This is a somewhat large chapter, and the format of this entire fic is sort of rambling. That's on purpose! It's supposed to be something like an internal dialogue or rant. I wrote this when I was low on sleep and ended up really liking the indiscriminate sharing of it. Every detail is important somehow, but even I don't know exactly how it is just yet.

WARNINGS: I think there is 1 (one) cuss word? Also there is math. You can skip the math if you want to, though, since it might not be 100% correct. Besides, the numbers themselves aren't the important part, it's the words around the numbers that are.

Have you ever done something that you thought would be for the good of yourself and the people you cared about, then had that something blow up in your face?

Yeah, me too.

Take this something for example: I, Danny Fenton, got ghost powers when I was fourteen. Those ghost powers did nothing but put my family and friends in danger, but I kept them because I was needed to fight the malevolent ghosts. But when the Master's Blasters came around, they began doing my job. Worse, they did it better than I did!

Once I saw that my reason for keeping my powers and endangering my friends was no longer valid, I took the opportunity to go back to the portal and get rid of my powers. In my eyes, it was obvious that if I wasn't needed for fighting off ghosts, the action that would protect the most people would now be to do away with Danny Phantom. Really, I didn't need those abilities and it would be safer for all of Team Phantom when I didn't have them! Being a normal fifteen-year-old again was an added bonus, one that I was more than pleased about.

Well, until it blew up in my face. And by that, I mean worse than usual. If that's not saying something you must not understand language.

This one in particular was more of a shrapnel grenade, in comparison to the majority of mug mines. When my team (Sam Manson, Tucker Foley, and my sister Jazz) found out what I'd done and why, they weren't understanding at all. I had expected them to at least try, you know? Well, at least Jazz and Tuck only expressed their disappointment briefly before just kinda moving on. It wasn't what I had anticipated, but it was better than Sam's reaction.

Now, for those of you who don't mysteriously know virtually everything about my life since the portal accident when I got my powers, I'll tell you what I thought about Sam. She was a Goth, but she was actually pretty optimistic, and, well, just pretty. She was all about animal rights and loved gardening. On top of it all, she was usually the voice of reason in our little group, acting as the main strategist. Ghost fighting brought us all closer, but at that point I was fairly sure I wanted to go out with her.

Okay, scratch that, she was really hot and I wanted to kiss her face. Not some fake-out-make-out, a real kiss.

But what she said to me tossed all of that out of a window.

And not just any window, either. I'm talking, like, a window from one of the top floors of the Empire State Building or something to that affect. Really, from the way our budding romance hit the ground, there was no possibility of it being revived.

Seriously, though, Sam barely even let me explain myself before she went off in this tirade about how selfish I was being, and how much she wanted the 'real me' back. Don't get me wrong, I saw where she was coming from, but that wasn't even the worst of it.

No, the worst part was that 75% of her rage came from the fact that I was normal. Not from me supposedly taking the easy way out or letting Vlad's jerks charge people for fending off ghosts. Especially in retrospect, I can completely understand why she would say that. Instead, she ranted on and on about how boring I was, now that Phantom was gone!

(Never mind the strange notion in the back of my mind that he wasn't gone, not at all. That particular part of me that pointed out that my hair proved it, that I wouldn't ever really be normal again. I shoved it away pretty quickly, anyway.)

So, yeah. That, to me, was the ultimate betrayal. Someone I considered a best friend and more was only even friends with me because I was an oddity. She only cared because I wasn't the normal kid I wanted to be.

I gave up my lifelong dreams to follow my obsession with protecting others (yeah, I've come to accept that, as a Halfa, I do have an obsession. It's still a weird thing to think about.) with hardly a second thought. I went days, sometimes even weeks, with little to no sleep just for the sake of fighting ghosts. I suffered through grisly gashes and walked around with broken bones as if nothing was wrong. I let my own parents shoot at me just so I could continue to do my job when I was needed.

And the person who unwittingly forced me into this half-life only cared because I was weird enough to be worthy of her.

Yeah, that's about when I realized that, really, Samantha Manson and Paulina Sanchez could have been best friends if it wasn't for their differing fashion preferences. Actually, Sam might have Paulina beat when it comes to being shallow, though I can't pretend Paulina is as clever as Sam.

Once I came to that realization, though, I made a silent vow that I personally believe was one of the best and most logical promises I've ever made. I made an oath to never trust Sam, or anyone else, so unconditionally without proof for the rest of my paradoxical existence.

