A/N - This is just a short story I had a urge to write and it will probably wind up being two or three chapters long. It's connected to Cigarettes and Chocolate Milk and takes place during the same timeline as the flashbacks in that story. I hope you enjoy it!

Note: I don't own Four Brothers or Thriller by Michael Jackson

Trick or Treat

Chapter 1

It's close to midnight

and something evil's lurking in the dark

"What the hell are you supposed to be?" Bobby was sitting on the couch, his feet propped up on the coffee table and an orange bucket full of candy on his lap – a bucket he was rifling through and pulling all the Kit Kats out of.

"Are you stealing Halloween candy?"

Bobby shrugged and held out the bowl. "Want some?"

Jack looked over his shoulder to make sure Evelyn wasn't in the room and rushed over, blindly grabbing a handful and dropping it into the old pillowcase he was carrying instead of a plastic bag. That was a tip that Jerry had passed on – plastic always, no matter what, broke and carrying a plastic pumpkin was for little kids and losers.

"So what are ya supposed to be? Can't tell without the fairy wings."

Jack rolled his eyes and glanced down at the costume Evelyn had helped him make; well, the costume he'd started to help Evelyn make and she finished it up for him after he got bored ten minutes into the project. She'd sewn white felt bones onto old black sweats and it turned out pretty cool. Just to make it more badass, he'd thrown his leather jacket over it and in the pillowcase he had a plastic skull mask they'd found at the drugstore. He figured he'd wear that for a house or two before he got tired of listening to himself breath and claustrophobia got the better of him.

Shrugging, he said, "I dunno. Elvis. Morrison. Hendrix. Take your pick." He looked at his brother and his hockey jersey and narrowed his eyes. "Is that a costume?"

Bobby grinned as he tore open the wrapper on a candy bar, letting it drift to the floor with the rest of the wrappers that were littering the carpet. "Figured I'd give the kids a thrill – get their candy from the Michigan Mauler. Shit, maybe I should give 'em my autograph instead of candy. What do ya think, Jackipoo? Think they'd like that?"

"Sure, they'd be thrilled."

Taking a bite out of the Kit Kat, Bobby leaned back with a triumphant look on his face. "Damn straight, kid."

"Yeah, and it would only take Ma about a month to get all the toilet paper out of the trees and the eggs washed off the siding," Jack said as he ducked the handful of candy Bobby chucked at his head. He took a seat in the recliner on the opposite side of the room, not out of the range of fire, but he figured he could take his chances.

"Aren't you too old to go trick-or-treating?" Bobby mumbled around a mouthful of chocolate. "I stopped that shit when I was ten."

Jack felt his face grow a little hot – he had been wondering the same thing, but Steve had talked him into it. "Lots of guys are going. It's not like there's anything else to do around here."

Bobby laughed. "Man, you just ain't lookin' in the right places. I wasn't sitting at home twiddling my thumbs on Halloween night when I was thirteen, that was for damn sure; but I also didn't dress up like some fucking Smurf and go begging door to door."

"What the hell is a Smurf?"

"Whatever. My point is, there's plenty to do tonight that doesn't include knocking over five year old girls to get to the Twizzlers."

Jack started fidgeting with the zipper on his jacket, zipping it up and down over and over again as he worked his brother's words around in his brain. He realized Bobby was right - trick-or-treating was for little kids and wusses like band geeks and the nerds who got excited about comic books and Saturday morning cartoons. Free candy wasn't worth being lumped in with them come Monday morning when they were all back at school.

"Fine," he said finally. "What do you suggest?"

Bobby squinted at him and rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "You goin' to Steve's?" he asked and Jack nodded.

"Hmm … that's down on Highland?" Jack nodded again and Bobby shook his head. "Nah, that's too intense for you guys. You'd shit your pants just thinking about it, fairy like you."

"Bobby --" Jack protested.

Leaning forward, his elbows on his knees, Bobby got a dead serious look on his face. "Don't say I didn't warn you …"

XxXxXxXxXx

"No, Jack, we can't. I don't care what your brother said." Steve was sliding his sword back into his holster, or whatever you called that thing - Jack was only half listening when Steve described his costume in detail, right down to the authentic medieval underwear he had no luck finding at the mall. So Steve was currently wearing historically inaccurate boxers and Jack wasn't even trying to act like he gave a shit. His best friend was decked out, head to toe, as the fifth knight in the realm of whateverinthehell game it was that he played on Friday nights that had twenty sided dice and made him say "forsooth" with a stupid accent. Jack was beginning to think he was hanging around with one of those nerds he had been trying so hard to avoid.

