I woke up to the sound of the horses hooves clacking on the cobblestone streets of London in the back of the coach. Marcelina started stirring in my belly, kicking her feet around. I put my hands around my bellybutton, feeling her push me back, "Good morning to you, too, baby girl…"

"Lumi…?" Sebastian chimed, "Did you sleep well?"

"I think we both did," I cradled her, "Where are we going?"

"Your doctor," he parked, "We're here."

I jumped down from the coach and stared up at the brick building, "Sebastian, this is a funeral parlor…"

"Yes."

"I thought you said I was seeing a doctor."

"I never said he was a doctor."

"Hold on," I stopped him before he could open the door, "We're putting our child and my life in the hands of an unlicensed medical professional?"

"Lumi," Sebastian settled me, "You trust me, right?"

"Of course I do!"

"The Undertaker knows what he's doing…"

"The Undertaker?" I gave him a look, "I think you've finally lost your mind, Sebastian. Senility has finally set in."

"I'm not senile," he assured, "If I was, I'd think you were a grapefruit. I'm not senile. I know what I'm doing."

Almost against my will, Sebastian dragged me into the funeral parlor where a long haired man stood in the door with an unsettling grin on his face, "Sebastian Michaelis…How can I help you?"

"Hello, Undertaker," Sebastian was cordial as usual.

"Is this your lovely missus?" the Undertaker looked me over, "It's a pleasure to finally meet you, Mrs. Michaelis."

"Lumi…" I insisted.

"Now, you have a cambion in your womanly parts. Am I right?" he started sizing up my stomach, "Perhaps a week or so along…?"

"I'm sorry," I stopped him, "But how do you know it's a cambion?"

"Let's talk, shall we, poppet?" the Undertaker gave me a place to sit, "Sebastian, do you mind if I work alone?"

"Not at all," Sebastian kissed my forehead, "Trust me, Lumi. You'll be fine."

"You're leaving?" I squeaked.

"You'll be fine," he reiterated, "It's not very hard to track someone like him for someone like me."

"Someone like him…?" I didn't understand.

"I'm a reaper, my dear," the Undertaker said, "I have ample knowledge of both the supernatural and human anatomy, making me the perfect doctor for you and your child. And I give you my word that I won't do anything to hurt you that isn't necessary. I wouldn't want to be on the receiving end of an angry demon. Especially one like Sebastian. He'd tear me to ribbons!"

"You're a reaper?" I gasped, looking over to Sebastian, "Didn't you say there was a reaper that was obsessed with you, love?"

"Wrong reaper," he clarified.

"Ah!" the Undertaker chirped, "You could only be speaking of one reaper with such disdain! The one they call Grell Sutcliff, no?"

"Yes," Sebastian shuddered, "If I have my way, we will never cross paths again."

"But you know that won't happen," he teased, "Persistent one, Grell is. And easily jealous!"

"Enough, Undertaker," Sebastian growled, taking my face in his hand, "I'll be back soon. I have some things I need to take care of for the young master. You're in very capable hands, my love. Will you be alright?"

"I'll be fine…" I assured, "Go do whatever it is you have to do for Ciel and I'll be here when you get back."

"Yes, my lady," Sebastian bowed to me, kissing my forehead. Marcelina gave a very strong kick, pushing my bellybutton out a bit. Sebastian caught me wincing slightly and his hands went straight to my stomach, "Quod ad uos attinet, Marcelina. Ludis tincidunt matrem vestram. Ultimum calcitrant nocere ei. (As for you, Marcelina. You play nice with your mother. That last kick hurt her.)"

"It did," I agreed, smiling a little, "But I'll be ok. Go. You have a bratty earl to take care of. We're not going anywhere."

"Yes, dear," Sebastian bowed out and left the two of us in the capable hands of the Undertaker.

"Could I ask you a question, dearest?" he requested.

"Sure," I climbed onto an embalming table, adjusting myself accordingly, "Ask away."

"Has Sebastian brought up immortality with you…?"

"Yes," I nodded.

"Good," the Undertaker said, caressing my slowly growing belly, "If you want to survive this pregnancy, he'll have to make you immortal. And soon."