That oath has saved me more times than I could ever hope to recount.

That still wasn't even the worst part of this whole thing, either. I mean, that was the actual detonation, but this is a shrapnel grenade, remember? Well, the shrapnel came in the form of an asteroid approximately the size of Earth itself hurtling towards us at incredibly high speeds, set to destroy us all in only a week.

The press dubbed it the Disasteroid. Well, I supposed that my failure of an existence could use one last crappy pun. It wasn't like that would make things worse.

If there was something that could make things worse, it would be Vlad. And, surprise, surprise, the fruitloop of all fruitloops up and revealed himself to the world, just like that. Then he said he'd use his powers to save the world and turn the Disasteroid intangible, but only if every country agreed to give him some ridiculous sum of money (what was it, 500 billion or something?) and make him supreme ruler of the entire world.

Okay, okay, stop right there. Does anyone else see how absurd this is!? Because all joking aside, Vlad was already a multi-billionaire before he made his demands. Why, exactly, does he need that much money? And you'd think that a cunning supervillain like him would realize that third world countries are a thing. They don't have all of that cash.

C'mon, a kid who wasn't even sixteen yet figured that out. Vlad needed to get on top of things.

Besides, if Vlad had just offered, without revealing himself, to have a ghost supposedly captured by the Master's Blasters turn the Disasteroid intangible, he'd basically be made a worldwide hero anyway. If he wanted to rule, he'd have an easier time doing it as a well loved savior than an evil tyrant.

As I've always said, that dude needs some serious therapy. And another cat. Maybe then he'd realize that the nice way of doing things is actually sometimes the best way. Of course, I'm pretty much obligated to believe that, as the superhero in this equation. But I digress.

I think that, given his horribly thought-out plan, my complete and unadulterated rage when it did absolutely nothing to save Earth is completely justified. That complete asshole! He just randomly decides to do stupid shit like that, then leaves me to clean up his mess.

Luckily, Dad got some readings on the Disasteroid when he was shuttling Vlad up to the huge hunk of space rock. Those readings said that the thing was made entirely of ectoranium.

Now, don't get me wrong here, I hate my parents' work most of the time. And I mean flat-out despise it. Even so, it's basically impossible to grow up with the world's most foremost (and most enthusiastic) paranormal scientists without picking up a few things. It's doubly so when you spend just under two years assuming everything they make and work with can kill you.

And, really, I'm not as dull as my grades and general cluelessness make me seem. I just don't remember things very well without a practical application. For instance, no, I didn't remember very much about Greek myths before Sam said something. I'm not very interested in them, and until I met Pandora they didn't have anything to do with my main concern in life, ghost fighting. On the other hand, I can pretty much recite the exact levels and known powers of all of the ghosts I know, with the exception of the ones who've never been near a Ghost Scanner.

That being said, it's probably not much of a surprise that I actually know quite a bit about the properties of ectoranium. That includes the most common sources, the general amount needed to harm a ghost of a particular level, and (most importantly, in this case) the density of pure ectoranium.

Since the Disasteroid was almost exactly the same size as Earth, it can be reasoned that its volume was probably around one sextillion, 97 quintillion, 509 quadrillion, 500 trillion cubic meters. So 1,097,509,500,000,000,000,000 cubic meters. Considering that, like silver, ectoranium has a density of approximately 10,490 kilograms per cubic meter, an Earth-sized object made completely of ectoranium would be 1.15 times ten to the twenty-fifth power. That's a lot.

But the readings showed that the Disasteroid had an estimated mass of 3.73 times ten to the twenty-fourth power. That's still a lot, but a significantly smaller lot. That meant that if the whole thing was made of a single compound, it only had a density of around 3,400 kilograms per cubic meter.

Longish story short, there was no way in hell that the Disasteroid was really made completely out of ectoranium. It was more likely, based on that result, that it was composed mainly of a type of chondrite, like almost 90% of meteorites, with an outer coating of ectoranium. Since ectoranium is nearly indestructible until raised to an extremely high temperature, it's not at all surprising that the shell didn't wear away over millions of years in space.

What? Like I said, I'm not stupid. Just because I don't like school and don't have the time to do homework doesn't mean I'm not good at it.

Back on topic, Phantom.

When I told my parents about my calculations, they barely even paid me any mind. You know, it's more than a little insulting when your own parents have so little faith in you that they ignore your genuine attempts to save the world. I mean, yeah, it'd been pretty obvious my whole life that I was adopted, but they raised me. In my eyes, that gives them the obligation to at least consider that what I say has some value.

