A/N: Wow. I really have no excuse for why this has taken so long to update, but here it is. I can't say I'm happy with it, but I got it out. I apologize so much! So please, to those who are still out there, enjoy the climax!
Disclaimer: I don't own Toboso Yana's wonderful Kuroshitsuji T^T
Ch. 11: The Howling
The sun is rising,
the screams have gone,
too many have fallen.
Few still stand tall.
Is this the ending-
of what we've begun?
Will we remember…
what we've done wrong?
-The Howling, By Within Temptation
It was funny. When Grell closed his eyes, he could remember when he first met Sebastian, whilst he was disguised as a clumsy butler bowing and apologizing before his mistress, Madame Red. He could remember his first night sleeping with Sebastian too, the heat of his body, the luster in his eyes, the husky tone of his voice. It was nice, he thought, to close his eyes and place himself in those situations, where he didn't know what was going to happen next.
Because when he opened his eyes, he could see all too well what was going to happen.
Death.
Feathers were falling like a downpour around them, silver and black. It took the Reaper a moment to realize that they belonged to differed individuals. Sebastian's wings were black and Cresil's were silver. They lacked the beautiful sheen that Grell associated with the color, though. The silver wear that the black butler polished and served with at the Phantomhive manor was shiny and beautiful to look at. These feathers reminded him of the sky when it snowed: blank, empty…pointless, even.
There was simply no comparison between the two Hellions. Even as the mysterious feathers thickened in their downpour around the two, obstructing Grell and Ciel's view of them, Sebastian's voice rang out clear and cool.
"Young Master. You will forgive me for showing this form to you."
"You've broken quite a few rules recently, Sebastian," the boy responded with an air of resignation. There was maturity beyond his years in his tone at that moment, and he handed the butler privilege to do whatever it took to kill of the enemies before them.
Sebastian chuckled darkly in response and with the flap of a huge pair of ebony wings, the feathers cleared away to reveal the most lethal form of the demon.
Cresil finished his own transformation a moment later, his long hair flowing madly about him and his pupils catlike slits in his eyes, which glowed as bright as twin suns.
For all the preamble, it seemed that the two should race at each other with loud battle cries, the screams of Hell echoing around them as they shifted the earth's orbit with the sheer intensity of their hatred and dedication to the one they fought for. But when they moved, it was in the blink of an eye, not in slow motion. And save for a low chuckle from the black-haired man, both men were silent.
"I do so wish we could return to the way things were," Grell sighed, missing the days of Madame Red for the first time since he had slain her.
"I share your sentiment," Ciel said with a shrug. "But right now please focus on Sebastian and—"
"Boss Sutcliffe!"
The earl and the Reaper turned in surprise to see Ronald running towards them, eyes wide.
"You're alive! Thank goodness, Boss. Spears didn't lie."
"Oh, Ronnie!" The effeminate mad grabbed his friend's hand and squeezed it between his own. "So Will's alright? Who else is still alive?"
The young god's expression darkened. "Few. Some have even fled. All was well before Lady Sinclaire….I think she's…"
"That woman was one of the best we've got," Grell hissed in agitation. "Damn. What are you doing here anyway?"
"Spears wanted to fight Scotts alone. Can he win, Boss? Can he? Scotts is not on our side here—he's on his own side! I've seen terrible things, he…" he trailed off, searching for the right words. "Well look, if Spears wins, things'll return to normal, right?"
Grell struggled to find the reassurance he knew he should be offering, but found none. He wanted to escape. He wanted to cling to the butler's back while he fought, breathing in his scent and forgetting about the rest of the world.
Cresil screamed as Sebastian succeeded in twisting his wrist until his left hand was torn off.
Decora laughed and called out a taunt to rile him further.
This was insanity.
And, as if to add to the chaos, a body suddenly flew past the battle, forcing the demons apart. They both stopped and stared in utter amazement as the body crashed into the brick wall of a flower shop and rose almost instantly.
"William!" Grell was the first to react, terror freezing his blood in his veins as he saw blood pouring down his boss' face and several wounds on his body.
