A/N: Hi, y'all! My first Black Butler fic, I'm so excited! This takes place around 2016, when Crowley is still alive (before the Season 12 finale). It also follows the events of season 2 of Black Butler, when Ciel was turned into a demon, and Sebastian was forever bound to him, yada yada.

I'm still not sure whether we, as fans, are supposed to pretend season 2 didn't happen, or... what?

Whoops! Ciel was turned into a demon at the end of season 2! What's this in Book of Circus? He's human again?! What?!

Ugh. Someone please explain.

Also, if anyone's willing to beta for me, I would really appreciate it! PM me if you're interested!

Disclaimer: I do not own Kuroshitsuji or Supernatural.


Ciel Phantomhive frowned at his butler of around one hundred and thirty two years, bothered by the issue of these... Winchesters. And, more specifically, and, even more bothersome, was the fact that Crowley had not yet dealt with them.

To put it simply in the thoughts of our Earl of Phantomhive, Fergus MacLeod was neither fit nor worthy to sit on the throne of hell. Ideally (and obviously. Like, come on, who else would be a fit king?), Ciel himself would be the king, and he could do away with Crowley, the Winchesters, and all demon opposition as to who the king should be, all in one fell swoop.

Nothing was impossible with Sebastian Michaelis at your side. Or rather, it wasn't supposed to be. When you're dealing with normal humans, that's when Sebastian was unbeatable.

Trying to deal with other demons was when it got complicated.

Admittedly, Sebastian was among the elite of demon-kind. He was far superior to almost any demon, even amongst a group. The only demon he would not have stood a chance against was Abaddon, and maybe, just possibly, Crowley.

Ciel didn't think so, though. There was a very high chance Sebastian could just stick Crowley with one of those fancy angel blades and have done with it, but Ciel didn't want to risk it just then, as the very same thing might just happen to Sebastian. And there where would Ciel be?

Hell, the kid could barely dress himself, even a hundred and thirty odd years later. Sebastian, snide bastard he was, would never let it go, even if Ciel did learn.

"Do you remember, young master?" He would ask in that irritatingly smooth voice. "Remember when you couldn't so much as dress yourself? Oh wait! But that hasn't changed at all, has it?"

It made Ciel more than a little indignant every time the bastard brought up the subject, but still he made no effort to learn. Why bother? The smug demon would always be there to do it for him, and as long as they had a forever, why the hell not?

Anyway, back to the problem of the Winchesters.

They were seriously beginning to try Ciel's nerves. Stories flitted through the underworld, were whispered in the ears of the supernatural's most dangerous, warnings to stay the hell away from America and the Winchesters.

Well, and to stay away from England as well. Ciel winced just at the thought of it. Those Men of Letters had not been kind, especially to his poor manor. For the second time, the Phantomhive Estate was burned to the ground, except this time, not even Sebastian could rebuild it. He didn't get a chance to, not with the Men of Letters watching. Ciel and Sebastian couldn't even get back into the country, the ports were so well guarded and warded.

Oh, the frustration. Having to move to America had not been pleasant, especially with keeping an eye or two over a shoulder or two, looking out for any stalkers from England, or hunters from America.

The key to staying alive in America was not causing a fuss. The Winchesters, while dangerous, seemed very slow-witted. It could take them ages to catch onto anything demonic unless it was shoved into their faces.

And so two demons could successfully live quietly in the U.S., without attracting any unwanted attention, and no hunter within a hundred miles (the irony here being that the place Ciel had chosen to settle in was Topeka, Kansas, where, if you'll remember, the Winchesters' bunker was located) to hunt them.

Sebastian, predictably, soon grew rather impatient with this life style, though he certainly showed no sign of it. With no dim-witted servants to order around, and relatively small (in comparison to the Estate) quarters to look after, life was very slow indeed. At least, it was until the Hell Gate in Wyoming was opened.

Quite a lovely experience it was for Sebastian, being immersed in his own kind (demons that weren't his bratty master) once again. Only, he discovered one thing: these demons were quite different from himself.

They no longer devoured souls, but delivered them to the King, who placed them in hell. Really, it was a waste of a good snack. The whole reason Sebastian had even signed his contract with his current master in the first place was because he wanted Ciel's soul, which, while already dark, could have been steeped in darkness a while longer.

