Danny's Story, Part 1:


Disclaimer: I do not own Danny Phantom. Scenes from "Bitter Reunions" belong to Butch Hartman, Nickelodeon and company.

AN: This story contains graphic rape scenes in future chapters. Rated for explicit sex scenes, rape, slash, and language.

Chapter One: Mystery

It was Friday, November 26, 2004 and I was a hundred miles from home. My parents received an invitation to their college reunion and decided our entire family should attend the event. I had attempted everything in my power to prevent the trip but my parents had been adamant. We were staying with an old college pal of my parents named Vlad Masters. The man was legendary in our corner of the country and probably known throughout the world for his incredible wealth but there was something not quite right about him to me.

Everything had been going smoothly in the three days we had been staying with the billionaire even if things had been a little creepy. The man was supposedly closest to my father; however, what I had observed was his obsession with being alone with my mother. With my experience with my gut, I never left the man alone with my mother; I was always within earshot. In the three months that I've had my powers, I've come to trust my gut. (Okay, it has only been two months, four weeks and two days or 91 days; but who's counting. Anyway, tomorrow will definitely be three months.)

As I turned in for the evening, my room being directly beside my parent's room, I had planned to get some much-needed rest. I nestled down into the covers, not really cold but enjoying the oversized hug they gave me, and prepared for sleep. Just as sleep started to overcome me, I felt the chill of a ghost sense. "Oh, great," I managed a sleepily come-back, "a working vacation." It wouldn't matter that no one else's ears would hear the quip.

I transformed into my alternate ego, Danny Phantom, and floated out of the bear-like covers. Sending my mind out to the area, I searched for the essence of any ghost that might have triggered my ghost sense. Strangely, no such sense reached me. Well, if it's a weak ghost, which is highly likely, it might not be detectable until I'm closer. Considering the ground my ghost sense covers, the ghost could be anywhere but also taking the location of the Masters' Castle into consideration, I'd bet it's somewhere in these halls.

As I floated down the halls, I picked something up with my senses. Focusing on the emotion, I detected that it was human. Mr. Masters had a full working staff to accommodate the needs of the reunion guests, meaning it could have been a number of people. I was careful as I approached the human as only two concerned me: my parents. When the signature became its strongest, I wasn't too surprised to discover my dad.

My dad was well beyond the qualification for half-asleep so I didn't fear exposure. When you're in my predicament, that is changing your DNA profile and not telling your parents, the window to confess is short. My time to inform my parents of the true extent of my accident had expired three weeks after the accident. Exposure wasn't an option and that was something I had come to understand. My parents would overcrowd me for what happened and I would never be trusted again.

I prepared to continue my search for the ghost that triggered my ghost sense when I picked up another signature. It took me a few moments, but I pieced together the reason I couldn't sense them before. When I last saw them, if they hadn't been attacking the citizens of my town and causing the humans to scream, I would have never caught up to them as quickly as I had. Ghost animals, despite their strength or their age, are harder to track because of the lack of development. Ghosts of deceased humans were always the easiest to track, closely followed by ghosts of alien civilizations.

I knew what they wanted but I couldn't wrap my mind around why they'd go to such lengths to get it. I phased through the floorboards, gently phasing my dad through the floor. Like I said, he was well beyond half-asleep and he wouldn't wake up if a semi came crashing through the castle. I pondered where he might be heading and only two thoughts came to mind. Only two things mattered to Dad enough to disrupt sleep; I had a hint as to what had disturbed his slumber this evening.

I entered into the bathroom, leaving him to do his business. After all, it wasn't only he who had business to tend to. Below the floorboards of the hallway, I opened my mind to root out where the birds were. Their energies were faint, but I could tell where each of the three vulture-ghosts were at. I phased through the floorboards to float behind them, five feet off the ground. The vultures still hadn't a clue as to what had interrupted them so I decided to fill the clueless birds in. I smacked my hands together, ready to teach them a lesson: "Remember me?"

