I kinda just banged this out in like an hour, so it's probably not as good as my usual stuff, but I really wanted to do something for Halloween! So here you go! (p.s., I'm dressing up as Scarecrow for Halloween! Muahahaha!)

He could have poisoned their candy. He could have slipped razorblades in with their treats. He could have grabbed them by their chubby wrists and yanked them into his apartment, but he hadn't.

It was that time of year again. Halloween. And, as usual, Jonathan Crane was feeling conflicted. He enjoyed the season; the leaves changing, the air becoming chill, carved pumpkin faces and paper ghosts adorning every doorstep. It was a celebration of fear. But it was also a celebration of depravity of the most base and – frankly – boring sort. Young women in flimsy outfits, children running around from door to door, harassing people for sugary slime.

And it was inescapable. In his building, several families would take their children trick-or-treating apartment to apartment. No need to go out in the chill October air, just stay inside. And most of the residents knew about this tradition, and kept bowls full of candy corn and chocolate bars next to their doors. Exclamations of "Oh, how scary!" and "Who are you supposed to be?" flooded into his home from what seemed like all sides.

Imbeciles. Halloween was not about candy, or costumes. Well, not per se. It was about facing your fears, becoming your fears.

This year, he had half decided to go out and really show Gotham what it feared most. But then he had come down with a truly wicked cold.

Now he was another one of them, sitting at home, plagued by seemingly endless knocking, soprano voices calling "Trick or treat!", and sticky fingers grasping at the candy in his hands.

In between visits, he curled up on his couch in front of the fireplace, under a worn chenille blanket. In his hands, under the blanket, he held his Scarecrow mask. He had run his fingers across it in small, concentric circles until his fingertips had begun to feel numb.

How unfair, that these insolent brats got to go from door to door, spreading fear and reaping reward, and he was stuck on his couch. How unfortunate that he could not wear his mask without risking his secret research.

No one has seen your mask, Jonny; no one who's in any position to talk, at least. Come on, just one good scare? Just for tonight? Halloween comes but once a year.

Crane was convinced. All right. And so he waited.

He put his mask on, and stood by the door, eye pressed to the peephole.

Finally, he heard footsteps. Two young boys, probably nine or ten; one dressed as a pirate, the other as some superhero he didn't recognize. Just looking at them made Jonathan's stomach lurch with irrational anger, but he kept cool.

The inevitable knock on the door came, along with the ritual chant of "Trick or Treat".

Straightening, Jonathan opened the door.

"Trick."

The effect was almost instantaneous. The boys, taken aback by his grotesque face, jumped and yelled, grabbing on to one another.

"Holy shit!" one of them cried.

"You'd do well to watch your language," Crane said, his voice as cold as a blade pressed to the skin. He stared down at the boys, who, under his unrelenting glare, were becoming more and more unnerved.

"Y-yessir," the other boy said, "We'll watch it from now on."

"Good to hear. Now. I suppose you want candy."

"Yeah, uh, you don't, uh..."

"No, no, it's fine. Help yourself." He held out a plastic bowl, filled with candy corn, Smarties, and Twix bars.

Watching them hesitantly reach into his bowl, he felt a sudden sense of...not compassion, but satisfaction. They were feeling fear, and he had shown it to them. Real fear, not cheap thrills. It was his gift to them this Halloween.

He smiled to them as kindly as he knew how as the boys walked away. As they walked, he heard them talking: "That mask, man. That thing is insane."

Crane closed the door, and this time he locked it. Sighing, he allowed himself to flop backwards onto the couch and pulled himself under the blankets again. Almost absentmindedly, he pulled his mask off and tossed it to the floor. It was time to rest.