CHAPTER THREE: THE SPIRITS OF HALLOWEEN

"Danny!"

At the sound of his kid brother calling his name, Danny glanced across the hospital's emergency room and saw the last person he wanted to. His father. Standing at the admissions desk with Joe and Mrs. Fleming. He ducked his head, hoping no one other than Joe had seen him yet.

"Danny!" Joe called again. "Hey, Danny, over here!"

Danny glanced over at his brother. Great. It looked like his father had seen him too, and was looking at him with that disapproving, questioning stare. God, this whole evening needed a restart button. At least, the whole evening after fifteen minutes into the horror movie he'd been watching with Al Cleary…

-BB- BB-

"We need a different game," Al Cleary commented as he looked at his now-empty beer bottle. "'Take a drink every time someone does something stupid' makes the beer go away too fast."

Danny looked at his half-full bottle. "Smaller swigs, Al. That's the way to do it."

"Al, how come I can't have a beer? Mom and Dad aren't here. They wouldn't know," Ronnie Cleary whined. He looked down at his soda bottle in disgust.

"Because you're only thirteen. You're too little," Al snipped at his younger brother.

"Well, you're only seventeen, and Danny is only sixteen."

"Almost seventeen," Danny protested. "And it's just different. We're older."

"That's right, Ronnie. We're older. I'm gonna go get another beer." Al headed off toward the kitchen. He returned a few minutes later – longer than Danny had expected – carrying a beer, two glasses and a bottle of whiskey. "Here, Ronnie. You can have this." He held the beer out to his brother.

Ronnie's eyes went wide. "Really?"

"Really," Al confirmed. "Just as long as you don't tell Dad about this." He held up the bottle of whiskey.

"Okay," Ronnie readily agreed.

"Al, you sure you should be raiding your parent's alcohol supply? Won't they find out?" Danny asked.

"Nah," Al dismissed Danny's concern. "Dad's got enough that he won't even notice." He poured generous amount of the whiskey into the glasses, and handed one to Danny.

Danny looked at his glass and estimated it held almost six ounces. "That's a lot more that you usually serve. One or two fingers, max."

Al looked at him. "Whatever. There's lots of stupid acts coming up in this movie. We need to be ready."

And don't you even think about drinking all of that, Daniel! A voice that sounded like Grandma Rose echoed in Danny's head. You remember what I told you about your Grandpop Henry's father. A good man when he could stay off the sauce.

Danny put the glass down. With that much whiskey in the glass, maybe he could cover not drinking very much of it.

"Stupid!" Al called out, and took a swallow of his whiskey. Ronnie picked up his beer bottle and chugged down a good amount of it in response.

Danny looked up at the television and noted that another of the perky blonde sorority sisters had met a grisly end. "Damn. Missed it." And the next time a stupid act occurred, Danny grabbed for his beer. "Why waste good beer? It's only half empty," he'd argued when Al asked why he hadn't gone for the whiskey.

If you've got to drink, Grandson, stick to the beer. What's that saying, beer before liquor, never sicker?

Danny shook his head. Maybe he'd stick with the beer, and just the one. It seemed he was already hearing things. Like Grandma Rose.

And he stuck to that plan until his beer ran out. Then he'd started on the whisky. But not drinking it; just swishing and spitting. Al didn't seem to notice; he'd mostly finished off his glass and didn't seem overly observant anymore. Ronnie had also finished most of the beer Al had given him and seemed to be transfixed on the movie. Of course he was. Most of the people being slaughtered in it were blond, buxom women wearing tight skimpy clothes. Every horror movie cliché designed to hold the attention of a thirteen-year old. But frankly, the movie was boring him. Maybe if it had some coherent plot…

Headlights swept across the room. Danny glanced toward the window. They had to be coming from a car in his driveway. He walked over to the window just in time to see his father's car zipping down the street.

"Wonder where your parents are off to so fast," Al pondered.

Danny hadn't realized Al was right behind him. He shrugged. "Dad going back to something at work, probably." The older boys returned to watching the movie.

The movie finally ended about an hour later. Danny couldn't help but think that competent police work, and a little bit of common sense on the victim's part, could have cut the body count down by half. "Those have got to be some of the stupidest people ever in a movie," Danny commented.

"Yeah," Al agreed. "Y'know, stupid acts by the victims was a bad choice from a drinking game." He burped loudly, then abruptly ran out of the room.

Danny had an idea about where he was headed. He stood up and looked around the room. Ronnie appeared to be passed out. The kid sure couldn't hold his alcohol, if that's what one beer did to him. "Well, Ronnie, we should get this stuff cleaned up, before you parents show up," he commented as he pick up his empty beer bottle and the empty bottle of whiskey. Funny, he didn't think they'd drunk that much of it…

Al returned then, and looked at the bottle in Danny's hand. "Danny, let Ronnie pick up after us," he commented. He lightly kicked his brother's leg. "Hey, Ronnie, wake up. Time to clean up."

Ronnie's only response was to moan and tip over onto his side on the floor.

"Hey, Ronnie, get up." Al nudged his brother with his foot again, but Ronnie didn't react.

Danny looked at the empty whiskey bottle again. "Damn, Al, Ronnie drank most of the whiskey!"

