Originally made for BB thread, I will say no more because it will ruin the story.


The girl shivered, sending the midnight curls that rippled in disarray down her slender back into shimmery waves. She continued to shake as she looked into the red eyes that glowered back at her. Her mouth seemed to form words, but the sound didn't come out of her lips, partially stained with blood as they were. The one standing over her seemed to know what was said in any case.

"Who am I?" He asked her back, raising a delicately arched brow at the girl of no more than fourteen. She nodded mutely. He smirked. "It doesn't seem to matter at this point, now does it?" He walked towards her, crimson eyes flashing to the carnage around him. She kept her eyes on the shiny black boots as the clicked quietly on the blood soaked floor.

He stopped and bent down to her face, long sharp black nails slid under her chin with surprising gentleness, he tilted her head back and forth. "You are quite pretty, the looks are from your mother I presume," He nodded towards one of the bloodied corpses, whose blonde curls mixed with the blood round her pretty face, hiding it from view. The girl managed to speak, "Yes," She whispered.

"Ah, I'm sorry for your loss then," He said, and brushed the bloody locks out of the mothers face, he hummed with amusement. "Why if it isn't Lady Elizabeth. The years have treated you well," And indeed they had. Not a mark or wrinkle marred her fair skin; long lashes supported deep green eyes that were heavy lidded in death. "You knew her?" The girl asked, her own green eyes frozen on her mother, who looked lovely even drenched in the red liquid of death. 'Indeed I did," He answered smirking as he straightened up.

The girl was starting to lose her fear now; instead, a curious numb sensation was filling her. She wondered if she were dying too. "If it doesn't matter who you are; then may I ask what you are?" A deeper smirk, his eyes flashed a deeper crimson. "Very intelligent, I'm surprised," Her cheeks flushed in anger. "Well, I think it is sufficed to say I am, how to put this, 'One hell of a person?'" The girl was not amused. She spent a few minutes working on the idiom before saying, "So, you are a demon then?" The demon laughed. "Oh yes, you are quite the intelligent specimen, how intriguing." She kept her eyes focused on the midnight heels as she asked her next question. "Did you kill the people here?" She asked quietly, despite the emotions that had suddenly flared to the surface and overcome the numb fog. The demon smirked again. "Oh no, not I little one." He purred silkily as he stood over her.

"Who did?" She asked, but the demon seemed to have lost interest in that particular discussion. "What is your name girl?" He asked suddenly, his blood red eyes turning to her suddenly. "I want you to answer my other question first." She said stubbornly. Suddenly she found that perhaps bravery was not the best trait she had as black nails pinned her to the wall. She gulped as the thinnest trickle of blood slid down her pale throat, noticing details about the demon she had missed before. His hair was dark as coal, and messily styled. His pupils were but thin slits. "When I ask you a question girl," He hissed at her through pointed teeth that the girl had no doubt could bite through her easily. "You answer it." His breath smelled of blood and something that reminded her of death, but for some reason did not smell bad, rather it enticed her. She nodded weakly, her lungs screaming for air. He released her and she collapsed to the floor, gasping for breath.

"So, I believe I asked you something?" He said, she coughed a few times, and then managed to wheeze out, "Sierra," as her lungs refilled themselves over and over. The demon drummed his dark fingers on his arm as he crossed them in a motion almost dainty. "Si, er, ra," The demon lengthened out the syllables. The name rolled off his tongue like black water, enticing and arousing. Sierra blushed in spite of herself.

"Is it spelled with a C?" The demon asked her curiously. Sierra shook her head. The demon hummed as he thought.

Sierra worked up her courage again. "Are you going to eat me?" she asked. The demon smirked once more. "Probably," He told her. "It is a pity, Lady Elizabeth was a former acquaintance of mine, and it is quite rude to eat her offspring, but I am quite hungry, and you do smell quite lovely you know," He told her as leisurely as many spoke of the weather. She shivered involuntarily; the demon gave a dark chuckle. "You should be honored actually; I do not choose my meals quite as easily as many do these days."

