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It was the week of Halloween. The streets of L.A. were decorated with lights and pumpkins. L.A. was always a city that went all out for Halloween. The city was filled with haunted houses and all kinds of carnivals. Los Angeles was famous for being “extra.” Halloween was never a joke for the city – which was often why October 31st was one of the worst days to be a first responder. The shifts were long and constant, with barely a moment to catch a break.
Today was the 29th, which meant there were two more days until Halloween. Buck and Eddie had just returned home and had the day off tomorrow, but both were scheduled to work on the 31st. They had come off a long 24-hour shift and were ready to collapse and sleep for years.
“I can’t believe we’re finally home,” Eddie said, throwing his work bag onto the floor. “That shift felt like it would never end.”
“Why don’t you go take a shower,” Buck said, leaning in to kiss his boyfriend’s lips, “and I’ll get started on breakfast. Then we can head to bed.”
“That sounds…” Eddie kissed Buck back and rested his face in the crook of Buck’s neck. “Amazing.”
Eddie walked down the hallway, grabbed some spare clothes, and went into the bathroom to turn on the shower.
Buck walked into the kitchen and opened the fridge to see what he could work with. He took out the eggs and some orange juice, then put two slices of bread in the toaster. When the first two pieces of toast were done, he put in the next two while keeping an eye on the eggs sizzling in the pan on the stove.
Christopher had already been picked up by Carla for school and wouldn’t be back until later that afternoon. The Buckley-Diaz family hadn’t planned a big party or anything since Buck and Eddie were working on Halloween and Chris would be at Hen and Karen’s with Karen, since Hen was also working that night. All the 118 kids would be there. Eddie always felt a little guilty about leaving Karen alone with five kids, but May had mentioned in the group chat that she’d come by to keep Karen company and help out.
Buck had put on some music – his usual breakfast playlist. The eggs were done, so he plated them with the two slices of toast for Eddie, then moved on to his own plate. He set the dishes on the wooden table and sat down, waiting for Eddie to come out of the shower.
Eddie sat down on the blue couch in his and Buck’s living room and turned on the TV. The news flickered to life, the bright studio lights cutting through the cozy dimness of their apartment. On the screen, Taylor Kelly was reporting live about something happening downtown – another Halloween event, maybe, or one of those wild L.A. stories that always seemed to happen this time of year.
Eddie wasn’t really listening. He’d never been Taylor’s biggest fan. Back when she and Buck were together, he’d told himself it was just because she was a reporter who liked stirring things up. But if he was being honest, there had always been something sharper underneath that – a small twist of jealousy he hadn’t wanted to name.
He’d seen the way Buck had looked at her once. And even now, years later, he couldn’t quite forget it. It wasn’t that he thought Taylor was a bad person, but Eddie didn’t trust her. Maybe it was her habit of chasing headlines before people. Maybe it was just instinct. Either way, the feeling was mutual – she hadn’t exactly hidden her disapproval of him, and Eddie was fine keeping things that way.
He leaned back against the couch, running a tired hand through his damp hair, the faint smell of Buck’s cooking still lingering in the air. The day had been long, but the silence in their home – the warmth of it – helped settle the noise in his head.
“What are you looking at, Eddie?”
Buck’s voice broke his thoughts. He walked into the living room, hair still damp from his shower, a faint smile tugging at his lips. He dropped onto the couch beside Eddie, their shoulders brushing. “Why are you watching my ex on TV?”
Eddie snorted and leaned into him, pressing a quick kiss to Buck’s cheek. “She was anchoring the news,” he said with a shrug. “I wasn’t really watching.”
Buck chuckled, sliding an arm around him. “Good. I’d hate to think you missed my eggs for her breaking news report.”
Eddie laughed softly, letting himself relax fully against Buck’s side as the noise of the television faded into the background. For a moment, everything felt calm – ordinary. Neither of them knew how quickly that calm was about to shatter.
