Based of of Charles Dickens' "A Christmas Carol." I don't own either the book or Kuro.

"Sir," a weak voice calls out. "Please, sir!" Feet clad in only strips of cloth bound by cord run after the well-dressed man. Her brown hair whips against her face in the wind as she runs, exposing the horrible mess on the left side of her face where an eye should be. A tin void of coins is clenched in her palm, cold metal biting the skin. "Sir!"

By some miracle, the well dressed gentleman turns around. His glare, terrifying even with only one clear, blue eye, bites the poor beggar worse than the metal. The boyish face does little to dull the gaze. She flinches slightly at his look of disgust, a voice inside her yelling at him for the hypocrite he is. But then, hope ignites in its place. 'His eye is worse then mine. He'll take some pity on me and give me some coin, surly!'

The tin is held out in front of her, arms sticking awkwardly from her too small shirt. "A coin, please, sir?" she asks, the hope inside radiating off with so much power it's a wonder the snow doesn't melt around her.

The tin is swatted from her hand into the snow covered walk way by the man's gloved hand. She can only stare blankly as her brain works to figure out how this situation turned out so different than her expectations. "Get that dirty thing away from me, you filthy beggar." Contempt flies from him as she hurriedly grabs her container and presses it to her flat chest. "If you want money, then do what us humans do and work, slug." One last scowl, and he's off.

Doll crumbles to the ground, shell shocked at being called less than human. Tears spring to her eyes as the insult cuts her deep. Soon, she is weeping bitterly, uncaring of the looks of disgust and pity she receives.

"May ghosts haunt you, you slimy git!" she screams to the fridged air long after the man has disappeared.

+…+

'Stupid beggars!' Ceil Phantomhive thinks savagely as he strolls up to the small toyshop he owns. 'Shrewd slugs that sway the faint hearted with made up stories, or force people into positions that would make them seem heartless if they were to refuse.' His mind flashes back to the genderless thing that had followed him into a part of the street many people gather. Had Ciel possessed any kind bone or ounce of affection for his reputation, he would've given a coin. A small chuckle escapes him. 'Too bad I could care less.'

"Ciel!" He looks up and sees too late the danger that is his 'best friend' blocking his way. "Merry Christmas, you grumpy old scrooge!" Soma stands in front of his shop, clothes a ridiculous clash of red and green. His strange purple hair up in its usual ponytail and dark skin only make him stand out more in the white backdrop. With golden bracelets, it's a wonder he wasn't robbed on the way.

"What's so merry about it?" Ciel grumbles. "And why the bloody hell are you here? Come to borrow money now that you've sunk so low?"

Soma's smile doesn't waver at the tone colder than the snow on the ground. "It doesn't matter how much I have, just that I am happy with the one I love." His golden eyes fill with warmth as he thinks about his loved one, but Ciel scoffs at the moon-eyed look that 'only fools would wear so proudly.'

"Humbug."

The taller man cocks his head to the side. "What? Humbug? Is that a type of insect that hums?" He bounces up and down in a child like way. "You must show me this insect!" Soma demands.

'Stupid Indian. Why does he insist on bothering me? I work with him one time on his toy design and, suddenly, it's like we're family!' He delivers an icy glare. 'Can't he take a hint?'

"Never mind." Soma shakes his head, sending the snow that had built up on top to the ground. "Come visit Agni and I for Christmas Eve. It will be our first time celebrating, and he's making his curry. We'll also wait up for the fat robber in the red suit that leaves instead of taking!"

"Like I would waste my time with you," Ciel scoffs, crossing his arms defiantly. Soma pouts and moves forward from his position in front of the store. 'Just a little more,' the bitter owner thinks silently, as if his thoughts could control the other. 'A little more and I can make a clean break.'

"Why not? I know you'll be alone this year," Soma begins, moving forward to speak deeply with his 'friend.' "No one should be alone on Christmas!" he declares loudly, causing people in the streets to regard him curiously before continuing on.

Ciel glares. "I am." He stomps around the Indian, making sure to kick the snow back onto him as he walks. "You do not know me, nor do I know you." He yanks open the door to Funtom and continues without looking back at Soma. "If you've ever felt a spec of respect for others' wishes, you will keep your distance!"

"Stop!" Soma commands, pointing his finger to the other and standing like royalty. He looks like a village idiot. "You will listen-"

Slam!

The Phantomhive sighs and rubs his fingers to his temples before hanging up his coat and hat. His only worker in the original Funtom Company sits diligently at his desk that has somehow become colored like a candy cane, demonstrating once again why he deserves the name 'Joker' Noah. Ciel has long since given up trying to get him to act his age, even though he is the older of the two.

