gave another sad smile, waving a little bit at the grave, before she turned and headed towards the keeper's house.

"Mr. Hansaw?" She knocked on the door, calling out the keeper's name. "Are you home? I'm here." She could hear a loud crash from inside the door, and gave a slight sigh, knowing that the man must have tripped over something again. Sure enough, when the brown haired man opened the door, there was a bruise already forming on his forehead.

"Sammie!" He raised his hand in greeting, laughing a little as he straightened his crooked glasses. He has dark blue eyes and was about in his thirties. He kept his hair tied back into a thin ponytail and usually wore casual clothing. "What's up? Is school over already?"

She nodded as he let her into the small house, setting down her messenger bag on the table. "Yeah. You should really buy a clock or a watch, you know." She told him, leaning back against the table and tilting her head a bit. "Even a cell phone would be fine."

The man laughed a little at her suggestion. "Ah, I do just fine without one. I like my life better when I don't have to live it worrying about time."

"You live on a higher level than the rest of us, Mr. Hansaw." Sam told him with an arched eyebrow.

He laughed again. "I'm not sure if that's supposed to be a compliment or not, Sam, but I'm going to take it as one." He grinned and grabbed his keys. "I'm going to run to the grocery store then. You're in charge until I get back." Sam nodded at him and he tucked his keys into his pockets, leaving the small house.

Sam heaved a sigh as she watched him go, her stomach grumbling a bit. "I hope he still has at least something left in here.." She mumbled to herself as she stood up and opened his fridge doors with a frown. After a bit of looking, she found an apple and took it, giving it a quick wash before she bit into it. She strolled over towards the window then and opened up the blinds, gazing out onto the graveyard beyond.

To be honest, Sam was surprised to find that the gravekeeper actually kept a place here. She had wondered what this house was when she had first spotted it, but her mind had been on other things at the time, and so she had quickly forgotten about it. Mr. Hansaw did seem the kind to keep his house here though. As well as being extremely clumsy, the man was also rather eccentric. His hobby, after all, was to collect skulls and old news clippings about serial killers. Still, he was a fairly good natured man and it was rather difficult for her not to like him.

She smiled a little, shaking her head as she sat back on the couch and pulled out her homework. "Let's see... I have to do two pages in Algebra..."

---

Sam let out a small yawn, reaching into her bag and pulling out a black cellphone, which she flipped open, reading the time. 9:30. She closed it then and looked over towards Mr. Hansaw, who was putting away the dinner plates. "I'm going to make my final rounds." She told him, grabbing her messenger bag and pulling it over her shoulder. She had fixed the broken strap with duct tape, so it would hold for now.

"Ah, okay." He grinned at her, waving. "See you tomorrow."

Sam waved back and grabbed a flashlight from the front desk and headed out into the now dark cemetery. It was closed at this time of night. It used to remain open until at least ten, but after the ghosts came, the graveyard was one of the last places anyone wanted to be at night. And so it was closed at eight, these days.

It seemed kind of silly to her. She'd worked her for at least three months now and she'd never even seen a ghost hanging around here. Not to mention that closing the graveyard earlier would do nothing to stop the flow of ghosts coming into Amity Park. It wasn't like they had anything around it to keep the ghosts from escaping.

It was a piece of irony that the only real ghost hunters around had moved away three years ago. A small frown appeared on her face as she remembered how the Fenton family had moved from Amity, just a few weeks after their son had died. She didn't blame them, really. If she were in their shoes, she might have done the same thing.

She shook off those thoughts though and continued on with her rounds, only to pause when she thought she heard someone's voice. Frowning, she clicked off her flashlight and listened, wondering if it was just the wind she had heard. But no, there it was again, a faint snatch of a man's voice.

Sam's eyes narrowed, wondering who had sneaked into the graveyard this late at night. They surely couldn't be up to any good. Letting her eyes adjust to the darkness, she quietly crept through the cemetery, mumbling wordless apologies to the owner's of the graves she crept over.

She spotted the intruder soon enough and quickly knelt down, hiding behind a gravestone. She peered out then, looking at his back and quickly, her angry look turned into a surprised one. It wasn't a human man there at all, but a ghostly teenager. Spotting the ghosts' white hair and the black cape that hung from his belts, she quickly concluded that it was Phantom.

He was relaxing on one of the gravestones, as it was, his eyes slightly closed as he listened to an Mp3 player that he had gotten from who knows where. The voice she had caught earlier was him occasionally singing along with the lyrics of the song he was listening too.

Now curious, Sam began to creep closer, marveling at how close she was to Amity Park's most infamous ghost without him even knowing it.

Which of course, didn't last, as she stubbed her toe against a gravestone, an involuntary yelp escaping from her lips.

Phantom caught it and got to his feet, quickly whirling around and tearing off the headphones, his bright green eyes quickly meeting with her stunned violet.

"Oh." Sam laughed a little nervously. "Hi there, Phantom."