Warnings: some canon-like violence. Some blood. Some heartless treatment of poor children. (eg, canon-like.)

Thank you: for the favorites, watches, and especially comments. You keep surprising me by "subscribing" , and it makes me grin. Still looking forward to the anime starting…(flail) I can't wait to see it! (Carrie, you know you're amazing, right? End of story.)

Replies: A Reader: sorry, Alois is in my other story (A Secret Name. a bit darker…) and will not be showing up here, because that boy complicates things. :) Everyone else? You floored me with your enthusiasm. So. I am nervous now, wondering if I can keep up to your expectations. I'll try my best!

o0o0o0o0o

Chapter 51: His master, at last.

(Ciel)

"Your soul is lost, Ciel," Vincent called, his voice wrought with anger and despair. His eyes were very wide.

A shot fired through the air- Vincent's. There was no other noise, though, and nothing changed in the room.

Sebastian began to laugh.

Of course, Undertaker was not hit, but he seemed inexplicably amused by the situation; he trembled with laughter.

"Don't you understand?" Ciel clutched his hands into fists. "I need to do this! Not just for you- though I wanted to save you- but for me. I can get revenge-"

Vincent shook his head. "I saved you from that," he said.

"I don't care! I want this. I'm doing this. It's already too late anyway-" Ciel broke off, his voice ragged.

Undertaker laughed. Softly at first, then with a growing intensity that rang from the floor to the ceiling.

Vincent glared at Undertaker, smoldering in his anger.

"Touching. Hehehe! The child has saved his father, but at what cost?" Undertaker shook his head wordlessly before extending his long nailed fingers to shake at the man. "And Vincent, but how many times have you been in a situation similar to this? How many more times will you forget, before your brilliant mind is useless to me?"

Ciel's voice was quiet. "Undertaker can take memories," he said quietly. "He can make you forget."

"Not Undertaker, young master. Agares, if I'm not mistaken..." Sebastian murmured.

The other Reapers had taken advantage of this quiet moment, and Undertaker's distraction. Ronald plowed in with a reckless shove, and Grell swept down with that loud scythe hissing. They managed only a few blows before Undertaker swatted them away, his face, suddenly lacking his characteristic leer.

The Undertaker's seriousness seemed to underline the madness better than all the amount of juvenile humor he usually projected. As he met the blows of the Death Scythes with his own, truly wicked looking thing, something glimmered through the air.

"Vincent, Ciel. Did you get a good look at some of the staff? Some of them might be familiar…A second tier," Undertaker's smile widened as he caressed each word, "Circus member, perhaps? I was quite disappointed…you so thoroughly disbanded my first tier. Not even a mouse of a sponsor survived. He was rather disappointed, you know."

The younger reaper leaned his weight onto one foot, preparing to strike with his Death Scythe while the Undertaker was distracted, but Grell put a hand on his elbow, cocking his hip to one side. "Let the handsome ex-Reaper speak. Can't you see he's in the middle of a soliloquy? We can write whatever info he shares into our report; William will love it."

Sebastian barely seemed to register the Reaper's comment, as curious as the Phantomhives about Undertaker's scheme.

"Baron Kelvin, he wanted to be a hanger-on of yours, Guard Dog. When he realized he couldn't, he turned to a certain…organization that's so fond of sacrificial lambs. Yes. He knew about That Day, and how many tears he shed when he learned he couldn't die with the participants. But then he found his children, and his doctor…and he set about making a gift for your son, Vincent. Only he didn't quite have time to finish, did he? But his generous donations made the Phoenix, the Aurora Society, very excited."

The Queen's guard dog, the reigning lord of the underworld, stared at Undertaker, betrayal and pain written all over his face. He blinked, shook his head, and Vincent had come close to speaking out when That Day—when his wife was murdered and child taken—the shock of it gave way to the same anticipation a bloodhound might show. He'd caught a new scent, and now he was listening for answers.

"Worried, aren't you, Ciel? You should be; it's quite funny, really…but I will, after all this, have to wait for your soul to be collected (one way or another) before I can try and complete the Cinematic Record project. Only then can I reanimate your body, help you accomplish what your memories tell you are your dream. Agares was so helpful with that…sorting through all those memories," he snickered.

Sebastian tilted his head, his eyes blank.

"Oh my, but aren't you a twisted rebel? Playing with those human souls like that! Our record-books are in chaos because of you." Grell actually sounded impressed.

"What'd you do to me?" Ciel demanded, voice breaking.

