Just a short, weird, kind of dark one-shot I wrote after thinking way too long about "Identity Crisis."

I don't own Danny Phantom

Danny remembered with almost painstaking clarity the first time he'd flown through the Fenton Ghostcatcher. Months later, he still remembered it. Wandering through by accident, he had split himself without meaning to, without purpose to his actions. Staring up into his own glowing green eyes had been one of the strangest moments of his life, matched only by the similarly strange feeling of staring down as Phantom into his own blue eyes. In those few short moments before reuniting he had been scared, confused, awed, curious—but he had been himself.

Gazing dully into the glowing green web of the device now, he could almost ignore the debris surrounding him. It was a miracle that the thing had survived, really. The only miraculous event of the day. So much else had been destroyed…

Intent. It has to do with intent.

It was an entirely different feeling, going through the second time.

The overwhelming stress of being part-time high schooler, part-time hero had been taking its toll for months by then, piling up until he was willing to do almost anything just to have some semblance of a normal life again. He wasn't like Sam, always so desperate to distinguish herself from the crowd, or even like Tucker who took a certain amount of pride in his geeky, techno know-how. He just wanted to blend, to escape the notice of bullies like Dash, do well enough in school to make it into a good bachelor's program, and maybe get the pretty girl now and then. Becoming half-ghost had never rid him of that desire, only made it completely unattainable. But back then, he'd still believed that maybe, if he tried hard enough, if he could only get on top of things for once and deal every aspect of his life demanding his attention… maybe he could go back to that normal life. A life where his biggest worries were whether there would be a pop quiz in English, and who he would ask to the dance. A life where Jazz's body wasn't lying broken three feet away, glassy eyes accusing in their relentless glare.

His mind shied away, latching on to the only safe thought.

Intent. It has to do with intent.

So he'd gone through the Ghostcatcher. It was the perfect solution, a way to have everything at once. He'd gone through with purpose, with a goal… but it was different that time. He wasn't himself.

It was something he didn't notice at first, like a pain that builds so gradually you don't even know it was there until it's gone. His thoughts, his values, everything that made him him had been split, altered, in some cases even removed, but until he was made whole again he didn't notice their absence. "Fun Danny" and "responsible Danny" might have been parts of him, but neither one was really him. He hadn't really been Danny.

Blood dripped steadily in the corner where Sam and Tucker lay sprawled, mouths open. Danny ignored them both. Now that their hearts had stopped beating, the dripping sound would stop soon, too.

It all has to do with intent.

That was the interesting part to Danny—that his intentions had guided the split. Part of him wanted to protect Amity Park. His powers made him the most capable, and besides, he was the one who had opened the portal and let all the ghosts through in the first place. It was kind of his responsibility to help out a bit… but at the same time, he wanted nothing to do with that responsibility. Fourteen was too young to sacrifice his life to thankless service of others. Shouldn't he be able to pig out on pizza, watch scary movies, and play video games like every other kid his age? Half of him wanted to fight ghosts—half of him wanted to have fun. And the Ghostcatcher, sensing his division in purpose, had made its own division along those lines. Now, if the same principle held true if he were to fly through the net with different intentions…

Jack, who had always seemed larger than life to Danny, looked somehow even bigger in death. Maddie was almost puny in comparison.

It all has to do with intent.

"Daniel?" a quiet voice said behind him. He didn't turn around. "I didn't mean… I hope you know…" The voice sighed. "This wasn't supposed to happen, you have to understand that. Maddie… I would never…" His voice broke.

Danny listened detachedly. Emotions clamored for attention in the back of his mind, desperate for release, but he squashed them down. If he let them go, he might do something he would regret.

Or at least, part of him would regret it. Another part wouldn't regret it at all.

Intent.

"I understand how you're feeling, Daniel. I am… truly sorry. We'll bring someone in to clean up the place, remove the bodies… but you can't stay here. Please, come home with me."

The emotions were white hot now, burning with intensity.

Intent.

"Don't be so stubborn, Daniel. I'm sure I'm the last person you want to see right now, but you must face the facts. You have no one else. I am all you have left, and you—." Another broken sigh. "Just come with me, at least for tonight. Tomorrow we'll sort everything out, but for now… come with me. Please."

Something in the man's penitent tone forced Danny's rage to a boiling point, and he snapped.

"This is your fault," he growled. "You killed them! And now you expect me to come with you like nothing happened?"

The man behind him let out a sharp gasp. "It was an unfortunate accident," he snapped. "I didn't kill anyone. And yes, I do expect you to come with me. Where else will you go? Perhaps you'd like to stay with your lonely old aunt in the middle of nowhere. Or perhaps you think your friends' parents will take you in? Even if they did, how long could you stand to live with them knowing you had survived, when their own child did not?"

"Shut up," Danny muttered, but the man pressed on.

"You realize that every person aside from me who knew your secret is dead. Who else do you think you can trust? Surely not your 'friend,' Valerie." His smirk was almost audible. "That girl would destroy you the moment she discovered what you are."

"SHUT UP!" Danny cried, his eyes glowing green as he whirled around for the first time.

Vlad's face was ashen, and his posture, always so ramrod-straight, was slumped. He looked more broken than Danny had ever imagined he could be.

"I'm sorry," Vlad rasped. "I don't mean to be cruel. I just need you to see… that there is no other choice. I am all you have left."

Danny said nothing, looking back at the Ghostcatcher. Now that his emotions had been unleashed, there was no ignoring the bodies scattered around him.

The pain of their loss was unbearable, tearing him up inside. He remembered it from before, from a future that had never been but was somehow coming to pass anyway, this time without interference. He was angry, furious at Vlad for causing this, for even thinking that Danny would evercome with him now. Didn't he understand that Danny would rather be anywhere else, with anyone else than him? Most of all, he was furious with himself, because even after all Vlad had done, all he had destroyed, even with the desire for revenge coursing through his veins… Danny still didn't have it within himself to kill Vlad. The man deserved it—more than anyone else in the world, he deserved it—but he couldn't do it.

Or at least, part of him couldn't. Was there a part of him, somewhere deep inside, that could?

He didn't even notice the white rings forming around him, transforming him into his ghostly self.

It all has to do with intent.

"What are you doing?" Vlad asked sharply. "Do you really think you can run far enough to escape this? You'll be back—there's nothing else you can do."

"I can think of one thing," Danny said, flying forward.

I want to kill. I don't want to kill.

It all has to do with intent.

The faces of his friends and family beneath him almost made him pause. Hadn't he promised? At some other time, in some other life… hadn't he promised?

But what was a promise to those who were dead?

He passed through the Ghostcatcher.

It all has to do with intent.

He was different again, he knew it. Having felt it before, he could feel it more easily this time. He was different. Looking up, he found himself staring into glowing red eyes.

For a long moment they stared at each other, a boy incapable of harming the smallest living thing, and a ghost who could destroy the world. Then Phantom grinned, turning his attention to Vlad who stood frozen with shock.

"So, Uncle Vlad," he crooned. "Are you ready for me to come with you now?"

The ghost rushed forward, and the boy closed his eyes. Someone screamed.

It all had to do with intent.