Great billows of smoke were still rising into the air when the first rays of sunlight broke through the valley that morning. As the dawn broke through the skies, the landscape of the town was lit up to reveal the full extent of the devastation that had been wreaked upon Amity Park. As the people slowly emerged from their hiding places, a collective wail of anguish swelled up and hung above the air. Buildings had been reduced to small piles of rubble, most of that which had been affected by the energy beam having been disintegrated into near nothingness; whatever did remain standing around the vicinity were mere husks, with the remaining matter crumbling even as it stood.

Voices called out anxiously over one another, hysterical mothers searching for their children, neighbours stumbling over stray blocks of bricks trying to find any other survivors.

And then of course, there were the cries for help.

Danny had spent the remainder of the night flying to the spots he knew, making a map in his head of how badly the suburbs had been struck. The Nasty Burger had been blown to pieces, recognizable now only by the few shards of the giant sandwich monument that lay on the ground, smouldered at the edges, where the eatery had once stood. And if the Nasty Burger had been destroyed, that meant the school had likely suffered a similar fate.

The size of the Casper High grounds had saved it somewhat from having been completely erased. The building itself had half collapsed, leaving a lurid image for Danny to behold. Water was gushing from a pipe over at one section of the ruin, where a drinking fountain had once stood. Lights crackled and hummed dangerously overhead from the part of the school that still remained, Specks of white dust were floating before his eyes, the remains of debris eliminated so completely that only particles finer than ash trailed behind.

The football pitch, extending from the right end of the building, now appeared to be completely separated from the rest of the school due to the gaping hole that embedded itself like a barrier of nothingness in between the campus. The concrete parking lot allocated to the south of the school was nowhere to be found, and the bleachers had been swallowed up by the energy beam as it tore past too. All that remained was the painted end and the row of bleachers at the other corner of the pitch, and to add insult to injury, the cracked scoreboard, now darkened and no longer spitting up sparks. Danny had landed just in front of the machine to inspect it curiously. His eyes were immediately drawn to the middle of the screen, where the icon of a small grinning bat was pasted, no longer glowing neon green, but now a dull flat color resting on the electronic surface of the board.

Danny glanced down at his gloved hands, his mind wondering, Cautiously, he peeled the gloves off, his hands shaking as he turned them over. Hesitantly, he reached for his right arm, gingerly drawing back the fabric of the black jumpsuit with bated breath.

The air came rushing out of him and his posture slackened as he stared down at the vulnerable spot just under his wrist. Plastered over the delicate blue veins that gathered there was was a tattoo of wolf baring its teeth. Danny stared at it in stupefied horror, then slowly moved to his left arm and tugged the sleeve of his jumpsuit back. There, on his other wrist, was the image of a snarling panther meticulously outlined and colored in green ink. Lydia's tattoos, still embedded upon him, just as surely as the bat remained on the scoreboard, having sunk under his gloves when they had pinned him to the wall in Vlad's tower, and had now carved themselves a place upon his flesh.

Danny brushed at the imagery, not sure what he was feeling; confused, bewildered, angry? All he knew was that the images appeared to be permanent for they weren't coming off even as he increased the pressure of his scrubbing.

Decisively, he slipped his gloves back on, resolving to come back to them later, before taking to the air again and zooming away from the remains of Casper High.

Deep grooves ran along the earth, cutting a swath through pavements, splitting roads, wide mounds of dark earth left behind to illustrate the path the ship had followed overhead, highlighted further by the destruction heaped upon residential homes and parks and shops along the sides. As he soared over the town, he spotted sparse movements of activity down below as the people began to venture forth from shelter.

Watching them, knowing he was now close to his very own neighborhood, ugly images of his house and his parents came unbidden into his mind. Fear began to fill up inside him as his mind ran over the details of what had occurred the previous evening. He had told Tucker and Sam to keep his parents safe, to keep them away from the destructive beam's force, but what if they hadn't made it in time? His parents had been enjoying a night at home; what if they hadn't seen the news, heard the screams, been caught unaware until it was too late?

Shaking his head, Danny directed himself to come in for a smooth landing on the main street, not bothering to look around as he transformed. There was no reason to care at the moment.

Jogging up the road, Danny turned the corner at a house on the corner that, to some surprise, was largely untouched aside from a corner at the top of the building sinking inwards. Mentally picturing the scene, Danny determined that this was a point at which the ship had violently swerved, the beam catching at the side of the building, but leaving it otherwise upright as the angle of the vessel shifted.

He fastened his pace, dread overwhelming him and causing large drops of sweat to trickle down his forehead. Freakshow had targeted the white trucks that harbored the Guys in White, and there was one situated right across the Fenton residence. As he approached the block he lived on, Danny's legs slowed down to a slow walk as he took in the sight that lay in front of him.

Unlike the other regions of Amity Park he had glanced down upon, the street he lived on showed no signs of activity. He didn't need to inspect the rubble closely to realize that this area had been struck much harder than the main road he had just been on. Of course, it stood to reason, that the main road hadn't been the intended target for the ghosts last night anyway, the people there had merely been unfortunate enough to get caught in the crossfire.

Absolute silence reigned over the street he walked on now. Danny numbly placed one foot in front of the other, slowly edging forward and his eyes flickered about to take in as much as he possibly could.

Houses on either sides of the sidewalk had been all but demolished, great yawning holes along the foundation and on the rooftops; most of the trees that had surrounded this once leafy suburb had been obliterated; half-worn barks stood in their place with abruptly shortened branches bearing stray leaves that blew lethargically against the soft breeze. There were no birds chirping, a constant melody in the background that Danny hadn't missed until it was gone. There were no cries for help, no stray animals that drifted past searching for companionship, no clattering from desperate families shifting through the rubble; no movement whatsoever that Danny could observe,

The stillness of the scene unnerved Danny more than he could comprehend. What he found to be the most notable aspect of this situation were the tendrils of smoke that wafted from the dwellings that surrounded him, yet he could not spot nor feel the effects of any open fires to generate them. It was almost as though everything that had been struck had simply dissolved out of existence, the power of the beam too strong to leave behind any trace behind; just a clean, simple sweep, and everything in its path was just … gone.

The house, Danny was thankful to find, had not been annihilated entirely. The townhouse his family resided in appeared to have been broken in half. The right side of the house appeared to have been left largely intact, while the left appeared to have taken the brunt of the attack.

His eyes shifted upwards, to the attic. The blimp that stood atop the Fenton residence was gone, and, Danny surmised, so was the ladder that led one up to the FentonWorks laboratory, gone along with the left half of the townhouse. What remained of the laboratory in the attic was now unreachable.

Gingerly, Danny climbed over a jagged remnant of the wall and stepped inside what remained of his home. The living room was darkened, the lights having been blown out by the attack. Danny felt his foot slide over the slippery earth and hastily reached out to the grip the broken edges of the wall to steady himself. He glanced down and noticed that he was standing nearly ankle deep in mud from the great cavity of earth the energy beam had exposed as the tile from the flooring that had once lined the floor was destroyed by the impact of the beam hitting the ground.

The living room appeared to have been devastated. The bowl of popcorn on the table and a comfortable throw blanket draped carelessly upon the couch were in sharp contrast to the missing walls that were meant to have enclosed the area. The television, which had been propped to one corner of the room, was also missing.

Danny's eyes languidly surveyed the room, his eyes coming to rest on the door towards the side that led down into the basement. Jolting upright, he rushed over to it and sharply pulled at the doorknob, letting out a yelp of surprise when the knob came off in his hand, while the door remained sealed. Puzzled, Danny stared up, his eyes studying the spot until he realized that there was something off about the angle of the door. Taking a step back for a better view, Danny noticed that the door itself, while standing, had tilted somewhat so that it pushed awkwardly against the frame. The door was stuck, obviously having been tilted off its axis from the vibrations of the attack.

Resolutely, Danny pushed against it, apply just enough strength to get a good grip on the surface and then focused on directing his energy outwards, feeling his powers flow through his veins and down his arms until the white door shimmered and turned translucent. Delicately, Danny turned his wrists a few degrees, feeling the door pivot within the frame until it was placed back at the correct angle.

Satisfied with his work, Danny cut off the flow of energy, feeling the apparatus beneath his fingers turn solid again. He straightened up and pushed lightly at the door. It remained still for a few scant moments, then began to plummet backwards, aiming straight at him as it fell off its hinges. His eyes widening, Danny leaped out of the way just in time to hear the loud thudding of the rotten door as it landed heavily upon the spot where he had stood moments ago.

The basement was even darker than the living room, the light permeating through the area where the door had been giving way to eerie pitch black. Danny reached for the banister as he placed his foot on the first step, freezing when he heard it creak and bend under the firm pressure of his hand. He pulled it away, startled by the realization that it was possibly about give way. Blindly, he tread down the stairs, pressing himself up against the wall to steady himself against the risk of stumbling.

His breathing was coming out ragged and loud, echoing against the walls, but as he moved downwards, it occurred to him that the sound was too heavy to be coming from just one person. He froze on the last step. There was someone here. "Hello?"

"Danny?" he heard a familiar voice in response. Light flooded the room, and Danny winced at the abrupt change. Through his eyelids, he saw his mother rushing at him to pull him into a suffocating hug.

"Oh, thank God," Maddie was sobbing into his hair. "We wanted to find you, but Tucker said that you were at Samantha's house and that it would be too dangerous for you to travel all the way back, and that we all needed to get away—"

Out of the corner of his eye, Danny could see his best friend and his parents huddled together by a dim nook, next to a tired-looking Jack. As his mother led him over, Danny noted to some surprise that they were not alone; several people he recognized as his immediate neighbors were huddled in groups around the basement as well.

"Good, the generator still works," Jack stated as his wife and son joined him at his side. "I was afraid nothing would hold out. We better save this."

"Hold on, Jack, just – one minute," Maddie said wearily. She leaned over to inspect her son's dirtied face. "Danny, what happened? You look awful."

"I'm fine," Danny brushed off. Taking advantage of Maddie's close presence, he muttered to her, "What's going on here?"

Maddie pulled out a bunch of tissue papers from the depths of the purse she had lain on the worktable, rubbing the dirt away from Danny's cheek. "Everyone's been hiding here since the news broke. It's the only safe place that was accessible in a hurry."

"Good thing you didn't hide in the attic," Danny shuddered.

"Hmm? Oh no, dear, that wouldn't be safe," Maddie replied absently. "In a crisis like this, the best place you could possibly hide is underground. That's the sort of thing you learned early when you grew up in my day."

"Hey," someone croaked behind them. "Boy."

Danny turned to see a pudgy middle-aged man with thinning hair in the corner clinging on to two girls no older than ten staring pleadingly at him, "What's going on out there? You been there, haven't you? What's going on out there?"

"I…" Danny gave his mother an uneasy glance before turning back to the older man, "I, uh, think it stopped."

"What was it, kid?" the man pressed fretfully. "An attack? A ghost?"

"It wasn't a ghost!" a shrill woman from the opposite side of the room hollered, "I saw that video – it was a terrorist, wasn't it?"

"I—" Danny's eyes darted over to take in the frantic expressions of the men and women gathered around the lab; he couldn't tell any of them about the part he played in last night's events. "I – I'm sorry, I – I don't know."

But the crowd would not be sated. Several of them drew in, starting to close in on them, bombarding him with questions. "My daughter called me from across town, she said it was no ghost that did this!" "It was a man! He went on camera – we all saw it!" "How could one man have done something like that? It's not possible!"

The angry protests of the people compounded them, a cacophony of fear and disbelif swirling all around them, until finally one voice broke through to silence the crowd. "Stop! Stop! Stop! Stop!" Tucker hollered, shoving forward and waving the discontented figures away from where they had begun to corner them.

"Look, what does it matter?" he barked. "We've been waiting all night for news, and now Danny's here – Danny—" he spun around to face the teen, "—what did you see?"

"Uh…" Danny droned out. Tucker was kind of putting him on the spot here.

Tucker gazed meaningfully into his eyes. "You know," he prodded, "on your way over here from Sam's house … what did you see?"

Danny let out a huff of relief. "Not much…" he deliberated, then paused as eager faces drew closer.

He closed his eyes. It was better to tell them now, than to let them experience it without warning. "Everything's … gone," he stated baldly.

The words hung in the air for a moment.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" a voice from the back demanded angrily.

"Albert, shush!" a woman warned in a harsh and dry tone.

"Well, what's he talkin' about – 'everything's gone'?"

"Danny," Maddie said anxiously, "what are you talking about? What's happening?"

