Disclaimer: I do not own Black Butler/Kuroshitsuji or any of its characters. They belong to Yana Toboso.

A/N: This story is based off a headcanon that could be disproven very soon. Oh well, fanfiction is for fun! Many thanks to Shadowclanwarrior for beta-reading this story :)


Undertaker slowly opened his eyes. Even through his extremely short-sighted vision, he could tell he was no longer in the human world. He blinked rapidly as shockingly bright light assaulted his eyes and rocked his head forward to protect them with his overgrown fringe. Metal restraints were locked firmly around his wrists and ankles to prevent him moving from the chair he had been bound to. They had been tightened to the point of pain, but Undertaker considered them with nothing more than mild amusement. Hee hee… the little grim reapers felt the need to tie me up sooooo tightly! They are desperate to not let me slip through their fingers again. How sweet.

The increasing volume of footsteps alerted Undertaker of his company. The combination of smooth soles, squeaky shoes and clacking heels made him grin. It was those three again. The three who had so kindly caught him.

"Aah, how nice of you to pay me another visit! Let's seeeeee…" He tilted his head to let his hair fall away from one eye. "You wanted to chat, yeeees?"

They emerged from the darkness and stood close enough for him to see them. William T. Spears, in his formal suit, as dull as a blackboard. Grell Sutcliff, looking at him from over the top of his glasses, a shark-toothed leer on his face. Finally Ronald Knox, the youngest, watching him with incredulity. Undertaker couldn't deny the strangeness of the situation. He had finally been caught after much effort. Undertaker remembered vaguely being Ronald's age – it was a long, long time ago – and being confused over how the reaper elders rarely showed any sign of fear on their faces, even in the direst situations. A giggle escaped him as he reminisced. He needn't have been confused.

Fear stemmed primarily from two sources: uncertainty and potential loss. Tied up in the grim reaper's prison, no punishment was beyond Undertaker's imagination. As for loss… you had nothing to fear when you had nothing to lose.

"If I were in your position, I certainly wouldn't be laughing." William adjusted his glasses with the end of his scythe. "You have been charged with…" He opened a black leather book. Undertaker shook his head. This was going to be a long list. He hummed to himself as William started to read out his many, many breaches of conduct.

"…deserting without asking for leave, consequently deliberately failing to collect souls from those on your 'to-die' list for fifty years, refusing to take a soul mentioned on your 'to-die' list…"

Undertaker flicked his fringe back over his face. His vivid green eyes started to glaze over. This feeling of unbearable boredom consolidated his reasons for leaving this world and never looking back.

"…keeping your death scythe without permission, assaulting three security officers to keep said death scythe…"

How could the younger grim reapers stand all these rules and restrictions? Undertaker stole a look at his other two captors. Young Ronald was looking at his watch. On his other side, Grell watched him hungrily, as if he was trying to undress his captive with his eyes.

"…tampering with human life with unnatural means and evading capture to face up to these crimes." William finally looked up from his book and stared at his hostage, as if expecting a response. Undertaker snickered weakly.

"Hee hee! Are you done?"

The book snapped shut.

"You will face grave consequences for your actions," said William sternly. "I can't recall any other grim reaper who has committed as many offences."

"Not even me!" Grell chimed in. "Compared to you, I'm a good girl!" He waltzed over to the chair Undertaker was tied to. With an almost graceful twist of his finger he flicked his prisoner's long silver fringe to the side. His Cheshire Cat grin widened even further as he peered into Undertaker's now completely exposed eyes. "Mind you, I do like a bad boy. Bad boys make my pulse rush! You look like you could be a lot of fun."

The fact that William was not reprimanding Grell alerted Undertaker of the limitless punishments he could be subjected to. He smiled at Grell, catching the redhead off-guard. Nothing will work. Will you degrade me? I have no dignity. Cause me pain? I have taken more than you could ever inflict on me again. Even if you kill me, I will only be changing to a different state, which could only be better than my current one. Though I don't think you can afford to kill me, can you, my little grim reapers?

