A/N Here's chapter 2 and the spooky stuff starts... Enjoy! Let me know what you think :)

Chapter 2

Trick Or Treat?

Half an hour of staring at her motionless typewriter was enough for Daisy to realise that she just wasn't feeling inspired today.

"Right, let's try something else." She said aloud, inexplicably in that way that you do when you know you're alone but somehow it seems insufficient not to voice your thoughts. She headed towards her room then stopped abruptly, glancing furtively around her. She had just had an idea that she knew she should ignore but the temptation was simply overwhelming. She cleared her throat and strolled casually over to the door to Tim's room. She knew it was an invasion of his privacy, an abuse of the trust between them. But she really wanted to go in. She rationalised it to herself that she was not spying on him with any malicious intent, only trying to ascertain why he and Mike were so close, in the hope of getting closer to him herself. She hated being excluded by them. Her limited self esteem could not cope with any more instances like the one she had endured that morning. Steeling herself, she turned the handle and went in. Tim's bed was against the same wall as her own, which explained the ease with which she overheard his most private moments. The knowledge that they were separated only by plasterboard in bed was somewhat disturbing. She looked around the room, taking in Tim's collection of comic book memorabilia, and grimaced as her eyes met Sarah Michelle Geller's. The cork noticeboard on the wall above Tim's cluttered desk was covered in scraps of paper, cinema tickets, photos and a hand written letter, which on closer examination seemed to be from his mum. One of the photos caught her eye. It was of Tim and Mike in their mid teens, all boyish and cute, standing outside a house with their arms around each others shoulders, grinning broadly into the camera. They were both dressed as zombies, sporting gruesome face make-up, red contact lenses and 'blood splatter' liberally applied to their clothes and hands. Daisy lifted the corner of the photo to find Tim had helpfully written on the reverse.

'Jon's Halloween party, 1991.'

Daisy knew they were old friends, but how far back they went had never actually been clarified. Perhaps longevity was the only thing distinguishing her relationship with Tim from Mike's. She suddenly froze as she heard a scuffling noise in the flat. Shit. There was no reasonable explanation for her being in Tim's room. If he caught her, their friendship may not get the chance to develop to the level of intimacy that existed between him and Mike. She scurried back over to the door and, deciding to go with boldness, flung it open and dived out. She looked around in confusion, closely followed by relief, on finding the flat empty and sauntered casually across to the kitchen. Then her eyes narrowed as she noticed a piece of paper had been slipped under the door.

Open the door and you will find,

a sweet treat that will blow your mind.

Hope you enjoy your Halloween surprise!

Love from

The Halloween Fairy

xxx

Daisy frowned and opened the door to find a small basket wrapped in cellophane sitting on the doorstep. Inside, nestling on a bed of orange tissue paper, were some beautiful handmade biscuits, in the shape of various Halloween images; bloodied zombie hands, ghosts, bats and spiders.

"Awww, that's sweet." Daisy said. "Kind of a reverse trick or treat, I suppose." The origin of the biscuits was a mystery to her. It seemed doubtful that Marsha would have made such an effort, especially considering the recent furore surrounding her discovery that Tim and Daisy had been lying about their relationship. She picked up the basket and placed it on the kitchen table. In an extreme expression of selflessness, she decided not to eat any until Tim returned, wanting to share them with him. In order to achieve this feat of self control, though, she grabbed her coat and headed out with absolutely no idea of where she was going.

Tim and Mike had been out for over an hour before they started heading back to the flat. They had messed around for a while in the park, Tim on his skateboard and Mike throwing sticks for Colin. But mostly they just wandered about, bantering and joking with each other, play punching and grabbing each other in headlocks. They sat on a park bench chatting nonsense, one with an arm around the others shoulders, or a hand on the others leg. They had no problem with displaying physical intimacy with each other simply because they were both male. It felt natural to them both to express their affection for each other through touch. No doubt some passers-by assumed they were a gay couple, something they were neither aware of nor cared about.

When they returned to the flat, Tim removed Colin's lead and tossed it over the back of one of the kitchen chairs.

"I'm just, err, going to have a quick shower, Mike. I didn't get chance this morning." Tim felt himself flush at the thought of what he had been doing that morning in the underwear he was still wearing. "Are you gonna hang out here for a bit?"

"Yes, if that's ok, Timmy."

"Sure."

Tim disappeared into the bathroom and Mike flopped down onto the sofa. As he glanced absent mindedly around the living room, he noticed the basket of biscuits and he went over to examine them more closely, his eyes lighting up.

He read the note, established that they were not addressed to anyone in particular and gave in to temptation. He chose a zombie hand shape first.

