Disclaimer: See initial chapter.

A/N: Not a typical Halloween story. This fits in with my angst bingo card square - assumptions. I think I might add some vignettes (if anyone expresses interest) which feature different aspects of the boys getting ready for Halloween. Hopefully there'll be a more timely Thanksgiving story.

Filip watched the two younger boys with a scowl. They'd become thick as thieves over the past ten months, and were now whispering and sharing giggles as Gemma helped them get ready for the night's festivities. Filip had steadfastly refused to participate, claiming that it was against his 'religion'.

In reality, Filip didn't want to celebrate Halloween because it reminded him of his siblings, and, the thought of dressing up to go trick-or-treating made him miss them all the more. Watching Juan, whom Filip had inadvertently nicknamed, Juice, during Christmas, and Alex, aka Tig, get into their costumes made Filip's heart ache for his twin sisters and brother in a way that it hadn't in a long time.

"You sure you don't want to come along?" John asked, coming up behind him. Filip jumped when the man placed a hand on his shoulder.

Filip spun around, taking in John's costume with a single up and down sweep of his gaze. John's hair was slicked back, and he wore a fancy, ruffled shirt beneath a black, red satin-lined cape. The white shirt was tucked into a pair of crisply pressed black slacks, and John's mouth was smeared with fake blood. He grinned at Filip, revealing sharp-looking fangs.

Filip's scowl deepened, and he crossed his arms over his chest. He'd thought that the way that the Tellers had celebrated Christmas, and birthdays, was elaborate. Apparently not even Halloween squeaked by without them going all out.

He probably should have realized that Halloween wouldn't be just an ordinary day with the Tellers when Uncle Bobby had come by to bake with the younger boys. They'd made popcorn eyeballs, candied apples that looked like monsters, and some kind of graveyard cake with worms (gummy) coming out of it. Uncertain, and feeling overwhelmed, Filip had watched everything from the sidelines.

Filip shook his head. "Nah, trick-or-treatin's for babies. I don't mind helping Uncle Bobby give out candy." It seemed like the mature thing to say, and further emphasized his commitment to not joining the other kids.

As though they were a single unit, Alex and Juan turned toward the older boy, treating him to matching glares. Alex's hands were on his hips - something that, far as Filip could tell, the younger boy had picked up from Uncle Bobby - and Juan's lower lip was trembling with anger.

"We ain't babies," their voices rang out in unison, twin frowns of disapproval marring their makeup.

Filip could see Gemma trying to hide a grin, and he rolled his eyes. She was dressed as a cowgirl in a red and white checkered shirt that she'd tied at the front, a dark blue jean skirt, leather boots, and a straw cowboy hat.

She looked pretty, but she always looked pretty no matter what she was doing - cooking, bathing the younger kids, doing the laundry. Gemma was nothing like Filip's mother who had always looked old and strungout - eyes perpetually red-rimmed and glassy from drugs and alcohol, hair greasy and stringy.

"You must be mistaken, pahdner, we don't have no babies here," Gemma said, jarring Filip from a particularly nasty memory of his mother one Halloween when she'd passed out, naked, on the couch.

"No, sirree," Gemma was really playing it up with the accent, causing Juan to giggle, and making Filip's memory seem all the more stark in contrast to his new reality.

"We've got ourselves a couple of fierce tigers is what we've got." Gemma tapped something on her thigh, and Filip realized that she even had a lasso.

Both boys growled at Filip, and he resisted the urge to roll his eyes again. Instead, he shook his head, and gave both boys a once-over, as though he was judging their costumes. Juan even spun around for him, nearly careening into the wall in his enthusiasm, when Filip made a twirling motion with his index finger. Alex just narrowed his eyes at him, and let out another low growl, that, in another context might have been a little scary.

Alex's face, true to his nickname, was painted in black and orange stripes - like a tiger. He wore a furry, orange and black striped costume, complete with a tiger's swishy tail.