William pressed the end of his death scythe to Undertaker's throat.

"I assume you know what we want from you. We need you to answer all our questions on how exactly you managed to reanimate corpses." Undertaker smiled.

"You're not going to ask whyyyyy?"

"I'm actually quite curious why he'd do it," Ronald admitted. He looked like he rather regretted speaking as William shot him a cold look.

"We do not need to know why. Our role as grim reapers is to efficiently perform our duty of collecting souls on the 'to-die' list. Nothing more. Motivation and emotions have no place in our job." He flicked his death scythe to press the clippers under Undertaker's jaw. "Besides," he added darkly. "You have to learn that there is nothing – nothing – which could justify these severe breaches of conduct."

Grell wiggled his eyebrows and raised his leg to place his high-heeled shoe on Undertaker's lap. He seemed to be the only one enjoying himself. Undertaker couldn't help but chortle softly on concluding that this silly, flamboyant grim reaper was far more intimidating than William could ever be, no matter how much the dark-haired man waved his death scythe about.

"So," purred Grell. "Are we going to have to do this the easy way…" Undertaker felt his heel digging into his thigh. "…or the hard way?"

Grell's painful flirting made 'the easy way' seem a lot more tempting, but Undertaker had made up his mind.

"Neither. That is noooot my price for information." His lip twitched in blissful anticipation. Grell lost his smile and kicked him in the leg.

"If you are seriously suggesting we should give you a 'first-rate laugh' to make you tell, I am going to scream! And then I am going to make you scream! Does that sound funny to you?" Undertaker smiled calmly.

"I wouldn't be harsh on yourself. You are the most entertaining reaper by a long way!" Grell looked insulted for a moment before smiling again. He leant close enough to Undertaker to dangle his long red hair in his face.

"Flattery doesn't get anywhere with me, bad boy."

"So boss, how are we going to make him speak?" Ronald asked warily. William drew back his death scythe and sighed.

"What is protocol for dealing with this type of delinquent is to leave him without food or water. The usual timespan is three days."

Ronald gulped. Through Grell's tumbling red mane, Undertaker could see the youngster looking at his bony hands with discomfort. Undertaker just smiled. He knew they weren't going to let him starve to death without gaining their precious information. It was just an unnecessary, uncomfortable and – this thought made him frown – boring waste of time.

"Are you sure that's for the best, sir?" Ronald said with a nervous smile. "He's powerful, sure, but he is an old man…"

"You cannot be soft on rule-breakers, Knox," William replied firmly. "You might not have bared witness to any serious punishments thus far, but now is your chance to learn. Depriving him is, as a matter of fact, one of the softest punishments." He pushed up his glasses again. Undertaker wondered why he didn't get a better-fitting pair, or hook his on a chain like Grell. "Our job is now to guard him as he reflects over what he has done and sees our reasoning. We will not speak to him or give him any distractions. Knox, you will be on guard duty today."

"But sir, I have a date tonight-!" William's death scythe struck him on the head, making him yelp.

"Appreciate the seriousness of the situation," William said with a glare. "This could be the turning point of grim reaper history, when we find out the true dynamics of human life. A pinnacle of understanding. Ronald Knox, your date does not matter."

Ronald looked put out, but nodded his head. William looked back at his other colleague, who was breathing nonsensical sweet-nothings down Undertaker's ear. Undertaker had stopped listening a while ago. Watching William Shakespeare's cinematic record had given him enough Romeo and Juliet to last him a few more years yet.

"Sutcliff," William said sharply, like a man calling his dog across a park. "We will take over Knox's guarding duties in twenty-four hours from now. He looked at his watch before walking back into the darkness. Grell abandoned Undertaker and skipped after him.

"You want to keep me company? Oh, Will!"

"I simply cannot trust you to not talk to him alone," was the monotonous reply.

Undertaker and Ronald met each other's eyes. Ronald sighed and disappeared into the darkness. He returned with a chair and sat down, resigned.

"Isn't your job so fun and liberating?" Undertaker asked him cheerfully.

