>The weak light of Thursday, October 30th, pins warm pink tones to your inner eyelids

>You had just strayed into a waking dream, trapped in that purgatory between the full gravity of sleep and waking lucidity

>In truth, you hadn't slept well

>Anxiety drove its barbs into you

>Earlier in the week it was one distraction after the other

>And this whole business happening on Friday night never felt real

>It felt like college — some kind of concept people whispered about while staring at the city from a high school rooftop — not an actuality that was approaching

>Like a storm on the horizon

>But now the sky is swollen and ready to empty its fury

>Friday was one day away from rearing its bald fucking head at you

>You had:

>The Behemoth

>The goths

>Sam's Dad

>All out hunting for you right now

>All gearing up for Friday night

>And what did you have?

>A shopping cart full of garlic and squirt guns

>Oh, and Sam's baseball bat in your trunk

>Speaking of Sam, the bunny is stirring in his sleep, murmuring half-sentences and clenching his body tight

>Your heart really does go out to the kid

>He's really had a rough go of it, and all he wanted was to have one actual Halloween 

>You guess you've taken holidays for granted, because they're, in a way, a symptom of a healthy and happy home life

>All this dumb bunny wanted was to have a little bit of what everyone else gets

>And now you've involved him in some weird cult and put his life in danger

>You  clutch your head as you feel a wave of guilt come over you, pounding in your temples like railroad spikes

>Dear God

>What have you done?

>All he wanted was one crummy dance with you

>YOU DON'T EVEN CARE ABOUT SCHOOL OR THIS SHIT, WOULD IT REALLY HAVE BEEN THE WORST THING TO SPEND ONE. FUCKING. NIGHT. WITH. HIM? 

>Before you can tear any further into yourself, Sam sits up and rubs sleep from his eyes, belting out a yawn

>You quickly scoot a heterosexual distance away from him

>He doesn't seem to notice as he blinks himself awake

>"M-Morning," he says, as if in a daze

>He might have slept, but it doesn't appear to have been all that restful

>Bad dreams, maybe

>"Morning," you say, making no effort to keep your voice low

>You check the time on your phone

>Plenty of time to kill before school

>Alex is still sawing logs, so you decide to let him peacefully sleep

>It's the least you could do for your comrade after he rescued Mike

>Ah, and speaking of-

>Your gaze sweeps the church pews

>Jenna is weirdly absent

>You check the bathrooms (even the boy's room) and she's still missing

>Shit

>Did she ditch you guys in the middle of the night?

>…Would you blame her?

>You mean, you can understand the betrayal

>She's involved now and had no good reason to be, other than wanting to save Mike

>Not like he needs saving anyway

>He's not helpless anymore now that he's partially given up on his future

>He's drunk on that dumb, reckless nihilism that tends to infect people bereft of their hope and means of escape

>You and Sam slip out through the fire exit 'round the back of the church

>Your lungs tingle as you fill them with frosted air

>You stand outside the church and watch as your your breaths disappear into thin clouds of vapor

>Sam makes like he's blowing on a cigarette and pushes a steady knot of warm out from his chest

>You both watch it ascend and join back up with the clouds

>He looks up at you, giggling a little

>You smile despite the chill

>Wrapping your arms around your midsection and shivering in your thin fucking baseball t-shirt (good choice, idiot), you pace towards your car (parked like you'd gotten three margarita's deep behind the wheel last night)

>You get about halfway across the parking lot when the sight of a busy fox-tail sticking out of the rear driver side door grinds your legs to a frosty halt

>Wat

>You hear Mike's husky voice echo: “Hold it still, you're getting it all over the upholstery."

>Jenna replies: “I'm trying, but you're shaking. Just… okay, hold on. How about now?"