Juan's face bore white and black stripes. Were it not for the white and black, tiger striped material, as well as the tail, of his costume, he could easily have been mistaken for a zeba. Filip knew better than to say anything to Juan about it, because he knew that the little boy would be devastated by the thought that he looked like a zebra instead of a tiger.

Filip ran a hand through his hair, and sighed. "I just meant that it's not for older kids, like me."

"How come Clay's comin'?" Juan tilted his head to the side, and his brow furrowed in confusion, as though it was a matter of great concern.

Alex pierced Filip with a soul-searching look. "He's older'n you."

Clay was dressed in ratty looking soldier fatigues, his face had been painted stark white, and bore black and red slash marks across it - there were some that looked like deep gouges, and still others that looked like stitches. Clay grinned at Filip, showing off straight, white teeth, and killer dimples.

Filip rolled his eyes at the zombie, and mumbled,"Could've fooled me."

Sometimes Filip felt like he was the oldest of the four of them, not Clay. The older boy never seemed to be fazed by anything, and never seemed put out when the younger boys wanted to hang all over him, or begged him to play with them, and he was always carefree, running off and playing with his friends, or with the little kids, like he didn't have a care in the world.

"Seems to me," Clay said, tucking his hands in his pockets and slouching, "that you need to loosen up a little."

Filip narrowed his eyes at the older boy, weighing the odds of being able to take the older boy in a fight. Though Clay was taller and broader, and had a couple of pounds on him, Filip thought that, if he needed to, he could take him.

"You don' haffa go trick'n'treetin'," Juan, suddenly serious, said.

Both Juan and Alex hated any kind of confrontation, and usually did something, sometimes bordering on the dramatic, to stop it at the first sign of trouble. The little boy stood beside Filip and faced off against the others.

"Me 'n Tig'll bring you some candy. Won' we?"

Juan looked over at Alex, whose eyes were wide, mouth set in a thin line of denial. Filip could practically hear the wheels spinning in the younger boy's head.

Alex was torn between fidelity to Juan, and the prospect of giving up candy that he didn't even have yet, to a boy who didn't even like Halloween. Filip knew that Alex probably saw him as a Halloween hater, which no doubt ranked him very low in Alex's estimation of people, as it appeared that Alex loved Halloween more than any other 'holiday'. Filip hadn't even helped carve the pumpkins that stood on each step of the front porch, and he'd found other things to do while the others decorated the house, setting up the front room to look like a witch's den.

Filip knew that, for the little boy, it was very much like being stuck between a rock and a hard place, and he sighed inwardly. Alex didn't want to disappoint Juan, his best friend, but he also didn't want to give any of his candy away, especially not to a Halloween hater.

Juan slipped his tiny, clawed tiger paw into Filip's hand, and gave it a light squeeze. That simple, childish act of love made Filip's heart ache all the more for his siblings, and his mother - in spite of his hatred for her, he still loved her and he didn't even understand why. Before he even realized what was happening, his eyes were burning with tears that he refused to cry.

Jerking his hand from Juan's, and causing the little boy to stumble, and Alex to growl at him, Filip brushed at his eyes with the back of his hand. Dodging John's arms, and Clay, Filip ran from the room, leaving the stunned group behind.

Filip heard a softly pleading, "Sorry," follow in his wake, and that made the older boy feel even worse. He ran to his room, and slammed the door shut behind him. The tears threatened to fall, again, and he scrubbed at his eyes, trying to force them back.

Filip paced the length of his room, rubbing at his eyes. You are not going to cry, he told himself. Only babies and wimps cry.

The tears leaked out past his palms, wetting his cheeks, and Filip threw himself, face-first, down onto the bed. Losing the battle he'd been waging with his tears, Filip finally let the last of his guard down and wept - the images of his little sisters' and brother's faces filling his mind.

