I am so incredibly sorry for such a long delay. One thing led to another and well…

However! I am pleased to report that is story is literally completely written up, over a long expanse of time. Thus: if anyone is actually still reading this, please let me know and I'll continue to post this!

Thank you for your patience!

"Left-"

A loud squeal was the only answer received, echoing harshly throughout the interior of the cab as metal scraped painfully on the concrete speeding under wheel.

"I said go left-"

The force of the illegal U-turn pushed aside the 'back seat driver'; whose face crashed into the passenger side window with a sharp jerk. A red streak was left on the dingy glass, reflecting like a bloody scar on corrupt city rushing by.

Huffing in annoyance, Devil Lab threw a sharp glare at Finch through the plastic of his stoic yellow eyes. Faintly, his fingers touched the now dented prosthetic forehead, noting bitterly that a white smudge bruised the perfection of red paint.

"Yo, Finchie." He rapped the dashboard sharply with his knuckles. "Pull over you psychopath, I think you gave me a concussion."

"Probably knocked some sense into you."

A smirk tugged at Finch's lips, feeling the deadpanned glare hurtling in his direction. Easing his foot off the gas, removing it then completely, the car was left to drift down the center of the crowded street. Despite the pervious whining statement, D.L. began laughing in restrained glee at the kids flinging themselves from the path of the speeding car.

Finch activated the windshield wipers as the abandoned candy began to obscure their vision.

Vaguely, the sound of the passenger window opening was mentally registered, although Finch's attention was sure as hell not on the road or the safety of its pedestrians. Just focusing on something not regarding their destination was beginning to seem like an inconvenience to him. Thus, he reached over to the glove box on the passenger side, digging around the insurance papers and other legal crap towards his automobile for a map.

"So, where is this place again?" He was beginning the tedious process of unfurling the map to find this elusive place D.L suggested; one hand idly tilting the steering wheel. Of course it was shrouded in such mystery that Finch had no choice to follow along much like a horse being led to water, and despite his stubbornness, he knew he would drink the abnormal obscurities dry even without his logical consent.

Flattening the flimsy paper of the dollar store map over the steering wheel, Finch snapped his fingers at Devil Lad to catch his attention. "Actually, where are we even?" The streets passing through the windows were unfamiliar, leaving a bitter taste of stupidity in his mental subconscious.

That alone should have enforced the demand for answers; least enabling Finch some valuable time to construct a plan B should anything go wary. A route home would be the most sensible choice; however, he was so enchanted by the promises of Devil Lad's adventure –ensnared in it, really- that only the brief memory of taking a sharp left at the local garage vaguely flitted through his troubled consciousness.

"D.L?" At the absence of the expected reply, Finch pressed his open palms onto the paper in exasperation. Always the delay with that illusive entity; whether it be the time to arrive at a location or the appropriate length of pause within a conversation, Devil Lad held the atmosphere of being privileged on a mythical level, unbound by mundane values.

If the universe was in debt to him, Finch idled vaguely; the loan must've been apocalyptic. And was there interest? If so, what?

Snatching the vertical edge of the paper between two fingers, Finch pulled the map away from his view of the road. A strange tugging at his gut forced him to pay attention to the behaviour of his driving, the gravitation of being guided by the law when faced with the responsibility of maturity.

Yet, as his gaze floated up to the road, his right sighted perspective was blocked by a red blot and the remains of chocolate treats that escaped the wrath of the windshield. This scarlet obscurity was none other than D.L, bobbing fists full of rescued candy as he whooped at the confused and distressed children that they drove past. Wild alarm stabbed at Finch's mind as it was registered that Devil Lad was, indeed, managing to hold a sitting position on top of the right half of the windshield.

Air forced through his lungs in a strained gasp, "what are you doing!?"

Compelled by an unacknowledged influence, Finch's foot slammed on the flimsy brake pedal. Within seconds, D.L was propelled forward by Finch's uncanny control of gravity, snapping the radio antenna clear off the hood and planting face first onto the concrete below.

An icy chill internally slithered up Finch's body as he starred - completely stunned – at the spot where Devil Lad's body disappeared over the rusted silver hood of his car. As his lungs began to constrict from the lack of air, his body regained consciousness as he immediately shifted the vehicle into park and fell out into the road.