"Move, Sutcliffe," he responded, shoving past the two gaping Reapers. Rushing forward, he was hit straight-on by Scotts, who moved so fast he was almost a blur to untrained eyes. With a deafening crash, their scythes collided.
A deep purr of a laugh rumbled in Sebastian's throat. "I owe you both eternally, Young Master, Grell. For this little skirmish between Decora and myself seems to be an outright battle. I wonder who shall fall first?"
No one bothered to answer. The sound of blood splashing against cobblestones spoke for itself. There was passion in the fights, both of them. Take William and Scotts. On William's end, the whisper as his scythe cut through the air, the gentle taps as his rubber-soled leather oxfords touched the ground lightly every so often, and the click-like noise that occurred whenever a leather-gloved hand touched the edge of his spectacles softly, pushing them further up the bridge of his nose and temporarily blocking out his brilliant orbs behind a white glare as the light refracted off the glass. Each and every sound, and the subtle elegance with which they were carried out, bespoke of a protective air and indignant fury.
You've put my underlings in danger.
You've tried to take my honor and position in office.
You disregarded the responsibility that comes with your job in order to serve your own self interest, in turn risking the balance between souls and the living, all for selfish want.
And for that, you no longer deserve to live.
Then there was Scotts. The clear and resonating tone as the metal blades of his scythe worked, the swish of his formal suit jacket against the cotton dress shirt that clung to his powerful build, slightly damp with perspiration, the flinch-inducing crunch as he grit his teeth in anger, expressed utter loathing and desire to slay.
You've stood in my way for years; you make us other Overseers look bad.
You continue to protect that defect in your sector, yet are quick to point out other mistakes made by other Dispatchers.
You've stood in my way for the last time, you scrawny, hypocritical, bastard.
I'll take you down once and for all and become London's sole Overseer!
Diagonal to them were Sebastian and Cresil.
The silver-haired man moved swiftly. With each dry scrape as his long nails sought wooden carts and boxes to hurl at his enemy, and with every wet slap as his tongue lolled out of his jaw to lap up blood that dripped down his head, even the scuffing sound as his huge wings grazed buildings in his occasional haste to move out of the way of an attack, the same rage of unrequited love was repeated over and over:
You will die at Decora's feet.
I will destroy every fiber of your being, and offer this world as a gift to her.
And she will never look at anyone ever again, Sebastian Michaelis.
Out of the four of them, the most beautiful fighter was unquestionably the butler. He was surely the most magnificent with his ebony wings, pink eyes and flowing, shining hair. His heels echoed emptily against the stone ground, his wings flapped mightily, sending gusts of wind blowing before him. To fight, he used anything that lay before him in his path: shards of glass, plywood, crates, hansoms, and he also fought tooth and nail as was traditional for his kind. Most impressively, Sebastian used his own unique power to control flame, sending nearby fires flashing out towards his opponent whenever convenient. All in all, there was something unstoppable in his actions and style, and Grell noted this with a girlish satisfaction.
Of course, seeing that the butler survived was a close second in his mind. Come on, Sebby. Just finish this.
Scotts was doing just that; whilst avoiding hurled objects from the demons, he was quickly wearing the dark-haired Reaper out, and William's attacks were becoming fewer and slower. It was simply too soon for him to be fighting again.
Though Grell's eyes were glued to Sebastian's back, Ronald watched with a sinking feeling as a punch here, a swing of the scythe there…all fell in Scotts' favor. The stoic man was losing too much blood, he was beginning to miscalculate his distance and speed of his weapon's trajectory.
"I do think it'd be best if you went with some dignity, Spears," the taller god sneered, suddenly leaping forward and knocking the green-eyed god beneath him. He raised his scythe high above his head, prepared to bring it down and into William's heart. "It suits your more. I'll make sure you're actually dead this time too."
"No! Mr. Spears!" Ronald's cry brought Grell to reality and he realized, looking up to see his friend rushing towards the two Overseers that he would be too late.
Suddenly: "Stop it!" and a clang.