They were walking up the driveway of the next house as Steve continued his argument against Bobby's suggestion for making their night less than embarrassing and lame. "I know you think he's wicked and all that, but sometimes your brother can be an asshole."

"You just don't like him because he gave you that wedgie once."

"Twice."

"Whatever, man. It was funny."

"Sure, it was funny for you because you weren't the one hanging in the air on the coat rack." Steve went to kick a stone on the ground but succeeded in tripping over it instead.

Jack grinned. Even though it had happened well over a year ago, back when he had starting hanging around Steve, the memory was still fresh in his mind of his friend dangling at the bottom of the stairs as his feet spun in the air like a Road Runner cartoon. Evelyn made Bobby take him down and apologize but Steve never forgave him for it, especially when he felt the need to give an encore performance of it for Jerry and Angel.

"Look, Mercer, we're at your girlfriend's."

"I don't have a --" Before he could finish his statement, the door opened and a familiar face was standing on the other side of it. "Oh hi, Kathy," he muttered.

"Hi, Jack," she said, holding a bowl full of candy. She was wearing a crooked wig with pigtails and a familiar looking blue plaid dress. "Dorothy," she offered when she noticed Jack was looking at her clothes. She blew out a puff of air and sighed. "My mom makes me dress up to hand out the candy."

"Oh," Jack offered lamely. "Cool?"

"Not really." She pulled at the skirt and grimaced. "I hate costumes."

"You look cute," he said suddenly, not sure where that came from. She blushed and stammered a bit, pushing her clunky glasses back up on the bridge of her nose. He suddenly felt guilty, which was just stupid because why should he feel guilty for offering a girl a compliment?

"Yeah, uh, cute," Steve felt the need to add in a monotone and Jack mentally slapped him across the back of the head.

Jack rocked back on his heels and looked around. The driveway was suspiciously empty and he hadn't heard anyone talking or anything inside the house. Hell, as far as he could tell, there wasn't even a TV on. "Your parents home?" he asked and Kathy bit her bottom lip.

"Um …" she started.

"They aren't, are they?" He really should look into becoming a detective, he thought to himself. Sometimes he amazed even himself.

"Jack … you guys can't come in."

He took at step forward and leaned against the doorjamb, letting the pillow case full of candy swing against his leg. "We can't come in, but how about you come out? Hang with us, it'll be fun. Sure beats handing out candy all night and --" He looked over her shoulder. There was book on the steps behind her. "Are you reading?"

"Maybe."

He squinted, barely making out the title. "Pride and Prejudice," he read outloud.

"Why would you want to read that?" Steve said, his mouth hanging open in shock. "It doesn't even have any zombies in it."

Ignoring his friend, Jack persisted, not sure why, but he was determined to get her to leave that house even if it meant prying her out of the doorway with a crowbar. "Come on. The book ain't goin' anywhere but you only get one chance in a lifetime to go trick-or-treating with the ghost of Elvis and his sidekick, Sir Lame-a-lot."

"Hey," Steve protested but Jack's glare shut him up. Kathy hadn't said no, so there was still a chance and he didn't want Steve to say anything stupid to screw it up.

She was biting her nails as she glanced at her watch, the driveway and down the street. He'd never seen anyone so obviously think things over in their mind before – he could practically follow the silent conversation just by watching her eyes and the way her nose scrunched up sometimes. She was wavering and he'd lay down good money that she was going to say –

"Okay, I'll go."

XxXxXxXxXx

Jack walked down the street, flanked by Dorothy and King Arthur and he was bored out of his mind. "This is dumb."

"We know. You've said it a hundred times." Steve sighed, swiping the air with his cardboard sword, vanquishing some unseen enemy.

"Well it is. Dumb and lame," Jack complained.

"A hundred and one times," Steve said under his breath.

"The house is just two streets over. We can take a look at it and if it looks too scary or hardcore, we can just keep on walking. No sweat, right?" Jack had decided to wear his skull mask on the back of his head, the rubber band digging into his forehead. He thought about walking backwards to complete the illusion, but he walked straight into a pothole when he tried it.

