She could feel Buffy's disappointment as the three of them went out the door.

CHAPTER 7.

Outside Sunnydale High, kids were being dropped off by the dozens, screaming and shouting and waving their trick-or-treat bags as they stampeded into the building. Inside, the hallways swarmed with fierce little demons and goblins, while students valiantly tried to separate them into manageable groups.

"Where's your bodyguard, Harris? Curling her hair?"

Xander heard Larry coming before he actually saw him. When he turned around, Larry was swaggering toward him, dressed as a pirate and brandishing a plastic sword. Featuring baggy shorts, T-shirt, fake scars, and eye patch, Larry's costume was even less inspired than Xander's.

Xander glared at him. Larry made a sudden jerking movement with his sword, and Xander instinctively flinched. Laughing, Larry walked off.

Xander lifted his machine gun and took careful aim at Larry's back. His finger itched on the trigger, but after several seconds, he lowered the gun again in disgust. Even with a plastic toy, he couldn't quite bring himself to shoot.

Farther down the corridor, Principal Snyder was leading a small group of children over to Buffy. As she quickly scanned their eager faces, she couldn't help noticing that there was a vampire among them.

"Here's your group, Summers." Principal Snyder gave her his usual sneer. "No need to speak to them-the last thing they need is your influence. Just bring them back in one piece and I won't expel you."

Buffy returned his look with one of her own. As he walked away, she leaned over to the kids with a smile.

"Hi," she began, then noticed Principal Snyder standing a few feet away. Scowling at her.

Around the corner, Oz was kneeling on the floor by his locker, carefully inspecting his guitar. Glancing up, he saw Cordelia marching up to him in a skintight leopard leotard, cat ears, mittens, and drawn-on whiskers.

"Oz. Oz."

Oz waited, calmly assessing her.

"Cordelia," he finally said. "You're like a great big cat."

"That's my costume," Cordelia returned impatiently. "Are you guys playing tonight?"

"At the Shelter Club."

Cordelia raised her chin haughtily. "Is mister 'I'm the lead singer I'm so great I don't have to show up for a date or even call' gonna be there?"

"Yeah," Oz deadpanned, standing up. "You know, he's just going by Devon now."

Cordelia wasn't amused. "Well, you can tell him that I don't care, and that I didn't even mention it and I didn't even see you so that's just fine."

Oz continued to stare at her. He gave a slight nod. "Sowhat do I tell him?"

"Nothing!"Cordelia exploded. "Jeez, get with the program."

Furiously she stalked off, leaving Oz unimpressed and completely unperturbed.

"Why can't I meet a nice girl like that?" he mumbled to himself.

Standing up, he turned and bumped right into Willow, who was still covered with her ghost sheet.

"Sorry," Oz said, trying to untangle himself.

"Sorry," Willow replied, trying to help him.

"Sorry."

"I'm sorry."

Flustered, Willow moved on. Oz stood and watched her a moment, then headed off in the opposite direction.

At the end of the hallway, Xander was lecturing his own little group of trick-or-treaters.

"Okay," Xander informed them officiously. "On sleazing extra candy. Tears are the key. Tears'll usually get you a double-bagger. You can also try the old 'you missed me' routine, but it's risky. Only go there for chocolate." He paused, letting his instructions sink in. "Understood?

The kids all nodded.

"Good." Xander straightened and squared his shoulders. "Troops, let's move out."

Within minutes, Xander's group had joined the others outside. While student volunteers hurried to keep up, costumed children raced eagerly from house to house, their delighted squeals and make-believe screams echoing through the neighborhood. They were all having so much fun, time practically flew by, and before they knew it, the streets had grown darker and spooky with shadows.

As Buffy's weary group returned from a house, she couldn't help noticing their dejected expressions.

"What'd Mrs. Davis give you?" she asked them, concerned.

They opened their hands to show her. They were holding brand new toothbrushes.

Buffy sounded indignant. "She must be stopped." She herded the kids together and steered them down the sidewalk. "Let's hit one more house. We still have a few minutes before we've got to get back."

Perking up, the children ran off again, leaving Buffy to smile at their enthusiasm. She was glad she'd been roped into doing this, after all-the evening had turned out to be much more fun than she'd ever imagined.

She had no way of knowing that the fun was about to end.

That at this very moment, in the back room of Ethan's Costume Shop, a black-hooded figure was kneeling before a row of black candles, reciting an incantation.

"Janus, hear my plea."Ethan Rayne spoke the words, but he spoke them now in Latin."Take this night as your own. Come forth and show us yourtruth."

Buffy felt an inexplicable shiver go through her.