The vultures spun around, their energies flaring around their bodies. However, upon sight of me, their glows dimmed to a simple flicker, revealing their terror. I looked on, surprised, as the birds shrieked in pure, unadulterated terror. I felt myself relax, still confused but refusing to question the response I got. "That was almost too easy," I commented to no one, going over the scene in my head.

"Ah," a deep voice, dripping in authority, elaborated from behind me. I spun around instantly at the intruder, "bright boy."

The ghost that filled my view should have reached my senses. Everything about this ghost reeked power. He floated in the air, easily eight to ten feet above the ground, his shoulders squared. His off-white costume with bold black borders was coupled with a red cape with white reverse. The cape lightly billowed behind him, despite there not being a breeze.

The ghosts gave me a wide grin, tantalizing me. The dim lights glistened off his sparkling white parody of a smile but what caught my attention the most was the discoloration of his skin. In the dark confines of the hallway, an off-blue tint stood out on his face. His red eyes—glowing a deep crimson red—shown at me were lacking the irises and the pupils. The ghost looked absolutely crazy but I put up my best façade.

"I was aiming for the birds," I said, hoping to persuade him to back off, "but you'll do!"

I charged at the ghost but he remained unmoved. I didn't really want to hurt him, so I threw out a lazy punch but he easily caught my hand. The thoughts of chasing after the birds left my mind as dealing with the here and now replaced it. The ghost tossed me effortlessly into the brick wall and I slammed into it, despite not preparing to hit something of this realm. I shook the debris from my hair, trying to remove the stars as well. Why am I feeling pain and hitting walls when I'd never done so before?

I shook that thought from my head, focusing on another. Okay, he's better than I anticipated. I wasn't worried though, considering I was the reigning champion of the ghost hunters youth camp. I didn't get there by taking the easy way out. As soon as I blinked away the stars, I charged at him again.

The ghost reached out again, this time taking my throat in his hands. When his hands constricted, I felt my mind paralyze. Stupid, you don't need to breathe, I tried to tell myself but I couldn't stuff away the fear the action brought. You don't need air in ghost form, I tried to reason with my oxygen-starved brain but it wouldn't listen. It desperately cried out to breathe though even if he did release my throat, I couldn't take as much as a calming breath.

The ghost tossed me aside and I slammed into the floor of the hallway. I sat up, ignoring the pain in my back from slamming into the concrete. Why am I feeling pain? I've slammed into buildings and pavement, breaking the masonry, and I wouldn't feel a thing. Now I'm hitting walls and floors, barely causing any damage and I'm inwardly wincing? What the heck is going on?

"The vultures were supposed to bring the big idiot to me," the ghost began, cutting off my silent questions, "but you'll do," he mocked me. "Danny Phantom, right?"

"Y-you know me," I asked, confused. I'd never met this ghost before—heck, he was in Wisconsin for crying out loud—and he knew my name. The people in my town don't know the ghosts exist or know that the kid who chases away the 'monsters' isn't really called Pale-face Boy. How does he know my name? However, before he answered me he phased through the wall and into another room.

I had to know more. I phased into the room with him, watching as he crossed his arms across his chest. "Of course I know you," the ghost declared, his voice rising in aggravation. "You're the ghost who uses his powers for good," he said, slurring the word, "how quaint! Aren't you going to shove me in your ridiculous thermos?"

The ghost got right in my face, taunting me. I can't stand it when people I don't know invade my privacy so I backed away instinctively. "Get away!" I shot a ghost ray at him, attempting to scare him away.

The ghost brought up a shield, blocking my blast. "Aw, an ectoplasm energy blast," the ghost teased, "how year one." He squared his shoulders again, as a lump forming in my throat. I'm sure if I had a heart to race, it would be by now. "Tell me child," he teased, "can you do this yet?"

A purple glow enveloped his body and a moment later a copy of himself appeared a few inches beside him. I stared in shock, watching the ghost multiply not once, not twice but three times. Four of the same ghost, identical clones, stared at me, their eyes displaying the pure joy he was experiencing from my fear. I'm beginning to get why the vultures ran.

"No," I cried, looking for a place to run, "I can't! How are you doing this?" They were surrounding me on all sides. I'm trapped!

