A/N : Hi, guys! Happy Valentine! This chapter is special because the length is DOUBLED than usual! This is my gift to you all!

And now I will announce you, the choice that wins from the last chapter is — A! So, you will get Will in this. A lot of him. Like half of this chapter is in his POV.

I'm very happy to those that participated last time. Thank you! For those who didn't choose A, please don't be sad.

Hope you love this — and this is self-Beta'ed, so, ignore my mistakes, pretty please?


To Matsoine : Thank you! I hope you love this, Mat—soine. Heheh. The Hannigram and Alrikas ship is strong in this one. Abigail is a big no-no. Have a nice day!

To Kacchan23 : Thanks! Sadly, there's no choice D. But fret not, dear reader! For that choice may not be a dream anymore! Well…at least in the upcoming chapters. Have a nice day!

To crimson-angel08 : Thank you. Family bonding will be coming soon! :D

To yuharu . kouji101 : Thank you for the review! No worry, Yuharu! A bambi costume is too cute! I'm afraid Hannibal and Will will keep Herkus to themselves instead. LOL. Hope you love this!

To jayswing96 : Thank you. Congrats! Your choice wins! Yep, turning Abigail away will be a lovely sight indeed! *Squeal* At some point, I actually ship both Henrikas and Alejandro too (I imagine them older, of course)! I even had their ship name — Alrikas! *Staring intensely* Join me on this ship! Hope you like this! Have a nice day!

To Eurydice Anstice : Thanks! I love your name, btw. Your choice wins — aren't you happy? As much as how I tempted to bring the dogs in, I can't! But there is a dog in this. I hope this chapter will make you happy! Have a great day!

To LuckyNumber1 : Thanks! You're lucky your choice is picked as the winner, LuckyNumber1! Yeah, happy memory for Herkus. With both Al and Will. Have a nice day!

To kitty tokyo uzumaki : Thanks! No option D, sadly. But Murder Family is getting near! You can almost taste it! *Cackle* Wow! Reread from the beginning? Again? Please do! Have a nice day!

To DDarklolita : Thanks! I giggled reading your comment! I hope you love this one! Have a good day!

To Lady Sarahi Peverell : Thanks! Choice A wins. You get a glimpse of Hannibal's reaction to Herkus' religious practice — nice guess! Have a good day!

To murksiuke : Thank you for the review. Sadly, I can't hear your prayers. *Giggle* I love your plot though. Very tempting. I may, or may not do what you wrote, in the near future, actually. Nice guess. Have a nice day — I hope you enjoy this one!

To Yoyo : Thank you very much! OMG! That choice with Alana seemed so great…! *Shining eyes* Yoyo, your ideas are magnificent! That one about Hannibal…I love it. *Squeal* The second comment practically make my day! Thanks for sharing it! I love it, so much so, that I'm thinking to make a one-shot of that plot. I'm dead serious. It will be so cute and creepy and fluffy! Please, brilliant one, share more! Hope you will enjoy my take on this — have a great day!

To TheBlueMenace : Thank you! You'll be glad to know that your choice wins. Oh no, dear reader, you're mistaken. Abigail is worth the screen time — as a cannon fodder! *Cackle* I mean, if we want to highlight Herkus' cuteness overload, we gotta have a bad guy here. And I don't write things that don't interest me, what I do love to write are fillers and fluffs and gores (coming soon). Heheh. If you think the flow is disrupted to Abigail, well, my bad. Hope you like this. Have a good day.

To hellkiss : Thank you! Glad you love the last chapter. Al doesn't exactly have alexithymia, even the doctors don't quite know how to classify him as. But yes, he can't actually differ between emotions. Like Asperger a bit. But more sociable? Yes! Hannibal did have an Aunt! Her name's Murasaki. Abigail wants an out from her current situation. Btw, your choice wins! Have a nice day!

To Sassy Lord : Thank you! Typos are bad, true. Sorry that your choice didn't win. Self-insert fic, huh? That would be hilarious. *Snickering* I hope you're okay now. Because you seemed stress. Have a nice day!

To Random Person 94 : Thank you! Yes, Abigail wouldn't be allowed to supervise — normally. With how Hannibal tended to break the rules, I just can imagine him persuading the pest and Will to let her out. *Steamy eyes* Hannibal can be…convincing with Will. *Giggling* Yeah! Jack as a curse word — let's spread it! Have a nice day.

To shygirlbobby : Thank you! I hope the project had gone well for you. Al is indeed a good influence on Herkus and vice versa. Hope you enjoy this! Have a great day!

To wineybrat : Thanks! Sorry that your choice didn't win. But Al is being a good bro in this! Please, be addicted more to this fic! *Cackling* Have a great day!

To Penguinvamp4245 : Thanks! Sadly, your choice didn't win. But you can see Herkus being cruel to Abigail in later chapters though. I always imagine Hannibal as a doting Papa. Like the foolish one. The one that goes "My child is the best" and so on. It cracked me up so many times when I imagined that. But, yeah, parental!Hannibal is so fudging cute.

To Sol : Thank you! I appreciate and love your comment very, very much! Heheh. Manipulative!Herkus can be seen in near future. I pity those who become his test subjects. You have a wondrous day too!

To Lupawolf67 : Thanks! Herkus is so cute, right? Adorable! Not much evil!Herkus in this, only cute!Herkus. Thank you for liking my puns! Have a great day!

To kaisonsheart : Thanks! It pleased me to see how much you enjoyed the story. I hope you like this one — have a great day!

To HarryPotterSlashFreakyFan, illusion4242564, Elina00, rain614, LovelyLivelyLady, caged21hearts, DRINKnotTHINK13, call me doctor, Person 105, Lady . Evangeline . Evans, Guest 1 (Anony-moose), nedra . auervara, R. A Cross, dantexsin, nero1493, Shadow12300, Alexandria-reid-Winchester, Guest 2, Luziefers nightmare, domestic fanperson, Guest 3, meep615, JellyfishSugar, dustyboy1209, FanWarrior16, Rabid Jellybaby, wingedsilverfang222, Melrose437, dannibaby, ironicOglogoth, InArduisFidelis-RAMC, stormy0626, OlivineWK, Ann55, SailorSenpai156, ThePaintedHand, Darkest Melody, Audrey, twix655, pansyandy, FastlyFadingIntoDarkness, KyRa-ChAn008, Guest 4, Logan Quiller, riamaichi, Guest 5, Guest 6, Lyndai, Elvira Silver, PotterB2utyElf, Pacifistic Brat, Guest 7, , Guest 8, Azalka, Haraldr, Guest 9, Little Red, LunaSunFlowerLily, Ana, HourOfDawn, DevoraDeath, Guest 10 : Thank you very much! For reviewing and participating from the last chapter — it means a lot to me! For those whose choice didn't win, I hope you still like this chapter. Have a great day, everyone!


General warning : Swearings, past child abuse, mention of rape, slash, cannibals, dark creatures.

Pairing : Hannibal/Will

Disclaimer : I do not own Harry Potter and Hannibal series.


Chapter 29 : Trick-Or-Treat

When the silhouette of Miss Thompson's car receded from view, so was his smile. Huffing, Henrikas entered the house, leaving Hannibal at the entrance. The lingering scent of the social worker's perfume irritated Henrikas even further. Because the perfume was actually pleasant. The last thing he wanted was to relate the woman to something nice.

He wondered if he could persuade Hannibal to not let her inside the house next time.

"You shouldn't display that kind of expression in front of guests," Hannibal commented mildly as he came into the living room and picked up the used cups and placed them on a tray.

"What kind of expression?"

"As if you're about to rip her vocal chords out."

Henrikas frowned and subconsciously touched his face, wondering if he had slipped his intention in front of the female before dismissing the idea. He crossed his arms. "If she stops bothering us then I'll think about it — and I didn't show this kind of face to her."

He was confident of it. Hannibal was just being…Hannibal again.

"Why did you display such hostility towards Miss Thompson?" Hannibal questioned with no particular inflection in his voice. "You realise that this visitation is for your own well-being, do you?"

"I don't need her help," Henrikas said, clipped and irritable. Scowling, he added, "I'll ask myself if I need one."

Henrikas flushed under the doubtful look that the psychiatrist had given him.

"You have to commend her dedication, Herkus," the older cannibal chided, "After all, she is doing what is required of her."

He was still dissatisfied with that kind of reasoning. Henrikas was happy living with Hannibal. There was no need to investigate their…living arrangement.

"So, does that mean that you commend Mr Crawford's dedication too? Because he also just doing his job?"

Even if said job seemed to weigh heavily on Will.

Henrikas frowned, perplexed, as he stared at Hannibal's back after the older cannibal gave him a non-committal smile at his enquiry.

Just several days ago, the psychiatrist had invited the Crawfords to a dinner. They didn't have children of their own, so it was only Mr and Mrs Crawford who attended. Perhaps Hannibal wanted to integrate himself familiarly to the Head of BSU, or it could be that Hannibal just wanted to socialize.

Henrikas doubted that was the case for the latter.

Despite living for months with the psychiatrist, Henrikas still didn't understand Hannibal's objective sometimes. Reading Hannibal was like trying to see past the stillness of the water, waiting for something to appear from the lurking darkness only to see the reflection of oneself on the surface.

Henrikas turned away from his musings on the Crawfords and what Hannibal's intention towards them might mean when a bowl of fruits was slid in front of him. He absently grabbed a fork and stabbed a piece of peach; his thoughts weren't going anywhere, anyway. His initial annoyance over the female vanished without a trace when the cold, sweet flesh entered his mouth. He hummed in satisfaction. Piercing another piece of fruit, Henrikas suddenly recalled something and quickly moved into the kitchen.

Hannibal's eyes narrowed, expression disapproving, when he noticed the bowl in his hand. "Do we have any more apples in this house?" Henrikas asked, shooting an apologetic and embarrassed look at the man.

Hannibal sighed softly but didn't reprimand him. The psychiatrist took the bowl from him and put it on the counter. Knowing what Hannibal was currently ticked about, Henrikas prudently climbed onto the stool and continued to eat his snack.

"Yes, I bought several of them, in fact," said Hannibal as he resumed washing the tableware.

"May I have one?" Henrikas enquired, then, pondered for a moment, "But not now."

"Of course," Hannibal replied agreeably, taking a brief glance at him. "May I ask why?"

Henrikas ate another piece of fruit — a kiwi, this time. He idly wondered what kind of fruits were all there. "I want to use it as an offering." Noticing Hannibal's inquisitive look, he continued, "For my parents."