"Ciel~!" Soma whines next to him, pressing his face to the large window displaying toys. "Let me in~! Come on; It's Christmas! Be Merry!"

He can hear Joker's laugh from behind him. "Smile here will be merry when hell freezes over!" he yells, still not looking up from his work, bony hand writing smoothly across the page. Smile is the annoying nickname the man has for his boss.

"Go away!" Ciel yells, snapping closed the shade. He will open it back up in a few minutes as Soma is easily distracted. Keeping the window closed too long could hurt his profits since most will be running around trying to get last minute toys. 'If I'm lucky, that idiot will run into traffic to retrieve a coin, and I'll make some good sales today,' the owner thinks idly.

A chuckle from behind earns another frosty glare. Unique purple eyes with think black lashes that are somewhat covered with shocking red hair stare back good-naturedly. The pen still doesn't pause. "You should be more kind, sir."

Ciel doesn't answer, too busy staring at the bright yellow bowtie gracing the neck of Joker. Well, he's actually staring at all of the completely mismatched clothes. "You look like a mad man."

'I feel like a mad man in here,' Joker thinks bitterly. 'This is a toy store! I was expecting joy and candy, not horror and dust bunnies.' Out loud, he responds quite differently. "If I am a mad man, what does that make you for employing me?" He doesn't give him a chance to answer. "The point, sir, is he," a finger is jabbed to the shade, "is probably one of the only people that will ever mourn you if you were to die."

As one can imaigine, Ciel Phantomhive was not the most well liked person in London, even if his store was the most popular. His toys atttactred everyone strong enough that his habit of smiling didn't chase away all who wanted his products. Now, if he were to stay out in the front of the store, we'd have a different story on our hands. Since all sales are left to Joker, well, Funtom has only gained money under the clown's employment. Not that Ciel would ever admit to that.

Ciel smirks at his worker. "And how would you feel?" he challenges with eyebrows raised high.

"Well of course I'd be sad. Who would give me money then?" Joker is very smart under all that clowning; how else would he be able to keep all of his family alive and together? Jobs are as hard to come by as grass in a snowstorm. His paycheck usually pays for dinner. If Ciel dies, the Noahs die with him.

The short Phantomhive opens the shade, relieved to see no pesky Indian waiting for him, yet disappointed to see no corpse in the road. He moves passed his employee without pausing, totally indifferent to his earlier comment, into his back room to count the money he has gained and work on his new toy design. 'Joker is not as stupid as he looks', he muses, however, in the solitude of his back room. The rough sketch sits untouched on his desk as he weighs the pros and cons of making Joker his new partner. Business would boom of word got out he now helped run the store, but Ciel can't have him get a big head...

In the end, Joker is destined to stay at the same desk. After all, if Ciel was to give him a better position, more money would need to be given. God forbid that happens.

+…+

"Sir, may I please talk to you?" Joker asks in an uncharacteristically timid voice as he fiddles with his crazy bowtie, eyes fixed to the floor. The snow from the open door floats in, but he doesn't shiver, already used to extreme cold.

Ciel turns to face him passivly from his position at the door. "Go on."

A dry swallow. "You see, Christmas is coming…and…" Joker hates as he stumbles over his words. He finishes in a hurry. "I'd-like-the-day-off-along-with-a-slight-payraise-to-help-my-family!" He takes a deep breath, and his crimson face reverts to its original pale look.

"No." Quick, precise, and to the point. Just like a knife. It hurts just as much.

Joker feels anger. He has worked for the horrible, bitter man for years and never asked for anything, but at this one small favor, he says 'no?' "But-"

A glare cuts him almost as much as Ciel's voice. "I will not pay you for no work. Here is your usual pay." He drops three precious gold coins into Joker's hand. "You will be here at your usual time. Do I make myself clear?"

Even though Joker towers over his employer, he seems to shrink under his voice. "Yes sir." The door slams loudly, making him flinch in the silence as he gazes sorrowfully at the few coins that could provide a fairly good dinner, but no presents. 'I'll just tell them Dagger told Santa he was good this year, and the fat man died from laughing so hard. They'll believe me, right?' But Joker knew that none of them had believed in Santa for a long, long time.

+…+

'The nerve!' Ciel rants as he briskly walks home, shooting dirty looks to all who dare glance his way. 'I pay him for his work, as you should, and he wants more for free? Ha! It seems I was wrong in thinking he was more than a common fool, much like these other people.' His eyes move to look disgustingly at the other humans blocking the walkway. A child starts to cry. 'At least Alois had sense about him, but it does him no good six feet under.'

Alois Trancy had been the best, if not the most sadistic, business partner Ciel had ever had. His golden hair and light blue eyes attracted all the right attention, causing many women to be draw to the store and leave with a toy the man had found 'charming and wonderful.' Of course, under the beauty was one of the most twisted beings known to man. Had a child ever sneezed on him, he would kick them, or 'it,' as he referd to them. Had a women ever tried to kiss him, it's likely he would've slapped or even blinded the girl.