The night was dark – the kind of dark that seemed to swallow the streets whole. The rain tapped against the windows, a rhythm so uneven it made you wonder whether it was really rain… or someone tossing small stones against the glass. The wind howled through the narrow streets, rattling signs and making the trees outside sway like they were dancing to some ghostly tune.
Pumpkins lined the porches, their carved faces glowing faintly through the downpour. Each flickering candlelight made their grins twist and shift, as if they were alive – laughing quietly at the living who dared to walk by. The orange glow shimmered on wet pavement, casting long, crooked shadows that slithered across the neighborhood.
The shadows were moving tonight. Drifting from house to house. Window to window. Knock after knock.
“9-1-1, what’s your emergency?”
“I– I think… I think there’s a clown outside my house.”
“Sir, it’s Halloween season. There are going to be clowns around.”
“No, you don’t understand– this one… oh my god… the clown has a knife!”
“Sir? Sir– are you still there? Sir?”
Only silence answered. Then, faintly through the static, came a sound – a slow, wet laugh before the line went dead.
Eddie and Buck walked into the station the next morning, hands clasped together, still riding the quiet comfort of their morning coffee. The faint hum of conversation echoed through the bay as they passed a few B-shifters heading out, trading tired smiles and waves.
Up in the loft, Bobby stood near the railing, arms folded as he looked out over the trucks below. The smell of bacon and toast drifted down from the kitchen. Hen and Chimney were already in the locker room, chatting between yawns as they pulled on their gear.
Buck tossed his duffel into his locker while Eddie changed beside him. “You ready for a long one?” Eddie asked.
Buck grinned. “With you? Always.”
A few minutes later, the four of them climbed the stairs to the loft where Bobby had laid out breakfast – omelets, toast, fruit, and enough coffee to power the entire department.
“Morning, Cap,” Buck said, sliding into a chair.
“Morning,” Bobby replied, voice serious. “You’re gonna need this. It’s shaping up to be a long day.”
They dug in while Bobby glanced at his notes. “A man was found dead outside his home early this morning–”
A low groan passed around the table. Hen sighed. “Can’t we start Halloween week with something easy for once?”
Bobby gave her a faint smile. “Wish I could promise that.”
Eddie leaned back in his chair. “Any idea what happened yet?”
“Not much. Dispatch said the guy called in a panic before it happened – something about a clown walking around outside.”
Buck froze mid-bite. “Clowns?”
Eddie gave him a look. “Oh, come on, Buck. It’s Halloween. Of course there are going to be clowns.”
Buck pointed at him with his fork. “Yeah, but what if… the killer clowns are back?”
The table went silent. Everyone stared at him.
Chim blinked. “The what now?”
“The killer clowns! You guys don’t remember that? Back in 2016 – people dressed up as clowns to scare or, like, actually hurt people. It was all over the news!”
Hen raised an eyebrow. “You mean those viral prank videos?”
Buck shook his head. “No, it was real! At least some of it. There were sightings everywhere – people with machetes, baseball bats–”
Eddie laughed, cutting him off. “Buck, there are not murder clowns running around L.A.”
Bobby sipped his coffee. “Yeah, this was probably just a coincidence.”
Buck looked around the table, unconvinced. “Right… coincidence.”
The sound of the alarm suddenly broke through the room, the shrill tone echoing off the metal walls.
Bobby’s eyes met Buck’s. “Guess we’ll find out.”
The call came in quickly after the shift had started – a small house fire just outside the city. The 118 jumped into the firetruck and sped off, sirens cutting through the early morning air. Eddie, Buck, and Ravi sat on one side of the back seat, while Chim and Hen sat on the other. Bobby rode up front, already calling out the plan over the roar of the engine.
On the way to the scene, the team picked up their earlier conversation about the so-called killer clowns. Buck, of course, tried to convince everyone that they were back, while the others laughed and disagreed. Before long, the topic shifted to something lighter – the barbecue Athena and Bobby were hosting that weekend. They debated who was bringing what, Hen teasing Chim about his “experimental” side dishes while Eddie promised to show up hungry.
