2018 - October 31, morning

Tate, in teen form, stepped out the front door into the autumn sunlight. The light had shifted almost imperceptibly with the onset of fall: The slant of the shadows was longer and the air wasn't quite so stiflingly hot as it had been. In other parts of the country leaves were changing color and some areas even had snow. In Los Angeles, the climate wasn't so dramatic but if one knew what to look for, autumn could be seen. He and Ben were supposed to meet up to go have that coffee Tate said he wanted. It had sounded great at the time but he immediately regretted the decision as soon as he left the house.

"See, g-guys?" a familiar voice to his right said. "I t-told you he'd c- he'd c-come out again."

Tate turned and saw the Dead Breakfast Club approaching, dead rocker Kevin in the lead. It was him who'd spoken. Tate felt his stomach knot up but he didn't move. He didn't even blink.

"I don't want to do this now," he told them warily.

"Oh, he doesn't want to do this now," Stephanie, the goth girl, said mockingly with a game show hostess wave that encompassed the blond boy. She glared at him, stepping closer in a threatening way. "I didn't want to die on the floor of the library but you didn't give me that choice!"

"Hey. Hey." Ben stepped between them, surprising the girl.

Tate shifted his weight and shoved his fingers in the pockets of his jeans. He tried not to look at any of the other teens, all of whom were looking confused and angered at the intrusion. All except Amir; it was hard to tell what expression he wore with his face all torn up. Tate wondered why he didn't heal it. Then he wondered if maybe it was like the scars on his own wrists, how they wouldn't go away. Then he stopped wondering.

"Let's just take it easy," Ben was saying, to the goth girl specifically but to the group as a whole.

"Who's this loser?" Stephanie demanded. She looked at the other Westfield High victims but none of them had an answer. She looked up at Ben and scowled. "I don't know who you are and I don't care. This is none of your damn business."

"Actually, it is," said Ben, noosing the surge of anger her attitude provoked. He imagined beating her like he had beaten the man in Tate's nightmare. He smiled benignly. "I'm Tate's therapist. Doctor Harmon."

The group laughed, those that had the physical ability to. Amir just bobbed his head and shifted around.

"Therapist?" Kyle blurted incredulously. "Don't you think it's a little late for that?"

"No," answered Ben. "In fact I've been an acting therapist to ghosts for over seven years now. It's never too late to try and sort out your issues."

Most of the kids still looked skeptical to downright disgusted. Ben did notice the cheerleader looking at him in a curious way. He injected more warmth in his smile when he trained it on her. She looked away self-consciously. Without the shotgun blast spoiling the image she would look very cute in that cheer getup. Why on earth had Tate shot her?

"We're d-dead," Kevin said. "There's nothing t-to sort out."

"Isn't there?" parried Ben, looking at the boy now. "You have all October to roam around and get a breath of life and what do you do? You spend it here?" He motioned to the yard and porch. "That's a pretty big issue if you ask me."

"Well, nobody asked you!" said Stephanie, balling up her fists. "Where we go is our business."

Ben nodded. "You're right. It is. And where we go is ours. Now if you'll excuse us, Tate and I have someplace to be."

The kids looked at each other uncertainly. Then Tate stepped out of Ben's shadow though he didn't exactly step forward.

"If you guys want to settle this," he said in a low tone. His shoulders were hunched up but his fingers were still in his pockets. "Meet me at Westfield tonight. I'll tell you everything then."

The other teens stirred, looked at each other and Tate. Even Ben got a couple of glances.

"Tonight?" echoed Kyle.

For years the group had restlessly wandered during October, searching for answers and coping with the way the world was moving on without them. They'd fallen victim to their own patterns and lost direction in the process. The idea of resolution was both invigorating and frightening.

"Yeah," Tate said. He drew confidence from their uncertainty. "Tonight. Halloween. We can finish this then. For good."

They exchanged looks again, none daring to believe what they were hearing. Finally, Kyle looked at him and lifted his chin a little. He shoved his hands in the pockets of his football jacket.

"Fine. Tonight," he said as gruff-sounding as he could make his voice. "You better be there."

Tate resisted the urge to roll his eyes at the false bravado. "I will be."

"Fine," Kyle said again because he didn't know what else to say.

Amir patted his pal on the shoulder and tipped his head toward the street. Kyle nodded, understanding. The group started to drift away, each teen shooting at least one glance back at Tate and his therapist.

They got about halfway to the gate when Ben said, "Hey, Chloe." He'd made it a point to learn all of Tate's victims' names and what they looked like, particularly the ones who kept showing up at his house.

She paused and he went down the sidewalk to where she was. The rest of her group stopped closer to the street to wait for her and to see what was going on.

"You seemed kind of curious when I mentioned therapy," Ben said to her in a low tone meant for her only. "If you ever want to talk - about Westfield or just anything - please feel free to come by. My office is here in the house."