"Is it war?"

"No!" Jack responded loudly. "No one's at war here."

"I … don't think anything else is going to happen," Danny added after a moment.

"Well, what did you see?" Tucker persuaded. "We know we got hit outside, look!"

He pointed up at something beyond Danny's shoulder, so Danny twisted his body around to catch what Tucker was talking about.

His eyes locked on to a patch on the ceiling of the basement just over the staircase he had descended from. The rafters was curved outwards, no longer running straight overhead, giving the impression of almost breaking apart.

"That's where that white light passed through your house," Tucker informed grimly. "We were afraid the whole place was going to cave in, and it probably would have if we got hit a second time."

The two boys shared a dark look with each other, then Danny turned to face the rest of the group. Quickly, he snatched Tucker's arm and pulled him away. "Is this everyone from the street?" he questioned.

Tucker shook his head, keeping an eye out for anyone who might have been trying to eavesdrop on them. "Just the ones we could convince to come with us. Sam and I noticed from the footage Freakshow shot that the beam only breaks through a few centimeters when it hit the ground – so we decided that the safest place was to keep everyone in the basement. Some of your neighbors ran for it though. They didn't want to take the risk of remaining here."

"So no one else stayed?" Danny persisted. "Everybody either evacuated the area or came to hide down here … right?"

"I think so," Tucker shrugged. "I don't see why anyone would have chosen to stick around when everybody knows the Guys in White had a truck lodged here. Danny, what's going on?"

Danny took a moment to blink away the prickling sensation behind his eyes. "It doesn't … it doesn't look good, Tuck," he choked out. "The houses … everything up above has been hit. You wouldn't even recognize the area anymore."

He could feel Tucker's posture slacken, and realized belatedly that he was still clutching on to his best friend's arm.

"Where's Sam?" he managed after a moment, remembering to keep his voice down so the others wouldn't hear them.

"After you left, she dropped me off at your place and went back to her own," Tucker informed. "She said that she needed to make sure her family was okay, and that her place would be big enough to hide more people in."

"Have you heard from her?" Danny asked.

"We haven't heard from anyone all night!" Tucker dug into his pocket and pulled out his cellphone, raising it to Danny's face to show the raven-haired boy the dead coverage. "Some communication towers must have gotten knocked out while all this was going down."

Danny nodded, pushing Tucker's arm away. "Okay," he murmured. "Okay … so, we'll get everybody upstairs and then we'll drive down to Sam's and make sure everything's alright."

Tucker nodded and stared at Danny for a brief moment. "Is everything alright?" he questioned eventually.

"I stopped it, if that's what you're asking about," Danny replied quietly before turning around and stalking back to the others.

They journeyed up the wobbling staircase after Danny had given them some time to digest the report he'd told them about what remained of their homes, but it was still inadequate caution for the true reality of it. Danny's parents were the first to meet the ugly truth, as they took in the precise amputation of half of their estate, the bleak sunlight filtering through the hole just beyond the kitchen.

They were led out not through the front door but through the shattered wall adjacent to it, stopping to blink their eyes in adjustment after having spent the previous night ensconced within the shadows of the basement, and Danny was then treated to the shock and disbelief that flooded their eyes as they took in what was left of their once-quaint little suburb.

The retired couple who lived three doors over waddled away as fast as they could to assess the damage to their property. The single mother and her young son were hunched over in their yard now, grieving over their loss. Mr. Harrelson, the retired schoolteacher, who survived on a meager pension and the rates he received from renting out the room in his house, was shouting angrily to no one in particular as he gazed up at the demolition that had befallen his second floor. Danny couldn't stand to look, so he turned away.

"Come on, son," he heard Mr. Foley beckon. "Let's go back home."

"Oh … but …" Tucker hesitated, recalling his earlier agreement with Danny to check up on Sam.

"I'm sure the Fentons' would like to be alone," Mr. Foley said firmly. "Come on, dear, let's…" he paused when he caught sight of Mrs. Foley a few feet ahead, standing stock-still on the sidewalk.

"How are we going to get home?" she said blankly.

"What's that?" Mr. Foley raised his eyebrows.

"How are we going to get home?" she repeated, still not moving. "I can't find the car."

It was then that Danny realized that there was not a single car to be found lining the road, a strange sight for a residential area. Not only had the white van disappeared, so had all the other vehicles that Danny was accustomed to seeing parked along the houses. This statement seemed to have struck a second blow to all who had heard Mrs. Foley's words, and Danny's ears were filled with the discontented murmurings of the neighbors.

"How about we call a taxi?" Mr. Foley suggested.

"Reception's dead, remember?" Tucker pointed out in response.

Mr. Foley sighed. "Bus?"

Tucker snorted. "Today? Doubtful."

"Guess we'll have to walk then," came the defeated conclusion.

"I have a car," Danny said suddenly. "I parked mine in the garage Friday morning." He pointed over to the garage, the extension on the right that his parents had built a few years ago for the purpose of housing the Fenton R.V. "I could give you a ride if you want."

Old Mrs. Krendall, who lived at the other end of the street, piped up in a creaky voice, "But what are we supposed to do?"

Everybody gathered around turned to look over at her. She had her hands pressed against her heart, her walking cane dangling from one hand. "Everything's ruined," she burst out. "Where are we supposed to go?"

Chatter broke out again as everybody realized that this was something they had yet to discuss. Where were they supposed to go?

"Surely the city must have some sort of emergency drive for such a crisis as this," Maddie said. "Some sort of communal shelter organized for emergencies where everybody can congregate."

"We'd probably know about it if that blasted radio had worked – or if our cellphones had worked – or if there was any way of getting some word out that we're stuck here!" Maddie placed a consoling hand on his arm.

"We could try to scout for a place," Danny offered, gesturing to Tucker and himself. "You said that some of the neighbors evacuated the area, right? They must have gone somewhere to spend the night."

"I don't think you should, Danny," Maddie said doubtfully. "The roads are extremely dangerous right now."

"Yeah, there barely is a road anymore," Jack pointed out.

"I'm a careful driver," Danny brushed off. "Look, we need to travel somehow, don't we?"

There was no arguing this point; regardless of how bad road conditions were, the residents would still need to get to a safer location. Danny's parents, however, put their foot down at allowing him to drive. "You don't have the experience," his mother said bluntly. "There are two of us – your father will drive your car, and I'll take the rest along in the R.V." So it was with that that the Foleys squeezed in the backseat while Danny and Jack went in the front; behind them, Maddie slowly guided the van along the road, taking care not to slide the wheels along the slippery earth that remained exposed along the path. When finally they arrived at the Foley residence, Jack cut the ignition and let out a sigh of relief.

"Most terrifying drive I've ever had," he commented. "You are not driving this thing again until the roads are fixed."

The Foleys swung open the door and practically toppled out of the car in eagerness to get up close to their house.

"Danny," he heard Tucker say in amazement, "we weren't hit at all!"

It was true; the Foley residence looked as sturdy as ever, but as Danny made his way over to his friend's side, he had to take care once again not to slip on a patch of cracked pavement and dirt.

"This must be where the energy ray was coming in," Tucker observed as Danny scraped the mud off the soles of his shoes. "And here, look, this is the curve it made from when it swerved away – it must have changed direction just before it reached our house."

Mr. and Mrs. Foley were to the side, hugging one another. When they broke apart, Mr. Foley said to his wife, "Why don't you go inside and make sure everything's alright in there? Jack—" he turned to Danny's father. "I'm grateful for my home having been spared from last night's craziness, and I know never to accept good fortune without giving something in return. I'd like to come with you to organize those who lost their houses and direct them to a relief center."

"Great," Danny jumped on this suggestion at once, turning to his dad. "Then you two and go and do that, and Tuck and I here will go find Sam and keep looking for people who need help. You can use my car."

"Well, alright," Jack said. "Only because it's safer for you to be on your feet rather than in a car right now anyway."

The boys bade goodbye to their families, then proceeded to saunter away, waiting to get away long enough to hide from sight, before Danny transformed and took to their air, grasping on to Tucker's hand as they turned invisible.

"We lost the west wing, but no one was really using it anyway," Sam said easily as she led them through the entrance hall. Danny's eyes flicked over to the walls, checking for any structural damaged the family might have missed, but everything appeared to be fine.

"So it came through here?" Danny shook his head. "I can't imagine how terrifying that must have been."

"I can't imagine how terrifying it must have been to stop it," Sam returned. "We were all hiding in the cinema, first thing I did when I got home was wheel my grandmother out of the room and down below. Thank God for elevators, huh?"

Tucker and Danny shared a bemused look. "Yeah," the agreed flatly.

"Did you get your power knocked out?" Tucker questioned.

Sam shook her head. "No."

"What about your phone reception?"

"On my cellphone and one phone line, but we have multiple, so it didn't matter."

"Aw man," Tucker groused. "You rich people get everything."

Sam shrugged. "Dad always figured something like this was bound to happen, so he invested in making sure he could still work from home no matter what crisis Amity Park went through. He was so pissed off when the Ghost King held the town hostage – he had a shipment order to Milan he needed to keep track of."

"So have you gone outside yet?" Danny asked lethargically.

"I haven't dared," Sam stated. "Until you guys showed up, I was convinced this was the calm before the next storm. So … is it?"

"I don't think Freakshow will be trying anything again," Danny muttered, looking down.

There was a full moment of silence wherein the other two waited for him to explain what happened, but when Danny failed to reply, Tucker turned to Sam and said, "Well, if you've got a TV, what are we waiting for? I've been dying to catch the news."

Sam picked up the remote as she sat down on the overstuffed couch and flipped the television on. However, rather than the sharp, high-quality images that typically appeared, the screen was filled only with a fuzzy reception.

"Great," she said, flipping it off and tossing the remote down. "No reception."

"Don't you have satellite?" Tucker questioned.

"It got blown to bits along with the west wing."

"Awesome," Tucker sighed. "Our town's in ruins, we're stuck in the suburbs, and we're completely in the dark because we can't even find a single news segment that might clue us in to what's going on with the rest of Amity Park."

Danny shrugged as he tossed himself backwards upon the overstuffed armchair in the Manson's theater room. With no TV reception available, and unable to connect to anybody else with a working phone, there was little else to be done but sit around and wait. Danny's eyes surveyed the area, for lack of anything else to do, and noted the various textbooks and notepads that lay scattered around the floor.

"You know, there probably won't be any need for those anymore," he nodded over to a pile of books that had been tossed together haphazardly. At Sam's curious glance, he supplied further, "Casper High is gone."

This kernel of news clearly had a profound effect on the girl. Her amethyst eyes widened in shock.

"What?"

"It was one of the places I saw on the way back," Danny elaborated. Now that the truth of the situation had sunk in a little bit, he couldn't honestly say he had been surprised; his own parents had warned him that the Guys in White would probably be staking out every place that Danny frequented, including his school – not to mention that they had dragged both Kwan and himself out of classes before in order to interrogate them. Casper High was obviously meant to be one of the main targets of Freakshow's attack.

"But the good thing is," he added, "I don't think anyone got hurt – I didn't see any bodies when I went inside."

"What did it look like?" Sam pressed.

Danny shook his head, and looked down at the floor, unable to meet her eyes. "You don't want to know."

She would see it for herself soon enough anyway, he was sure.

Sam buried her head in her palms and began to suck in deep calming breaths, trying to stabilize herself against the reality of what was happening around them.

At that precise moment, there was a light tapping on the door, before it swung open to reveal a meek-looking woman dressed in uniform. "Miss Manson?" she ventured, "your parents have asked for all three of you to come upstairs, to the entrance hall." To Danny and Tucker, she informed, "Your fathers are waiting for you."

The Mansons' were gathered near the front doors together with Danny and Tucker's fathers, awaiting the trio. It was a sign of the troubling times that Jeremy Manson was able to look upon Danny with no trace of dislike marring his face. He simply gave the boy a curt nod as the three kids approached, and turned back to Jack.

Jack looked exhausted, and Danny couldn't help but wonder just how his father had managed to maneuver his car through the obstacle course on the way to town.

"We made it all the way to city hall," Jack declared as they were ushered to the dining room where lunch lay steaming. Tucker harrumphed when he noticed that his own concoction had not made it to the table, surmising that the cook must have thrown it out the moment he had left the kitchens. A few servants were gathered around, not bothering to hide their eagerness to learn about what was occurring outside of the suburbs. "There's a relief operation in works to provide shelter for anyone who has lost their homes."

"And where's mom?" Danny asked.