When they arrived, the house was already burning – not fully engulfed, but the flames were spreading fast enough to demand their full attention. Smoke curled up into the gray sky as orange light danced in the windows. It wasn’t beyond saving, though; if they worked quickly, the damage could be contained.
“Ravi, Buck – you’re heading inside to check for victims,” Bobby barked, scanning the scene as he issued orders. “Hen, Chim – you’re on the exterior, treat anyone who’s gotten out. Eddie, you’re with me on the hose line.”
The team split off instantly, each member moving with the smooth rhythm that came from years of working together. Buck and Ravi grabbed their gear and ran toward the burning house. In a blink, they disappeared into the smoke.
Buck and Ravi entered the house, the heat hitting them like a wall. The air was thick — heavy with smoke and the bitter sting of burning wood. Every breath scraped against their throats through the masks. The walls were already radiating heat, and the smoke was rising faster than it should. Not the worst sign, but not good either.
“Let’s split up,” Buck said through the comms, his voice steady but tight. “You take the first floor. I’ll check upstairs.”
Ravi nodded, disappearing into the swirling haze.
Buck took the stairs two at a time, the wood groaning under his boots. The visibility was terrible – gray smoke swallowing everything – but he moved on instinct, sweeping his flashlight across the walls.
“Fire Department! Call out if you can hear me!” he shouted, voice muffled behind the mask.
One room – clear.
Next room – empty.
He moved quickly, using the extinguisher to knock down flames licking the walls. The crackle of burning timber and the hiss of steam filled the air. Sweat dripped down his temples beneath the helmet.
Downstairs, Ravi moved through the kitchen and living room, methodical but alert. The flames danced across the counters and cabinets, casting flickering orange light over everything. He sprayed bursts of suppressant, keeping the fire at bay.
“Cap, no signs of life so far,” Ravi said into the radio, stepping over debris. “Checking the kitchen now–”
A sound stopped him. Footsteps. Soft, deliberate.
“Buck?” he called out. No answer.
He turned toward the noise – and froze.
A figure stood just beyond the smoke. The beam of Ravi’s flashlight cut through the haze and revealed it: a clown. A painted white face, smeared red smile stretching too wide. And in its hand – a knife that gleamed in the firelight.
Ravi barely had time to react. A flash of movement. A sharp, white-hot pain tore through his abdomen.
He gasped, stumbling backward, the extinguisher clattering to the floor. The clown was already retreating, melting back into the smoke before Ravi could even comprehend what had happened.
“Cap– do you copy?” Ravi’s voice shook as he pressed a trembling hand to his side. His glove came away slick with blood.
“I’m here, Panikkar. What’s happening?” Bobby’s voice came through, urgent.
“I’m– I’m stabbed… I was stabbed. By a clown.”
The silence on the line was deafening – disbelief, confusion, and fear all crackling through the static.
“Eddie’s on his way in to get you out,” Bobby said quickly. Ravi could faintly hear Eddie shouting in the background. “Just hang on, kid. Stay awake as long as you can, you hear me?”
Ravi’s vision blurred, the edges of the world darkening as the fire roared around him.
Buck and Eddie returned home after the longest shift of their lives. Ravi had been rushed to the hospital before he could bleed out in the ambulance, and Athena had gone straight there to take his statement once he was out of surgery.
“I can’t believe it,” Buck muttered, dropping his duffel bag onto the hardwood floor with a dull thud. He pulled off his jacket, exhaustion and guilt etched deep into his face. “Why didn’t I see the clown, Eds? I was right there.”
