The AU Fic Without a Name

Chapter 1: End of the Line

The dry, dusty town, which sprang out from the hardened sand more like a clump of desperate weeds rather than an oasis in the middle of the desert, was officially named Octavia. Supposedly, a rather sentimental, old man had christened this patch of earth after his daughter with the idea that it might be as lovely as he thought her to be one day, but life was too hard and ugly here for people to stick to sentiments. At some point, folks took to calling the town End of the Line as it was what the stagecoach drivers used to shout that when they still regularly drove out this far into such rough terrain, and the name stuck. End of the Line was fitting as most that still called this place home had nowhere else they could go. Old outlaws whose eyesight had grown too poor to make their living with a gun, swindlers who no longer could swindle, and the general outcasts of society made up most of the population, and for most this was truly the end of the line.

The sun was still close to the eastern horizon when a stagecoach rattled into town. Eyes reddened by too much sun and cheap whiskey turned drowsily in the direction of the noise since visitors were rare, and once glance at the coach was evident that this was a most unusual visitor indeed. The team of horses were fresh and the rippling muscles of their flanks showed their fine quality. The coach itself was also new and still gleamed in the sun through the dust cloud created by the furious stamping of the horses. The owner of the lone mercantile and the hotel manager eagerly looked out their windows, hoping for new customers with paper money as the gamblers hoped for easy targets. In short, most everyone was excited to see who it was precisely that had chosen to visit their little town.

The coach stopped near the Grim National Bank; a two-story stone structure that was the only building that didn't seem to be drooping under its own weight as if melting in the sun. The driver, a tall, dark-haired man whose black attire seemed oddly unaffected by the ever present dirt and dust, jumped down from his seat and quickly made his way to the door. After positioning a step, he opened the door and bowed slightly. "We've arrived, young master," he said. His voice was cultured and precise, although there was no discernable accent. The townspeople who were sitting on the front porch of the China Saloon, narrowed their eyes with obvious suspicion and interest at the scene that was playing out before them.

From the shadow of the interior, a young boy emerged and carefully descended. His clothing was obviously tailored and of the finest quality, but it was a suit that seemed far more appropriate for a wealthy man than a boy. The deep blue jacket, the same brilliant color as his visible eye, and matching pants seemed to radiate like a jewel in the plain surroundings, but still there was something about the way he held himself that seemed out of place. His youthful face pinched slightly, tightening about patch he wore over his right eye, as he looked about the town with a distaste that seemed beyond his years. As if the town felt some sort of affection for the boy, the wind danced through gently and tousled his dark hair, which was in need of a trim.

He produced a handkerchief from his pocket and put it over his nose. "I now see why I have so few memories of this town," he stated, "No doubt, father didn't want me to see such a dreadful place very often." Unlike the man, the slightest lacing of a local accent tempered his voice, although his speech was deliberate and proper.

"Is that so?" returned the man, "As your memory is so unreliable, I would think that perhaps you had simply forgotten much about End of the Line."

The boy spun about and stared up at the man with anger clearly written on his features. "Are you questioning my memory, Sebastian?"

Sebastian smiled slightly, although there was still a teasing light glimmering in his brown irises. "Not at all, master," he said, "I only recalled that you have had voiced your own doubt in your memory."

For a few minutes, the boy only stared at him levelly, but then he released a soft sigh. "I have forgotten many things," he relented, "but I don't think this town is one of them. There's no way I could have forgotten anyplace such as this. Now, let's go. We have things to take care before we return to the ranch."

"Of course," Sebastian replied, and the two turned and made their way into the bank.

The inside was surprisingly clean and well-organized for such a small town, but only one teller was currently present at the barred counter. He was working with something just behind the counter, but raised his vivid two-toned green eyes at the sound of someone entering. A sharp toothed smile graced his face when his gaze fell upon Sebastian as he ran one hand through his long, blood red hair. Although only visible from the waist up, he appeared to be stylishly yet professionally dressed with a crisp white shirt and black vest, but his red-framed glasses with a matching eye chain were certainly unique. "Why, hello there," he sang out, "It's always nice to see new faces in town, especially faces like yours. Welcome to the Grim National Bank. I am your lovely teller, Grell Sutcliff. How can I help you?"