"Axion," Jack informed simply. "I'll be heading there next, and I can drop both of you back home on the way there," he nodded to Tucker and his dad.

"And what about the road conditions?" Pamela Manson questioned.

"Nothing to be done about that yet," Jack shook his head. "It's a big job – more potholes than asphalt all the way into the city. Right now, Ida Stubbs is trying to organize whatever resources we have available to provide for more immediate emergency efforts: housing, food, clothing, communiqué, that sort of thing."

"And what about—" all faces turned to a blushing maid who had suddenly spoken out, "—what about the people? The …" she seemed to have trouble getting the next few words out, finally stuttering, "…the dead people?"

All eyes turned back to Jack, whose face suddenly looked older and more lined than before.

"Death toll is still currently in its most rudimentary figures," Jack reported tiredly. "But from what I can gather, it's only climbing upwards. They're already making plans for a funeral procession to be in the next few days. They want the dead buried as soon as possible."

A bleak silence overcame the room as each person attempted to visualize the chaos that lay beyond their doors.

"Why are you guys going to Axion?" Danny asked his father. "Was it blown up too?"

"I hope not," Jack murmured. "We found out some of the experiments have gone missing, we need to do an inventory check."

Danny recalled then what the Box Ghost had said on the ship the previous night, how he had seen Technus stealing mortal technology in order to create the ray gun onboard the vessel. Then his eyes widened as his mind drifted back to his encounter with Freakshow. "I had Technus snatch it on the way out," he had gloated to Danny, brandishing the gun he had intended to kill him with. "So kindly contributed by the men and women of Axion Laboratories," he had said.

Danny narrowed his eyes. Freakshow's corpse still lay there, in Vlad's tower, no doubt with the gun still in his cold, dead hand. He had to get it back.

Jack was still talking, so Danny drew himself out of his reverie and brought himself back into the present.

"…heard that there's going to be mass funerals held all over town to accommodate the victims around the different parts of town," his dad was saying. "Father Julian is most likely going to be presiding over the ceremonies at His Shining Grace."

"I'm more concerned about the survivors to be honest," Sam said bluntly, causing her father to give her a glare for her disrespectful attitude, but to Danny's surprise, Pamela Manson nodded along with her daughter.

"Yes, the funerals are one thing – but what's more important is what can be done to help the survivors," she said. "I'm sure there's going to be more people who have lost their homes than any relief center can accommodate."

"Danny said you guys lost your place," Sam addressed Jack. "Where are you going to stay?"

"There'll be some camps set up in the city," Jack said. "We'll be moving what we can over there. Either that, or we'll set ourselves up in the Fenton R.V."

"Oh, nonsense Jack, don't be silly," Pamela chided. "Sleep in a car? You can't be serious."

"Pamela—" her husband said warningly.

"We won't hear of it," Mrs. Manson ignored him. "There's ample room in our house to accommodate you."

"No there isn't," Jeremy stated immediately. Feigning a look of deep apology on his face, he said to Jack, "Our place got hit too, you see – we lost the entire west wing…"

"Jeremy, please," Pamela rolled her eyes. "When was the last time you even stepped foot into the west wing? You'll hardly even notice it's gone. There are plenty of places we can put the Fentons' in. The south wing, for instance, you don't even like the décor there—"

"But it sounds as if Jack already has everything sorted out, we shouldn't get in the way of his plans…" Jeremy argued weakly.

Sam nodded. "You're right, dad," she said sweetly. "Maybe the Fentons' won't need our help after all. Their situation doesn't sound as dire as all the other hundreds of people who don't have an R.V. to stay in, we should probably open up our home to them—"

Jeremy's eyes widened in shock, and Sam and her mother shared a discreet smile with each other.

"Jack," Jeremy turned to the burly man beside him, "I absolutely insist your family stay with us during this difficult and troubling period, it's the least we can do for our dear friends…"

Jack looked uncertain. "I don't want to put anybody out," he started.

"You won't be putting anybody out," Sam assured quickly. "There's plenty of room, and I've stayed over at your place plenty of times—"

"You have?" Jeremy interrupted, a disapproving look on his face.

"—and plus," Sam ended brightly, "it'll be fun!"

"Well, I don't know," Jack said slowly. "I'd have to run it by Maddie first – what do you think, Danny?"

All eyes shifted over to him, and with a jolt, Danny found himself quickly browsing through his options. His parents staying alongside the Mansons meant an extra set of eyes on him at all times; but the Manson residence also afforded a lot more space and privacy in case he needed to transform; plus, Sam would be around him, which could only be a plus.

Feeling the weight of stares on his shoulders, Danny found himself hesitantly agreeing to the offer.

"Great!" Sam chirped. "So all we need to do is go over to your place and pick up some clothes and…" she trailed off, her brain catching up to her words, suddenly reminding her of the predicament they all found themselves in now. "Oh. Right."

There was a terse moment of silence in which none of the people gathered in the hall were able to look each other in the eye. Then, Danny said stoically, "I have clothes."

All eyes were on him again.

"Did you go up to your room earlier?" Jack frowned, puzzled.

"No," Danny clarified, "but I saw which parts of the house were still standing when I came to get you guys earlier. My bedroom's almost entirely gone, but the part where my closet is was still intact."

"But how are you going to get up there?" Jack questioned. "The staircase was blown up."

Danny waved his hand dismissively. "We'll find a way. I'm pretty sure there's a ladder stored somewhere down in the basement."

They argued over it a little bit more before Jack relented, warning Danny to be careful. "The ceiling could cave in on you at any moment, we don't know how stable it is," he said as Tucker and Mr. Foley began boarding the R.V. that would drop them back home. "But if you do manage to get upstairs … would you get us some clothes too?"

Danny smiled warmly after his father. "Sure, dad," he promised.

Jack grunted, reaching down and ruffling his son's messy hair. "Be careful of the road!" he hollered, before closing the door and pulling out of the Manson estate.

Danny watched them go from the drive way, his father struggling to maneuver the bulky vehicle he had arrived in back out the long but slender strip of concrete that led up to the Manson estate. Sam stood with him, her amethyst eyes bright as she waved them goodbye. Once they were gone, the two kids turned back around to face Jeremy and Pamela, who were already looking doubtfully at one another, silently wondering what to do with their daughter and her undoubtedly very hormonal male friend.

"Well … why don't you kids go watch some TV," Mrs. Manson suggested helpfully.

"Reception's knocked out," Sam stated, because it seemed like everyone was having a little trouble remembering the fact that they no longer had access to the luxuries they did only 24 hours ago. Before the elder Mansons' could suggest a different activity, Sam snatched up Danny's hand – Jeremy's eyes narrowed at this – and announced, "Danny and I are going for a walk."

"A walk?" Pamela sounded startled. "Why, don't be silly, Samantha; the roads aren't safe—"

Sam brushed off her mother's concerns easily. "The roads aren't safe for cars, maybe," she pointed out. "Nothing's going to happen while we stay on our own two feet."

The moment she said those last three words, Danny knew she expected him to fly. Inwardly, he groaned. Transforming into Danny Phantom was the absolute last thing he wanted to do right now, but if he knew Sam, she had already taken it for granted that he would be giving her the grand tour of their new landscape. Sam dragged him along until they had reached past the iron-wrought gates, pretending that her parents had bidden them a merry goodbye rather than desperately protest for her to reconsider.

"Thanks mom, but I'm way too full for dessert!" Sam called over her shoulder in response to Pamela's wail of, "Samantha, come back, the ground is probably weakened enough to break open under your feet and swallow you whole!"

"Sam," Danny started to say, "Whatever you're thinking—"

"Let's go see how the city looks!" Sam almost sounded excited by the prospect.

"No," Danny said firmly. "Sam, I don't want to go."

Sam blinked in surprise at this, her features expressing confusion. "You don't want to go?" she echoed blankly. "Why not?"

"Why not?" Danny raised his eyebrows, hardly believing what he was hearing. "Why not?"

"Look around, Sam!" he gesticulated. "What is it you want to look at?" Danny couldn't hide the anger boiling in his voice. "Is it the school? Do you want to see what it is that we have left of Casper High? Or go down to the city and count how many buildings are still standing? Or maybe we can go down to the park and try to clear away all of the uprooted trees!"

He was ranting, he knew it. But he couldn't help himself; he found her curiosity, her fascination, revolting. He knew he couldn't blame her for it; if their positions were reversed, if he had been the one sitting in a darkened basement last night while all of Amity Park collapsed around him, he would have been plenty curious too. But he hadn't been hiding – Danny had been the one out there fighting, trying not to acknowledge all of the carnage that was being wreaked under his very feet as he remained sheltered way up in the clouds. Didn't Sam understand that? Couldn't she comprehend just how battle-scarred last night had left him?

Suddenly, despite his earlier determination not to fly, Danny simply couldn't wait to get away from her. He spun around, disgust still evident in her voice. "If you want to take a tour of the new Amity Park, then be my guest," he spat. "But find yourself a different guide, because I'm not."

Sam stood stock still, and the shocked expression on her face etched itself into his brain as he shut his eyes to block out his surroundings. "I'm sorry, Danny," her voice floated softly to his ears. But Danny wasn't interested in apologies. Transforming into his ghostly alter-ego, Danny kicked himself off the pavement and soared into the air, leaving Sam behind to watch, a lonely figure staring up into the sky, and growing ever smaller standing against the expanse of the ruined mansion behind her.

From Sam's house bordering closer to the east, Danny mindlessly zoomed northwest closer to the rich side of town. He passed the gated communities placed on the outskirts and shot deeper into the heart of the more affluent neighborhoods, until finally he passed the lavish acres of the Sanchez residence to reach the more humble abode of the Baxters'. He was gratified to find that almost all the houses in this district appeared to have been relatively untouched. Landing in the bushes and hidden amongst the trees, Danny slipped back into his regular teenage form and peered through the thicket.

He had kept his mind carefully blank throughout the journey here, refusing to play back his one-sided argument against Sam over again in his head; he knew he was in the right, and that thinking about it would only serve to make him doubt that fact. He had also taken much effort to avoid thinking too much about where he was heading and what he was likely to find there. He couldn't, however, block the image of Dash's terrified face from entering his mind, recalling the last kiss they had shared behind the bleachers at Casper High's football pitch. From there, the gnawing doubt had crept into his heart, filling him with dread. What if Dash was…?

Danny shook his head. He was here now, and out of all the places he'd seen today, the rich side of town was undoubtedly the best one yet. As long as Dash had gotten back home last night, there was no reason to expect anything bad. None of the houses in this part of town had been affected. Seeing no one around, he summoned up his courage, and stepped forward to approach the door.

Clearing his throat, perhaps to put it off for a moment longer than necessary, he raised his hand to the front door of the Baxter residence and knocked.

There was a terse moment, one, two, three … Danny's shoulders slumped and he turned to go.

Then the door swung open so fast it almost snapped off its hinges, and Dash was standing there, his muscles tense, his hair tussled, his eyes red. Danny pivoted around on one foot and the two of them stared each other for one long moment.

Danny didn't know if he'd been the one to move or if Dash had come running to him, but before they knew it, both of them were in each other's arms clinging on tight, and everything felt right again.

"My dad went down to city hall to see what could be done," Dash explained later as he led Danny through the hall. "He's an engineer; he figures he should do all he can to help rebuild Amity Park. He didn't want to waste any time."

"But how is he going to get all the way down there with the road conditions?" Danny questioned.

Dash shrugged. "We've got a four-wheel drive so I guess it shouldn't be too much of a problem. They're supposed to be able to maneuver through all sorts of landscapes, right?"

"He'll definitely be putting that one to the test," Danny muttered darkly. "How's your phone?"

"Fine," Dash reported, nonplussed. "Why, how's yours?."

"Ours is probably buried somewhere beneath a pile of rubble," Danny stated. "But Tucker says he can't get any reception on his cell."

Dash nodded contemplatively. "Some communication towers must have gotten knocked out," he reasoned.

"That's the popular theory," Danny recalled Tucker saying the exact same thing. He couldn't help but wonder how many people were sitting up scared inside their homes, unable to call up their friends or the authorities, left to wonder if the destruction was over, or if they were in for more, too afraid to venture out of their homes or peek through their windows for fear they would die.

Returning back to the present, Danny found himself caught by the hard gaze emanating through icy blue eyes. Something in his soul stirred as Dash's fingers lifted to his face to gently card through his messy black locks.

"I thought you might have died," Dash said quietly.

"I was scared you might have too," Danny replied softly.