In spite of the Filip's first social worker's promises that they wouldn't be split up, they had been. Five and a half year-old twins, Kerrianne and Fiona - dark hair, brown, sparkling eyes, and dimpled smiles - had been adopted right away. Filip didn't even know where they were, just that they'd been adopted by a 'nice family'. At least the social worker had told him that much.

His brother, Jaime, four, had likewise been adopted quickly. The little boy's fair, freckled skin, and curly, white-blond hair made him look like a cherub. He also had an easygoing temperament, which made him seem almost didn't share the same father as Filip and the twins.

Filip had inherited his father's quick temper and churlish ways. At least that's what his mother had told him. He was dark, and brooding, and unlovable.

Though he'd been with the Tellers for just over a year, Filip had not allowed them into his heart. Being unlovable, he'd made up his mind that he didn't need anyone, and wasn't going to let anyone get close to him, because it would all just be a lie anyway.

There was a knock at the door, and Filip buried his face into the pillow to hide his tears. He was ashamed of his tears, ashamed of the fact that he'd burst into tears in front of John, and Clay and the younger boys, ashamed that he, unlike his little brother and sisters, wasn't adoptable.

Even though the Tellers had told him, and the others, that they were going to adopt all four of them - Clay, Juan, Alex, and him - it hadn't been made official yet. There was something that was holding the process up, something that the adults hadn't explained to them, and Filip had a sinking suspicion that that something was him. .

The thought that he was the thing that was keeping all of them from being adopted, made the tears come harder, and soon, Filip was hiccoughing and choking on his own breath. He heard the door open, but ignored it, burying his face deeper into the pillow, and scooting toward the edge of the bed.

He felt the bed dip, and jerked his shoulder away when a hand settled on it. He knew that John and Gemma would never hurt him - they'd said they wouldn't, and they hadn't yet. They hadn't even spanked any of them, not even when they'd done something really bad.

Juan and Alex had broken one of Gemma's favorite lamps, by accident, the boys had practically wet themselves with fear, but they hadn't even been punished. Filip had ruined a new outfit that the Teller's had given him to wear at church, when he'd forgotten he'd been wearing it and played with some of the boys in the neighborhood - he'd come back with the knees of the corduroys torn and bloody, and the collar of his shirt muddied. Instead of giving him a thrashing, Gemma had cleaned him up, and fussed over him, completely ignoring the fact that he'd ruined the clothing.

There was an almost endless list of infractions that he, or one of the other boys had committed which had not ended with physical punishment, and Filip was still worried that it was all an act. That, any day now, John or Gemma would snap and take a belt to him, or the others. Sometimes, he stayed up late at night, worrying about it, wondering how he could protect them all, as he'd protected Kerrianne, Fiona, and Jaime from their mother, and her ever-revolving slew of men.

"Filip," John's voice was soft, and Filip stiffened when the man placed a hand on the back of his head, but John kept it there, and started running his fingers through Filip's hair. It was gentle, and soothing, and Filip turned his face toward his foster father.

"What's wrong?" John kept his voice quiet, and Filip's chest tightened. The man didn't sound mad, or upset, he just sounded concerned. Filip's breath hitched, and he let out a strangled sob as he tried to make the tears stop rolling down his face.

Filip shook his head, wiping his dripping nose on the back of his hand. He opened his mouth to say that nothing was wrong, but his throat hurt from all of the crying - something he hadn't done in almost two years now - and the words wouldn't come.

"It's okay," John said, and he continued to run his fingers through Filip's hair. "You don't have to talk now. I'll just go tell Gemma and the boys to go on ahead without us."

Filip's heart thudded in his chest and his stomach twisted. Not wanting to ruin Halloween for John, and the others, he shook his head. He didn't need John to sit with him while he cried his eyes out.

"Shh, it's okay," John said, rubbing Filip's back. The gentle, rhythmic movement made it easier for Filip to breathe.