"Is this related to your religion?" There was no condemnation in the psychiatrist's tone, like Henrikas had been expecting, only pure curiosity. Henrikas nodded without hesitation. The older cannibal hummed then stared at him with a knowing look, "Is there anything else you need?"

Henrikas blinked and gave Hannibal a sheepish smile. "Yeah. Do you have candles?"

"I believe there is none," Hannibal answered, "No matter. We can purchase some tomorrow."

He grinned, "Thank you, Hannibal." Then he paused, hesitating, "Um, would you mind if I bury the apple near the front door?"

Hannibal had been agreeable to most parts but Henrikas knew the older cannibal dislike it when someone was messing with his territory. He witnessed Hannibal disembowelled someone who Hannibal claimed had carelessly littered on his compound two years ago. His liver was particularly tasty though. And his brain was still in the freezer.

"It's alright to do so, but," Hannibal paused, "may I accompany you when you do the ritual?"

Henrikas stared at Hannibal in surprise before smiling, "Alright."

"Do you also require turnip or pumpkin?" Henrikas tilted his head questioningly with the fork in his mouth. "For carving."

He huffed and waved his hand, "Not this time. Maybe next one," he commented absently. "When I actually know how to carve."

His artwork was abysmal in this body, what with the poor motor controls and all that tiny little details. It was the reason why his drawings looked like it was drawn by a toddler. Granted, his body was that of one, but Henrikas digressed.

"I see," Hannibal nodded thoughtfully, "Would you like me to teach you?"

Henrikas blinked then blinked some more. He considered that offer for a moment, weighing the benefits before pointing out, "Aren't you busy?"

Since Hannibal had taken quite some time from work to take care of him, he rescheduled most of his patients' appointments. Henrikas felt bad about it but Hannibal assured him that he wasn't a bother; a vacation of sorts, the psychiatrist had said.

However, Hannibal wasn't just busy with his patients.

Apparently, the older cannibal had taken to make Henrikas' Halloween attire (he refused to call it a costume) into his own hands when they realised what Henrikas wanted couldn't possibly be arrived before Halloween. He was torn into feeling glad, amused and guilty to Hannibal for going such length until he remembered that it was the psychiatrist's fault in the first place.

The guilt abruptly disappeared at that remembrance.

"Teaching how to carve doesn't take a considerable amount of time," Hannibal waved away his concern. "Unless," the psychiatrist smirked, "the teacher has, unfortunately, a mediocre student."

Henrikas twitched.

"I'll be bothering you then, teacher."

He flushed with slight annoyance at Hannibal's chuckle when he realised that he had behaved exactly as the psychiatrist had expected of him. Henrikas pursed his lips, grumbling at his poor self-control, as he consoled himself by stuffing his mouth with yet another piece of sweet goodness.

Quick to happy, quick to anger — Henrikas loathed being a child.

Hannibal and Will didn't seem to mind his childishness or mood swings in the slightest though (more so in Hannibal since Henrikas had lived with the man), which was strange in his opinion. He thought that adults favoured those docile and obedient children. But then he reminded that those were the traits that the Potters preferred. It was distasteful of Henrikas to compare Hannibal and Will to them.

Henrikas thanked Hannibal when he took the emptied bowl and washed it for him. He glanced at the clock, realising that it would be quite some time before Alejandro would come. Nowadays, Henrikas was looking forward to the red-haired boy's visits more and more since Hannibal didn't let him outside of his supervision. It was getting quite stifling. The only time when he was left alone in his own company was when the older cannibal had his patients — which meant that Henrikas would be stuck on the room beside Hannibal's office while he drew or read to pass the time.

Ever since his kidnapping incident, the older cannibal was stricter. It was only when Hannibal put some rules that Henrikas realised that the psychiatrist had been pretty lenient on him before.

Henrikas wished he had released Mrs Kelly from her confine back then.

"May I go outside today?" Henrikas asked tentatively, "Not outside — outside. Just outside the house. At the compound. Please?"

Hannibal's russet eyes were neutral and Henrikas could feel his focus like a looming shadow. Then there was an almost imperceptible change in his gaze, less penetrating and more warmth. Henrikas released his breath that he wasn't aware held.

"Of course. There are foldable chairs in the storage, I believe. Would that suffice?"

Henrikas nodded; he wasn't sure what kind of face Hannibal would display if he told him that they were fine sitting on the grass.

~X~

Red lines glided across countless of papers before Will realised that he wasn't exactly paying attention to what he was doing. The nonsensical words were smudged with bloated wet ink, making them even more incomprehensible to even the writer himself. Guilty rose and vanished as abruptly when he noted the name of the student. A particularly snobbish one; this could be an act of petty revenge for all those headaches he had given Will. He hadn't a favourite. Only ones that he could handle and ones that he wished hadn't joined the academy.

Having high standards would only leave disappointment and Will couldn't be bothered to nurse that kind of feeling. He couldn't afford to.

Will decided against finishing marking the rest of the papers. It wouldn't do well for a professor to be this unreliable. Stacking the papers aside, his eyes fell on his phone, mind slithering back to the surprising message that he had gotten from his so-called psychiatrist.

It had been ages since he went trick-treating, when he was still yea high and liked those rottenly cheap candies—it was a better fill than an empty stomach—that distributed all around the neighbourhood. He recalled trying to fill the plastic bag as much as he could and then return home to share his salvages with his Dad. Rosy cheeks puffed with candies and smiley faces.

It was one of the particularly good memories Will had with Graham Sr.

As he grew, he found less of those fond ones because the bottles kept stacking high. But Will couldn't find in his heart to hate Charles "Charlie" Graham too much.

Not the same could be said about resentment.

"Grading?"

Alana entered the lecture hall with clicking heels and flowy blouse, accentuating all the nice curves on her own person yet still displayed a gentle modesty. The kind that made the others wanted to take another look.

He was reminded of a rather young female high school teacher with a notable figure that most male students had not so secretly lusted, wishing their girlfriends had that kind of physique. Hormones driven, teenage years were filled with thoughts about sex and fucking in general. It made biology class painfully obnoxious with giggly boys and shy girls; teasing gazes and whispers. Will recalled spending most of his high school years avoiding everyone gazes and holed up in the library.

Alana Bloom was beautiful and her warm reception made her popular among the lecturers and students alike. It was very easy to like her — falling in love, even. She was stable, which was why Will was one of her 'fans' not too long ago, but not anymore. Or, at least, not as profound.

Imagining Alana in his bed was easy, he'd gotten the mind—most males had this kind of creativity towards the fairer sex after all—to construct the scene, her body splayed across the mattress. But Will's fantasy didn't revolve around that highly pursued female professor any longer.

Not since the day he woke up with feverish skin and damp boxers with faint memories of a sturdy chest on his back and warm, moist lips mouthing in his ears. Callous fingers instead of delicate ones. Low, deep timbre instead of silvery, higher pitched voice.

And if Will recalled it long enough, the voice was accented too — one that he was definitely familiar with.

"Will?" Alana spoke, her brows drawn together in concern, "Are you alright?"

He wasn't, Will wanted to say, but he didn't want the female in front of him prying about when he was starting to question his sexual inclination. There was a thin line between admiration and sex given in a situation. Will had plenty of the former towards a certain older man, but only recently, dreams and thoughts about the latter.

Will tried to smile, but even he could tell that it was a strained one when he realised how stiff it felt on his lips. He rubbed his face instead. "I'm fine," he gave her a wry look. "It's just the papers."

"Grammars?" Alana asked in sympathy, Will imagined there was a knowing look in her eyes.

He wasn't going to correct her assumption.

She stepped closer, eyes roving across the room before resting on his form again. Will stared at her right cheek. A stray of hair curled to her face, tempting fingers to gently tuck behind her ear. Will's hand stayed put.

"How are you, Will?"

Displeasure rose at the question. It was going to be one of those again, he mused. He wondered what was the point having Hannibal as his psychiatrist if Alana was going to ask this kind of questions too. But then he thought that was unfair of him since she had a genuine concern for his well-being.

Alana Bloom was a friend.

She respected his wishes to be left alone, though Will couldn't comprehend how that would translate to her being this…cosy with Will. Alana must have seen something in him: fragile Will, broken Will. He wasn't the only one having the poor habit of helping strays. Though that would degrade Alana's intention — and Will himself.

Will didn't like psychiatrists, period, but he could make do with one that could talk back to Jack.

Not many would — especially one that would do that for Will.

So, Will turned his eyes blind to those sad gazes even though he was highly irritated by them. He appreciated the fact that the woman tried.

Will could count on his fingers the people that actually gave a damn about him, even if the concern was in the guise of sympathy. Or a mixture of it, anyway. Compassion of friends was difficult for him to bear. And the sympathy of strangers could easily curdle into pity.

Strangers pitied him, for some reason. A look here and there. Faint smiles and grunt of acknowledgement. Yet they wouldn't come near him like he was some kind of disease. As if they were afraid that by taking a closer look, their insecurities and doubts would pop for all to see. Will loathed the look, but he preferred that kind of treatment because he wasn't fond of them looking too close to him too.

Win-win situation.

"I'm fine."

"Fine is a relative term, Will," Alana sighed softly, like a mother who reminded her children times and times again to wash their hands before eating only to fall on deaf ears. "How is Jack treating you?"

That was a million dollar question — one that Will wasn't quite sure how to answer.

He settled with slouching his posture instead.

Putting up defences—higher defences—now would only alarm Alana. Will could deal with Jack himself. He thought he could. He pretended he could. Recalling how the man had been displeased being told straight that he couldn't handle looking anymore had rankled. But the man was distraught over the possibility that his wife had cancer.

Said possibility had become a fact when the man confronted his wife.

It was human's nature to die at one point in life — but knowing the impending death was another thing altogether. When not being reminded of how mortal a human was, a person could go out his or her days normally, oblivious to the fact that the body was slowly being eaten by time.

Cancer was a dreadful thing. Absent spouses, ignorant children. The former wasn't due to lack of trying, but not being able to comprehend what their significant other had undergone frightened them to the core. It churned their stomach, seeing their loved one deteriorating into someone — something else.

Resentments were thrown all around, the prominent questions being: Why me? Why him? Why her? Why us? Why?

It was what Elliot Budish was on about, albeit on a more dangerous thread of thoughts. At the end of the day, Elliot Budish was only a human who had a healthy fear of death who didn't know the way to cope with that knowledge.

