Chapter One:

Coopersville, Colorado

The saloon on the east side of Main Street seemed an impressive enough establishment, Sebastian Michaelis decided. He observed the place more carefully as he tied his horse at the hitching post in front of it. Then he crossed the planked-wood sidewalks that bordered most of the businesses in the town, pushed open the double wood-slatted doors, and stepped inside. For a moment he stood there letting his eyes adjust to the dim interior, and observed the place.

Music played, not to loudly or wildly. Encompassed in some of the dust that filled the room, a talented young man played the guitar while sitting at the piano, seemingly oblivious to everything around him, except the pleasant sound of his music. A boy, half hidden from Sebastian's view, sang to the man's guitar with a soft and lovely voice, a sound that seemed plaintive and out of place here, no matter how "respectable" the establishment, for in the midst of more earthly masculine pursuits such as playing cards, drinking, and bawdy, bartered gratification, he seemed to weave silken, haunting dreams that curled around any person's heart or soul. Perhaps it was his choice of song that created that illusion. A ballad from the recently ended war between the states. The words were sad but the complete beauty of his voice made them poignant.

Or perhaps is was the mystery of the singer himself, for his back was turned to him and his view of the boy was partially blocked by a support beam. The rise of the dust that was kicked up into the air by the patrons near the piano was also a problem. But through it's haze he could see that the boy was slim, darkly clad, and had navy blue hair. Worth investigating later, he determined. Not now. No matter how intriguing the boy might prove to be.

He stiffened his shoulders and willed himself to forget the musician and the singer, since such a business needed much more than just a talented pair of entertainers in order to survive. He studied the saloon once again. The tables and chairs looked sturdy, obviously meant to survive a barroom brawl or two, but were handsomely carved. The bar was beautifully carved as well; etched glass mirrors rose behind it. A long winding staircase led to the second floor, and though Phantomhive's was billed as a "gentlemen's bar," this was a frontier town, built by cattlemen and gold seekers, and few of them were gentlemen. Phantomhive's provided every kind of pleasure, he had heard. Wine, woman, and song could all be found, here the wine and the song in public view, the women more discreetly in the rooms at the top of the beautifully crafted staircase.

He found himself wondering if the beautiful singing nightingale was part and parcel of the entertainment Phantomhive's offered upstairs, then he again reminded himself that, for the moment, he had to be more amused than intrigued by the prospect of such entertainment. He'd come to town with a purpose, a purpose that had simmered in him for an eternity it seemed at times, always aglow, like the flicker of a small flame, burning within him. Sometimes, though, the flame rose. To something like a brush fire, wild, and so hot it singed everything around it. Memory could make him forget hunger, taste, touch, or desire. Any woman, any need. Memory could bring back the past in vivid pain and color, and he would swallow hard and fight the pain and assure himself that he would have his revenge. His time would come. He would make it come. He had dedicated his life to it. He had waited a long time to reach this point.

And he was close now. So close here in Coopersville. And at Phantomhive's Saloon. By chance, he had happened upon the information and good fortune to come here, right where he would get a good foothold to begin.

There had been a change at Phantomhive's recently. One he was going to be able to use well on his own advantage.

He stepped up to the bar, adjusted his hat, and stared at the denizens of the place. There were cowhands stretched out alongside of him to his left, most of them still clad in chaps and dust, spurred boots and wide-brimmed hats. Some of the town's leading businessmen seemed to be gathered at his other side, upright fellows in gentlemen's suits, crisp white shirts, fresh-shined shoes, and slicked down hair. Mixed in among them all were some of the town merchants with their vests and time pieces and rolled up sleeves.

At the gambling tables, the cowmen and the businessmen seemed to mix; there were at least four poker games going on at various tables, two of them run by the house, and two of them undertaken by clientele alone, dealer's choice of games, both of them sporting large amounts of cash upon the table.

"What'll it be, sir?"

The bartender had curling gray hair and whiskers, intelligent eyes, and a pleasant manner. His crisped stripped shirt spoke of the establishment's respectability, which was remarkable in a dust covered new town etched out on the boarder of Indian territory.

For a moment he thought back to a time, a life he had known briefly. A time with cool breezes and soft, sweet scents, the whisper of a river, thick grasses. A lemonade would have been nice.

