Disclaimer: I do not own Star Trek: The Next Generation. Please do not sue me or steal my story. Thanks! :D

Hi! Happy All Saints' Day! I wanted to put something up for Halloween, but an idea only struck me this afternoon so, instead of waiting a whole 'nother year, I wrote this stray notion out into a quick little story and here it is! I hope you enjoy it! :)

Spooked

By Rowena Zahnrei

Lt. Commander Data returned to his quarters wearing an expression that, on a human's face, could fairly be described as 'crestfallen.'

On Data's android countenance, it rated as 'mildly perturbed.'

"Mew!"

Data's orange cat, Spot, jumped down from the small, gray sofa and rubbed a pleading figure eight around his legs. Obediently, the android strode to his replicator and ordered: "Feline dental treat, salmon flavor."

He bent down, and the cat daintily snatched the whimsically fish-shaped treat from between his fingers before streaking to the far side of the room to enjoy his little snack in private.

Data headed to the sofa, which he unfolded into a bed he efficiently set about making. As he fluffed the pillow, he allowed himself to replay the events of that evening, going over every detail in his mind….

It all began in Ten Forward, just after their shift, when Commander Riker observed that Worf had been looking grimmer than usual all day.

"It is Halloween," the Klingon responded, with palpable distaste.

"So?" Riker said. "What's so bad about Halloween?"

"It is a holiday for children," Worf snarled. "I am not a child."

"But, Alexander is," Counselor Troi broke in. "And he's been looking forward to going Trick-or-Treating with his father all month."

Worf's scowl deepened.

"What you call 'Trick-or-Treating' is nothing more than barely supervised chaos," the security chief grunted. "All those children with their faces hidden behind masks, running wild through the corridors, overindulging on sweets…"

A broad grin spread over Riker's bearded face.

"Yep," he said. "That's Halloween all right."

"Lighten up a little, Worf," Troi coaxed. "After all, you're not acting as Security Chief tonight. Your only responsibility is to help make this holiday a special one for Alexander."

Worf crossed his arms and sank back against his chair, his glare threatening to bore twin holes into the dimly glowing table.

"I will not wear that costume," he rumbled.

Data tilted his head.

"I was under the impression that, when Trick-or-Treating, only the children wore costumes," he said.

"Adults can dress up too, Data," Troi told him. "Although, it is usually only the children who knock on doors and ask for candy."

"That's right," Riker said, and leaned forward, his grin turning slightly wicked.

"Hey, how about this," he suggested, his eyes on Troi. "We're all off duty tonight. Why don't the four of us dress up in costumes and take Alexander around together? You, me, Worf, and Data too. It's been a long time since I did anything special for Halloween."

"I think that's a fine idea," Troi said. "I know Alexander would be delighted. What do you think, Worf?" she asked, giving the Klingon a pointed little prod in the arm.

Worf just grunted.

Riker's grin grew.

"What do you say, Data?" he asked, in a rather theatrical voice. "You up for some ghoulish pranks?"

Data straightened in his chair.

"Certainly, Commander," he said. "Thank you for the invitation. I have always found this holiday to be quite curious. I am, of course, aware of Halloween's historical origins and how it evolved toward its currently practiced format. But, while I believe I can understand the appeal of 'dressing up' as one's favorite fictional or historical characters, I must confess, I find myself unable to comprehend why, on this day, humans attempt to frighten themselves with obviously unrealistic accounts of supernatural monsters and caricatural murderers."

"People love to be scared, Data," Troi said, "as long as it's all in good fun."

"It doesn't matter that we know the monsters are made up," Riker added. "Scary stories seem to touch something deep inside us – something primal. So, when do the kids head out for their tricks and treats?"

"Trick-or-Treating for the children takes place between 1800 to 2000 hours," Worf grunted grimly. "And, my security team is aware some of the crew will be throwing 'Halloween Parties' until at least 0200 hours."

"1800? We don't have much time to get ready, then," Riker said.

"We have plenty of time," Troi told him. "So, let's all go get into costume and meet at Worf's quarters in half an hour. Agreed?"

"Agreed," the men chorused, with varying degrees of enthusiasm.

Data's costume had gone over quite well with the children. Even Worf had admitted that the android's naturally pale features and yellow eyes lent a certain realism to his portrayal of an 'undead' predator on the prowl for human blood.