"Your business is with me," growled the boy, "I have come for the deed to my family's ranch."

Grell frowned slightly. "And just who might you be, boy?"

"I am Ciel Phantomhive; son of Vincent Phantomhive," he announced, "I returned to the area only days ago only to find that my father's property has been entrusted to this bank. I've come to claim it. However, I'd still like to know why the deed is even here. There was no mortgage owed on the Phantomhive Ranch. It was owned by my father – free and clear."

"The deed is our possession because we were led to believe there were no heirs," announced a rather cool voice from the doorway of a nearby office.

"Oh, Will," Grell cooed, "We have new customers."

"As I can see," came the immediate response. The speaker stepped out of the office fully and approached Ciel and Sebastian. He was about the same height in Sebastian and dressed impeccably in a dark suit and tie. His black hair was carefully combed back and his eyes, the same unique color as Grell's, regarded the two behind no-nonsense glasses. "I am William T. Spears; president of this bank. It is true that we have the deed to the Phantomhive Ranch in our possession but, as I stated previously, we were led to believe that there were no heirs. Vincent and his wife were killed in a fire that destroyed their house, and no trace of their son could be found."

"I am well aware of what happened to my parents," Ciel said, "but as you can see, I've returned, and the property is legally mine."

William adjusted his glasses as he looked down at him. "While I recognize that Ciel Phantomhive would indeed have a legal right to the land, I am reluctant to hand over this deed without any proof of your identity. Any young boy could claim to be this heir. Not only that, Ciel would be nearly thirteen years old if my math is correct, and you are quite small for a boy that age."

Ciel gritted his teeth, but Sebastian stepped forward before he could respond. "I understand what you are saying, but surely you can see our dilemma as well. My young master here only wishes to return to his family's property and put his painful past behind him."

"And who might you be?"

"Sebastian Michaelis," he answered with a slight bow, "nothing more a humble servant. Please, tell me how my young master might prove his identity."

William seemed to consider the matter for a moment. "I need positive identification from another party," he finally answered, "Is there anyone in this town who would be able to verify this claim?"

"I was barely ever in this pit you have the audacity to call a town," snarled Ciel, "but I did notice the China Saloon on my way in. Is Mr. Lau still the owner? He's been out to the ranch, and he's seen me with the father."

There was a barely perceptible nod from William. "Sutcliff," he called, "Go over to the saloon and see if Mr. Lau is available."

"Sure, darling," agreed the redhead. He stepped out from behind the counter and started towards the door, but William stopped him.

"Firstly, I am not your darling," he stated, "Secondly, what are you wearing?"

From behind the counter, Grell's full body hadn't been visible so it had simply been assumed by everyone that he was wearing slacks that went with his dress shirt and vest, but the moment he stepped out it became obvious that he was wearing his shirt over a rather long, elaborate red and black dress. The bustle was in place, giving the illusion of a fuller backside, but the ruffles in the front of the dress scandalously revealed the legs up to the knees. Beneath the dress, he was wearing stockings and rather elaborate, high-heeled red boots. "Isn't it lovely?" Grell asked, spinning around, "I saw it in the window over at Nina's dress shop the other day and I just had to have it."

"Honestly," William said, shaking his head, "Get back behind the counter. Knox?"

A younger man with blond hair that seemed unusually dark near the base popped his head out of a doorway in the back of the bank. Like the other two, he had green-gold eyes, although his oversized glasses seemed almost more stylish than functional. He swallowed a bite of food he had been chewing before speaking. "Yes, Mr. Spears?"

"I know it's your lunch break, Knox," William began, "but I need you to step over to the saloon and see if Mr. Lau is available. If he is, ask him to return with you to the bank as we have pressing issues to resolve."

"But if I lose part of my lunch break, I'll have to be given more time to eat later, and I don't want to end up working overtime again."

