"Oranges and lemons," say the bells of St. Clements...

--

"I'm not telling him, you."

"I'm not going in there!"

"Nobody said any of us 'ad to go in."

"Just go up 'n knock on the door."

"Elaine disappeared last week..."

"Oh, stop that!"

"Abigail has a point, she is the fourth one!"

"They prob'ly just left for the same reasons we want to."

"Or she's been kill-"

"You mustn't say things like that, 'tis not appropriate!"

"She's right..."

"Ah!"

The chatter of the three women came to hault, as they watched the mistress of the house pass through the main hall and into the drawing room where their guest awaited. Almost immediately they returned to cleaning, or at least faked it, for their minds where currently on much more dire tasks. Abigail brushed her dusty hands off onto her apron and blouse. She was a shorter girl with a smaller build then the rest, and wavy blonde hair. She held little command in any place, and never had, nor was she too easy on the eyes. Although, had she been born under another name and to another family, she would have been quite pretty. Alas, years of labor and worry had aged her prematurely. The other two maids stopped their mock work the minute their mistress had left the hall. As long as the job was done at the end of the day there was no issue, but slacking in anyway infront of their superiors was never good. Still, their mistress would be occupied for abit, The Earl of Hargreaves was visiting this evening. The servants of the house where all fully aware of his relationship with their mistress, It was not as if they'd blab it to anyone else, but idol gossip regarding the fairly obvious was their main way to pass the time... and as for the subject of just who's child was currently cooped up in his bedroom one floor up, well, they very rarely spoke of that. Infact, they rarely spoke of their young master at all, when they could avoid it.

"Well..." Abigail murmured, shifting the weight on her feet.

Jennifer, a women several years older then the meeker Abigail, in her mid-twenties, sighed, tossing her duster at the younger girl, who caught it awkwardly as it nearly hit her in the face. She was taller, and a little stronger, her dark brown hair pulled back into a tight bun, with a few strands of loose hair falling forward into her face.

"Fine," she muttered, scowling. "I'll go tell him, but you owe me for this one, do ya' hear?"

With that, she unrolled her sleeves, which had been up to avoid getting in the way of her cleaning, and trudged up the stairs, complaining to her self.

She rapped her knuckles lightly against the door. Silence, as per usual. She considered just leaving, but they'd been given their orders several minutes ago, and if nobody went through with it there'd be trouble. She bit her lip, rapping a little harder.

"...Young master..?" She whispered, as she lowered her hand nervously from the door. A thump was heard in the room, as a clenched fist slammed down on a desk. Apparently the young man inside had been hanging on a hopeful idea of the maid leaving after the first apprehensive knock. Certainly both of them would have been much happier if that had been the case.

"...I thought I told you not to disturb me." The young man remarked through clenched teeth, as he stood up from his desk. The maid gasped, stepping back from the closed door, still quite happy to have that layer of protection between her and the teenaged demon.

"Sir, The Earl Hargreaves arrived this afternoon," She responded, taking another step back. A rather chilled silence followed this, and Jennifer shifted, waiting for a response to indicate she could just leave. She heard movement in the room, as he passed to the door, stopping as his hand came to rest on the knob.

"Very well. Tell him I will be down shortly."

She gave a curt nod, though dismissed the action as silly, since he could not see her anyway, then sprinted down the hall. The young man drew his hand back from the door, swallowing. He was fully aware that...he would be here, it was hardly a surprise, yet...

He swallowed, taking a few steps back and falling down onto the four-poster bed on the far side of the room. He let his eyes close, enjoying the nice silence he was able to have when the maids wheren't pestering him. Granted, every little thing they could possibly do put him on edge. He didn't like people, he hadn't for a long time. Those stupid girls where no acception. Infact, he really couldn't understand how anyone could stand it, those pathetic gnats constantly underfoot.

"I wonder how many are pampering pathetic little Cain right this minute..."

He scowled at such thoughts, finally sitting up, straightening his shirt and tie. He was just lying his hand on the knob again when he glanced at the cupboards under his desk that had been left opened. He swallowed, an air of paranoia settling on his shoulders, and he crossed back to the desk, kicking the door shut and shielding it's contents once more from prying eyes. He pulled the bedroom door open, slamming it behind him, before striding down the long hall. The cupboard bellow the desk hung ajar, the vibrations from the slammed door working it open again with a eerie creak. Several jars varying in size rested on the shelf inside. The dim light of the room reflecting off the glass of the nearest one, it's grisly contents peering out into an empty room...

Miss Elaine always did have such lovely eyes.

--

Cassian trudged into the basement, tossing a rather bloody package onto the cold table infront of him. The Doctor, who had been looking over his own papers, turned towards his assistant, raising an eyebrow and picking the object up off the table. With a glance to Cassian, he began unwrapping the worn fabric that was bundled around it, to reveal a glass jar with a bloody heart resting inside it.