The only movement around the accident was the worried murmurs of the gathered children and their on-looking parents, although that was barely recognized as Finch stumbled around to the front of the car. Hunched over, D.L had the back of his hand pressed tenderly to the side of his mask, posture frozen in the state of shock.

Through his state of panicked concern, Finch felt the odd warmth of self awkwardness as he approached the injured figure in front of him, dropping to his knees as he tried to assess how he would continue with this situation.

"Look at me."

His voice held that startling air of parental authority, the same he used to address Moochie in her hysterical distress over minor accidents when she was just a toddler. Was it an instinct to sound firm, to conceal the panic one's self felt, to keep the injured calm?

Apparently, the method proved its value, for D.L's head hesitantly turned to meet his gaze, head tilted slightly in what Finch was guessing to sooth the pain.

"What hurts?" At this new level, Finch noticed the darker splatter of red across the now tattered hoodie. His resolve to stay calm instantly receded. "Hey! Answer me!"

Letting out a strangled groan, D.L swatted his wrist with a shaky hand.

"…Not so loud."

Relief instantly broke through his panic, but it was ill-fated as Finch heard the raw softness in the reply, void of the familiar hearty sarcasm and overall humour.

He was actually hurt.

A few parents drifted over to the two, finally recognizing that this wasn't the stunt of intoxicated teenagers. One crouched down next to them, discussing the possibility of transporting D.L to the nearby hospital while another tried to coax him into taking off his mask to survey the seriousness of the injury.

As expected, D.L shied away from all of their attempted advances, reaching under the mask to presumably apply pressure to his bleeding nose.

"A tissue." He requested lightly. "I just need a tissue."

Quite a few tissues were presented to the injured youth, some crinkled from already obvious use, portraying delicate floral patterns within the quilts, and those that were made more for decoration in their gaudy plastic portrayal. Ultimately, D.L gratefully accepted the few plain ones offered from a child dressed as a pumpkin, who wisely carried those mini tissue packets on his person.

Promptly, the tissues were expertly manoeuvred under the prosthetic and disappeared from view. When he sharply coughed and breathed in seething, Finch took that as the end of the endeavor and his own tension swiftly deflated. The gathering adults also felt the seriousness of the unfortunate situation ebb away; one puffed themselves up impressively and took the universal lecturing stance.

"You shouldn't be so careless driving!" Their voice carrying around the crowded block, the mother gathered her collection of costumed children behind her as if to shield them from Finch's chaotic influence. "There are kids everywhere tonight!"

It was great restraint that led to Finch not rolling his eyes. While the public scolding was unnecessary after such a physical scare, he was forced to admit that it wasn't completely uncalled for. These were parents he was surrounded by, he executed far from lawful behaviour in front of this hoard of children and now he was to be made an example of.

"Driving that mad on Halloween could get someone killed!" Another one chimed in.

"Was actually hoping on it." From his right it was so quiet, but Finch knew he didn't imagine it. Wrenching himself from the judging glares of numerous, irate parents, he peered at D.L to find yellow plastic eyes starring him head on. His frame was trembling slightly under his red hoodie, with what Finch first assumed was physical strain, until he noticed the hand pressed harshly against the bottom of the mask.

The fucker was laughing.

"You know, just didn't hope it would've been me." He continued nonchalantly, groping behind him to grab the car's hood to haul himself to his feet. Finch followed, torn between irked and relieved. He chose to observe D.L wobble undecidedly; testing each foot to see where his balance actually was instead of blindly guessing. Once it was discovered, he noisily sighed and began to dig around in his front pocket, producing a handful of windshield candy.

"Here kid." Pacing over to the large pumpkin child, D.L dumped some of the candy into his annoyingly similar pumpkin pail. "Bless you child, for not carrying floral printed tissues." As he spoke, he made the sign of the cross on the orange forehead with a large chocolate bar before dropping it in as well.