Ciel goes to the usual tavern for dinner and lets a mood of contentment wash over him as his usual dinner appears before him. His mood lifts even higher as he takes a bite if its new desert: chocolate cake with brownies mixed in topped with rich vanilla icing. He leaves the usual small tip that makes the workers curse his name and moves into the night.

Frozen to the core even in his well-woven coat, Ciel finally makes it to his house, cursing the darkness that had fallen for making the journey harder than it could've been. He fishes the key from his pocket and looks up to the knocker that has always been on the door. But…what? There's a face in the knocker. One with golden hair and light blue eyes.

He stares evenly back, wondering if the workers at the tavern had finally gotten revenge on him by spiking his cake, but the face seems to disappear the harder he looks. Ciel dismisses the experience as he opens the door and walks inside, ignoring the way his blood has run cold. The door is quickly locked behind him, as well as all the windows in the house. The lights, however, are turned off as he walks to his room in the silence that seems more suffocating than comforting tonight.

'It was just because I was reminiscing earlier,' he convinces himself as he changes to his oversized nightshirt used as his nightclothes. 'Alois is buried. I saw it myself! My brain is so worked up from considering Joker as my new partner that it showed me Alois since I was compairing the two.'

A candle is lit instead of a light bulb, as candles are much cheaper, while he finishes locking the door and window leading to his room. He sits the candle next to his bed. When the flame suddenly burst up as if a sudden gust has hit it, Ciel can only think of Alois' ghost being the cause at first. "Humbug," he mutters to himself, grabbing the candle in one hand. What it illuminates makes him almost drop it in surprise.

Alois himself is standing near his bedroom door, purple jacket frayed from weather, white button up missing buttons, and long back pants caked in mud. His golden hair seems pale white, but his eyes hold the madness they had in life. Caged all around his body are broken tea cups, toys with grotesque expressions, keys, moneyboxes, and a large tea box. Ciel can see the pattern on the door through him, as well as the still secure lock.

The first thing that popped to his mind finds its way to the air. "What the bloody hell happened to you?"

Alois fixes him with a look of amazement. "I fucking died. What the bloody hell do you think happened?"

Ciel gives him a glare. "So you are Alois Trancy, my old business partner?" At the ghosts nod, he lets out a laugh. "Right. And I'm an Earl of England with a demon for a butler."

The specter sighs as me moves over to the disbelieving male and throws his arms around his neck. The limbs are colder than snow on Ciel's shoulders, but don't sink into his flesh. "Ciel~," Alois breaths dreamily, "you are just as sarcastic, mean, and wise as I remember. You doubt my identity?" The other pales at the ghost's evil look. "Then, do you remember this?" He leans forward, leaving Ciel completely frozen as whether or not he'd been able to push him away. When a tongue licks his ear, however, instincts take over, and he goes right through Alois!

"Hey, don't go inside me like that!" it snaps, turning to stare down the shocked man lying on his stomach. "At least ask permission first!"

An image of a drunk Alois a few years before his death doing the same action snaps to Ciel's mind. 'Oh yeah, that's Alois,' he thinks as he pushes himself to his feet. 'Only he could make something like this so perverted. Or,' he concludes suddenly, 'that cake did get to me.'

"Yes, it's just the cake," he repeats out loud. A finger is pointed accusingly at the ghost. "You are a figment of the drug those workers put in my cake." The look on his face is victorious, like he finally solved the ultimate puzzle. Alois is slightly less enthusiastic.

"All right you piece of dog shit," he intones, voice worse than Ciel's could ever be. "Sit down on your goddamn bed and listen to this mother fucking warning I have to give you. Now!" he screams when the other doesn't immediately take action, making his chains rattle. The candle flares again, casting shadows that the dolls on his chains catch in a nightmare inducing way.

Ciel has never moved so fast in his life.

A noise of annoyance escapes the ghost. "Finally." He gives a glare to the waiting man sitting on his bed. "Now listen good, because I am not repeating myself." He waits for Ciel's nod before starting his tale.

"Believe it or not, every human in this world must have his spirit walk, or interact, among other people. Dumb rule, but what can you do?" Alois rolls his eyes. "Thanks to this lovely little rule, if that spirit doesn't do so in life, the poor bastard is forced to do so after they kick the bucket. Apparently, they're supposed to be tortured by the fact that they can see what they could've had but can't now. Honestly, I saw it more as a boring stage of life…until I met him." A sigh of lust escapes Alois as he dances around the room. "His eyes are a cold amber that freezes worthless bugs in their tracks, unsoftend by the glass in front of his gaze. Hair that reminds one of a dark, endless nothing entrancing the living and dead both! And that cold indifference." He claps twice. "O lé!"

