Author's Note: Okay, this is longer than most chapters, but i couldn't figure out how else to break it up, and I need to finish this flashback. So, enjoy!

Disclaimer: I do not own Kuroshitsuji.

Chapter 12: His Carriage.

Garnering a carriage had been fairly easy for the butler, and the young girl insisted she would pay him back once they reached her uncle's mansion. When she told the driver her destination, however, the butler could not help but raise a brow.

"You are the niece of the Earl Phantomhive?"

"Mm-hmm…" she responded as she settled into the carriage, he following suit. "My mama was his sister. I like to think of myself as a Phantomhive more than Lancaster, which is my Father's family name…" Suddenly, her eyes widened. "Oi! We never gave names! Mine is Isabella. What's your name?"

He chuckled at the slip into innocence the girl showed as she eagerly awaited his name. "Its Gerald Barnes." Her face scrunched up in displeasure. "I know, my Master chose it. Absolutely dreadful, isn't it?"

"Your Master named you?" The butler nodded. With a tilt of her head, she quipped, "That's odd. Can I give you a different name?"

With a devious grin, he replied, "Only if I like it."

"Then I will think up a good one!" She gave him the most dazzling smile, one that actually reached her eyes. Then, she leaned over to her trunk next to her, pulling out a large pad of paper and some sharpened charcoal, much to the butler's surprise. Tucking herself into the corner of her seat, legs folded up under her skirts, she began to sketch, facing in a way where he could not see her papers. Soon, after, her voice softly filled the carriage, singing the words to that song she hummed.

"Don't you e'er laugh as a hearse goes by,
For you may be the next to die."

So, she finally gave the song words. As he listened to her words, he had to suppress a chuckle at the morbid tune. Of course this child would know such a song. Though she certainly was not the most musically gifted with her voice, she fortunately was not unbearable to listen to.

"They wrap you up in a big white sheet,
From your head down to your feet.
The put you in a big black box
And pile ya down with dirt and rocks."

"All goes well for about a week,
Then your coffin begins to leak.
The worms crawl in, the worms crawl out,
In your stomach and out your mouth.
A big black bug with two red eyes…"

"Crawls up your gut and out your eyes.
They invite their friends, and their friends too,
And they all come over to chew on you.
And this is what it is to die,
I hope you had a nice goodbye.
Did you ever think as a hearse goes by,
That you may be the next to die?"

Guessing that marked the end to the song, the girl fell into a soft humming as she focused in more on her sketch. The butler found himself amused and intrigued by the girl, this Isabella Phantomhive. Such taint and innocence existing in one small child. He wondered what her soul tasted like. Perhaps when he finished with this contract, he would seek out a child like her. That would certainly be entertaining.

Though, as he thought that, he realized how he refused to entertain the idea of contracting her soul. Its not as if he couldn't: Half-demon souls were still valid souls. But he found himself not wanting to consume this girl. Though he was sure he could make one hell of a meal out of her, he felt as if he would be betraying her. She obviously trusted few, and he would not take advantage of this rare and fragile trust she placed upon him.

For a while, that's how the ride went. Her humming and sketching, and him staring at her with a thoughtful expression. Finally, she broke the silence, speaking quietly and without looking away from her sketch. "You're not human, are you?"

Though his eyes widened in shock, the only motion he made was to slowly tilt his head while observing her. "No. No, I am not. Does that scare you?"

"No," she responded firmly. Then, turning her head to meet his gaze, she added, "I'm not human either, am I?"

He chuckled lowly. "Not fully. You are a half demon. Most certainly on your father's side since you know your mother's family." With a smirk, he added, "How did you know you were not fully human?"

"My sketches and paintings," she turned black to her work, adding a few more scratches of her charcoal before smudging it with her little fingers. "I see things I'm not supposed to."

"Like what?"

"Like you." Before he could question her, she carefully sat down her charcoal before handing her sketch to him. "That's you, isn't it?"

Before him sat a beautifully haunting work that he could not imagine being done by a child in a bumpy carriage. Though his true form was terrifying and hideous by normal human standards, she made him seem almost angel-like, but of the fallen variety. Crow feathers swirled loosely around his frame, and though more towards the abstract side, this was certainly his demon form.

"The eyes are wrong," he bluntly stated as he stared at the blank spaces where his eyes should be.

"Forgive me for not having magenta charcoals," she snapped, causing him to look back at her as she crossed her arms and huffed. "Besides, I doubt I could do them justice."

His lips quirked into a smirk, before looking back to the sketchbook, carefully leafing through the loosely bound pages. "What other kinds of things do you see?"

"I think they are foreshadowings…" Her voice came out hesitantly. "Some have happened, like a painting I did of a maid being crushed by a bookshelf… others haven't. But the images just appear in my head, and they don't go away till I paint or sketch them."

"Astounding…" he murmured as he looked at more of the sketches, most seeming to lean towards the more macabre type of work. "But not all of these are predications, correct?"

"None of those are, besides your sketch. I tend to prefer to paint my predications."

"Such a dark mind for a child…"

She simply shrugged.

Finally flipping back to his sketch, he grinned. "May I keep this?" A smile lit up her face at his request, and she dug through her trunk to pull out what looked to be a small scalpel and a thin paintbrush.

Hopping up from her seat to plop down beside him, he watched curiously as she used the scalpel to cut a shallow grove along her left palm. Then, she picked up her paintbrush to dip into the small cut. Leaning over the sketchbook that was still in his lap, she carefully painted her name in the bottom corner of the page, occasionally dabbing the brush back into the cut.

Finally leaning back up from the sketch, she grinned triumphantly. "There! A piece of art should always carry a bit of the artist. Now, its from my mind and body."

She expected some kind of response from him, but all she got was a blank faced stare. Her brow furrowed, unsure of how to respond, that is until he carefully sat aside the picture and grasped her small hand. He stared intently at the small pool of blood in her palm. "Such a strange creature…" he muttered.

Eventually, he lifted her hand to his mouth and drew his tongue along the cut. She made a sound of protest, but stopped as she felt the sting of the cut fade away. Drawing her palm back to herself, though he still lightly grasped the sides of it, she watched as the wound quickly stitched itself shut, leaving not even a hint of a scar. "How…"

The demon grinned. "I am simply one hell of a butler."

At that point, the carriage drew to a stop, and she nearly pouted. The butler sent her an amused look before carefully rolling up her sketch and tucking it away in his jacket while she repacked her items into her trunk.

Exiting the carriage first, he turned around to help her follow behind him. One hand took hers, and the other took her trunk from her. "Will I ever see you again?" she asked, eyes turned to the ground.

Lifting her chin with his white-gloved hand and offering a sly smirk, his red eyes glinting, he drawled, "Perhaps… You certainly are interesting, Lady Isabella Phantomhive. It certainly was a pleasure meeting you."

She beamed at his praise. "You were not so bad yourself… and I do believe I've come up with a name for you."

"Oh?" he asked, raising a brow at the small girl at his side.

With a wide grin, she bobbed her head in affirmation. "I think you look like a Sebastian! Sebastian Michaelis!"

With a tilt of his head, he pondered the name. Though a bit more showy then what his other masters have named him, he realized that this name suited him the most. With a grin, he stated, "Well, then, my Lady, from now on, that shall be my name with you."

Before she could speak, she heard the mansion doors open. Looking over her shoulder, she saw the elderly Tanaka standing in the doorway holding a candle while her uncle stepped out into the night air to greet her. She smiled and waved, before turning back to speak to her demon.

But, she found herself alone.