The silence of the room was compounded only by the cool breeze that wafted through the window, the thin white curtain fluttering as the wind brushed against it, the sunlight pouring through and bathing the room in an ethereal glow. But all Danny could see was Dash, hunched over low as his face drew closer, filling his vision until his eyelids fell closed, and then, finally, their lips met as the two lovers shared their first tender kiss.

And to Danny, it was more precious than even the first kiss they had ever shared.

It was incredible, how much they had missed each other even though they had only been apart for a couple of hours since Danny had last entered the Baxter residence, but the absence had been felt all the same, and was reflected in the passion of their kiss. Dash's fingers crept their way to Danny's jawline, tipping his head up to deepen the kiss, Danny's mouth falling open so that Dash could run his tongue against the roof of his mouth, tickling Danny's teeth and flirting with the tip of Danny's own tongue. Danny clasped his hands upon Dash's shoulders, eventually wrapping his arms around the width of Dash's broad shoulders as he began to lose himself in the heat of the moment.

The moment was soon interrupted, to both boys displeasure, by the shrill ringing of the telephone. As if by instinct, the two of them jumped away from each other as though burnt. Danny was huffing for air, his chest heaving, while Dash collected himself and smoothed out his hair, darting a look over to the next room where the phone was sounding off. "I'd better get it," he decided. "It might be my dad."

Danny nodded quickly, mirroring Dash's actions by smoothing out his messy locks as well. He took the opportunity while Dash was away to gaze around the living room, taking in the décor, which was a bit more plain and down-to-earth than what he'd seen before in Sam or Paulina's houses. The couches looked comfortable and well-worn, as though the family regularly sat down to watch TV together, there was a modicum of clutter spread throughout the place, just enough to make one feel at home; Danny could see pictures on the mantelpiece that chronicled the Baxters throughout Dash's life. The first few showed Mr. and Mrs. Baxter posing with a little boy with a wide, toothless grin and a mop of disheveled blond hair; then the more serious pictures as Dash went through his teenage phase when he, apparently, refused to smile for the camera, instead maintaining a stoic countenance, until finally, when Danny's eyes travelled to the last picture framed for display, of Dash and his father standing together, hands behind their backs, with false cheer written all over their features. Danny picked up this picture, careful not to smudge the glass, inspecting the photo within.

This was how Dash found him when he walked back into the living room, his footsteps jerking Danny out of his thoughts and forcing him to place the picture back on the mantel, a guilty expression on his face. He turned to make some excuse to Dash, some lie about not having just been caught snooping, but the words never got a chance to escape his mouth, flying out his brain as he took in the look of uncertainty and apprehension that the jock wore.

"What's the matter?" Danny asked, his voice ringing loud and hanging in the air.

Dash, who had been gazing forlornly at the ground, raised his baby blue eyes to meet Danny. His hands were clasped together, and he was twiddling his thumbs, clearly wanting to say something but not knowing how.

There was another moment of silence before Dash decided he had to speak. "That was Mister Lancer," he informed.

"Oh," Danny replied blankly. Then he cringed. "Oh. Was it about the school? I saw it earlier this morning, it looks pretty bad, but it's not like it was completely demolished or anything; a lot of the area was still standing. I'm sure rebuilding won't be as hard as it looks—"

"No, it wasn't that," Dash interrupted in a strange, quiet tone. Danny lapsed into silence, not knowing what else to offer.

"Well, what then?" he pressed.

Another pause, and then Dash raised his eyes to lock on to Danny once again. He opened his mouth to speak, but was obviously having trouble forming the words. His hands were clasped even tighter now as he tried to vocalize what he had just been told. "Danny…"

"Principal Ishiyama is dead."

The statement lingered above them long after it had been said. Danny stared at Dash, unable to move, unable to think. Dash shuffled his foot awkwardly, not daring to take his eyes off the smaller boy now that he had gotten his attention.

"They pulled her body out of her house this morning," Dash continued in that foreign toneless voice of his.

"Lancer said she had skipped the football game so that she could relax at home. He's guessing that she never got a chance to see that video everybody else did at the football pitch, and by the Dashtime she had realized that something was wrong, it would have probably been too late to evacuate the area.

"She was on the second floor of her house when it started collapsing. She wasn't touched by that … thing – that white light – but when the house began to collapse, she…

"She just didn't make it.

"I'm sorry, Danny."

The sky was fully overcast by the time Dash Baxter hung up the phone on a worried Samantha Manson. The girl had been livid, but incredibly worried about her friend; from what Dash could gather from their somewhat stilted conversation, the Fentons' had made prior arrangements to stay with the Manson family for the time being, and would be, Sam had told him, wondering where Danny was before long.

Well, it didn't appear that Danny would be content to leave so soon. The raven-haired teen was currently curled on one end of the couch, draped in the throw rug Dash had thrown around him about an hour or so ago when the shaking had begun to wrack through the smaller boy's body.

Danny had not said a single word in two hours.

Dash rubbed at his eye tiredly, trying to figure out what to say that he hadn't already said before.

"It wasn't your fault," he said softly.

To his surprise, this time he got a cold acknowledgment for his troubles. "Yes, it was," Danny said shortly.

Harkened by the fact that Danny was now speaking again, Dash started forward, carefully placing himself at the edge of the loveseat. Danny's blue eyes shifted over to him before glaring back down at the upholstery again.

"You did everything you could."

"You said that already," Danny responded.

"That's because it's true!" Dash exclaimed, raising himself up and towering over the other man.

Danny looked up at him again, but this time, his gaze wavered with the onslaught of blooming tears, and his brows curled downwards in misery.

"Is it?" he asked quietly.

Dash smiled encouragingly at him. "How could it be?"

It sounded like an innocent enough question, something Dash had only said to appeal to Danny's sense of logic – to make him see that he had done everything he could to save Amity Park; that he was blameless.

Danny stared at him a moment longer, then looked away. Then, in a whisper, he confessed:

"Because I knew him."

This threw Dash off. "What?"

"I knew him," Danny repeated, his voice blank, almost as if he was talking to himself. "The man who was on the video last night. I knew who he was. I met him before, and I knew what he was capable of. I saw him at the funeral for Vlad Masters the week before the football game. I knew he was in town, and I knew how violent and insane he was. I knew what he was capable of doing, and I knew he was in Amity Park.

"And I did nothing."

Danny turned to face him again, a hard look on his face. "Try to justify that for me," he bit out.

Dash was at a loss for words.

Danny buried his head into the crook of his arms, his words now muffled by the throw rug around his knees. "It's my fault Amity Park lost everything."

They remained in silence after that, and it seemed that the room grew almost imperceptibly darker as the clouds outside gathered stronger to block out the weak sunlight. The only sounds to penetrate through Dash's consciousness was the sound of Danny's deep breaths, amplified louder by the reigning silence that loomed over their heads.

Staring out the window at the cul-de-sac that comprised his neighborhood, Dash worked his brain to find some way to prove to his lover that he wasn't at fault. It was going to be a monumentally difficult task. Not only was Danny convinced that he was to blame for the events that took place the previous night, but his logic was hard to crack. But Dash knew, he knew, that Amity Park would have been left in far worse ruins had they not had Danny Phantom to come to their aid.

His eyes drew upwards, where he could only just see the clouds drifting by.

And then, as though by some miracle, he had an idea.

Turning around to face Danny once again, Dash reached out and curled his fingers gently around the other boy's wrist, pulling Danny out of his thoughts.

"Come with me," he ordered quietly, already starting to lead the way up the stairs and into his bedroom. Danny followed docilely, but let out a sigh when he realized where Dash had taken him.

"Dash, I'm really not in the mood..." he started the protest. Dash ignored him, letting go of his hand and striding past the bed to where the window was, and with one shove, swung the French doors open to reveal the sight of the hazy blue clouds gathered up above. He turned to glance back at Danny over his shoulder with a devilish smile. In a deliberately slow motion, he began to stick his leg out of the window, hoisting himself up on the sill and slipping off the other side.

"What are you doing?" Danny cried out in alarm. "Dash!"

Dash disappeared from view, prompting Danny to stumble forward, shocked, peering over the edge to see where his boyfriend had gone.

Dash was waiting for him just below, balancing himself upon the shingles of the slanted roof underneath the window. Danny stared, jaw hanging open.

"Nothing to worry about," Dash said softly. "Come and join me."

Danny hesitated. "I don't think we should..."

"Danny," Dash said patiently, the smile still not moving from his face, "I've done this a million times – and I know you've done way worse."

Danny hesitated another moment, then carefully threw one leg over the windowsill, jumping down and landing on his feet in a manner so agile Dash could only marvel.

"What are we doing?" Danny inquired when he finally reached Dash's brawny frame. In response, Dash got down to his knees and folded them so that he was perched in a sitting position on the roof, looking at Danny expectantly. Danny blinked, then did the same, relaxing his posture and leaning backwards so that his skin rubbed against the rows of cold shingles. The two boys kept their eyes trained on each other the entire time until Dash finally broke his gaze.

"Look." Danny followed his line of sight, and found him staring up at the swill of clouds in the distance. He turned to ask Dash what exactly was so special about this phenomenon, but the blond-haired boy was still leaning against the roof, staring reverently up at the skies.

"Sometimes," Dash said after a moment, "when I felt as though the world was closing in on me and there was no escape, I open the windows and climb out here and stare up into the night. It reminds me that the world is too big and open to ever collapse in on me."

It was only four in the afternoon, but you wouldn't be able to tell; shadows covered the earth, masking the perfectly sculpted landscape in shrouds of darkness. Danny watched as the clouds rotated in the sky, his mind wandering back his plea to Vortex to end the horrors they had endured. "What do you see?" he heard Dash ask, his voice sounding muted and far away. "Look up at the sky – what do you see?"

"They look just like they did last night," he blurted out. Dash turned to look curiously at him, patiently waiting for him to elaborate.

"Did you see them?" Danny asked quietly. "Did you look at the clouds last night?"

"No," Dash admitted. "I got back home and my dad and I locked ourselves in the rec room. I couldn't see anything."

Danny nodded, offering no more words. He recalled the way Vortex had commandeered the clouds to surround the ghost ship, the way the grey puffs had swirled around the green vessel over and over, until they encapsulated them. Looking at them now, it occurred to him that the clouds were behaving the same manner, completely out of the ordinary. Dash wouldn't have realized, and perhaps no one else would have either. But Danny did.

He knew this meant that Vortex was still out there, maintaining his vigil over the skies.

"All I see are stormclouds," Danny stated honestly.

As if in acknowledgment, the sky rattled and boomed with thunder. Dash chuckled.

"I see those too," he said, raising his hands behind his head and studying the sky with a look of concentration; "but," he pointed, "I also see glimpses of the sun breaking past the clouds; I see rays of sunlight shining down through the edges; I see the clouds moving past and trying to block it out – but whenever they pass through, I see the slightest breaks between the darkness where the light permeates through."

He straightened up, leaning forward and surveying the horizon.

"I see the sun highlighting the mountains at the edge of town; I see pink and orange hues shading the sky."

"And I see stormclouds," he concluded, turning his head to glance over at Danny before returning his attention back; "but I also see edges of around each cloud – little bits of the sun that the clouds are too weak to ever obscure, no matter how dark they might grow.

"It makes me realize that no matter how ugly things might get, this world is too beautiful for ugliness to cloud over."

When Dash turned to look at Danny again, he found the other boy keeping his eyes steadfastly on him. He gave Danny a gentle smile.

"Stormclouds come and go, Danny," he said quietly. "But they don't stay forever. They make their presence known, they pass over, and the sun comes back out again, and when it does, everywhere you look, you will see what is so beautiful about this world. That beauty can be hidden away – but it can never disappear. It always comes back to show itself again."

They lay there in silence together until Danny leaned forward and captured Dash's lips in a soft, promising kiss. It was the first time, Danny realized, that he had ever been the one to kiss Dash rather than the other way around. Danny was grateful. Dash's presence and his poetry had managed to find a way to alleviate the burden in his heart, and he was grateful.

And if anyone had dared to venture out of their homes that afternoon, what they saw would not have been a sight of destruction and devastation, but the sight of two people on the topmost plateau sharing their love as rays of sunlight broke through the clouds to shine down upon them.

Danny didn't leave the Baxter home that night. When they returned inside the house, he placed a call to the Mansons' and informed his parents that he would be staying with a friend that night. They had agreed, mainly because night was coming and they felt it too dangerous for their son to be walking on the streets at this time.