"Years of practice," the ghost remarked, the clones of himself adding depth to the echo all ghosts had. "Something you don't have time for."

I couldn't think clearly. Every fiber in my body was screaming at me to run but my path was blocked. "I-I don't want to fight you," I replied, trying to sound like it was for his own good and not mine. I wanted to appear strong. However, I can't help get the feeling that the scared child I felt like was showing.

He saw right through me, of course. "No, no you don't." His hands powered up, a strange purple glow encasing his hands like my green ecto-energy. I looked to the other three, their hands copying the original. I couldn't deny, I was scared.

I didn't care that I had taken a vow to never surrender, I wanted to run but there was nowhere to go. The first ghost sent the blast out at me, the other three's hitting at the same time as his. I screamed out, not from fear but from actual pain. The four blasts slammed into me like nothing I'd ever experienced before, causing me to collapse to the floor.

The three ghosts descended while the original remained in the air. I came to my feet, sending a blast at the first one I saw but he merely swatted it away. I crouched, ready to fight my way out of here. I didn't care what it'd take, I wouldn't go down without a fight. The two others I hadn't fired on surrounded me, one on each side.

I panicked, not knowing what to do but I refused to show how scared I really was. I kept trying to suck in a breath of air, a technique that usually caused me to stop and figure things out but my stupid ghost body didn't have any lungs. No amount of sucking in air would calm me down, completely paralyzing me. The two ghosts moved in, their forms looming over my already crouched body. They both reached out in synch, grabbing one arm apiece.

I thrashed around, trying to be free of their holds but they were too coordinated. It was a perfect technique; there was no need for practicing or worrying about someone else screwing up the formation. One brain controlled them all and it was as if he was playing a video game. In a video game, there are fewer variables because you can watch the scene from above, from a removed location. The original sat above all our heads, using his mind like the ultimate controller.

The third clone, the one I shot at, floated towards me, exiting my vision as he came up from behind. A pressure formed around the base of my neck, squeezing until I couldn't move my neck to look at anything. The instant pressure brought about a pain sensation that caused me to stop my thrashing. I grunted as I tried to wiggle out of the third clone's grip but it was vice-like. The three ghosts lifted me up in the air all the while gaining more control over my every movement.

One thought rang out in my head: I'm going to die. As soon as these three clones have me where the original wants me, he would take over and finish the job. I could feel the tears pricking at the corner of my eyes as realization came over me that this was my last moments. I'd never see my family again. I wouldn't graduate high school.

Then, suddenly the three ghosts had me in a fast procession back to the ground. A table from below fell into perfect alignment and I was sure it'd bust it into a million pieces. However, as I made contact with the table, no painful slamming from above (they didn't slam into the table), I discovered why they didn't worry about it breaking: it was marble. I groaned as my full front came into contract with the hard surface. The ghosts secured my arms by my side, one hand replaced by another.

One ghost, then the second and finally the third in a slow order gathered in front of me, each wearing a sickening smile. My arms were held in place by the original I'd imagined but I couldn't figure out why he'd need to go through all this to kill me. I felt the ghost's weight shift but out of the corner of my eye, I saw a purple light. Fearfully, I looked up to watch the three vanish. Finally, the ghost released my hands to grab the back of my neck.

The force he placed on my neck sent shots of pain throughout my body. He kept adding the pressure, forcing an excruciating yell to escape my lips. Tears flooded my eyes and I felt the cool liquid run down my cheeks. I was crying. I haven't cried since the portal accident and before then it'd been years. I noticed his lips brush my ears from behind: "If you think that hurts, boy, just wait."

The ghost slipped his hands around my waist, jerking me into a keeling position. Balling up his fists, he jerked me backwards. A large, shooting pain entered my mind, the pain growing to my backbone. I let out a strangled scream, the tears falling in a free flow. The ghost pushed and pulled me, sending knives in my mind. I screamed and cried, desperate to escape but nothing I tried would earn me any freedom.