Eddie gave his boyfriend a sympathetic look. He knew that tone – the way Buck tore himself apart when things went wrong. Everyone knew it wasn’t his fault. Bobby knew. Athena knew. Hen and Chim knew. Even Ravi, pale and half-conscious in the back of the ambulance, had managed to rasp out that it wasn’t on Buck. But that didn’t matter. Buck still blamed himself. Ravi had been the first probie he ever truly mentored – and in Buck’s mind, that made him responsible.
“Buck,” Eddie said softly, stepping forward and wrapping his arms around him. He pressed a kiss against Buck’s cheek, grounding him. “Ravi getting attacked while you were on another floor wasn’t your fault. Hell, it could’ve been mine or Bobby’s. We didn’t see the clown come in from the outside. Is that our fault too?”
Buck hesitated. “No–”
“Then it’s not yours either,” Eddie finished gently.
Buck didn’t answer. He just nodded and slipped out of the embrace, moving toward the kitchen. He needed something to do. Something normal.
He’d promised Eddie a quiet night in – a little peace before Halloween chaos. Christopher was at a sleepover with his friend Penny, and Buck had decided to make Bobby’s famous lasagna from scratch. The kitchen was his safe place, the one part of the world he could still control.
He lit a few candles on the counter, turned on his favorite playlist, and pulled on his brown faux-leather apron. The soft glow of the flames flickered across his tired face as he began to cook.
The sound of sizzling filled the air – meat browning in the pan, spices mixing, the comforting rhythm of normalcy. Buck hummed along to the music as he layered the lasagna.
Pasta. Meat. Cheese.
Pasta. Meat. Cheese.
Pasta. Meat. Cheese.
Pasta. Meat. Cheese.
He exhaled, smiling faintly at his handiwork, and slid the dish into the oven. For a moment, the house felt warm again. Safe.
Then came the knock.
A sharp, hollow bang from the back door.
Buck frowned. He wiped his hands on a towel and walked to the kitchen door leading to the backyard. When he opened it, cold air rushed in – but there was nothing there. Just rain tapping against the patio, wind whistling through the fence.
“Probably a loose gate,” he muttered, closing the door.
He turned back toward the oven – bang.
Another knock. This time, from the front door.
Buck froze. His pulse quickened. He wasn’t the jumpy type, but something about the timing… the silence between each knock… it set his nerves on edge.
“Trick-or-treaters already?” he said under his breath, forcing a laugh that didn’t quite sound real.
He walked down the hall, each step echoing louder than it should have. When he opened the front door – again, nothing. Empty driveway. Still air.
He stepped outside, scanning the street. It was quiet, too quiet. The neighborhood lights flickered weakly in the mist. Probably kids, he told himself. Probably.
Then, behind him, the floorboards creaked.
Buck turned.
And there it was – standing in the doorway.
The clown.
Its face was half-hidden by shadow, but the twisted red grin was unmistakable. The costume was soaked, streaked with what might’ve been rain… or blood.
The clown tilted its head slowly, the knife glinting in its hand.
Buck’s heart stopped. His breath caught in his throat.
Then the clown smiled wider – a smile that would haunt Buck for the rest of his life… if he survived this.
“Run.”
It's not Halloween yet, but the ghosts you dressed up as sure knows how to haunt.
Yes, it knows how to haunt
Eddie had just finished drying off after his shower when he caught the faint, unmistakable scent of smoke.
He froze.
That wasn’t the lingering kind of smoke that clung to him after a long shift – this was fresh. Sharp. Acrid.
His heart started pounding. Why was there smoke? Was something burning? No, it couldn’t be–
But then he saw it.
A thin gray haze creeping from under the kitchen doorway, twisting like ghostly fingers into the hallway light.
“Buck?” Eddie called out, voice tight. No answer.
Panic surged through his chest. The towel slipped from his shoulder as he ran for the kitchen.
Flames licked up the side of the oven, the candles Buck had lit now overturned and guttering on the counter. Smoke billowed toward the ceiling, alarms shrieking. For a moment, the chaos and confusion blurred together – the crackle of fire, the sting of heat, the faint smell of burning cheese.