"'M fine," Filip managed to coax the words out of his throat, though his tears were another matter. They didn't seem to want to stop, no matter how much he wanted them to. He was nine years old, had been for almost a full three months now. There'd even been a party - complete with friends, and presents, cake and balloons.

"Is everything alright in here?" Gemma's voice floated into the room, and Filip thought he could hear the shuffling feet just beyond the open doorway.

John turned toward the door, and Filip curled his hand around the man's wrist when it left his hair. It was an involuntary act, and Filip didn't understand why he'd latched his hand onto John's wrist, but, he relaxed when John returned his attention to him, and helped him to sit up.

"We're fine, why don't you take the boys trick-or-treating, Filip and I will stay here and hand out candy." John didn't add the words, when we're ready, but Filip caught them in the tone that he'd used.

"I wanna stay wif 'Lip," Juan's voice held a plaintive note to it, and Filip could imagine the boy tugging on Gemma's hand, his lower lip out and trembling.

"You can't get candy for Filip if we don't go tricker treatin'," Alex pointed out.

"But..."

"C'mon, Juicy, let's go get some candy for Filip," Clay urged the little boy.

Filip wanted to protest, to tell them that they didn't need to bother, that he would be fine without candy, but his heart was in his throat, and tears had all but glued his mouth shut. He didn't protest when John pulled him into a hug, and simply held him. He even wrapped his arms around the man, and held onto John, as though the man was an anchor, and Filip was in the middle of a violent storm.

Filip didn't hear the others leave, but, he sensed it, and sighed in relief. John didn't say anything else. He just held him, and let Filip cry until the tears finally stopped, leaving Filip's eyelids feeling heavy, but his heart and chest a little lighter.

John kissed the top of Filip's head, and combed his fingers through Filip's hair. Instead of pushing Filip away, now that he'd stopped crying, John continued to hold him, and comfort him. It wasn't until Filip felt a little more like himself, and began to loosen his hold on John, that the man eased back and looked Filip in the eye.

"You want to tell me about it?" John asked, and, though the tone of the man's voice indicated that it would be okay for him to say, no, Filip didn't want to. He wanted to tell John about his brother and sisters, and even his mother, he just didn't know where to start.

"Am I the reason that you can't adopt us?" The words came tumbling out of his mouth before he could stop them. He hadn't even been thinking about that.

John's brow furrowed, and he shook his head. "No." He ran a hand through Filip's hair. "Filip, we're just waiting for the judge's approval. It has nothing to do with you, or any of the other boys."

Filip frowned and bit his lip. "I thought it was my fault, on a count of being unlovable." The words are whispered, and the confession makes his chest feel hot and tight.

John pulled Filip into a hug, and Filip could feel a slight tremor running through the man's limbs. John didn't say anything at first, he just held Filip so tightly that Filip thought he could hear the man's heart beating against his ear.

"You aren't unlovable, Filip," John's voice broke, and he cleared his throat. "Gemma and I, Alex and Juan, and Clay, we all love you."

"But how come I didn't get adopted right away, like my sisters and brother? How come they separated us? What did I do wrong?" Now that he'd finally voiced them, Filip wanted an answer to his questions. "Why didn't anyone want me?"

"Because," John drew in a deep breath. "You weren't meant for any of those other people, you were meant for us - Gemma, and Clay, and Alex, and Juan, and me. We wanted you, even before you came to us."

Filip wasn't sure if he could believe John. It seemed farfetched that anyone could want him before they even knew who he was.

"You are so much like our Tommy. He was serious and kind, always thinking about others, putting them before himself. You even look like him - dark curls and brown eyes that seem to notice everything. Nothing got past him, and he was taken away from us much too soon. When Gemma and I first set eyes on you, we knew that you were meant to be our son, same as Clay, and then Alex and Juan," John said, and Filip couldn't hear any deception in the man's voice.

"The way I look at it," John said, after a pause, pulling back so that he could look Filip in the eye. "If one of those other families had adopted you, Gemma and I would have been robbed of the chance to get to know, and love, and make you a part of our family."