"Ahh..." was all that escaped the mans lips, as he turned the jar a few times, looking at it from several angles until a rather snide smirk spread up his face.

"Well, good work, Cassian...Now... Where's the body?"

An odd silence fell between them, the jar still in Jizabels hand, although his eyes where fixed on Cassian, who'd now taken a few steps back.

"...The... body, Sir?"

Jizabels expression was almost comical, as he glanced from the jar, to his assistant, rather sternly. He rapped his fingers against the glass, before setting the jar down on the table again, and resting a hand on his own waist.

"Yes. I needed the body, Mikaila needs blood. She will only make it another day before she begins to notice the symptoms, I cannot have that. I needed a girls body."

Cassian twitched abit, for that was he detail he most certainly did not remember ever hearing when he went out several hours before.

"...I cut that out of a drunk outside the tavern down the street," he said raising an eyebrow, though Jizabel had hardly given him time to respond before he whisked the jar up from the table, and placed it with his other projects.

"And I had thought you would be getting it all done at once..." He muttered, "That puts me behind schedule, Cassian. Go out and try again."

The 'boy' rested his head in his hand, exhaling, as Jizabel turned to face him with an expression indicating that getting the hell out of there was his best option. Still, after groaning and letting the hand drop away from his weary face, he drug himself over to a chair and sat, leaning back against it.

"Well?" Jizabel remarked, his patience waning.

Cassian shook his head, before crossing his legs and relaxing about as much as one could in a dark basement full of corpses and organs, whilst being stared down by one very irate young doctor.

"I'll go in abit, give me some bloody time." He remarked, as he reached into his coat, pulling out a cigarette. He paused, shuffling through his pockets, before looking back to the Doctor.

"You have any matches?" he asked, in a rather nonchalant tone. Jizabels own expression was rather vague, but he walked to a drawer on the far side of the room. He pulled it open shuffling through its contents for a moment before tossing a box of matches in the direction of his assistants head, who caught it without a second thought. Cassian shrugged, lighting the cigarette in his hand before setting the box of matches down on the cold autopsy table.

"I need that body."

"I'll be leaving in a few minutes," he remarked, taking a drag.

"If this becomes regular behavior..."

"Is anything that goes on here 'regular'?"

"That is beside the point!"

The 'boy' paused, snuffing out the cigarette on the table, leaving a smudge on the once shining surface.

"Right," he muttered, uncrossing his legs. He had thought about standing, but something about Jizabels behavior today struck him as rather queer.

"You alright, kid? Normally you don't let this sort of thing go so easy."

Jizabel glared at him as the word 'kid' escaped his mouth, although he was used to hearing it from him, that was not the way he preferred to be addressed. Yet, he was right. On most occasions Cassian would have been back out on the hunt immediately, but today he had simply given in. Death had been questioning this himself, although he already knew the answer...

"Cassandra's gone, for now, right?" The 'boy' asked, with some concern.

"Of course it's not him," Cassian thought, afterward. Jizabels mood now was just... well, it was just more distant then usual, if that was possible. When Cassandra was around, it was more a paranoia then anything else. The pieces didn't fit there.

"No, he's gone back to his own estate," Jizabel responded, as he let his hair down and leaned against the table. "...I'm out of his schedule for the time being."

Cassian raised an eyebrow.

"His... schedule?"

"Yes," Jizabel started, despite the jesting nature of his statement, his tone was entirely serious. "... He has a very tight-knit schedule, there is only so much one can do inbetween drinking, showing off, wasting money, and defiling young boys."

He paused, taking off his glasses for a moment to wipe was appeared to be a fleck of dried blood from the lens.

"...Frankly, I'm surprised he didn't show interest in you, Cassian," He remarked, a thin smirk on his face for less then a second, as his assistant scowled.

"Ha...," the 'boy' muttered, rolling his eyes at one of the many unamusing quips he faced most everyday. But despite how tired he'd grown of such things, it was nice to have a more level conversation with him. At least they where over another hurdle. Deep down, he knew full well there would be worse problems in the future, but at least he didn't have to worry about what Gladstone was plotting. For now the sun was shining. Yes, the sun was shining even though he was about to go out and take more lives for this... maniac. What a bright day.

"It had to be said..." Jizabel remarked, as he raised his right hand and brushed his hair back.

"I know," Cassian muttered, shaking his head slightly, though smiling to himself. Silence fell between them as Cassian got up, stretched, and made his way to the door.

"...Today was," Jizabel stopped mid sentence, for Cassian was already at the door, but the 'boy' stopped and turned back to him.

"...Was what?"

"It's been... ten years now, since I became a part of Delilah..."

Cassian pushed the door closed again, and his hand fell from the knob.