I don't know how long that lasted but all I know is I heard his grunt from behind and his hands relaxed. I fell to the table, pain enveloping my entire form. The ghost collapsed on top of me unexpectedly, trapping me below his form. I felt this was my chance, pulling from beneath him and not daring to look back. I wanted out of this place and I would do anything to escape.

I phased through any solid object I came to but my energy levels were dropping fast. I phased through a door, collapsing to my hands and knees. I tried crawling away, praying to escape but I felt that too failing me. I collapsed, feeling darkness consume me. I fought the darkness, knowing he was just a few rooms away, but I felt the rings slip over my waist and everything went black.


He had me trapped, nowhere to run. I looked around wildly but I could find no way out. The ghost cornered me, his grin wide and menacing.

"I have you, child," he said, his voice sickeningly deep, "and you will be mine."

I felt my back hit the wall and my mind froze. He closed the space between us, pulling me to him. I looked around wildly, but there was nowhere to go. "No."

"You're mine," he whispered, causing my stomach to lurch. No, not again. "and you won't escape me this time." He leaned in, closing his eyes.

"No," I cried as he came in closer. Please, God, no. "Get away!"


"Get away," I screamed, awakening from my nightmare. I looked around, seeing I was back in my guest bedroom. What the-? How did I get here? "What happened?"

"I was about to ask you the same thing, young man," a voice replied. I nearly jumped, thinking it was the ghost from earlier. I looked up to see Mr. Masters enter into the room.

"Oh," I said, putting my hand behind my neck, "I must be still worn out from the long car ride. I'll be okay in the morning. Sorry for the scare." I hoped he wouldn't see through the lie. I have been here for more than 24 hours.

"Oh, what's a little scare between friends," Mr. Masters joked. I smiled back at him. He may have something for my mom, but he's not a bad man. "Sleep tight, Little Badger!" Mr. Masters exited my guest bedroom, closing the door.

"Goodnight," I called, lowering myself in my bed. I still had a lot on my mind but I wanted to put his mind at ease. There was no need for him to wake my parents up. It's not like I could tell them the truth anyway.

My mind went over the events of earlier but everything seemed so fuzzy. Could it be? I had just told Mr. Masters that because it sounded plausible but… a crazy ghost, who is stronger than me, all the way out here in Wisconsin. I mean, he knew my name and I was actually feeling pain. That's not something I feel every day. I closed my eyes, pinching my arm. When nothing returned to my sensors, I knew the truth. "It was just a dream," I declared.


Not all of it had been a dream, though. The next day, at the reunion, Vlad had revealed his true self to me. A half ghost like myself, Vlad has had the time to learn the trade and was considerably more talented than I was. I had only one choice when he attacked my family and he fell for it. I prayed I'd never see him again and locked that night away and tried to hide the key.

However, as it is with my life, as soon as that week was over, the resuming of school had begun with Spirit Week. We all know how that ended, of course. I thought about asking Jazz for her opinion about what happened but Jazz doesn't believe in ghosts. I didn't want to start another fight; I felt terrible as it was. I went along with my life, carrying this heavy burden. However, the one person I wouldn't be able to hide it from was Brit.

Brit Calloway lived in Amity Park her entire life until sixth grade. She lived right across the street from me but I never met her until kindergarten. Brit always tried to 'infiltrate' our defenses but Tuck and I were uninterested in hanging out with her. When Sam came along, though, things changed. Meeting Sam made me believe that Brit could be a valuable asset so we included her in our ranks. Brit and Sam appeared to never get along that well, though, for reasons I have yet to determine. Then in sixth grade, our entire lives changed.

Since I was a little boy, I've called Tucker's parents Mom and Dad Number Two and Brit's parents Mom and Dad Number Three. Tucker and Brit have called my parent's Mom and Dad Number Two and each other's parents Number Three. In sixth grade, Mom Number Three was diagnosed with cancer and was stupid enough to move to Texas even though Mom was a doctor and one of the best clinic's was in Chicago, four hours from here. I still love her but she allowed her sister, Nancy, talk her into moving in with her where Mom Number Three grew up.