Dash and Danny had spent the evening in bed talking, assuaging the worry they felt by simply kissing their fears away. When the sun began to set, they drew the curtains and lay in bed with the darkness surrounding them, not an obtrusive darkness, but a comfortable one – the kind they had grown used to in all the days they had fought to keep their love a secret from invading eyes.

When Dash's fingers crept down to the hem of his shirt, Danny allowed them to without question. When Dash drew his shirt off his body, Danny relished in the sensation of his skin beginning to burn. And when Dash moved his lips away from Danny's mouth to tenderly brush against the delicate region of his neck, Danny closed his eyes and let himself drown in the sensation of being alive.

Danny slipped his hand down to pull away at Dash's own clothes, the two boys breathing heavily into each others faces, never releasing contact for even just a moment, as though they were afraid of being unable to touch. Dash wrapped his muscular arms around Danny's slender back, falling into the pillows and pulling Danny on top of him so that they rubbed against each other, biting out maudlin sentiments of affection into damp skin. Danny kissed at the sweat that ran down the valley of his lover's chest, ears pricking at the delicious moans he heard above him. When he sank deep into Dash, he drank in the lustful whispers that filled the air, and when he began to thrust, the sound of his name spilling from Dash's lips was his aphrodisiac. And when he crumbled down upon Dash after they had reached completion, and Dash's arms wrapped around his shoulders again, Danny felt safer than he had thought he could ever comprehend.

The next morning, Danny awoke in Dash's arms, causing the other boy to stir and blink his eyes open as Danny slipped out of his hold. Dash raised himself up in the bed and let out a tremendous yawn as he began to stretch. Danny observed his surroundings, noting with some pleasure that the room was no longer as dark as it had been the previous afternoon. Sunlight streamed through the drawn curtains, lighting the room up with a pale hue. Dash blinked away the last vestiges of sleep and glanced back at Danny with a soft smile.

"Hey," he greeted, rubbing at the bruise on his neck that Danny had given him just a few hours before. "How do you feel?"

"Better," Danny told him. It was true. Last night had been of great comfort to him, not just because of sex, but simply because he had been reunited with his boyfriend and graced by his presence.

"I should get back to Sam's," he sighed, not wanting to leave. He had never spent any great length of time in Dash's room before. He'd been in there perhaps once back when he was fourteen, but now that their relationship had changed from one of animosity to affection, he felt much more comfortable being in this room than he had been before.

"You don't have to just yet," Dash offered. "You could stay a little longer – the next time we see each other will probably be at the funeral, right?"

Danny nodded, looking away. There was a pause between them before Dash spoke again.

"That is … if you're going," Dash ventured.

Danny still refused to look at him.

"Are you?" he asked intrepidly.

"I want to," Dash said. "I want to be a part of this. Don't you?"

Danny didn't respond. Somehow he didn't need to. Dash would draw his own conclusions.

He felt the other boy lean forward and place a kiss on his cheek before sliding off the bed, pulling open his closet and throwing on a light shirt and pair of sweatpants. Danny watched him do so with great interest. "It's almost noon. How about I go down and make us some lunch?"

Dash ambled over to the windows, pulling the curtains apart while Danny ducked under the covers in haste to find his clothes. He had never felt comfortable walking around naked with the windows open, even in the instances when he knew no one would be able to see him.

"Danny," he heard Dash's voice call out. The blond stood stock-still at the window, a look of shock on his face. "It's snowing."

Dash and Danny spent the day looking out the windows watching the unexpected snowfall cycling through various emotions. Danny silently wondered what it was that Vortex was playing at, having no doubt in his mind that the ghost was the one responsible for the sudden change in weather. Dash proposed that it was a form of a nuclear winter as a result of yesterday's catastrophic events.

Their theorizing was interrupted when the telephone in the living room gave a shrill ring. Dash sighed and pulled himself away from Danny, wrapping a robe around himself and leaving to pick up the call. Danny gave some thought to making a call to Sam's house, wondering if his parents would request him to come back immediately in light of the snow, or if they would rather him not take the risk. Part of him hoped for the latter, if only because he was not ready nor willing to leave Dash's side just yet. But then, he chided himself, that was probably them calling on the phone right now.

But it wasn't Danny's parents who had just called, as he found out when Dash came back into the room.

"That was Father Julian," Dash informed, referring to the wizened old man who had led the memorial for Vlad Masters. "He wanted to know if I would be a pallbearer because they're going to need all the help they can get with the procession. He wanted to know if I would be available to come in early."

Danny frowned. "Early? What do you mean?"

Dash looked somewhat apprehensive as he said, "It seems that no one knows how long this snowstorm is going to last; after what happened last night, no one is sure of what the weather is going to bring. So it looks like they've decided to move the funerals forward … to tonight."

"Tonight!" Danny yelped. "What – why are they holding the funerals tonight?"

"They're not sure if this weather is going to get worse, and they don't want to risk the ground freezing over before they start the burials. They want to get it done while the soil is still malleable enough to move around."

"So what time are they going to be held?"

"Six," Dash stated grimly.

"Well, when would you have to leave?"

"Only about an hour or two earlier,"Dash told him. "Father Julian needs me to help carry the..." he gestured lamely with his hands, trying to find some way to soften the next word, but was unable to find a way around it, "to carry the coffins. After the prayers, that is.

"And he also asked if I could come in beforehand to help lead the choir."

To his own surprise, Danny let out a bark of laughter at this. It poured out of him, until he was rolling on the bed with his stomach hurting. Dash glared down upon him.

"Oh my God," he gasped out. "I forgot you used to be a choirboy." Those days had been the best. It was perhaps the only time in his life Danny had looked forward to going to church on Sunday back when his parents had tried to instill faith into Jazz and himself. He had derived endless pleasure sitting in the pews, trying to catch Dash's eye so as to openly smirk while the blond boy had been stuck on stage singing hymns in a high, almost girlish tone with a group of other children clad in white gowns. Dash rolled his eyes.

"Shut up," he groused, shoving playfully at the superhero. "I'll have you know I was the best choir boy in the damn place. Father Julian never forgot."

"I'm sure he didn't," Danny grinned mischievously. "Did Father Julian give you a big reward for being such a good boy?"

Dash growled and proceeded to pounce on Danny, tickling his sides while the smaller teen yelped and thrashed with uncontrollable laughter underneath him. The tickles tapered off slowly as Dash began to place feather-light kisses all over Danny's face, prompting Danny to drop his teasing in order to return his affections.

"I should go home," Danny sighed once Dash pulled away from him. "I told my parents I'd get us some clothes from our house. They probably slept in their jumpsuits last night."

Dash snickered. "Oh yeah, your parents jumpsuits. Man, those are tacky."

"You seemed to like it when you were wearing one yourself."

"Well, anything looks good on a body like this," Dash bragged, causing Danny to roll his eyes and push the bigger boy off his body. "When will you be back?"

"I don't know," Danny admitted. "I'll have to bring our stuff over to Sam's place, and they'll probably want me to spend the day there. I might have to come to the funeral with them."

Dash reached out and squeezed Danny's hand. "Then I'll see you there?"

Danny gave the jock a long, hard look.

"Yeah," he finally said. "Yeah, you will."

Dash gave his hand another squeeze. "I'm glad."

As much as Danny would have liked to hide away and pretend nothing had happened, he knew he couldn't allow himself to do so. He owed it to the people of Amity Park to pay his respects. It was his duty, as much as fighting the ghost army and Freakshow had been his duty. With heavy shoulders and a heavy heart, he bade Dash goodbye with a lingering kiss.

Outside was dreary and cold, far too cold for Danny to withstand walking in the snow. So, making sure nobody was watching, he ducked back into the bushes and transformed once more, taking off into the skies in the direction of his home.

Though it was only the middle of the afternoon, the sudden bout of snowfall had all but eclipsed the sun, turning the world around him so dark and dim that it imitated the onset of evening. Danny shivered as he shot through the air, considering perhaps flying up into the clouds one more time just to see what it was that Vortex was playing at with this mysterious change of weather. It wasn't snow Amity Park needed; the only thing that could quell the acrid smoke that rose up on the horizon from the scorching heat of the white beam was rain.

But when he glanced upwards, he knew it was a lost cause; the clouds hung in the sky like a great cloak, vast and impenetrable. Vortex was clearly not in the mood for anymore trespassers.

Snow was starting creep into the shell of the former townhouse the Fentons' had lived in. Danny landed on the second floor of the house, where the bedrooms were located, just underneath the laboratory in the attic. The staircase had fallen away, swept up by the destruction, and two walls had been taken out, exposing the front of the house to the street, and utterly removing what was once his sister's room out of existence.

Shaking the snow out of his already white hair and shrugging off the buildup upon his shoulders, Danny took a look around him. It was quiet; deathly quiet. Furniture had been tossed to the side, no doubt from the tremors that had shaken the very foundation of the houses in the area. Danny stepped gingerly over them, making his way to his parents bedroom, which was the only bedroom left in the house that remained completely intact, though the furnishings in there had been strewn haphazardly as well. Ducking under the frame of the king-sized bed where the suitcases were stored, Danny heaved one out and laid it upon the mattress, swinging the largest compartment open, then wrenching the doors to the closet apart, before carelessly tossing in bundles of clothing over his shoulder where they landed into the waiting carrier.

He worked unseeingly, trying to block his mind from the task he was performing, but finally, when he turned around and found that he had thrown too much into the luggage bags, he paused, standing over the suitcase blankly.

Unbidden tears sprang into his eyes, turning his vision blurry. Danny anxiously tried to blink them away, but it seemed that only encouraged them to seep through and roll down his cheek, surprisingly warm against the biting cold of sudden winter.

Once the floodgates had been open, there was no stopping the dam. Within moments, Danny's tears were streaming freely down his face; his knees buckled, and he collapsed to the floor, leaning against the sturdy bedframe as sobs wracked through his body, causing his shoulders to heave with effort. Danny buried his face into his gloved hands, unable to mask the wails of sorrow that rang through the ruined household any longer.

It was not a matter of self-control that finally caused the tears to stop; Danny didn't know how long he had been left sitting there to wallow in his misery, but when his breathing finally mellowed, and his tear ducts dried, he knew it was simply because he had no more will left to cry in him.

Shakily, he got to his feet, his legs trembling and threatening to drop his weight again. Determinedly, he pressed down hard upon the large suitcase, forcing it down over and over again until finally he managed to get enough of a hold on the zipper to lock the compartment stuffed full of his parents clothes. There were still quite a few items left in the closet they shared, but for now, Danny decided this was enough. Now it was time for him to pack his own clothes into his own suitcase before hauling out.

Stumbling out into the corridor, he hesitated as his eyes landed upon the doorway that led to his room. What would be left of it, the room he had once been able to call his sanctuary?

Numbly he pushed open the door with the lightest of bumps from his fingertips. As though hypnotized, Danny watched hazily as the door swung gently backwards, like a dream, welcoming him to his own private hell.

The first impression Danny got, looking through the small rectangular portal his doorway had opened up to was that his room had been left completely unscathed. He could hardly believe his eyes.

The illusion was firmly dispelled, however, when he stepped through the pathway and got a full view of his bedroom. Or what was left of it. Danny felt breath leave his body in a small huff of shock. The small entryway that he had stepped through was all that remained of his former room. Beyond what was now a small ledge that had previously served as the carpeted flooring was left nothing more than a view into the great wide view of the open world that stretched the distance as far the eye could see. Behind where Danny stood were the built-in robes that had served as his clothes closet, the only remaining feature of his room.

The area where his bed had once stood was gone. The desk, and the schoolbooks he had left on it in his failed attempts at revision, was nowhere to be found. Neither were the windows that had once been directly across the bed, the ones he used to sneak out through during the night in order to conduct his nightly patrol while his parents slept. The tree directly outside the window, the one he would use to gain his footing on when climbing in or out of his room had vanished entirely. The adjoining bathroom, his most luxurious amenity, had disintegrated into nothing. Not even the water pipes that had been connected to where the shower, toilet and sink once were remained. Everything that had been touched was now simply … gone.

The ledge that Danny stood on gave a loud groan, and, as he stumbled back, he watched in mute fear as a small jagged piece under the sole of his boot crumbled away under his weight. Danny shoved himself backwards, landing on his tailbone with a grunt in his hurry to get away. He paused. There was only silent stillness.

Scrambling back up to his feet, Danny decided to waste no further time. He spun around quickly to the built-in closet behind him, thankful that his clothes had, at the very least, been spared. Raising himself on the very tips of his toes, he grunted as he flung the topmost cupboard open and dug out for his very own suitcase stored within, dropping it to his feet before edging away from one of the doors so as to give it enough space to open without nudging Danny himself closed to the edge.

