A possibly Sebastian/OC fragment. It has a much longer story behind it, but I probably won't continue it anytime soon, since I have other stories I need to finish. Maybe eventually. Let me know what you think.

Given that night had fallen over the Phantomhive mansion hours upon hours ago, one would have assumed that no one should have been wandering the ornate halls. However, given the butler being no less than extraordinary in his dedication to his work, one's assumption could be altered to say that it was odd to have more than one set of footsteps echoing the varnished recesses of the home. But there they were: one sultry, quiet clack of men's heels and the light, measured tap of something like a moccasin, so soft against the floors that only the shifting of the wearer's weight was audible. Dust could be scented on the still air.

Tap. Whirr. Tap. Whirr. Tap. Whirr. Tap.

Silence.

"Sebastian, what is this?"

The butler paused in arranging the tea platters to focus his eyes on the small brass object held up between his lord's fingers.

"It is a clock key, young master."

"I can see that for myself, Sebastian. What is it doing on top of my paperwork?"

Smiling at the first spat of the day, Sebastian placed a china cup before the haughty preadolescent as he explained.

"Earlier this morning, you ordered the servants, myself included, to clean out the basement. That key was one of the objects found which I was uncertain about throwing out. It does not belong to any of the clocks in the mansion, so I delivered it to you in case you knew what it belonged to."

"I don't recognize it," Ciel Phantomhive stated brusquely, eyeing the key as he would a rather nasty insect. "Perhaps it goes with something in the attic?"

"That may be the case. Would you like me to check?"

"Do you what you will," was the response, muffled from behind a teacup.

In the evening, the butler found the time to do just that, although not without the notice of three pairs of prying eyes. The other servants followed timidly behind as Sebastian ascended the ominous-looking steps to the attic. The room might have been fairly spacious had there not been clutter everywhere, boxes stacked on top of boxes along with other miscellaneous objects one may not have expected to find in a mansion. Finny sneezed, sending up a cloud of dust.

"Do you see anything requiring a clock key?" Sebastian inquired without truly expecting an answer, rifling carefully through the stacks.

"Not that I can see."

"Nothing over here!"

"Eek!"

Three head turned towards the yelp and the ensuing thud, and were not surprised to find Mey-Rin collapsed on the floor among a pile of books. Straightening hurriedly, she tried to hide her embarrassed blush as the men chided her. Halfway to her feet, however, she caught sight of something in the corner.

"What is that?"

After pushing aside a few more stacks of books, the group discovered what appeared at first glance to be a person. Upon closer inspection, however, Sebastian found that the dust-covered skin was only porcelain, molded into a feminine shape and dressed in an outfit similar to a maid's uniform, but more decorated and finely made, as befitting a life-size doll. Blank glass eyes stared out from behind silky bronze locks.

"Wow," was the first word to break the silence. "That thing scared me."

"Scared you, Baldo? But it's so pretty."

"I thought it was a dead body!" the chef defended.

Mey-Rin hesitantly reached out to touch the doll, peering at the arms, the face, shifting it to see behind it—and let out a cry of realization.

"Hey! There's a keyhole right here!"

Sure enough, in the left shoulder blade was a neat opening in the shape of a lock. Each servant automatically turned to Sebastian, who held out the clock key, inserted it—a perfect fit—and gave it several twists.

Nothing happened.

Sighing, the butler straightened up.

"That's enough dilly-dallying for one day. Back to work, everyone."

With disappointment evident on their faces, the other three filed out of the attic and down the stairs. Sebastian spared the doll a cold glance before closing the door behind him and walking out, leaving the clock key inside the keyhole.

That night, the second pair of footsteps appeared.

"My lord, it is time to wake up."

Ciel nuzzled deeper into the covers, still half-asleep.

"My lord. Please wake up, sir."

He again brushed off the voice before it slowly began to register that it was not his butler's.

"Lord Vincent."

His eyes snapped open. Jerking upright in bed, the young earl gaped in a rather undignified manner at the prim form standing ramrod straight just next to his bedroom door. Steel blue eyes, just a shade different from his own, stared sharply into his face; her taut expression seemed slightly hostile at first glance but was dampened by the respectful posture the young woman had assumed, hands folded in front of her and the heels of her black slippers pressed together to form a "v" shape. Speechless, Ciel opened and closed his mouth like a dying fish. This was dispassionately observed by the young woman before him.

"Lord Phantomhive, is such behavior not undignified?"

Ciel closed his mouth, self-conscious, and cleared his throat, leveling a suspicious glare on the woman.

"What did you call me?" he demanded calmly.

"Lord Phantomhive."

"No, before that."

"Lord Vincent, then."

Ciel Phantomhive went silent for a long moment.

"Who are you?"

One too-perfectly arched brow raised a hair's breadth before she replied, "I am your servant, Ainslee Oakheart, sir."

Ciel was unsure of what to say next, but was saved when his butler chose that moment to knock and open the door, pushing a breakfast cart. Sebastian's smile dimmed the moment he spotted the girl.

"Who are you?" This came not from Sebastian, but from the doll he was sure he had seen immobile up in the attic. Sending a questioning glance towards his employer, Sebastian replied, "I am Sebastian Michaelis, butler to the Phantomhive house."

"That is not possible. Mr. Tanaka is the Phantomhive butler."

Understanding was slowly beginning to creep into the two men's faces, followed by more questions.

"Lord Vincent? Is something the matter?" the doll inquired. Pausing, Ciel cleared his throat.

"Ainslee Oakheart, I believe you are mistaking me for my father. My name is Ciel Phantomhive, sole heir to the Phantomhive name."

Although her expression did not change, the doll seemed startled and confused. After a long silence, Sebastian stepped in.

"Miss Oakheart, are you aware that you are a doll?"

"That is correct. I am Lord Vincent Phantomhive's doll and servant. Where is he?"

"He is dead," Ciel replied immediately. "Both of my parents are dead."

"Who is your mother?"

"Rachel Durless."

"I see. Then my lord managed to acquire her hand after all." A somewhat detached smile spread over her lips. "If he is indeed gone, then I belong to her now."

"She is also dead."

The doll's smile vanished.

"Then to whom do I belong?"

"As Vincent Phantomhive's heir, most likely myself," Ciel answered wearily.

"I see." The faintest whirring of gears reached the butler's ears as the doll curtsied elaborately, although stiffly; she was like a porcelain ballet dancer. "I look forward to serving you, my lord."

Sebastian's maroon eyes caught sight of the clock key still sticking out of her shoulder blade. It was not turning, but it did not fall out when she moved, either. Later he would discover that in the evenings, when she wandered the halls of the mansion, it did turn; slowly, quietly, as her glassy blue eyes flickered in dreamlike fear.