"I didn't do that…your tiny child's body. That was Sebastian's fault for bringing you along. It's a chemical agent—reversible, but not without effect. Your heart, your lungs will suffer. I doubt they'll grow with you anymore. But you never know…I heard there's an experimental antidote floating around here somewhere. But I'd be more concerned about the other weapons if I were you." Undertaker smirked.

Sebastian's eyes were drawn to something above them all, even as the Undertaker launched into the air. The result was a cacophony of noise as the other Reapers flung themselves forward.

Even so, Ciel extended his hand, as though a doll on strings.

The other Reapers were too slow. In a flash, Undertaker was before the boy, capturing his flailing arms and legs in a mockery of an embrace. He smiled into the boy's hair, and spun on one foot, showing off his prize. His wide grin spoke of barely contained excitement.

Ciel reached out, whether to catch his balance or to try and strike the Undertaker, it was unclear. But as he fell away, he grabbed something. The Undertaker smiled, and gave a deep laugh.

Vincent lunged for his child, trying desperately to reach his side. He was too slow, and Sebastian reached the boy first. He stood there silently, smiling down at Vincent with a mocking raise of his eyebrows.

"Thank you for the laugh…" Undertaker snickered. "I haven't had so much fun in ages."

Vincent shook his head, anger marking his grip on the firearm. "Why." He demanded. "You could have changed so much."

Undertaker only gave a mysterious smile and shrugged. "Why live? Why die? Why do anything at all, if not for amusement?" He twirled his long hair, watching Ciel with something that might have passed for affection.

But Ciel had stopped, a silver locket clutched in his limp hands. The boy was utterly still. He had seen something.

He looked at the cage that had fallen. Near it, something moved toward the broken bodies on the ground, catching Ciel's attention. He stared until it registered: to the left, a man was walking down the aisle, his shoes echoing oddly amidst the debris.

The man looked deranged—as though the blackout, the feral patients, and now this eerie pile of bodies had shaken something in him. Now standing next to the children in the fallen cage, the lanyard caught the light and Ciel knew it was a doctor. A man with dark, curly hair, holding a knife and his vision shifted as he remembered.

The cultists in their black cloaks and gaudy masks. Their perverse excitement, their pleasure in holding Ciel and the other children at their mercy.

The doctor's mouth twitched and he spoke out of the corner of his mouth.

The two Reapers stood still. Perhaps something in their nature told them not to act. Death approached, and the time for them to collect Souls reared.

"Get up, girl." Miraculously, he had found one who was alive. "These must be the new clients." He pulled the girl to her feet, but she didn't respond, not even to the knife he waved before her. "Get up! Move. To the altar." The doctor limped, his scrubs stained with what must be his own blood. "They'll be wanting a sacrifice—someone to pay for their bargains. Our old clients," he gave a snort, "They wanted to save everyone from dying. Everyone? These children aren't of use to anyone. No one even noticed them missing for ages…what difference does it make to anyone whether they live or die?"

The Reapers watched the man drag the girl over to the altar. The altar before him was nothing like the one Ciel remembered- it looked more a table than an altar, or like a piece of medical equipment.

Ciel was hyperventilating. Two altars seemed to overlap—one sterile white, the other spotlighted by candles and chandeliers in a basement. Ciel watched the doctor lay the girl down—

-like snow white in her glass coffin.

Ciel remembered watching the screaming, terrified boy. The boy with dark hair and blue eyes (*1). He wasn't quiet. The boy on the altar, the boy who was dragged from the cell. Ciel remembered how that boy had thrashed and screamed even as the knife was plunged into his chest.

Ciel screamed, "Stop!" Why doesn't anyone help us? He had thought. His own hand seemed smaller, younger. Dirty with grime. His voice was hoarse with days of silence. Ciel shuddered and heaved. His knees buckled.

But no— his body may be smaller than it was, perhaps even smaller than it had been on That Day be thanks to falling on the Aurora Society's drug. He felt like that child of twelve, despairing and giving up hope and all belief of the prospect of salvation. There is no God. He tried desperately to keep a hold of what was past and present.

Ciel wrestled out of Sebastian's grasp, only for Sebastian to take his chin in his hands. The black nails were as claws, and his gaze was utterly ruthless; inhuman. "You know what to do. Speak my name. Give me an order." That voice was silky, dark and almost a low purr. Ciel shuddered to think that Sebastian might enjoy this situation.

Everything roiled about inside him, past and present, anger, shame and adrenaline. Without Sebastian there to lean on, Ciel would have swayed on his feet, would have been perilously close to collapsing. Ciel gasped out the name. "Sebastian!" He knew what to do. What his next order would be. "Kill them! Get rid of the doctors, and the patients!"