The two Dispatchers looked in shock and horror to find the third Overseer of London had rushed over, and was holding her own scythe (styled like a weed-wacker that would give even the great redwood trees nightmares) against Scott's. She looked as though she had dragged herself out of a grave with her bun out and her hair falling around her face messily. She was dripping with blood from various wounds and her eyes were alight with fury.
"Mr. Scotts!"
"Sinclaire? I thought that demon—"
"You assume far too much. This time, you will actually pay for it." Moving like lightning, she pushed him back and off of William, and thrust her own scythe into his neck. A new shower of blood covered her as the thickset Reaper's jugular burst, staining the ground with hot red liquid. The only sound he made as he died was a low grunt, and then he fell, dead.
Seeing his boss suddenly murdered so effortlessly, Ronald fell to his knees. Grell could only gape while even Ciel turned from his servant to raise his eyebrows. Staggering, the woman struggled to maintain composure.
"You're alright, Mr. Spears?"
He rose unsteadily. "Yes…that was my fight though, Lady Sinclaire."
"Don't give me that," she snapped, turning and swaying for a brief second before standing tall once again. "He was out of line. Clearly, it was in the interest of all of London and Dispatch Management to assist you. A simple thank you would suffice."
He looked a bit stunned by her attitude (for of the three Overseers, Lady Sinclaire was known for her quietness), then nodded. "Forgive me. Thank you. Now three demons remain alive, and a fourth is working to fix that. I believe it is a female who lives still, named Deumos."
"Correct," she responded. "Knox, was it? You come with us to help. We'll round up any other survivors."
"What about me? Will don't be rude!" Grell cried.
"That isn't self-explanatory?" he asked, looking tired and exasperated. "You'll stay with that…vermin right there—" he motioned to Sebastian—"it's where you belong. Help him. I can trust you with that much, can't I?"
For a moment, they stared at each other as the others took off, leaping past the body of the Overseer who had so unceremoniously been terminated. It was loud between the roaring fires, the fight between the demons, and the Reapers taking off and heading east. Yet in Grell's mind, it was completely silent as he stared at his boss. (This may have been because it just seemed more dramatic that way, and he liked things dramatic and poetic.) Slowly, he nodded and turned from William, for his mind was made up. The black-haired man's words were binary, and there was an order slipped in there cleverly.
In the midst of a war, he figured it might be a good time to start obeying those orders.
Seeing that his ambiguous words had been understood, the wounded Overseer took off to join the others and find anyone in need of help. This is ending, he told himself as he followed the spiritual pressure of Ronald and Sinclaire to find them. So why do I feel so unsettled?
Cresil managed to throw Sebastian off a rooftop at that moment, and the demon hit the ground roughly, rising and finding his eyes snagging on William's. Their gaze was a brief, exploratory one. Curious and distant at the same time. And then it was broken as the fight started up again and the green-eyed man continued to travel eastward. That's why. He was putting trust in a demon. He could pray for the best all he liked, but there was still an underlying sense of distrust.
A single un-tuned string could make the most beautiful violin symphony a painful cacophony.
"It looks like all the other children are cleaning up their toys," the silver-haired demon noted with a grin. "Perhaps we should do the same. Playtime's over."
"You would say something like that," Sebastian sighed as though it was a shame. "Nonetheless, I do agree. I'm tired of playing tag with you," he lunged and managed to tear at the other man's leg, attempting to dislocate his knee.
Cresil hissed in anger and responded with equal strength.
A few yards off, Decora watched them, beginning to grow bored. She sighed daintily and crossed on leg over the other, straightening her back slightly. In just a little while if she continued resting, she knew she would have her strength back. By then, Sebastian would no doubt have killed that hindrance Cresil, and she could fight him back into submission. Returning to Hell together was not something she was overly thrilled with, but they would not be so foolish the next time. They would be prepared when the returned to Earth…they would win…
She froze as she sensed something suddenly appear behind her, and didn't dare turn at the unexpected feel of cold metal against her throat.
"Sebastian!"
