Disclaimer: nothing owned, nothing gained.

Warning: this story contains violence...which Sebastian enjoys. (Please note the Teen rating. Descriptive, but not graphic.) It will contain adult themes in later chapters. (chapter 14 and 15, for example.)

HOWEVER, if you think the only value in fanfiction is free pr0n, then you should go read something else. I respect this site's restrictions on lemons. (Eg I do NOT write smut/lemons.)Thank you.

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Alternate Summary:

"I will devour your soul at the end of our contract in six or sixty-six years. The first, and you will command all my abilities as a personal servant. The latter, and I will serve you once a year for every year remaining." His long arms snatch through the darkness to cup my face. "Choose."

A/N: this story is written in 1st Person present point of view. It is also a Modern Crime World AU. (Eg, not related to events in either manga or anime, except that they share characters.)

Thank you Carrie for the beta!

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The Secret Name

Chapter 1: Intrigue among friends

in which Alois realizes Ciel is hiding something, and then attempts to summon a demon.

(Ciel)

"Hey. You in?" I say on the phone while I type in the security code.

Static muffles Alois' reply, but I finally make out a "...sure...I'll get dressed." before he yawns and hangs up.

I roll my eyes and walk leisurely to his door. I hit the buzzer. "You decent yet?"

"Hell, decent? Aren't I always?" Alois laughs. I hear footsteps, and a moment later the door unlocks and opens. Alois's blond head bobs, and he waves me in. He is dressed, fortunately.

"Odd that you come on your own," he raises an eyebrow. "I take it this is a social call, and not some request for insider information?" He smiles suggestively. "Or do you need a brilliant actor to do some James Bond worthy spying?"

I roll my eyes. "I got tired of bumming around." I shrug, and follow him into his sitting room. I focus on breathing normally.

"So you came to talk to me," he says slowly. "Something on your mind?" He lowers his lashes and smiles. His lips are bright.

Suddenly, the china cabinet seems quite interesting. "Not really."

"Really?" he asks sharply. He's not buying it.

I shake my head, fiddling with my sunglasses. I take them off, knowing that the near-magic (or maybe actual magic) lens will look however it's supposed to. It keeps most people's eyes away from mine— most people.

I continue brooding, not intending to, but that's how it comes out.

"Catch yourself before you fall," Alois suggests, and his voice is a lilting play on words. Just looking at him, you might think he was sated, lazily commenting on a conversation from an hour before.

I look at him carefully, watching his eyes—and like colored glass, they can be clouded with emotion or clear as shallow water. Better, his eyes now are sharp.

"What?" I demand.

Alois laughs. He's the kind of person who laughs often, and his emotions are bare on his face…embroidering his voice too. He leans forward. "Why don't you tell me what it is, and I'll see if I can put my startling intellect to the problem?" His lips are curled into a smirk. Curious, then.

I sit down at the table, leaning lightly against the arm of the chair. I try my best for nonchalance. I slide my eyes over to him, trying not to be too conscious of the colored contact drying out my eye. "Things have been busy lately," I hedge.

His laugh suddenly brittle, Alois eyes me with suspicion. "Uh-huh," he gripes. "And that's why you're here, looking for information to keep you more busy." Irritation flashes across his face, hot and dangerous.

I sigh. "Mm," trying to pull my thoughts in order, I lean away from the cushions and toward him. "I was hoping you would enlighten me with something that might suggest why I've been so hard pressed recently," I offer slowly. "So that I might remedy the account."

Alois wrinkles his nose at me. "I hate it when you talk like that," he remarks.

I frown, and blink slowly against dry eyes. "And I know you know what I mean."

He yawns. "Might." With an almost feminine flourish, he crosses his legs, tosses his glossy hair, and offers a smile that's all desire and soft, moist looks. "But I prefer you speak plainly, Ciel." He's lounging in the chair opposite mine like a cat in the sunshine.

Fidgeting is never the best of moves, so I lace my fingers together. "Another video cropped up," I say flatly.

Alois' smile falters a little. "Really." He seems torn between scandalous interest and outrage.

The time it takes for his expression to settle is enough for me to shrug and pick up a cup of tea, "Sebastian was able to take care of it," I say pointedly. "But I wanted to know…have you any idea why I might be suffering their re-release?"