That's right, I'm not actually biologically related to my parents. Or Jazz, for that matter, but whatever. When I was really little, they kind of hated me for a reason that was never explained, then all of a sudden they stopped those pointless psychologist appointments I'd been going to and started treating me right when I was... Hmm, I think I would've been eight, if just barely. It's weird, but it's in the past, especially now. I tried not to think about it too much before everything happened, before this whole fiasco.

Anyway, it took me literally shouting that I had a plan to get their attention. Even then, they were going to yell at me until I started talking over them. Actually, let me just tell you what was actually said:

"Yeah, yeah," I'd rolled my eyes, "But maybe if you actually paid attention to the fact that the Disasteroid isn't really pure ectoranium, you'd be getting somewhere."

That shut them up real quick, though, Mom glanced away from me to actually check my logic against the readings. After a moment, she returned her goggled gaze to me. Honestly, those red goggles always kind of reminded me of some sort of bug. Creepy.

"Alright," she'd finally said, "I'm listening."

With a grin, I had launched into something that was part-explanation, part interrogation, "You guys know how it takes a lot of impure ectoranium to stop even a low-level ghost, right? Well, since my calculations show that the majority of this asteroid is probably just chondrite, the only part that's pure ectoranium, as far as I can tell, is the outside. That means that if we somehow managed to get all of the ghosts Phantom knows to help, we could use their intangibility to overpower it."

Dad saw a hole in my plan. "But the ghosts still can't directly touch the pure ectoranium from the surface. It won't work," He'd pointed out.

But I had seen that coming, "That's right," I said with a nod, "but you and Mom have made ectoplasmic energy amplifiers before, right? For the Specter Speeder and stuff like that?"

Both of my parents had nodded, eager (for once) to hear what I had to say. I'd continued.

"If you make a really huge one of those, then the ghosts could channel their intangibility through it and into the earth. By the time the Disasteroid reaches us, the planet will already be intangible. Since the ghosts aren't trying to change the ectoranium with their powers, they'll have a much easier time saving is all. That also means less ghosts will need to be convinced, which is good because even though Phantom has been trying to gather friendly ghosts to make a plan to stop the Disasteroid, he only had about seven allies last time he checked in."

This had caught their attention. "What!?" Mom had shrieked, "You've been talking to Phantom!?"

Yeah, Mom, lots of people talk to themselves. It's not that weird.

With a sigh, I'd confirmed, "Yeah, we met once or twice before he died. He still has family in Amity Park, so his main goal in afterlife is to protect the people there. Of course he's worried now."

My parents had fallen silent, though my dad had been scribbling down notes. Weird, yes, but that's what he's always been like.

"Anyway, I think that once I tell him that the Ghost Zone will be destroyed along with the Human Zone, he'll be able to get a lot more ghosts for our cause." They'd sent me confused looks, "Remember, life and death are two sides of the same coin? Can't have one without the other, right?"

And so it had gone until, finally, the amplifier was complete. We decided to build the structure in the Park, and since Vlad wasn't around to approve it, no one really said we could, but no one was about to stop the Fentons. Actually, once it got out that we were doing what we were, news reporters started coming in, and by the day of the Disasteroid there were dozens of them preparing to shoot... In a much more pleasant way than I was used to. Everyone wanted to see the media-dubbed Fenton Machine, though we all elected to ignore that title.

Between the four of us (Jazz had been brought up to speed by Mom), we managed to finish it a little more than three hours before impact. Now came the hard part.

I had to, somehow, go gather as many ghosts as possible and have them back at the Fenton Anti-Disasteroid Structure (Dad might need to learn how to name things better, but this one's acronym was F.A.D.S. and honestly I think he's done worse) in two and a half hours, tops.

Luckily, even though I had already accidentally destroyed the Fenton Portal completely when removing my powers (yet another way that idea blew up in my face), Vlad's was still operational. So into the Speeder I secretly climbed, and in ten minutes flat I found myself smack-dab in the middle of the Barrens.

Now, I know what you're probably thinking. 'Where in the world is that?', right? Well, before I inadvertently demolished the Fenton Portal, that's where it led. It was the place where the ghosts who didn't or couldn't after-live under the law went, so that's why so many malevolent ghosts ended up making it to the human world.

