Carnie Love

Seeing the glittering smile on Willow's face made Damon feel warm, but also terrible. It felt like he was giving her a taste of life that he couldn't give her. As long as they went without any money in their pockets, Nikolai had the upper hand. Even if he was cruel, Nikolai never let Willow get sick or go hungry.

He had stepped off to the side and was watching as Willow danced with three teenage boys who had become absolutely smitten with her, and she laughed as they twirled and passed her around. One was only twelve or thirteen years old, and he did his best to keep up without stepping on her feet too much. She caught Damon's gaze and he gave her an amused smile as one of the boys swung her around into a dip.

The song came to a close and Damon finally decided to cut in. The boys weren't exactly ecstatic about it, but they didn't question him about it. They just sheepishly thanked Willow for the dance and shuffled away. The younger one even gestured for her to bend down a bit so he could kiss her on the cheek. She turned pink and giggled as they walked away.

"Should I feel threatened?" Damon asked.

"Well, he was awfully sweet," Willow said jokingly. "He told me all about his collection of perfectly round rocks."

"Fascinating."

"I think I like... taller men," she said.

"How tall?"

"Hmm, how tall are you?"

She laughed when Damon poked her in the sides, then pulled her in to kiss her. She lingered for a bit, but looked sad when she pulled away.

"What's wrong?" Damon asked. "You're not having fun? We can go."

"I'm having the best night I've had in a long time," she told him. "I've waited to have this time with you for years."

"So what's the issue?"

"How long do we have to keep it secret?" she frowned. "Sneaking out of windows is awfully romantic, but it's not exactly sustainable."

"We don't have to keep it secret forever," Damon reassured her. "We just have to find our opening to get out."

"An opening," she repeated softly.

"Hey, don't worry about that right now," he told her. "I'm going to figure it out. I always do."

"You don't have to do it on your own," she pouted.

"Don't worry," he insisted. "How about one more drink, and then we'll call it a night?"

She sighed and nodded, forcing a smile onto her face. Damon handed her some money and kissed her forehead.

"Why don't you go to the bar and order for us, and I'll meet you in a minute?" he said. "I just need to get a little air."

She nodded and bounded towards the bar as Damon stepped outside for a moment. It was stuffy in there, and it didn't help much with the rising anxiety in his chest. As if he wasn't already worried about enough, it seemed more and more was getting stacked on every day. He never let it show, though. Since he was a child, he kept the appearance of a cool and collected person with no worries on his mind. It was an art to keep it buried so deep and hide all the cracks in his soul, but it kept the people around him feeling calmer and safer. Especially Willow.

He stepped back inside and looked for her at the bar, then frowned when he saw she was talking to a mangy looking older man at the bar. His hair and beard were a bit scraggly and his clothes were dirty, but it wasn't unlike most the the other laborers having a night out. It was the slight swaying motion where he stood that concerned Damon a bit. It almost looked like the man was holding himself back from something.

Willow didn't look too pleased by his company, either. She wasn't one to judge on appearance, so he must have said something strange. She glanced up at Damon with a sort of relieved look, and the man followed her gaze to him. When the man saw him, Damon felt his blood turn to ice.

He hadn't seen those wild eyes in fifteen years. Last he saw them, they were staring coldly down at the corpse of Damon's mother, face down in a pool of her own blood.

Damon was moving automatically now, grabbing Willow by the wrist and pulling her through the crowd. He had almost made it to the door when Royce jumped out and blocked his way. Damon was usually an immovable mountain, but he jerked back so suddenly that both he and Willow backed up into a wall.

"Is that the right way to greet your elders, boy?" he sneered. "After I've spent days looking for you?"

"You're mistaken," Damon said.

He kept a tight grip on Willow as he stepped around Royce and out of the pub, but he followed them out into the street. It was late and no one was out, so Damon kept Willow close to him and on the opposite side of Royce. She looked confused, but terrified.

Royce grabbed Damon's arm and he jerked it away, spinning around to glare at him.

"Leave me alone or I send for the night watch," Damon snapped.

"The night watch," Royce scoffed. "You milked my money and my name, and now you turn on me."

"What?!" Damon said in disbelief, voice cracking. "I don't owe anything to you. After what you did to- Fuck, nevermind. Stay the fuck away from me, and stay away from the carnival. If I see you around there, I'll kill you myself."

Royce just watched with a frustrated glare as Damon dragged Willow away, but he didn't follow anymore. Still, Damon had a sick feeling it wasn't the end of it. They finally made it back to the inn and Damon tried to leave, but Willow forced him to stay in her room and sit. He didn't sit so much as slide down the wall and sink to the floor.

"Damon," she said softly. "That wasn't.... was it?"

"That was the man who fathered me, yes," he confirmed.

"So he really broke out of prison?" she squeaked. "And he found you?"

"It would seem so."

She reached out and took Damon's hands in her own, and he noticed then that her wrist was red from where he had been holding her.

"Fuck, did I do that?" he asked. "Willow, I'm so sorry."

"Huh?"

She seemingly hadn't even noticed the redness on her wrist until Damon pointed it out, but waved it away nonchalantly.

"That's not important right now," she said. "You're not well. You look pale."

"I'm okay," he said. "It was a stupid interaction, now it's over."

"It's just that I've never seen you like that before," she said gently. "I've never seen you so... shaken up. I know what he did that night, but you've never really told me what happened."

"The details aren't important."

"They are," she insisted. "Whatever happened, I saw it flash across your face the moment you saw him. I can't help you if I don't know."

Damon was quiet for a while, then sighed.

"You know most of it," he said. "I was ten. It was only about six months before I met you. He worked all the time, so I never saw him. He was always sailing the world, running his import and export business. I knew he got angry sometimes and would hit my mother, but that was the extent of it. I stayed out of their way. I woke up one night to these horrible screams. Wandered out into the hall, and there he was. Knife in hand, stabbing my mother. She was already dead, but he couldn't stop. He just kept going. Then he saw me, and he chased me with the knife. He wanted to stab me too, but I locked myself in a broom closet. They arrested him and my uncle inherited his properties, because they had signed my death certificate along with my mother. They didn't just disown me. They fully killed me off. Michael Reinhearst has a grave and a tombstone and everything."

Willow stared at Damon with concern, then pulled him in to hold him and stroke his hair comfortingly.

"He won't follow us," she said, though she didn't seem too convinced of it herself.

"It worries me," Damon said. "He lost control. He didn't even know he was hurting her most of the time. And just now, I got so overwhelmed that I hurt you-"

"Stop that," Willow scolded, taking his face in her hands. "You barely left a bruise, and it was because you were alarmed. You've never hurt me, and you never will. You are not your father."

Damon still felt awful, but he didn't say anything. He knew it was probably already jarring for Willow to see him in such a position of weakness. He wasn't going to whine and make it worse.