Warnings: Italics (XD), snippets, uh… sadness if you want and other stuff. Undertaker/Ciel moments and a first-time-scene which is also U/C, not explicit. I just couldn't help myself XD A LOT of Undertaker in this one. Mentioned historical events/vague references(know your timeline, I'd say, and more isn't needed at all because I won't go into detail, but I also won't mention most of the dates). The history-lovers among you won't be happy XD I just couldn't work in both this and the character interaction to equal amounts.

Also, depending on your views this may seem macabre in some points. You'll know what I mean when you see it.

A/N: Yeah, this one is rather large. I'm really happy and grateful to those of you who stayed around, for your reviews and alerts/favs. They all mean a lot to me and I'm deeply humbled.

Anyway. The finale. I hope you're ready. Let's take one deep breath together… and now, please enjoy.

Finale

Humans were such fragile creatures. Nature had given them little except for their intellect, almost as an afterthought, but basically humans didn't have anything else. They had no strength, no inherited protection from Nature's fury. They needed food and drink and contact and love. They were so easily broken. They grew old. They died early. They went against each other with the weapons they created.

They couldn't even handle less than a whole soul in their bodies. A soul was meant to stay one, not mutilated; complete, otherwise the consequences would be desastrous.

If a soul was hurt or cut or severely damaged, it usually bled out and shrivelled, erased itself. Injured souls weren't meant to live on. They could never sustain a body.

So, if a damaged soul should survive, the body would – sooner or later – think that it was already dead. The human, still alive, would witness his own body deteriorating.

According to the boy himself, in the last sixty years, Ciel Phantomhive, owner of a maimed soul, had died more than four hundred times. He'd stopped counting a few years ago.

It was a miracle that his body hadn't given up earlier. Or better, it was the contract's doing.

But now not even the contract's power could stop his body from wasting.

Sebastian Michaelis realized this one cold winter morning as he prepared everything for his ward's tea. It was a Monday, December 14th, it was snowing outside, it was dark out there, it was quiet.

It was final.

The demon took the cake out of the oven and put it underneath a closed window to cool.

…

Ciel was calling him.

Sebastian was in his room in no time, halting only for a split second to regard the wasted beauty, the faded glory and nobility, to see the outcome of an otherwise perfect contract, the consequences of having opposed Nature. Ciel would never cease being beautiful, but for anyone else, it was painful to look at him. Sebastian himself couldn't deny that it was a sad sight, but he saw it in a more neutral light, for he'd been past worrying the moment he found out that Ciel was dying.

There was nothing to do against the one force that every creature would have to face. Even immortals sought it out eventually, and some of them even found it. It was omnipresent and… final.

And Ciel was wrapped in its bony arms, securely, mocking comfort, and it was waiting for that one last step to take him away. The boy was sitting upright in his bed, lost among the mass of blankets that could and would never warm him. His skin had taken on a greyish hue, his lips were chapped and blue, his finger- and toenails black. The contract mark in his left eye had dulled to a small, weakly glowing spot surrounding his pupil.

"I can't feel my limbs," he said quietly. If he had noticed Sebastian's formal attire, he didn't bother commenting on it. His breath seemed too precious for many things these days.

Sebastian crossed the room to choose a set of warm clothes for Ciel, ignoring his own and the Undertaker's pullovers. Dressing the boy was a little bit difficult, and Ciel watched him with interest until he finished. "The ring," he finally said.

Sebastian found the sapphire ring on the nightstand and slid it on the boy's thumb. "Where did you get it from?"

"The Undertaker found it," Ciel said. "It looks almost like the original."

"It is the original."

Ciel opened his mouth, but no words came out at first. Then: "Are we going to visit the mansion today?"

Sebastian couldn't say that he was happy about the change in subject. "If that is what you wish."

"It is."

Sebastian nodded. "Then we shall."

The boy looked at his hand until his fingers agonisingly slow curled into a fist. "The feeling is coming back."

"Will you be able to come down soon?" Sebastian asked.

"In an hour, maybe."

Without further ado, Sebastian scooped him into his arms and carried him downstairs.

Breakfast was a quiet affair. Sebastian couldn't help but let his gaze wander over the pale boy, surprised at how strong a dying body could be opposed to a demon's contract. It was almost absurd, but yet again, the contract must have been damaged by those numerous deaths.

Ciel's strength returned bit by bit, and an hour later, he wanted to go.

It was still dark outside and still early, so Sebastian took the keys while Ciel donned his coat and boots. When they were outside, the demon carried him again, rushing through the relatively quiet streets of London. Ciel buried his face in the crook of Sebastian's clothed neck as the demon ran faster, avoiding busier streets.

The Phantomhive Mansion looked the same. As Sebastian jumped over the gate and jogged up the driveway, he was flooded with memories of a smiling gardener, a clumsy maid and a courageous cook. Such an incompetent staff they'd been, and Tanaka had been more useless than not, but they had left and impression with the demon, and a rather fond one at that. He wondered how their lives had progressed, when they'd died, whether they'd started a family.

The main entrance opened with nothing more but a look, heavy doors sliding open to let the demon and his former master enter. Sebastian set Ciel down in the entrance hall, moving back to close the doors by hand. "Welcome back to the Phantomhive estate."

Ciel took in the sight he was offered. "It's been renovated."

"Undoubtedly."