I was lucky enough to walk (or rather, drive) in on some sort of meeting about the fate of the human world. The ghosts, mostly ones I had faced before, froze when they saw the Specter Speeder. I had stopped and exited, using the Ghost Zone's unique physics to float near my vehicle.

"Um, hi." I'd started awkwardly, but before I could say anything else I was cut off by Skulker's familiar voice.

"Whelp," he'd said in a low growl, "what do you want? One last hunt before your home gets blown to bits?"

Swallowing thickly, I'd refused, "Um, no thanks. I'm actually here to ask you all for help." I vaguely noted that it wasn't just a meeting for Barrens ghosts I had intruded upon. Nearly all of the ghosts I'd ever met were present, even Dani, Clockwork, and Frostbite. That gave me a bit more hope, that maybe they'd help me convince the other ghosts.

But they didn't even have the chance. As soon as those words left my mouth, my ghostly enemies began stirring themselves into a frenzy. Because how dare I come and ask them for help after all the times I'd stuffed them into the Thermos and banished them back to the Barrens?

Before I could find a way to defend myself, most of the ghosts had had me surrounded, and as one they had fired dozens of beams of ectoplasmic energy at me.

It was pain completely unlike the portal accident, but a similar feeling welled up where my core was supposed to be. The little part of me that insisted Phantom had never left had grown stronger, and as the energy assaulted me, it was absorbed by my starved ghost self, I had realized that the feeling was actually my core itself. It had never left, but had been irrevocably changed, and apparently weakened in the process. The energy the ghosts had given me was actually just what I'd needed to jumpstart my system, though none of us (except Clockwork, but he's Clockwork) had known it.

Supercharged as I was, it wasn't difficult for me to call upon a fraction of my Ghostly Wail's power, amplifying my voice to be heard above the roar of the crowd. And that's exactly what I'd done.

"HEY, DO YOU WANT TO SAVE THE GHOST ZONE OR NOT!?" I'd thundered, startling the ghosts out of their ferocity. They had stared at me with wide eyes of many colors as I caught my breath. "Thank you. So I'm pretty damn sure none of you knew that if one world is destroyed the other goes with it, am I right?" I hadn't waited for an answer, "Exactly. Now if you come with me and help turn Earth intangible, we can all keep existing."

They hadn't needed much more convincing.

And all of that leads me to where I was now, commanding the ghosts to divert their intangibility through the amplifier into the earth. I joined them, watching as a burning green began to take over the sky. To my surprise, the portal Wulf had torn had placed us in the park as expected, but with only a quarter of an hour left to impact. Working as a single unit, we all channeled our powers into the F.A.D.S. (I said he had done worse, but that's still not a cool name) and swiftly the ground far below our feet (or, in some cases, tails) shifted transparent with the ghostly ability.

And just in time, too, because not three minutes later the burning of ectoranium engulfed my entire being, and I can safely assume the other ghosts felt the same. I gritted my teeth to prevent from crying out, and dimly registered that many others had failed to restrain themselves. Echoing gasps and screams rang out in the intangible clearing.

Then, just as soon as it had come, the horrible sensation fell away. Panting for breath, I turned my attention to Technus, who was stationed beside me for this very reason. He pulled a tablet from who-knows-where (I don't ask and he doesn't tell, it's a good system) and tracked the progress. A wave of relief crashed over me when all signs showed we had managed to cloak the whole globe before it was too late, though only with seconds to spare. What was it with my life and last-minute successes? Was that part of the Halfa handbook? Because if it was, someone needed to get me a copy.

Two and a half exhausting minutes later, Technus gave me the all clear.

"Alright, good work everyone!" I called, a weary smile on my face, before I tumbled oh so gracefully to the ground. I heard a few cries of alarm from humans and ghosts alike as the former ran out of the way, allowing me to hit the mostly-dead grass with a painful thump, "Okay, ow."

"Danny!" Three familiar voices shouted in unison, and I sat up to see Sam, Tucker, and Jazz barreling towards me.

Okay, I'm going to guess what you're thinking again. Probably something about how I'll tell them I forgive them and that maybe we can stay friends even when they all basically abandoned me for not being special enough. Oh, I kind of wish I could see your faces when you people read this.

"Danny, are you okay?" Jazz asked gently, kneeling beside me. Tucker knelt at my other side, while Sam remained standing.

"Yeah, I'm alright," I assured her honestly, "I think I'm still re-stabilizing right now, and the strain was too much too soon."