Alois nods slowly—as though he's grasped more than just the meaning of my request. He practically falls into the cushions after he lets go of the tense energy. Watching him carefully, I see the barest of rise and fall of his chest—he's breathing shallow and quick.

I smile slightly. "Propriety begs few questions, I suppose."

He looks up with a shimmer in his eyes. "I think that was a long time ago." I can see the curiosity turning into fascination, and his shock shifts accordingly.

I stiffen. "Your point being?"

Alois shrugs. I can't read his intent any more than I could read the sky. "Why do you care?" he asks blankly.

I repeat his gesture. "Hmm. Maybe it as something to do with reputation," I snap, leveling my gaze on him.

With a small wave of his hand, he pushes that aside. "It's more than that. You'd think that if it was a rumor." He licks his lips, but his face is so blank. Unlike him, and startling. "This has history behind it."

My breath feels tight in my chest. I can't help but think someone has a death-lock around my lungs.

Clapping his hands together, Alois laughs full throttle, heedless or uncaring of any social graces the situation calls for. Then he's practically dancing, falling into the cushion next to me. He leans against me, touching his cheek to my shoulder. "Your dark and treacherous past," he muses, and I see a flicker of pink between his lips. "Coming back to haunt you, is it?"

A beat of heavy, maddening silence.

"I knew we had a lot in common." He grins, and his giddiness turns into low, almost inaudible laughter.

A long while passes. "Breathe, Alois," I mutter. My lungs ache enough without him to worry about.

His hands have somehow wound their way around my waist, and his fingers twitch through to pull up the fabric. "We're more alike than I thought," he murmurs.

I stiffen.

Straining away from him upsets both our balance. I fall against Alois, and realize my hand is touching bare skin, while his mess of blond hair and striking fae-ish features are closer than ever. I can feel the blush spreading from ears to nose. Fair skin does that.

I scramble for words.

Alois leans in to plant a gentle kiss on my cheek. A mix of emotions are at war in his eyes. The turn of his cheek, arrogance. The tilt of his mouth, sadness. His grasping hands speak of something else still, and I do not know it. My father did not tell me how to read such things.

"Just tell me." His voice is flat.

"Tell you what, Master Alois?" A low voice interrupts from behind. Heavy amusement fills the room, so I can easily imagine the expression.

Making no move to assist in untangling of limbs, Alois almost hits my chin he turns so quickly. "What are you doing here?" His outrage could cut glass.

Stiff still, I shrug him away. His lips brush my ear.

"Don't you trust me?" he complains, but he's more than offended. Even without telling signs, I can see that.

"What is it, Sebastian?" I shift so Alois will either move freely or fall off.

I hope he falls…

"I took the liberty of preparing tea." Sebastian is only proper with that smirk dancing and eyes half lidded. "Also," he looks at me, and his expression smooths, "The materials you asked for are in the east drawing room. Young Alois has been good enough to leave them for you." Long habits persist, and I can almost see him bite his tongue as he leaves off a title. But he lazily adds, "Ciel," at the end.

Honestly, he'd be calling me master this and young lord that if I let him. He'd ruin my cover.

From his new perch on the table, Alois fakes a yawn. "Yes, I did." He eyes Sebastian with a young tom cat's territorial pride. "Come to me when you're finished with them, and we shall continue our discussion."

I laugh. Despite his hatred of pretense and pompousness, he's learned the cadence rather well. "You are so very kind," I smirk.

Alois ruins the effect by shoving at me while I stand. I stumble a little, but Sebastian is before me in a flash, catching me before I fall into the china.

I ignore his childishness, and make my way to the door. "See you after, then."

When I turn to nod, Sebastian has confronted Alois with a gentlemanly bow. His hair hides his crimson eyes, and the smile is back, dancing between a snarl of teeth and blood to mocking respect.

I can only imagine what Alois thinks.

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(Alois)

The house has been silent for near an hour now.

I find myself idly turning a strand of hair through my fingers. My eyes stray to the leather chest containing the fruits of my research. I tilt my head, running through the list in my head. Chalk, incense, candles, silver and iron and the script. And more henna.

I frown at the complicated loops and knots going up both my hands and wrists and the symbolic knot around my heart. And of course, the third eye.

I suppose Hoichi the ear-less had it worse, though. He had to cover every inch of his body, not just a few areas.

