A/N: This chapter, in sharp contrast to the last one, is short, for this story, anyway. Still, I think you'll like it. Let me know!

Title: Rose Painted Red

Author: liketolaugh

Rating: T

Pairings: Ciel/Elizabeth, Vincent/Rachel

Genre: Family/Supernatural

Warnings: AU

Summary: What if Ciel's parents lived? What if he still made the deal with the demon? Why, everything would really be quite different... Follow-up to Even So.

Disclaimer: Sadly, Black Butler is not mine.

People lined the church benches, each one clothed in black apparel. Ciel, shifting every few seconds restlessly and only just holding back the little noises his treacherous mouth wanted to make, held tight to Lizzy's hand as she cried quietly.

Ciel was crying too. Silently, with barely a tremor to his shoulders, but still crying.

"Aunt Anne," whispered Lizzy, voice breaking. Ciel squeezed her hand, willing the same appendage to stop shaking.

His parents hadn't arrived yet, but he knew they would. Soon.

And, as if on cue, the old church door creaked open, letting light spill into the gloomy setting, and Ciel nudged Lizzy softly and looked up. She followed his gaze, and green eyes, filled with tears, widened slightly.

Vincent, face solemn and emotions tightly checked, was in front, a vividly red dress tossed over his shoulder. Murmurs spread across the room – a red dress was hugely, ridiculously, inappropriate, and yet… Madam Red had loved the color red, and so maybe not.

Regardless, with Rachel trailing just behind him, a bouquet of red roses held tightly, barely holding herself together, no one was going to confront him about it now.

And so it was silence, utter and all-consuming, that stalked the two eldest Phantomhives up the aisle, bearing their red gifts toward the coffin that held Madam Red, the Baroness Burnett, once Angelina Durless.

Finally, they reached the coffin, which held a cleaned-up Madam Red, wearing a white dress, on a bed of white roses. Ciel watched as Vincent bent down and murmured something to the corpse, the sound barely carrying itself to Ciel and Lizzy, standing in the front row.

"While we might have disagreed on the day of your death, your passion and your fire will always be your most remarkable traits." Then, quieter, "White never suited you, Angelina."

And he placed the red dress over her motionless body. For a moment, he looked at her, and then he stood back, offering silent support as Rachel stepped forward after him.

"You were my sister, Anne. Nothing could ever change that. I just wish that it hadn't ended this way."

That was all she said, or at least, all that Ciel could hear, and soon she, too, stepped back, and Vincent, still quiet and stiff with control, guided her toward where Ciel and Lizzy stood as she started to let go, soft noises escaping her throat and tears spilling down her cheeks.

And Ciel, too, bent his head and let his tears fall as bright red rose petals began to swirl into the huge church room, scattering in an unseen wind.

Outside, Sebastian watched, unable to enter the holy ground, but still able to look after his master in this moment of weakness.

And he frowned.

Hours later, they stood in front of the silent grave, the only ones still there. Rachel cried silently, a deep misery reflected in her blue eyes, and Vincent was turned away, hiding his expression, shaking but completely, utterly silent. Ciel hid his face in his mother's side, concealing his expression as Vincent was.

A hand dropped down to touch his shoulder gently, and he looked up at Sebastian with eyes still watery and miserable, face tearstained, head leaning against Rachel. Sebastian carefully didn't react, instead nodding to Undertaker beside him, who waved.

Ciel sighed and nodded. Sebastian understood and nodded to Undertaker, who started to walk away, up over the hill. When they were just out of sight, Ciel gave his mother one last squeeze before he let go and went off after them.

Rachel started and one hand reached down as if to feel for him, and then she turned to follow. Vincent, catching the movement just in time, reaching out one hand to catch her elbow, stopping her short. She looked over to look at him, his face expressionless, but eyes just a little bit red.

"Let him go," he said quietly, softly. "Let him come to terms with it on his own."

Rachel didn't look certain but she settled, if a bit uneasily.

Ciel looked down at the grave presented before him. "This is her?" he asked, voice almost too soft to hear, too quiet, for fear of it giving out on him.

"Indeed," Undertaker confirmed, gesturing to the gravestone. "I cleaned her up and buried her, just like you said, little lord. See?"

He looked down and read the headstone, one blue eye skittering over the inscription. It was simple, really. Just her name.

Mary Jane Kelly.

Sebastian's eyes widened in surprise and comprehension, a look of pure shock flashing over his face before it settled.

"My last client from Jack the Ripper," Undertaker continued.

"She was an immigrant," Ciel whispered, gaze fixed on the simple slab of stone, so much less ornate than that of his Aunt Anne's. "From overseas. There was no one to claim her body."

"And so the little lord, out of the kindness in his little heart, had me take care of it," Undertaker snickered, one hand reaching to curve around Ciel's shoulder.