"Oh, good," Sam said with an easy smile, "Now that that's out of the way, we want to say... Danny, we forgive you."

Um, excuse me, but what?

Alright, so think back to that list of irrational things I do just because it comes with being a Halfa. Now add this whole 'convincing my enemies to help me save not one, but two dimensions' thing. Don't you think I'd at least get a thank you for any of that?

Yeah, I thought so too, but apparently I was the only one out of Team Phantom that actually thought that way. And even though I said I was fine, Sam seemed so... dismissive of it. Like she didn't care in the first place.

Well, if my theory was correct...

"Uh, yeah, thanks for that I guess. So do you like me again now that I'm not normal - ah, sorry, now that I'm 'the real me' again?" I queried in an innocent tone.

Well, no one will ever accuse me of being subtle.

But the three of them smiled, Sam confirming my suspicions, "Yeah! It's so great to have you back, you know. I missed you so much!" God, had she always been laying it on that thick? Maybe it just seemed that way now that I was looking for it.

Tucker spoke up for the first time, concern beginning to return to his eyes, "Hey, man, are you sure you're doing okay? You don't look so great. Or, well, worse off than usual."

I just sent him a blank look, stood, and addressed my parents, who were approaching our huddled group. The rest of the humans had been keeping their distance.

"Thank you, Jack and Maddie Fenton. As I'm sure my good friend, the other Danny, has told you, I was in a total panic over what to do. Your machine was a lifesaver and more, and I really don't know how else to show you how much this means to me." I confessed with a small, shaky smile. When my parents didn't say anything for a long pause, I faltered, "Um, if you'd rather I just go-"

"NO!" Mom suddenly exclaimed, but then she repeated it more calmly, with an embarrassed blush coloring her cheeks, "I mean, no. It's just, we weren't sure... You're really Phantom, right?"

Taken aback by the question, I glanced down at myself. Though, strangely, my clothes were a bit different than usual (Was that a cape? I was gonna have to get rid of that as soon as I got the chance.), the color pattern was the same and I still gave off my ghostly white glow. Though now I was even more confused. Why didn't they recognize me?

"Yeah, it's me," I finally confirmed, an eyebrow raised in question, "If you don't mind, why do you ask?"

Mom seemed as shocked by my question as I had been at hers, but Dad was immune to the feeling. "Well, we've never seen a GHOST change its appearance so much without warning or fusing with another ghost! We hardly recognized you," He explained with a goofy grin.

I tried not to shudder at the idea of fusion (a huge reminder of Dan Phantom) or that last part (they'd never recognized their own adoptive son, the kid they'd raised for so many years, so why would they now?). Instead, I nodded.

"I get it, I guess. I think I just leveled up, so to speak." I paused uncomfortably, "Um, why didn't you want me to leave? Was there something else you needed? If you wanted something to experiment on," I grimaced, "You'd need to get me to promise to do it in return for the safety of someone I love, like what happened with the Red Huntress. She let me go, though. I appreciate escaping vivisection." I snapped my mouth shut, realizing I was rambling in a really morbid way.

Mom seemed embarrassed and... was that guilt? Yeah, she looked embarrassed and guilty as she shook her head, "No, we actually wanted..." She took a deep breath, seeming to brace herself, "We wanted to say thank you, as well."

I'm not entirely sure, but I think I gaped like a fish for at least a full ten seconds. Way to look like a total freaking idiot, self. Nice going.

Once I finally found my voice, I questioned that, "Not that I'm not really happy to hear that - and I am very pleased, this isn't something that happens every day - but I'm a bit confused. Since when do people like you actually thank me? I'm pretty sure you were still running around screaming about tearing me apart at the most fundamental level just last week."

It wasn't a lie. They seemed to have been too caught up in building the F.A.D.S. lately to continue, but before that they'd been as terrifyingly enthusiastic as ever.

Mom cringed, and Dad took over for her. "That's right! But then Danny told us some things we hadn't known about you. It's funny; we'd never considered that ghosts could remember their lives!"

It was my turn to cringe. Though it was true that some did, many were never humans in the first place.

"Not everybody does. Actually, about half of the ghosts I met were born ghosts. They don't have a human life to remember anyway," I pointed out, "It's kind of like when people were immigrating to America a long time ago. Some of the people labeled as foreigners were actually immigrants themselves, but a good chunk were the children or grandchildren of immigrants and had never lived outside of America. Do you get what I mean?"