"Just hurry back, Ronald," Grell said, "I would go, but it seems like Will just doesn't understand what it means to be fashionable."

Ronald stepped out and looked at Grell's dress, although it was obvious he had seen it before. Shaking his head, he walked on around the counter and towards the front door. "Actually," he said, turning around towards Grell, "you look like you'd fit in better at the saloon then I would – especially as one of those girls Lau has handing out the drinks."

Grell gasped and threw an ink well at Ronald, which only barely missed his head. It hit the wall, leaving a huge, black blot and fell to the floor where it continued to spill its contents. "I'll have you know I'm a true lady and not some harlot, you brat!" he announced.

Ronald laughed, and it was obvious he had been meaning to tease rather than actually insult. With a huge smile, he quickly left the bank to make his way towards the saloon.

"Sutcliff, clean up your mess," William demanded.

With a shrug, Grell went to back where he retrieved some rags to clean up the spilled ink. He also seemed to have some sort of cleaning solution and the ink was quickly removed, although there was the faintest ghost of slightly darker section still visible on the wall. Grell continued to try and clean it completely, but it seemed that a small portion of the stain would remain no matter how hard he tried. Just as he was returning behind the counter to toss out the used rags, Ronald returned with two individuals.

The first newcomer was a Chinese man that was undoubtedly the Mr. Lau he had been sent to retrieve. He was a tall, slender man with a casual smile decorating his well-formed features. An attractive woman was clinging to his side as if he was a life raft in the middle of a turbulent ocean. An exotic beauty, her dark hair was arranged in an elaborate style not typically seen in the area, and her revealing outfit highlighted her figure.

"Why, Mr. Spears, I thought you said that didn't want my money in your bank," Lau said; his native accent flavored his speech although his English was perfect. He turned towards the woman, "Isn't that right, Ran-Mao?"

Ran-Mao didn't answer, although she did turn her brown eyes towards William briefly, who adjusted his glasses. "I still have no desire for any of your profits to rest within one of my vaults," William replied, "but I do require some information or rather identification."

"As I guessed," returned Lau, "I knew that one day he would return."

"I find that rather surprising," William stated, "I was under the assumption that he was considered dead."

"Oh, is that what everyone assumed? I thought that people realized he was still alive and just biding his time before he returned," Lau said. He smiled brightly as he looked about the room at the confused faces. "So, who exactly what we're talking about?"

"What?" Ronald cried, "I thought you knew! What were you babbling on about then if you had no idea who we were needing you to identify?"

Lau shrugged, and William shook his head as he cleared his throat. "I was hoping that you'd be able to identify Ciel Phantomhive," he said.

"Is that all?" Lau asked in response, "Why, that's him standing right there." He pointed to the boy confidently, who looked relieved for the first time since he had entered the bank.

"Are you sure?" demanded William, "It is of upmost importance that you are not mistaken in this."

"Oh, I'm quite sure," Lau answered, walking over towards Ciel with Ran-Mao still in tow. He touched the boy's head gently as he continued talking. "It has been a few years, but I saw the boy the last time I visited with his father, and this most certainly is the same child. He rather looks like his father, I think. Of course, I would have expected him to grow a bit more since I last saw him, but this child is most certainly Vincent's son."

Ciel seemed rather annoyed with Lau's commentary, but Sebastian's handsome features were curled in a slight smile, and he looked as if he might laugh. "Thank you, sir," he said to Lau.

"It was my pleasure," Lau responded and he turned to look at William, "Is there anything else you need of me? Since you won't allow me to store my money in your fine establishment, I really need to be hurrying back to my business."

"That will be all," William said dismissively.

Lau bowed slightly and started towards the door, but then he paused briefly. "Oh, Mr. Knox," he said, "I'm happy to tell you that your favorite flower will be unoccupied tonight. I'm sure she would enjoy your company."

"Thanks," Ronald replied in a somewhat uncomfortable tone as if he didn't like his after work activities being discussed in front of his boss, although William seemed unaffected by the exchange.

