Disclaimer: All I own is the (kind of ill conceived) plot of this here fanfiction. Nothing else, so stop asking.

A/N: The final installment, folks. This part was written in one quick sitting, so I'm still not too happy with the ending. But it'll do. Fans of this little mini-series (however few of you there may be XP) can look forward to some other Kuro fics I have planned for the future, although again, I can't promise anyone any specific dates, cause I'm a terrible person/procrastinator. On another note, does anyone know a place I can watch/download the Kuroshitsuji Musicals (cause I think there's more than one now) with subtitles? I'm a sad person who doesn't understand Japanese, you know.

Warnings: 1) Time lapse, as always. I envisioned this chapter to occur... probably no more than a year after the previous one, but it could work longer. 2) Religious themes. This time it should be at least a little redeeming, although how you take it is ultimately up to you.

Enjoy, and don't forget to review!

IV. God is merciful.

Twilight.

The French called it l'heure bleue, the blue hour; a time after sunset and before sunrise, when everything from the blades of grass upon the earth to the brazen rocks atop the highest mountain bathed in a sea of azure. There was little to be seen or heard apart from blurred black shadows of creatures of the night, and a slow, steady drumming that was pounding into his eardrums.

Ciel Phantomhive sat, a figure cloaked in cerulean, listening to the beating of his own heart. Counting down.

The loudness of his own heartbeat was greatly annoying the Earl of Phantomhive; this was a time, the only time, in fact, he gave himself to think about death. For the topic was one he seldom had the luxury to explore. There were nights, plenty of them as of late, where he dreamt of hellfires and pitchforks and a world dyed red, and he found himself waking up with a smile on his face.

But now, he noted duly, the ba-bump, ba-bump of the damned muscle in his chest gave little room for much thinking at all. It was as if his body knew of the night he was going to have, and was now forcing him to pay attention. Listen well, now, lad. You haven't got many of these left.

Ciel swiveled his chair away from the window, surveying his drawing room. He had ordered Sebastian to clean up properly in here earlier, so the moonlight illuminated the dustless surfaces eerily, a picture perfect memory befitting one as damned as he was. The only thing exempt from the spotlessness was the old chess board sitting on the desk in front of him.

The thing had been untouched for months, now, but in truth he'd stopped playing the game long before that; now on the board laid a field that was quite impossible in practical terms, but he paid that no heed. The black side, behind which he was currently sitting, was left with a lone King and his Knight, while all pieces of the white side remained in their original posts, as if the game had not yet started. On a little pile beside the board laid the corpses of discarded black pieces. Ciel hardly gave the pointed crown of his long dead queen a glance before returning his gaze to the board.

Faraway, in some forgotten corner of the mansion, the grandfather clock chimed quietly, three times. With a readiness in his limbs that even surprised himself, the young Phantomhive picked up the black knight, feeling the fine layer of dust on it as he did so.

"Let's see now…" He murmured to no one in particular, scanning the board with poised eyes. "The guards'll be first." With a tilted head he began to knock over the white pawns, one by one, brushing each completely off the board before starting on the next. "The paranoid old fool has so many of them." He stated, as the last pawn was sent buried in the graveyard.

"Next will be the bootboys, milkmaids, cook, manservant…" The rooks and bishops went down, in clatters louder than the pawns entirely.

"The children." His hand hovered over the knights, "They'll have to go before, of course; it's merciful to spare them the rest of the sight." With a little tip, they fell, and were quickly ushered away.

There was a glint in Ciel's eye now, as he drew near what he knew to be the climax. "The Countess." With a clack that sounded more like a bang, the queen fell askew beside her king.

"And the grand finale."

A final, resounding crash, and only black was left standing. The young man smiled.

Right on cue, there came a knock on his door. With a nod, Ciel raised the knight again and knocked the black king over, not bothering to clear the carcass away. After all, that was a formality he feared he could no longer afford. He turned his back to the room once more. "Enter."

"Young master, I have returned."

The moon was ghastly white tonight, he thought. "It has been done?"

There was no time for hesitation before the reply came, "As per your orders, my lord, the entire household of the Count of Brisbane has been eliminated."

"Good." He opened his mouth to say something else, but found he had nothing to say, so he repeated, "Good." As he heard the footsteps behind him near, he breathed a deep breath. "I am a man of my word, Sebastian; you may claim your prize." He bit his bottom lip and steeled himself for the immortalization of his soul.

Sebastian's head blocked the moon from his view as the butler stood tall and mirthless over him. Leaning in to press a devil's departing kiss to his neck, the demon whispered in his ear. "Are you afraid, young master?"

The young Phantomhive put his head back as Sebastian nibbled at his earlobe, wrapping his arms instinctively around his butler's neck. "No…" he whispered back, "Just… tired."

He felt the devil's smile stretch, lips moving soundlessly against his skin. "I know you are."

"Hm." There was a long slice of silence after he hummed in reply, before Sebastian spoke again.

"Would you like to say a prayer, before you sleep, my lord?"

And an eternally restless slumber would follow, indeed. He gave a nod, closing his eyes.

"I invite you to start, young master."

As Ciel opened his mouth, he was made painfully aware of his heart, pounding more furiously than ever. "And now I lay me down to sleep,"

Of course he did. He was the very one who'd agreed, with hatred as his fuel and revenge as his prize, to strike up such a Faustian deal. And thus it was he, and no other, who eventually had to pay the price. He wasn't blind enough as of yet to not see this.

"I pray the Lord my soul to keep."

But it was the devil who would keep his soul now. Now, he'd be left spending forever and a day pondering about the heaven or hell he never got to see, the vague wonderment of what it would feel like to simply stop existing.

He could feel Sebastian's bated breath, enticingly warm against his mouth.

"If I should die before I wake,"

Death seemed like a far-off daydream, a fantastical daydream of freedom he'd sold off long ago. Every expansion and contraction of his heart made Ciel feel like it was going to jump right out of his chest, as though daring him to make it stop.

"I… I pray…"

Air stopped and caught halfway in his throat, and as he tried to choke out his words he felt Sebastian's fingers burying themselves in his hair, in almost a comforting sort of way. The butler was so close when he supplied the words that Ciel could feel every muscle movement against his own lips. The demon sounded angelic as he breathed, "I pray the Lord my soul to take."

The blood pounding in his ears escalated to block out everything else when the older man's lips met his. There was a dull ache blooming in his chest as his last breath hitched in his lungs.

What the…?

Widened sapphire eyes met crimson ones. A revelation. Spatter against his cheek. A tiny movement of the corner of his lips. And then he was no more.

Soundlessly the demon stood. He reached over to the chess board on the desk and gently swept the fallen king away. Bending back down, he joined their lips for the briefest of moments, setting the heart in his hands down on the young Phantomhive's lap.

"Good night, young master."