And Jack was only but a human.

"He's," Will paused, considering his next words carefully, "…grieving."

Alana didn't seem to be confused by that, almost like she had been predicting the answer. She knew, of course. Almost all close associates of Jack Crawford knew about Mrs Crawford's condition. Will never knew her personally, but looking at Jack, Will could sympathise with their plight. Clearly, she meant a lot to him when her…state had managed to reduce Jack's composure into dust.

"That doesn't give him excuses to exploit you, Will," Alana said, then amended, "More than usual."

Will snorted, "I can handle Jack, Alana. I'm fine."

Are you? — Will could practically taste the question coming from Alana's unimpressed stare.

He sighed, placing a palm on the back of his neck.

"I think I'm just a bit stressed." Alana raised an eyebrow at that. "Maybe I'm coming down with something," Will forced his mouth to keep moving lest it stuck on somewhere darker, somewhere sinister. "There's flu going around and the academy being short-staffed isn't helping."

Will, technically, wasn't lying. Just this week, several professors took absent leave due to said ailments. This afternoon, Will had to take over two classes. Not that he particularly mind since he had been playing hooky as of late. Even when he had taken some time for himself, there was still an impressive amount of vacation and sick leave left.

"You do look paler than usual," Alana commented, her eyes no doubt honing on the faint trace of eye bags beneath his eyes. Will didn't think it was that bad. "You should take better care of yourself, Will."

Will wanted to bristle in anger, to justify himself. He looked after himself just fine long before he met her. He did none of that, only grunted in agreement. Wetting his lips, he briefly observed her again and wondered if she had any other intention than just asking about his well-being.

"About this Halloween…"

'— are you invited?' the question died in his throat.

He swallowed heavily, clearing his voice and instead asked, "What is your plan this Halloween?"

Alana stared at him in a pleased surprise that Will had to hold himself from reacting. As a general rule, Will wasn't one to start small talks. He saw no point in doing so. The bland conversations about everyday lives of others, he wasn't interested in them.

But that wasn't an actual truth, was it?

"I promised my niece and nephews to trick-or-treating," Alana answered with a fond smile, her eyes gazing into a distance, no doubt seeing faces of toothy smile children.

Will bit back his tongue. It was almost too easy to respond with 'what a coincidence'. Only, Will didn't have any nephews or niece to spoil with. What he had, instead, was a child relative of his psychiatrist.

The same psychiatrist that had appeared in his dreams lately.

"What about you, Will?" Alana asked expectantly, her smile kind. "Any arrangement?"

"I'll probably spend the day with my dogs," he lied without missing a beat, surprising himself.

Will already knew who he would be spending his time with, even if he wasn't sure how to act around the older Lecter without embarrassing himself, but he was reluctant to share that tidbit of information with the female in front of him.

When Alana gave him an easy, knowing smile, Will felt a hint of guilt rose in his gut before he dismissed the feeling.

He hadn't done anything wrong.

~X~

Henrikas held his mug the way a disaster victim would, cradling this smallest of warm comforts with reverence. The hot cocoa slid easily into his throat, heating his body from the cold wind of the autumn chill.

"I'm…concern to see how easy it is to bribe you," he commented lightly as he took another sip of his favourite drink.

Alejandro, whose hand was in the middle of reaching another one of Hannibal's baked goods, stopped. Grey eyes caught like a deer in headlights. The red-haired boy gave him a sheepish smile before helping himself to yet another cookie. Henrikas quirked a small smile.

"Sorry," he said. "Your guardian really knows how to bake sweets. These are simply marvellous."

Henrikas secretly preened at the compliment.

"Even if that is the truth, there is no need for you to behave like a starved man."

In actuality, there was no problem with Alejandro's manners. He kept his mouth shut when he chewed, he didn't let the crumbles to fall all over him, and the most important thing was that Alejandro had appreciated the food. But despite the properness of those things, Henrikas was getting annoyed to see his cookies being demolished one by one.

Henrikas hadn't taken a bite yet.

"Oh," Alejandro breathed, his eyes flickered as if he realised something. He looked at the cookies, then to Henrikas. "My bad. I should probably save you some," he smiled, apologetic, "But these are really, really good. I just can't help myself."

Henrikas flushed at his exposed intention but at the same time, very pleased at the admission. Again. He cleared his throat, "I'm just kidding, Al. You can eat however many you want — just eat slower, please."

Alejandro nodded, picking up another cookie and handed it to him, "Here. I'm afraid that if you don't start eating one, I'll finish them all by myself."

Henrikas could point out that there were more in the kitchen, but he didn't.

"Thank you," Henrikas said as he took a bite. Because of the rich taste of the cocoa lingered in his mouth, the hint of lemon was highlighted; there was a stark contrast between sweet, bitter and sour. Henrikas could see how Alejandro was getting obsessed. "Did you bring it?"

The red-haired boy took a sip of the hot chocolate before answering, "I couldn't bring a laptop, but I have a substitute."

Henrikas stared curiously as the boy produced a rectangle-shaped thing from his bag. It was familiar, the device. "Is that a tablet?"

Hannibal had one if he wasn't mistaken.

"Bingo," Alejandro nodded. "Don't worry, Henrikas, this can be used to help with…whatever the things you want me to do." He shrugged. "Should be."

"Can you search people with it?" Henrikas asked as he dragged the foldable chair near Alejandro and peeked at the gadget.

"Sure," he replied, shifting his arm so that Henrikas could view better. "Does this person have a Facebook? Twitter?"

"A what?"

Alejandro stared at him for a moment before shaking his head, "Never mind, Henrikas. I'll teach you about social media later." He tapped on the tablet and Henrikas watched, enraptured, when the screen popped out things, just like the first time when he used his phone. "I hope you have the name of the person you're looking for, at least."

"Of course," Henrikas scowled before his indignation fell into curiosity. "Can you still find a person without knowing their name though?"

Alejandro nodded, an odd glimmer in his eyes. "Yes, but that will be quite difficult." Henrikas hummed at the reply. "So, name?"

Henrikas inhaled and whispered, "James Potter."

Alejandro typed in the name without asking any questions. It made him all the more likeable in Henrikas' eyes. There were several James Potter popped out in the search engine, but without pictures, Henrikas wasn't sure which was which.

He hummed, "Do you know where he lives?"

"England," Henrikas said. "London."

Alejandro, once again, keyed in the words, but this time there was no result whatsoever. Returning to the initial page, he picked random James Potters from the search engine and showed Henrikas images of strangers having the same name as his abductor. Some of the pictures come from a site that Alejandro had uttered; Facebook. None of which Henrikas had recognised.

"Some people — most people don't use their real names in social media," Alejandro commented suddenly. Henrikas raised his eyebrows questioningly and the red-haired boy continued, "They used a fake name, an alias, like…Buttercup or something."

"Buttercup?"

"That's just an example," Alejandro replied with a grin. He gazed at Henrikas, pondering, "I suppose you don't have a picture of his?"

Henrikas quickly shook his head, scowling; if he had one, he would burn it immediately. "It's fine even if we didn't find anything about them, Alejandro. I'm just checking." He paused. "Can you find another person for me?"

Alejandro nodded. "Just say the name."

There was nothing on Lily Potter. So did Charlus and Sirius. When they were in the middle of typing in the name of the Headmaster of Hogwarts, the tablet made a tiny sound before popping out a notification: low battery. Shortly after, the screen turned black.

Henrikas stared enquiringly at Alejandro as the boy gave him an apologetic look. "Sorry, Henrikas. I forgot to charge."

Henrikas waved his concern away, "It doesn't matter. We can continue this later."

While he was eased at the fact that he wouldn't find a doppelganger of them in this world, the one that they already searched at the very least, he was troubled as to how he could explain about his abuses when his abductors were practically non-existent.

Should he find a scapegoat?

"So, how's the preparation for your costume?" Alejandro asked as he put the device back into his bag, reeling Henrikas from his muse. "Any progress?"

"Ask Hannibal," Henrikas answered before frowning, "And don't call it a costume."

Alejandro blinked. "What do you call it then?"

"…attire."

"Fair enough." He shrugged and grinned, "Are you looking forward to Halloween?"

No, he thought. Not at all. Especially since there would be a pest tagging along.

"I don't know," he sighed, taking his mug and sipped the hot chocolate. Even his favoured drink couldn't appease his annoyance.

"Why is that?"

"A," Henrikas paused, frowning.

What was the pest to Hannibal and Will? Acquaintance? A victim they had saved together? Not quite, he thought, recalling them saying about a surrogate daughter. Dark, ugly thing slithered in his stomach at the aforementioned.

Since he couldn't actually make someone sick using his power, that would only leave him with the choice to influence her mind. But there was Hannibal and Will. Not to mention that prolong use of his Nymph's power would make him weak.

How distasteful.

Henrikas was startled to see Alejandro's face peering closer.

"What are you doing, Joshua?"

Alejandro frowned at the mention of that name, "Nothing. You just went quiet all of a sudden and then you make a scary face. I was wondering if you're okay."

"Scary face?" Henrikas couldn't help but repeated wryly.

The red-haired boy nodded, "Yes. Like, you're really angry about something." Alejandro took another cookie from the plate. "Wanna tell me what's that all about? Maybe I can help."

"I don't think so."

He took a bite of the baked good before smiling, "Try me."

Henrikas stared dubiously before letting out a sigh. "Someone is going to accompany us during trick-treating. Other than Hannibal. Someone that I…dislike."

"Someone you hate," Alejandro corrected. Henrikas looked at him with narrow-eyed. "Hey, you look really, really angry back then."

"Fine," huffed Henrikas, crossing his arms. "Someone I hate."

Alejandro watched him for a moment, gaze thoughtful, before he took out something from the bag and handed it to him. It was a blank sachet.

"What is this?" Henrikas asked curiously as he examined the small square-shaped envelope.

"Laxative."

Henrikas opened his mouth before closing them, frowning. "Why do you have a laxative in your bag?"

"So that I don't have to search for one when I need it — or at least, when my stepbrother needs it."

"What?"

"You see, Henrikas. My stepbrother is downright annoying," he explained, "If on that day his level of annoying goes beyond — well, beyond, I'll put some of this in his drink. It usually incapacitated him for two to three days. Give or take. It's fast acting." He snorted, "That numbskull still doesn't realise why he keeps visiting the toilet. It makes me ashamed that I actually shared a blood relation to him."

Henrikas blinked. He had never seen Alejandro this…enthusiastic in his rant.