Really, that was what made a soul taste good. The darkness gave the soul a slightly...well, how should Sebastian put it? An almost sweet/sour taste to it. It was quite tasty.

But now, Sebastian could eat no souls. He would never get his master's, and he didn't get any other unless Ciel told him he could. Which was really frustrating, as the brat liked to torture him for sometimes decades at a time.

Oh well. There was no working around it, and there was no disobeying his master.

However. There was still the problem of Crowley and the Winchesters. The latest problem the Winchesters had caused, to Sebastian and Ciel's knowledge, was the Darkness. Releasing the Darkness had been a fool's move, even for the two Winchesters- who seemed to be complete screwups, however dangerous.

That was about the time Ciel decided to put an end to the nonsense.

Ciel had only met Crowley once, at the auction Plutus had held which contained the Word of God. He had been in the middle of tracking down the very last piece of the Hope diamond, in an attempt to keep the pieces from causing any more trouble.

Crowley seemed to recognize him the moment they met.

"Ah, Lord Phantomhive! I can't say I was expecting to see you in a dump like this."

The Brit had strolled right up to Ciel, avoiding any and all pretenses. Ciel had felt Sebastian tense up behind him, though whether it was for alarm or hatred, he wasn't sure.

Ciel's one visible eyebrow rose above the string attached to the eyepatch. "And who exactly are you?" He asked imperiously, using the tone he would have used with rude lords a century ago.

A smirk appeared on the man's face, and he dropped a small, mocking bow. "Ah, yes. I'd forgotten we haven't been formerly introduced. Crowley, King of Hell."

Ciel's eyes narrowed, and a dangerous smile crossed his lips. "You mean you're the fool who's letting Metatron run around with the power of God? Who still lets the Winchesters run free and unchecked?"

Crowley wet his lips. "They serve a purpose, Lord Phantomhive." His eyes flickered nervously to Sebastian, who Ciel had no trouble believing was looking more than a little frightening at the moment. He smirked at the thought.

"What purpose?" Ciel demanded, taking a step closer. Crowley, King of Hell, flinched back from the demon who still looked like a child, though he tried hard to make it look like a simple shift in weight.

"To continually ruin the world? To continually bring it to the brink of destruction because of their unhealthy obsession with each other? When does it end, Crowley?"

Crowley seemed to wince, then he straightened. There was the bearing of a king one might expect. That bearing wasn't there before. His features emptied, and his eyes turned cold.

Ciel smirked again, amused by the sudden change in attitude.

Crowley glared at him, and Ciel looked back easily. "The Winchesters serve a purpose," Crowley repeated. "My purpose. Whether they realize it or not, the Winchesters are under my control."

The older demon's eyes narrowed, and he leaned down to look the Earl right in the eyes. "You needn't worry your pretty little head about it, my lord."

And with that, the demon turned and walked away. Ciel stared after him thoughtfully.

"Sebastian," he said softly.

"Yes?"

"Let's keep an ear out for Crowley, hmm? I want to keep an eye on him. You see, I don't quite believe he's a suitable king. We shall have to see what he does in the future." Ciel's single visible eye flashed.

Sebastian bowed. "Yes. My lord."

Now, Ciel thought back to that moment, deciding that his judgement had indeed been correct, and Crowley was not a suitable king. In years past, Crowley had allowed Abaddon to take the throne from him, the Winchesters to kidnap and nearly turn him human, that ass, Metatron, to run amok, and more Ciel was sure even he didn't know about.

Yes. It was time to take the throne, Winchesters or no. If Ciel succeeded, which he had no doubt he would, then it would only further prove that Crowley was unworthy.

Ciel looked back at Sebastian, who seemed to have been waiting for orders. "I think," he said slowly. "That is time to take Crowley's throne. He has sat there long enough, and has somehow managed not to destroy the planet. He continues to let the Winchesters run about, killing demons and putting the world on the brink of destruction over and over again."

Sebastian stared at him, waiting. There was a hint of that sly smile on his lips, as if he knew what Ciel was thinking and where his thoughts were going. And after a century, Ciel wouldn't be surprised if this was the truth.

Ciel's single blue eye glinted in the light. "It's time to take the throne."

Sebastian pulled his long, low bow, the smirk spreading across his features.

"Yes, my lord."