Nancy hates Illinois. It's not a state thing; it's because of us. When the Calloway's moved to Illinois from Texas, they became closer to us than Nancy. So when Nancy got them down in Texas, she blocked the entire 618 area code from her phone. I hadn't talked to Brit for months before I finally got my ghost hunting team phone. The team phone had a 1-800 number and we could once again chat.

Brit is something else. She is everything Sam is not. While Sam enjoys thrillers and slasher films, Brit enjoys romantic comedies and cute little movies about animals. I'm on Sam's side here. However, something Brit hasn't grown out of yet is cartoons. She still checks out what Disney (a virtual pariah for Sam) and Nickelodeon crank out and she never misses a Pixar release (okay, neither do Tucker or I but we tell Sam we're studying).

Brit called me one evening which was completely normal but she was acting strangely this time. Brit is strange, don't get me wrong, but she was acting weirder than Brit and let me tell you, that is not easy. She finally blurted out if I had walked into a ghost portal and turned myself half ghost. It was April 3, 2004 when this happened, four months and three weeks before the actual accident. Needless to say, I burst out laughing.

On August 27, 2004 I called her back and apologized, saying it as guess who's not laughing now.

Brit was furious that I hadn't took her warning serious. I did, though; I took it really serious. I didn't want to be anywhere near that portal when my parents told me finally what the mystery project was. When they were working on it, no one was allowed in the lab and they never talked about it. I didn't know about it until that fateful Friday afternoon. When Sam and Tucker asked to see it, I couldn't tell them no.

I tripped and became half ghost for it.

I listened to the sending tone, waiting for Brit to pick up. Today was Friday, December 3, 2004.

"Hey, Danny," Brit greeted me.

"Hello," I replied, sighing from the day I had.

"What happened," Brit asked immediately.

"Has the show said anything about Spirit Week," I asked, groaning.

"Spectra," Brit said, immediately, "Danny, you need to listen to me. Jazz knows your secret!"

I laughed, "Oh, come on, Brit. Jazz? She doesn't even believe in ghosts."

"You're laughing at me," Brit said, incredulous. "Do you not remember what you had to do three months later when you laughed at me last?"

"Brit, come on. Jazz doesn't believe in ghosts. I know she helped me beat Spectra," I started.

"She used something called the Fenton-peeler, didn't she," Brit interrupted, her voice monotone. "It covers the entire body. Spectra peeled away like a banana until nothing but an old wrinkling form remained. She cried about being nothing without her youth. Your pun of the day was 'talk about having nothing within!" Brit's voice rose after every account.

"Close," I said, feeling my throat constrict. Breathe, Danny, Jazz can't know. "But Spectra didn't dissolve down to an old woman. We destroyed the host she was controlling and she was revealed as a formless black shadow. That was her true form."

"The show got something else wrong," Brit said, dejected.

"Yeah," I said, my voice even. "and if they said Jazz knew my secret, they got that wrong too."

"Danny, I really believe they got that right. Come on, didn't she pull you aside when you were eating supper and ask you to talk to her?"

I paused, my breathing stopping.


"They put that in the cartoon," I asked, horrified.


"That had nothing to do with a ghost attack! Well, at least not this one…"

"Daniel James Fenton, you tell me this instant what is going on in your life," Brit said, her voice more fearful than angry.

"Has a ghost named Plasmius been on the show before," I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. Images flooded my mind. I fought against them but it was no use.

"Vlad Masters," Brit said. "Bitter Reunions. He wants to kill Dad and marry Mom. When did he show up?"

"Last week," I said, my voice still low as a tear slipped down my face. I wiped it away angrily. "Dang it all! Why does this keep happening?"

"What happened, Danny?"

"I-I don't know if anything happened," I said, trying to control my nerves. "I think he messed with my mind, Brit. I keep having these reoccurring nightmares. I keep having these memories that I don't remember experiencing… then I do and… I just don't understand." I tried to keep myself from breaking but speaking it aloud was more difficult than I thought. I began to sob softly, trying to stop before Brit heard.

"Danny, what do your memories say," Brit asked me. She was trying to be firm. Her father is the reason Jazz wants to become a therapist and Brit's had plenty of practice as well.