Once this task was done, Danny quickly set himself about with hastily pulling out his clothes and throwing them to the floor carelessly. He stopped only when he found what he required the most: a sombre black jacket and matching fitted trousers, gifted to him by his parents for more formal occasions – occasions such as funerals. He had worn it to Vlad's memorial, and would certainly be expected to wear it tonight, no doubt.

Gazing into the depths of his closet, Danny once more reached inside and gingerly pulled out a small item he had captured within the confines of his fingers: Poindexter's bowtie.

Danny let out a small shuddering breath as his fingers closed over the cummerbund. He hadn't seen the tie since the night of the Prom. Briefly he thought of Kitty and Ember, and wondered if any of the ghosts would show up – perhaps to pay respects to the innocent bystanders they had killed in their misguided venture.

Danny pivoted on his feet, turning to face the suitcase he had placed to his left, and let out a cry as his foot shot out too far, slapping against the suitcase with the side of his shoe, and causing it to jolt backwards, where it wobbled on its side before toppling over the ledge and falling to the depths below. Danny watched this, his eyes frozen on the spot where his suitcase had just been a moment ago.

The ledge underneath his feet gave a loud groan, and without even pausing to think, Danny reached down and grabbed as many clothes as he could in one hand before taking off, shooting out of the room and into the hallway just as the part of the ledge he had previously been standing on broke apart, taking several of the clothes that remained on the floorboards with it.

Heart pounding in his chest, Danny glanced down to take stock of what he had managed to snatch up. He counted out a couple of T-shirts, a few pairs of jeans, and the suit he had chosen to wear to the funeral. Danny rolled his head back upon his shoulders and let out a low groan.

He didn't dare return into the bedroom, instead choosing to pile the clothes together with those stored in his parents suitcase, opting to turn them intangible so that he fell through the plastic barrier and settled comfortably inside the compartment.

When he was done, he let out a weary sigh and raised his eyes upwards. There was only one thing left to do now.

The ladder that led up to the attic had been wiped when the house had been struck, making the laboratory that was housed upstairs inaccessible to most people. For Danny, however, being that he wasn't very much like most people, simply needed to raise himself into the air slowly, turning intangible as he went, so that his head sank through the top of the second floor and through to the ceiling of the attic. When he had gotten to his feet, he returned to his corporeal state once more, eyes sliding about to take in his surroundings.

Like the rest of the house, sections of the third floor had been affected by the attack. Walls melted into jagged edges halfway along the layout, and the floor was in a similar state. The sophisticated supercomputers his parents had designed had disappeared along with half of the room, leaving only one small lonely worktable left behind. Danny reached out for the small green telephone that was placed on the desk, bringing the receiver up to his ear. No dial tone.

Surveying the scene of devastation around him, Danny sent out a small prayer of thanks that the item he was searching for had not been hidden in the half of the room that had been hit by the great white beam.

The half of the attic that still remained was shrouded in darkness. Snow was drifting in more easily here, tinging the tile floor with a light coat. Danny felt a little shiver run down his spine, which he attributed to his body simply reacting to the abnormality of snowfall in late April.

Lowering himself to his knees, Danny dug underneath a pile of forgotten papers his parents had been building up for years, feeling past each loose sheaf until finally, his palms clamped onto something cold and metallic. Danny yanked the small object out of its hiding place, a rectangular artifact, topped with a lone green button, containing the spirit of one Vlad Plasmius.

Danny brought the container closer to his face for inspection. It looked exactly as it had the day he had left it there. He had demanded that Sam, to whom he had entrusted the container, return it back to him and had decided it would be safer up here, in the attic his parents hardly ever went up to anymore, than his bedroom where any ghost was liable to sneak in and snoop around.

Now that his house had been left only half-standing, it was no longer a safe place to hide the Plasmius soul.

Bundling the container with some spare cloth always to be found lying around, Danny phased back down to the second floor and hoisted the heavy suitcase over his shoulder with ease, taking care to have the box fastened securely in the crook of his arm before taking flight again.

Sam's heels clacked on the marble floor as she made her way to the foyer, grumbling to herself as she attempted to fasten her earrings without the aid of a mirror. Up until last year, her parents had refused to let her pierce her ears, recommending that she stick to clip-ons instead. Now that she had finally been permitted to wear real jewellery, she found the task of slipping them into her lobes to be an extremely arduous task, especially at times like these when she couldn't watch her reflection to guide her.

She paused as she entered the living room in the main hall, her eyes zooming in on Jack and Maddie Fenton standing close together and discussing something in low, troubled voices.

"Are you guys going like that?" she broke through their conversation, gesturing to the dirty jumpsuits her friend's parents were currently dressed in.

Maddie turned her eyes on to Sam. "Danny was supposed to bring us some clothes, but we haven't heard from him since last night."

The previous night, Dash had made a call to the Manson residence and informed Sam that Danny would be spending the night in his house rather than hers, citing road conditions as the reason why Danny would not be able to travel. Sam had had to fight down the urge to demand to speak to Danny herself and remind him of his ability to fly, thus rendering the condition of the roads to simply be that of a minor inconvenience to him.

"Still not back yet, huh?" Sam mused. "Is he meeting us at the church?"

"We're not sure," Mr. Fenton shrugged. "We haven't been able to get in contact with him."

"Jack, I'm not sure we should go," Maddie sighed, rubbing at her face worriedly. "We haven't seen Danny all night, and now this strange snowstorm … I have a bad feeling that grows inside me every time I look out that window."

"I'm not so sure myself," Jack muttered, his eyes redirecting themselves to the window at his wife's mention. "All I want is to make sure he's safe."

"He's safe," Sam assured quickly. Jack and Maddie turned curious eyes on her.

"Really?" Maddie asked. "Did you speak to him? Did he call?"

"I don't think his cellphone has reception at the moment," Sam excused. "But, hey, you know what they say, no news is good news, right?"

"In this case, I'm not so sure," Maddie stated grimly.

The three of them paused when they heard the sound of footsteps approaching, revealing Jeremy and Pamela Manson, dressed in fine garments of black.

"Well, are we ready?" Jeremy questioned, his eyes roving from his daughter to the two guests they were harboring. He frowned.

"Jack, Madeline – I thought you would be done getting prepared."

"Danny isn't back yet," Sam explained.

"He was meant to bring us some clothes last night, but he couldn't make the journey back, and we haven't heard from him all day," Maddie added, distressed.

Samantha's parents shared a troubled look.

"So where do you think he might be?" Pamela clutched on to her husband's arm.

"We hope he's with Dash," Sam bit out. "Speaking of which, I should call him right now—" Dash Baxter had been the only person with a working telephone and a means to connect to the Mansons' last night, which was the only reason why Sam had agreed to allow him to keep Danny at his place for the night. Had she known Danny had not even so much as alerted his family to his whereabouts all day meant something.

"But we should go out looking for him," Pamela recommended. Jeremy stared at his wife.

"Pamela! We have no idea where the boy is—"

"Samantha said that he was with this boy, Dash—"

"We don't know where that boy, Dash, lives—"

"Nonsense, I'm sure Samantha is familiar with the route—"

"Actually, I'm not really sure—" Sam interjected.

"The funeral starts in less than an hour, as it is that's barely enough time to get there given how carefully we need to be driving—"

"What's more important, Jeremy, attending a memorial for a hundred lost souls, or trying to save one soul if we even have the remotest chance—"

"Why don't you two go on to the funeral, and we'll go looking for Danny?" Jack tried to suggest.

"I'll help," Sam volunteered eagerly, already starting for the front door.

"Samantha, stay here!" Jeremy commanded.

Sam flung the door open.

"Oh!" she jumped back, taking in the sight of a dishevelled Danny Fenton staring back at her.

"Danny!" Maddie exclaimed. "Where were you all day? We were so worried."

Danny stalked in quietly, a suitcase hanging off his fingertips in one hand. He set it down on the floor with a loud thump. "I was at the house," he said in a low monotone. "I needed a little time. Sorry."

No one could think of a way to respond to that. Finally, Jeremy Manson clapped his hands together and cleared his throat.

"Wonderful," he said. "Now that we're all here – why don't the three of you get ready and we'll all leave together. Try to be quick, won't you?" he spun around on his heel and returned to the alcoves of his mansion. "Come, Pamela!"

When her parents had gone, Sam tugged at Danny's elbow. "Come on, you can use my shower," she said. "Where's your outfit?"

"Everything's in there," Danny pointed to the suitcase, leaving his parents to fiddle with it until it snapped open. Sam directed them to where they could go get ready, and set off with Danny to the direction of her room.

"What happened to you last night?" her voice was a low hiss as they slowly marched down the hall, careful of their voices carrying back to the Fentons in the foyer. It wasn't just Danny's parents Sam was concerned about; the walls had ears in the Manson estate. Too many times, Sam had let her guard down when she thought she was alone, only to find out conversations had a way of getting back to her parents through word-of-mouth of their ever-loyal servants.

Danny's shoulders sagged and he ran a hand through his hair, shaking his head.

Sam gripped onto his arm tighter, stopping in her tracks and subsequently forcing him to stop as well. "Danny," she said slowly, trying her very best to, "you need to start letting me in a bit more about what's going on here. This is my town too, and I've seen too much to just be left in the dark now."

She levelled him with a glare as he turned to face her, his cerulean eyes searching her face for a moment.

"Principal Ishiyama is dead."

And with that, he continued down the hall, leaving a stupefied Sam to stare after him.

"This was a bad idea."

Jeremy Manson gritted his teeth and turned the key in the ignition as hard as he could, causing the expensive SUV to sputter loudly. Not even halfway through the distance between the mansion and the church, and their four-wheeler had given in to the snow they now found themselves entrenched in, refusing to budge even a little bit so that they could get off the road.

As the snow fell harder, the Mansons' and Fentons' sat wedged in a drift on the lane.

"This was a terrible idea."

"Yes, Pamela!" Jeremy hollered finally, unable to take it any more. "This was a terrible idea. It was a terrible idea to step out of our house this evening; it was a terrible idea to get into a vehicle when there's barely even a road left to drive on; it was a terrible idea to leave the safety and comfort of our house to go pay our respects to people we've never even met before just because its expected of us – but guess what? We did it anyway. We went out of the house, got into the car, and drove to the church; and now we're stuck here in the middle of the road, and we shall simply have to live with it. So we can either sit here and complain while the car continues to fail, or we can find some way to get ourselves out of this predicament and continue forward with our scheduled plans. Now, if you don't mind—" he unlocked the door, "—I'm going to find out what's wrong."

There was a shocked silence following the sound of the door slamming as Mr. Manson forced his way through the layers of snow to wade over to the engine, raising the hood up and glaring at what lay underneath. Window-wipers kept snow from blocking the windshield too much, so they were able to watch Jeremy angrily kick at the snowbank in order to free up the tyres.

"I'll help," Danny volunteered quickly,opening his own door and sliding out of the Jeep to sidle up to Mr. Manson's side. Jeremy did not turn his head to acknowledge him, but Danny knew the elder man was aware of his presence regardless.

"I don't suppose you know anything about cars, do you?" Mr. Manson muttered to him.

"Um, not really," Danny replied honestly. "But I have a car of my own, and I always manage to keep her going somehow. Plus, I'm a safer option than my dad anyway." Jeremy cracked a smile at the dig.

"I just wanted to say that I really agreed with what you said in there," he added quickly. "I mean … about how we made a decision and now we might as well follow it all the way through."

Jeremy's eyes slid over to look his way.

"My wife," he said guardedly, "does not fully appreciate the merit of perseverance . It's one of the qualities I have always tried to inspire in Samantha." He raised his eyes briefly to take in the sight of his wife and daughter waiting bored inside the SUV, then returned his attentions to the engine with a sigh. "Perhaps she is right – we don't even know those people. Maybe we should just go home; I know Sam would like to spend some time with her grandmother—"

Danny felt the edges of panic claw at him. Go back? He couldn't leave yet, not before they even made it to His Shining Grace. Yet he knew that if Mr. Manson were to raise the suggestion to the occupants in the car, there was a very good chance it would be met with unanimous favor. It was cold, it was dark, and the night was bound to be miserable. Had he had the luxury, he might have declined the chance to go as well. But he couldn't.

"And do what, Mister Manson?" he asked bluntly. "Sit at home, wait for the TV to come back on, wonder what's going on in the real world while we're hiding out waiting for someone to come find us?

