A/N : So I'm re-watching "Murder House", this time with a friend who's never seen it, and I just couldn't resist another little crossover! rated for language, sexual references, and because Tate didn't want to be in a K-rated piece.

1.

As missions went, this was probably one of the best he'd ever been on. Spying on enemy agents? No problem. Following people through the crowded LA streets? Easy as pie. Being given the night off, since the rest of the team were busy staking out a lab they were pretty sure was trying to weaponise that 'cure'? – even better. If only it hadn't been *this* night though, that he was left to amuse himself but remained on call at a moment's notice back to the team in case anything went wrong.

Why did they have to keep him on call on Hallowe'en of all nights? Peter loved Hallowe'en in a way that most people had grown out of. He loved disguises, trick or treating, scary stories and unwise amounts of candy more than any adult he knew. And Hallowe'en here in Los Angeles was even better than his usual New York-based celebrations. For a start, it wasn't freezing cold here, and for once he wasn't doing too much complaining about being cold when everyone else was begging for a window to be opened. He'd tried to stay in, watch the evening marathon of horror movies, called home to make sure the kids were having a great time and hearing the riot going on in the house indicating that they were, and finally decided that if he couldn't go trick or treating, he was at least getting out of the house for a while. Jean would be able to reach him, even if he was nowhere near a telephone.

Peter's memory for street layouts was usually pretty good, which was why he'd been unpleasantly surprised when he'd passed the sign for Berro Drive on his run. Oh hell no – not there, not now and not ever again. Quickly turning to run toward the coast instead, avoiding the house that still occasionally took a guest spot in his nightmares. Smiling to himself and slowing to a walk to enjoy the lap of waves on the beach, the fresh but not cold breeze on his face. Peter had always loved the sea, remembered a few family holidays basking on beaches with enormous fondness, and was always glad to be near it. Not in it though – boats did nothing for him, and he still wasn't the greatest swimmer.

This though, this was perfect. Calm and balmy and soothing to the soul in a way that was just what he needed right now. Stuffing his hands into his pockets, sauntering along smelling the salt and the smoke from a bonfire somewhere, caught up in a pleasant dreamy state before he had frowned and peered off into the darkness.

Up ahead, he was sure he could see someone – a small, slight someone with long straight hair falling from under a hat, sitting with their knees tucked up tight to their chest. As he came closer, he could make out the figure of a young girl, maybe sixteen or seventeen, sitting staring out at the waves. Something in her expression – melancholy, troubled – seemed off, and against his better judgement he had changed his path to walk toward her. He took care to tread heavily, knowing that he often made people jump – he might be a soft touch and concerned at seeing someone so young out here by herself in the dark, but he wasn't an idiot. This was still LA, and people here were even more aggressive to strangers than they were back home in New York. To his surprise she didn't turn at the sound of his approach, not even when he had reached the little circle of rocks she sat in and called out.

"Hey…. Umm, are you alright?"

"Of course I am," she answered, her voice sounded weary and sarcastic, "Why are you putting on that weird accent?"

He didn't have an answer for that, gaped for words for a moment before the girl had finally spoken again

"Are you gonna come here or what? I'm cold, sit with me" she'd turned then to look at him, and her smirk had vanished to be replaced with a look of shock, puzzlement, and embarrassment, "Shit… I'm sorry, I thought you were someone else!"

She pushed that long poker-straight hair behind her ears, gave him apologetic little smile. To her relief he only laughed quietly at her, smiled and creeped her out. That smile – wide and sweet with little unexpected dimples, perfect white teeth – on closer inspection, in fact, everything about him creeped her out just a little bit with its familiarity as much as its differences. She started to wonder if she hadn't been confused at all. If he wasn't the stranger she had initially taken him for…

"You're sure you're okay then?" he asked, stepped a couple of paces closer, "Just, you look awful young to be out here alone so late"

"I'm waiting for someone" she said, narrowed her eyes at him suspiciously, "Is this a joke? Seriously, if you're fucking with me, I will be so pissed"

"Me? What? Why would I –"

"I know it's Hallowe'en and all but I didn't expect you to come dressed up" she spat at him. Peter was getting seriously confused at this point, "What are you supposed to be anyway? Some rock star? I can't *believe* you, I give you one more chance to explain things to me and you show up like this, it's like you –"

"Whoah, whoah!" Peter said, held up his palms in innocence, stepped closer, "I have no idea who are you are, OK? And I think you might be confusing me with someone. Stay cool"

"Yeah nice try, Tate" she told him with a sneer, started to get to her feet, "If you wanted to prank me, we do not-live in the same house, freakin' psycho"

Oh no… Peter thought, swallowed the lump that had suddenly risen in his throat, Not this. Not again….

"Violet!" a voice called from not too far away, she swung round in confusion. Peter froze, thought about bolting, found his feet wouldn't obey him, "Vi! Wait! I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to be late"

The approaching boy reached them, put his hands on his hips, breathing hard, looking like he'd just run all the way down from the house on Berro Drive without the benefit of a speed-adapted physiology. His cheeks were a little flushed, hair messier than ever.

"Man I'm so out of shape," he panted, "Who'd have thought I used to run track huh?"

The girl only looked at him, looked back at Peter standing frozen in fear to the spot. Looked between the two again with her mouth hanging open a little stupidly. At last, Tate noticed him, came closer still, frowned at him.

"Don't I know you?" he asked.