"...That long?" He said under his breath. It shouldn't have surprised him, not in the least, yet...

"Yes. As of today... As of several hours ago," he added, glancing at the clock in the far corner of the room. "...You should be going, make it fast and clean Cassian."

He nodded in response, before pulling the door open and leaving the dimly lit cellar. Ten years. Where was he ten years ago? Cassian grimaced, as he stopped outside the door, thinking of the miserable creature he was leaving behind. But he shook his head, and hurried on. The sooner his sick work was over with, the sooner he'd be back, leaving now was the most logical course of action. Although the same images played through his mind, for ten years ago he was nearly the same age Jizabel was now, tripping through nearly the same dark abyss...

--

Jennifer descended the main stairway, where Abigail was kneeling, cleaning the rails. As she walked past the girl, she walked right over the hem of her dress, dragging her foot and tearing it quite deliberately. The younger girl turned, looking back up to Jennifer, who's hands where on her hips as she awaited a response from the meeker one. Abigail sat up, though still in a kneeling position, as she pulled her torn dress closer to her.

"You didn't have to do that!" She remarked, quite angrily. She would have to be up all night sewing, but she'd be able to fix it... Of course, her loss of needed sleep didn't seem to matter much to Jennifer. She lifted her hand, brushing a strand of hair up that had fallen down her face, then folded her arms, her foot tapping rather impatiently.

"I got his attention. You 'appy now?" She muttered, tearing the cleaning cloth from the girls hands and getting back to her own polishing.

"You mean... he's coming down? He never comes down..." Abigail bit her lip, and stood, straightening her apron. "...I'm going back to the servants quarters, Beth wanted me for something."

"Alright," Jennifer muttered, paying little attention as Abigail hurried out of the main hall. She had no doubt that she had another job to do, but she still knew full well it could have waited. She just didn't want to be here when that 'horror' arrived. Frankly, she couldn't understand Abigails blatant fear for the boy. Sure, there where the nasty rumors that spread around the servants quarters, and she herself was put on edge by his occasional outbursts, but he was no different then any other rich brat, right?

No, she knew full well he wasn't. The boy was off his rocker, and as far as the rumors where concerned... Well, she didn't want to be on his bad side. Beth was a women who'd worked under the family for many years, and on a number of occasions she claimed to recall a time when he was "sweet"... but it wasn't as if that automatically made him a good person now.

A tap was heard behind her, as a foot stepped down onto the last step, pausing there, instead of going on. Jennifer turned slowly, her thoughts broken, as she came to look at the sixteen yearold master whom she served.

"Haven't you been here all day. Don't you have anything better to do beside fuss over every last spec of dust..."

"...Good afternoon, Sir." She remarked, giving a slight curtsy to the boy infront of her. Now that she thought of it, this was the first time she'd actually seen him in several days, not to say he looked any different then he had then. He was still thin, Beth had claimed that his weight had dropped in the past years, though she knew nothing of that herself. He still had that sickly look to him, though from what the other housemaids had said, he'd always had health problems, and that they'd actually improved in recent years. He continued to glare at her, those amethyst eyes piercing through her and freezing the room, as he brushed his hand up through his shoulder length blonde hair.

She watched his every action, Every little detail catching her eye... From the detached expression he always wore... To the streaks of greys and silvers in his hair, that only the light from the chandelier seemed to ever pick up. Just another one of the unnatural things about the youth, none of the hired help where quite sure what had lead to that fluke, but the greying tones had been slowly replacing that healthy blonde from almost two years now.

"...What are you staring at?" He remarked, with a sour expression as he strode past her. She exhaled, as he stepped into the mainhall, and headed off towards the drawing room. Thank god that's done with. She continued to watch him for a moment, now at what felt like a safe distance, before strolling off to her next job...

Jizabel stared wistfully at the drawing room door, as his hand ran over the wood before finally coming to rest on the knob. Nothing ever stayed simple, did it? He closed his eyes, as he leaned in and pressed an ear to the door.

"...and at this point, I think it's time we..." there was a pause in Alexis' speech, and Jizabel froze, his heart racing as he heard the man move across the room. Did he... Know? He closed his eyes tightly, unable to move as he felt the door pulled open and away from him, and before he knew it he'd stumbled forward into the open doorway.

"You shouldn't eavesdrop, Jizabel," Alexis remarked, a smirk on the corner of his mouth as he raised his pipe to his lips. The boy raised his head, his right hand gripping the edge of the doorway for support, as he met with his fathers cold eyes. He broke free of that gaze as soon as possible, turning his attention instead too his mother, who was standing silently in the corner with a hand on her chin and her usual distant expression. Of course, the second he looked at her she turned around, taking her focus off of him. This didn't surprise him, She never looked at him. Never.

