Prompt: Trick or Treat, from AMessofPickles
Summary: Because even spy moms have a right to be worried.
A/N: Goodness, I realize this is much overdue... however, I did write it before Halloween, but only now did I find it on my computer. Much apologies about that. Still, I hope you'll enjoy it. :)

It's that time of year again. The trees turn golden and orange and red, and the air is sharp with autumn. But there's a sharpness in her heart, too, a pang that a million cups of apple cider won't subdue.

She drives out into the town that night, leaving Gallagher Academy in the hands of her sister. Just one night, she promises, and Abby smiles at her with a look of understanding and nods, but Rachel thinks that inside Abby's hurting as much as she is. She laments this as she stares at the road, alone in the car, wondering how she let her daughter get away. Careless. Careless, her mind repeats, over and over again.

She let her husband get away, too. She stayed at home and took the news and tried to never let her hopes get up again, but they come back year after year, like the leaves on a tree. A part of her nags, still alive. Still alive.

The house is small, tucked away. A safehouse, of sorts, in case they ever need to flee back into the actual town of Roseville. In case Gallagher Academy, with its strong walls and windows, ever fails to keep her family of little girls safe. Too late, chides her internal voice again. It didn't keep your daughter in. Rachel Morgan closes her eyes and grabs her keys, slamming the car door a bit harder than intended. No other girls are going to disappear on my watch, she thinks grimly, picturing all the wide-eyed freshmen, sophomores, juniors and seniors. All still so innocent, despite what they think.

She slides the one key that she never uses into the lock and turns it, opening the door and creeping around quietly, even though she knows that it's empty. No one else knows about this house. It's a last resort, but only an in-between. There's not much to live on in this house. It was bought as a middle point – rest for the night here, gather supplies, and then run on. There's nothing here for her except for the creak of wooden floorboards being tread upon for the first time. No pictures of Cammie or Matthew. Rachel thought that coming here would make her feel better, since there's nothing to make her think of them. And for a little time, it works.

There's a full moon outside when, after tidying up absentmindedly, she hears the doorbell ring. The first thought that registers is "Cammie?" before she remembers that Cammie doesn't know about this place.

She opens the door to see a few beaming faces smiling up at her, buckets half-filled with candy.

"Trick or treat!" they chorus hopefully, eyeing her empty hands. A flashlight breaks through the dark, and Rachel squints down the lane to see a few parents watching over their kids. What sort of parent would let their child traipse up to a house on the outskirt of town? wonders Rachel. The kids fidget restlessly, suddenly uncertain. Perhaps there will be no treat after all.

A hazy ghost image of Cammie, shrunk to kindergarten size, floats in her view, and Rachel finds her throat clogged with worry.

"There's no candy here," she apologizes, sounding as sad as the children do as they stare up at her, moaning, "Awwwwwww."

She sends them off with a wave, and a quiet wish: "Be safe." After the flashlight beam retreats, she closes the door and sinks to the ground.

There's no candy here, she thinks. Because there's no one else here, either.

Reviews are as sweet as candy. :P