With a short look over his shoulder, Ciel headed for the stairs. Followed by his former butler, he looked at every single room. Sometimes, he commented on the furniture that used to stand in certain rooms, on paintings that had hung in certain places, but most of the time, he just looked and took in and – without doubt – took his time to remember.

To Sebastian, this seemed like a farewell. It made sense that the boy was doing this. There was almost no time left. Sebastian would have to kill him very soon, indeed.

They entered Ciel's former bedroom. The boy pushed aside the curtains and opened the window, looked outside –

And froze.

"Hey, there he is! Phantomhiiiiive!"

Sebastian frowned and came to stand next to the boy. There was an obnoxious red spot in the garden, waving and for the entire world to hear. It was a good thing that it was so early, after all. Next to Grell stood the Undertaker, bangs out of his face, death scythe in his hand, smiling.

"Grell, Undertaker." Sebastian nodded at them, and they returned the greeting. "May I inquire why you are here today?"

"You may, hot stuff," Grell sang and pulled out his black book. He flipped it open, cleared his throat and read: "Ciel Phantomhive, male, dies at the 14th of December at 7.50 a.m. from the conclusion of his contract."

Ciel was very, very silent.

"So you knew this was going to happen?" Sebastian asked him quietly. He remembered the short conversation with William. The reaper must have told him.

"Yes," Ciel replied. "I didn't think telling you would make any difference since you already knew that I was deteriorating."

"Why, thank you." Sebastian took a deep breath and started pacing back and forth. He was inexplicably angry about not having been told such a thing. While he had wanted to put an end to this eventually, this was not how it should go.

Ciel returned his attention to the reapers in the garden. "It's not even half past seven. Why are you here this early?"

"Even though it runs quickly, I'm sure that your Cinematic Record will take up a bit of time."

And now, Sebastian could strangle Grell.

"My record?" Ciel repeated. "You won't get to see it. It's Sebastian who's going to take my soul."

"No, no, no, it's us!" Grell said. "Sebby and I had a deal, you see…"

The demon had stopped pacing and now fell victim to Ciel's glare. "I understand," the boy said to Grell.

The Undertaker muttered something along the lines of 'Smells like trouble'.

"Please wait while I exchange a few words with the demon."

And Grell muttered something that sounded like 'I think I shouldn't have said that'. Raising his voice, he could be heard much clearer by the demon. "Don't take too long. Just tell us whether we should come in or –"

"Stay outside, I don't want you in my house."

"Listen, kiddo, it's not your house anymore –"

Ciel closed the window, closed the curtains and turned to fix Sebastian with anger written all over his face. The demon would have been able to handle that emotion if it only weren't for the hurt that was also evident on the former earl's face. "A deal? You lied to me, Sebastian."

"Please keep in mind that I lied before we altered the contract," Sebastian said.

"This is not what I want to hear!" Ciel looked as if he wanted to pace, but his body seemed slack and tired. Perhaps he felt like it, too, for he leaned against the wall between two windows and held his head. "What was this deal about?"

Sebastian swallowed. "Information, mostly, in exchange for your soul and my departure."

"Mostly, you say," Ciel muttered. "What did Grell do?"

"He was very insistent on getting your soul, for I never promised it to him at the beginning. But he managed to get the Undertaker out of the way, so…"

"So you had no problems getting to me from there on." Ciel crossed his arms in front of his chest. "You had an alliance with them. You promised them my soul."

Sebastian stood stiffly and tried to fully assess the situation. "I promised them something that belongs to me. It's never been yours. Not once in the last hundred thirty years."

"That's not the point!" Ciel ran a hand through his hair and huffed. "But I don't want to lecture the unfeeling about betrayal again."

A very effective blow. Sebastian found himself hit and guilty. "I'm sorry that you had to hear about the deal."

"What?" Ciel's head snapped up, eyes narrowed and glinting. "You feel bad about all the wrong things, you disgusting creature."

Sebastian felt a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. He slowly strode towards Ciel, the boy's sceptic eyes on him the whole time, and cupped his cheek. "I wouldn't have come any closer to you had Grell not had the idea of luring the Undertaker away. There would have been fights and deaths, don't you think? I would have wanted what is mine."

Ciel slapped his hand away. "Don't act as if you did something good by making deals behind my back, by barging into my life, by manipulating me. This has all just been a game to you, after all."

There was a slight pause. "Not anymore," Sebastian finally said. He carefully leaned down, placing a short kiss on Ciel's lips. It seemed to placate the other male greatly.

"Well," the boy said, "I'm not going to forgive you. But…" He cocked an eyebrow. "It's almost sad that I can't rub it under your nose long enough."

Sebastian couldn't help but chuckle. "I'll make sure to think of it often."

"Do that," Ciel said haughtily.

And then he scowled and tentatively wrapped his arms around the demon's middle and buried his face in his chest. Sebastian couldn't help but acknowledge this. Ciel was admitting to his fear it seemed. And it was alright, because there was nobody he had to be strong for. "I'll make sure that your soul is destroyed," Sebastian said quietly. "You will cease to exist. Nothingness doesn't equal loneliness."

Ciel looked at him. "How did you -?"

Sebastian pressed a finger to his lips. "I'm simply one hell of a guardian." The truth was that once, he'd had a contractor who'd tried to kill herself to get away from him. After the contract had revived her, she'd talked to him about it. He'd taken her whole soul shortly afterwards.

"We should go," Ciel muttered against his chest and let go.

