Author's Note: Hi! So, I've been watching Black Butler off and on for a while now, and this story just sort of popped into my head. I've got like ten chapters written, but I'm not going to post more than two a week until I'm certain I can keep up with this. My priority is going to this drabble-esque story of mine.

Anyway, I hope you like this!

Disclaimer: I do not own Kuroshitsuji.

Chapter 1: Her Pain.

The cobbled streets of London seemed particularly dull that day.

Sitting in a crouch upon a random rooftop, the woman breathed in deeply, appearing to test the night air. A serene, calm expression rested on her features, but then her face twisted into an irritated scowl. She could smell blood. "Ahead of schedule, are we?" she muttered to herself.

"So, it's going to be one of those nights."

Glancing back over her shoulder, she gave a dazzling smile to the male behind her. He wore an expensive looking suit, one that was both decent yet dull, along with a pair of reading glasses sitting on the edge of his nose. Lifting up a clipboard from under his arm, he frowned at the papers. "This means more paperwork." His other arm rose to reveal a large metal pole with what looked to be gardening shears attached to either end, which he lifted up to adjust the reading glasses on his face.

"Oh, come now, William," the woman stated with a pout. "Paperwork or not, isn't it overkill to send two reapers out on a job?" She gave him a teasing smile. "Not that I don't mind your company."

His back straightened. "Officially, I am here to assess the validity of the Board's worries over your recent behavior."

"I've gotten all of my work done," she muttered, her scowl returning as she stared off into the distance. "Their precious asset is just as productive as ever." When all he did was frown at her, she let out a low sigh. "Unofficially?..."

With a softer look that few rarely saw with the man, he replied, "We're worried about you, Isabella."

Stiffly, she rose on her heeled boots, her face blank but eyes flashing magenta. "Forgive me for worrying about him. It's been nearly a month, William. A whole month." Magenta fading back to a familiar blood red, almost black iris, her voice came out near broken. "I just want to know where my little cousin is. I deserve that much."

"He is not dead, I can assure you that much."

"There are fates worse than death, I can assure you that much."

His head tilted as he observed the young woman before him. Past prejudices aside, he had grown to care for her over her few years as a Reaper. Surprising as it was, he thought of her as his little sister, as his to guide and protect. But he knew better.

She was beyond protection.

Her lithe figure was outlined in the moonlight, showing off her subtle curves and pale skin that seemed almost translucent. How she had ever passed as human during her childhood, he could never understand, between her strange eyes and unnatural beauty. She looked so inhuman…

But what could one expect from a half demon?

Her blue-black hair had messily fallen from the bun at the back of her neck, wrapping around her shoulders as the breeze sought to set loose the rest of the strands. Black, leather gloved hands, ones with her fingers left exposed, reached up to pull her hair back into another loose bun, even though he knew it would fall yet again once their work began. The thick curls just never seemed to obey her.

Hands dropping to rest back at her side, she turned to face him, plastering on a familiar, kind smile that she usually wore. Scooping up her jacket from the ground beside her, she flipped it through the air while sliding her arms in, the black trench coat tailored to fit her like a glove, though she left the double breasted front unbuttoned, as usual. The split tail of the coat flowed in the breeze, and the sleeves had been rolled up past her elbows, leaving her forearms bare.

"Come on, William." Her hand reached for her hip, clad in tight black pants the were certainly not fitting for a woman raised to be a lady, and she grasped the cylindrical device attached to a holster. "We've got work to do." She held the device out in front of her chest, which was clad in a simple black corset, and with the twist of her wrist, the device extended to become longer than she was tall, with a devastatingly sharp sickle flicking out of either end on opposing sides.

Within a blink, she leapt to the side, landing on the opposite rooftop of him and darted off, a musical laughter following after her. He sighed. "Yes, I do not want to have to apply for overtime again." Adjusting his glasses once more, he took off after the younger Reaper.

"What a mess…" she muttered, glancing around the room in distaste.

"So uncivilized…" William muttered, looking from the corpses to girl. "So, how would you like to do this?"

She shrugged, moving to lean against her edged sickle. "I don't care. You pick."

"You watch and cut the film reels, I shall file the necessary paperwork. You're horrid at filing out forms."

"Hey!" she snapped as she lifted her death scythe in a playfully threatening way at him. "Don't be an asshole. Even though that's extremely hard for you, William."

He merely rolled his eyes, lifting his clipboard to begin jotting down notes. "Ha, ha. Make sure not to snack on any of the souls. I don't want to file the paperwork on why I had to kill you."

"As if I would eat a soul," she muttered as she strode up to the first Cinematic Record playing out of a man's chest. Reaching a hand into her trench, she fished out her pair of glasses, a simple black-rimmed pair since she often had to replace them due to 'misplacing' her old ones. "Never have, never will."

"Good girl."

Silence fell as the two set about their tasks, with William diligently jotting down notes, and Isabella watching the films, the scenes reflecting in her glasses while she rested her chin in her hand while planting her elbow on her crouched knee. The room itself appeared to be a large viewing auditorium, with grand pillars and the stands being made of pristine, white marble. Towards the center of the room, three oversized metal cages sat, each stained with blood, as well as a white marble alter, this being drenched in more blood than the cages.

The floor at the center of the room, however, depicted a large inlay of some symbol…

Isabella found it best not to get too curious about that.

Starting from the far top corner of the room with the intent to work downwards towards the center, she avoided looking towards the alter. Isabella mentally gagged, not from just her senses being sharped and the blood smell being overpowering, but from the purpose of the alter that made her unbearably sad. "I hate cases with children…" she muttered to William.

"Yes, it appears as if the humans were sacrificing the children in some sort of ritual." He tried to remain neutral, but disgust had managed to creep its way into his voice.

"I can't believe I'm half human."

"Well, not anymore," William quipped, "Since you replaced your humanity with a Reaper status. Now, all you have is the filthy demon blood infecting your veins."

"Aren't you the charmer," she snapped sarcastically, turning back to the film. "Speaking of demon… Holy shit."

"Let me guess: a demon slaughtered them?"

"Well, now I know why they insisted I take the case." Eyes still locked on the film, she whistled before slicing the film with her scythe and moving to the next. "Hope this guy isn't lurking around still. From the looks of the films, he is bad news… and I really don't feel like a fight."

"Likely an Ancient," William replied. "Rarely do younger or even middle aged demons leave so many heavily tainted souls untouched. I feel pity for the fool who contracted him—"

"NO!"

The horrific screech she made caused William to nearly drop his clipboard and death scythe. Whipping his head round to look at his partner, he watched her shove away the Cinematic Record, nearly in tears. Her face turned to meet his, and she looked so lost. So upset.

"Give me the clipboard!" she yelled, leaping down from the stands to land at his side. Rather than wait for him to hand it over, she immediately yanked the board away and began flipping through the pages. "He isn't here, why isn't he here?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Ciel, my cousin! He was in that monster's Cinematic Records. He was here during the ceremony, and oh god, they tortured him! Why isn't he in the paper work?! Where is he?!"

Grabbing her by the shoulders, he forced the hysterical young woman to look at him. "Calm yourself: If he isn't in the paperwork, then he isn't dead!"

"Think, William! Think! A demon slaughtered all of the witnesses. A demon killed all of a demonic cult who was torturing and then killing young children. Tell me, why would he do that, why would he kill the cult, and why would he let a young boy being tortured live?!" William's face paled, and he drew Isabella close, letting her bury her face into his chest while she sobbed.

The demon killed the cult because he was ordered to do so.

And the child lived because he was the one to contract the demon to do so.

God, help that poor boy. God, save poor Ciel Phantomhive's soul.