Disclaimer: I don't own Kingdom Hearts, FF, or Axel/Lea, or anything else that would make me rich and happy. I also don't claim to own any references to real-world themes, persons, or works. So there.

A/N: Happy Halloween! Buahahahaha! Just a note, there are a couple of references from my other stories in here. They don't disrupt the plotline if you haven't read the stories, but if you want to milk this for all it's worth comically, I suggest you stop by Match Maker and I Never Should Have Taken My Boyfriend Grocery Shopping! sometime. Just for giggles. Rated T for language, hormones and Sephiroth, because if seeing his name doesn't make you want to pee your pants a little, you must be too insane to feel fear. Cloud supervision is advised.

Happy Halloween!

Bon à lire!

-Slay

Happy Halloween: Rise of the One-Winged Angel

Chapter 1 – This is Halloween

Estuans interius

Ira vehementi

Estuans interius

Ira vehementi…

-o-o-o-

"Sora! Roxas!"

The twins looked up from their leaf-strewn walk home, only to have something small and black flung in their faces. Whatever it was, it stuck to Sora's shirt, and when he looked down at it, his heart stopped.

That was a really big spider.

He screamed. "AGH! GIANT KILLER SPIDER! GIANT KILLER SPIDER!" He started clawing at his shirt, frantically trying to detach the insidious arachnid and failing miserably. "Get it off! Get it off, Roxas!"

"Will you calm down?!" The blonde swatted his brother's hands away, grabbing fearlessly at the spider and popping it off of Sora's shirt. He held it up. "Look, it's not even real."

"Happy Halloween!" Axel busted out laughing, leaning through the window of his car.

Roxas rolled his eyes and chucked the spider back at him. "Whadda you want, Axel?"

Axel sobered up—for the most part. "Whoa! Why the hostility? How about a 'Happy Halloween, Axel!' or a 'Thanks for giving us a ride home, Axel!'?"

"You never offered us a ride home!"

"Want a ride home?"

"…"

Having completely recovered from the 'giant killer spider' incident, Sora gave a broad smile and walked up to the car. "That'd be great! Thanks, Axel."

Axel nodded at Sora appreciatively before giving Roxas a pointed look. "See, Sora gets it."

"Ch."

"Now hurry up and hop in—we're stoppin' traffic here," the redhead pressed, unlocking his doors with a muffled chnk. The twins crawled one after the other into the backseat, pausing when Axel pouted and said, "You're not gonna ride up here with me, Roxy?"

Roxas grabbed his and Sora's bags and dumped them defiantly in the passenger's seat before shutting the door and strapping himself in.

"It's okay, Rox—I don't mind sitting back here by…my…oh…" Sora dwindled at the look his brother gave him, and resorted to quietly twiddling his thumbs.

As he drove, Axel eyed the blonde in his rearview mirror. "Aw, c'mon, Roxas. You're not still mad about that little episode at Chip & Dale's* last week, are you?"

"Episode?" Roxas snapped, blue eyes livid. "You burned an entire furniture emporium to the ground!"

"Not to the ground," Axel contended. "There's still some of it standing."

"That doesn't justify—"

"Hey, c'mon, now, guys! Let's just be thankful nothing horrendous came of it." Sora worked to placate the mood, though in the back of his mind he couldn't help but wonder just how Axel kept getting away with his selective brand of public arson. Maybe it had something to do with his brother being on the police force.

They pulled down the twins' street and stopped at the curb by their driveway, and before letting them out, the redhead swiveled around in his seat and said, "I assume you guys are still up for tonight's festivities?"

"Yep!" Sora nodded enthusiastically, pumping his fist in the air. "A night of trick-or-treating followed by a party at Dem's place! It's gonna be awesome!"

"What're you guys going as?"

"Our mom thought that since we're twins, we should do a devil/angel thing this year," Sora explained eagerly. "How about you, Axel? What are you dressing up as?"

"Irony."

"…What do you mean?"

Axel chuckled and shook his head. "You'll see later."

Roxas huffed, heaving his bag onto his shoulder and sliding out of the car. Sora looked after him and hovered by the driver's side window. "Er…s'been a rough week at school," he murmured apologetically. "He'll be in a better mood later when the spirit hits him."

"No doubt about it," the redhead chuckled. "Hey, we never heard from Riku. Is he going?"

"Not trick-or-treating, 'cause he's got work. Which is weird, because I didn't know Riku even had a job!" Sora sighed. "But he is gonna make it to the party later. I even convinced him to dress up!"