The demon nodded slowly, carefully, feeling that he'd disrupt a strange order if he moved incorrectly. He went to the window and opened it so that he could jump into the garden with the boy, but Ciel still stood where he'd left him, eyeing him strangely. "Sebastian," he finally said and then stopped. He took a deep breath and cleared his throat. "I acknowledge your ownership of me."

The demon was in front of him in less than a second, bent down and kissed him. "I'd hate to give up what just realized it's mine."

Ciel smacked him. "It's not as if you have a choice." He walked past him, through the door, obviously choosing the long way. Sebastian went to close the window again. He didn't mind at all. As he caught up with the boy, he noticed the change: The posture was perfect, Ciel wasn't trying to warm himself anymore. It seemed as if he detested the mere idea of showing any further weakness. He didn't glance at the doors hiding familiar rooms, but walked with an air around him that reminded Sebastian of the old days: The young Earl and his butler on their way to an important meeting. Ciel's eyes were dark, but his chin raised, his steps measured and practiced.

When they finally arrived in the gardens – Ciel had taken a long way around the Mansion for the last time, even though he hadn't looked at it - the Undertaker was sitting cross-legged in the frozen grass, enduring Grell's talk with practised ease. "Finally," the redheaded reaper said when he spotted them. "We're running out of time."

Ciel sneered at him but went to him as he grabbed his chainsaw. Instead of standing still and waiting for the blow, Ciel gracefully sat down next to the Undertaker. The reaper looked at him in mild surprise but then grinned at Grell. "I'd like to say my goodbyes, too."

The redhead scoffed. "Fine." He turned to Sebastian. "Then let's have some quality time together."

"I rather stay here," Sebastian said monotonously.

Ciel was already speaking with the Undertaker. They were talking in very low tones and Sebastian gave them the privilege of actively not listening to what was said. The Undertaker held his hands closed around Ciel's as if warming them and Ciel was just looking into his eyes with an unreadable expression. For a very short moment the Undertaker's smile slipped but it recovered its strength as they shared their final words. They embraced each other before the Undertaker grabbed his death scythe and got up. "You may return."

Ciel remained seated as Sebastian came to stand behind him.

"Alright then," Grell said. "I hope we can start now?" He experimentally swung his death scythe. "You've been an annoying kid, but I'm sure I'll love your memories."

"At least you're being honest," Ciel said dryly while the Undertaker chuckled. "Well then, do it."

Hearing the roar of the scythe coming to life, Sebastian held up his hand. He didn't even want to think of what Ciel would look like after that treatment. "Grell, you may not be the one to reveal the Cinematic Record." He nodded towards the Undertaker who frowned at him.

"What? Why not?" Grell pouted. "What can he do that I can't?"

"A clean job," Sebastian muttered under his breath. Raising his voice, he said, "He deserves it."

"I don't want to be his death." For the first time, Sebastian saw the Undertaker showing reluctance. It was the strangest thing he'd laid his eyes on since a long time. Somebody like the Undertaker should not show that emotion.

"I'm his death," he said. "You are only going to reveal the record."

The Undertaker didn't look at him but at Ciel, as if asking for permission. "Somebody has to do it," Ciel said and the reaper sighed. Grell scoffed in the background, dropping his death scythe as if he were an angry child.

Ciel turned to him, his eyes asking a question to which Sebastian responded without thinking. The demon sat down next to Ciel, noticing how the Undertaker was holding his scythe horizontally now. "Make sure to damage the soul," he said.

"Come again?" The Undertaker seemed taken aback. "You know that you could have the soul after we're done."

"I can't take it," Sebastian said after a short pause. "It would taste stale, anyway. That scrap is not worth the effort."

Ciel stared at him.

The Undertaker laughed and Grell said something about wanting to know Ciel's trick.

Sebastian kissed the boy's temple and quietly apologized. Ciel shook his head carefully. All of a sudden, the strength was gone, washed away, leaving behind a neutral boy who was slightly shaking from the cold but maintained his posture. He seemed so tired and fragile. "What are you going to do now?"

"First, I'm going to end the contract and release your soul. You will be dying the moment the contract is concluded, but you won't be dead until your Cinematic Record has run."

"Ready when you are," the Undertaker said, his smile strained.

Ciel's gaze drifted over the garden and the house to his right. He took a deep breath and turned to Sebastian. He raised his chin, almost sneering at the red eyes of his death. "I'm ready."

The demon gave him one last smile before he pressed his lips against Ciel's, ending the contract and releasing the soul. There was a low gasp as the material and immaterial were separated, but it didn't seem as painful as it usually was for the demon's victims. The small body sagged against him immediately, and Sebastian moved so that Ciel's head was resting on his lap.

The Undertaker positioned his razor sharp scythe right above the space between two ribs on Ciel's left side. "Goodbye," he muttered and pressed the metal into the flesh, surely piercing the heart.

Sebastian almost averted his gaze.

When the Undertaker pulled back, the Cinematic Record burst out of Ciel's chest, racing towards the sky. Grell, pacified by the sight, squealed in delight and came closer.

Ciel's earliest memories were still intact. Sebastian saw a replay of their first meeting, feeling a rather uncomfortable pang in his chest at the sight of frail limbs and a bleeding right eye.

And then there were all those other memories…

He absorbed them all as quickly as possible, for the record was running towards the sky, reaching for the clouds.