"No way, Dan. We gave him a beer. You saw me."

Danny scooped up Ronnie's mostly-empty beer bottle and sniffed it. "And he refilled it with whiskey." This is bad. He reached down and shook Ronnie's shoulder. Hey, Ronnie. Wake up."

When Ronnie didn't respond, Danny quickly checked his pulse – it was there, at least – and his breathing, which seemed too slow. He tried to pull Ronnie back to a sitting position, but put him down again when the younger boy started seizing.

"Ronnie! Oh, God! Danny, what do we do?" Al moaned.

"We've got to get him to a hospital," Danny said. But you'll not drive half-drunk, Daniel. That boy needs medical care, not a car accident. Call an ambulance. Danny shook his head to get Grandma Rose's voice out of it, and headed for the Cleary's phone.

Al had a different idea. "I'll get the keys. You get Ronnie."

"No." Danny snapped. "We'll call an ambulance. We can't drive." Danny knew he was already in trouble with his parents for the drinking. Probably grounded. But if he drove with any alcohol in his system, he wouldn't just be grounded; he'd be in the ground, probably in a shallow grave out in the woods, because his father would absolutely, positively, no-doubt-about-it kill him for driving even the least bit impaired. "You stay here with him, and I'll go call. Keep him from hurting himself."

It hadn't taken long for the ambulance to arrive, and when it did, the two paramedics had quickly got Ronnie strapped down to a gurney, and instead that he and Al come along to the hospital, to be checked out for alcohol poisoning also. He'd protested, but the police officer that had also shown up made it clear he was with riding in the ambulance as a patient, or in the back of the police car as a prisoner. He could be arrested for underage drinking, the officer had explained. So Danny had decided to get in the ambulance.

-BB- BB-

And now, here he was, half an hour later, being escorted to the Emergency waiting room by Officer Lee, to wait there until a parent could arrive. Although it looked like a parent was already there.

"Hey, Danny!" Joe called again.

"You know that kid?" Officer Lee asked.

"My little brother. And that's my father standing next to him," Danny replied miserably.

"Detective Frank Reagan is your father?" Officer Lee asked as he change course to head for the other Reagans.

"That's him." Danny stood up straighter as they stopped in front of his father.

"Son," Frank said. "What brings you here tonight?"

Danny could hear the disapproval in his father's voice. "Ronnie Cleary. He drank too much."

"Sir, can I explain?" Officer Lee interrupted. "It looks like your son's young friend – this Ronnie Cleary – and another boy got into their father's alcohol cabinet and gave themselves alcohol poisoning. Your son was smart enough to call for help and get them here in time. They should be okay."

"And how much did you drink, Daniel?" Franks asked.

"Just the one beer." Danny looked down at his feet. "And maybe about one shot of whiskey. Figured one of us needed to stay sober." He sure wasn't going to tell his father – or anyone else – that Grandma Rose had been telling him to avoid the whiskey all night.

"Daniel, you know the rules," Frank started to say.

"Aaaaaaaauuuuuuuggghhhhh!" An ear-piercing cry echoed down the hall, followed shortly by another one. Danny recognized the voice as his baby brother.

"Jamie! Dad, what are they doing to Jamie?" Joe obviously also recognized the cry. He tried to run down the hall, but Frank grabbed onto his shoulder and stopped him.

"Joe, it's okay. Jamie cut his leg and needed to get some stitches," Frank explained to both his sons.

Another shrill cry reached their ears, and Joe looked up at his father. "Dad, they're hurting him! Stitches don't hurt that much." Joe bit down on his lower lip and blinked hard to keep the tears back as yet another scream traveled down the hall. "Daddy, do something!"

"Stay here with Mrs. Fleming," Frank ordered. He headed for the treatment room, just in time to meet his wife and the doctor at the door.

-BB- BB-

"Well, now I feel bad. I didn't know I almost made Joe cry with that performance." Jamie said after Danny finished his part of the story.

"And I feel bad again about scaring you and causing you to cut your leg," Erin added before what Jamie had said fully registered. "Wait. Performance? You mean you were faking all that screaming you did when the doctor was putting in the stitches?"

Jamie checked the area around his sister for sharp implements. "Well, not the first one. I yelled because that first stitch felt weird, even with all that numbing medicine they'd poked into my leg with needles."

"But after that?"

"You'd scared me and made me hurt my leg," Jamie argued. "I was kinda mad about that. And you got all upset and teary when I yelped. So I yelled louder the next time, and you got even more upset. You were nearly bawling before the doctor caught on."

"Baby brother totally played you, Sis," Danny laughed. He high-fived his brother.

Erin crossed her arms and glared at her brothers. "You little rat. Just for that, I'm going to plan something special for next Halloween for the both of you. You just wait."

Jamie exchanged a glance with Danny. "Dan, did you hear an evil cackle in here? I think I did."

"I think I did, too." Danny stood up and began walking toward his father's study. "I'm going to go book a ticket for next Halloween to somewhere far away."

Jamie followed his brother. "Book a seat for me also!"

Author Note: In case you're wondering, the "There's a Story Behind That" series is going to be a place for any of my stories inspired by lines from the show, where it seems like there's a whole story behind that line. "Driving with Danny" is unofficially the first in the series, and I have a third in the works!