"We're already out here. We're nearly at the church. Let's just..." Danny struggled to think up a word that would convey all of the emotion and all of the heartache and all of the energy he'd had to cycle through in order to get through this ordeal, "...try."

Jeremy Manson fixed him with a piercing stare. The palms of his hands were pressed against the SUV's chrome nose, frozen with ice and most likely biting into his flesh, but he did not seem to notice.

"Very well, Danny," he stated. Danny was surprised.

Sam's father had never used his first name before.

Jeremy turned back to the engine, brushing away a few flakes of snow that had managed to sneak their way under the hood. "So what do you propose we do?"

"Well," Danny huffed, facing the engine as well, with a look on his face reminiscent to the one he wore whenever confronted with a complicated math equation, "how about if you get back in and try starting the car up when I say so, and I'll try working with it out here?"

Jeremy nodded, and left Danny to slip back into the driver's seat, while Danny edged off his mittens and rubbed his hands together to encourage warmth through friction before steeling his nerves and placing his hands directly upon the engine of the vehicle. He closed his eyes and willed himself to concentrate. In his mind's eye, he focused upon the illusion of his hands resting upon the engine, thought about the oil in the filter and the coolant in the radiator, and various other mechanics he was familiar with – the one thing he did not focus on in his mind's eye was the frost.

Power pulsed through him, flowing through his veins and shooting down from where they began in his forearms all the way to the ends of his fingers, which began to shimmer a soft green glow before turning intangible and turning the engine underneath his palms intangible as well. The ice that had begun to build simply fell through the space where the engine had once been, clumping harmlessly onto the ground. Danny turned to the occupants in the car.

"Okay," he called, "are you ready?"

Jeremy gave him a thumbs up to signify he was, then turned the key in the ignition. As he did this, Danny gently cut off the current of power flowing through his hands, turning the engine corporeal once more just in time to jump back to life. There was a cheer as the vehicle began rumbling once more, ready to take off. Danny heartily brought the hood of the Jeep back down and clambered into the backseat to be inundated with congratulations.

Slowly, Jeremy began to back away from the position the car had been left in, until managing to align it correctly once again, then moved forward at barely thirty miles per hour.

"Uh, you might wanna move a little quicker, dad," Sam observed. "The way this storm's coming in, I'm guessing that that's the reason why the car stopped working in the first place."

Jeremy clutched the wheel in an even tighter grip, but gave a curt nod and speeding up. He was clearly very uncomfortable with the the split, crack-up bits and pieces of asphalt and dirt that now served as a roadway, but Samantha had a point if they wanted to get there without the engine icing over again.

"It had to snow," he muttered to himself. "It couldn't have been rain – it just had to snow."

"Speaking of which, has anyone figured out what it is that's giving us this strange weather?" Jack asked loudly. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but I thought summer was coming."

There was a long silence as everybody put some thought into the question, each person trying to arrive at a suitable explanation that would satisfy all logic. All except Danny, of course, who began sweating profusely, despite the cold. He knew that the sudden snowstorm was at Vortex's will, but he was the only person who did.

"Dash said it's a kind of nuclear winter," he said boldly, stealing a look over at Sam and his parents. "You know, in reaction to that freak lightning storm or whatever it was that hit Amity Park."

"That does make sense," Maddie considered, bundling a scarf around her neck. The heater wasn't warm enough to protect them against the temperature outside at the moment.

The headlights fell upon a bevy of parked cars in the snow as Mr. Manson pulled up to the street where the church was located. Danny was relieved to see them. In fact, there were so many cars around the vicinity that none of the passengers were even able to see the church as they pulled up to an empty spot. It was going to be somewhat of a trek in order to get there.

The group of six – Danny, Sam, and both sets of parents – were visibly shivering within a few minutes of escaping the car. Though they had all known that it would be snowing, none of them were able to find something warm enough to bundle in that would have been suitable in a funeral. The wind howled in their ears as snow fell upon their crisp black outfits. In order to preserve as much body heat as he could, Danny ducked his head as close to his body as he possibly could so as to protect his throat, his hands buried deep in his pockets, and legs trudging heavily along in the packed snow.

It was the sound of soft voices that caused Danny to finally look up again.

As a welcoming orange glow filled his senses, he raised his finger and pointed ahead. "There!"

The congregation flooded the gates to His Shining Grace, a low quetch emanating through as the people huddled together to keep warm. Danny and the rest of his companions quickened their pace, finally arriving at the doors.

"Thank goodness," Jeremy breathed, checking his watch. "They should be opening up any minute now."

Danny didn't hear him. His sharp ears had caught on to the melodious chanting that seeped through the thick doors, washing him with a sense of comfort deep inside his soul. The stained-glass windows were alight, a sharp contrast to the darkness apparent to those waiting outside underneath the brewing clouds.

They waited in bated breath as the minutes ticked away. Danny closed his eyes and blocked out the cold as he drowned himself in the sound of the angelic voices he could hear singing inside. A chill ran up his spine, having nothing to do with the snowflakes that fell down upon his shoulders.

There was a great and loud sound, then with a creak, the front doors began to swing open. As he took in the emerging sight, Danny's heart began to swell.

The interior of the church was decorated by candlelight. No other source of lighting seemed to have been made available, and so the flickering flames served not only to illuminate the path ahead for the parishoners, but to also cast shadows upon the wall like grim spectres bidding them welcome.

One by one, each person stepped forward, grateful for the warmth and shelter that awaited them. Sam led the way, followed by her parents, then Jack and Maddie, and finally, Danny. As they stepped through the threshold, shaking off the last remnants of snow, they were greeted by a small child on either side of the doors, solemnly raising up long, white candlesticks for them to take. Danny accepted his mutely, following the lead of those before him by tipping the wick to a lit candle and letting the flame catch on to his own.

The enchanting voices Danny had heard outside picked up once again as he stepped closer to the pews. He drew his eyes up to the stage. Rows of children were gathered on the stage, dressed in plain white robes, with their high voices drawing out the syllables of a language Danny couldn't understand, but recognized to be some form of Latin. And in front of them, waving in hands in time to the voices like an opera conductor, leading the procession – Danny felt his throat constrict – Dash, dressed in a dark suit that complimented the pallor of his skin.

As more and more people began to file in, Danny watched as Dash held up one hand in the air, effectively silencing the children who studied his every move. With a graceful flick of his wrist, Dash began to lead the choir into a new hymn.

"Beloved, sleep," the dulcet tones began to fill Danny's ears as he slipped into a pew. "Thy conflicts are now past, life's battles fought, thy bliss begun."

"And thou art crowned at last."

"Rest," the voices rose along with the curve of Dash's finger. "Sweetly rest. Thy tears are wiped away."

"Thy sighing hushed." The dark, limpid pools of the childrens' wide, innocent eyes fell upon the masses gathered watching them, their high-toned blocking out the darkness and misery that had etched itseldf into Danny's soul. "Thy song begun – and thine eternal day."

"Sweet dreamless sleep—" Danny was astounded now to hear not only the vocals of the children of the choir, but the strong, varied tones of all those present within the church blend together and rise up to fill the hallowed walls that surrounded him. "The Master said well done; thy weary head upon His breast, reclined at the set of the sun."

Danny's mother was gripping his arm now, pulling him up gently, yet firmly, her mouth opened wide and singing along with the rest of them, silently urging her son to join in. Danny didn't know the words, but, his eyes returning back to where Dash was leading the choir, he trusted the others in the room to lead his way, just as they had trusted each other to lead their way.

"We wait in hope," the parish resounded, "till He comes again.

"We'll meet thee then, to part no more.

"Beyond the reach of pain."

"Beloved—" the voices melded together to reach higher and higher into one great crescendo, then finally breaking apart, falling away until only the voices of the children remained, dropping back down to a hushed murmur.

"Sleep."

Silence reigned over the congregation as the notes tapered off. Danny craned his neck upwards to get a better look at Dash as the blond boy turned in order to take a seat. For a brief moment, their eyes met, and Danny's heart jumped when Dash gave him a small smile before descending from the stage.

There was a smattering of applause from an appreciative and emotional crowd. Danny's eyes trailed Dash's form as he went to take a seat next to a man whom Danny recognized to be Dash's father. There was a pause once again before Father Julian took the stage. By his feet, several of the choirmembers making their way around the pews, passing out rosaries to every person waiting for the service to begin.

The church was absolutely packed. Those who had not managed to get a seat in the pews had opted to stand instead, careful not to bump against one of the many glowing candles that had been placed around the area. The doors were wide open, and Danny could see fat snowflakes dropping heavily to the earth, but he felt none of the coldness that smothered the outside world; inside the church was warm, and the pressing of bodies along the walls kept the temperature up to a comfortable degree. Unlike Vlad's own memorial, this time, no one remained outside looking in. It was simply too cold for that.

There was a jostling at his front, and Danny's attention snapped away to glance down at a small choirgirl holding up a rosary for him to take. Slowly, Danny uncurled his fingers to wrap them around the wooden prayer beads, accepting them with a small utterance of thanks.

"My people of Amity Park," Father Julian addressed the crowd.

"Many years now, we have lived alongside fear and uncertainty. Every morning we wake, knowing that we place our lives in the hands of faith. We live alongside the dead, but only on this night have our eyes been opened to the truth: We are surrounded." The defeat in his words echoed in the souls of his listeners.

"Tonight, we bury our loved ones, the ones who were taken from us so unjustly – but as we send them to the Lord, we take with us the strength, the hope, the courage, the love that they gave to us, and we turn it into our shelter. We let our hearts grow with the knowledge that they, our brothers and sisters, reside within ourselves, and that one day, we shall leave the darkness of this world, and find them again within the Light."

"And now, let us bow our heads and pray."

On cue, the reverend's flock closed their eyes and clasped their hands together in respectful fashion, as the wizened old man before them began his sermon.

The prayers included many passages from the Bible, some of which Danny had heard Father Julian utter a million times in the past, some of which Danny could not recall ever having come across in his life. As the old man's soothing words washed over them, His eyes kept downwards, Danny watched as hot wax rolled down the candlestick in his hands, pooling around the metal candleholder at the base. He could hear isolated sniffling and muffled sobbing from the people around him. His own face remained dry and stoic, but inside Danny's body rumbled with the turmoil of churning grief.

When the prayers had finally reached their conclusion, the congregation murmured a respectful, "Amen," and it was over.

Danny got to his feet along with the rest of the assembly at Father Julian's behest, and one by one, they began to file down the asile towards the front, where members of the church were lined up holding golden cups. Danny watched as the first person accepted a small token in their hands, popping the bread into their mouths before taking the golden cup and sipping from it before moving off to the side to allow the next person through. When it was his turn, Danny accepted the bread, chewing it until it went down and took a sip of the delicious red wine that was meant to represent the blood of Jesus. His parents did the same, followed by Sam and her family.

"And now," Father Julian clapped his hands together, "we go to pay our final respects."

Tension crackled in the air as the back doors were opened. The choirmembers flitted around the room, hurriedly taking candlesticks from the churchgoers and smothering out the flames. Danny pulled at the collar of his shirt, feeling desperate for some breathing room.

A blast of cold air hit him in the face, refreshing him as he stepped out in the cold with the rest of the group. They had entered into the cemetery adjacent to the church, and Danny's eyes were immediately drawn to a stone mausoleum looming in the distance with a statue of the Virgin Mary perched on top of it. Vlad's burial ground.

Father Julian led the way, lantern in his hand, directing the unknowing troupe he had with him through the foggy terrain. Danny felt Sam's hands wrap around his arm discreetly, and offered her a small reassuring smile. Sam may have defined herself as a Goth, but when it came down to it, she, like most natural people, found herself out of her element when it came to stalking past the quiet graves. Danny, on the other hand, was so accustomed to his dealings with the dead that he was mostly just thankful that none of these people buried under his feet had the ability to move.

During the time they had been inside the church, the snowstorm had diminished, somewhat, into a slow drift. Snowflakes fell at a gentle pace, dotting the tombstones around them. Danny lifted his eyes to the sky. Though the clouds had not dissipated, they were no longer as oppressive as they had been throughout the entire day, and he was now able to catch several glimpses of the moonlight stealing through the edges as the clouds passed by.

They came to a halt. Danny craned his neck up over the heads of those in front of him, and was just able to see Father Julian as he fumbled with a set of keys in his hands before leaning down and inserting one into the black iron gates that blocked their path. With a clang and a loud creaking, the old gate was pushed open, and the old priest stood aside to let his flock move on ahead of him. Slowly, one by one, they entered through the gate into the second section of the resting grounds. Danny's breath hitched as he took in the sight before him.