There was a memory from his time as a butler that caught his attention.

Ciel, dressed in his nightshirt, crawled out of bed. It wasn't possible to tell whether it was night or day, for the curtains didn't let any stray light pass. Ciel, the Ciel that had kept a spark of innocence despite everything he'd seen, walked towards the heavy curtains with naked feet and drew them aside to look at grey clouds and fog.

There was something strange in the scene, in the way Ciel held himself, in the way he looked at the dull weather. The boy stretched his hands out in front of him, flexing them experimentally in the dim light. He hummed in thought before he went over to his nightstand, sliding the sapphire ring onto his thumb.

There was a soft knock before the butler opened the door and entered the room with a tray. He paused at the sight of the drawn curtains. "Good morning, young master." He smiled at the young Earl standing next to the window, fingers stroking the ring on his thumb. "You're already awake. That's new."

While the butler fetched his master's clothes, the boy went to sit on the edge of the bed, looking out of the window. The swirls of fog remained impenetrable. "What a dull day."

"I agree, young master." The butler knelt down in front of the child, unbuttoning his nightshirt.

Ciel hesitated for a moment before he lifted his hand to the demon's cheek. The butler looked up at him but upon receiving no explanation, he continued dressing the young master.

"So, today is the day," the boy said.

The demon halted in his movements, a smirk adorning his features. "Is that the reason you were awake already?"

A soft snort. The boy waited until his eye patch was in place. "Of course not. Don't be silly. I only wanted a last moment of peace."

The next memory started in darkness.

Complete and utter darkness, accompanied by Ciel's panicked screams as he realized that he was in a coffin and six feet under. There was banging, loud banging against the coffin's lid, he was frantically pulling the chord that would ring the grave bell. He was alive, alive, and he didn't, couldn't understand.

Sometime later, when his throat was hoarse from all the screaming, he felt the casket being lifted, then set to the ground. He immediately lifted the lid to come face to face with the Undertaker grinning at him.

The mortician hadn't invited him to stay. Ciel had only been given the most important information: His soul had been reduced to a scrap, Sebastian was gone, the Undertaker had patched him together, and no, he couldn't possibly tell whether the demon had done it on purpose.

At his question ("What else do you know?"), the former reaper had snickered and answered, "Nothing, nothing at all" while his tone had implied 'everything else'.

Ciel hadn't been asked to stay, yet he returned to the man's shop when the sun set. It was the only safe place he knew and he'd spent the whole day thinking of his future. It was clear that his ultimate death held and indefinite date and place. It could be tomorrow or next year, as the Undertaker had put it. Until then, Ciel somehow needed to… ha, live on.

He was angry and confused and felt so, so betrayed.

(And alone.)

The Undertaker provided and promised protection, only for the right price. So Ciel stepped over a coffin laying in the middle of the room, a small boy in tattered clothing that another body had worn (because he couldn't run around London in expensive clothing anymore). The Undertaker grinned at him from his counter. "Little Ciel, I didn't expect you to return… Would you fancy some cake?"

The boy's stomach growled. "Later maybe. I came here to talk. To make a deal."

Green eyes beneath silver bangs caught the dim light in the room as the Undertaker cocked his head to the side. "A deal, you say? Go on, please, I'm curious."

Ciel gave a dry, emotionless smile. "Are you a lonely man, Undertaker?" he asked, leaning against the counter.

The grin on the other male's lips faltered slightly as he didn't answer.

"I certainly will be," Ciel continued. "You said I was going to be trapped in this body, so I'll be in need of protection, of appropriate company, and why shouldn't it be you, the one who has provided the Phantomhive family information for a long time?"

The Undertaker still looked at him, saying nothing.

"If you agree to this arrangement, I will provide you entertainment and company. You are lonely, I am lonely, so why not stay together?"

"You seem very sure that I'm going to agree," the Undertaker finally said.

"And you are the one who patched together my leftover soul." Ciel smiled. "I would like to include a few journeys all over the world, though. I'm growing sick of London."

"The bodies brought to my shop certainly entertain me enough and provide company."

"They don't." Ciel glanced down at the Undertaker's fingers: long and spindly, yet fascinating. "It's why you saved me. I owe you my future. And I'd like to see China one day."

There was a very, very long pause in which the mortician's fingers tapped against the wooden surface. Ciel swallowed, wondering what he could add; he didn't have anything else to give but himself. He knew that was what the Undertaker secretly wanted: Someone to stay with.

The hand dropped from the edge of the table as the Undertaker went into another room. "About that cake: Do you want a piece while I ready the bedroom for you? It's nothing flashy, but the mattress is comfortable and the covers don't have any holes. I guess it's better than some of the things they sell in this area."

Lizzie's grave was loaded with white lilies and roses, with ribbons and hearts angels, the masses of decoration almost hiding the inscription on the headstone.

Ciel placed a single pink rose on top of the white lilies.

"I'm sorry," he muttered.

The Undertaker had been right about him not ageing physically.

He'd been stopped in the first years of puberty, which didn't necessarily mean that he'd be stuck there forever. Somehow, puberty had a way of getting to him, minus the physical changes, but definitely plus the hormone cocktail swishing through his body. Puberty without any phsical change whatsoever frightened him. It only proved that the contract was preserving his body the way it had been after most of his soul had been taken away. Ciel was very aware of his body's willingness to change and the contract repressing natural developments.

