My Black Delilah by Hollywood Undead


A black figure stood silently within a burning swath of flames, the red and orange and yellow and purple beating a complicated, rapid tattoo against it's clothes, reaching to a sky that would never exist.

Shoes shifted silently on a burning, burning ground, disrupting a miniscule wave of black dust settling quietly on an even blacker cliff, the shining black rock sometimes peeking out of the black sand, reflecting in the burning, searing light.

A putrid breeze blew, silently, silently-disrupted the complicated tempo that the flames had set, a brief moment of simply burning, burning, burning and searing heat- and it began again, a new, more complicated tempo pounding away inside the flame. The black figure still stood, appearance not bothered.

The heat inside the flames seared away at his skin, but a pair of wine-colored eyes stared blankly into the distance of hell.

In back of the figure, in back of the flames- there was a large field of black flowers-Delilah's- and towering over the delicate black flowers, blooming despite all odds within hell, was a large house- in fact, a mansion. An almost filthily extravagant looking mansion by most standards- yet, in the greedy way that demons liked to make things- houses, sex, souls- it was in fact rather quaint.

However, the black figure in the burning, burning flames didn't seem to like it particularly. In fact, he hated it, the whole mansion- in all of its greedy richness, tainted, tainted by the wealth in hell. Just like his…master.

Grief briefly flashed in his red eyes, and a sort of desperation glimmered, remaining when the grief was covered up.

Slowly, slowly, the figure sat down on the burning, dust-covered ground of the cliff, unmindful of the flames scorching him. Almost painstakingly, he rested his face in his hands.

If it wouldn't simply dry up in the burning pits of hell, Sebastian (as the figure was known by) would have cried. What that miserable demon and his little contractor- Claude and…Alois Trancy, was it…? Had done to his little Bocchan…Ciel…

Oh, he was plenty hungry for his now-missing soul of his master. He refused to call him Ciel. Or Bocchan. No, he was nothing to Sebastian now. Just bound by his sense of remaining loyalty to Ciel, His Ciel. But he would give up the soul to eat if he could just have him again.

He stared at his pale, unmarked hands. No blemishes, just that dreadful contract- all he had left of his Ciel. Just a reminder of what they could have been. If they had just given up there pride for one…millisecond…one…instant…

Sebastian grimaced in fleeting agony. Ciel…Bocchan…Ciel…!

His current master was now a hollow being of him. His soul's shell. He had no soul to light up his eyes in a grim triumph when he won a chess game, or savor a new delicacy created by his butler's hands with a sort of half-happy disappointment, half guilty pleasure, and a sort of haughtiness. He wouldn't have an exasperated, slightly fond look in his eyes when he had to endure the ratings of that blond girl…Elizabeth, her name was? Ah, yes. Lady Elizabeth. He wouldn't have that adorable pout on his face when he danced- or tried, at least. There would be no playful, mischievous glint as they played their little games with each other. No spark of passion, no sense of irony when he defied the world time and time again. And…most of all, he wouldn't have that…look that paralyzed Sebastian when he looked at him sometimes. Wouldn't have that need to turn to him for comfort when he let down his walls for a moment.

No…this…. thing that had fashioned itself in his body had none of that. Just a complete stranger.

Sebastian had long ago realized that he had loved Ciel. He would move heaven and earth for him. And hell. On a mere flick of the hand, he would have done it eagerly, wanting to see the result of his unemotional-looking master's boredom- or otherwise. What purpose it would bring. After all, Ciel would have done it for a reason, and he would have done it decisively. No frilly-frilly. Sebastian had loved that, too. It was part of Ciel, after all…

Sebastian bit his flawless lip. His… employer… graciously gave him a break todayand he was free to do as he wished. So, the demon got up from the wreath of burning fire and dust, and began walking on to journey into the boy's gardens. Or rather, his 'attempt' of them- Sebastian was nearly sure that he made them so that he would be reminded of his Ciel again.

Journeying out of the flames, into the hard, rocky earth, occasionally crunching on the stray lava pebble- he walked into the huge field of black Delilah's.

He picked one up in his hand.

It crumbled into black dust in his hand, despite barely touching it.

Sebastian felt his heart tear in two as he was painfully reminded of how he remembered the last order that Ciel had given him- and look how well that turned out, he told himself bitterly.

" What is lost can never be found."

The voice of his master, Ciel seemed to echo in his head like an eerie mantra, filled with no beginning and having no end- just like the beating pulse of the fire that he had sat in brief moments ago...

A brief pause, (like the breath of the wind that disturbed it) and it began again, only with a different uttering.

" There are two types of people in the world; those who steal and those who are stolen from. I just stole your future…that's all."

Sebastian sank to his knees in the hard, heated ground of hell.

" Oh, but Ciel…they stole you from me…"

And a single, perfect tear dripped from his face- and it sizzled away in the heat, never to be seen again.


BAB: Oh man, I swear- this thing is like an effin' pregnant woman. It demanded sweet and emotional last time, now it's more like stab-a-knife-in-your-heart-and-twist. I don't own the song nor do I own Kuroshitsuji. I wish I owned the latter. Thanks to all who reviewed on Hurricane! I hope you enjoy this new chapter.