Since the event of near carnage was obviously at an end, much of the crowd had dispersed back into the festive door ringing of Halloween; leaving much thought out room for Finch's car to leave without any future bloodshed. D.L. was already sinking into the hard passenger seat gratefully, reaching tenderly under his mask. Finch gave one last glance around before joining him in the cab, rolling up both windows with exaggerated effort.

"…Did that by any chance knock some sense into you?"

"You know what? I actually think it did. Here..." Once again he fiddled around in his front pocket, shaking some more windshield candy at Finch. "C'mon, nothing like stolen candy to look past previous idiocy and never speak of it again."

"Does windshield candy have that much political power?" Smirking, Finch guided D.L's hand over to the one empty cup holder, forcing it to release the candy.

"Anything can have enough power if you believe it does." He spoke with such certainty that Finch rolled his eyes. "Like a box of dollar store candy has the power of 'I love you forever let's change our relationship status on line' on junior high Valentine's Day, or a bunch of flowers in that awful shiny plastic wrapping is 'I'm so sorry for taking the neighbour's wife from behind over our family couch and you walked in, can we still be married?'"

Finch quite suddenly felt uneasy. "Had experience in that department of emotional abuse?"

"In which situation? The first or second -"

A sharp knocking on the window startled both of them; Finch was clutching the steering wheel with enough force to crack the cheap plastic cover.

It was pumpkin kid.

"Oh for-" D.L swore, rolling down the window harshly. "What?"

Grinning, the kid waved his closed fist at him until D.L reluctantly gave him his opened palm. Something small was dropped into it, Finch couldn't see from this angle, but from D.L's suddenly stiffened posture it couldn't have been something particularly delicate.

"Dude, what the fuck is-"

"You forgot it last night!" The kid accused with such innocent ferocity that the older was shocked into silence. "Last night, I was told you'd come and get it, but you didn't, I didn't get paid. Mom said I would be, but you didn't. So she said tonight you would, so I would just leave it at home. But, I figured I'd find you on the streets before you got to my house. And I did!" Pumpkin child appeared extremely pleased with his accomplishment; he nodded once and waddled back to a group of children huddled together peering into their bags and pails. Finch rolled up the window.

"What was that about?"

He received only silence from the opposite side of the cab, then eventually an aggravated sigh. "Just take it." Finch opened his hand and took the tiny object from D.L, who promptly curled away from the offensive item and chose to peer out the window.

It was incredibly light, almost weightless, Finch had to force his concentration on it lest he accidently drop and lose it to the filthy abyss of his car's interior. Once white, it was beginning to brown possibly due to prolonged exposure; there was a bit of darkening flesh at the bottom, tiny strings of dried of roots and spongy blood.

Carefully, his fingers held the baby tooth up to the light of the cab. While impressively valued in sentimental memories and the starting loss of childhood innocence, it was visibly worthless to anyone but the child it belonged to.

"Creepy."

D.L gave an exaggerated shudder in response. "Gross, man."

"Do you regularly sneak children's rooms at night and steal their teeth?"

"Only on Tuesdays…" The effort to force humor was evident in his tone, so Finch tossed insulting tooth into his back seat. There were worse things crawling around back there; decaying fast food, mold expanding across the bottom seat fabric, unopened boy band CDs Moochie insisted on giving him.

"Ew?"

"It's not like it will take up a lot of room."

Although Finch continued driving in the same direction, the overall peculiarity of that situation lingered eerily over them. D.L was busying himself with the map, acting like he was doing something to trick his senses into normalcy.

Finch was no stranger to various degrees of gore and inhuman unusualness, rather a fond neighbour or yearly vacationer, and yet his neck prickled warningly as he recounted the event repeatedly. Children were arguably the most horrific forces on the planet Earth, Moochie being the lead alpha example for many consecutive years. The aspect of giving teeth to a stranger though, there was something incredibly off setting about it, especially when it was completely at random like that.

"I knew it." Finch blurted out.

"You must keep your identity a secret because you are really the tooth fairy, and you stalk the streets on Halloween to ensure kids get cavities to receive more teeth for your sickening throne made of teeth and rotten gums."

"Well shit." D.L near giggled. "I'll have to hand in my letter of resignation to Mother Goose after this. You job-ruining dick."