Now that he had thought about it, the red-haired boy was usually the one who did the listening. Alejandro mostly spoke when he needed to explain something to Henrikas or to ask about him or his well-being in general.

Henrikas briefly wondered if he wasn't being a good company all this time.

"So," Henrikas said, ignoring the prick somewhere in his gut, "you bring this anywhere, anytime?"

Alejandro nodded solemnly.

"My Aunt said to 'strike while the iron is hot'," he grinned. "I know she doesn't mean it like that, but well, yeah, it works." Alejandro sipped on the drink, gulping audibly. "I'm guessing that someone will visit near Halloween?"

Henrikas bit his lips. The pest would visit on Halloween, at least that was what Hannibal had told him. He wondered how fast its effect was. There was also the fact as to how he could 'poison' the pest without Hannibal's knowing.

"Does this have a smell?"

~X~

Hannibal gently blew away the residue of the carved wood and took a step back to admire his artwork. Careful fingers traced the hollowed sockets, feeling the smooth aspen beneath his fingertips. It had been a while since he last sculpted. He was troubled that the long gap would affect his adroitness but observing the almost finished product in front of him, Hannibal was rather pleased by this unpremeditated project of his.

Leaving the tools on the desk, he covered the wood carving with a sheet of translucent plastic before switching off the lights and exited the room.

The night was still like any other day but tonight, the stillness was exceptionally spectacular. There was almost a taste of anticipation lingering on the air, teasing and prodding in its wake.

Hannibal silently entered Herkus' room and switched on the bed lamp. He placed a small stack of cards on the desk. His boy didn't stir.

Taking a moment to savour how deeply his boy was being embraced by Morpheus, Hannibal found his mouth twitched upwards at seeing his charge cuddling the toy that he was very much taken into. He caressed his smooth cheeks, fingers trailing from the boy's silky hair to the prominent scar on his forehead.

Herkus looked so peaceful in his slumber that Hannibal regretted that he had to wake the boy up.

"Herkus," Hannibal called, gently shaking his palm on the tiny shoulder. "Herkus, wake up."

Hannibal waited as the boy moved, stirring awake, only to find his hand being claimed by the little cannibal along with the doll. Warm breath puffed into the back of his hand as his boy mumbled incoherently in his sleep, a mixture of Lithuanian and English nonsenses.

Fondly patting the boy's head, he called his name again. This time the response came in a form of dissatisfied grumble and bleary eyes.

"Hannibal?" Green eyes squinted in the low light. The boy tried to stifle the sound of yawning but to no avail. Herkus released his hold over his hand in favour of rubbing his eye. "What are you doing here?"

"We have a plan tonight if you recall."

Herkus stared blankly at him before giving a sluggish nod. Pulling himself into a sitting position, the boy stretched. That gesture encouraged awareness in his green eyes.

"You didn't tell me about the plan," he pointed out, "Only telling me to sleep early."

"Yes, I did," Hannibal agreed. Picking up all five cards from the desk, he lined them up in front of Herkus. They were the ones that he had carefully chosen from the Rolodex. "I want you to pick a card."

His boy stared at him and the cards then at him again, expression dubious.

"…if you wake me up just to show a magic trick I will be highly disappointed, Hannibal."

"Your complaint is noted."

~X~

He could scream all he liked, though the obstruction in his mouth would prevent that.

They were underground, he assumed, a place he didn't know. And he was being, for the lack of better word, punished. Buzz from the alcohol had already burnt out long by now, leaving stinging pain in its wake, hangover pounding harshly. He couldn't hear anything, save for the hypnotizing sound of dripping water coming from a faucet somewhere, which spoke volume since his kidnapper was just standing over him not more than five feet away. That would explain how the man could get past his defenses – he was stealthy. Or he'd been drinking himself to oblivion until he didn't know up and down anymore. Or both.

His bare toes curled on the tiled ground, the unknown man had taken off his shoes before he was even on the brink of awareness. His eyes were closed. If he opened them he knew he would see a blurred vision. That was the undesirable aftereffect of downing liquors. He must be mistaken: he didn't drink all that much. He tried to pry open his eyes again. It wasn't as blurry. After a couple of blinks, he could make out the figure of his assailant, only barely though. The man wore a blurry suit if there was such a thing.

Who did he piss off to warrant him this treatment?

He tried listing all the names who would love to take him down a peg or two. They were awfully long: his temperamental boss, his busybody co-workers, his annoying neighbours, his girlfriends and ex-girlfriends. It wasn't the first time angry boyfriends came looking for him, but being kidnapped by them was a rarity. He could count on his fingers when it actually happened. They were usually a little…gentler than this though. No gag, at least.

His kidnapper must have been royally pissed to resort to this method.

His toes shifted against the tiles, the only movement he could make without jarring his head. He was starting to get nervous now. Whenever he tried to speak, he could feel his tongue drying even further; the gag absorbed his saliva to the point of choking. These angry boyfriends usually roughed him up first but at the end of the day, they would still let him go. Granted, he wouldn't come out of it unscathed: bruised body, a cracked rib or two. Some would even leave scars. Ladies dug men with scars — they thought it was sexy.

But looking at the fine specimen in front of him, he didn't think his kidnapper belonged in the category of those jealous lovers. It would be a miracle if any of the girls he dated manage to get themselves this kind of catch.

So, he could cross out his girlfriends from the lists then, which would leave him with his boss, co-workers and neighbours. The last one could be crossed out too since he would've remembered if this guy was living beside his house. Not really. Who was he kidding? Having a short-lived memory sucked, though he only got himself to fault. His brain cells probably short-circuited long ago with how he tended to abuse his alcohol intake.

Or the silent kidnapper could be a hired person.

Weird shit happened nowadays. Not too long ago he read something about a syndicate smuggling people in and out of the country. The lack of other people in his surrounding told him a different story. Another speculation went.

Ransom?

This kidnapper of his would be highly disappointed then.

His sperm donor wouldn't give even a cent — that fucker loved his money a little too much. His mother, on the other hand, would trade everything that she possessed to get him out of the harmful way. Not that she could do that anymore. She was already dead. It was strange, having a set of parents with disparity in inclination. It begged the questions about opposite attracted, or the love had died out somewhere along the marriage.

This wasn't the time to think about those, he thought, not when he was being bounded and gagged and stranded at God knows where.

His head jerked at the sound of soft footsteps. He was getting side-tracked by being able to hear clearly again, no more hearing sounds like his head was being put under the water, and the fact that there was another one. If there was no gag in his mouth though, he was pretty sure that profanity would spew from his mouth because all he could think when he first saw the newcomer was: what the fuck?

Even when he had already blinked so many times, the strange sight still greeted him. There was a kid. Here, in the underground.

A small kid with a big ass knife in his hand.

What the actual fuck?

Either he was in a very bad episode of Twilight Zone or his eyes were playing tricks on him. Sadly, there were no staffs holding the lights or someone telling him that it was only a practical joke.

A very bad practical joke.

There was another theory that he had come up with — one that he had strongly denied when the thought crossed his mind. After all, he only read this kind of thing happened on the news. He hadn't paid any mind on the papers too much, didn't follow them religiously like some people would. But even he could see that he wasn't being kidnapped due to petty revenge of jealous boyfriends or for ransom.

He was kidnapped by a fucking psychopath.

That made his chance of getting out here alive close to zero.

"See? I told you." He heard the boy said. There was a childish glee in his tone similar to a kid who just got a Christmas's present. There was nothing innocent about a kid waving a fucking machete with a smile on his face. "Now he shows a reaction."

The silent man finally made a sound; a soft sigh. He looked, and this time, his vision was as clear as a day. It wasn't a blurry suit that he saw. Well, the kidnapper did wear a suit — but he was wearing something else on top.

Was it a…transparent coverall?

And the boy was wearing one too.

What the fuck?

"Please don't make this knife waving into a habit," the man said. "It's unbecoming."

"…it's just a joke," the boy replied, his tone petulant like a child who had been denied candy. "I promise I'll not do it again."

The last sentence was morbidly telling. Again. They, the kid and the kidnapper, had been planning to do this again. Seeing how calm their states were, he could tell that he wasn't their first abductee. They must have done this before. This lead back to his line of thought: what the fuck?

He'd not only been abducted by just a killer, he'd been abducted by a serial killer.

"Oh, look. He's shaking."

~X~

Hannibal exhaled softly as he decidedly disregarded his little boy's act of taunting the pig into trepidation.

It occurred, on occasion, where his victim didn't show any indication of being alarmed, brain still processing facts to explain the situation they had fallen into. Being under the influence of drugs didn't assist in their favour either. He once had the opportunity to witness a victim, who, from the beginning until the end, denied what was happening to them even when Hannibal presented their own intestines to their eyes.

Human brains were curious things.

Wheeling in the table, Hannibal locked the casters in place as he examined the tools that he had prepared beforehand. It might be remembrance from his surgeon days, but Hannibal was quite fond using a scalpel. Since tonight's stage was Herkus', there were varieties of sharp instruments instead of consisting only Hannibal's favoured ones.

"What are you doing?"

Hannibal's eyes briefly rest on his little cannibal. Herkus was still holding the machete in his hand; only, the weapon wasn't in a former pristine condition. There was a thin line of red on the sharp edge of the broad, heavy knife.

"Inspecting. Are you insisting to use that one for tonight?" Hannibal enquired; a complicated feeling rose in his heart. "Isn't it quite heavy for you?"

Machete wasn't a weapon of choice that he would normally approve. The reason why it had been brought along in the cabin was that Hannibal had been using it to cut through plants that obstructed certain paths.

Herkus flushed, gaze darting away as he presented the machete to him, "I told you that's just a joke." Taking the weapon from the boy's hand, Hannibal placed it on the table. It disturbed the arrangement that Hannibal had so carefully positioned. "So, what's next?"

Henrikas stared at him expectantly that Hannibal couldn't help but smile.

"I'm hoping that you will tell me."

His boy's eyes flickered in recognition. Under the light, he could see his pupils dilated. Herkus was clearly thrilled at the notion of being the one in charge of harvesting the meat of the pig.

"First, we should find a suitable knife for you to use."

Hannibal picked his boy up, lips twitching upwards when there was no sound of protest coming from Herkus' mouth. His little cannibal was particularly eager, it seemed. Herkus' sharp intake of breath resounded in the basement when his eyes honed into the table, or more accurately, what was placed on the said table. Tiny, little fingers hovered in uncertainty, undecided.