"Why soon?" I started to worry, making Marcelina act up.

"Precautionary measures," he settled me, "No need to worry. Let's see how the little one's doing, yes?"

"By all means."

The Undertaker felt around on my stomach, playing patty cake with Marcelina, "Any names picked out yet?"

I had mulled over her name many, many times. I wanted something Latin for her demon roots, nothing too English, but something that had a sort of regal sound to it, "Marcelina…The strong warrior. Oriana…The golden sunrise…Rayna…Queen of almost everything…Crimson…For the demon blood in her veins…Michaelis…"

"Excellent choice, Lumi," the Undertaker approved, "It sounds as beautiful as the young lady giving her life."

"Easy, Undertaker," I teased, "I'm a married woman."

"Could you make me a promise?" he asked.

"Depends on the promise…"

"When your mortal body dies," the Undertaker looked me over like a dog and a t-bone, "Please let me be the one to take care of the burial…"

"Sure," I agreed, "Once my mortal body is dead, it's all yours."

"Oh! Wonderful!" he cheered, "How I can't wait for you to become immortal now! I have half a mind to turn you myself!"

"I don't think Sebastian would like that very much," I pointed out, "He wants to be the one to turn me."

"That's between the two of you," the Undertaker agreed, "I won't be the wedge between you. He really and truly loves you, you know…"

"Yes," I hid a smile, looking down toward my feet, "He has odd ways of showing it sometimes, but he worships the ground I walk on."

"How much has your husband told you about your pregnancy, love?" the Undertaker asked.

"Not much," I thought it over, "How different is it from a normal pregnancy?"

"Your fevers will spike higher and more frequent," he explained, "If you're seeing high numbers, no need for alarm. It's just her need for warmth. Like hellfire. Hell burns very hot."

"I won't be going there until the biblical apocalypse, though," I figured. The Undertaker let out a slight unsettling chuckle, "I'm sorry. Did I miss something?"

"The Christian-Judaic apocalypse," the Undertaker chimed, "I get all giddy thinking about it. All those souls floating aimlessly, waiting for me to reap them. It will be like the Last Supper. Only better…richer…and never ending!"

"Have you reaped before…?" I wondered as he checked me over.

"Oh, yes," he nodded, "Many times. Before I passed along certain bits of information along to Her Majesty's watchdog. Merely a front, this old funeral parlor. Haven't reaped a soul in a few years. Last one was at the request of your beloved."

"Oh…?"

"A woman," he told, "Catherine Jane Winchester."

"Your last soul was my mother…?" my heart stopped and Marcelina's kicks eased.

"Yes, it was," the Undertaker confirmed, "Such a sad one to see go. Her cinematic record was a bit unsettling with all the notches in her knife handle, but she managed to capture the heart of a particular demon that you know and love. And that's why he asked me personally to send her to the great beyond."

The more I thought it over, the more it made my stomach turn. Was my mother the reason why Sebastian was with me in the first place? He couldn't have her, so he's settling with me…? No…That couldn't be…Sebastian's with me…because he loves me…And only me.

"As soon as Sebastian makes you immortal," the Undertaker went on, "You'll be just fine."

"Sebastian suggested an abortion," I spoke quietly.

"If he wasn't turning you immortal," the Undertaker said, "I'd suggest to you the same thing, because it would kill you. I can promise you that. I wonder what your soul would taste like…"

"You won't be the one to taste it," I assured, "Sebastian will. He's going to swallow my soul when he turns me immortal."

"When he turns you immortal?" a warm, comforting voice enveloped me, "You sound awfully sure of yourself, Mrs. Michaelis."

I cranked my neck back, "Hello, darling."

"Hello," Sebastian greeted, "Have you been discussing our marital affairs with the Undertaker…?"

"Our marital affairs are what got us in this situation in the first place," I smirked, knowing that Sebastian wouldn't dare lay a hand on me in my current condition.

"How is she?" Sebastian worried.

"She's fine," the Undertaker assured, "Both of them. Cute little thing, Sebastian. Very cute little thing."

"That's my daughter, Undertaker," Sebastian growled.