The young reaper gave no reply. Undertaker leant back in his chair, feeling a huge bruise on his back as he pressed his spine against the edge of the chair. This was going to be a long three days. He looked around at his surroundings. A bright light gleamed down at him, shining on him like a spotlight. Everywhere else was a black mist. He was unable to see beyond the shadows.

"I can see why you want to work here! A job brimmed with glorious paperwork, charming colleagues and rewarding overtime-!"

"Can't you just go to your happy place or something?" Ronald moaned.

Undertaker looked back at Ronald, who had his head in his hands. The young reaper was clearly going to be a good boy and obey his boss by not talking to his hostage. Undertaker took one more look around the room and concluded that Ronald's advice was perfectly sound. He closed his eyes and took himself back to a better time…


He was back in his beloved funeral parlour, humming 'Jingle Bells' happily to himself as he tied red ribbons around coffins. The Christmas cheer at this time of year was contagious even for Undertaker. He took a step back, admiring his handiwork. Just like a Christmas present. Won't his family be pleased?

He turned his attention to the door as he heard a series of hesitant knocks. A smile stretched across his face. What fun, another guest! He quickly looked around for last-minute inspiration of a sinister prank to play on his poor visitor. An unfortunate, sizable spider crept too close to his hand. Perfect. A moment later, the spider was trapped in his hand, underneath his long sleeves. Very soon, it would be down his visitor's neck. He gleefully opened the door.

"Hee hee! I bid ye good tidings, my…" His words trailed off as he was met by Lady Claudia Phantomhive, the young wife of his regular customer, Earl Phantomhive. "My lady, what do I owe the pleasure?"

"G-good evening, Mister Undertaker," the lady said politely, closing her umbrella. "I'm sorry to call on you at this hour. Can I come in?"

She seemed nervous. This was the first time she had properly paid him a visit alone. Undertaker smiled.

"If you can walk, I imagine you can come in…"

"Oh, yes, of course. May I come in?"

"You may! Come join me in the London funhouse, Lady Phantomhive!" He giggled at her bewilderment as she followed him into the parlour. His giggling turned into hysterical cackling as he felt the spider trying to wriggle free from his enclosed hand. He set it down on the table. The mental image of her reaction was good enough for now.

Undertaker gestured for her to take a seat. She looked around and carefully seated herself on one of his festively wrapped coffins. He sat opposite her, grinning, his concealed eyes fixed on her.

"It's a surprise to see you without his lordship. What might have occurred, hmm?" Lady Phantomhive cleared her throat.

"I just wanted to report back to say that my husband caught the murderer of Lord Willis. I… came to thank you, Mister Undertaker. He could have not done it without your assistance."

From under his fringe, Undertaker raised his eyebrows. Someone was thanking him?

"It's all part of my job, my lady."

"Yes, but…" She paused before continuing. "I respect you working to help us. No one ever has to help anyone, but it's nice when they do."

Well, this was new. Someone with no expectations. Undertaker propped his chin on his hand, considering her. Lady Phantomhive had travelled out to his shop, alone, in the rain, to pay him a thank you he didn't even expect. The corner of his mouth quirked up.

"Well, for the right price, I am always willing to help." He bounced his ankle as he watched her. She finally returned a small smile, seeming more relaxed. His smile grew – he wanted her to be at ease. This realisation made him chuckle. Usually he got far more entertainment out of making his customers not at ease.

After a pause, the lady reached for her bag. Look, a noble who lifts a finger. She drew out a small biscuit tin.

"I tried my hand at baking the other day," she began. "Now, I swear I don't know how this happened, but…"

She held out the tin. Undertaker took it from her and opened the lid. What he saw made him made him nearly drop the tin in laughter. He quickly placed it next to him and let himself shake with uncontrollable giggling.

"They're BONE-SHAPED!" he screeched. He rolled backwards off his coffin, crying slightly with laughter. The concerned look Lady Phantomhive gave him set him off again. He struggled for breath. "That is too perfect! You, Lady Phantomhive, the demure bringer of death!"