She didn't say anything but she gave a little nod and then rejoined her friends. Ben watched them leave.

"Don't you have enough problems with women?" Tate said behind him teasingly.

Ben turned to look at him, brows inching up. "What? I was just letting Chloe know-"

"Yeah, doc," said Tate with a smile. "I know what you were doing. Come on. Let's go get that coffee."

They spent a couple of hours together, deliberately talking about anything other than Westfield. Despite the game of pretend, neither could shake the feeling of something big looming on the horizon. They went their separate ways after their cups ran dry. Ben really did have someplace to be and Tate needed some time to himself. Time to prepare.

...

When Ben had agreed to Chad's suggestion about having Patrick fetch more pumpkins he had forgotten how particular the man was about his gourds. Ben had to go clear down to the pier, to the city's smallest farmer's market. He got there early and grabbed some coffee and a bagel at the quaint little open-air cafe just beside the entrance. Then he sat down at a table with a good view of the passing foot traffic.

He was there maybe fifteen minutes when he sensed and then saw Patrick. About the same time Pat looked right at him, detecting his presence as well as his attention. He eyed Ben, slowed, then angled toward his table. Ben put on a friendly smile.

"Hey," he said as if the meeting were a chance and pleasant surprise.

"What're you doing here?" said Patrick. He sounded suspicious but not hostile.

"Having some coffee," said Ben, lifting his almost-empty cup. "Then I'm grabbing some things for the girls. You?"

Pat eyed him, then said: "Chad's got me looking for more pumpkins. Apparently twenty isn't enough."

"Twenty?" Ben smiled.

"Give or take," Patrick said. "Maybe more. All sizes. He's even worse with the apples."

Ben chuckled. "Yeah, I've noticed that." He paused then said, "Do you want a cup of coffee? I was just about to get another one."

Patrick eyed him again. For a moment Ben thought he was going to say no but the man shrugged a beefy shoulder. "Sure."

Ben pushed himself out of the chair and together they headed over to the cafe's outside walk-up window. He let Patrick order first then put in his and paid for both, since he'd made the offer. When they had their cups they went back to the table Ben had been sitting at.

"So what's Chad planning this Halloween?" asked Ben as he stirred cream into his coffee.

"Nothing special," said Patrick. He sipped his mocha. "He just loves the excuse to redecorate the house."

Ben had been hoping for a tidier segue but the conversation was in danger of stalling out prematurely so he decided to go for broke. "Tate's planning to go up to Westfield on Halloween."

Patrick set his cup down and leveled a serious look at Ben. "What?"

"He wants to put the past to rest," said Ben in a positive way, with the hope that Patrick would latch onto it. "And he feels the best way to do that is by facing the souls of the people he killed."

Pat stared at him. He was getting that same look he had at that ill-fated breakfast. The look that said he was about two seconds away from ripping Ben's face off and feeding it to him. "Was that his idea? Or yours?"

"His," said Ben smoothly. "I told him I'd go with him."

Patrick's mouth tightened around the edges. He put both hands around his coffee cup like it was a throat he'd like to strangle. "You're taking him to Westfield. On Halloween."

Ben was very glad he'd had the presence of mind to do this in a public place. He really didn't like the other man's body language or tone. "Tate decided to go there," he corrected. His smile was gone. "I'm going with him for moral support and to make sure nothing happens to him."

"You didn't think to tell him not to go?" Pat's words were a terse growl.

Ben shrugged a shoulder and pretended not to notice the overt hostility. He was determined to keep this conversation human. "He may take the shape of a child for the sake of your 'arrangement' but he's not a kid. He's as old as you are and he has a right to decide for himself where he goes."

"He never left the house before you and your family showed up!" Patrick snapped. He surprised himself with the amount of venom in his words and he forced himself to sit back in his seat. He was so mad he was starting to tremble. He let go of the cup and shoved his hands down under the table so Ben wouldn't see how out of control he felt.

But Ben could feel the rage coming off the other man like waves of heat. If they hadn't been in the middle of the farmer's market, Ben might actually be worried. "And you think that's a good thing?"

Pat's jaw clenched as the verbal trap snared him. Unlike Chad, he couldn't think fast when he was pissed off. He did much better hitting things when he was mad.

Ben scored the fuming silence as a direct hit. "Why are you so angry, Patrick? Don't you think those kids he killed deserve an explanation for what he did? You do know what he did to them?"

"Yeah," Pat grunted. "I know. I also know that's not what this is about. Not for you."

Ben arched his brows and lit a cigarette. "Really. What's it about, for me?"

Pat got the distinct feeling of wading into a murky, snake-infested swamp. But he had no choice other than to plow ahead. He sure as hell couldn't back down. "I don't know, Ben. I can't figure out what you get out of playing head games with a kid. And he is a kid. He died when he was seventeen. You're the shrink. You can see as easy as anyone that he's stuck there."