Nevertheless, puberty affected him. It was awkward and it was weird and he kept it in for years until he woke up in the middle of the night on a ship to America and thought 'Bugger it to hell, I'm going to do something against this.'

And who was more convenient than the Undertaker himself? Ciel didn't know whether the reaper had a preference for men or a sex drive for that matter, but then again, after that month of abuse during his childhood, Ciel would never have thought that he could have one, either.

The Undertaker put down his book on some disease Ciel didn't even want to know about when the boy walked into his cabin. He giggled at the tiny blush on Ciel's cheeks; it didn't take him long to understand what was going on here. "You should think about it again," he said. "Maybe you're better off with a woman."

"Women don't interest me," Ciel said and that was that. "It's not as if I can choose, anyway."

The Undertaker laughed tears as he beckoned him to come closer, closer and closer yet, until Ciel was standing beside the bed, waiting for further instructions, nervously gripping his pure white nightshirt. The former reaper grabbed him by the waist and hoisted him onto the bed so that the boy was lying on his back, quickly pushing the thin legs apart to settle comfortably.

Clothes were shed, skin was touched, lips were kissed and pants and mewls filled the room. At one point, Ciel, flushed and looking a little embarrassed/surprised at his body's reactions, bit into the knuckles of his hand, trying to prevent his moans from tumbling over his swollen lips. The Undertaker, hovering above him, stilled in his movements and gave a low chuckle. Then he carefully freed Ciel's hand and pinned the boy's wrists above his head. "It's okay," he said before he started moving again, before he covered the boy's mouth with his own to swallow all the moans that Ciel released.

Completely enraged, Sebastian used his powers to extend his arm, claws running across the Undertaker's scarred cheek. The man was caught off-guard, his head whipped to the side and his body collided with Grell's who had fortunately been engrossed in another memory. Grell stumbled to the side, but didn't lose his balance, merely looked extremely annoyed.

"What the hell is wrong with you people?" he screeched. "Can't you let a lady watch what she worked hard for?"

The Undertaker stepped away from him and lay down on the ground with his death scythe in one hand, faintly giggling. Sebastian wondered whether he was just doing it to reassure the dying boy. His anger diminished instantly. Sighing, he pressed Ciel's body against his, feeling the life leaving while Grell gushed over another memory.

The Undertaker didn't get up, staring into the sky with the occasional giggle running through his body.

The cinematic record created a spiral of unending recollections.

"A war," Ciel said, curling his lips in distaste as he felt a dreading pang in his stomach. "I can't say that I'm surprised."

Marseille, 1914. They were sitting in a modest living-room, their house only ten miles away from the sea. The Undertaker watched Ciel reading the paper. "The French and German reapers will have a lot of work to do."

Ciel lowered the paper to see the little smirk twitching around the other's mouth. "That's all you have to say?" he asked incredulously.

The reaper shrugged. "It's a war, what can I say?"

Ciel pursed his lips. "I'm in the wrong country. We should return to England."

"And do what?" the Undertaker asked, scepticism lacing his words. "Run onto the battlefield? Have discussions with the King or the German Emperor? You aren't who you once were. Your name died with your disappearance." Something akin to a glare was thrown towards the newspaper. "Shouldn't have bought that." He got up, grabbed the paper and casually threw it into the farthest corner of the room. "Wars happen. And you can't do anything against them."

Ciel looked at the any sheets of paper fluttering to the floor and sighed.

The war ended and Ciel – mad at his inability in the whole matter - was all too eager to leave Europe. The Undertaker followed without further comment. Together they went on a ship to New York. The amount of money they had had been decreasing steadily and Ciel, used to greater numbers, found it incredibly hard to live on a budget that was ten times smaller than his previous one.

Suffice to say that severe problems with the ship's system occurred, almost leading the ship past America. The motor nearly died by the time the mistake was realized and the ship was running low on fuel.

The Undertaker had a field day.

When Ciel's fiftieth birthday came around, they were in Florida, watching a sunrise. The Undertaker claimed he couldn't sing, so he hummed a birthday tune under his breath while Ciel's head tiredly rested on his shoulder, his expression showing faint annoyance. The Undertaker had kept him awake the whole night, being his very annoying self and always making noise whenever Ciel had wanted to close his eyes.

They bought cake which was more expensive than necessary because the reaper didn't feel like baking. He did feel like finding fifty small candles to stick into said cake, though. Ciel was forced to blow out all those candles. Of course, his lungs couldn't take in enough air, but the Undertaker, sitting next to him in the kitchen of their ratty apartment, found it utterly hilarious.

In the sixties, the crusade ship really sunk.

Ciel really wondered how ships had the tendency to do that when the Undertaker was on board.

"Next time," Ciel said dryly, looking up into the sky and frowning, "we go by plane. No more ships for you."

The two of them were sitting on a life raft, one of them giggling madly, the other one clearly annoyed, watching the grand ship disappear in the sea. Thankfully they weren't far away from the British coast.

"Ronnie, is that my handsome mortician? Is it? It's him, right? Dammit, I need new glasses. Can't see that well anymore. I think I'm getting ol—oh, hell no."

So, Grell was the first reaper to spot them among the other passengers. In their little rescue boat, they paddled closer to the pair, Grell letting Ronald do all the work because he had to tend to his nails, fix his clothes, and his hair, check his make-up, practise his smile while checking his make-up, push his glasses to their right position and blow kisses towards a very amused Undertaker.

