Warnings: OOC. As in, we have a talking Sandy and a very sultry Tooth. OCs. AU-specifically 1930s USA and going into WWII. Dub-con. If this is a trigger for you, please be aware! Language. Sexual themes. M/M romance. Violence. Character death! Some tragedy. This is also on AO3.

Pitch Black's Midnight Fright

Come one, come all!

To the circus by the Falls!

We'll make you scream

We'll make you cry

Until your sides split

With laughter!

So come right up,

Don't be shy!

The tickets won't last long!

Before your very eyes you'll see

Your darkest nightmares turned to glee...

Jack's mother had warned him about the Devil.

"You listen to me, Jackson Overland. There are three things you need to know to survive in this world. One is to always keep your head. Two is never lose faith. Three is don't go makin' bets you can't pay up on. If you wanna make a deal with the Devil, you'll never get that soul o' yours back, you hear?"

Jack felt his heart beat in rhythm with the crowd's gasps, a hush falling like a hiss of breath as the Marionettes finished their number, tumbling away behind trailing tongues of streamers and fishnet stockings. The tightrope twanged, and Jack looked down. He almost laughed at the crowd, clustered in their seats, holding each other close in the dark. Every eye was watching, but Jack only cared for the burning gaze of the man far below, bathed in the blue pool of the spotlight. The ringmaster tipped his hat with a bow, a shower of cards spilling onto the floor, sparking. From the smoke rose hideous sneers, faces and teeth and cackles. Someone laughed nervously. A woman shrieked. The ringmaster cut through the smoke and stepped towards the crowd, arms outstretched like the mockery of a savior.

"And now, ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls of all ages, hold your seats, your wife, your children tight. And be amazed," he paused to look up, and Jack met his kohl-rimmed gaze, sharp as glass and just as cutting. Those eyes burned through flesh and bone and soul. Jack trembled on the tightrope. The ringmaster smiled, and Jack felt the blood rush through his veins, spiked with adrenaline. He was on. This was his queue. He looked away from the ringmaster.

"By Pitch Black's Midnight Fright!" The ringmaster twirled his cape with a flourish, disappearing with a pop! and a plume of smoke that parted like a fanged mouth. It rushed toward the crowd with a maniacal laugh. Women screamed, children shrieked, and the circus began. A siren pealed for effect, and dwarves dressed as goblins paraded out from behind a backdrop curtain, armed with pitchforks, torches, and ghoulish faces. A seemingly headless horsemen herded them around the ring, pausing to ride and thread through the seats. A lizard man hissed and blew fire from his mouth in the center ring. All the while the Marionettes sang in voices that chimed like bells:

Welcome to the Nightmare Ring

Where nothing's as it seems

But if you run you'll never see

The monsters from your dreams

The spotlight waved, drifted, glared, and then Jack stood in its glow. The crowd gaped, and Jack thought of his mother.

One is to always keep your head.

Bare footed, Jack leaped, pounced, tumbled over a woman dressed like a harpy. He never lost his footing. She glittered with costume jewelry and and a rainbow feather headdress. She blew Jack a kiss, pretending to chase him across the tightrope. She snapped her fangs and reached for his neck, shrieking about an unfair lover. Prosthetic wings burst from her shoulders, and Jack pretended to swoon with fright, falling over the edge of the rope, where nothing but a hard ground awaited him. The crowd wailed.

It was his favorite part of the act.

Two is never lose faith.

He landed against the hard chest of Pitch Black, and the crowd sighed with relief, laughing when Pitch made a show of leaning over Jack like a mournful lover. He raised his cape to obscure Jack from view, as if to plant a silly kiss to wake the sleeping beauty. The crowd laughed harder, but Jack could hear his heart beat louder. He stiffened in Pitch's hold, pushing against the ringmaster instinctively, waiting for the trap door beneath him to swallow him whole. A cold finger trailed down his chest, tapping against his heart, and Pitch whispered with a sigh, "Don't fight it, Jack," so closely Jack could feel cool breath fan across his face. He didn't open his eyes.

Lips grazed over the corner of his mouth, and Jack's eyes snapped open the minute the trap door released. He fell watching Pitch's eyes, gold and bright as embers until he felt suspended in space. Then the trap door squealed as it shut, Jack landed hard on sacks of flour and winced, rolling off with a cough and a grimace. He waited to hear the crowd scream from the bats that would fly out once Pitch waved his cape to reveal Jack had disappeared.

He coughed again, brushing flour from his dark hair, bumping into an angry little dwarf smoking a cigarette.

"Watch it, dumbass!" the little man shouted, flipping Jack the bird, and suddenly Jack found himself alone in the underground, wading through performers and ghouls and smoke machines with dry ice. He bumped into the Wolf-Man and caught the startled yelp before it could climb from his throat. Wolf-Man rolled his eyes and complained about fright-show wannabes afraid of their own shadows. Sheepish, Jack kept walking. From a crack in the ceiling, Jack watched Pitch in the ring above.

Three is don't go makin' bets you can't pay up to. If you wanna make a deal with the Devil, you won't get that soul o' yours back.

Somehow, Pitch's eyes found Jack through the crack in the floor. Jack swallowed, heart skittering in his chest, and Pitch smiled, honey-slow. The screams of the crowd were muffled underground, but Pitch's eyes were bright with euphoria. His chest heaved with a hungry breath, and Jack knew it was the fear. The ringmaster was alive with it.

Don't fight it, Jack, Pitch had whispered, and Jack could still feel the cold sear of Pitch's fingertips trailing down his skin, the scars of Pitch's kisses on his neck; warm breaths gusting over his ear and dark whispers that sent shivers up his spine until he arched into the ring master's touch.

Truth was, Jack had already made a deal with the Devil, and he had no intention of handing back Jack's soul.