With a gentle nod, Lau and Ran-Mao left the bank, and Sebastian turned his full attention to William once more. "I trust we have satisfied your condition," stated Sebastian, "A third party has identified my young master. Now, if you would be so kind as to hand him the deed."

William didn't appear pleased with this development, but he simply held up his hand. "Please wait here," he instructed before walking behind the counter and opening a barred section that no doubt led the vaults. He disappeared inside and a series of rather loud tumblers could he heard echoing through the bank. After several minutes, all the locks could be heard being reinstated and William returned to the front with a piece of paper in his tight grasp.

"There's really nothing left of the ranch except the skeletal remains of the house and a few of the barns," announced William as he extended the deeds toward Ciel, who snatched the paper away rather quickly.

"That's really none of your concern," replied Ciel, "besides, I have a capable servant in Sebastian here. Now that I have this, my business is concluded here. Come on, Sebastian."

Sebastian nodded towards William, the same self-satisfied smile never leaving his face, before making his way towards the door so that he could open it for Ciel. Once the door was closed, Ronald let out a loud breath. "So the reports are true," he said.

"We can't be for certain just yet, Knox," William instructed, "Although it appears we did receive correct information concerning Sebastian at least. We must keep a watchful eye on both of them. The investigation hinges on it, and we must ensure that this creature never figures out the true contents of our vaults. Sutcliff?"

"Yes, my darling ice prince?"

William shook his head, but didn't seem to want to waste any time correcting Grell. "Follow them and learn what you can about the situation."

Grell smiled brightly. "But aren't you worried that the dashing Sebastian might just steal my heart away from you, love?" he asked playfully.

"If you let yourself become fooled by that false face he has now, then it would be your own fault," returned William, "We both know that his true form is repulsive. Just disguise yourself and keep an eye on both this boy and that creature."

"You want me to hide my beautiful self in some dreary disguise?" Grell asked with a mock pout, but he didn't wait for an answer. He ran his hand through his hair and quickly the vibrant red color faded into a dull, muddy brown and his eyes became a lackluster green. "Yes sir, Mr. Spears," he said in a faux humble tone, "I'll get to it right away." With his head down and his steps uncertain, he started to leave the bank.

William sighed loudly. "Honestly, Sutcliff," he said, "You should know that disguise will not work like that."

"Like what?" Grell demanded in his natural tone.

"Slacks, Sutcliff. Try putting on some slacks."

Grell looked down and smiled. "It seems like such a shame to hide my legs," he said, "but I suppose it's a sacrifice that I have to make for now." Laughing to himself, he returned to the back of the bank and went up a set of almost hidden stairs that led to their living quarters. "I won't let you down, my darling," he called downstairs.

"I'm not your darling," William said mostly to himself. Quickly, he adjusted his glasses as he returned to his office to pen a quick note to his superiors. His pigeon, Rosalind, watched him intently with her dark eyes as he wrote the letter and prepared to attach it to her leg. Although the letter itself was light, and would not weigh down his beloved pigeon too much, the content in those few written lines was weighted with a heavy, grim prospect.

((x))

Ciel's coach rattled over the rough terrain, but Sebastian expertly guided the horses to ensure the smoothest trip possible. The Phantomhive Ranch was quite a bit away from the town, but soon enough it came into view. However, it wasn't anything like the people in End of the Line would have expected especially after hearing the reports of the tragedy which had occurred here nearly three years prior.

William had described the house as skeletal remains, which would have true only a week ago, but that was before Sebastian had a chance to rebuild with his rather inhuman skills and talents. Now, it was exactly the same as it had been before, although Ciel could only give vague and indeterminate descriptions. It had been almost three years since he had seen the home nor was it the one he had spent most of his time before his parents' death. His father had houses in many locations, although it had been easy to claim ownership of most with Sebastian's help. In fact, the ranch had been the hardest for him to procure, but it was the most important for the task that Ciel had in mind.

