A/N: Just got finished watching Kuroshitsuji II and decided that Claude didn't get nearly enough love. I'm writing this fic to fix that, but I plan on keeping old Claude in character throughout.

Chapter One: A Small Kindness

Claude Faustus—so named by his former master, the pathetic clinging boy Alois Trancy—knew he only had seconds to save himself after the Phantomhive butler impaled his body with the demon sword; but save himself he did with the help of his arachnid companions. Sensing his passing the spiders spun a web to capture his demon soul.

Claude watched with disdain as the maid Hannah laid beside him, with Alois and his little brother inside of her as if they were to be a happy little family for all eternity. What drivel. Though Alois's soul would have afforded him more power to sustain himself until he could retrieve his body, Faustus was glad he had not tainted himself further with the boy's unworthy spirit.

He felt himself being carried away by a powerful gust of wind through the English countryside inside the spider's web. The web finally landed near the door of an outbuilding of a large estate. It was raining hard, threatening to wash the web, and his soul, away. Claude clung to the web, unsure of his next move, when a false widow spider offered him a ride on her back. The spider butler thanked her graciously and hoped she could sense the bow he thought at her as his spirit climbed onto her back. Together they crawled into the warm and dry kitchen in hopes of a meal.

A matronly old cook removed a loaf of bread from the oven and placed it on a rack to cool, then wiped her brow with the back of her hand. She lowered her large form into a creaking chair at a rustic wooden table when someone burst into the kitchen.

It was a brown-haired girl, about 15 or 16 years old, dressed in a fine gown of green silk. "Oh Polly, it smells wonderful!" she effused. "May I have a piece now? You know how I love your soda bread."

"It's too hot yet," the old woman said gruffly, not bothering to get up. "Besides it'll spoil your supper, my lady."

The girl touched the bread and quickly withdrew her burnt finger, sticking it in her mouth. "What does that matter?" She asked shrugging sadly. "It's just me eating."

The cook grinned and stood up. "All right then. I'll bring you some bread and tea in the drawing room. But leave some room for your supper."

The girl kissed the old woman on the cheek. "You're a dear, Polly."

Claude frowned in disgust. Such familiarity with one's servants, what is the world coming to?

Suddenly the old woman screamed. "A spider! Look at the size of it!" The cook grabbed hold of a broom and tried to squash Claude and his false widow.

"Wait!" the girl said, taking her arm. "It's bad luck to kill spiders."

"Well, I don't want it in me kitchen!"

The girl looked around and spied an empty jar on the counter. She approached the spider and put down the jar on its side next to it. "Come on then, I won't hurt you. We have a nice warm barn you can live in and spin webs to your heart's content. And there's lots and lots of delicious bugs to eat too."

Polly harrumphed. "You are your father's daughter, no doubt about that."

Claude wondered briefly if it was a trick, but the girl's face was an open book; there was no guile or treachery written in her brown eyes. He told the false widow to climb into the jar, which she did. Much to the cook's chagrin, the girl threw on a Mac and rushed to the barn, shielding the jar from the rain, then setting it on the ground gently so the spider could escape. "Enjoy your new home!" she said sincerely.

Claude didn't know what to make of it. That the girl had affection for her servant was enough for the demon to dismiss the girl outright. Her soul must be as polluted by the need for affection as Trancy's was, but Alois would never extend kindness to any creature, let alone a spider. His curiosity piqued, Faustus whispered a request to the false widow, who bit the girl's finger and promptly scuttled away. The girl made no attempt to squash the creature even then. Hardly more than a thin strand of spider silk, Claude sniffed then tasted the drop of blood from her finger. He felt a surge of power fill him.

She was unlike any he had ever tasted. She was as delectable as Ciel Phantomhive in her way—the sadness, the sense of loss, the anger buried deep inside of her, but these heady flavors were tempered by sweet innocence; the kind attributed to the angelic host, but rarely manifested in reality. For the first time since Michaelis had killed him, Claude felt the pull of his body on his spirit. He would find form again and it was all because of her!

Claude had to have her. By hook or by crook he would make her his new mistress.

To be continued…