Ciel sighed, and slipped out from Undertaker's grip, instead dropping to one knee in front of the grave, and he reached out, tracing the edge of the gravestone with fingers that barely skimmed the hard rock.

"I knew," he whispered, "that she wouldn't live. That we could not save her and still accomplish our goal." Sadness, but no regret, colored his voice. "And because of that, she died."

"The choice was out of your hands, my lord," Sebastian reminded him.

Ciel sighed and rose. "Yes… I suppose it was."

Doubt colored his voice.

"But of course," he continued, a hint of thought to his voice. "If Queen Victoria ordered it… well, I suppose it was inevitable. If Mary Kelley had not died to catch Jack the Ripper… someone else would have."

"Of course, Young Master," Sebastian agreed.

Undertaker frowned. "Queen Victoria, eh? Can't say I like her, leaving all her dirty work to the three of you."

Ciel shrugged. "That is the fate of our family."

For the first time that evening, he sounded completely unconcerned.

Undertaker looked at Ciel, and for the first time in a long time, Ciel wished that he could see the eyes hidden behind gray hair. "Take care, little Earl, that your fate does not send you into my care too soon," he warned. Then he lightened, ruffling Ciel's hair in such a way that sent Ciel into protests. "Of course, you are free to visit in any other circumstance."

"I'll keep that in mind," Ciel replied wryly, a little disgruntled as he attempted to straighten his hair again.

Undertaker chuckled, wandering off, shovel waving through the air.

A long moment of silence passed as Ciel looked down at the second grave produced that day. Sebastian, though, was thinking.

Sebastian was not an idiot. This was something very important, and he frowned to himself as he thought. Because for one moment, that night in the alley, he had seen a side of Ciel that he had only seen once before, on That Day. And it hadn't taken him long to understand that that was, at least in large part, the real Ciel. What he wanted to know was why.

"Young Master? May I ask you a question?"

Ciel nodded and then looked up at him, head tilted to one side inquisitively.

"Why is it that you conceal your true nature, even from your parents?"

Sadness flooded Ciel's blue eye and he sighed. He hesitated for a moment, and then started to speak. "The answer, Sebastian, is complicated. But, in its base form, the answer is that Daddy doesn't like hatred."

Surprise and a hint of understanding glittered ruby in Sebastian's eyes. "But he has seen it in you before, my lord. He saw it, just as I did, on That Day."

Ciel nodded softly, blue and violet eyes fixed on the ground, dim with melancholy. "Yes. Right now, Daddy thinks that the hatred I felt that day has vanished. He believes that it is gone." He looked up at Sebastian, eyes half-lidded and a sigh on his lips. "I hope that he never learns he's wrong."

"Wrong, my lord?"

Ciel's gaze traveled to fix on something in the distance, something only he could see. "Yes, wrong. The hatred… it is not gone. You know it is not gone."

Sebastian nodded silently.

"Most of the time," Ciel continued, "I keep it locked away. Out of sight, and out of mind. But I can always feel it. I feel it burning." He touched his chest slowly, lightly, as if in a trance. "It burns, right here, always." He smiled. "But, as long as it is locked away, Daddy can't see it. Mama doesn't know it's there. So that's okay. Because they're happier this way." He looked to Sebastian again, still smiling, but it looked forced, almost painful, his eyes searching for something he wouldn't find in Sebastian's red-eyed gaze. "Okay, Sebastian?"

Disapproval reflected in Sebastian's eyes, but he bowed.

"Very well, Young Master. I understand."

Ciel's smile softened into something more natural. "I know you do. You always do."

And Ciel turned away, took a deep breath, and started again toward his parents.

Sebastian's disapproving frown softened into the slightest of smirks.

"Secrets and lies, my lord," he murmured, tracking Ciel with his gaze. "That is how you live, how you survive. You hide, you lie, and no one sees your true face, not even your family. How long can you last like that, Young Master? How long before your mask crumbles, and you are left bare and exposed for all to see?"

Ciel paused. "I don't know."

And that was that.

Sebastian paused, smirked, and followed after his little lord.

Because even if the Young Master's mask fell apart, his little face left exposed and raw, the boy holding on by a single thread, Ciel would not give in, would not give up. Would keep going.

And it was Sebastian's job to track his every step, until, at last, that final order came, echoing with weakness, with strength, and the contract drew to its close, as all contracts eventually did.

So. Important stuff, here. Important note - Ciel's 'true self' is not like him in canon. It's more... somewhere in between. Kind of. But it doesn't really matter right now. So... please review!

Guest: I am not infringing on the goddamn copyright, and if you were anything but a coward you wouldn't be a guest! If you'd bothered to READ it instead of assuming I did because I asked if it did, then you would know that!