He looked around at the mixed crew of the customers in the saloon.

"Make it a whiskey," he told the bartender, tossing down a gold coin. The bartender grinned and handed Sebastian a bottle and a shot glass. Sebastian surveyed the room for a moment. He wanted information. It never hurt to play for a little money.

He strode to one of the tables at the back of the saloon. An old timer sunk low into his chair with his hat pulled down over his eyes, appeared to be dozing off through the proceedings. A small pile of coins sat in front of him, but he wasn't playing the least heed to the cards being played. It didn't matter. He was being assisted by two young fellows who sat on either side of him. They were identical twins about twenty years old with shaggy brown hair cut the same length, the same brown eyes that glinted with the innocence of youth, and the same wide-toothed smiles.

The other two players were something else. Dealing was a rough looking gent with a scar down his left cheek, sallow features slim and taut, eyes so light a brown they appeared to be snake yellow, and hair so dust covered it was difficult to discern it's true color.

Across from him sat his very antithesis, a man dressed in an immaculate black frock coat and breeches, and wearing a crimson brocaded vest complete with an elegant gold pocket watch. His features were lean and thin as well as his eyes were faded blue, and his smoothly combed hair was snow white. His gaze had held steadily on the roughhewn man dealing the cards but as Sebastian stood by the table, his light blue eyes traveled upward with mild interest and he studied Sebastian.

"You got money, stranger?" he inquired.

Sebastian drew a handful of coins from an inner pocket of his long black duster, setting them down before him on the table. One of the twins immediately stood up, supplying him with a chair. He was barley seated before he inhaled a sweet scent. He arched a brow as he looked to his right. A sweet young thing, perhaps not-so-sweet and maybe even not-so-young, was perched on the edge of his chair. She wore a vivid, royal blue dress but seemed to be spilling out of it, she was so spectacularly endowed. Her hair was dark, her eyes were a bright green, and her smile was wide and warm and seemingly sincere.

He nodded to her, smiling wryly. He was oddly disappointed. He'd been hoping for the young singing boy. He shrugged to himself and tossed in his ante. "Deal me in, cowhand," he said softly.

The scar-cheeked cowhand did so. "Where you hail from stranger?" he inquired casually, the cards falling as he spoke.

"Here and there, " Sebastian replied casually, watching the cards fall.

"Where 'here' and where 'there'?" asked the smooth player in black. "And what are you doing out in this 'here' now?"

"It's a free country, last I heard," Sebastian said, glancing at the man, then watching the cards fall again. The old timer didn't look at his cards. "Is he playing?" Sebastian asked one of the twins.

"Sure. Old man turner dozes off now and then but me a Timmy check his cards for him. He's been doing okay tonight. He usually plays his best when he sleeps through half the game. Jimmy and I ain't doing so well. Neither is Scar there," he added, indicating towards the cowhand. He waved a hand toward the man in black. "It seems to be Johnny Durango's night tonight."

"Gentlemen," said the man who had been referred to as Johnny Durango, studying his hand and then. "There is a fine art to poker. You've yet to learn it."

"Ah, yes! There is an art!" Sebastian murmured, meeting Durango's eyes. Sebastian started to pour himself some whiskey. The buxom brunette woman at his side with the golden smile reached past him and poured for him. He nodded, picked up the glass. He lifted it to her. Her smile deepened.

"Thanks," he said.

"My pleasure. I'm Dulcie," she told him with a wonderful husky voice.

"You bet you are!" he murmured with sarcasm, studying his cards. He adjusted his hand, looking at the twin who had spoken to him.

"You boys regulars here?" he asked.

"Sure thing, we work for the place. Well, we came for the gold, but there weren't no gold in our claim, and so we're here."

"We worked for the old man!" His twin said softly.

"And now the old mans dead," volunteered the scar-cheeked cowhand with a shurg.

"We've worked for his partner as well, and his partners boss and we tough as nails," one of the twins said earnestly.

"Yeah, tough as nails," the other agreed. His voice was oddly a mixture of conviction and doubt.

"You're dealing, stranger," Johnny Durango said sharply.

"Bet's to you, Jimmy," Scar announced.