"I don't know if I can speak it," I whispered, controlling my sobs.

"Just try."

"I-I think… but he couldn't. I would remember that… wouldn't I?"

"Danny, focus," Brit said, trying to keep me calm.

I took a deep breath, removing myself as far away from the memory as I could. I'm not talking about myself. I'm talking about something else. I'm watching Special Victims Unit… that's it. "H-h…raped…m-m" I said, my throat catching on hh and mm. I was unable to put he and me in that sentence.

Brit had not expected that sentence to come out of my mouth because I heard the phone clatter to the ground. I panicked, hanging up the phone burying my head in my hands. I can't believe I said that. Why did I tell her that? It didn't happen! It was just a stupid dream. I tried to get it to start again. As much as it annoyed me before, the voice I heard before all this happened did keep me sane… if that even makes sense. Now… he was becoming silent.


Every time Brit called my 1 800 number, I ignored it. How could I face her… or hear her as it is… after what I'd did. Eventually, I knew I had to call her back. It wouldn't surprise me if she walked from Texas to Illinois. If you love someone enough, you'd do anything for them. I loved her with all my heart (in a sister kind of way) and I knew she returned that affection. I finally broke down and told her everything I knew. She begged me to tell Mom and Dad but I couldn't. What would I say, anyway?

"Danny, sweetheart, come here before you go upstairs," Mom called as I came in the door. I dropped my backpack on the floor by the stairs, entering into the kitchen.

"Yeah, Mom," I asked. I looked around the room and I saw both Mom and Dad staring at me. I felt my face drain of color. Why are they having an intervention?

"Sweetheart, have a seat," Mom said, motioning for the seat.

I took a seat nervously, praying against prayer; hoping against hope this has nothing to do with a) ghost powers, b) changing DNA profiles, c) skipping classes, d) missing curfews, e)… okay, you get the point. This will end badly.

"Danny," my dad began, "We got a call today," he said. Suddenly, he couldn't contain his joy any longer, "V-man called and he wants you to spend the week with him!"

"V-man," I said, confused. Then light dawned on me; Plasmius. "Vlad Masters?"

"Yes," Mom said, less enthusiastic than my father. "For some reason, he wants you to spend the first week of Christmas vacation with him in Wisconsin. He said that the two of you had…"

"No way," I shot off. "I'm not spending any amount of time with that crazed up froot loop! I don't care what the cheese head said… I'm not doing it!"

"Gotten off on the wrong foot," Mom said, her face falling. "That may have been an understatement."

"Of the year," Dad commented, his eyes wide.

"You didn't say you would, did you," I asked, my temper soaring. "Oh, when I get my hands on that dirty rotten little froot loop! Oh," I screamed, standing up. The thrust sent my chair back clear to the other side of the room. I heard my parent's startled gasps at my incredible show of strength. "Why would he want us to spend Christmas with him! I mean he barely said goodbye to Dad after Thanksgiving!"

"He doesn't want all of us," Mom said as Dad lowered his head. "He just wants you."

"Oh," I said, my anger boiling to new highs. "Oh! Of course. Dang froot loop has found a way around the…" I trailed off, my voice dropping: "thing! Please, tell me you said no."

"We haven't answered yet," Mom replied.

"Well, you're not considering it, are you?"

"We weren't… at first," Mom said, turning to Dad.

"You've got to be kidding me," I declared.

I know it's irrational, but I still can't get the images from my nightmares out of my mind. Vlad didn't do anything to me, certainly not that, but that doesn't mean he's still not my archenemy.

"Y-you can't do this," I stated in absolute horror. "Mom, Dad, I cannot spend an entire week with Vlad. I hate the man."

"Danny," my mother declared surprised. "Hate is a pretty harsh emotion for you sweetie."

"Mom, please. I don't like him. He just isn't right. No one is that perfect," I lied. I couldn't very well tell them that he's my archenemy. As long as he stays away, he's not violating the truce.