Chewing his lips, his boy asked, "Which one do you usually use, Hannibal?"

Smiling at the indirect request for assistance, Hannibal picked out his favoured blade. "A scalpel."

Herkus giggled, though the little cannibal tried to smother the sound. "Are you playing doctor?"

"I am a doctor, Herkus."

Herkus hummed, observing the scalpel on his hand. "Can you teach me?"

"Of course."

Placing the boy on the ground, he gave Herkus the blade. Due to his non-existent experience in handling a scalpel, Herkus managed to position it like he was holding a pencil. Amusement cascaded in the tendril of his veins. Correcting Herkus' posture, he demonstrated to his charge several times before the boy was assured with his grip.

"Is this why you bound the man on the chair rather than on the table?"

"How observant of you," he complimented.

While the table accommodated to Hannibal's, the same couldn't be said to his charge since it was higher than Herkus' height. Binding the pig to the chair might make it difficult to manoeuvre, but at least it was within his boy's reach.

It would end up with a mess, of that was a certainty.

"What should I do first? Where do I start?" Henrikas enquired as he walked towards the pig that was getting agitated.

Twitching body would make a clean cut difficult, but Hannibal wanted to avoid drugging any more than he should; it would affect the taste.

"Depending on what you want," Hannibal answered.

Herkus' eyes travelled up and down, examining in a distance. His head tilted slightly as he stared at Hannibal questioningly. "Can I see his heart beating?"

Hannibal smiled at the same time the pig shuddered.

"Yes, you can," he assured. "Though it will be quite tricky to operate around the ribs."

There was a clatter; the scalpel slipped away from the boy's hand. Herkus' green eyes went unfocused, gaze staring into a distance. Gone was the eagerness, leaving only an empty shell in his wake. Alarmed, Hannibal picked Herkus up and put him on the counter before placing his palms on both of his cheeks.

"Herkus?" Hannibal called. "Can you hear me?"

It took a while, slowly, but surely, the boy came into awareness. Beneath his fingers, he could feel vibrations coming from the small body. Hannibal frowned, concerned to see the prelude of a familiar bout of crying. Gently taking the trembling form of the boy into his chest, he patted the boy's head, wondering what incited that kind of respond from Herkus.

His line of thoughts didn't get very far when he heard a soft sound — only it wasn't that of a cry.

Herkus was chuckling.

His boy had gripped tight over his shoulders, forehead leaning into his chest and laughing. It went for a while, the unknown mirth. Sobered, the boy lifted his face and Hannibal was distracted to see his eyes shone with childish glee. He wondered what had amused his charge so.

"I'm sorry," the boy said with a smile which Hannibal returned. "I just recalled something funny."

"What is it?"

The boy wetted his lips, the mirth receded until it left something softer in his gaze; fond.

"It's about my parents. Tėti, he," Herkus paused and let out an amused huff, "once tried to make a present for me. A wind chime — one that was made from ribs."

Hannibal listened with rapt attention.

It was only a recent development that Herkus started sharing his memories of his parents. Though this was the first time Hannibal had witnessed how Herkus had triggered his memories. It was quite concerning since the boy was out of it for the first couple minutes. His decision to forbid the boy from going outside was a sound one, it seemed. It wouldn't do if the boy recalled his memories when he was doing something that could potentially be dangerous.

"Then?" Hannibal encouraged, soft and gentle, "I'm sure there is something in the memory that amuses you greatly."

Herkus smiled, nodding. "My father, Tėti, he wasn't great with his hands. Not like you, Hannibal. So, the product wasn't…pretty, you see?" Herkus muffled his laughter. There was no hesitance in his voice. "The ribs ended up with different lengths and jagged and sharp. He made such a mess out of the bones in the kitchen too. Mama was so angry that he told Tėti to eat bones that night."

Hannibal quirked a smile. Intrigue couldn't attest to what Hannibal was feeling as of current. Herkus' parents were curious existence. To find a cannibal outside the norm of certain ethnic or tribe was a rarity, be it for religion or extreme, desperate needs. To find a whole family that practised cannibalism was almost unheard of.

Or, at least, hadn't been documented yet.

"Shame," Herkus' eyes lingered to the pig, his eyes longing. "I think it would look great as Samhain's decoration."

~X~

A stranger was staring down at him; more in the action itself rather than the face. Will knitted his brows and his reflection mimicked.

Blue corduroy shirt peeked underneath the tan jumper: soft and comfortable and worn.

He wasn't this conscious about his appearance. Normally. Recalling back to several times where he had entered the psychiatrist's house with his out of place attire, a certain kind of uneasiness soared. It clawed at his mind. Donning his grey suit jacket—the nicest jacket he had own—Will observed his reflection and promptly grimaced.

"This," he scoffed at the mirror, "is absurd."

Winston barked, as if in agreement.

Will huffed and patted the canine before checking the time. Lines of curses spilled from his mouth. Staring at his reflection one more time, Will decided to forgo the initial jacket and jumper. He chose the vest and went with the jacket that had zippers instead.

"Is this better, Winston?"

Said mutt only stared at him, panting, and tilted its head.

Heat crept up to the back of his neck.

He put on his watch, grabbing his car keys and exited the house. The dogs, now joined by the newly arrived Winston, were gambolling around on the grass, excited and jumping about. An unbidden smile crawled to his lips. Since winter was near, there would be less chance for them frolicking outside.

Thankfully, they were pretty obedient today.

Checking on the kibbles and water on the bowls one last time, Will entered his car and drove away from Wolftrap.

He turned on the radio when the silence was becoming a little too deafening, switching from station to station until a song that he was familiar with came into the air. It was an old song; one that he hadn't heard for quite a while. Will leaned back on the seat afterwards, fingers softly tapping against the wheel at the rhythm. The road was bare. He stopped to refill gas at one point. Even the mini store had Halloween theme going on. He left the station with a packet of Polo.

What took an hour drive seemed to be minutes when Will realised that he had already arrived at the well-off neighbourhood. His nervousness came in a pulsing wave.

Some kids accompanied by their minder were already up and about the street, wearing ridiculous costumes that were supposed to be frightening. Some of them, at least. There was nothing scary about a child wearing pink tutu dress holding a star-shaped wand.

Will wondered what Herkus would be wearing.

Entering the driveway, Will observed the well-lit house. Where others had been overzealous in decorating, the psychiatrist's house was almost humble in nature. From a distance, Will could see a familiar orange squash sitting near the entrance. Not so bare then. He turned off the engine, briefly glancing at the front mirror before getting out of the car.

At the brush of cold wind, Will frowned. His hands slipped into the pockets.

Herkus had only recently recovered from his fever; he hoped the boy wore enough when trick-treating. He probably shouldn't be worried about it too much. Hannibal would have taken care of it, if not already.

Standing near, Will noticed that the pumpkins were carved beautifully. Very much so. Instead of the usual design of Jack-o'-lantern, the pumpkin had a pattern of dead trees branching wildly.

Will stared, enraptured.

For a moment, he'd seen human skulls hidden between the roots. He'd thought so. The light from candle within made it almost like the background was that colour of blood; deep orange—almost red—sun swelling and crows cawing in a distance, nipping on dead bodies resting on the dirt.

It was eerily alluring.

Shaking away the morbid thought, his eyes turned to the slightly smaller pumpkin next to it. This one was different than the rest. The cut was slightly rough, jagged at certain ends. He could imagine the one who carved had a frustrated expression, comparing his artwork to the other one.

Will found himself smiling.

He involuntarily took a step back at the sudden sound of a creaking door; they must have heard him pulling up. Will took a deep breath subconsciously, preparing himself as his mind rattling away words of greeting. Whatever sentences that he had constructed died in his throat when he saw Herkus staring at him with wide green eyes. Feet tiptoed and hands holding the knob still.

"Will?" Surprised and bewildered laced heavily on the childish tone. Herkus was still in his casual clothes. "What are you doing here?"

Will gave a stiff smile, embarrassed, at the reaction. Then it struck to Will that Hannibal had either forgotten to tell Herkus or it was supposed to be a surprise. The former was unlikely.

Amused despite himself, he answered, "I'll be accompanying you tonight, Herkus."

If it was possible, Herkus' eyes got rounder. Will recalled the exact same eyes he had gotten from his mutts when they saw something particularly interesting.

"You should let Will enter first, Herkus," a voice that made Will's composure stuttered spoke from behind the boy, "This is not the way to treat a guest." Hannibal came into the view bearing a smile. Will stared at his chin. "Hello, Will."

"Hello," Will returned, satisfied when his voice came out as normal.

Herkus lifted his head, trying to meet Hannibal's gaze—which made a pretty funny sight since the boy was small—as realisation dawned on his face. He stared at Will a moment longer before smiling shyly. "Please, come in."

Will's hands itched to pat the boy's head. He did none of that, settling with a smile of his own instead.

He stepped inside. The house smelled like saccharine goods. Like a bakery — though it wasn't as lively. He wondered if Hannibal would give the children cookies instead of the usual wrapped candies.

For someone who put such importance about what he put in his body, Will couldn't see the man distributing what the psychiatrist would consider as junk food to them.

"I didn't know that you'll be coming," Herkus said. "Hannibal didn't say anything about it." At this, the boy shot his guardian accusing eyes. Hannibal only replied with a slow blink.

Will felt his lips twitched at their interaction. Herkus had become more at ease around them. It was reassuring to see. Reminded back to how the boy had behaved at the hospital, Will felt his good mood fading.

He wondered if the psychiatrist managed to get anything out of the intelligent boy.

"Herkus, you should start preparing since Will is already here," Hannibal reminded, hands gently enveloping the boy's shoulders. "Young Valentine will be arriving soon."

Herkus pursed his lips, subtly eyeing in his direction. Will pretended not to notice. There was a complicated expression on the small face.

Will's step faltered.

Since Herkus didn't know, the boy could be displeased with the arrangement. When Herkus went upstairs, he voiced out his opinion only to hear a chuckle coming from the psychiatrist.

"I assure you, Will. He's looking forward to you being his guardian tonight," Hannibal replied. "Herkus is just being shy. He didn't anticipate you witnessing his Halloween's attire."

Curiosity and amusement intermixed with relief. "Why? What did he choose to go out as?"

"That is a surprise."

Will huffed then looked around the living room. True to his prediction, Will's dress code was somewhat inadequate. Lacking. Bothered by the rising nervousness, he cleared his throat.

"Is there anything that I can help you with?"