As the coach pulled close to the house, four figures emerged from inside and stood on the low, broad porch. Their clothing immediately identified their positions within the household. Although this ranch boasted the finest house for many counties, five servants almost seemed a bit too much for such a rustic location, but each had their own reasons for being there. They all stood back respectfully as Sebastian brought the coach to a halt and prepared the step for Ciel to exit, but each of their faces held expectant expressions.

The boy stepped forward and calmly looked at his servants, but he already knew exactly what they were all wondering. "I have the deed," he announced calmly as he held up the aforementioned document.

"That's wonderful!" exclaimed the youngest of the servants. At first glance, he barely looked older than Ciel with his small statute, unruly blonde hair and large, green eyes. The faintest hint of a German accent accompanied his words when he spoke. His clothing was indicative that he was a gardener, but the pathetic, wilted plants barely poking out of the ground of the supposed garden spoke to his lack of talents.

"I had no doubts," said the man dressed in white chef's clothing, "Not with Sebastian being there with and all. He can do anything!" With his rugged face and perpetual facial stubble, he looked the most at home in the area of any of the servants. He ran one hand through his blonde hair as he took a drag from the cigarette clenched tightly in his mouth. His blue eyes sparkled with admiration as he spoke.

"That's right. Sebastian is amazing," agreed the maid. Her red hair, poking out from beneath her frilled cap, almost matched the blush that appeared on the part of her face that was visible around her rather large, thick glasses whose glare obscured her eyes from view.

"I only did what was required of a Phantomhive servant," Sebastian countered, before turning his attention to the gardener. "Finny, take the coach and horses into the stable, and do mind your strength. We don't need another incident like last time."

"I'll take care of it right away," Finny agreed as he arranged his straw hat. Being obviously careful, he took hold of the horses and led them and the carriage around the house.

"Bardroy. Mey-Rin." Sebastian began, addressing the cook and the maid, "There is still much the needs to be done. The young master is tired and is going to retire to his study, so he is not to be disturbed."

"Yes, sir," the both readily agreed as they turned and hurried back into the house. Mey-Rin risked one more glance back at Sebastian and tripped as she stepped through the doorway. Her crush on the butler couldn't have been more obvious if she had painted her feelings across her forehead.

"And Tanaka," stated Sebastian as he looked at the last servant. He was dressed in typical butler's garb, but his dark eyes were unfocused and his smile had a dreamlike, distant quality. It was obvious that the older man with the silver hair and dignified wrinkles wasn't fully there mentally, and Sebastian's voice softened slightly as he addressed him. "Why don't you keep an eye on the others to make sure they are doing their jobs correctly?"

Tanaka chuckled softly and shuffled into the house as to follow Sebastian's request. While there were times that the former head butler was fully aware of himself and his surroundings, those moments were becoming fewer and farther between as of late.

Ciel and Sebastian also started into the house, but Mey-Rin was waiting just inside the entrance. "I almost forgot," she said nervously, "some letters arrived for the master." She handed two envelopes to Sebastian before disappearing towards the rear of the house to complete some errand.

Without speaking, Ciel made his way to his study as Sebastian followed, firmly closing the door behind them. The boy sat down in a chair that almost seemed to swallow his small form as he laid his head and arms upon the massive, mahogany desk. "Who are the letters from, Sebastian?"

"The first one is from your Aunt, Francis Middleford," Sebastian answered calmly, as he removed his coat to reveal his typical butler's attire. The coat was returned to a closet before Ciel could even recognize the movement or action.

"No doubt to see if I've arrived safely at the ranch," Ciel mumbled, but then he looked up at Sebastian with a curious expression. "The man at the bank, the president, didn't he say that the deed was there because there were no heirs?"

"He did, sir," answered Sebastian.

"Couldn't my aunt have claimed the property?" asked Ciel, "She had a right to do so as my father's sister, and she's married."

"I suppose that she could," replied Sebastian, "but perhaps she didn't wish to do so."

"I wonder why she wouldn't."