"Danny boy, this is the whole reason V-Man wants to get together. He felt that you two didn't connect. Just give him a chance. He's a great man once you get to know him. He and I get along great. Of course he and my son will be friends," Dad declared. Dad always viewed things so black and white. How Sam can accuse me of having his visionary abilities I'll never know.

"Dad, I understand that you and he got along in college but he's different. Didn't you see that," I tried to persuade him. If I violated the treaty to avoid him, so be it.

"Danny, honey, I'm going to have to side with your father on this one," Mom answered in a resigned voice. She added, however, with a bit of worry, "Unless you can provide me with a good enough reason."

I stared at Mom first, then hopefully at Dad. Neither Mom nor Dad looked about to give up. My only choice was to either tell or go. I sighed out, resigning: "Okay, I'll go. But this is the only chance he gets. If he can't convince me this time, there won't be any buddy, buddy stuff." I only said that to make them happy. There won't be any of that anyway.


"You're going where for the holiday," Tucker asked in absolute shock.

"Not the holiday. Only until the twentieth," I told them. "I'll be back before Christmas."

"Okay, you're going where the first week," Tucker revised. I cracked a smile. That boy is not my best friend. He's so much more. He's my brother.

"Madison, Wisconsin. My parent's friend lives up there. Vlad Masters," I told them. "The guy we spent Thanksgiving with," I added as a whisper.

This caught Sam's attention. She has been high alert ever since that horrible week. "Oh, no you are not. I'm going to have a word with your parents…"

"Sam, calm down," I told her, looking her in the eyes. It was hard enough trying to convince myself it'd be okay. Now I was trying to convince Sam. What have I got myself into?

"Danny, I think Sam is actually right here," Tucker said, surprising both of us. Sam had more anger in her eyes at Tuck's comment but there was a dash of surprise.

"No, neither one of you is in the right ball field. There is nothing to worry about," I told them. Of course, I wasn't buying it so neither were they.

"Danny, I'll talk to Mom and Dad and they'll get you out of this," Tucker told me. It sounded tempting, but honestly, this is the best path. If I resist, he'll probably come after me personally. I won't turn on my family and friends. What's the worst that can happen? And, of course when I thought that, the worst-case scenario popped in my mind. It didn't happen, I remind myself, and put on a smile for my best friends.

"No," I told them, keeping the smile in place. It probably looks plastic it's so fake. "I'll get this over with and he'll get the image and we can all forget about this whole ordeal." Now, if only I could convince myself that.


I must have been the only kid in Casper High that was watching the clock on the last day, asking the second hand: 'why must you move so fast?' Vlad was so impatient that he arranged for the driver to pick me up at the school. I took my bags from my locker (I love my parents inventions… well, some of them) and headed outside.

This guy couldn't even be one second late. He sat outside, holding up a sign that said DANIEL FENTON, as if anyone could mistake it for theirs. No one in this town could afford it… and that's saying a lot. Now everyone knew whom he was here for. I imagine a wailing will be in store from Dash for upstaging him.

"Daniel Fenton, Mr. Masters has made these accommodations to transport you to the airport. Show me your bags and I'll load them for you," the snobby looking driver announced.

"No thank you," I responded, holding up a small pouch that draped over my shoulder. "I packed light. There's no need." Of course, that was far from the truth. I had a ton of junk in this bag—all of it shrunk. Well, dehydrated as Mom likes to correct.

"See you guys next week," I said to my friends. Hopefully, I kept to myself. "Stay out of trouble and don't kill each other. Look out for each other and call me if you need me. I don't care what Froot Loop thinks. I'll leave," I told them.

I couldn't stand leaving the ghost problem on them. It's not like either one of them were exactly trained in that kind of work but they could hold their own. Worse, neither one could heal like I could. Of course, that was the good part, too. At least they too weren't cursed.

"Don't worry about us," Sam responded in her usual demeanor. Of course, knowing her so well I could detect her own worry. She and Tucker waited by the car door, seeing me off before they headed home. None of us would have a good first week of Christmas Vacation however they'll never know the true extent of the depths I'm about to be subjected to.