"Five dollars. And old man Turner will see me."

The second twin followed suit; Sebastian threw in five. "I raise you, gentlemen. Scar ten to you to stay."

The betting finished out, all of them remaining in the hand. Sebastian held three kings. He lost to Johnny Durango's three aces.

The game continued. Turner won a hand; the deal shifted around skipping Turner, who continued to doze, the only man at the table other than Johnny Durango to take the pot.

Sebastian hadn't been playing long when he discovered that the green eyed woman was giving away his cards. He managed to send her away and won a hand. When she returned, he kept his eyes on the man with the colorless blue eyes who had mastered the fine "art" of playing.

The art was in his sleeves. Watching him closely during several games, Sebastian saw that a pair of aces was easily, and often, begin shifted in and out of play from the man's shirt. When the play ended on the next game, Sebastian rose to take the pot.

"I beg your pardon?" Johnny Durango said coolly.

"My full house beats the three kings you had on the table," Sebastian said flatly.

"Why, how dare you, sir, how dare you!"

"Why I dare, Durango, because you've been cheating us blind!" Sebastian told him simply.

The man rose up, drawing his pistol. Sebastian struck it out swiftly, knocking the gun from the man's hand. Durango then leapt across the table, fists flying. Sebastian ducked and dived, catching his opponent in the gut, and crashed hard with him to the floor, where they rolled, entangled, toward the bar.

Sebastian had a good grip on his opponent's shoulder and was ready to drag Durango up with him when a searing pain burst across the top of his head as a bottle was cracked hard atop it. The earth begun to spin and blacken. He fought the threat of losing consciousness, turning to stare at a man who had been drinking at a table near them.

Sebastian didn't pass out. The fellow reached for another bottle, alarm rising in his eyes. Sebastian strode swiftly forward and punched him hard in the stomach. The man doubled over with a gasp, then quickly stood, a placating hand before him. He worked his jaw but didn't speak. His hand still out to ward off another blow, he stumbled from the saloon.

"What in God's name!" began a melodic but firm voice.

Sebastian spun on Durango again, toward the sound of the voice.

"Stop! Damn you, just stop where you are!" Durango rasped out.

Sebastian did stop, a brow raised. The man had seized hold of a young male.

The singer.

"Durango, you ridiculous bastard!" the young boy gasped out.

He was being held hard to Durango's side, half smothered by him, so it seemed, and turned slightly away from Sebastain. But he could still obviously tell that he was so...enchanting. Delicate locks of hair covered his face and Sebastian could still see so little of him. Still he felt that same tug of emotion that he had felt when he had heard the boy sing. He was shadowed by Durango's body and the darkness forming in the saloon of the twilight's coming, and the boy might have had the face of an ugly musk ox for all he knew, but at that moment, Sebastian didn't care. Durango was welcome to die quickly if he didn't let the boy go.

"Durango, you eager to go to hell?" he asked quietly.

Durango replied by slipping a very small pistol out of his sleeve, the smae sleeve that had held the aces, and leveling it against the back of the boy's head.

"Damn you, let him go!" Sebastian grated out.

"Tough man, the stranger who rides into town!" Durango said. "Kill me, I kill the boy."

"You'll be dead before your finger can pull the trigger!" Sebastian warned softly.

"Do you dare take the chance?" Durango asked.

"All right no more!" the young boy suddenly cried. "Durango you fucking bastard!" he shouted, suddenly slamming a backward kick into Durango that caused him to explode with a groan, releasing him. Sebastian made sure to make good use of the opportunity, and fired.

He hit Durango's hand, shattering bone. Durango screeched in rage and pain, but he was helpless. It was his gun hand that had been shattered, and his little pistol was on the floor.

Suddenly there was chaos. Durango's cohort who had wielded the liquor bottle against Sebastian's head was stumbling quickly as he could out the door. The twins were on their feet, hell, half the saloon's patrons were now up and cheering Sebastian on.

Everybody loves a winner, he thought a bit wearily.

Except the loser.

"You damned ass of a bitch!" Durango was shouting at him holding his bloodied hand. "You should have killed me, you should have finished it between us. You've just signed your death warrant!"