"Well it is a costume party," Axel grinned. "Mmk, then. Dem and I will be here to get you guys around seven. And this time, don't forget something to put your candy in!" He prodded playfully at the brunette's chest before pulling away from the curb and driving off, tossing a casual wave out the window.

-o-o-o-

"I still think we're too old for trick-or-treating."

The twins were up in Sora's bedroom, so close and yet so far from being ready to go, because SOMEONE (cough Sora cough) couldn't keep his shit together.

Sora rolled his eyes, rifling around under his bed for the last few baubles of his costume. He could feel the pressure dipping the mattress where Roxas sat on top of it, and had to fumble out from under it before he could reply. "I don't think we are."

Roxas smirked. "That doesn't mean much, coming from you." He sprawled out on the tousled sheets of the bed and started fussing with odds and ends of his costume, bored. He was dressed in his own interpretation of a teenaged devil, which consisted of a red long-sleeved shirt and red, black-strap Tripp pants—which he was still amazed their mother even let him buy—as well as an attachable tail and a headband with horns.

Sora made a face and dove back under the bed, his hands groping blindly through the litter.

In distinct contrast to his brother, the brunette wore a white, belted tunic that stopped at his knees, revealing the stone-washed jeans he had on because Sora refused to leave the house without pants, despite Roxas' jeering encouragement that nothing bad could possibly come of that. He had also opted out of wearing wings of any kind, for fear that their awkwardness might interfere with simple tasks like walking through doors or riding in the car. This left him with only a couple of discerning props, one of which he couldn't find.

"Have you seen my halo?"

Roxas shook his head and shrugged. "If you kept all of the accessories in the bag like I told you to…" he chastised, but Sora just ignored him and took to picking through his closet again.

"Well can you at least help me look?" The brunette pleaded, carelessly tossing shoes and books and various articles of clothing across the room. "I can't go out tonight without it."

"I don't see why not," Roxas said, expertly dodging the projectiles without leaving his spot on the bed. He picked up the five-foot pitch fork he'd bought to top off his costume and started batting at the objects that came flying from Sora's closet, returning fire and hitting his brother in the back with a sneaker.

"Ack!" Sora stopped and looked at him. "Knock it off! …And I can't be an angel without a halo, Roxas."

"Sure you can. You're wearing a white dress—"

"—robe."

"And you've got your little toy harp—"

"—it's a lyre."

"Potato, pot-ah-do. My point is, you look plenty like an angel without the halo. So why don't we just pack up and go?"

Sora had successfully strung the entrails out of his closet, and was still pouting when he said, "Fine. But only if you leave your horns."

"What?" The blonde's eyes widened as if the proposal were completely ludicrous. "I can't do that! They're integral to the effect of my costume."

"Well so's my halo!"

The door to their room swung open before Roxas could retort.

"Boys, your friends are here—oh, Sora Strife! Look what a mess you've made!"

The brunette scrambled to his feet and looked around, shrugging sheepishly. "I'll clean it up tomorrow, Mom."

The woman scrutinized him with a cocked brow, then nodded slowly. "I'm holding you to that, young man. I don't care if you're on a…a sugar crash or whatever you kids call it these days."

"Yes, ma'am!"

"And by the way," their mother produced something off the top of the laundry basket she had propped on her hip. "I found this in the family room—you really should keep better track of your things, mister."

"MY HALO!" Sora rushed over and attacked his mother in a bone-crushing hug, nearly knocking the basket out of her grip. She laughed. "Is that why you were tearing your room apart?"

Sora nodded, taking the faux-gold ring from her and working it into his rambunctious spikes of hair. "Roxas said I don't need it for my costume to work 'cause I got the other pieces, but I know that's just a load of—"

"Sora!"

"What? I was gonna say garbage."

"Uh-huh."

There was a burst of elated laughter from downstairs. "Well," their mother sighed, "you boys had better get going." As she said it, the twins gathered the last of their things, including pillow cases for candy and a pair of extra jackets ("I don't care if they 'mess up your costumes'—I'll not have you boys getting sick because of carelessness!"). The twins rumbled down the staircase, finding Axel and Demyx waiting for them in the foyer.

Demyx was, quite predictably, decked out like a classic rockstar—his sandy hair was even more frazzled than usual, a great, wild mess on top of his head that was being held at bay by a blue bandana. A shimmering purple lightning bolt was painted boldly over his right eye, monopolizing his face as it stretched from his hairline to the lowest corner of his cheek. He wore a black band shirt with the sleeves gouged away, leather pants and boots and a plethora of chains, belts and arm bands. In spite of his exuberant attire, the boy was noticeably put out about something, his posture drooping at whatever Axel was saying.