I opened the door before the driver could and climbed inside. I shut it too before he could, anything to hold onto my independence. I'm not royalty, I'm not important, I'm not crippled—no one needs to open or close a door for me.


I flew first class to Wisconsin where yet again another snobby driver delivered me to Vlad. I felt like a stupid pizza. I made it to the castle really late, Vlad waiting happily on the balcony like the King he imagined he was.

Vlad dismissed the driver for the holidays and I noticed most of the lights were out in the castle. This meant we'd be alone. This just keeps getting better and better. Vlad led the way inside, stopping at the foot of the stairs.

"Get unpacked and get some rest. You look half dead," Vlad remarked dryly.

I scoffed. "Nice word choice," I said bitterly. Vlad didn't reply, he only stood there. I made my way up the stairs, waiting for him to assign a room. When I finally reached the rooms and he still hadn't made any comment I became a little depressed. I was so looking forward for him telling which room was mine so I could choose another and disobey him.

I hydrated the bags and unloaded them. I had just finished unpacking, sitting down on the bed when I was startled to discover him in the doorway, watching me.

"Comfortable," he asked me once he discovered I'd learned of his presence.

I scoffed. "Are you still here," I smarted back.

Vlad once again surprised me by walking into my room and sitting down on the bed beside of me. He positioned himself where he was facing me and he looked at me with an emotion I didn't recognize.

"I want you to be comfortable and it wouldn't hurt for you to be respectful," Vlad replied in his suave personality.

"You are not seriously trying to get buddy, buddy with me," I asked, disbelieving.

Vlad moved in closer, making me seriously uncomfortable. My heart leapt into my throat with the last time he seriously invaded my personal space, dream or not, fresh in my mind. Not wanting to be this close to him, I moved myself to a more comfortable space.

"No, of course not," Vlad chuckled as if it were funny. "We're beyond that and I understand. I just," he paused, "want to make some things comfortable when I can." He closed the gap I allowed myself. "There is really no point in you being entirely uncomfortable."

His hand left his side and rested on my thigh. Not on my leg like a friend, but he placed his hand on my thigh like a happy-go-lucky peruser.

With my personal space completely violated, I gave myself more room—nearly three times more than the last move. This bed was huge still Pee Wee Herman didn't take the hint. He nearly immediately closed the gap.

If I moved, he'd only close it again so I gave a verbal warning. It was meant to be aggravated; however it did not turn out that way. "Dude," I said stiffly and a bit scared.

Vlad leaned in, one hand behind me and the other between my legs. "I told you you'd be a little uncomfortable." Vlad moved the weight of his body where it was practically on top of me. "You may find this to be more than a little."

The hand between my legs vacated the premises to my relief to only rest on my left check. Vlad pulled my head to his and before I knew what was happening he was in a full blown kiss with me. If that wasn't enough, his hand left my cheek and went back to my crotch.

My mind froze in disbelief. I couldn't fight back—that was until his hand went further than just between my legs. When he went for the zipper of my blue jeans, my mind thawed. I powered up my ectoblasts, one in both of my fists, ready to fire.

Vlad raised the hand going for my zipper, continuing the kiss, and placed it on my balled up, ready to fire fists. I tried to break away from him, feeling his mouth intertwine with me. I felt nauseas but my mind was still in shock. I felt the fire in my hands die, the ecto-blast fizzling away before I could fire. It was as if he too had the trigger to my powers. His hand wrapped around my waist, pulling me deeper into the kiss. I felt the tears well in my eyes.

Finally, Vlad's lips left mine momentarily to make my fate: "Regardless of how uncomfortable this makes you, you have no choice in the matter." Then, like he never spoke, he returned to my lips, now with a new fire. With one hand he lowered me to the bed and with the other he successfully unzipped my pants. I let out a strangled gasp knowing it wasn't a dream. That night in the castle, before the reunion, Vlad had raped me… and he was going to do it again.

AN: Please see fan fiction dot net slash my forums slash Team 04 Phantom slash 3876657 for any information containing background and timeline. Updated regularly.

M rating for descriptive sexual scenes in later chapters and language.