In a midst of red rivulets and blackness she stood

And he entered through the iron gate that sealed her perfect dungeon

Tell me I am beautiful

You are beautiful...I do not lie like those humans do.

Tell me you love me

I do not hate like those humans do

Never leave me...

(Never leave me...)

Never

(Never)

Let me die...

Dull, red eyes scanned the streets calmly, ebony bangs hung over his tired eyes. Forty years and yet he had not any sign of aging, internally he was much different. This was indeed, Sebastian Michaelis, the demon butler of Ciel Phantomhive, only it was no longer Ciel Phantomhive. The boy walked at his side, his blue eyes scanning the street as well. Many things changed since they had deported four decades ago. He had not changed much either, he was still a small being appearing to be the human age of thirteen. Many things had aged toward their end in London though. Mechanical machines known as 'automobiles' rode the landscape on the stone roads, the clothes had changed somewhat to a less Victorian decor. Nonetheless, the streets themselves of stone and pavement had not seemed to age, only it's occupants. The cold cement veins bore a sort of radiation that twisted Sebastian's heart, memories of when the city burnt and his final order's fruition...at least, the fruition it'd never come too. The smoke from tall, metal chimneys could be seen fluttering about like dusky butterflies sucking the nectar from the clear air. It was thick, and brought distaste to the demon. It bore a foul scent that reminded him of his covenant, and reminded him of the flames he'd never see in its beauty and integrity because of several beings that had been spawned from its ash.

A few or less trees lined the streets every other corner or so, autumn was setting in a beautiful spectrum of blood red and gold, bronze and brown, from green with life to brittle with death. Like the same butterflies as the black winged ones of London's industry, they fluttered at their feet. Sebastian secretly admired the view, as humans were lucky to have a second chance while he did not. He was trapped in the eternal winter of autumn, with life serving the dead with endless, undying devotion to the waltz of the earth's axis. He could see his life in that perfect rainbow of dedication, frozen in grief and sacrifice, dance against the cold stone of the streets. It reminded him of Grell, as he had not seen him for such a long time, and Madame Red. The lives of the wicked, those who debauched the meaning of lovemaking and childbearing, had been shed on these streets. He swore he could feel himself being ripped open with that chainsaw, and his depraved livelihood ripped out-it had been feed to his lord, the Phantomhive he followed earnestly and with no question. Alas this Romantic's Romance had come to a Gothic chill, for he was the wicked now served the wicked.

As they walked along they passed several buildings, one known as the Phantomhive Toy Store (which was abandoned and boarded up), the other a candy shop, and even the Undertaker's drab old place. However, unlike the other stores too old to be used any longer, the shop's exterior was refreshed and indeed mimicking Autumn in stone. It was dead and yet with good meaning, to bring life to that which seemed dead. They had not expected to see the sign freshly cleaned and the silver-haired man sitting against the wall with that eerie grin on his face. His wardrobe had hardly changed since they last saw him forty years ago and he seemed very high in spirits to see them.

"Well, well, well," he grinned, webbing his fingers one over the other, "It is good to see you again, Earl, and just after I buried Tanaka...Truly this is a good sign,"

"I am not here to see you, Undertaker. Nor have I any interest of my servants' happenings," Ciel retorted, grimacing at the man somewhat, "I am simply here on a whim,"

"And Mr. Butler?" he stood, circling the demon, "My my, are you hungry?"

Sebastian grimaced but remained calm. Indeed, he was quite hungry. Within his servitude he was no allowed any other soul except that of his master and he had no access to such a privilege now. He had grown dusty inside, and almost weak to his hunger in that sense. He felt as if that spider of a demon was still alive and within him, weaving webs around his inside and sucking the life out. It was indeed a seed of venom he had planted and that maternal demoness had reaped it for his liking. Had he known it was a tainted dish he would have prepared a new dish that would have better suited him and his master-that was not an option, to his chagrin. Thus, in his eternity, he had found ways around his hunger in his predicament. It was quite depressing for him, to spend his immortality on this child that was not meant to be a demon.

He had lived long before the nation of England came to be, he had seen wonders and purities, dynasties and kingdoms, fall to humanity's greed and short years. Now he had no life, virtually he was stuck between the stone of law and the flesh of his contract, and had no life but his master's.

"I am well, I assure you," he answered politely. The mortician chuckled and covered his mouth somewhat.

"How about some entertainment? Surely it'll bring color back to your eyes, Mr. Butler," he asked, pulling two tickets out from under his sleeve, "Two young lovers died in a crash yesterday and I took these from their bodies. Tickets to the Diva of Estonia, have you heard of her?"

He turned to the Earl, smirking knowingly at his humor, "I am just certain you shall enjoy her show. It will certainly be one hell of a song,"

He turned to Sebastian, "Ne, Mr. Butler? And after the show your master can try out one of my custom coffins!"

Ciel remembered his mansion quite clearly, behind the dust many portraits were still rather in tact despite the rusted frames. The dance floor had become tainted though with tarnish and the pillars with unwelcome cobwebs. Yet, as the wind blew through the halls as his servant opened the windows and door, they blew like curtains to reveal the true color. By now, he assumed his cousin was early into her fifties and a grandmother. He hadn't returned to marry her, and had left rather abruptly to pursue his new life. He stepped onto the carpet and marble where he and Elizabeth had his last dance, smiling coyly at the memory. It had been ever so pleasant to leave her, to let her live a life free of his coldness and also to free himself of her light. It was an invited burden he welcomed leaving.

"My Lord," Sebastian nodded, "Shall I see if your old wardrobe is still in tact? If it is your wish to see the Diva, we must find you a decent suit,"

"All my clothes are old," Ciel told him, sliding a finger over the dusty rail and grimacing at the dust that had accumulated on the wood, "Fix them and then clean this place up,"

The demon held back a sigh, "Yes, my lord,"