"The patients-" for a fraction of a second, Ciel thought Sebastian looked surprised, or perhaps resigned. Sebastian withdrew. "Your father will be needing them to prosecute-"

"Kill them!" Ciel screamed. "Kill them all." He sank to his knees, unable to keep standing.

Sebastian picked up Ciel more gently than the boy thought possible. He shifted the boy so that his head rested on his shoulder and took several dignified steps, and raised his hand. The room erupted into flames, taking the altar and the doctor, and running along the electric lights and into the cage where the children were.

Sebastian only looked on, his face a perfect mask of indifference. "Yes, my lord. If those are your orders," he bowed low, "then your will is done."

o0o0o0o0o

(Sebastian)

There was a high-pitched whine, the sound of the fire alarm going off automatically. Ciel stared up at the ceiling from his new vantage point, apparently wondering at the strange canisters there.

Everything moved at once. Grell's standstill had ended, and Undertaker and they had again crossed blades. The monotony began to bore me, but with Ciel's soul promised to me, I spared them little attention as the flames spread. If I could find the antidote…

"A weapon is only as good as the hand that holds it," Undertaker's voice cut through my concentration. He had the air of a senior employee chiding a young recruit. The flames licked at Ronald and Undertaker both, and Ronald's eyes grew round behind his glasses.

Ronald and Grell fell back at last, perhaps intent on finding the other souls that would need collecting after all the smoke. They would be very busy soon—and if Undertaker wasn't hard on their heels, he might be taken down by my maelstrom. They would make a tactical retreat, then.

Undertaker was also preparing to jump ship. He stood high above us all, ready to leap for freedom and far out of reach of myself or the two Reapers.

"After him!" Ronald declared, sounding like any junior staff member made to put up with tenured employees. Did he think himself a hero?

Grell spared me a final look. He lingered, perhaps enjoying the heat. "I look at you, and I want to see a knight rescuing a tragically deflowered innocent—"

I scoffed.

He continued, undaunted, adding a dramatic hand gesture. "I see not one of Shakespeare's greatest heroes though, but a dangerous spirit, a man with no love in his cold eyes. Red as love, but bearing none of it! Oh!" He swooned, and then glared at Ciel. "And you think that pitiful creature is a prize delicacy? Well, Sebas-chan. It's been nice, and parting is such sweet sorrow and all that, but I think we'll have to try a long-distance relationship. Ciao!"

Grey and Vincent were shouting, screaming orders into the inferno. The doctor was already dead, along with the child he had sacrificed before the Queen's investigators. Who exactly did they imagine they were talking to? The flames grew with supernatural speed, licking at everything around them.

"Take cover!" Vincent was screaming, casting his gaze about for an escape. But Grey was too slow. The man was struck by bits of metal as the canisters on the ceiling exploded. The Queen's Guard dog was watching me now. Such despair reflected in his eyes...

I smiled knowingly, and covered Ciel with my jacket, watching Vincent curiously.

Vincent raised his gun, and took careful aim.

I guessed what he was about to do, though I could not fathom his reason. The heart is far too complex, stretching beyond my grasp. "You cannot kill your own son... not even to save his soul. You don't have what it takes," I said, willing my words to be carried over the flame. The flames were mine, after all. They could be an instrument should I choose.

The chemicals already falling, crackled as they met fire. Areas of debris were showered in a fine, misty spray that smelled of human tampering and clever, clever death. And humans say that demons are cruel.

Vincent looked at his son, not at me. He spoke, and I could read the words on his lips and hear the gentle vibrations, but I doubted very much if Ciel could. 'Why? Ciel. You promised me you'd live.'

"And he shall live, Phantomhive. Until his wish is fulfilled."

"And if you can't fulfill it, the contract is void" Phantomhive steadied his hand, aiming the gun at his own flesh and blood.

Ciel's fist hit my shoulder, and his whole body convulsed as he coughed. The chemicals and smoke was not affecting him well. "Save him! Sebastian, I order you to-"

"My first task is always to see to your safety, little master. And saving him would not be good for your health."

Ciel wailed his objections even as I whisked him away, leaving Vincent and Gray behind to fend for themselves. They would escape by their own power, or not at all.

Ciel cursed me even as his lungs failed him. I would have to venture back to search for a cure, or his delectable soul would not be mine to taste…

I grinned into the night.

o0o0o0o0o

tbc…

Ciel has made the contract, Undertaker has explained a few loose ends, and Ciel is again on the path of revenge. Things are looking bleak indeed…how else to start a Contract?

Thoughts?