It was a poor choice of question, he thought rather belatedly, seeing that the psychiatrist was a perfect host through and through. Hannibal, Will noticed early on, had a tendency to being courteous; almost obsessively so — like it would kill him if he dropped the politeness. He didn't think that the older man would deem it acceptable to make his guests assist in anything.

Will's assumption was proven to be incorrect.

"I do have a need for assistance." Will blinked, tearing his eyes away from the moving lips. "Into the kitchen, if you would, please."

Numbly, he trailed behind the older man. The scent of something sweet—Will thought vanilla—permeated in the air; saturated in its thickness, but not overbearing. Hannibal went to the counter and took a plate of cookies in his hand. Will immediately realised what his intention was.

"You want me to be a food tester," he said dryly.

That…don't exactly count as helping, was it?

Hannibal nodded solemnly, "Indeed. A wider range of perspective is good to broaden one horizon, I believe."

"Broaden one horizon," Will repeated softly. A feeling of ridiculousness climbed into his chest. Wasn't it just some cookies?

"Herkus may be a wonderful reference for children's palate, but I rather scarce in opinion for a slightly older generation," Hannibal continued with a smile. "It will be helpful to have your input."

Will sighed, defeated. Eyeing the various colour of the cookies, he asked, "What kinds are there?"

"Several," Hannibal answered, "There are plain coffee, macadamia with cranberries, dark chocolate with walnuts, matcha with almonds and glazed lemon."

Will blinked at the lists, staring at the psychiatrist's left cheek then to the cookies. He could vaguely match the colours with the descriptions given. Will took the one he assumed as either chocolate or coffee before he was distracted by the slowly lifting lips of the psychiatrist.

"Trick-or-treat, Will."

Will was all but shoved the cookie into his mouth all the while ignoring his mind that was interested to enquire about the alternative: what would you trick me with?

At the first bite, he could taste the rich flavour of coffee swirling in his tongue. The intensity of it burst into his mouth that he had accidentally—embarrassingly—made a surprised noise at the back of his throat. It tasted suspiciously familiar. Like the coffee, the beverage, that Hannibal had once made for him.

Will swallowed a mouthful, smacking his lips somewhat at the lingering taste, and smiled, "This is delicious."

"Thank you," there was a hint of pride underneath the accent. Placing the plate back on the counter, Hannibal wiped his hands on some cloth. "If you would excuse me for a moment, I'm going to check on Herkus. Please have a seat while you taste, Will."

He nodded, waiting for the psychiatrist until he was out of earshot before slumping onto the stool and sighed.

That was dangerous.

His mind was dangerous. He should put a lid on it before it thought anything…untoward.

Picking up a new one, Will bit into it. It was delicious too. Will hadn't seen a point of him being a tester as he got the feeling that all of them were very appetizing.

He observed the kitchen. It was bigger than the one back home. Bigger than his guest's bathroom, even. Granted, it was only a half bath, but Will digressed. Clean and tidy — Will sensed an OCD somewhere, which wasn't a surprise. The man wore a three-piece suit on a daily basis. It showed that he placed his appearance, and to an extension, his surrounding, in high regard. Apparently, Herkus was a part of his extension too.

Will wondered what Hannibal thought about his house, his cluttered living room filled with mismatch knickknacks and unfinished repair of boat motors.

He pretended to focus on his task when he heard footsteps coming towards him.

"Sorry about the waiting, Will. It seems that my presence upstairs is not needed." There was something fond in his voice that made Will's swallowed heavily. "Did you finish tasting?"

"Yes," he agreed, trying to make his mouth worked normally. He thought of oil. Grease the hinges of his jaws. "They are all great."

Hannibal hummed, satisfied, and served Will a glass of plain water. Thanking the psychiatrist, Will gulped it slowly. He wanted to down it in one go. But this wasn't his poison. It wouldn't loosen him up. Will placed the empty glass on the counter, intending to stand and make himself scarce when he felt alarm bells warning inside his head. There was warmth looming from behind him.

He carefully stilled.

"Did you just smell me?"

"Difficult to avoid," came the psychiatrist's reply. There was a hint of discountenance in the tone, almost embarrassed, at being exposed.

Mortification running wild in his body, agitated.

"I really must introduce you to a finer aftershave. That smells like something with a ship on the bottle."

Will huffed, surprised at how acute the psychiatrist's nose was, as he tried to rein the feeling of distress at bay. It slipped between his fingers effortlessly. He tried better.

"I keep getting it for Christmas." He eyed Hannibal warily, heat making their way to his ears as he tried to keep his eyes even. "That is some nose you have there, doctor. To be able to smell that even with all of these…sweet scents."

"It is not my intention to make you uncomfortable, Will," the psychiatrist said that so sincerely that all Will could do was nod. It was unfair. "On another note, have your headaches gotten any worse lately? More frequent?"

"Yes, actually." Will frowned at the non-sequitur and made a mistake to look at Hannibal's lips.

The protruded lips were moist like it had just been licked by darting tongue. Will recalled a dream where those lips were coated with saliva and breathed heavily on his ears, uttering his name in a gravelly low timbre. Strays of hair spilled on the base of his neck; tickling.

The vivid image immediately dispersed like a fog when the doorbell resounded loudly.

Will's heart skipped a beat; his mouth dry.

Left alone in the kitchen as the psychiatrist went to answer the door, Will gathered what was left of his crumbled composure. They were ungraspable in his hands. Like flowing water.

He cursed himself when a familiar warmth pooling dangerously…below. He reached something to think about, anything. Something revolting, preferably: Herkus' abusers unknown whereabouts.

The feeling went away as quick as it came at the same time the thought had left a bitter taste in his mouth.

Will hastily left the kitchen after that little mishap. The sweet scent was starting to bother him, creeping past by his cracked defences and slithered inside. He needed fresh air. On his way out, Will stumbled upon the sight of Herkus in his costume.

Underneath the dark green wool cape that covered up his upper body, Herkus wore a black turtleneck shirt. His pants were dark brown like the colour of dirt. There was a stag skull that had fit snugly on the crown of his head. Rising from the stag's white skull, reaching for the sky, were antlers with dull ends, less sharp than what it supposed to be. Will stared at the horns, mind recalling the image of girls being impaled by those sharp bones. White tainted red and death loomed in the darkness upstairs.

He felt sick.

"Will?"

Before Will could answer, another voice interrupted, "That is so cool!"

Herkus' friend, Alejandro, was staring appreciatively as wide grin plastered on his face. Similar to Herkus, Alejandro wore a wool cape too. Only, the colour was red.

"Hello, Al," Herkus greeted, a wry smile on his lips. "Did you steal that cape from a little girl on the way here?"

"I'm glad you enjoy this little…play of mine. It was my Aunt's idea, actually." Herkus' friend laughed. "You sure love stags, huh?"

Will blinked, then carefully observed Herkus again. There was a hint of red on his cheeks, a glare on his eyes. White from the bones still tainted red. But not from blood. Flushed cheeks. Will didn't see those girls anymore. Instead, there was only Herkus, a child who had an extreme fondness towards a certain animal. Looking at the sight in front of him, the boy didn't differ from any other children.

"Like you can talk, Leonard," Herkus said, clipped and irritable.

"Oh," Alejandro's face lighted up. "I'm sorry, Cernunnos."

"Leonard?" Will asked curiously, watching the two with odd wonder. "Cernunnos?"

It was the first time he saw Herkus interacting with the other boy. Perhaps because they were quite similar in age, Herkus seemed more open. Funnily, he didn't see two children bickering about. Instead, because of their eloquent speech, Will had a ridiculous thought that he was witnessing two teenagers having a light banter.

"Hello, Mr Graham," Alejandro greeted. His tone was respectful, if not a bit distant. Will felt something sharp from his gaze, penetrating. Will frowned. "Cernunnos is —"

Alejandro's words abruptly stopped when Herkus went over the boy in two quick steps and covered a palm over his mouth. His face was a study of panic.

There was a beat of silence.

Flushed cheeks returned with vengeance on Herkus' milky skin. With his hand retreated, the boy took a brief glance at Will, face becoming redder still. The little boy gave a face of resentment at Alejandro. The latter displayed a guilty, helpless smile.

Will hadn't a clue.

"That was quite rude of you, Herkus," said the newly arrived Hannibal.

What should be a reprimand was laced with amusement and intrigue instead, similar to what Will was feeling as of current. Will shifted on his feet, conscious.

"Sorry, Al," Herkus apologised. "It's…reflex."

Alejandro nodded then stared at Hannibal for a moment. There was a searching gaze in his eyes, or a glimpse of it, anyway. Will thought he was missing something when the red-haired boy smiled at Herkus again.

"No harm was done," Alejandro replied easily, eyes wandered to Will once again. His eyes imperceptibly fell back to Herkus, "And Cernunnos is the Lord of the Wilds, Mr Graham."

Perhaps it was in the way that Alejandro spoke it, but the tenseness on Herkus' frame had disappeared, leaving an embarrassed and guilty look in his wake.

"I see," Will replied thoughtfully and looked at Herkus, smiling. "Is that who you are going out as?"

Herkus blinked, then wetted his lips, a look of uncertainty in his expression. "Actually…I'm parading as Herne the Hunter."

"From Shakespeare?"

Will blinked and took a double look at Alejandro. He recalled two fifty notes shoved hastily on greasy fat fingers. Alejandro was most probably come with a rather high background too. It wasn't inconceivable that he read classic literature. Short of the legendary Hamlet and Macbeth, and a couple more, Will hadn't read much into the English poet. Too much tragedy.

Herkus gave a noncommittal hum.

"Herkus, why don't you give the packet to Valentine?" Hannibal spoke.

Will could feel his eyes on him.

The younger Lecter nodded, walking towards the way to the dining room.

"What is it?"

"A precaution of sorts," Hannibal said quietly, even when the boys were already gone from their sight. "If Herkus experiences a…zone out during the trip later, you don't need to be alarm. I only ask that you look out for him at that time."

Will frowned, the initial unease at the psychiatrist's presence vanished as concern climbing its way out. "Zone out? Is this a side effect from the fever?"

"No," Hannibal reassured softly, "It's a peculiar tick of his. One that I recently learned." Will frowned questioningly and saw how his head imperceptibly shifted, eyes peering behind Will. "I'll explain further at a later date."

Turning on his back, Will saw the boys coming towards them. Pushing the question at the back of his mind, Will asked, "Ready?"