"I didn't mean for them to turn out like that!" Lady Phantomhive shook her head, looking embarrassed.

"No, you might have meant something else," Undertaker grinned wickedly as he pulled himself back onto his coffin. "Your poor husband must be a hungry guard-dog. What better way to reward him than to give a dog a bone?"

He sniggered while she appeared to process this suggestion. Slowly, an amused smile crept onto her lips. Undertaker opened his hands to take back the bone-shaped biscuits.

"Are they for me?"

"Yes, if you would like them." She watched him with contented eyes as he crunched into one, his cheeks puffed out with pleasure. "No one else wanted to touch them. They thought they would die if they so much as took a bite. I promise I didn't poison them. I thought perhaps you wouldn't mind. Consider them a thank you gift."

"You must teach me how to make these," he replied, happily cramming another into his mouth. "They beat the ordinary rectangles any day of the week." Lady Phantomhive looked up at him hopefully.

"I would be welcome to come here? Are we therefore friends?"

Undertaker gulped down his mouthful. Friends with a human, hmm? That could be… entertaining.

"Perhaps? Given what I am, it would make a lot of sense to be friends with the bringer of death, wouldn't it now?"

Lady Phantomhive smiled.

"Then perhaps, as a friend, you would like to come to our next ball? To be perfectly frank, our social events could use some… humour."

Undertaker thought of a crowded ballroom, filled with humans involved in crooked dealings. No. That is dangerous territory. I might meet something more noxious than a human crook.

"I don't go to balls, my lady."

"…Oh." Her genuine disappointment surprised him. He bent his head to hide this fact. He had been serving as a grim reaper for so long, he shouldn't feel surprised anymore. To distract himself, he took another biscuit and twisted it in his hand.

"Your husband has come here alone countless times for information and he still struggles to admit to people that we are even acquaintances. Then here you come and declare our friendship instantly." He gave her a crooked smile. "Are you not afraid of being laughed at?"

"I don't care if I am laughed at," was her simple reply. Undertaker raised his eyebrows.

"I don't believe you. You're a lady from the noble realm – your very life depends on you not being laughed at."

Lady Phantomhive seemed to consider this for a moment.

"I think it's high time everyone lowered their expectations," she said softly. "A lady has to do this, a gentleman has to do that, an undertaker has to be this… does it really matter?" Undertaker had to pause himself before answering.

"Society as a whole thinks so, my lady."

Lady Phantomhive unexpectedly smiled.

"Well, it matters less to me. Perhaps having something to laugh at would do everyone some good. After all, think about the world…" She earnestly met his eyes through their curtain of hair. Despite the veil, she was looking right into them. "How sad it would be, should laughter disappear."

Undertaker opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again. He could not dispute that last. His companion stood up.

"I must be making tracks. I didn't even tell my husband I was going out." Undertaker came to his senses again and gave a small giggle.

"Of course. I expect he would throw quite the tantrum if he knew you were gone. What is that phrase your kind like to use? 'Absence makes the heart grow fonder?'"

"That's an optimistic way of describing it. It was nice to see you, Mister Undertaker."

"Yes… how… entertaining it was to see you, Lady Phantomhive."

She paused as she collected her bag.

"In future, when we are alone together as we are now, you might like to call me 'Claudia'. That is the name that really belongs to me." She looked at him expectantly. Undertaker realised she was implicitly asking for his name – his real name – in return.

"What do you think of my coffins?" he asked her, throwing off the question. "Aren't they pretty? Don't you think their families would be happy on receiving them all nicely wrapped for their funeral?"

Claudia looked at the brightly wrapped coffins. Her lip twitched up in a way which Undertaker recognised as a supressed smile. Or perhaps supressed horror.

"Yes. I'm sure they would be… delighted. You might have discovered what they secretly wanted for Christmas." She fiddled with her umbrella. "Well, until next time, Mister Undertaker."

"Until we meet again!" He felt his mouth spreading into a smile, a softer one than his usual twisted grins. "You are welcome any time… Claudia."