>You don't know why you did this, but you assume a crouched stance, evenly distributing your weight across your body

>Stealthy, like a fox (just not Jenna)

>"A-Anon-" Sam calls after you

>You hush Sam with a finger against his lips

>Jenna's ears twist in your direction like a pair of antennas honing in on a signal

>Her tail, ordinarily swishing back and forth, freezes up, standing stiff and alert

>"Someone there?" Mike asks from inside the vehicle

>God knows what the fuck they're doing inside the car

>YOUR CAR

>Jenna slides herself out of the car very slowly, her back facing you, fingers wrapped around her left wrist, as if she were pressing upon a wound

>You can guess her back is turned because she's blushing

>Do vixens blush beneath the orange fur?

>She's still wearing the same green sweater and pale blue jeans, but with her tail plastered between her legs, she looks more like a kid who just got caught looking at her christmas presents too early

>"Anon?" She says, slowly, her voice trembling, stumbling and striving for the courage to say-

“It's not what it looks like?" You offer

>Mike slides easily out of the vehicle

>He wipes his palm across his mouth, and then onto his pants

>He evasively turns his head to the side and peers into the car?

>Why do they both look so guilt-

>"A-Are you okay?" Sam lurches forward. “Y-You're b-bleeding…" he says in a low voice

>He weakly aims a finger at Jenna

>She still doesn't turn around

>The vixen tries hiding her left wrist behind her body

>"I'm fine," she blurts, her posture stiffening up to its full, pathetic height. “J-Just go back inside. Nothing to see here-"

>Bleeding?

>IN YOUR CA-

>Oh, bleeding

>You're not a total idiot

>You look towards Mike in disgust

>Mike shrugs, still not meeting your gaze

>"She offered, I was hungry. I don't see the problem," he says, sounding almost embarrassed

“Oh fuck." You take a small step backwards. “Does this mean you bit her? You sucked her blood? Is she going to turn into-"

>"Eww!" Jenna spins around, fury printed onto her features (and a touch of blush). She clutches her left wrist, but you can still see the blood seeping through the cracks between her claws

>"He didn't /bite me/. I cut my wrist and… and…" her blush only reddens, like hot coals whose smolder had been stoked with gasoline

>Mike sticks his tongue out and points to it

>Ah, that makes some sense

>He… licked her arm

>Which is disgusting, but logical

>Sam is the first to react

>"T-That's so sw-sweet," he stammers. He looks up at you for entirely too long, as if to ask 'would you do the same thing for me if I were a vampire?'

>You make a disgusted face and flick him lightly on the nose

>He shrinks back from you

>Jenna, on the other hand, seems less than thrilled. Still wearing her blush, she explains that Mike is an asset to the team and he needs to be taken care of

>You only buy that a little

>You suspect that there are some ulterior motives at play here, but don't want to dig too deeply

“Well, if you're all done bleeding into each other's mouths, why don't we wake Alex up and start talking about a plan," you declare.

>"Fine by me," Mike says, look very satisfied with both Jenna's embarrassment and his satiation

>Alex is already up and eating a balanced breakfast of yesterday's peanut butter cups

>He waves as you enter

>"Ahoy comrades. Care to share some breakfast with me?"

>Sam bounces forward, all too excited at the idea of having candy for breakfast

>Christ, he's like a little kid

>Just wait until you guys go trick-or-treating…

>At some point, either before or after you stop Vanessa and The Behemoth and… Sam's Dad…

>Your heart sinks to same depths as it did this morning when you were contemplating everything stacked against you

>But if Sam has those thoughts, they don't seem to bother him

>"C-Can I h-have one?" he stutters, bounding down the aisles of the church, his words miles behind him

>Alex cocks back his arm and fires a wrapped chocolate at Sam's head

>It donks off his forehead and lands at his feet

>The bunny is undeterred

>He skitters to a halt and pounces on it like a starved wolf, shucking the candy's foil in visceral carnage and plopping the little chocolate nugget into his mouth

>…Kid really likes sugar

>He doesn't notice everyone staring at him until he stands up to find all eyes turned towards him

>He swallows nervously and forces his hands behind his back

>"S-Sorry. H-H-Hungry."