"You've gotten taller, haven't you?" Alexis remarked, gesturing towards him in an unnaturally casual matter. He was always this way, even when he'd left his son in a broken mass, his dreams shattered, two years prior... That day, he was just the same. As was he on the occasions he came to visit him in the years to come.

No matter what had happened the last time they'd seen eachother, no matter what things he had planned for his child later in the day... No matter what, it was that same sickening, casual air. As if everything was just fine.

"What's wrong, Jizabel? You don't seem pleased to see me? I was expecting more. Afterall, it's been so long, boy."

It had been. Almost six months. Yes, It had been six months since the last time his father had built up his hopes, just the slightest, then crushed them again, leaving him a bloody, wailing heap on the basement floor. He cringed, the thought alone being enough to send waves of pain over the scars on his back. He bit his lip. So here they where again. The same old pattern was about to repeat itself, wasn't it? He shuddered, as he felt Alexis' hand on his shoulder, pulling him into the room.

"Come in, There is something I've been meaning to talk to you about."

How could he act like this? How could he act so normal after everything he'd done? ...and mother. What did she care? Didn't she know? Of course not, she avoided him as much as the servants, especially now...

Alexis turned to the woman, and there was a very brief exchange of words, though it was all flying over Jizabels head. She gave a nod, before walking towards the door, but not without laying her hand on her sons shoulder. He turned, glancing up to her, just to see her close her mouth and turn away. Her graceful hand dropped to her side, and she continued to the door, closing it softly behind her.

Was she going to say something?

It didn't matter. She didn't. All that mattered now was father... The man smirked, sitting down on the loveseat, continuing to smoke his pipe. Jizabel remained standing, although he made his way quietly around the room, never taking his eyes off of his father, watching him no differently then a sheep would watch a wolf prowling on the other side of the fence. No, the drawing room door had been closed behind him. The wolf had gotten in.

"Jizabel, I think it's time I introduced you to... my work."

He remarked, exhaling as smoke filled the room.

--

"Yes, I'll take care of it!"

Jennifer turned with a spin, her dress flowing slightly, as she strolled down the hall on her way to the kitchen, a basket under her left arm, and her right arm hanging free. There was a slight skip to her step that evening, the problems she'd faced earlier in the day long past... Or so she had thought. Reaching the end of the hall, and almost to the kitchen she tripped on the hem of her dress, sending half of her baskets contents spilling onto the floor.

"Damn." She remarked, biting her lip as she kneeled to pick a fresh orange up off the floor, only to find the fruit had rolled to the feat of a certain individual she'd thought she'd seen the last of that day.

"Harsh language," Jizabel remarked, leaning against the wall. She scowled, as she grabbed the oranges, lemons, and various other fruits off the floor, murmuring a small apology while she set them back in her basket, although she did not mean it.

"What are those for?" He muttered, pointing towards her basket.

"...The cook requested them for some of tonights courses... Will you be coming down for dinner this evening, Sir?" She asked, picking the basket back up and gripping it under her arm once more.

"No."

His answer was firm, she could go so far to say it was spoken with disgust, and although she had little clue to the reason, she knew it was best to leave it at that. With a kind nod, she went to pass him. However, he stepped infront of her yet again, blocking the hallway as he leaned against the slender arm he had rested on the wall.

"...S-sir?"

The tension rose, and her heartbeat picked up speed, as he stepped closer to her. Her eyes widening as she noticed the metallic glint of a thin object he'd drawn from his vest pocket.

"...I think that's enough, Jennifer."

A long scream rang through the mansion, as a blood splattered basket fell to the floor, oranges and lemons rolling across the empty hall...

"Here comes a candle to light you to bed,

and here comes a chopper to chop of your head.

Chip, chop.

Chip.

CHOP."

--

Hi guys! Oh yay! It's chapter four! This is the longest one, so far, It probably will stay the longest one for quite awhile. I've had this idea in my head for awhile, a section that was just more Jizabel centric, and not really in the best way. In a morbid way. I used Oranges and Lemons because I wanted to do something Yuki-esque here, keeping with the roots of the manga, so I used a nursery rhyme. Like all good nursery rhymes, it has nice, creepy, grim roots. Isn't that wonderful? Because I used Oranges and Lemons, this is the only chapter in this fic that won't include song lyrics, instead we get... creepy childrens song lyrics. Goody. So, to clarify, in these flashbacks it's been about two years since the whole thing with Snark occurred, I placed his age at about 16. xP

Yes, he's already killin' peoples.

I like writing maids. I've had them in several stories of mine, something about meek, and sometimes bitchy young women makes me happy. xD I'm sorry to all the feminists out there, all the maids I've created and killed in the history of my fiction, and fanfiction, must upset them. I rather like Jennifer, although I know enough about her to think of her as a rather nasty girl on most occasions.

Next chapter gets a rating boost, OH NOES. Dx