"I've signed lots of them, so I've been told," Sebastian said casually as if it were nothing. He turned to the twins. "Get the money he cheated off all of us, and get him out of here. And get me the damned manager, no, the owner. What the hell kind of place is this anyway?"

The buxom green eyed brunette sidled up behind him, giggling softly as she whispered, "Why, honey, it's a house of ill repute. A whorehouse. A damned nice one at that!"

"Are you paid to help white trash like that cheat honest men?" he asked her in return.

"I've yet to meet an honest man," Dulcie told him gravely. "You an honest man, stranger?" she asked sweetly.

"I should have your ass fired," he warned her, his voice still very low.

Dulcie smiled. "Honey, if I owe you, you should simply have my ass." She slipped on by him, all innocence, and he couldn't help but be disgusted. "I want to see the owner! Now!" Sebastian announced, his words a sharp command.

The singer of a boy who had so recently been in the hustler's grasp suddenly came forward. The crowd that had gathered around the twins as they dragged out Durango gave way instantly for the boy.

He was out of the shadows.

He didn't have the face of an ox at all. The boy stood in front of him, watching him, assessing him, dead still and silent, his chin held high with absolute dignity. The boy seemed angry. He has just saved the young man from the surefire promise of an early grave, and he seemed irritated. As if Sebastian, had somehow ruined the boys day.

The young man was dressed in black, an exquisite black shirt which rose chastely to the column of his neck, almost as if he were in mourning, to top it off a casual pair of black slacks. Nothing could be more concealing in style, yet the clothes hugged his waist and torso, and despite the circumstances surrounding his meeting with the boy, he felt a swift, sharp stab of desire...and something deeper that tugged at his soul, as his song had done.

The boy was of medium height, and his hair was a startling shade of navy blue. The boys eyes were bluer than the sky on the clearest, most radiant day. Sebastian couldn't quite determine his age, but if he had to guess, no older then 19, 20 maybe. The boy was beautiful, slim, graceful in his every movement, small boned, delicate, and yet with a look of wisdom and maturity in his eyes. The young male seemed to enchant Sebastian instantly. In fact, for long seconds he found himself speechless, then he became annoyed with himself for letting the boy unsettle him.

"A thank you might be in order," Sebastian told him.

Imperiously the boy arched an elegant eyebrow. "For what, sir? I could have handled myself quite well alone against Johnny Durango. And without causing half this travesty!"

"Durango was cheating. And he was holding a gun to your head."

"He wouldn't have pulled the trigger."

"Why not? Are you in league with him?"

"Of course not!"

"Half the place is, so it seems. The sheriff can look into it. I take it there is a sheriff in this armpit of a town."

"You don't need a sheriff," the boy said, his tone changing slightly.

"I don't? Well, then, I've asked to see the owner of this wretched whorehouse!" he stated harshly.

"So you have, " the young male replied coolly, smothering back a strand of silken hair that had been scattered across his face. "I am Ciel Phantomhive, the owner of this fine establishment!" he said with pride.

The young male wasn't what he had been expecting. Not in the least. And damn the boy, he had him again. His surprise must have shown in his face. And the boy smiled mirthlessly. "I am Ciel Phantomhive, sir, and I repeat, you do not need to draw the sheriff into this."

"Oh?" he inquired, smiling himself. He didn't want the law in. Had the boy been in the league with Durango? What else might it be? But how strange, he had the upper hand here suddenly. The young male was still irritated, no...downright furious. But the boy was going to have to do the right thing.

Grovel.

"Well, Ciel Phantomhive, " he said, leaning against the bar as he addressed the boy, his voice low again since it seemed they still had an audience, "this place is billed as a proper establishment for law-abiding citizens. I was cheated and attacked. Seems to me something should be done about it. "

"Seems to me you know how to take care of yourself!" Ciel murmured irritably.

"Seems to me I shouldn't have to."

"It's a nasty old world, sir. And you're in a damned rough part of it."

"Honest folk are entitled-"

"Honest folk aren't usually quite so adept with guns," Ciel quickly cut him off, all the while glaring at Sebastian.

