Alright last chappie. I know the last one was kind of a rip-off, but that's how it goes. X( Sorry! This is sorta just the ending of it, ya know? Not much, but an ending all the same. Sorta...an epilouge. A very short epilouge, er however the heck it's spelt.

Epilouge

Danny yawned wildly as he stumbled into class. He'd been up all last night fighting a gang of unruly biker-ghosts, each with a motorcycle that shot blasts of ectoplasmic energy which sucked the strength from whoever they hit; he'd finished them off, and sucked them into the Thermos, then sent them back to the Ghost Zone before trooping up to his room. As soon as his head hit the pillow, his alarm clock went off, and Fenton got up again, thinking the situation very ironic. His parents were sympathetic, and Jazz was even more so, but they insisted he go to school. He'd confronted Valerie, and told her himself, rather than have her find out the hard way at school; she'd taken it very well, saying simply, "I always thought there was a connection..." but she didn't want to hook back up with him for the same reason he didn't want to hook up with her: Sam. So he and Valerie were on friendly terms again, something that took a weight from his chest.

Now he slumped over in his desk, rings under his eyes, trying to stifle yet another yawn. The eyes of the whole class was on him, but he found he didn't care. "Rough night?" Sam asked sympathetically. Nodding, he buried his face in his arms and was prepared to go to sleep, when Mr. Lancer strode into the classroom with a stack of test booklets. Danny took one look at the papers and groaned; the dumb ghosts had taken away his study time. Tucker patted his back reassuringly.

Mr. Lancer cocked a brow, saying sharply, without looking up, "Whoever complained, I'll have you know that this is a very important test which will help decide the outcome of your ending marks for this quarter."

"Sorry, Mr. Lancer," Danny mumbled, glumly letting his chin drop to the desk, swallowing another yawn. Mr. Lancer glanced up at his student and the sharp expression on his face softened for a moment; then he said, all buisness, "Daniel, I assume you studied?"

Danny gulped. "Er, well, I was...That is, I--"

Mr. Lancer raised his eyebrow again.

Danny blushed hotly, remembering that he'd blown his ghost-half's identity three days ago; and of course no one forgot over the weekend. They had sense enough not to tell anyone else, but still, the damage was done. Danny opened his mouth to respond, when the window, and the wall surrounding it, suddenly burst into tiny bits, showering the class, who screamed and dove away.

In the midst of the wreckage stood a ghost; he wore black breeches and a white tunic, with a purple cape flowing elgantly behind him, holding a sword with a ruby encrusted hilt, that was glowing with a demonic, ectoplasmic energy.

Danny stood up at once, running to the front of the class, yelling, "Everybody get back!" They oblilged, but Sam and Tucker ran up to stand beside him, ghost-fighting partners and best friends to the end. "Who are you?" Sam asked, staring at his outfit. "And what's with the old-school wear?"

The ghost blinked. "I'll have you know," he scoffed, waving the sword slowly, threateningly, "that I am Sir Reginald Resfuih Scaerfe of--"

"Man do these guys blab?" Tucker whispered, purposely loud, behind his hand to Danny. "I mean no one can remember that stuff anyway!"

Sir Reginald Resfuih Scaerfe glared at them his sword's blue energy glowing brighter. "How dare you insult me, you impertant fools!" He swung the blade toward the defensless Sam and Tucker, but that was going too far:

"I'm goin' ghost!" Danny shouted. The two rings of light appeared around his waist, one traveling upward, turning his blue eyes an dangerous green and his jet black hair snow white, and his T-shirt part of a black jumpsuit with the wing DP on the chest; while the other went down, turning his jeans into the the bottom half of the black jumpsuit, feet concealed.

He leapt forward, knocking the sword away with a sheild of glowing green energy.

The class watched appreciatively, and several of the girls fanned themselves, giggling: Sam glared at them.

Sir Reginald wasn't the toughest opponent. He didn't know sword stances, and couldn't position the hilt in his hand comfortably enough to fight with it: while the ectoplasmic energy on it helped, it was no match for the halfa.

"See, why do you guys do this?" Danny said, accepting the Fenton Thermos from Dash, who'd been given it, by Sam, to hold, through another huge yawn. "I usually end up beating you, cuz if I didn't I would be either trapped in the Ghost Zone or dead, and that just gives you a bad rep, which makes people hate you, and me have to send you back to your world as a failure."

Sir Reginald shrugged. "It's kind of a challenge in the Zone. "Who can beat the halfa?"."

"Well, that's great," Phantom said dully, uncapping the Thermos. "Tell them to wait a day or two, okay? I'm tired." Reginald opened his mouth, but was sucked into the Thermos before he could voice whatever it was he was planning on saying.

Danny sighed, throwing the Thermos to Tucker, who caught it and stowed it away in his pocket. Then he trooped back to his desk, sat down, and promtly fell asleep.

Okay, all done. Thanks for reading this and you may voice your opinions in a review!