The latch flips open easily. I take out the papers— copies of copies cut and pasted together to look like Latin and Hebrew texts. The newer typeface inserted above the old letters is almost an eyesore, except that they're the only part of the thing that I can read. The damn thing even has footnotes and pronunciation guides.

It looks good, I'll give it that.

I get out my chalk tied to a string and set it in the center of the room. I move my hands agitatedly, sticking out my tongue in concentration. I smudge at the point where the two ends of the circle meet, making it seamless. Yeah. Just like that.

I briefly think about running through the motions— just to practice. Just set everything up and look at the words on the paper. Maybe pronounce some words, but not much.

But what the hell. I might as well put all this to use.

I'm practically dancing to the corners of the room, lighting candles and burning sticks of incense. I hum under my breath, feeling giddier than I have in too long. I put the silver necklace and iron bracelet on. Take a deep breath. Hold it. Relax.

Then I step carefully into my chalk circle, adding some Buddhist names and characters on a whim. The different sources couldn't agree on anything, anyways, so more is better, right?

I begin to chant, sounding out the unfamiliar words. Silence seems to ring around me, and I feel a sudden drop in temperature. Excitement and anticipation send mixed signals up and down my spine. I wait for something— for the words to start to glow, or come off the page. Or maybe the incense to combine into some sort of smoky eyes of the fairy. I wait for my fairy servant's dramatic entrance.

But then everything starts to get hot, hotter than before. Sweat beads up on my brow, the dry heat hitting me like a wave. The words on the page blur, but refocus when I blink the fog away.

"What's this?" A crackling voice hisses behind me. "A human boy trying to summon something."

A sudden, overwhelming anticipation overcomes me. I laugh and whirl around, looking for the fairy. But all I see is a hazy yellow-and-orange flickering light. A brighter flare catches my attention— something like the light of one of my candles igniting on the sofa. No. No, that's not right, is it?

All at once, the other flames flare up, and I can make out a face.

This will be the day my whole life changes. I just know it.

"Poor boy," the flame runs up the back of the sofa and catches the lampshade. Is this happening?

I've searched so long for the fairy, for the spells that would allow me to call it. I need this, more than I need anything. More than I've needed even my name because this time, I want it to be real. I want to be really, really gone from that tasteless past, and I want the power to keep me there.

The fairy is glowing. Its form isn't humanoid, and it isn't really tiny, or like a person at all. I guess it's not a fairy at all, but an imp...or a fire salamander or something.

But it's mine, and I want it. I reach out, grasping in my memory for the right words.

"Stay. Hear. Listen. You are mine," I gasp out, or that's what I'm supposedly saying in tongues.

Despite the grayish air, the curling, twirling smoke, I'm giddy.

Then it laughs, and the fire roars.

It doesn't work. Oh shit, it doesn't work. I curse continuously under my breath, and then loudly. I begin to cough, my eyes watering. Trying to breathe, I feel the excitement drain away. My knuckles are white against the book.

Should I get out of the circle and trust the other defenses?

But no, the flame is already eating at the pages in my hand, and the face and wispy hand grasp at my clothes. Laughing like a maniac.

The room begins to fill with thick, black smoke. It's so fast, so dense, breathing is hopeless. I stumble out of the circle, abandoning any last protection it might have. My vision reels to black, a fierce headache and thirst driving me away— to the door— to air.

Panic begins to creep in.

Trying to sound the part, I point at it as I retreat. "You," I cough. "Obey me." I burst out, my words coming out like rasps.

It has to listen; I just have to be patient, I think vaguely. But I can't think anymore.

Around me, the world dims, and the crackling fire echoes in my ear. Familiar, so familiar. It's like stepping back in time...hot, searing air in my lungs and the chill in the air that bites to the bone.

The fire spirit only laughs, its voice like a roaring, crackling bonfire. The fire is too hot, the air too stale.

"Obey me!" I shriek.

A burning book flies magically off the worktable, crumbling to ash before my eyes. The charmed circle depicted there slowly disintegrates, eaten away by flame.

What the hell is going on? and why isn't this working? fight for dominance in my muddled brain.

I fumble, reaching out and turning my shoulder to the door, hoping and knowing that I've not done this right.

The fairy is not mine.

Then, the door slams shut.

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tbc…

thoughts?

Author's note: take the time to Review, please. :) I like your comments more than candy~

This is a relatively serious fic, with doses of lighter, humorous scenes popping up sometimes. (:

Critique welcome.