First Son, Cursed Son

How are you not normal?

"Go down to the club, that's where we need to set up the tables." Lyla mutters, looking over her bills, on half her attention on Willow.

"Mom, I said I really didn't want my party at the clubhouse." Willow says quietly and Lyla doesn't appear to hear. Willow sighs and goes to find a large sweatshirt to cover her sports bra. She drives to the club, fiddling with the zipper on Piper's ratty old SAMCRO hoodie. She's surprised at the flurry of activity at the club when she arrives. She walks up, admiring their hard work.

"Like it?" Bowen drawls, throwing an arm around her shoulders. She observes the tables.

"I'll be impressed if they're all still standing Sunday morning." She says cynically and he gives her a confused look. "If I recall correctly, you like to smash them using people." She informs him and he waves a hand.

"Remind me why you couldn't have Harley colors like Ken and Pipes." Tig complains, helping Happy string bright blue and purple streamers.

"Still your little girl, Tiggy." Willow says with a wink. He grins and she wanders around, impressed at the amount of work that's been done. Then she enters the bar and sighs. It's fully stocked, almost to the point of bursting. A couple crow eaters are cleaning, chatting. They smile at her and she can't muster up a smile back.

"What's wrong?" Rat asks her and she looks up at him. "I can see it in your eyes. You've got the little frown thing." He gestures to the crease between her eyes and she rubs it, frowning.

"I'm fine. Everything looks great. I'm excited." She tries to reassure him and he rolls his eyes.

"The only thing you're excited for is to be done with school." He tells her. "And it bothers you that your graduation is an excuse for the club to invite everyone down to celebrate." He says and she shifts from foot to foot. "Listen, I didn't know your dad like the rest of the guys here but I knew him well enough to know that he loved you. You represent the fact that this club can do right by him. That we can help the people that got hurt in that damn war..." He trails off and Willow is looking at him curiously.

"What war?" She asks quietly and he looks at her.

"Point is, they're here to celebrate you. Try to remember that. And if you can't, at least smile pretty and pretend to." He tells her and walks off, taking a beer off of the counter. She chews her lip, tucking this new information into the back of her mind for later. She makes sure everything else is done before driving home.

"How'd it look?" Lyla calls when she lets herself into the house.

"Like a couple drunk bikers tried to take a decorating course and instead failed miserably." She calls back and that gets a weak chuckle from her mother. Willow wanders to the back porch, where her mother is relaxing.

"Was it really that bad?" She asks, as Willow sits in a chair and draws her knees to her chest.

"Honestly, no." She admits with a grin. "TM just looks a little odd with girly colors everywhere."

"I can't wait to see." Lyla says happily and they fall into silence, watching as the sun sets.

"Mom, I have a question and you're not going to like it." Willow says, purposely not looking at her mother.

"Are you pregnant?" Lyla demands and Willow stares at her, incredulously.

"No!" She responds hastily and Lyla sits back.

"As a mom I have to ask. Ok, hit me with this terrible question."

"Were you and dad ever happy?" Willow asks and the reaction is exactly as she predicted. Her mother clenches the armrest tightly, her mouth hardening into a flat line. But after a second, she slackens somewhat.