Sebastian smiled slightly as he titled his head to allow his ebony strands of hair to fall across his sculptured, pale face. "Maybe she was holding out hope for your safe return."

Ciel snorted. "I doubt that," he answered, "My aunt is not one to hold on to such foolish fantasies and sentimental nonsense. Besides, it would have been a wasted hope." He sighed as he sat up and interlaced his fingers. "Still, I'd like to know why the deed was in that bank. I know there's no such thing as a courthouse in that town, but usually such documents are held by lawyers or in some other public office. Deeds usually go to the bank only if there is money owed."

"Perhaps there is no such places here," Sebastian offered.

"Perhaps," Ciel agreed, closing his visible eye, "I'm getting rather hungry, Sebastian. I think I would like my lunch."

"Of course," Sebastian replied, "There is, however, the matter of the other letter, which was sent by the President.

Ciel's eye flew open as he took the letter quickly from Sebastian's outstretched hand. In a matter of minutes, he had read the contents and allowed the letter to fall upon his desk like the final leaf of autumn. "It is exactly as we guessed," he announced, "President Cleveland wants us to gather information about a few of the remaining games from some harlot – 'Limbs Lenore' to be more precise. What sort of name is that?"

"I've heard that she's a rather unattractive woman," answered Sebastian, "Very tall and quite gangly so that she appears to be all legs and arms."

"Not to mention the fact that other women in her chosen profession have a tendency to wind up dead with their limbs hacked off whenever she's around," added Ciel. It was obvious the question had been somewhat a rhetorical one. Shaking his head slightly, he got up from the chair and walked over to the large window behind him. "Where are you?" he asked in a whispery tone.

"Sir?"

"I was talking to my parents' murderer," Ciel replied, "I've done everything I've set out to do so far, Sebastian. I became a Pinkerton agent just like my father, despite their reservations about my age, and I'm also the President's Hound – sniffing out the ruffians and remaining outlaws so that this land can become civilized. All of this just like my father. I'm living on the very property he was murdered in, and I'm investigating the very case he was at the time of his death. Even the President's orders fit in since this Lenore was supposedly connected to the James-Younger gang in some manner. The trap is set, Sebastian, and everything is as it should be. I am playing the part of the cheese, and now we'd just have to wait for the rats to make their appearance."

"Indeed, master," Sebastian agreed, "And do you really think that this matter your father was looking into was related to his murder?"

"There must be some relation," insisted Ciel, "My father didn't have to hide his deeds as he was protected by both the Pinkertons and the President. Even if he didn't allow his name to be attached to the death of some outlaw, it wasn't a matter that had to be kept hidden. That's what makes the death of Jesse James so unusual. First, there is this cover-up with the made up tale that he was shot by Bob Ford while hanging a picture. I'm almost more surprised that people bought the story that an outlaw such as that would turn his back so readily on an armed man than by the fact that they accepted a corpse of the wrong height."

There was another of Sebastian's smiles. "I'm not sure about that being such a surprise. If I recall, Mr. William Hickok had his back to the door while studying his infamous dead man's hand during a poker game when he was shot."

"Anyone who decides to give himself the nickname of 'Wild Bill' to try and stir up respect was certainly more talk than action, although I will admit he was a good shot," Ciel replied, "But this cover-up concerning James was very peculiar. Then, three years after most of the country has accepted his supposed death, my father was assigned to actually end his life, even though the James-Younger gang had long since disbanded."

"And shortly after killing James your parents were killed and you were-"

"I know precisely what happened," Ciel interrupted, unconsciously wrapping his arms about his chest briefly, "but now everything is exactly in place. We simply have to wait for the killers to make their move. This time, I'll be ready because you'll be here. Right, Sebastian?"

"I'll be by your side until the very end," Sebastian replied, bowing slightly, "Now, I'll attend to your lunch."

"Very good," Ciel said, his attention drawn back to the window. He stood there, looking out over his land with silent determination. No doubt he was intending to project the image of a confident cattle rancher and fearless Pinkerton agent, but he looked more like a lost little boy watching and waiting for his father's return.