Filip pondered John's words, and though he still felt largely unlovable, John's words made him think that, maybe, it was a good thing that none of the other homes he'd been in had kept him. If they had, he'd never have met any of them: Gemma, John, Uncle Bobby, Clay, Juan, or Alex. Blinking, Filip realized that he couldn't imagine what life would be like if he hadn't met any of them. The thought of it made him feel like there was a chunk of his heart missing, and he absentmindedly rubbed at his chest.

Filip knew that he'd always think of and miss his little sisters, and brother, but he knew that they were safe, and loved, so, maybe it was okay for him to be safe and loved, too. Maybe it would be okay for him to let the Tellers into his heart, and to stop pushing them away.

"So, it's not my fault?" Filip asked again, just to be sure.

John smiled at him. "It's not your fault."

Filip regarded John carefully, and not sensing any falsehood in the man's words, he nodded, and returned the man's smile. His eyes felt itchy, and his nose was stuffed, but it was like a weight had been lifted off his chest.

"You feel up to heading downstairs and helping Uncle Bobby with the candy?" John asked.

"I don't have a costume," Filip said, feeling more than a little self-conscious and stupid, now that he thought about it.

"That's okay, you can dress up next year," John said."That is, if it's not against your religion."

Filip and John looked at each other for a brief moment, and then, they burst into laughter. Filip's laughter subsided into giggles, before ceasing altogether,and when they'd composed themselves, John got up, and headed for the hallway, Filip following on his heels.

"Why don't you go get cleaned up, and meet me downstairs?"

Nodding, Filip detoured to the bathroom, and listened to John's footsteps, and then to the muffled sound of voices - Uncle Bobby's and John's - as they drifted up the stairs. Peering into the mirror, he grimaced at his reflection - his eyes were red and puffy, his face almost as pale as the paint that Clay and John had used for their costumes. He looked a little like a zombie himself, and that thought made him laugh until he almost cried.

Composing himself, he splashed some water on his face, and then ran his fingers through his hair. It was an unruly, untamable mess of wavy curls at the best of times, and, in spite of applying water to his hair, it still stuck up at odd angles. He gave it up as a lost cause, and joined John and Bobby in the livingroom.

There was music, and there were goodies lined up on a table near the door. Uncle Bobby was dressed in some sparkly white costume, and had a wig, and sideburns. When Filip stepped into the room, Uncle Bobby waggled his hips and curled the corner of his lips.

"What're you supposed to be?" Filip asked around a snigger.

Uncle Bobby placed a hand over his heart, as though he'd been wounded, and did and odd kind of dance move that Filip hadn't ever seen before. The man turned to John and shook his head. "It's deplorable, the lack of education in this home. How is it that your children don't know about the King? Elvis Presley is a legend," the man said the last part to Filip.

"Elvis Presley?" Filip thought that maybe he might've heard of the man, but he had no idea what he looked like.

"It seems that an education is in order," Uncle Bobby said, and he grabbed Filip's arm and pulled him to the record player that sat in a corner of the room.

The doorbell rang, and Filip thought, Saved by the bell. Thank god.

"Guess it'll have to wait," Filip said, racing to the door.

A chorus of, "Trick-or-treat!" greeted him, and Filip made an effort to comment on each of the costumes that the children wore; it was something he'd have done for Kerrianne, Fiona and Jaime.

He gave each child a handful of candy, and sent them off with a, "Happy Halloween!" amidst another chorus, this time of, "Thank you!"

Filip fell into an easy routine with Uncle Bobby, and John, learning about Elvis in between handing out candy. By the time that Gemma returned with the others, Filip was feeling much better than he had earlier.

Juan launched himself at Filip, inadvertently sending the contents of his Halloween bucket flying everywhere as he pounced on Filip. Filip easily caught him, with an, "Oomph."