"There's been a war on recently, hadn't you heard? And, boy, there isn't a single law in the land against a man being able to take care of himself. But I'm sure there are any number of laws against gambling establishments being on the take and hustling their customers. Then again, if you can't understand things from my view, I am willing to make my complaints to the sheriff or a marshal-"

"There's no need," the boy said smoothly, but again, there was that almost indiscernible note of unease in his voice. The boy did not want the law around.

Why not?

It didn't matter right now. All that mattered was that the boy didn't like to talk about the sheriff. And it was something that he could use.

"No need of the law..." Sebastian murmured.

"Finny!" the young male called, his voice rising as he addressed the young musician. "Give us your tune again, please. Gentlemen, return to your games!"

There was a slight grumbling from the men, cowhands, merchants, and businessmen alike, who had been trying to catch bits and pieces of their conversation.

"Gentlemen..." Ciel repeated. There was something about the way he said the word, Sebastian thought...as if the young male were a prince and the men were knights sworn to do his bidding. The tone of his voice could move mountains, so it seemed.

Sebastian gave himself fair warning that Ciel Phantomhive certainly did wield a power all his own.

The piano began to play.

Disgruntled, the men went back to their games.

Ciel Phantomhive directed his attention now to Sebastian exclusively. The young male didn't exactly grovel, but despite the acidity in the boys voice as he spoke, he said the proper words for the situation.

"We are, of course, deeply disturbed that you've had such a displeasing experience. We will be delighted to provide a night's lodging for you as our guest, and, of course, invite you to eat and drink at our expense as well. And I know that any of our young ladies-"

"Whores?" he inquired, unable to resist the temptation to lean in close to the boy and whisper the word softly in his ear, despite the music that now played and the conversations that filled the bar again. After all, despite the boys elegance and eloquence, Phantomhive's was a western saloon, and no amount of silk was going to change that.

The boy exhaled with a patient but oh so weary, patronizing, sigh. "Any lady here, sir," he emphasized, "will be glad to help make up for the experience you have suffered here this afternoon."

He turned from Sebastain, calling to the bartender, " Tanaka, a cool beer for this gentlemen, please!"

Tanaka was the very soul of propriety, just winking slightly as he set down the beer and then ambled along back behind the bar.

Sebastian sipped the beer, adjusted the rim of his hat, and stared at Ciel Phantomhive.

"Sir-" the boy had began anew with the impatience.

"All right," he said.

"Then-"

"I'll accept a night's lodging, and..."

"And?"

"I assume you've gotten a decent cook."

"Of course. Bardroy is the best."

"French?" he inquired with dry humor.

"Yes."

"Out here?" he said skeptically. "In the wild wicked west?

"Yes!" the boy snapped. "So then things are settled-"

"Almost," Sebastain said, then leaned comfortably against the bar, watching Ciel as he took another sip of the beer.

"What now?" the boy asked, his blue eyes narrowing.

"You offered me the companionship of a... lady."

"Yes. You've met Dulcie. You can meet the others-"

"I know who I want."

"Dulcie will be pleased-"

"I don't want Dulcie."

"Then-"

"I want you."

Ciel's blue eyes widened. He was startled, and perhaps just a little bit alarmed. For a second, Sebastian had the boy.

Quickly Ciel regained his composure. His lashes swept his cheeks, his chin tilted higher. "You don't seem to understand, perhaps you are confused? I am no lady."

"I am aware of that. But you are definitely the prince of the castle." he smirked when he saw more shock flash across the boys eyes from his teasing nick name.

"But-"

"You mean to tell me you came to own such an establishment as this by spending your life in a nunnery?

Ciel's eyes flashed with anger and narrowed again. "I mean that I do whatever the hell I choose to do, sir!"

He smiled, lifted his beer, took a long sip of it, and set the glass back down on the bar.

"Then, Ciel Phantomhive, I think that you should choose to be with me tonight," he told the boy. "Excuse me, I think I'll just see to my horse for the night."

He started to walk out of the saloon, a half smile curving his lip. The boy was going to follow him; he was certain.

Ciel did follow him. Sebastian had just come out and was loosening the girth on his bay, Joe, when he heard the boy pause behind him. His smile deepened. He didn't turn. He waited.

