notes: demos, bianca and killian belmont are all (c) maui.

KILLER part 10 (killian's dreams)

He is chasing Demos through a carnival in black and white, through the backsides of all the attractions, the backs of tents where all the cords and wires come snaking out, the unpaited, hideously metal sides of rides. Demos is seven years old, in a perfect little black suit that gleams like a mole's side and he is running terrified, weaving through the tents and ducking low into places Killian can't follow. Killian is calling out, "Demos, it's only me! Slow down!"

Killian sees the eyes of a dust-streaked carnie leering at them from beside his machine. He pulls the lever and the tangle of metal begins to whirl.

Killian follows Demos around a corner and the boy is trapped there, against the hard brick wall of a building, trembling. Killian approaches him with outstretched hands.

"Son, son it's alright. It's only me."

Demos turns his face away, shivers, presses himself against the wall. The crisp snow-white of his undereyes crinkles as he presses them shut.

"why are you aftraid of me?" Killian hears the words from his own mouth. They fall hard against the solid brick, bounce back to him strange and ugly and powerless, not the voice he thought he had.

"why are you afraid of me? It's only me. It's Killian. It's your father."

Killian reaches out and touches the shoulder of Demos' suit jacket, the crisp fabric he sees now is pinstriped. Demos flinches away, whimpers. Killian can see the tears on his face. "Stop it, will you? Stop." He closes his fingers around Demos' tiny shoulder, holds it soft, feels the fabric between their skins and matching blood. Demos' eyes go tighter closed and he whispers, "No."

"what's wrong? why are you afraid of me?" Killian can hear the shrill in his voice. Killian can see his hand in front of him, holding Demos' shoulder, and he watches as the fingers turn to steel and close tight around the small bone like it was a trigger. They do their trigger act. They return to instinct and do what they always do. The other hand comes up, closes around the opposite shoulder, trigger act: tightens. He watches his hands. He listens to Demos cry and hears the words fall out of his mouth and bounce of the walls, "Stop it. Stop it." He watches his strong arms as they start to pump the boy back and forth, shaking him until the tears spray from his eyes and he can feel the tears on his hands, wet cold drops of Demos. He shakes the boy and hears his sobs turn to screams and feels the muscles in his arms harden and flex like lightning and sees smears of red in front of him, between him and Demos or maybe just smears across Demos' pale face, maybe blood or maybe just his rage and confusion exploded into the physical world.

And then he smells a soft warm perfume that makes his heart leap into his throat but he can't make his hands let go and he can't turn his head to see and everything swims red and he hears Bianca's voice saying "How could you do this to me?"

***