Ben exhaled smoke, slow and deliberate. "Then why are you having sex with him?"

Patrick's expression froze along with the blood he didn't have. Then his phantom heart was pounding like a cheetah's on the hunt. He suffered an incredibly strong impulse to throw the whole table at the smug man but he managed to check the urge. But as the rage subsided it unmasked the guilt that was lurking behind it. He rubbed his face with both hands then ran them through his short hair. He exhaled roughly and looked away. Nowhere in particular. Just not at Ben.

The therapist decided to let him off the hook because he didn't really care. He was satisfied with simply having verification that his suspicions were true. The rest was all Patrick's to deal with.

"It's obvious you and Tate have bonded," he said in his kindly shrink tone. It was the first one he'd learned from Doctor Lanyon. "That's not a bad thing. Especially in a situation like yours where you can't go anywhere most of the time."

Pat looked at him skeptically. But he was looking at him. Ben was pleased.

"He's going to go to Westfield," the doctor went on. "He's going to do that whether I'm with him or not. He made that clear to me. If you really want what's best for him, instead of making this more difficult, think about going with him instead. He's going to need all the support he can get. Whatever's going to happen there, it can't kill him but it can hurt him in ways we can't prepare for. I know you know that. He needs us to be his first response team, Patrick. Not part of the problem."

Patrick shifted in his seat and folded his arms. He didn't want to listen to Ben. He didn't want any of what the man was saying to make sense. But it did. He frowned and looked at the ground. It took him a while to say anything. Finally he looked up and his expression was pained. "What do I have to do?"

Ben couldn't be more satisfied. "I don't really know what - if anything - any of us can do except go with him. So he won't have to deal with that many people alone."

"What if they attack?" asked Pat helplessly. "Are we just supposed to stand there and let them?" He shook his head. "I don't want to throw down with a bunch of murder victims but I don't think I can just stand by and let a mob tear him apart. "

"I don't think that will happen," said Ben.

"But you don't know."

Ben shook his head now. "No. I don't. But I've met some of them. They're not bad kids. They're hurt. Confused. Angry, yeah. But weren't you?"

Patrick rubbed the back of his neck self-consciously. "Yeah, Ben. That's what's got me so concerned. You remember what I was like."

"And you got past it," Ben reminded.

"Not before I killed him a few times," Patrick said. It was the first time he said that out loud. It didn't feel good, saying it. "He took my life and gave me... this. This thing. I don't know what this is or why we're even sitting here when we're not even fucking alive. I'm never going to get over being dead because of him. I'm stuck with it. They're not going to get over it either. There's nothing he can do to make it better, Ben. He changed all of us permanently and going to Westfield on Halloween isn't going to fix that."

"You make some very valid points," the therapist remarked. "But we don't really know what will happen. For all we know, if he goes there and apologizes like he says he wants to, all those trapped souls could be freed."

The skeptical look was back. "You've seen too many movies," said Pat.

"We don't really know," Ben insisted. "For all we know, all of this could end at any time, for no reason. No one understands ghosts or hauntings. Not even the oldest among us knows why or what we are or what keeps us tied here. But those kids deserve a chance at peace. And so does Tate."

"No!" Patrick objected.

"No?" Ben echoed in surprise.

"No, he doesn't!" said Pat. He sat forward. "I'm not going to be stuck in that house while he migrates on because he settled things with them!"

Ben flicked his cigarette butt away and gave the other man new consideration. "You're afraid he's not going to come back from Westfield?"

Patrick didn't want to answer that. He didn't have to.

"I seriously doubt Tate's going to suddenly springboard into heaven if he goes and apologizes to the people he killed," Ben said mildly, trying his best to word it so that Patrick could see for himself how silly the notion was.

Pat wasn't reassured. Much. He put his hands loosely around his coffee cup and picked at a chip in the ceramic. "I'll go," he said after a moment. "But I don't like this."

...

Author's Note:

The stage is set. But will the end result be a triumph? Or just another tragedy? You'll have to stay tuned to find out.

When I set up the conversation with Ben and Patrick, I had no idea how it would go. A lot came out that I wasn't expecting. It's funny how things roll out when you don't pre-plan them. I think the talk was good for both of them though. Well, more for Patrick than Ben. Ben's self-satisfaction kind of made me want to step on his foot. He's got the biggest ego of any of the characters, I think.

The "he took my life..." line Patrick says is a bastardization of what Claudia told Louis when she discovered he and Lestat had turned her into a vampire in Interview with a Vampire.

As a side note, I noticed in Coven that the football jacket Kyle wears has the same colors to it as the one Westfield High's Kyle wears. The main difference: Kyle G's jacket has a W on it and Kyle S's jacket has a K.

Next chapter: Chloe surprises Ben by taking him up on his offer of ghost therapy. Also, I should warn you that this episode got so long it needed 10 chapters. I just couldn't squish it down more.