"Oh, Gods, Ronnie it's him."

"Yeah," Ronald said, "I can see that."

"And that kid – wait." Much to the other passengers' dismay, Grell got onto the life raft to have a very good look at Ciel who tried to hide in the large coat that the Undertaker had given him to keep warm. "Ciel Phantomhive?"

At that name, the boy's mouth twitched. "Not anymore."

"Where's Sebastian?"

Leave it to Grell to have no tact at all. Ciel didn't say anything and when the reaper noticed that he'd said something wrong, he rolled his eyes and tried to flirt with the Undertaker.

Ronald, looking like a lost puppy with paddles in its paws, stayed in the other life raft. Some passengers, scared away by Grell, changed boats. Ciel looked at him, then demonstratively at Grell and rolled his eyes.

Ronald grinned in agreement and bowed a little. "Welcome back to Great Britain, your Highness."

He paddled the other people to the arriving ship.

If Ciel had expected to find something remotely familiar in returning to London, he was disappointed. Skirts and buildings were high, the streets were uncomfortably full. "What went wrong here?" he asked, scandalized, because he'd hoped that the changes he'd witnessed In America hadn't occurred here in his precious, precious London.

They had. And how. Ciel felt like an ancient foreigner, still a firm believer in the power of nobility, frowning at the colonies that were becoming independent, and listening to Beethoven and Bach and Chopin and preferring their works over the incessant noise that was called music these days: Some boys with guitars and basses and drums squawking into microphones.

He looked at London and finally realized that maybe, maybe he had to change his views a little.

But his opinion of music would stand firm.

The Undertaker giggled, ogled a woman's thighs, scared a few children and quickly learned the latest Beatles song by heart.

Ciel lost his ring in London.

He looked for it the whole night, the next morning, he got angry very quickly and fell silent in the next moment. He searched it for three days when a tidy, rich-looking and good-smelling man grabbed him, pulled him away, scarred his body and let him bleed out like an animal for slaughter.

So, Ciel died in London.

He woke up in a coffin again, screaming from the sudden pain that went through his body, from that torture that the contract inflicted on his eye. The Undertaker was there right away, with a cookie in his mouth. He cocked his head to the side at the sight of the screaming boy and then grabbed the flailing fists with one hand.

"Calm down, Sleeping Beauty. That's definitely not a fairy tale awakening."

Panting, Ciel looked around, his gaze always falling on the Undertaker. "I'm alive?"

"Quite."

"But I died."

"That you did."

Ciel blinked. "So why -?"

The Undertaker cackled. "The contract, remember?"

Ciel was silent for a very long moment. "I think I'm going to be sick."

The Undertaker lifted him out of the coffin and quickly brought him to the bathroom. Ciel vomited until tears sprang into his eyes, until there was nothing left in his stomach. He tried to get up but his knees gave away underneath him. "Why would he do this to me?"

"Why not?" the Undertaker replied. "He's a demon. And that soul is still his."

Ciel sighed and shakily went to the basin to rinse out his mouth.

"You can't die?" William asked, pushing his glasses up his nose. He looked as strict and regal as always. Grell tried to hug his arm but he pushed the redhead away.

"I can't," Ciel confirmed.

"Do you want to?"

Ciel shrugged. "I don't mind."

"Aw, he's weary of life." Grell tilted his head to the side, clicking his tongue. "You need somebody to love you and everything's going to be all right." A short moment of consideration. "Just don't choose my dear mortician."

The Undertaker – wearing hairpins – just scratched the back of his head, grinned and said nothing.

Ciel rolled his eyes. "I never said that I'm weary of life. I said I don't mind death."

"You couldn't even die by a death scythe?" William asked, ignoring the other reaper.

The boy could see where this was going. "Why don't we find it out?"

"That's against the rules," Grell said in mocked shock. "Why would you do this?"

William shot him a sidelong glance. "Maybe you're just such a bad influence, Mr Sutcliff."

Grell frowned. "I thought we'd reached the first name basis a few decades ago."

William ignored him and took out his death scythe. "If it works, it will be paperwork over a boy who should have been dead anyway. I'm not breaking any rules since there never has been one for this."

Ciel waited.

"Well," the Undertaker said, watching the other reaper, then the boy, "I think that's weariness of life."

It wasn't. Ciel simply refused to be played like that.

However, it didn't work and when he woke up, he found out that he'd never expected this to work.

The Undertaker sat next to him when he woke up, chewing on a biscuit. "Your mansion is still standing" he said, "and your staff's graves are in a nearby cemetery. Might want to exchange a few words with them."

Ciel just stared at him for a long time before turning around and falling asleep.

"You know," Ciel said one day, about twenty years later and in Spain, completely out of the blue and realizing it at the very same moment, "his absence is noticeable."

"I wouldn't know about it," the Undertaker said. He looked unnervingly amused and very unsurprised at Ciel's words. They hadn't talked about Sebastian in the last six decades. "How come?"

The boy, sitting on the edge of the bed, pointed at his nightshirt. He watched the Undertaker crawl into his bed like a fat, lazy cat and pull the blankets around his body. In contrast to Ciel whose knees and back were scraped from being on the floor in different positions for hours, he looked perfectly fine, not at all out of breath, no signs of a flush in his face, even his damned hair looked the same as before. "He always buttoned my shirts, you know."

The mortician laughed at this. "That's what I call spoilt."