"Yes," Alejandro replied as Herkus gave a somewhat reluctant nod. The red-haired boy's voice was warmer than previously, making Will stared at him in perplexed. He wondered what that was all about. "Thank you for accompanying us, Mr Graham."

Will nodded awkwardly.

Hannibal ushered them to the front door, politely, of course, as he went to straighten Herkus' attire. He noticed how the boy flushed under his guardian's attention. The three of them then stepped outside. The number of people increased from the last time Will had seen them.

"Please be careful on your way out," Hannibal spoke, smiling warmly. His gaze honed on his charge, "Don't wander by yourself, Herkus."

"I didn't do that," Herkus protested before softly mumbling, "…not anymore."

Hannibal hummed knowingly. The psychiatrist looked out into the sky, lips pursed, "The night is not getting younger. It will be prudent to commence your trick-treating."

Will nodded in agreement. Comparing the green-eyed boy who was still disinclined to leave the house and Alejandro who was standing patiently on the far side of Hannibal's compound, Will found his amusement grew. Will approached Herkus, slow as not to startle the boy, and let his hand rest on the back of the boy's head. His hair was soft.

"Let's go, Herkus."

Herkus lifted his head to look at him then to the door. Biting his lips, he tore his gaze from Hannibal before nodding mutely. The boy obediently went to Alejandro, his movement unenthusiastic.

"I'll bring them back in two hours."

Seeing Hannibal nodded with a faint smile on his lips, Will forced his feet to move away and walked towards the waiting children. The boys were holding pumpkins.

Actually, they were buckets shaped like pumpkins.

"Where did these come from?" Will asked confusedly, peering at the orange bucket with curiosity.

Herkus sighed, there was an unnatural long-suffering look on his face, making him seemed older than his age. "Alejandro brought them."

"I'm going to fill the candies to the brim," Alejandro declared.

"Don't include me in your ridiculous aim." Will chuckled at Herkus' bite. The boy flushed at his mirth and looked away. "I'm not going to eat them anyway – so what is the point?"

"Why?" Alejandro asked, taking the lead on their little trip.

"Why not?" Herkus retorted back and slowly exhaling, "They're too sweet."

"Fair enough," Alejandro hummed. "I still think that chocolates are good though." Grey eyes zeroing on Will. "What do you think, Mr Graham?"

Will wasn't good at being stared. He learned very early how to ignore them. But things that made him uncomfortable still bothered him. And Alejandro stared. A lot.

He blinked, shrugging off the uneasiness, and smiled, "To each their own. And you can call me Will, Alejandro."

Alejandro stopped in his track. He looked at Will then to Herkus. Slowly, a soft smile appeared on his lips, "I see. Glad to hear that."

He frowned at the odd reply but didn't pursue the answer. Distracted, he nodded absently.

Should he risk taking a closer look at Alejandro?

"Where are we going first?" Herkus asked, eyeing to the road before trailing to Will questioningly.

Will didn't know the way around the neighbourhood. Thankfully, Alejandro spoke, "The farthest, I think. We don't have to carry such a load back and forth."

Will nodded thoughtfully, gently pulling Alejandro to the side when he had almost bumped into a passer-by. The boy was thankful for the assistance before taking the lead once again. Herkus walked beside him with a sedate manner still. When a passing little girl had commented about the mask, Will saw Herkus tensed.

The little boy tugged on the stag's skull, lowering it to cover his face.

"I meant to ask before," Alejandro suddenly spoke, gesturing at the mask, "Is that real?"

"No," Herkus said wryly. His voice somewhat muffled. "It's wood. You have to ask Hannibal what kind of wood though. He's the one who made it."

"Hannibal carved it?" Will asked, fingers unconsciously reached out to the skull.

He knew it was fake. The colour was too dull for it to be a real bone, but he didn't realise that the psychiatrist was the one who sculpted it. It looked like a hand of professional.

The list of talents that the older man had just become even longer.

"Is there nothing that your guardian can't do?"

Herkus laughed at Alejandro's innocent question, seemingly pleased with the compliment. In his mirth, the boy didn't notice the protruded brick and almost fell on the ground if not for Will's quick hands.

Will's heart stabled after a couple of breath.

"Alright there, Herkus?"

Herkus nodded.

Despite the mask covering his face, Will could just see the tinted cheeks. An unbidden smile crawled to his lips. He stood silently as he watched the boy regained his composure. Under the dim, orange glow, the road could be barely seen at certain places. Splotches of darkness that hid traps, ensnaring unsuspecting feet.

"Do you want to hold my hand?"

Herkus stared at him. Green eyes peeked behind the hollowed sockets widened a fraction. The boy marginally turned to Alejandro, fidgeting. It took Will a second longer to realise that Herkus was most probably embarrassed.

"Sorry, Herkus. We'll walk slower this time," Alejandro expressed, face orange in the streetlight. "You should listen to Will — here, let me carry your bucket."

"It's your bucket in the first place," Will heard Herkus' murmur but obediently gave up the object to Alejandro's expectant hands. "Thank you."

"No problem."

Herkus watched him again. Then at his hand. Small fingers tentatively grasped his awaiting hand, warm and soft. Will squeezed reassuringly. The warmth from the linked hands travelled all over his body. It was a pleasant feel. Like bathing under the sun.

"Shall we?"

Herkus nodded, hand still holding firm. "Okay."

True to his words, Alejandro lessened the pace of his gait, adopting Herkus' slow and steady ones instead. The walk was peaceful. So much so that Will hadn't even thought about the recent cases. Budish strung up high in the barn with flayed skin for wings and burning faces. Fear of greeting death in sleep.

Will, for the first time in a while, could finally breathe easy. He didn't notice how deprived he was from little comforts, too busy looking into the darkness behind dead eyes.

"Will, may I ask you a question?" Alejandro asked, balancing on raised edge with ease.

"What is it?"

"Henrikas said that someone is supposed to be coming with us."

"Yes, Abigail," he nodded, blinking when the smaller hand tightened in response. Will carefully tugged Herkus to his side, afraid that the boy was about to stumble again. "She's sick."

Apparently, the flu wasn't just going around in the Academy. It was a shame that Abigail had to be under the weather at this time. The teen was getting restless back in the institution, hence why he and Hannibal were thinking to bring her outside for a little breather. Alana wouldn't have agreed with them taking her out without discussing it first though.

Will felt pretty bad for Abigail.

The last time Will had visited her, Abigail was getting quite distant. Bitter resentment, Will would say. Like an abandoned child.

Perhaps another visit was due.

"Oh," Alejandro said, "That's too bad."

"Yeah," Herkus hummed in agreement. Alejandro's face swivelled to Herkus' direction, a quizzical turn of the head like that of a bird. "Maybe we can give her some chocolates?"

Will smiled. "I think she would love that."

"Look," Alejandro spoke suddenly after minutes of walking, his excitement jolting the buckets in his hands. "That's our first target."

Will observed the house that Herkus' friend had pointed out. It didn't look less daunting than Hannibal's, unfortunately. Will got a feminine vibe from the place though, a gentle touch of the fair gender. The garden had been carefully tended. Noticing a kennel, Will frowned in concern. Herkus reacted badly with canines.

"Alejandro," Will said softly, feeling regretful that he was about to dampen the red-haired boy enthusiasm. But not at the cost of Herkus' comfort. "I think we should avoid houses that have…pets."

Alejandro blinked. Realisation sank on his face as he stared at Herkus. The gesture was telling enough.

"Henrikas," Alejandro asked seriously. "Are you okay with a smaller dog?"

"What?" Herkus' voice was laced with confusion, head turning to the house. He felt the little boy's hand tensed for a brief second. "…smaller dog?"

"It's a Lhasa Apso Poodle mix — Lhasa Poo," Alejandro explained without prompting. "They're a small breed. Very cute, like a teddy bear. It's harmless, I promise."

Alejandro seemed to be familiar with the house, knowing even the breed of the dog. Will wondered if the boy had chosen this house precisely because of this reason, knowing that Herkus couldn't handle large canines.

Herkus had a very good friend.

Will opened his mouth, wanting to add his own opinion when there was a soft snort. Herkus' shoulders were shaking, a childish laughter left his mouth as both hands tried to cover the sound.

"Why are you laughing?" Alejandro asked confusedly.

"Nothing," Herkus coughed. "It's just funny. The name. Sorry about that." Sobering up, he looked at the house again. "Small, you say?"

"Yeah," the red-haired boy nodded. "It's even smaller than you."

"I'm not that small," Herkus replied, irritated. Tugging on Will's hand, he asked, "I'm not, right?"

The fact that Herkus was the shortest among them wasn't helping, even if he was the youngest. Not to mention his age, his abuse had played a part in his…poor height and weight too.

"You'll grow, Herkus," Will reassured, patting on the boy's head. "Don't worry."

The red-haired boy stepped forward, tapping on the mask softly. "So? How is it? Wanna go?"

"…fine."

Beaming, Alejandro gently handed back the bucket to Herkus, "Here."

"Wait." Alejandro stopped in his track. "…what do we do on trick-or-treating?"

"Nothing much, actually," Alejandro shrugged. "You ring the doorbell, scream 'trick-or-treat', get candies and move on to another house. Well, the screaming part can be improvised."

Herkus lifted his head at him, green eyes searching that Will almost chuckled at the sight. "Alejandro isn't exactly wrong."

"Alright," Herkus resignedly said.

They rang up the doorbell, small fingers gripping tight on his hand, and waited. The tiny pressure increased when there was a sound of a door being unlocked. Will squeezed back comfortingly, pleased at the reassurance that the little boy was seeking from him at the same time concern for Herkus' response to what was to come.

The boy let go at the same time the door was opened.

"Well, hello there," greeted an elderly woman who was about sixty years of age. Her eyes crinkled around the edge as her gaze trained on Alejandro, "My, is that you, Joshua?"

Will noticed how the red-haired boy tensed for a brief second before a light, airy laugh reverberated in the air. Nodding easily, he spoke, "Trick-or-treat, Mrs Jones."

"Of course! Let me treat you then." The woman laughed before taking a handful of wrapped sweets from the bowl in her hand and placed them into Alejandro's bucket.

Will noticed that they were the kind of chocolate that displayed behind guarded cases. The kind that Will only gave a passing glance. If he wanted to eat chocolate, he didn't need the one with eighty-five percent of premium cocoa.

"Thank you."

Turning to Herkus she smiled, "Oh, and who is this?"

"He's my friend, Mrs Jones."