"I understand," he said, "The overprotective father…It looks well on you, Sebastian…"

"It's exhausting," Sebastian helped me down from the embalming table, "But worth it in the end, I suppose. Shall we go home, darling?"

"Wait," the Undertaker stopped him, "My payment…?"

"Yes," Sebastian obliged, "Lumi, I want you to go outside."

"Sebastian…?"

"I don't want you to see me like this…"

"Sebastian," I got nervous, "How does the Undertaker want you to pay him…?"

"You're going to have to trust me," he settled me, cradling my face in his hand, "The Undertaker doesn't take traditional payment. He doesn't accept any forms of currency."

"Oh, God, Sebastian," I got really nervous, "What are you going to do?"

"Wait outside," he demanded, "It won't be long. With the Undertaker, it doesn't take much."

"If you're too ashamed, Sebastian," the Undertaker threw his arm around me, "I could tell her what you do for me…"

"No," he put his foot down, taking me outside himself, "I'm sorry, Lumi. Just wait here."

Sebastian slammed the door behind him. I yelled outside, trying to open the door. Locked. And not by traditional means. Sebastian wasn't letting anyone in. The ideas started bouncing around in my head, making me queasy. The Undertaker didn't strike me as the type of person to accept…those kinds of favors. Nor did Sebastian seem like he'd be the one giving them. I've been in bed with him many, many times. He's definitely not the one taking it.

The nauseating silence was broken by a loud, raucous laughter and my husband emerging from the funeral parlor. He looked like he had seen a ghost. Sebastian pulled himself onto the driver's seat of the coach as I climbed into the back. I figured that whatever he did was traumatic enough.

"Sebastian…?" I asked, "Are you ok?"

"I feel filthy…" he admitted, making my stomach drop.

"What did you do?" I worried, "I promise you I won't judge. What you did was for the family."

"When it comes to the Undertaker," Sebastian explained, "He takes payment in the form of awful hysterics and tortured puns. I've seen torture in hell that looks like a Sunday afternoon tea party compared to what I just did."

"So…" I thought it over, "You just had to make the Undertaker laugh?"

"Unfortunately."

"Sebastian," I giggled a bit, "That's not a bad thing."

"If you heard what I told him," he sighed, "You'd understand."

"Tell me," I begged.

"No," Sebastian shot me down, "I'm taking it to my grave."

"Fine," I chirped, "Let's go back to the family crypt again."

Sebastian grabbed my face, kissing me hard, "That sarcastic, little mouth of yours may be the final death of me, my love…"

Not another word was said between us until we got home. Nothing needed to be said. I saw the occasional glimmer in Sebastian's eye. I hoped to heaven above and hell below that Marcelina got her father's eyes. I had a feeling she was going to be the spitting image of her father.

It warmed my heart to think of a beautiful little girl with Sebastian's face. Her father's looks. Her mother's stubborn personality. This beautiful little girl was definitely going to be a force to be reckoned with…

A/N: Another chapter in the books, kids. Now, we need to talk. Come on. Gather 'round. Have a seat on Auntie Lumi's lap…I may need a bigger lap…Anyway! Now that I have you all here. I know I've been spoiling you with daily posts again. Don't expect them. I've been having a really good writing streak lately and you've happened to benefit from them. What I'm saying is, there's two types of fans. There's the majority of you guys that leave comments that are super nice and super sweet and we talk and become buddies. Then, there's the occasional minority that love what I do, but get incredibly demanding. If I just posted, relax. Writing takes time. Sometimes, I can get some updates posted faster than others. I am not your performing monkey that you can cattle prod into good writing. If I just posted, there's a good chance I'll be posting again in the next day or so. All I ask for is a little patience. I'm trying not to sound like a huge dick here, but do understand that I'm one person and I'm also human. I need sleep and food and the occasional social interaction and a general life. But sometimes I also have deterrents like lovely bouts of depression and panic attacks that take me a while to get through (and I've been kinda sick lately, too.). So, from me to you, please think twice before being demanding in the comments. Your patience will always be greatly rewarded. Please...From the bottom of my heart, do NOT be that guy. And if you don't like it, no one asked you to read it, mate. What do you expect when you're rushing me? All my love, Lumi. xx