Ciel rolled his eyes. "Not anymore."

The reaper wriggled his toes underneath the blanket, his upper body sinking further into the mass of pillows. "So, tell me… Are you attracted to him?"

Ciel frowned. "What? No."

"Then you renamed me."

The former Earl buttoned up his nightshirt. "I didn't."

"Help me with this one," the Undertaker said, grinning and chuckling, "does this mean I'm as good in bed as a demon? Flattery brings you nowhere, you should know that."

Ciel's eye twitched when the Undertaker started laughing at his expense. "I don't know what you are talking about."

"Let me help you," he said, shoulders shaking. He raised his voice to a falsetto and dramatically moaned "Sebastian!"

Ciel's mouth fell open, his face felt very hot. "I never said that."

"Correct. You screamed it." Bony fingers pinched Ciel's red cheek. "Now tell me, are you sleeping here or in your room? I'm tired. You know how it is: Being a demon in bed is exhausting."

Twenty-first century, Tokyo International Airport. Ciel frowned at girls and women in shorts and skirts or dresses that ended above their knees while the Undertaker scared little children from all over the world by simply being there.

Ciel pointed into the direction they had to go. "Stop looking around, we've got a plane to catch."

The Undertaker snorted and came over. Even though he had stopped wearing his large robes and coats as well as his weird hat, Ciel could understand how even in more fitting clothes he could be scary to little children.

The mortician had been acting strange all day, choosing to be quiet when he usually spoke, following Ciel like a puppy for most of the time and giving him that one weird look that didn't speak of amusement at all.

"So," the boy said in the plane, clearing his throat and choosing not to think of it, "off to London."

The Undertaker, sitting next to him and staring out of the window, said nothing.

Ciel looked at him for a while, noticed that he wouldn't turn his head and laid his hand on the other man's upper arm with a sigh. "I have the feeling you want to break up with me."

A chuckle. "We were never together."

"You are going to stay with me, right?"

The Undertaker looked at him, smiling ruefully. "Till the end."

After the picture of the vast sky and clouds, ripples cracked the following memories.

Ciel's soul was bleeding out.

Sebastian watched as the pictures became increasingly unfocused, unclear, distorted, showing the last two years in two minutes.

This was it.

The sound of Grell's chainsaw ripped Sebastian out of Ciel's memories. With a satisfied smile on his lips, the reaper cut the cinematic record right below the blurred picture of the Undertaker swinging his death scythe.

Ciel closed his eyes.

And then...

there was silence.

After a long minute of hesitation, Sebastian carefully laid the body on the floor and got up, straightened and watched the sky. He felt the Undertaker and Grell's gazes on him but didn't return them.

"I damaged his soul enough to wither into nothingness," the Undertaker finally said. "It's so small it should be destroyed by now."

Sebastian swallowed, nodded. "That's good to know."

Grell, absolutely unfazed, shouldered his death scythe. "If anybody asks, I'll tell them you ate it. Was nice making business with you, Sebby, and nice seeing you, mortician." He grinned at the Undertaker who managed a smile. "Sebby, I hope you're gone by tomorrow. Don't forget the deal."

Sebastian nodded again. Grell waved and left with a skip in his steps.

After a long moment of contemplation, the demon walked up to the silver-haired reaper still lying in the grass. The Undertaker sensed his presence, his body tensing, his eyes sharp and aware, waiting for a blow that never came. Sebastian slowly sat down next to him and regarded the peaceful expression of the last Phantomhive. "It was the best thing to do," he said.

The reaper watched him with a curiously emotionless expression. "Are you trying to reassure yourself? It was the only thing to do."

Sebastian didn't care for a reaper's lecture but he acknowledged that both of them had seen the best solution in death.

Two supernatural creatures had been unable to find another solution. This was perhaps even sadder than Ciel's actual death.

"Such an interesting boy," the Undertaker muttered, still holding his death scythe as if he was waiting for the demon's attack. There was a large red smear on the tip of the scythe, and Sebastian found himself entranced by it.

"Such a special boy," the reaper continued, a light giggle bubbling in his chest, "to create affection in a creature that has forgotten how to love."

At this, Sebastian almost – almost – punched the other male. In the end, he didn't, his reasoning being that Ciel wouldn't have wanted that, especially not in the presence of his corpse. "That's not true," he said instead.

"So you're telling me that you did know how to love before this? What a surprise."

"I have never harboured any kind of affection for Ciel. He was my young master, then he was my pet and now he is a memory." Sebastian didn't look at the Undertaker when he said it, but his voice held a certain kind of conviction that humans had when they were trying to persuade themselves. Sebastian scowled at his own tone.

"Harsh words," the Undertaker said, "harsh words indeed." He chuckled and got to his feet, moving as if he had no energy left. He wasn't the only one to feel tired. "You even left him here in the cold grass the moment he finally died." Clicking his tongue, he lifted the body into his arms. "Funny, I can't stop expecting him to wake up in a few hours."

Sebastian felt the same way but didn't say it out loud. Talking about the boy's beautiful coffin, the Undertaker started going away. "I'm going to lay you to rest, my little lamb, and I got you this suit, specially tailored for you. We wouldn't want something from a normal shop, would we?"

"Reaper," Sebastian spoke, interrupting the ramblings. The Undertaker turned around and looked at him, smiling knowingly.

"I'm coming with you."