'So death does make one more literate and wise.' Ciel clears his throat. "Why is a raven like a writing desk?"

"Why the hell would I know?" Alois responds. "Back to my reason for being here." He comes to stand next to Ciel. "No matter how much a yell and rattle my chains, I can't catch his attention. Had chains not held me down, I could've been reborn in the time of my choosing. I could've been near that man." He half-heartedly tugs the chains. "But it is no use."

"Why are you chained in the first place?" Ciel asks, somewhat sore his dead business partner that sounds like a schoolgirl is interrupting his sleep.

"I made this-" Alois begins.

"Then don't complain," Ciel responds.

"-without knowing in life," he finishes with a glare. "Shut up; I'm not done." His chain is fingered as he talks. "It was made link by line, yard by yard. I made it off my own 'free will' and wear it of the same 'free will.' Does it look strange to you, or frighten you?"

The slightly sick look on the living man's face more than answers for him.

"Would you like to know the length of your own solid chain?" Alois asks with a sadistic grin that would make a full-grown man run for mother. "It was as long as my own the years ago I died! Oh, how it chokes you now!" A gleeful laugh resounds in the dim room. "It is truly the most horribly cold thing I have ever seen in my life! Just think, you will be unable to rest while dragging that chain behind you all the while! Your noble shoulders will curl under the weight, and your pride will crumble before you!"

Ciel looked to Alois' own chain that disappeared into the dark, and this blood froze again. To wander the Earth with nothing for eternity wearing a chain longer than that ghost's…there is no need for a hell with a punishment such as this.

Still…

"You must've traveled far in those years."

Alois lets out a cheap laugh. "This chain isn't the only thing that binds me. I am forced to see what others do 'good,' regardless of my own will. I must 'see the life that I wasted' on a daily basis!"

"'Wasted?'" Ciel asks. "But you were a good- okay, somewhat decent- man of business," he observes, starting to think of his own fate.

"Ha!" Alois laughs. "Conning men was my business! Mercy and charity was what was supposed to be my business! If I had not been so underhanded, just like you, this chain may have been light enough for me to escape! I could've been someone else!"

A clock echoes in the distance, and Alois cusses. "My time is almost gone, and I have to get this point across. After observing you-"

"Creep," Ciel mutters.

"-for a year," he continues unabashed, "I am here to tell you tonight that there is a chance for you to get away from your wonderfully wicked chain...and that you might want to get that mole checked out. But still, you are one lucky bastard," he mumbles.

"Thanks so much," Ciel responds icily. 'This should be easy.'

Alois holds three fingers in front of the eye-patched man's face. "Three spirits will haunt you, each more terrifying than the last."

"I'd rather not," is the other's response as he grabs his covers and curls on his side.

"You'll be stuck with me for all eternity," Alois whispers in his ear.

Ciel sits up fast. "Tell them to come here pronto."

There is a pout on the ghost as it reports, "The first will be here tomorrow at one, and the second will follow suit the next night. The third will arrive at the last stroke of twelve." Alois sighs dramatically. "Remember what has happened here, Ciel, and do not look for me, f-"

"I won't," he waves to the door. "You can leave."

A look with little fire meets his. Alois backs away, the window behind him opening wider with each step as he beckons Ciel over with one of the most serious expressions he has ever seen on the usually smiling or scowling man. He complies out of curiosity.

The window is soon wide open, chill coating the room. The specter holds up his hand to stop Ciel's footsteps so the wails and moans, the curses and the regrets, the sorrows that could crumble an empire and the hopelessness its people would feel as it feel, float in and root themselves in his brain.

It was a sound that, just for a moment, made Ciel Phantomhive's expression give way to naked fear.

Despite the horror, curiosity still wins out. Ever so slowly, he moves to look out the window. Ghosts float into the air, making a eerie light show in the inky night. Everyone moves restlessly and wear chains similar to Alois'. Some are even chained together, such as the triplets with plum hair that pass by. He csn see a woman dressed in a red that showed even after death reaching for a man dying from some unknown disease, yelling how the people around him could save his life. A pitiful wail escapes her as she drifts away, unable to help.

'Remember,' Alois' voice whispers into her ear, curling like smoke into his brain. The lights soon fade along with the noise. It's soon just another night's appearance.

Ciel closes the window and looks for Alois, but he his no longer there. He moves over to his bedroom door after relocking his window to see it's still locked tight. Fatigue and exhaustion crash down on him, and he stumbles over to bed, the invisible world still fresh in his mind.

He collapses onto bed, the covers not even touched before he sleeps.