Both demons froze; Cresil had pinned Sebastian against the wall of a building and was attempting to rip into him and yank out his spine. The silver-haired demon froze, however at the sight of Grell standing behind Decora, his scythe poised down and resting over her shoulder.
"I get it now. I can't just stand aside and let you do this. That's not me." His lips curved up, teeth gleaming. "You know how attached I am to the color red. Please let me draw it out one last time, just for you! And also…everyone needs me to finally do something right. Helping you might be the one thing I can actually do."
"No," the woman whispered, unbelieving. But her voice was drowned out as the machine came to life, motor rumbling loudly and blade spinning. It was useless for her to struggle; he had managed to conceal his spiritual pressure long enough to sneak up on her, and she was aware of the disadvantage. It was not her way to die struggling and screaming.
In Decora's mind, anyway, she was the epitome of dignity.
Of course, there really wasn't much to be dignified about as the blade came down, around the space between her neck and shoulder and through to her heart. Her seated body slumped as her soul was ripped forcefully from her, her Cinematic Record played before Grell's eyes, and she became the empty shell of ambition quite beautifully, though rather simply.
Bloodshed, hatred, different levels of Hell, and a certain dark-haired demon…
Grell had never actually slain a demon before, but the Record was about what he had expected; he would have nightmares for months after viewing the rings of Hell, but it had all been brought up to Earth recently anyway; he felt it made no difference.
"Well, how anticlimactic," he murmured, plucking the saw's bloodied end from her torso and stepping back to stare at the demons.
"D…Decora…" Cresil looked in terror at the body of the woman he had so admired and wanted. "Why you—"
"Too late," Sebastian cooed, swinging his clawed hand back and then thrusting it into the silver-haired man's ribcage. He choked and gasped as his own heart was ripped from his chest. The black-haired man didn't have the power Grell did; the blow was not fatal immediately as was one from a death scythe, for his soul began to leak slowly from his physical form. "Here you are," he spoke softly but remorselessly.
Turning, he tossed the still heart onto the bloodied body of Decora.
"She finally has your heart. You are familiar with that human expression, I presume?"
Cresil thrashed uselessly in his enemy's arms, trying to fight back. After a few moments, he became too weak, and simply collapsed, drawing jagged breaths as he died. With a few muttered incantations, Sebastian created a small rip out of the air itself that opened to Hell. Without a second glance, he threw the body of the silver-haired man into it.
"Decora as well." He said, causing Grell, who had been staring in shock at his own accomplishment, to jump and then obey, gathering her corpse and the heart that rested upon her chest, and leaping over to the butler to drop them in.
"Just like that, all our troubles are gone?" he whispered as the red-eyed man chanted briefly, sealing the portal shut.
He shook his head, turning to face Grell slowly. "That much I severely doubt. You truly do have a simple mind."
"It's called optimism, Sebby," he retorted, but there was something, perhaps the phantom of a smile upon his lips, though it just as easily could have been the lighting.
"Is it? And when have you ever wanted to talk so much on an occasion when you simply could demand a kiss?" he smirked, stepping forward.
"I could demand a kiss? Sebastian, quit dawdling!" he snapped, closing the gap between them eagerly.
Fire and ice met in that kiss, and any follower of Robert Frost would know just how destructive each could be in its own right. The kiss spoke for itself as Sebastian slipped his hands around the Reaper's back, and he in turn clung to his shoulders.
An end was in sight, however unclear it was.
A/N: ...-_- I hate how they just died all casual-like. I was happy with Scott's death; I don't feel he deserved anything dramatic, and wanted his own shortsightedness to kill him. But Cresil and Decora...meh. Also, Robert Frost's "Fire and Ice" wasn't published for about another 30 years after this takes place, I know, but the poem came to my head as I was typing this. I could put it at the beginning of the next chapter if anyone's interested :)
As I said, I'm not happy with it AT ALL, but let me know what you think. If you're reading this, thank you for reading so far! *bows* I hope to hear what you think, and see you in the next chapter where we can finally have a bit more romance ;)