Dozens upon dozens of fresh graves had been dug in the mottled earth. Inside each were plain white caskets, all of them sealed so that the bodies within them were hidden from view. Danny wasn't entirely sure he wanted to know what was inside them. The white beam had vaporized everything it touched out of existence – these were probably the bodies that had only been recovered; how many more people had been completely erased out of existence, as if they had never been there at all?

Father Julian stepped past, the lantern still trembling within his grip. Beside each grave was a fresh mound of dirt. The congregation watched as their leader bent down to scoop up a handful of soil in his hand and toss it into one of the square holes, the fresh pile of earth slapping against the coffin's cream-colored surface.

As if on cue, the crowd dispersed, families trudging along together to pick graves to toss the earth into before moving along to another. Several people stopped to bow their heads and whisper a little prayer before acting. Sam left her parents side to inspect one grave curiously. Danny remained rooted to the spot, unsure of what to do.

He looked up again when he felt a small brush of skin against his wrist, finding Dash's blue eyes watching him kindly. He spared a thought for his parents, but found them together, busying themselves with a grave towards his left, so he let Dash take his palm in his own and lead him away from the gates.

They glided past the rows of graves until they reached one freshly-dug hole in particular. There were no words. Dash simply let go of his hand and lowered himself down to his knees, waiting for Danny to do the same. Danny complied, knowing without having to ask, that Dash had brought him here for a reason – this was where Principal Ishiyama was to be put to rest forevermore.

It was quiet now. All the noises around him that filtered through Danny's ears had been muted out, and all that was left in Danny's world was Dash, in that grey-black suit that made him look so mature, and the grave the stretched out before them like a gaping yawn.

Of all the people Danny had feared losing after the attack upon Amity Park, this one had hit him the hardest possibly because he had never even considered it to be within the realm of possibility. Principal Ishiyama was always there, someone who only ever mattered when Danny got in trouble and had be sent in to receive punishment, someone who disappeared from the recesses of his mind once he stepped out of Casper High at the end of another school-day. Now, here she was, a person, somebody worth thinking about, somebody worth his tears. He felt his throat well up. He had never spared her a second thought.

Briefly he wondered if they were here, the monsters who had done this to the people of his town. Did they know that Amity Park was grieving on this night? Had any of them bothered to venture out of their realm to pay their respects, to grieve along with them, to atone for what they had done? Or were the lives of human beings simply too insignificant to carry any weight in the eyes of a ghost?

Well, there would be one ghost paying his respects tonight. Principal Ishiyama didn't deserve to die alone. None of these people did, and if he could, Danny would have done anything to take it all back. Failing that, the only thing he could do was whisper his regret. "I'm sorry," he said brokenly. Dash remained still, resting upon his knees with his eyes closed and hands pressed together in prayer. Danny reached up for his throat, where Poindexter's bowtie was wrapped around his collar, unfastening the knot and pulling it away from his suit. He inspected the bowtie in his hand, eyes scrunched up with the pang of unshed tears, then crumpled it with his fingers. With his other hand, he reached out and scooped up a clump of dirt. Then, he tossed the bowtie into the grave, watching it as it sailed downwards and landed softly against the white casket. With his other hand, he began to heave in the earth.

No, Principal Ishiyama would not die alone.

The moon had disappeared again by the time they were ready to go.

Not all the graves had been visited, not all the earth had been returned, but there was only so much the people of Amity Park were able to handle all at once. Within the first hour, more and more people began thanking the priest and making their leave, returning back to their abodes to wash away the mire of the day and hope for a better one to arrive tomorrow with the sunrise.

Sam had come to him and asked in a small voice if he was ready to go back. Danny had spent hardly any time with them in the cemetery, but he knew they understood that this was a deeply private matter for everyone invovled. Silently, he had shook his head, then begged for Sam to make his excuses. He knew, though he could not say why, that he wouldn't be returning to the Manson estate that night. Sam, experienced as she was, would be able to come up with a sufficient lie.

Eventually, even Dash had pulled away, needing to return home with his father. Danny nodded and thanked him with his eyes for all that he had done, highlighting it with a tender squeeze of their hands where no one could see, and Dash had departed. Danny worked diligently in their absence, grappling with the soil as he toiled to fill in the graves. His breath was ragged and his forearms ached by the time he felt a warm hand grasp his shoulder.

"You know, we have others who will take care of that by tomorrow."

Danny swivelled his head over to find Father Julian inspecting him with a curious and slighly amused glint in his eye. They stared at each other for a moment before Danny broke his gaze.

"Sorry," he said. "I – I..."

Father Julian tapped his shoulder comfortingly to still the boy's excuses. "I know, son. I know. You don't have to explain yourself to me," he smiled. "You must be absolutely chilled to the bone out here. Come with me back into the church."

Danny was indeed feeling the effects of the cold, so he nodded and got to his feet, abandoning his task to follow the old man back. Father Julian ushered him out of the burial grounds and through the wide arches of His Shining Grace, pausing to light up several candles while Danny shook the snow out of his hair.

"Rather unseasonable weather we seem to be having, don't you agree?" Father Julian sounded almost cheerful as he went about the hall providing sufficient lighting.

"Yeah," Danny said tiredly, rubbing at his face and gazing ahead, where the carving of Jesus nailed to the cross had been hung up. His eyes wandered around the room, drinking in the religious depictions that had been splashed upon the windows and the tapestries. "Just a reaction to the … unseasonable weather we had a couple of nights ago, I guess."

"You mean the ghosts," Father Julian confirmed. Danny looked up at him in surprise. "Oh, come Danny, I live in Amity Park just as you do – I understand what happened the other night. Our town has the special privilege of being witness to the deeds of the supernatural. Whether the outside world will acknowledge it or not, we know the truth."

"You know my name?" Danny asked.

Father Julian raised his eyebrows and clacked his tongue. "Let's see … Danny Fenton, son of Jack and Maddie, grandson of Alexander and Beatrice – attended Sunday school for a year, and a regular at our church services up to the age of twelve – childhood rivalry with Dash Baxter … although from what I saw earlier in the service, that hatchet has been buried for some time – yes, Danny, I think it's safe to say I know quite a bit about you."

Danny blushed at the implications of that statement. He couldn't actually mean … no one could possibly know … no one except Tucker that is, he corrected himself. But one glance at the priest's face told him everything he was dreading.

Shadows played upon the old man's face as he chuckled and made his way to his podium. "So, aren't you going to, like, tell me my immortal soul is in danger or something?"

Father Julian raised his eyebrows again. "In danger, you say? My dear boy, whatever for?"

"Well..." Danny shifted uncomfortably, "you said yourself – I haven't been the most religious of people, and … you know..." he murmured self-consciously, "Dash."

Father Julian let out a low wheezing chuckle. "Oh, Danny – you're only a fraction of my age and your views on the church is even more ancient that I am!"

"It might surprise you to know that I, too, failed to find religion to be of great importance when I was a young lad. What use is the prospect of a distant afterlife to a man with all the earthly pleasures laid out for him to indulge in? I was more concerned with living in this world to worry about the next. Just like everybody else, all I wanted was to find love in my life." He leaned forward, squinting to get a better look. "Are you in love, Danny?"

Danny blushed again. There was a time he would have steadfastly denied it, but ever since the night of the Prom, there was no way left for him to hide the emotions that coursed through him. "Yes," he said.

"Then that is all you need to know," Father Julian replied. "The Lord loves all of his children, my son. He gave you a heart to guide you through your path, and as long as you remain true to your heart, you remain true to God."

"But," Danny raised his eyebrow, "doesn't the Bible disagree with homosexuality?"

"The Bible?" Father Julian glanced down at the tome that lay closed on his podium. "I suppose it does – but then, the Bible wasn't handed down to us from God, was it, Danny? The Commandments, perhaps – but the Bible was written by God's followers in tribute to what Man believed God wanted out of us." He flipped through the pages with his thumb. "But I don't believe God brought us into this world with the intention to damn us for our deeds. Our deeds we conduct on our own. Perhaps some deeds are of less purity than others may be. But I don't believe that there is anything more pure in this world than love. If you find it, Danny, then you are truly blessed. More blessed than some who were never fortunate enough to find love in their hearts."

There was a quiet moment as Danny took in the words he had just been told. When he nodded, Father Julian spread a contented smile upon his face.

"Go home, Danny. The people who love you most are waiting for you. The people out there," he nodded over to the closed doors, indicating the cemetery outside, "they have found peace and are waiting to be embraced by the love of their God. Your place is not with Him. Not yet. There's still a life waiting for you to live it. So go, and live."

Danny got to his feet, brushing off the lint from his coat. He met Father Julian's eyes again. "Thank you," he said sincerely. Father Julian nodded, walking him towards the exit, bidding him goodbye before shutting the door behind him.

Danny did not go home to his parents that night. He had no doubt Sam had told them, to some degree, not to expect him. He bundled his coat around him, and though it was cold, he did not mind at all, choosing to walk rather than fly. It felt good to stretch his legs, to feel the sting of the wind against his skin. He walked and walked until he found himself once more at the Baxter household, phasing through the front door without bothering to open it.

"Dash?" he called quietly. The house was dark, and he did not want to risk waking up Mr. Baxter, or Dash if the blond boy had fallen asleep. Danny stepped out of his shoes, leaving them behind as he tread through the area trying to make as little noise as possible. He could see an orange light burning somewhere outside, and he followed it until he found himself standing in the backyard where the swimming pool was located.

His eyes found Dash immediately, and his heart jumped with excitement. The other boy was dressed in a tight-fitting black T-shirt and a red pair of shorts, and though the snow had stopped falling sometime during his journey to the Baxter residence, Danny wondered how Dash could stand to be so underdressed in this weather.

Dash straightened up as though he could feel Danny's eyes on him, and turned to face him, a smile already curving his lips.

There were no words.

Slowly Dash moved away, stripping off his shirt to reveal familiar skin underneath, tossing it to the side as he made his way to the pool. When he was standing at the edge, he turned his head to look at Danny once again as his thumbs slipped under the waistband of his shorts. Danny's breath hitched as he watched the other boy slip the material off his waist, eyes trailing its path as it fell to the ground, unsupported.

His eyes shot back up to take in Dash's nude form, watching in awe as Dash grinned brightly before diving into the pool.

Danny cringed inwardly, imagining how cold the water must have been. Dash's head emerged from the depths, spitting out a stream of water in an arc, whipping his wet hair out of his eyes and laughing at Danny's stunned expression. Carefully, Danny dipped one toe into the water, and he let out a bark of laughter.

A heated pool. Of course.

Dash grinned again, slowly this time, enjoying the look of dawning comprehension written on his boyfriend's expression. He lifted his hand and beckoned for Danny to join him.

Ceasing all thought, Danny undid his blazer, letting it fall off his shoulders as he worked the buttons of his formal shirt, tossing that aside as well. His trousers followed next, and then when his boxers followed, Danny dived in headfirst into the water.

The two of them laughed, enjoying themselves and their illicit actions as they swam around, finally meeting up at the shallow end. Thunder boomed from the threatening clouds overhead, but neither boy paid any attention. All that existed was here and now.

Dash placed his arms on either side of Danny's form, preventing him from swimming away, and leaned his face in closer, eyes sliding shut. There was another boom of thunder, before the clouds gave way, and as Dash's lips came to meet Danny's, the clouds released, finally gushing down warm, warm rain.

Author's Note: So, eight months later, here I am again. I promised you guys I wouldn't abandon this story, and I still stand by it. I admit I took about two months off without even looking at this fic because I needed to recharge after the last chapter, but I had no idea just how long it would take me to write a follow-up to the events of the previous chapter. It had to be done just right, something that I would be proud to add to this series, and I never realized just how long it would take to accomplish something that I would be satisfied with. I pour my heart and soul into this story because you guys, my reviewers, have made me so proud of this little fic that I started so many years ago. So many times I told myself to just screw it and submit it so that you could have an update, but I knew it would be a mistake to write something that I wasn't happy with.

So here it is. No fighting, no ghosts – just pure human emotion. It's so much easier to just write an action scene with everyone kicking ass, but the driving force and the heart of this story was never the action always been the, nor the mystery, but the frailty of the characters behind the drama. This chapter was the epitomy of everything I ever wanted to say when I started this story five years ago, and I am so, so glad that you are all here to read my words. I cannot possibly express how thankful I am to have an audience to write to, and I will never stop until this story meets the end that I envisioned.

I can't wait to read your reviews. Thank you so much for being a part of this story. Until next chapter.