Okay, so here's my first attempt at a multi-chapter story. Written for angorianwolf, who thought up this idea for a fic. Enjoy!:)

Chapter 1

Ciel ran as fast as he could through the empty streets of London, bare feet hardly making a sound against the cold ground. The sun had long since gone down, giving the boy plenty of shadowed hiding spaces to take cover in. His breath came in short, terrified gasps despite doing his best to take deep, calming breaths, lest he have an asthma attack. He glanced back over his shoulder, relieved to find that no one was behind him. At least, not close behind him. He quickly rounded the nearest corner, slipping a bit from the snow-slicked street, and came to a stumbling halt in front of a large, wooden crate. He pried the lid open with what little strength he had left and swiftly climbed inside, placing the top back on as soon as he was in.

Inside, Ciel hugged his knees to his chest and shut his eyes tightly, focusing entirely on keeping his breathing deep and even. The tightening in his chest only seemed to worsen, though, and he couldn't inhale properly, wheezing terribly with every rapid breath he took. 'Oh no, not now! Not like this!'He clenched his fists as he struggled to breathe, beginning to feel light-headed and the pressure on his chest seemed to double. He gasped for oxygen, seeing stars dance behind his closed eyelids as felt himself slipping away. Before he could even form another coherent thought, he was dragged into unconsciousness and left fighting for his life inside of that old, dusty crate.

xXx

Grell hummed quietly to himself as he looked over the soul-collection list William had given to him earlier. His humming turned into a frustrated groan, however, and his shoulders slumped as he realized he must carry out a rather unpleasant task.

Reaping the soul of a child.

Grell always hated taking the lives of children away, seeing as how he couldn't even have one of his own, which he so desperately wanted. He didn't think it was fair, not for himself and definitely not the children. He glanced down again to read the cause of death. An asthma attack. Grell had to to blink back tears at this. It's one thing to die at such a young age, but to die because of something such as that? It just wasn't fair.

He gave a despaired sigh, tucking the list back safely into his coat and summoned up his massive death scythe, mentally preparing himself for the emotional turmoil ahead of him. He briefly considered asking William to exchange his list with another employee's, but decided against it. He had to get used to this and Will would probably refuse anyway.

He took a deep, calming breath and closed his eyes, focusing on sending himself into the mortal world, ready or not. He tried not to think too much about what he was about to do, lest he get any ideas. As soon as the strange, albeit familiar vibrations faded away from his body and his surroundings suddenly felt different, Grell opened his eyes to find that he had successfully transported himself into the sleeping town of London. He inhaled the fresh scent of cool, night air and began his journey in search of the poor child that would meet their unfortunate end tonight.

He pulled out his list once more to check the location of the kid, mildly surprised to find that the little one wasn't at home, or even in a building for that matter. An orphan perhaps? Grell began walking in the direction the child would be, keeping a very slow pace. He really didn't want to do this...

About fifteen minutes later, Grell found himself in the correct location of the kid, but with no sign of the little human. Furrowing his brow, he looked all around himself in better hopes of spotting the child. Oh, great, he thought bitterly as he failed to see the youth. The only things around him were a few old boxes and storage items. After a moment of thought, it finally dawned on him. In a crate?

He approached one of the old, wooden boxes, tapping his fingers on the lid nervously and biting his lip. It's okay, Grell. You can do this. He swallowed nervously, face and palms beginning to sweat. He held his breath and looked away as he gently pried the lid off of the crate, pushing it aside and letting it tumble carelessly to the snow sprinkled ground. He didn't want to look. He wanted to turn back and run, not steal the precious life away from a guiltless little child.

He knew he had to, though. This was what his job as a reaper was all about; reaping souls! Just do it, Grell!

Finally, after a long moment of hesitation, Grell, with bated breath, slowly turned his head back and looked down into the open crate. His eyes widened in shock as tears instantly gathered in them at the sight before him.

A young boy, no more than ten years old, lay completely still inside the wooden box with his arms still clinging loosely to his legs and his head rolled to the side. His eyes were closed and his lips and fingers were a light shade of blue, either from lack of oxygen or the cold, Grell couldn't tell. The only clothing he had on was a baggy pair of sack cloth pants with holes and tears in the fabric. What really caught the reaper's attention, however, was the child's face. He was absolutely beautiful, one of the most stunning children Grell had ever seen. Pale, smooth skin, soft and even features, and those eyes! Even without seeing them open, Grell could see they were big and with long, charcoal lashes. The boy's hair was an odd, grayish-blue color, but pretty nonetheless, with shaggy bangs hanging in his eyes.

The moment Grell saw him, he knew he couldn't let him die. Tears were falling freely from his eyes now at the thought of what he was supposed to be doing, his reason for seeking out the child in the first place. No, he absolutely couldn't, no way.

Grell blinked a few times and shook his head slightly in an attempt to get his thoughts straight. The boy was alive, but from what Grell could see, death wasn't far off. He need to get him someplace safe and warm. And fast.

Grell bent forward and placed both arms under the unconscious youth, carefully lifting him out of the box and holding him close against his chest. He smiled sadly down at the boy, hugging him tighter and thinking of any place that he could possibly take him for the time being. He couldn't bring him back to the Library just yet; William would no doubt find out. He looked up then...and found his answer. A shop across the street had the lights on still, despite the late hour. The sign loomed eerily over the door, rattling gently with each passing breeze.

Undertaker.

Grell had never met the man personally, but had heard talk of a retired Shinigami leaving the Library in favor of working as a mortician in London. He decided to try his luck and approached the shop's entrance, the boy carefully cradled in his arms. Not bothering to knock-which he couldn't have, anyway-, Grell leaned one shoulder against the door, leaning heavily against it and pushing it open by force. The door noisily swung open, creaking as it's hinges protested against the harsh treatment. Grell stumbled inside, quickly scanning the room for the shop's owner and tightening his hold on the fragile little body protectively.

"Heh, heh, come in~..."

xXx

tbc.

A/N Okay, this chapter was a bit short, but I promise they won't all be like that.
Thank you for reading and please tell me what you think:) I will do my best to try and update frequently, so stay tuned!