The girl managed a glare at him, while inside she feared pain from the action. He merely grinned wider, like a cat, she thought. "What should I take it as then?" She snapped, egged on by his smirk, his laughing eyes, his very presence seemed to put her on edge. "A love confession?" The demon chuckled again, and again he was leaning down toward her. "That actually might be quite close, though now the way that I care for my meals is on a slightly deeper level," he whispered, his face mere inches from hers, and his voice was seducing, enticing, Sierra's head spun as she tried to look away, but then he was kissing her. She gasped and tried to pull away, but there was nothing to pull away into, her head was against the bloodstained wall. He pulled away, leaving her gasping as he licked the corner of his mouth, his eyes laughing silently.

She tried to be mad, to be murderous, just plain hurt. But all she could think about was his lips warm against hers, his tongue sliding slowly over the curves of her own. If her face had not been red before, it was now. She brought a hand up to cover her mouth, as if he might strike again. He chuckled once more, his eyes showing his obvious delight at her reaction. "Who are you?" Sierra gasped. Dizzy and confused, somehow his face seemed familiar; she knew she had seen it somewhere before, a picture perhaps?

The demon smiled broadly, his razor teeth clearly visible in his delight. "Oh I think you know exactly who I am Sierra." He said, his voice rumbled with dark pleasure. Indeed, Sierra knew exactly where she had seen him now. "You," She gasped. "Phantomhive," He stooped down, fingering Elizabeth's golden tresses. Sierra felt sick, how could this thing be the person her mother had spoken so highly of. Capable and honest she had called him. "She always did enjoy taking pictures, I'm sure you've seen more than one with me in it." The girl was mute again, choked by the scream that cried to be set free. She nodded.

He looked her over, his face suddenly serious, then nodding, as though in acknowledgement. "Your hair is curly, like your mothers, you have her eyes too, but that color," He frowned, and glanced over at the other corpse that had gone ignored during the time she had seen him. "Your father?" he asked. She nodded stiffly as the scream redoubled its efforts. "You have his hair color." He murmured, half to himself and half to her.

She swallowed the scream, taking several deep breaths through her nose to make sure it was gone. The smell of the carnage around her no longer bothered her. "She never really got over you," She told the demon, her voice was hoarse, as though she had let the scream out. "That's why she married him you know," She said nodding her head towards her father. The demon looked a little surprised "Why him?" He asked her. "You must know he looks like you," She told him, her face a blank mask. "Is that so," The demon mumbled, a hand to his chin in thought.

"Will you answer my question now?" She asked him, her face calm, eyes set like frozen emeralds. "Ah, the one you interrupted me so rudely with?" The demon asked as he flicked a stray hair out of his eye. "Yes," She said stonily. He smiled. "Alright then," His eyes glittered in an almost sadistic manner. "You did my dear," He told her. She glared back. "I want the truth," She hissed angrily at him. He strode over to her, talking once more, his voice a low purr. "Oh but it is the truth," He told her, once more crouching down. "Why else," he gripped her hands tightly and brought them up to the level of her eyes. "Would your lovely hands be stained so much with the blood of your loved ones?" She made to protest, but the demon forced open a hand she had kept clenched without meaning to. A knife, glittering with crimson regrets, danced as it hit the floor with a musical sound.

The girl shook. It couldn't be, but there it was, and she remembered anger now, nothing but anger. Her mother always said her temper would get her in trouble. The girl screamed finally, all of the things she had swallowed down. She broke completely, beat her fists upon the floor, and called their names, though they could not hear. The demon stood back and watched mild fascination with the scene before him. But then he clicked his tongue regretfully and grabbed her flailing arms. "I would love to stay and comfort you, but really I am hungry." The girl shook terribly with grief and fear, but did not fight. She didn't want to. "Now hold still, and it may not hurt so much." He told her, then, he leaned in once more.