Ciel lashed out in a whisper. "I don't really owe you anything! You should be grateful for what you're being offered. It was a poker game, for God's sake. I'm not in control of the way men choose to play-"

"Really?" Sebastian said, pausing at the last and turning to the boy. "I think an older owner might have known what kind of shark was frequenting his establishment."

"Lots of sharks frequent lots of similar establishments!" Ciel returned angrily. An older owner? Was he calling him a child?

Sebastian shrugged. "Maybe. But you see, I was cheated at your place. And I'm willing to bring a complaint about it to the law."

Ciel paled.

"I can actually pay you-" Ciel started to say, but was cut off by Sebastian.

"What? You mean you aren't in the saloon business for the money yourself, Prince Phantomhive? I can call you that right?" he smirked teasing the younger boy.

Without responding to his question, Ciel continued, "In fact, I'd be willing to pay you a lot if you'd just go away!" Ciel stomped his foot.

Now Sebastian was all the more intrigued. Not that it mattered. He was not going away. Not for love or money or any other force on earth. Especially not now. Not since he had met Ciel Phantomhive and sized up the situation within the saloon. He was exactly where he wanted to be.

"It's not going to happen," he told the boy. "I'm in town for a while. Definitely for the night. I wouldn't miss the night to come at Phantomhive's for all the money on earth."

"What if I really could give you a lot of money?"

"I'd still be looking forward to my night with you. Ciel Phantomhive."

"What makes you think I'd be worth it?" the boy exploded.

Sebastian shrugged and allowed his gaze to roam up and down the black-clad length of him. The boy would be worth it. He was like a rose growing alone on a parched plain of dry dust. Elegant and radiant, yet seeming to burn with a wild inner fire. Sebastian was definitely intrigued by the thought of trying to break through the boys barriers to get at that inner fire. In fact, it seemed now that his own dead-set purpose was cast along an incredibly fascinating course.

There was no need, however, to let Ciel Phantomhive know just how compelling he found the boy to be. The young male already informed him that he did what he chose. Ciel was a confident and determined person, as well as a strikingly beautiful one. The boy could probably seduce heart, soul, and mind from not just women but from most men. Not to mention their hard-earned cash.

"I don't know that you're worth a wooden nickel, boy," he told Ciel casually, "but I am the adventurous type and-"

"How dare you-" Ciel began, his voice low and furious, his eyes flashing like sapphires.

"And I am extremely determined and tenacious," he finished, as if the Phantomhive boy hadn't interrupted.

"And you can go straight to HELL!" Ciel informed Sebastian as he turned to walk away from him.

He hadn't intended to follow the boy, but he did. He caught up to the boy's arm before Ciel could step up to the planked-wood sidewalk in front of Phantomhive's and swung the boy around to face him.

"In time," he told Ciel, "I might just oblige you and wind up in the devil's domain. But it won't be soon enough for your purposes. And you should be glad I am not a man who is easily offended. My pride could have been sadly bruised by such anoble prince as yourself refusing my heartfelt attentions."

"There isn't one damned heartfelt thing about you!" Ciel assured him. "And stop calling me a prince! It's sarcastic and annoying!" he added.

Ciel didn't try to wrench free of Sebastian. Though Sebastian could feel the wealth of fury that seemed to pulse all around the Phantomhive boy, and he was startled to realize that what had begun as an entertaining game with him was suddenly so much more. Sebastian's roads had often been long and hard, but he suddenly couldn't remember wanting someone more than he wanted this boy now.

He needed this one, he reminded himself. This boy was a step in the direction he wanted to go.

"Why are you so afraid of the law?" he demanded of him suddenly.

"I'm not!"

"You are."

"I'm telling you-"

"And you're lying, and on top of that, you're not doing half as well as you think you are. What happened in there today shouldn't have occurred."

"Men fight in saloons all the time-"

"Out on streets, if the saloon is worth it's whiskey. And they fight, they don't cheat!"

"Oh! So it's proper and legal when they blow holes in one another but when someone loses five dollars in a poker game-"

"The law can step in one way or another!"

Ciel fell silent, staring at him furious.

Sebastian lowered his voice. "You need help, boy, and you need it fast."

Now Ciel did jerk back from him, and put his hands on his hips. Much like a girl would, Sebastian thought. "You shot a gun from a man's hand-"

"And saved your life."