>You manage to drag Alex outside to talk with Mike, which is no easy task

>Alex, the little (big) commie is lanky, tall, and has little to protect him from the jagged knife that is the cold, October morning breeze

>Now, assembled around your car (again), you pass the bag of candy around, Sam taking generous handfuls and stuffing them in his hoodie's pockets

>You don't mind

>Honestly, you've eaten enough chocolate for five Halloweens over

>…If you live that long

>And that depends on your next steps here

>You've got a decent idea, but you're not sure everyone else would go for it

>"Anon, you wanna enlighten us as to what our next move is?" Mike says, not with an air of renewed vigor. “Because Alex looks like he's going to freeze his ideologies off."

>He looks less pale than before, his face and skin touched with color

>The blue veins that spider webbed beneath his porcelain skin seemed to have retracted or melded back into the warmth of his body

>Guess a little Type A in your system will do that to you

>Alex's body is shaking and spasming with chills, but that's what he fucking gets for wearing shorts and long sleeves and no jacket (not that you're any better, you just have proper pants)

“Well hey we're all wearing weather appropriate clothes, that's not our fault."

>"W-W-Worry not c-c-c-comrades," Alex says, his teeth ramming together with every syllable, sounding like he was guillotining the words. “I've slaved at The Shop N' Save in worse."

>You nod at Comrade Alexi

>He is indeed a brave, dumb soldier

“Alright, I'll try to keep this brief. Tomorrow is Halloween. And more importantly, tomorrow is the night of the Spooktober Fest — when the dark rite, ritual, what the fuck ever, can be completed. And also when it can be stopped. That's our Death Star."

>"D-Death Star?" Sam says

>"Do-Don't te-tell me y-y-you haven't s-s-seen Star W-Wars either," Alex chatters

>The rabbit hangs his head in embarrassment

>"Jesus Christ," Mike whistles. “We gotta get this kid up to speed when we're done."

>"Anon, please continue," Jenna smiles, obviously not interested in being out in the cold either, despite her fur and sweater

>You nod 

“Right. So we're going to that dance-party-function-thing. All of us."

>A bright gleam leaps up into Sam's eyes. "W-We are?"

>Surprisingly, everyone nods in agreement

>You expected more resistance than this

>Well, to be fair, your plan is extremely basic

>With a slight twist

“And I'm also proposing that we go in costume shopping after school," you say, expecting similar agreement

>Mike stuffs his hands into his pockets

>"Why? I'm too damn old to do that shit still," he says

“Two reasons: one, we'll have to infiltrate the Spooktober Fest in costumes so we don't instantly get caught by Vanessa and the others. And two…" 

>You look down at Sam, whose eyes are shining at the idea of getting to wear a costume

>You quickly glance up and hope nobody notices your pleased smile

>"…There is no second reason. We just go."

>Well, there is actually a second reason

>You're going to give Sam as close to a normal Halloween as you can get at your age

>But then again, your best Halloween memories are only scant recollections of traditional holiday fare — trick-or-treating, dressing up, carving pumpkins — the real memories began when you and Mike and Alex would fuck around, get drunk, play vidya, puke into each other's sinks and pass out in your basement

>Is a storybook holiday really right for him? Maybe a party with kids his age would help diversify his experience

>You look down again quickly, and Sam is wearing the cutest, dopiest grin across his effeminate face

>Yeah, at least costume shopping will be good for him

>Mike seems less than thrilled at the idea

>"I'm 18. I'm too old to be doing this crap. What, you wanna go trick-or-treating next?"

“We're all 18," you say, “and I don't hear anyone else objecting." 

>He crosses his stubby arms across his chest in casual defiance. "Well, I don't have any costume ideas. And I want something cool."

>A smile creases your lips

>Mike looks like he's seen something wretched

>You dig into your back pocket and draw out two neatly folded sheets of notebook paper

>You unfold them — Sam's drawings from Tuesday — and hold them up for everyone to see, like you'd just found the map to some buried treasure

“Sam's already got costume ideas for all of us."