"Well, since he's your friend, I have to give him more," she said with a big smile. "What is your name, child?"

"Henrikas, ma'am," Herkus replied politely. "And my friend's name is Alejandro."

There was a hint of edginess in his tone, icy and distant. Will placed his hand on the back of the boy's head.

The woman blinked and chuckled, eyes turning to Alejandro. "Yes, yes. I forgot. You always told me to call you by that name. You have to forgive this old woman, friend of Alejandro."

"It's alright, ma'am."

"Such a well-mannered child," the woman complimented. Eyeing Will, she said, "You must be proud."

Will stilled, but smiled regardless, "I am."

He felt a tiny pressure on his leg; Herkus was holding onto his pants. Will's hand curled further into the boy's hair. Herkus shifted closer. His smile felt more genuine, less stiff.

A bark pierced the silence.

"Rosa!" Mrs Jones exclaimed, tutting, "Now, now, there is no need to make noises, young lady. They are good children."

The dog whined. Tongue lolling and head tilting in a familiar gesture. Will huffed with amusement. Alejandro crouched, letting the Lhasa Poo sniffed his hand before patting the canine good-naturedly.

"She misses you."

"I'll come visit soon," Alejandro promised earnestly, hands still intended to spoil the dog with scratches.

"Would you like to pat Rosa too?" The woman asked kindly to Herkus.

"Uh?" Herkus muttered in surprise. "Um…okay."

Imitating Alejandro, the boy crouched, hand slowly reached towards the mixed breed's nose. When Rosa licked Herkus, the boy let out a surprised gasp, hand retreated to his lap. A moment or two passed before the little boy tried again. This time, his fingers were sure and steady. Will felt a smile on his face when the boy giggled, softly patting the dog.

If it was decided to him, Will wanted to let the boys had their fill of rubbing and scratching the dog.

Perhaps the boy wouldn't be so terrified of dogs now?

"Let's eat one," Alejandro spoke just as they left the compound. "And before you decline, Henrikas, this chocolate isn't that sweet."

"We just patted a dog, if you recall," Herkus pointed out. "It's dirty."

"I know you're going to say that," the red-haired boy murmured, his hand patting at the small bag attached to his hip. Will thought it was just another part of his costume. "That's why I bring along a hand sanitizer."

"What's a hand sanitizer?"

"Its function is like soap," Will replied, nodding stiffly at a passing stranger who gave him a brief, polite smile. "Only, you didn't need water."

Herkus let Alejandro squirted the sanitizer in his hand and copied his friend's movement.

"It's gone?" Herkus muttered curiously, looking at his hands this and that way. "Strange."

"Now, come on. Eat," Alejandro insisted. Rummaging through the bucket, he picked out two candies, "Here, Will. Have one."

"Me too," Herkus quickly said. Offering the chocolate to him, there was a shy smile on his face, "Here."

"Thank you," Will replied.

Since they were already feasting on their first spoils, Will ushered them towards the side that wouldn't disturb the other people on the path.

"Delicious…!" Herkus said with surprised.

Will concurred.

The chocolate, as expected, was very nice. He could practically taste the luxury.

"Isn't it?" Alejandro chuckled, hand already went to pick another one inside the pumpkin-shaped bucket. "Mrs Jones's taste has always been good."

"Do you know her well, Alejandro?" Will asked curiously.

"Well enough, I guess," he replied. "I used to mow her lawn sometimes."

Will blinked. That was quite an odd job for a rich boy.

Herkus gave an absent-minded hum. "Will? Did you like it?"

"Yes," he answered, pocketing the empty wrapper. "I don't eat chocolates usually, so it's quite nice."

"What do you eat then?" Alejandro enquired, crushing the wrapper and threw it back into the bucket.

"If you're asking about what type of sweets, I prefer mint."

"Mint?"

Will nodded, patting his pants as he remembered something, "I do have one here, want to taste?"

"Is that Polo?" Alejandro perked up and Will nodded.

Will gave one to Alejandro's awaiting hand. In the dim light, Will could see the familiar white ring inside his mouth. A whistling sound came from the red-haired boy.

"How did you do that?" Herkus asked in interest, peering closer to his friend.

Alejandro demonstrated it again. "Get it?"

Herkus nodded and pulling his mask up even further. Swallowing the candy, he tried to imitate what Alejandro had done, but there was no sound coming out. In fact, the round spearmint was spat out from his mouth and onto the ground instead.

Herkus stared at the soiled candy.

"It takes practice," Alejandro said after a moment, tone consoling. "When I first tried it, I slobbered all over myself."

Herkus grunted and quickly shoved his mask in place, hiding his red cheeks from view, "Let's go."

They visited more houses. Alejandro seemed to be well-known around the neighbourhood. A small talk here and there. Extra chocolates and sweets given by smiling faces. Herkus' friend was quite a person.

"Do you live around here, Alejandro?"

"Hm?" Alejandro turned his head to Will, hand deep into the half-filled bucket. "No, I'm not."

"How come you know so many people here then?" Herkus enquired.

"Because my Aunt lives near," Alejandro answered, popping another candy into his mouth. "Besides, it's good. Socializing."

"For a moment, you sound like Hannibal there."

Will hid a smile at Herkus' comment.

Eyeing overhead, he noticed that the night sky was finally cleared from the clouds. Fat moon started to show itself, soft light gleaming. It should be easier to see the road. Will checked his watch. They had another hour to go.

Will almost stumbled when Herkus abruptly stopped at the same time a loud clatter rang into the air. Some candies were spilled onto the ground.

"Herkus?" Will crouched in front of the boy, frowning when he got no response. "Herkus?"

"What's wrong?" Alejandro asked, tentatively avoid stepping the candies on the ground. He tapped on the mask softly and peered closer. There was a worried look on his young face. "Does he go quiet all of sudden again?"

Will suddenly recalled the psychiatrist's warning. Alejandro either knew that from Hannibal or he himself had witnessed Herkus having a zone out.

"Does this happen a lot?" Will asked as he placed his hands on those tiny shoulders. His heart was discomfort at the lack of movement. But the boy was still breathing. He heard it. At the irrational thought, Will tugged the mask up so that the boy could breathe easier.

He felt his heart stuttered when the green eyes stared at him with an unseeing gaze.

"Not really," Alejandro replied as he picked up the chocolates. Will noted how he exchanged Herkus' fallen sweets with his own uncontaminated ones. "I only saw it happened to Henrikas sometimes. He will wake up by himself."

Will nodded uneasily, covering Herkus in his arms when there was a group of people walking by. Soft whispers fell into his ears. Curious glances were thrown into their way. Will's mouth thinned.

"Alejandro," Will spoke, "Can you take —"

"On it," Alejandro interrupted. In his hands dangled two pumpkin buckets.

Will blinked before letting out a small huff. Turning his attention to the green-eyed boy who was still out of it, he gently picked him up from the ground. When the antler nearly poked him on the chin, he carefully pulled the wood-skull higher. The scar on his forehead was clear to see. Herkus subconsciously leaned into him, arms falling to his side. Will gripped tighter.

"Do you mind if we take a walk for a while?"

"Not at all," Alejandro said. "There's actually a park couple blocks from here."

They were about to enter the park when Herkus shifted in his arms. Will loosened his hold somewhat. "Will?"

"Hey," Will said softly, placing a palm on the boy's cheek. It was warm. "Are you alright?"

Herkus' eyes roved around the surrounding. He looked lost. "Oh," the little boy muttered quietly. His eyes suspiciously glimmered. Burying his head into Will's chest, small hands clasped onto the jacket. The boy went unnaturally still.

"Herkus?" Will asked, apprehension rose.

"I'm fine," he heard Herkus exhaled shakily. "Fine."

Will patted the boy's back, helpless. "…do you still want to continue trick-treating?"

He felt the boy nodded. It was a jerky movement, hesitant.

"We can rest here for a while," Alejandro opined.

"No," Herkus replied. "It's okay, Al. We'll continue."

Will hummed, relieved. "Do you want to get down?"

Herkus stared at him. The lost look was gone but there was still a vulnerability in those green eyes. Biting his lips, the boy said, "Can I — may I stay like this for a while?" The boy clutched tighter. "Please?"

Will smiled gently, patting the boy's back. "Of course."

Herkus gave him a shy smile.

"I'll continue to lead the way then," Alejandro said with a grin. Glancing at Herkus, the grin turned softer. "I'm glad you're feeling okay now."

Will ambled behind Alejandro, alternating from watching the darkened surrounding to the boy in his arms. Herkus was still quiet, body relaxed against his. When the boy's face went near his neck, his hair tickled Will. He instinctively shuddered, shying away from the boy as much as he could while holding him closer still.

"I'm sorry," Herkus rambled quickly, cheek flushing.

"It's alright," Will assured, subconsciously rubbed the back of his neck before his hand reached to support Herkus' weight again. The boy was abnormally light. "What is it, Herkus?" Will asked when the boy stared at him dazedly.

"You smell sweet."

'What with the Lecters and their fondness to smell others?' Will wryly thought.

"I think the smell stick from your house," Will responded, remembering the scent of vanilla. Without thinking, he leaned closer to the boy and took a whiff. "You smell kind of sweet too."

Herkus tilted his head, a tiny frown on his face, and sniffed at his wool cape. His brows knitted even closer, perplexed, "No?"

Will chuckled.


Did you like it? Will had a naughty dream, Hannibal being a doting Papa, Al being a good bro (he's also a sweet tooth and quite a prankster) and Herkus being a cutie-pie.

Who laughed at the victim POV? How dare he thinks Hannibal as an angry lover! *Snort*

We are now entering the early phase of Hannigram! Yes!

Who noticed the flags/events for the next chapter?

Thanks for those who review, follow, favourite this story! Please let me know what you think about this chapter!

*OMAKE*

"Trick-or-treat, Will."

Will quickly took a cookie from the plate, intending to take a bite but his mouth had another plan. "What if I choose trick?"

Hannibal's eyes flickered under the fluorescent light. His lips curling into a smile, pleased. Lowering the plate, he put both of his palms on the counter. Will could feel those russet eyes burning into his spine. Will swallowed.

"I'm the Chesapeake Ripper," Hannibal said with that thick, accented voice of his. The psychiatrist moistened his lips before continuing, "I fed you human flesh back at Minnesota."

Will blinked, distracted by the glossy lips to actually processed the words. "Huh?"

"And Abigail Hobbs killed Nicholas Boyle."

"...what?"