"Mmmm!" The biscuits were delicious, soft and gingerbread-like, and covered in sweet decorative icing. Mike counted eight biscuits in the basket and decided that two or maybe three would not be being greedy. In the end he had four, but they were scrumptious. "Right. Enough, Sergeant. Step away from the confectionery." He ordered himself, and sat down on the sofa to wait for Tim. The water had stopped, indicating he was out of the shower. It must have been because the walk was so long that Mike suddenly felt extremely tired. He rubbed his eyes, trying to alleviate the pain that had emerged behind them and clear his blurry vision. The soreness intensified and spread down his body, all his joints aching acutely.

"What the..." He watched, horrified, as his skin seemed to grow paler, fading to a translucent white, revealing the glow of red blood vessels beneath. He felt his heartbeat slow considerably, but each beat was incredibly powerful, like being punched in the temples. Confused and frightened by his abrupt illness, he tried to stand up and found his legs were uncoordinated, his feet sort of dragging along the ground.

"Tim! TIM, HELP! TIIIIIIIM!" He screamed, panicking as his vision closed down to a tiny dot. Tim burst out of the bathroom stark naked brandishing a loofah, ready to fend off Mike's attackers. He froze, loofah aloft, in confusion when he saw Mike was alone.

"What's wrong!" He yelled, the adrenaline pumping.

Mike looked strange. He was excessively pale, his expression vacant. He seemed to be struggling to move around or focus on Tim.

"Hhhh dddrrrr." Mike's speech was slurred to the point of being incomprehensible. Tim went over to him, trying to put himself in Mike's wildly roving line of sight, but his pupils were tiny, his irises faded to white.

"Mike, it's ok, it's me. Just nod if you can hear me." Mike's head bobbed jerkily up and down. "Great. Alright, just hold on, Mike. I think you're hurt, I'm gonna call you an ambulance." Tim dashed into his room, pulled on a pair of boxers and a t-shirt, and grabbed his phone from his jeans pocket. He dialled 999 and pulled his jeans on, then went back out into the kitchen, hopping along as he hurriedly applied socks and trainers to his feet, the phone clamped between his ear and shoulder. He looked up to see Mike start moaning loudly and lumbering towards him, arms outstretched.

"It's ok, Mike. I'm getting you some help." Tim was listening, waiting for the phone to be answered. He watched Mike slowly drag his feet along the ground, he took in the outstretched arms, the groaning, the vacant expression. The thought 'Shit, Mike's a zombie!' suddenly exploded inside Tim's head. He tried to reason with himself. There's no such thing as zombies.

"Mike! Calm down, mate, it's ok!" Tim stumbled backwards as he tried to placate him but Mike kept coming, lumbering and snarling now. Panic was rising fast in Tim's throat, as the nightmarish concept of his best friend turning against him took shape before his eyes.

"Mike, stop it!"

"999, Which service do you require?"

"Mike! Jesus Christ! It's ME! It's Tim!"

Then Mike was upon him, clawing at him, drawing blood. Tim dropped his phone and grabbed Mike's wrists to fend him off. He was a big guy though, easily overpowering Tim, forcing him backwards until he smashed into the wall beside the door to Daisy's room.

"MIKE!" Mike's hands were grasping at his naked torso, his mouth open, slavering, going for his neck.

"SERGEANT WATT, STAND DOWN!" Tim screamed at him in desperation. Some tiny part of Mike's brain that was still himself flickered with recognition and he paused. There was a few seconds of tense silence as Tim stared, petrified into Mike's dead eyes. Then Mike moved back and lowered his arms and Tim started breathing again. His brain scrambled to catch up with what was happening and formulate words into a sentence.

"Mike... Mike." Was all he could gasp.

Mike screwed his face up in pain, physical or emotional, Tim could not discern. He suspected a combination of both. He watched, still too shocked to move until Mike turned away and raised a shaking arm, waving vaguely at the kitchen table. Tim took the opportunity to slip out from between him and the wall in case he went all Terminator again. He seemed lost now though and just swivelled his head about, trying to see clearly. Tim took another breath and managed to locate his vocal chords.

"Mike. Do you know who I am? It's Tim. You won't hurt me, will you?"

Mike slowly turned back to look at Tim, who was horrified to see that he was crying, the tears looking odd coming from expressionless eyes. Mike made another noise, softer now, and a movement that looked like he was trying to shake his head. Tim's fear dissolved into relief. Mike recognised him, and Tim knew he would never intentionally hurt him. He had no idea what to do next, but he was sure that Mike needed his comfort now above everything else. He went to him and put a hand on his shoulder, forcing himself not to recoil from the weirdly clammy, spongy texture under his fingers. He reached up to Mike's face with his other hand and stroked his tears gently from his cheek.

"It's alright. Everything's going to be alright, Mike. I promise." Mike shuddered and dropped his head onto Tim's chest.

"Tmmm." He groaned awkwardly, trying to say his name.

"I know, Mate. It's alright. I've got you."