"I gots you lots an' lots a candy," Juan said, and he dug into his pail, pulling a fistful of candy out and shoving it into Filip's face.

Blinking, Filip placed the little boy on his feet, and took the proffered candy. "That's a lot of candy," he said, peering into the bucket.

"'Lex an' Clay gots lots more," Juan said, bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet. He looked like a jack-in-the-box bursting out of the lid.

"Boys," Gemma called, with a sharp whistle that caused Juan's eyes to grow wide. "Let's bring the candy into the kitchen and sort through it. Juan, you've had enough candy for the night. Alex, don't even think about that. Clay, you can have another piece of candy."

Filip laughed as the two youngest boys put their pieces of candy back, Juan actually taking the candy out of his mouth and replacing it in his pumpkin-shaped bucket. They both pouted, and glared at Clay who shrugged and placed the candy bar he'd been about to unwrap back in his bag.

Filip trailed behind Juan and Alex as the boys headed toward the kitchen, picking up the candy that had fallen from the buckets as they went. "Did you have fun?"

"It was ah-sum," Juice said, using a new word that he'd heard from Clay earlier that week.

"Yeah, there was this one house," Alex's eyes lit up as he spoke. Clay helped the little boy up onto a stool, and Filip hoisted Juan up onto the one next to Alex. "It was haunted, an' I was'n scared or nuthin'."

"Yeah, me too," Juan said. "There was ghostes an', an'..."

"Bats, an'..." Alex added.

"An' this, this," Juan bit his bottom lip as he thought. "Speck-il-cur. It had dead bodies in it."

"It's sepulcher," Gemma corrected. She helped the boys dump their candy onto the counter, and pulled a couple of bowls from the cupboard.

"Speck-il-cur," Juan repeated carefully, tongue sticking out.

Alex snorted and giggled, but he turned to Filip to continue the story. "An' there was a black cat. It had scary, yellow, glowy eyes." The little boy shivered.

"An' there 'as a mummy, an' a werewof, an' a fankens stine," Juan said, listing each monster on his fingers.

"Sounds very scary," Filip said, and Juan and Alex nodded.

"It was," their voices echoed each other, and everyone laughed.

"You should've come, man," Clay said, clapping Filip on the back. "There was this one house that gave out whole candy bars, and there's a party that..."

"You won't be going to, young man," Gemma cut him off.

Clay rolled his eyes, continuing his story about the house with the cool party that was probably still going, and that he, and Filip, were probably old enough to attend. Gemma pointed at the candy and set them to the work of sorting through it.

Juan and Alex snuck pieces of candy whenever Gemma's back was turned. She caught them at it, and playfully scolded them.

"Okay, boys, it's time to go upstairs and get cleaned up," Gemma said, once all of the candy had been put away.

Alex and Juan groaned loudly, but Gemma pursed her lips and pointed to the stairs, and the boys jumped down from the stools and raced each other up the stairs. Shaking her head, Gemma followed.

Clay grabbed a few pieces of candy, and shoved one into his mouth as he walked, at a much slower pace, toward the stairs. "You coming?" he called to Filip, who started, and then quickly caught up with the other boy.

"So, what was the haunted house really like?" Filip asked.

Clay shook his head. "It was great for little kids, but...it was kind of lame."

Filip wished that he'd gone trick-or-treating with Clay, but with a quick look at John and Uncle Bobby - both men talking and laughing about something he couldn't hear - Filip knew that, though it started out to be a terrible, awful night, it ended up becoming a night he'd never forget.

Heart swelling with something that Filip wasn't sure he understood just yet, but thought it might be love - a sense of belonging - he listened to Clay lament about the party that Gemma had claimed they were too young to attend.

He hadn't been adopted right away, and his own mother hadn't loved him, but Filip had found a home, here, with the Tellers and the other boys they were trying to adopt. He hoped that, whatever the hold-up was, it would be sorted out soon.

Please review, let me know if you enjoyed this (what in particular), and if you'd like more.