The long awaited chapter three! Thank you all so much for the favorites and follows! Even if you just read it without doing anything else, it means so much to me! In return, I will try to respond to any PMs or any reviews I feel need a response and read some of your stories – if you've written any – in return.

Disclaimer – I do not own Kuroshitsuji or its characters. Those both belong to the immensely lucky Yana Toboso.

Warnings – Slight SebaCiel and some gore and lots of violence.

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The boy could not see a thing except for the swirling of colors swimming beneath his eyelids, brought on by the delusions of being trapped in between worlds. He was not going to attempt to question his current state, for his consciousness was still ensnared in that dark memory, the one that would often plague his dreams. The scene that had played in the child's mind before was starting to become muddled, the details growing fuzzier as time passed. He couldn't quite remember the critical aspects of the memory. Was the butler his savior or his tormentor? Did he agree to the Contract willingly or was he forced into it?

Ice cold fingers wrapped around his torso, squeezing until he felt the knots in his spine pop. They pulled him out of the suspension in his memories and back into… his bedroom? A demented, hellish version instead of the serene atmosphere the child was used to, perhaps. Not a single drop of sunlight was able to seep into the room, since the windows were smothered with thick black curtains. The walls appeared as if they were covered with inky wraiths, each of them wriggling when wind blew through.

If the boy concentrated hard enough, he could peel away the dark shadows clogging his vision. He could barely making out a lump that lay under the ivory sheets of his bed, curled into a fetal position. For all he knew, it could've been a rotting corpse, that was how still the body was. It hit him right then, just who the body belonged to. The coverlets were not enough to mask the body that the boy loved and loathed so much.

He could now see that the man's chest moved up and down ever so slightly, drawing in breaths that were much unneeded, and that there were tiny strands of black hair clinging to the pillows. It would seem that not only was the boy trapped inside his head, but he was also able to venture outside and view the Butler's actions from afar. Ciel Phantomhive had always known that a soul devoured by a demon would go to neither Heaven nor Hell, but he had not realized how terrible it would be.

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His Butler

After he realized how pitiable his current state was, he peeled the sheets off him, his body instantly cooling down as air recirculated his neglected limbs. They popped and cracked as he crawled into a sitting position on the edge of his young Master's bed.

Oh dear… His appearance was a frightful thing, his silky ebony hair tangled beyond repair and his eyes red from… crying? He believed it was the first time he'd ever succumbed to the pathetic emotion that afflicted so many humans.

He changed his appearance so he may look presentable, then headed to the kitchen to fix his Master some afternoon tea. The realization hit him like a death scythe, so hard his legs gave out from under him. He could practically feel the metaphorical blades of a certain reaper's chainsaw tearing into his chest, his heart, which managed to alleviate his mental pain if only for a moment. After the feelings of abandonment and betrayal passed, the most prominent became abhorrence. The demon refused to think the words. That he actually… ate…

Mei-Rin passed by, glasses atop her head, with a look of somber pity pointed in his direction. She made no move to help him though. All four servants had come to accept that the butler had had a hand in the Master's murder, they just did not know how deep it was. That not only did he fail to protect the Earl, but he had been the one to actually take his life.

She wore the Phantomhive maid uniform, only the colors were changed to black and dark greys to match the despondency of its wearer. Her maroon hair was left to fall just shy of her elbows and her burgundy eyes were filled with gloom and fiery hatred, though not pointed in the Butler's direction. They had all promised that if they were to find the murderer, they would give him hell for his grievous mistake. If only they knew…

In one fluent move, the Butler was up and standing, giving Mei-Rin a nod as he walked. There was a person he must meet…

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"BAAAAAAHAAAHAHAHAHAHA!" Hunched over a coffin, breathless from laughter, laid the Undertaker. As soon as the Butler had stepped foot in the retired reaper's 'Death Shop', he was bombarded with the usual nonsense. Unfortunately, the loon was deprived of laughter, so he did as he was told.

The Shinigami's chackling ceased as he sighed at the ex-servant's expression. "Quite a shame what befell the young Lord, ain't it? I wonder how it happened." Now the fool is just trying to be annoying. The Butler cut him a glare before slumping over the coffin next to his, all of his energy gone from the agonizing past few days.

"I'm afraid there ain't nothing I can do about your little Lord. Guess you shouldn't 'ave ate him. William tried to warn you. Hunger is a beast when not controlled." Sebastian bit back a growl, his knife-sharp teeth digging into his tongue. The sharp taste of copper quickly spread through his mouth. He silently cursed his weak human body.