"Well, lookee here," a loud voice cackled out behind them. "I always thought Dorothy was the one in the dress, not Toto. Guess you learn something new every day." The statement was followed by a chorus of hard edged laughter and Jack glanced over at Kathy. Even in the darkness he could tell she'd grown paler and he took a step closer to her.

He could hear heavy footsteps on the pavement behind them and soon they were joined by three boys – Matt Wilcox and his cronies.

Matt reached out and pulled on one of Kathy's pigtails and Jack jabbed his arm back, catching the jerk in the ribs with his elbow. "Relax, Mercer, just having a little fun."

"Go to hell, asshole."

"Oh, now I'm scared," Matt said in a sing-song voice that grated across Jack's nerves.

Jack stopped suddenly and whirled around. "Just back the fuck off," he hissed through clenched teeth.

"Ooh – the mutt is defending his bitch. I know all about you, Mercer. Your mommy got you from the pound." That made Matt's buddies laugh even harder, and Jack made a fist, ready to swing and take on all three guys by himself if he had to – figuring Steve and his cardboard sword weren't going to be worth shit in a fight.

Just as he pulled his arm back, red and blue lights flashed, breaking through the darkness and temporarily blinding him. "Jack," Kathy cried out, grabbing onto his arm to keep him from throwing that first punch.

He squinted into the headlights that were now pointed in their direction. Matt was frozen in place, but his friends were slowly backing up. The car door opened and a figure stepped into the light, the stance a familiar one that most kids in Detroit knew all too well. Cop. Didn't matter who or why – all that mattered was that it was a cop.

"Everything okay over here?" The shadowy figure spoke and Jack felt his shoulders sag in relief. He knew that voice. Lieutenant Green was more or less a friend of the family – more of a friend when it came to pick-up games and the occasional Sunday dinner, and less of one when it came to Evelyn stopping by the police station to bail out one of his brothers for getting caught doing something stupid.

The other door opened and his partner joined him. "Don't worry, Brown, I got this." Green waved his hand behind him, keeping his partner back. "Jack, is that you?"

"Yes, sir," he said as confidently as he could. He kind of liked Green – he seemed like a good guy, but it was hard to get past that badge.

"You kids aren't thinking of starting a fight or anything like that, now are you?"

"Never, sir," Steve supplied and Green chuckled.

"That's what I figured, but I just had to make sure." He took a step forward and looked Matt up and down. "I don't think I know you. You got a name?"

"M-Matt," he stammered, his face white as a sheet in the headlight.

"Well, Matt, I know how things can get on a night like tonight. Get all caught up in the excitement; maybe want to cause some trouble. But we both know that's a bad idea, right Matt?"

"Right, um, officer," Matt managed to say and Jack had a vision of him wetting his pants right then and there and he had to bite back a grin. It never failed – bullies always cowered when someone was bigger than them and you didn't get much bigger than a cop with a gun and a steady gaze and a calm voice.

Green nodded. "Have fun and head on home soon," he said as he walked back to his car. "I mean that, Jack – don't go pulling any Bobby Mercer stunts."

"Nothing to worry about, Green."

Green laughed again. "Yeah, where have I heard that before?"

The car pulled away and Matt stayed in place, his face a mix of humiliation and anger. "I should pound you right here, Mercer."

"Try it," Jack said, trying to sound tough. "Your backup is running away, though. Maybe you should go catch them?" He pointed down the street and Matt turned to look. His two friends were a block away and moving fast.

Matt took a step toward him, his jaw clenched. "You got --"

"I know - lucky. Whatever, man."

Matt disappeared into the darkness, hurling a string of curse words and insults back at them. Jack, Kathy and Steve all let out a collective sigh of relief. "Wow," was all Steve could say.

"Shit," Jack supplied, his hands suddenly shaking. He pulled a cigarette out of his jacket.

"Close one? Is that the saying?" Kathy said with a nervous laugh.

"Yeah, that's the saying," Jack muttered around the cigarette as he lit it. The three of them walked in silence for a few minutes, not really feeling much like going up to any of the houses that were still lit to beg for candy.

"I'm going to that house Bobby told me about, whether you guys are coming or not," Jack announced suddenly.

"What if it's really haunted?" Kathy asked, reaching out to grab his arm.

He finished his cigarette and dropped it on the pavement, grinding it out under his sneaker. "Look, we've almost been beaten up and nearly arrested, what else could go wrong?"