Instinct took over. Firefighter mode.
Eddie dashed toward the storage cabinet, yanking out the extinguisher. He pulled the pin, aimed low, and blasted the flames until they sputtered and died, the room filling with white mist instead of black smoke. His breathing came hard, his pulse hammering in his ears.
“Buck!” he shouted again, louder this time. He turned in circles, scanning the kitchen, the living room, every corner he could see through the haze. Nothing.
The house was silent except for the dying hiss of the extinguisher.
Eddie’s stomach dropped.
He tore through the rooms – the bedroom, the hallway, even the back door – but Buck was nowhere. Then, in the corner of his vision, he noticed it.
The front door. Wide open.
A gust of cold air swept through the entryway, carrying with it the faintest echo of laughter.
Eddie’s throat tightened. He bolted outside, barefoot, scanning the driveway, the street, the yard. Nothing. Just darkness and the sound of wind moving through the trees.
He stood there for a moment, chest heaving, dread clawing at his ribs.
Buck was gone.
Eddie fumbled for his phone, hands shaking, and pressed the one number he knew would answer.
“Athena Grant,” he said, his voice low and breaking. “I need your help.”
Buck ran – and he ran fast.
The cold night air tore at his lungs as his boots pounded the empty suburban street. Behind him, the sound of laughter – high, distorted, and wrong – echoed through the dark. The clown was gaining on him, knife glinting under the flicker of a streetlight.
Buck pushed harder, adrenaline flooding his veins. He could hear the footsteps closing in, the metal scraping against the pavement. He was a six-foot-two firefighter sprinting for his life through a quiet neighborhood, and somehow, no one saw a thing. Windows stayed dark. Curtains didn’t move. It was as if the whole world had turned its back.
“Come on, come on,” he gasped, forcing his legs to move faster, his breath clouding in the cold.
Then – his foot caught on something.
A small rock.
He stumbled, momentum carrying him forward before he hit the pavement hard, pain exploding through his palms and knees. The breath was knocked clean out of him.
Behind him, the clown laughed again – closer this time, the sound slicing through the night like the edge of its blade.
Buck lifted his head, eyes wide, realizing he might not get up in time.
Athena was driving her police cruiser while Eddie sat nervously in the seat beside her. When she had gotten the call from Eddie that there had both been a fire and Buck was missing, she dropped everything and picked the other man up.
“What if we don’t find him, Athena… what if the clown or something took him, or worse–”
“Eddie, we can’t think like that. We’ll drive around and see if we can find him.”
They drove deeper into the suburbs, and to their surprise, they found the clown.
Athena yelled at the clown to drop his weapon–and it did.
Buck woke up to the sound of a steady beeping. For a moment, everything was hazy – the smell of disinfectant, the soft hum of machines, the weight of the blanket over him. Of course, he was in the hospital. Again. Buck could never catch a break.
“Hey, Buck.”
He turned his head slowly, wincing at the tug of pain behind his temple. Eddie was sitting at his bedside, eyes tired but filled with relief. “You’re okay,” Eddie said softly. “You’ve got a small head wound, but you’re going to be fine.”
Buck blinked, trying to piece together what had happened. “What... what happened?”
“You were chased by a clown,” Eddie said, shaking his head with a mix of disbelief and amusement. “But me and Athena found you just in time.”
Buck let out a breath that was half a laugh. “Thank you for saving me.”
“I’ll always save you,” Eddie replied, squeezing Buck’s hand and giving him a small smile that reached his eyes.
A quiet moment passed before Eddie added, with a teasing grin, “You can repay me by getting me a new kitchen, Buck.”
Buck frowned. “Wait–what happened to the kitchen?”
Eddie chuckled. “That’s a funny story... Remember the lasagna you put in the oven before running from a killer clown?”
Buck’s face shifted from confusion to realization – then to pure annoyance.
“Oh, fuck,” he groaned.