My parents exchanged a glance that made me a bit nervous, but when Mom actually spoke the feeling was dispersed, "I think so. Does that mean that other ghosts have overcome their innate evil to do good things? Or is that just you?"

See, this is what happens when I get my hopes up. They might be willing to consider that I'm not the embodiment of pure evil, but only because I managed to 'overcome the innate evil of my kind'? Rude.

"Uh, yeah, there's actually a bunch of good ghosts," I glanced back at the F.A.D.S. Most of my enemies had already gone home, to my relief, but a few of my allies had stayed. I waved them over, a smile on my face.

"Right, so this girl who looks a lot like me is my cousin, Danielle. She wanders the human world and helps when people need it. Then there's Cujo here. He's a little puppy now, but he can grow to be really huge. He was a guard dog at Axion Labs before they upgraded the security and put him down. He made a huge mess when he went back for his squeaky toy, but he's a good boy. Most of the time he follows Danielle or your Danny, but he doesn't actually have an owner.

"And this huge fluffy friend of mine is Frostbite, King of Ice, Ruler of the FarFrozen," He waved with a smile that would scare most people, but I thought it was kind of adorable (I have warped perceptions like that). I continued, "He and his people keep calling me 'Great One' just because I defeated the evil Ghost King all on my own. It's not like I didn't have any help, though! Otherwise, they're great teachers and really good at cooking."

I stepped over to the last ghost that had stayed behind, "Finally, this is Pandora. She's kind of like a mom to me, since even though my human parents are still around they never really liked me very much. She's in charge of guarding a box full of evil, and is Queen of Athens. She's badass." Pandora laughed heartily at the last part and ruffled my hair gently with one of her four hands.

For a while, I just mediated between the three ghosts (not four, since Cujo can't talk) and two ghost hunters as they discussed everything from ghostly biology to the weather. It was... beyond thrilling to see the people who had raised me putting aside differences for once. But it could only last so long. Soon, the ghosts had to leave to attend some sort of post-Disasteroid meeting that I was evidently not invited to. I was left alone with my parents (and a bunch of other humans, including news reporters) again.

"Sooo," I said awkwardly, "Thanks again for building this thing. And to all of you people for, you know, not shooting me today."

Mom laughed, a joyful sound, "If we had, none of us would be here to talk about it!"

"Although," Dad pointed out, "If it wasn't for Vlad, we wouldn't have needed to worry about it. He told me that it was his space station that knocked the Disasteroid towards Earth!"

Oh no.

Ohhhhh no.

They were not going to-

"Hey, what exactly was he anyway?" Mom implored, one hand on her hip while the other hovered over her mouth in thought.

Aaand they did.

Clearing my throat in discomfort, I tentatively answered, "Vlad was - and probably still is, somewhere out there - something called a Halfa. Half-human, half-ghost. He was the first one to exist, as far as we all know." I wisely decided to leave out the fact that there were others.

To my horror, their expressions quickly shifted to complete disgust. Mom was the first to speak, in an incredulous tone, "So he was always a traitor to humanity!? That is nauseating!"

Any hopes I still had fell right out of the air, like I had not too long ago.

"Well, Mads, at least there aren't any more of those nasty freaks of nature! They sound even worse than ghosts!"

That was all I could take.

I shifted into invisibility and rocketed away, heading straight for Sam's house. That was where I usually went to hide, since she had so many spare rooms.

But then my promise from earlier resurfaced in my mind. I couldn't go to Jazz, either; despite being a psychologist, she hadn't seen the truth about Sam... Or maybe she had. That was even worse.

But Tucker... No, even though he was better, it wasn't by much. He was always trying to get Sam and I together, and I didn't want to have to live with that anymore.

So instead, I flew somewhere no one would ever think to look: Vlad Masters' mansion.

Since he had been the mayor and a billionaire, the mansion had even more rooms than Sam's. Soon, I had found one that was painted a soothing blue, with a comfortable bed and not much else. I (really, really) hated to admit it, but when he wasn't decorating everything in green and gold his style wasn't too bad.

Settling down on the immaculately clean bed, I sighed and flopped backwards, perpendicular to the way I should have been laying. With that, I relaxed and shifted back to human form.

...I said, I shifted back to human form.

...

Oh shit.

That's the longest single chapter I've posted, and I don't intend to overcome that any time soon. If you have questions, go ahead and ask!

Word Count: 5579

Thanks for reading, and have a nice day/evening!