"Are you going to lend me a hand? How nice of you!" the mortician chimed. When Sebastian got up and approached him, he met the other halfway. "I think you should carry him."

Ciel's familiar weight would have felt good in his arms if it weren't only a cooling shell he was carrying around now.

"Which flowers should we use for his grave?" the Undertaker asked.

Sebastian couldn't help the smile that crawled onto his lips. "White roses."

EPILOGUE

Several years later

"Hey, pal."

Somebody stopped, standing on green grass with a smile on their face. "I'm not really good with flowers and all that jazz, but hey, at least I tried. And that stuff smells good, so there you go."

A bundle of lavender was set next to a bouquet of white roses. Some of those flowers looked fresher than others, implying that they had been brought to the grave on different days. A small laugh could be heard. "I see they've been here. When Grell finds out –" The man interrupted himself when he spotted the single tiger lily next to the elegant black headstone. "Never mind, he knows already." Silence. "So, should Sebastian take that as a warning or not?" The man shrugged. "Ah, whatever, it's not really my problem, is it?"

Birds were chirping in the background, telling those who cared to listen that spring had arrived. Ronald grinned at the silent raven sitting on the tree branch above the grave. "Enjoying the music?"

The raven looked at him and seemed to decide that he wasn't interesting.

Leaning against his death scythe, Ronald checked the time. He smiled at the inscription on the headstone. "I had a few spare minutes until the next death, so I thought I should come visit you. But you sure have a lot of company. They still visit you after so many years. And when somebody like Grell passes by once in a while, you must be something freakishly special, huh, kid?"

Nobody answered.

"I can't say that I feel the same as either of those two or something akin to what Grell thinks of you. We haven't seen each other that often and this is my first visit since the funeral. But hey, I can't deny that I haven't been thinking about this from time to time. Even William sometimes talks about you, but to be honest, he only does it while rambling about the Undertaker when the guy's in London.

Anyway, what I'm trying to say is that you have my respect, man. It's weird to say that to a grave with a shell in it but I thought I admit it here. It fits, you know. There is something of you to that receives my words… I'm talking to a grave. Guess you really are something special." The smile faltered a little. "I wonder whether you would have been happy to know that this is over. Or that we are still thinking of you."

His monologue came to an abrupt halt when he looked at his watch again. "Oh shit, man, I'm gonna be late. Gotta go or William will make a belt out of my spine."

He grabbed his death scythe and left the cemetery in a hurry, not noticing the two men approaching the place from opposing directions. Each of them held a white rose in their hands and both had a certain carefulness in their steps upon spotting the other.

Then the man with silver hair grinned and waved, immediately loosening the tension.

The man with the red eyes inclined his head and motioned for the other to enter the cemetery first.

"You know," the reaper said, "I've got eyes in the back of my head. Don't try anything funny."

"I'd never dream of it," the demon said smoothly.

A giggle. "Well, that's because you can't dream."

Nevertheless, the Undertaker turned his back to the other and went through the gate that Ronald had left open. Sebastian followed him.

They arrived at the grave and the Undertaker bent down to remove the two oldest roses from the bouquet. He added his own and the demon's and smiled at the sight. "Oh, look," he said as he spotted the lavender, "so Ronnie must have been visiting him."

"Grell has stopped by, too," Sebastian added, nodding towards the tiger lily.

"Worried?"

"Not at all."

As he regarded the grave silently, he mortician pressed a finger to his lips in thought. "I've been pondering on this for a while now… I think it was your fault."

"It was," Sebastian said. "Even though I still cannot understand how I could have overseen that piece."

"Ecstasy," the Undertaker supplied. "It was ecstasy. Maybe doubt." He looked at him. "I think you didn't want to take his soul just then."

The demon shook his head.

"Why not? Care to share?"

"I rather not."

A giggle. "You hear that, Ciel? He doesn't want to admit that you were dear to him."

The demon briefly looked at the grave before he averted his gaze. "Please refrain from talking to remains. There's nothing that could hear you."

Throwing back silver hair, the mortician sighed, a wistful smile adorning his lips. "That's true."

The crow wasn't sitting on the tree branch anymore.

Looong author's note ahead after a long chapter (please read)

So, that's it. A tragic ending. Maybe even bittersweet; your mileage may vary. It had to be, wouldn't have worked any other way in my opinion. Ciel has lived his life; sometimes it 's better to let go...

Happy endings are nice and all that, but can't a story (in general!) be good and have a tragic ending? These days, it's all about happy endings. While I understand why people would want it, I always think that only reading happy endings gets quite boring. Sometimes there has to be something else. So, there you go =P I hope you liked it nevertheless! Thank you again for following and commenting this fic and all the favs! Feel hugged and all that! I heart all of you! XD

I had a blast writing this fic , so I hope you had fun/liked reading it.

Please don't forget your reviews this last time =)

Thank you.

!P.S.: I've been thinking of adding one or two extra chapters which focus on some past events mentioned in the story (for example Grell in New York City or something in Ciel's memory timeline that you would like a closer look at? Maybe an extra following the end?). Tell me whether you are interested or not. If yes, I can't guarantee an immediate update; it might take months until you get something, but the thought is there…

!PPS.:Crescendo (the AU SebaCiel fic I talked about in chapter 12) should be out either on May 30th or June 6th! The chances of a happier ending are high XD (I guess it's quite easy to write a happier ending than this) Maybe we'll see each other again in that one =D