At the house on the corner, kindly Mrs. Parker came to the front door, smiling and handing out candy to the group of giggling monsters. Willow waited patiently for them at the end of the porch. The wind was starting to pick up, and the chill in the air had grown noticeably sharper. She huddled into her ghost sheet, wishing she'd dressed warmer underneath.

"Trick or treat!" the children shouted.

"Oh, my goodness," Mrs. Parker beamed at them. "Aren't you adorable!"

In the costume shop, Ethan picked up the statue, his hands leaving bloody prints upon the stone. His face dripped with sweat, his body trembled feverishly. And then, again in Latin, he chanted,"The mask ismade flesh. The heart is curdled by your holy presence.Janus, this night is yours!"

Buffy ushered her kids quickly down the block. A sudden gust of wind sent a second, deeper shudder down her back. She stopped, frowning.

Something wasn't right.

At the house on the corner, Mrs. Parker was looking down at the plastic pumpkin in her hands. She shook her head in utter dismay.

"Oh, dear," she mumbled. "Am I all out? I could havesworn I had some candy left."

In Ethan's Costume Shop, the candles went out.

The only light now was the one emanating from the hideous statue, casting a sickly green glow through the shadows.

Ethan Rayne lowered his hood.

A satisfied grin spread slowly across his face.

"Show time,"he whispered.

CHAPTER 8.

Mrs. Parker looked down at the trick-or-treaters clustered around her. Miniature demons, vampires, gargoyles, and witches-they were all staring at her and at her empty candy container.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Monster," Mrs. Parker sighed, playing along. "Maybe I-"

She never got to finish her apology. Without warning, a slimy green hand caught her by the throat and yanked her forward. As she tried desperately to scream, she could see that the hand belonged to the make-believe gargoyle.

Except he wasn't make-believe anymore.

Where a costumed child had stood only seconds before, there was now areal gargoyle. As horribly real as the rest of the creatures swarming over her porch.

Willow couldn't believe what was happening. "Let her go!" she cried, trying to reach Mrs. Parker.

A horned demon deliberately blocked her way. As the demon turned and attacked the gargoyle, Mrs.

Parker was finally able to break free and scramble inside to safety, locking the door behind her.

"What-" Willow mumbled. "What's-"

She tried to back off the porch. She felt dizzy and weak and strange. Stumbling, she gasped for breath.

Her eyes grew wide with terror. The next instant she fell to the ground, her body limp and lifeless beneath its sheet.

The whole neighborhood was in chaos.

From every street, sidewalk, and corner came shrieks of terror, car alarms, cries for help, sounds of running, howling, the shatter of breaking glass. The air was thick with panic and the smell of fear.

As hysterical children raced past him for cover, Xander turned in confusion and immediately deshouldered his plastic machine gun. For a split second he felt a peculiar dizziness throughout his whole body. Staggering a little, he tried to keep his balance, then just as quickly felt the dizziness leave him, clearing his head once more.

His posture went ramrod straight.

He raised his gun.

Not the plastic gun he'd held only a moment ago, but a fully functional M-16 machine gun.

Xander didn't even look surprised. His demeanor now was all military, his jaw set, his eyes like steel.

In front of Mrs. Parker's house, Willow felt herself sit up. She still felt peculiar, not quite herself, but at least the awful dizziness had gone. She stood slowly, trying to remember exactly what had happened.

And then she looked down at her feet.

"Oh. Oh my God . . ."

She was still lying there on the porch.

Or, at least, herghost was.

Willow stared at the ghost sheet, at the lifeless form that lay beneath it. And then she looked down at her own clothes.

The Willow standing here was wearing a miniskirt and halter top-the rocker-babe costume that Buffy had picked out for her. But the Willow lying there wasn't moving at all-in fact, the standing Willow could see her own boots submerged in the sleeping Willow, as though the two of them were still precariously connected.

Willow's voice was barely a whisper. "I'm a. I'm a real ghost."

Machine gun fire sounded behind her. Willow turned to see Xander backing across the street, surveying the area in silent panic.

"Xander!"

As joy and relief swept through her, Willow raced over to her old friend. But to her dismay, Xander whipped around and pointed his gun straight at her.

"Xander, it's me. Willow!"

Xander eyed her suspiciously. He cautiously low ered his gun.

"I don't know any Willow," he said.

"Quit messing around, Xander," Willow pleaded. "This is no time for jokes."

Xander's stare was cold. "What the hell is going on here?"

"You don't know me?" Willow peered earnestly into his face, but there wasn't a hint of recognition.

"Lady, I suggest you find cover."