"Johnny never would have shot me."

"Because you're involved in the fleecing of your customers and your saloon girls?"

"My girls are not-"

"Oh, what the hell!" he swore. "At least one of your girls damned well was in on it!"

"So I had a little bit of trouble this afternoon. And you seem to think I need a dozen men about to-"

"I didn't say anything about your needing a dozen men. You need one man. One good man."

Ciel was again taken aback. Sure, men have made advances on him before. But he had become used to it and brushed it off. Men being with men were fairly common around this area. But still. Ciel looked at him in a sarcastic way. "And you're suggesting that should be you?" he inquired with amused disdain.

"Damned right, Ciel Phantomhive. You're damned right!" he told the boy. He turned around for his horse again. Ciel hadn't moved, he was staring after him. He knew it.

He loosed Joe's reins from the hitching post and smiled back at the boy. "But then, Ciel Phantomhive, you can make up your mind about that after tonight. You will be seeing me tonight."

"Not in your wildest dreams, you demon!"

Sebastian laughed softly, indicating a building up the street. "That's the sheriff's office up there?"

Ciel swore furiously beneath his breath and spun around.

"See you tonight, my beautiful nightingale!" he called after the boy.

Ciel went still and stiff, then turned back to face Sebastian, a guarded expression on his face.

"Sir, I'm telling you, you wont be seeing me! And I don't wish to leave things as they are-"

"You know, neither do I. Phantomhive's does have a certain reputation to maintain. I should go to the law right now to guard that reputation. Or else you're just going to have to listen to me. I'll have your word right now that you'll be seeing me later, or I'll walk right to the sheriff's office. Maybe Phantomhive's is in need of a thorough investigation."

The boy would have hit him if he'd been close enough, Sebastian thought.

"FINE!" the boy spat out. "You've got my word. But what if my word isn't any good?"

"It will be good," he promised the young male. "I'll see to it that it's good. By the way, my name is Sebastian Michaelis. And it's a name you are going to know very well."

"You think so?" Ciel commented back, voice dripping with sarcasm.

"I know so," he assured the boy. He tipped his hat to Ciel and turned about, leading Joe toward the public stables down the street.

He was aware that the boy watched him all the way.

He smiled grimly as he walked. It had all gone damned well, incredibly well. He had struck up a relationship, as it was, with Ciel Phantomhive, and it had been easier than he'd ever imagined, thanks to the fool card hustler. He had exactly what he'd come for and more. He was well on his way.

And yet...

Just what was behind the cool exterior of the perfect little silken prince who now ran the place? Why did he fear the law; what lay behind the sky blue beauty of those haunting eyes...?

Son of a bitch. Did it matter? He had his own purpose here. He kept the secrets of his past; the boy was welcome to his own. The boy's fear of the law had served him very well.

It didn't matter.

Yet suddenly, something did matter.

The night.

All the fires of hell and damnation seemed to be burning within him. Wickedly hot, yearning, hungry. Sebastian closed his eyes, and saw the boys face. Paused, and still seemed to feel his heat. He could even hear the echo of his voice, the song that had reached him the first time he entered the saloon.

It was all just a means to an end, he reminded himself impatiently.

Phantomhive's was a means to an end.

And the boy...

Ciel Phantomhive, willing or not, was miraculously aligned just to where he needed him to be as well, a means to an end.

No such sweet logic worked with him now. The fires continued to burn.

Yes, something mattered.

The night...

Sebastian could hardly wait for the darkness to come.

Alright. There you go, first chapter. All around this story will have close to 24 chapters. Maybe more. This story is to make you laugh and full of romance. A little bit of drama. I did check for spelling errors, sorry if I missed any.

Please review. If you want to ask me a question I will answer.

And Ciel is not a real prince for those confused. That is just a pet name Sebastian has given him because everyone seems to obey Ciel, and respect him a lot. And I know Bardroy is not actually French, but in this AU he is.

Also Sebastian is 24 and Ciel is 19.

Here is the song Ciel was singing, the chorus has something to do with the story, so I recommend you listen: Just copy and paste the link: watch?v=Zn9M_DQExtQ&feature=related

Or the song is called "Til The Casket Drops by ZZ Ward" :)