Black Butler: A Second Encounter Part 5

       Yes, I am remorseful.

       And yes, I am a fiend.

       These are the things that I’ve decided within the last three hours as I walk from Bristol in the direction of London.

       I don’t often feel regretful or admit to being the culpable one in a dispute, but this seems to be one of those unique moments where both apply, and William T. Spears is the catalyst.

       With time to contemplate, I realize that I did indeed have no intention of harming William – either physically or emotionally. Unfortunately, it hadn’t turned out that way: rather, I had foolishly and uncouthly placed my own interests above my promise to him that he would not regret our partnership.

       I remember my moments of admiration for Spears… Separating myself from the arrogance that had been blinding me, I realize that I had betrayed the trust of that very same being simply out of boredom, and if it wasn’t for that, he and I would still be allies… An occurrence like this is certainly worth punishment on my part.

       William calling off our alliance – although rightfully deserved – is not great enough of a penalty for the acts I have committed, and because of my level of power, physical pain isn’t, either. Obviously, the punishment must befit the crime; it seems only fair that Spears is the one to choose what that would entail. The only questions now are: how do I find William again, and how do I persuade him to accept my repentance?

       Doubt begins to gnaw at the edges of my thoughts… Perhaps our chance encounters have finally ended, and our luck of seeing each other has run out. The very concept of such pains me; to have no choice but to leave things as they are…

       I recall the way in which Spears reacted only three hours ago… I remember that he was angry, but more importantly, I remember that he was afraid. It seems that the fear was always there, growing more and more prominent, but I was oblivious to it until tonight. I berate myself silently for not noticing it sooner and for potentially allowing those emotions to be the last he will associate with me.

       I fear that I’ve damaged his impression of me and reinforced his idea of the wickedness of demons. To be perfectly honest, however, there is indeed quite a bit of truth to the notion. I pride myself in being far more civilized than the others of my kind, but even I still lack understanding for many of the nuances of human emotion and expression. I find it all unnecessarily complex. It is unfortunate that this set of mannerisms is one of the commonalities reapers have with humans.

       While demons understand enough of humans to prey on their limitations, to make one truly happy is something that has never been attempted before. And to befriend our rival, the Grim Reaper, is an anomaly at its best. If anything, it would be an easier task with a human because the eons of strife do not exist between us like they do with demons and reapers. It seems as if the reaper’s fear of demons is partially taught by previous generations – not merely through personal experiences.

       I wonder – with mild resentment – if William was taught this fear, as well…

       Realizing that my brooding thoughts on the tragedy between demons and reapers have caused me to deviate from the area in which my focus should be entirely placed, I return to my previous questions concerning William. How to reach him again would indeed be the first question in need of answering because the latter of the two – to get him to accept my apology – would depend on Spears himself. (In that regard, I’ll have no choice but to improvise.)

       It is when I’m entering London again that an answer – not one that will guarantee success but an answer nonetheless – dawns upon me:

       Undertaker.



       It has been almost exactly forty-eight hours since Spears terminated our alliance, and I now stand before an eerie shop in a side street in London. It is The Undertaker’s funeral parlor.

       I feel that a sufficient amount of time has passed for William to have settled down after our dispute, and I intend to approach him now. To do so, however, I need a reaper to grant me passage into their realm.

       As a former Grim Reaper and often a neutral party in most situations, The Undertaker seems like the best possible candidate for offering me assistance (which is why I am currently here, standing in front of his place of business). However, he is the eccentric, unpredictable sort; it is difficult to know if he will decide to protect his fellow reapers or if he will accept my request and open an entrance to the Reaper’s Realm so that I may pass through. Despite the uncertainty, it is my best course of action at this time.

       Without further delay, I enter The Undertaker’s establishment.

       The door emits a forlorn creak as I step inside, almost as if it is meant to replace the chime of a shopkeeper’s bell. After a short pause, a voice greets me, although the producer cannot be seen:

       “It’s late and the butler’s prowling around by himself… How interesting…” Unsurprisingly, the mortician emerges from the shadows behind me and draws almost uncomfortably close. Grinning wildly like he nearly always does, he inquires with poorly concealed enthusiasm, “Now… don’t tell me you’re here to get your dying master fitted for one of my special coffins tonight…! What a surprise that would be!” Cackling gleefully, the veteran reaper ambles over to a large coffin near the other side of the room and plops down onto it amusedly.

       “But alas, that’s not it, is it?” he continues in his dry, crackling voice. He folds his hands under his chin and eyes me expectantly. Although his gaze is covered by strands of his silvery hair, I can feel it boring into me. “What have you come here for, hm?”

       Not wishing to waste time unnecessarily, I openly answer the question. “I am on my own business tonight, and I desire admittance into the Reaper’s Realm.”

       If it is even possible, The Undertaker’s grin appears to widen. “My, my… Phantomhive’s pet isn’t misbehaving, is he? What sort of business – as you say – would a demon have among reapers?”

       “I can assure you that I have no malicious intentions… Merely, there have been recent happenings involving a certain individual, and I must atone for them,” I reply plainly.