"—I don't care if it's still in the wrapper, Demyx; you're not eating a piece of candy you found on the sidewalk."

"But—but AAAAxelll!"

"It's for your own good," the redhead asserted, holding out his hand, which the blonde reluctantly dropped a piece of fruity candy into. Axel wandered off for a moment, tossing the candy in the first trash can he found. When he returned, he spotted the twins on the stairs and threw out his arms in welcome. "Well it's about time! Could you ladies do me a favor next time and warn me if it's gonna take you three hours to get ready?"

For once he didn't get a sneering response. The "ladies" were too busy staring at him.

"What?"

After a moment Sora muttered, "I see what you meant by irony."

Axel was dressed as a firefighter. He had the complete uniform, from the boots and the pants to the hi-vis coat and the visored helmet—his audacious red hair exploding down his neck. A pair of gloves and a fake hatchet hung from his waist, and there was a plastic breathing apparatus strapped to his back.

Roxas slapped a hand across his face.

"What? I said I was going as irony."

"Axel, this isn't irony. It's sacrilege."

"Sacri-what now?"

The conversation was interrupted when the front door was pushed open, shooing Axel and Demyx to the other end of the foyer. "Are you idiots still here?"

The oldest Strife brother came traipsing in from the porch, still dressed in his work uniform and with an exhausted slump in his shoulders.

"Cloud, honey, I thought you got off early for Halloween?"

"This is early," Cloud replied, slipping a begrudging glance at his younger brothers. "Ever since someone destroyed the store last month, Mr. Wise has needed all hands on deck."

Sora and Roxas grinned hesitantly, parting to let their mother down the stairs. "Oh, that's right! Have they found who's responsible yet?" She set down the laundry basket to give her oldest son a hug.

"No." Cloud returned the hug and pecked his mother on the cheek before glaring threateningly over her shoulder at the twins, who continued to smile nervously. "But the police are still looking into it."

"Well I hope they find the perps," their mother nodded resolutely, pulling back. "That was quite a bit of damage."

"You're telling me."

"WELL, I think we better get going, guys!" Axel burst out suddenly, snagging Demyx around the shoulders and motioning at the twins. "If we dawdle much longer all the good candy's gonna be gone!"

"Right!" Mrs. Strife turned to the boys with her hands on her hips. "Now you boys are going to stick together and be very careful, right? There're a lot of weirdos out on Halloween."

"Yes, ma'am."

"And you're both wearing an extra layer of clothing…you have your phones? And they're turned on?"

"Yes, Mom."

"And your extra jackets?"

The boys held up the objects in question. "Yes."

"Good," she said sternly. "It's supposed to drop below fifty tonight." She turned toward the blonde rockstar determinedly. "Demyx, honey, are you going to be warm enough?" She gestured at his sleeveless shirt. The boy nodded exuberantly. "Yeah, Mrs. S. I've got my leather jacket in the car."

"Alright then, I guess there's nothing else to say other than I love you and I'll see you boys later," she shrugged. The twins each presented themselves for an obligatory kiss. "I know the party's gonna run late," their mother added as they grouped at the door with their friends. "So if you get back after midnight be sure to turn out the porch light and lock the door. And call if you're staying the night somewhere else." She turned to Cloud as the other boys filed out. "Now why don't you go rest while I heat up some dinner for you?"

Demyx was the last one out the door because he stopped and leaned into the foyer, brows worried. "Cloud, you're not gonna be too tired to come to my party later, are you?"

The older blonde shook his head. "I don't think Zack would stand for that."

At this, Demyx's painted face lit up. "Awesome! See you there, dude!"

"C'mon, Dem—we're already an hour behind!"

A/N: Nothing happened in this chapter. YAY!

*Chip & Dale's – the Disney chipmunks Chip and Dale were originally named for Chippendale furniture (or so I'm told), so this was kind of a…triple entendre? I guess?

Overbearing mother anyone? I know the feels, bro. There was much yes mom-ing in my house growing up. I'm sure it was for the best, though.

…My mom wouldn't let me buy purple Tripp pants—mostly because she was convinced the straps would lead to my ultimate demise. She was probably right. I'm not a particularly graceful child. *faceplants*

I always feel weird using real-world brand names in fan fiction, but let's face it: there's no elegant way to describe Tripp pants without using the term "Tripp pants".

-Slay