Alexander had dressed as a Federal Marshal from Earth's Ancient West, with Worf grudgingly trailing behind as his prisoner.

Riker lurched enthusiastically through the corridors in the guise of a zombie, his eyes whited out, his clothing tattered, and his skin a mass of gashes and scars, and Troi brandished the exaggerated weaponry and earthy camouflage of an expert zombie hunter.

The crew and families handing out candy and other treats from their quarters were delighted to see the senior staff taking part in the festivities, and Data was fascinated to hear the eerie music they played, sample cookies shaped like bats and severed fingers, and admire the unique and creative ways they had decorated their homes for the occasion.

By the time the costumed group finally returned to Worf's quarters, Alexander's Jack-o'-Lantern-shaped candy basket was full nearly to overflowing. Worf had ordered the boy straight to bed, but Alexander wanted ghost stories, so the four of them agreed to take turns coming up with the most bone chilling tales they could think of.

Worf adapted an ancient Klingon legend of a dishonored warrior, killed by his mate, whose spirit sought revenge by hunting and slaying young women and children who were foolish enough not to keep up their guard…or their bat'leth skills.

Troi told of the case of a Betazoid psychopath who used her telepathic powers to invade the minds of unsuspecting sleepers, forcing them to live their own worst nightmares until they literally died of fright.

Riker related a story his father used to tell by firelight, of a ghost train that had been haunting the mountains of Alaska since the Klondike Gold Rush of 1896.

And then, it was Data's turn.

"I note that each of you chose a story from your planet of origin," he said, his voice seeming oddly distanced. "I find it extremely interesting that so many different cultures seem to share this same 'belief' in restless and vengeful spirits."

"It's rooted in our DNA, Data," Riker said, taking a sip from his mug of hot apple cider. "That spooky sense that something's out there, watching you in the dark. We needed that sixth sense to keep us alert, back in the days when our ancestors had to constantly be on the lookout for raiders and wild animals."

"I have never experienced such a sensation," Data said, still in that same flat tone. "And since, as an android, I have no DNA, family bloodline, or shared culture of my own, I am afraid I cannot offer a suitably 'spooky' story without drawing from some other source. Would an excerpt from Poe be acceptable?"

Data lay back against his pillow and stared up at the ceiling.

"Computer, turn off all lights," he ordered, and watched the shadows around him grow.

As his quarters faded to solid black, Data experienced no sensation of an encroaching presence swelling to fill the darkness, no unsettling tingle along his strong, ceramic composite spine, no suspicions about what might be lurking, unseen, beneath his bed…

"Alas," he said to himself. "It would seem that, even alone in the dark on Halloween night, I am incapable of being 'spooked.'"

Releasing his breath in what might pass for a resigned sigh, Data closed his eyes and prepared to initiate his dream program.

Until…

A whisper of movement caused Data's eyes to shoot open, and he sat straight up on the bed.

"Hello?" he queried the darkness.

There was no answer. Only silence. A silence that throbbed in his ears to the same, regular rhythm as his pulse.

"Computer – lights!"

"Raaawwaaww!"

Data jumped to his feet as the lights flicked on at full power, forced to blink before his eyes could make the adjustment. He scanned the room, but there was nothing there, nothing out of place…

Except…

His blanket had fallen to the floor when he'd gotten up from the bed. Now, it moved on its own, twitching and wriggling like something alive.

A wave of realization washed over Data, and he lifted the blanket, revealing a very disgruntled—

"Spot!"

Data scooped the ruffled cat up into his arms and stroked his soft, orange fur.

"My apologies, Spot," he said. "It appears that we each 'spooked' the other."

The cat squirmed, and Data let him leap onto the bed, where he kneaded the pillow with his claws and spun a few circles before settling into a tight little ball.

A fond warmth softened Data's golden eyes, and he climbed back into the bed, forcing the cat to shift position to the edge of the mattress as he rested his head back down on the pillow.

"Thank you, my friend," he said quietly, meeting the cat's yellow eyes with his own as he gave Spot's warm fur a gentle stroke. Spot purred softly, and Data closed his eyes, calling to the computer: "Dim lights!"

The End

References include - TNG: A Fistful of Datas; Firstborn; Birthright I; Phantasms.

Reviews welcome! :)