Grim Reapers had access to Cinematic Records, a record of all the memories a human had collected during their short lifetime. Then, they determined whether or not to bring that human back to life or to collect their soul, most times being the latter. It may have been a bit late, but there was still a chance that his Master could be brought back. He would stoop to that pathetic level if it would bring back his beloved Earl. If not, then what purpose did the Butler have staying here?

"It was his time to go anyways. Your contract was fulfilled, yes? I suggest searchin' for another Master." The glossy black wood of the coffin shattered where the demon's hand had punched through it, where the Undertaker's head had been laying just moments before.

"That option is absolutely not a valid one. I refuse to live a life where my Master is not involved, for a life without my Master is a life I do not wish to live. Existence without him is quite a bore…" The Undertaker flashed him an irritating grin, his arms flailing as he ran over to the butler from the dark corner he'd fled to to avoid the Butler's fist.

Despite what some people may think, the Undertaker is not stupid. Far from it, in actuallity. And so, naturally, he knew that that wasn't the only reason the demon wanted his Master back.

"How pathetic. As you said when we first conversed, he is just an insignificant human. Now you're telling me he meant everything to you? You must simply move on. Even I shall miss his mundane, childish antics, but you do not see me acting so pathetically." And with that, the Butler decided the conversation had dragged on long enough. He said goodbye in the only way he could… By attempting to wring the reaper's neck and then exiting the store.

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His Fiancée

Her days used to be filled with color. Colorful dresses, colorful food, colorful parties. But without him, everything had faded to black and white. The dress she wore itself was black, almost as dark as the way she was feeling. The girl had wanted to wear a beautiful royal blue dress in his honor, but instead chose black. That was the only color that widows could wear, right?

She had managed to make it to his funeral without shedding a tear, though the process was making her eyes burn. She wanted to cry so badly, to just curl up in a ball and let herself be buried along with him. But she had to be strong. Besides, she'd lost the only thing she cared about. It was almost as if she couldn't cry, as if any feelings of emotion had shriveled up and died. Perhaps that was what her beloved had felt after the fire.

Now that she was at in the church, she let the tears fall. She knew that would be the last time she cried before she became as emotionless as the boy in the casket. Alive, Ciel Phantomhive was a very formidable figure, so much stronger and brave than his small stature would suggest. But laying in that casket, he looked exactly as a boy his age should. Small and frail, his face peaceful.

"He has departed from us now, as all mankind must the Earth, as someday, we all must. His flesh shall turn to ashes, but his spirit will remain with the Lord. May God watch over his eternal soul and keep…" The minster's voice was lost, just white noise in the grieving widow's ears.

She'd never liked the church, with its peeling white walls and it's artificially stained glass, so dirty and grimy it was barely even colourful. Well, at least that was the way it appeared in her mind. She frantically batted her eyelashes, attempting to keep the dust particles floating in the air from flying into her eyes, which would only make her cry harder.

Overwhelmed, she scanned the room, looking for any familiar faces. Mei-Rin, Bardroy, Finnian, Tanaka, and Sebastian all stood next to each other in the far back of the room.

Finnian gave her a faint smile, waving weakly with his gloved hand. Though Mei-Rin's glasses were off and her eyes cold, she gave the girl a smirk, as pitiful an attempt as the gardener's. Tanaka just stared on, wise understanding in his eyes. Bardroy, so miserable that he didn't even have a cigarette between his lips, was unable to meet her eyes. And Sebastian… He was the worst of them all.

His stoic resolve had melted away to show a haggard, lost man. It was written on his face. He believed he was solely responsible for the situation, and it was tearing him up inside. If the girl herself wasn't in as bad a state, she would walk over and comfort him.

After the minister had finished, she walked up to the Earl's body. She wrapped his lifeless hand in hers, his skin pale but smooth. It was as if his eyes could pop open at any moment. His cheeks still looked flush with life and his barely open eyes were still bright. Her eyes filled up with tears once more as she kissed the boy's forehead. One of her tears dripped onto his face, marking a path down his cheek.

She could not take it anymore. The faint sunlight streaming through the windows stung her eyes, which had since been dried of tears, and her throat felt swollen. She could not breathe. She rushed out of the doors, and kept running. All sadness fled her in that moment, replaced by a murderous hatred. She was going to kill him.

She was going to kill the man that ended Ciel Phantomhive.

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