       “Ahh, I see, I see…  It’s difficult for demons and reapers to be friends, hm? Well, you haven’t been a very malevolent demon for quite some time… I’ll allow it.”

       An internal relief washes over me; now I am one step closer to where I must be.

       After a brief pause, The Undertaker continues, “Of course, I still require payment… Give me that, and you’re free to be on your way.”



       As I step through the portal into the Reaper’s Realm, I can hear the mortician’s dying fit of laughter.

       “Good luck!” his distant voice calls cheerily amongst his giggles. I’m starting on my way when he adds quickly: “Oh, and do give Mr. Spears my greetings!” Instantly after this statement, the portal closes.

       I find myself frozen for a moment due to shock. Could he really know where I am headed? I decide that I haven’t the time to think about that, however; I must find William’s residence before I am seen.

       Despite all the houses looking quite similar to each other, I manage to recognize Spears’s after several minutes and approach. I’m wary of being spotted by any passing reapers, but I take the time to knock and stand at the front door. After all, I’m sure that it wouldn’t improve the situation between us if I entered uninvited into his home.

       The door opens before me. Spears’s expression immediately darkens when we lock eyes. I wouldn’t be surprised in the slightest if he slammed the door in my face and left me there on his front stoop.

       “Oh… I had a feeling that it would be you… How unfortunate… How did a beast such as yourself even manage to get back in here?” His tone is icy and impersonal, but I don’t allow this to deter me.

       I intend to respond earnestly, but William continues, stopping me from doing so.

       “Actually, the answer to that doesn’t matter; the sooner I can be rid of you, the better. What do you want?”

       “I would like to apologize for the other night.”

       In response to this, Spears emits a derisive sound and wrinkles his nose.

       “It hadn’t crossed my mind that my actions could harm you. I was acting foolishly, and for that I sincerely apologize.”

       Likely having not anticipated a direct apology from me, his expression now is a mix of bewilderment and doubt. He is silent for several seconds as if considering very carefully how he should respond. Slowly, he steps out of the doorway and says, “Come inside before someone sees you. We will talk.”

       I step through the threshold and remind myself simultaneously that although I have been successful so far, I still have not fully appeased William and must be cautious not to upset him again. I keep a good distance from him and wait for further invitation before acting.

       Spears gestures to an armchair in the living room as he closes the door. I sit as directed, and he sits in the identical chair on the opposite side of the coffee table.

       “So what was this nonsense about being apologetic?” he inquires. He rubs at his temple, seeming impatient, weary, and skeptical all at once.

       “Contrary to what you may believe, I am indeed remorseful,” I say. “And that is the sole reason for my coming here – to see if our conflict can be resolved.”

       “It cannot be resolved – because you are correct about one thing: I do not believe you.” I can hear the shift in William’s tone, indicating that his agitation is on the rise.

       Being doubly cautious now, I ask, “What can I do to prove my sincerity?”

       “There is nothing you can accomplish now! I gave you a plethora of opportunities to change my mind about you and your kind, but in the end, you have shown that you are just as awful as they were!”

        This phrasing definitely catches my attention. It is clear at this point that there is more to the situation than I had originally assumed.

       “Who is this ‘they’ you speak of?”

       Spears visibly blanches at the realization that he had let more information loose than desired. He says nothing for a while and leans forward in his chair, holding his head in his hands. It’s evident by his demeanor that he is pained in some way.

       I don’t know how to react to this, so I quietly remain where I am, watching him fixedly.

       Eventually, William straightens up, runs his fingers through his hair, and emits a long sigh. “My father was killed by demons about eighty years ago,” he says suddenly, a somber edge to his voice. I see the pain in his eyes although he appears to be trying his utmost to remain composed.

       Of course, I am caught off guard by this declaration, especially because I see no reason for him to trust me with such personal information as this. But I somehow find myself asking him, “Was he a collector-?”

       “No!” he barks, his sudden level of intensity causing me to start. The pain he was trying to hide moments before has exploded into full view; a snarl is prominent on his features, he is rigid, and he grips so tightly to the arms of his chair that his knuckles are white. With notable strain, he continues: “He had a position in Spectacles, and he had not handled a single soul during his entire employment. He was simply on an errand for my mother when he was attacked. His only means of defending himself was a knife not much larger than a damned letter opener!” The rage in his voice had gradually risen as he spoke, and he is now breathing heavily, on the verge of either tears or hysteria (or perhaps both). Once he collects himself a little, the former seems more likely.

       William hunches forward despairingly and pinches the bridge of his nose as if he has a headache. With his gaze directed to the floor, he adds quietly, “My mother became very distant for fifty years after that… Neither of us was able to recover completely…”

       It is at this time that I understand that William’s fear was not simply taught to him; it is instead a personal scar – a wound still deep despite the passage of time. Learning this information has caused a new wave of guilt to wash over me.

       It is quiet for a time before I speak. My voice is not much louder than a murmur. “My sincere condolences…”

       “Don’t pretend that you care,” Spears hisses, looking at something to my far left; clearly he doesn’t want to make eye contact. I suspect that he might be tearing up, so I politely keep my gaze to the floor.

       “I mean what I say,” I reply. “I am not unfamiliar with loss, either. Our kinds are constantly feuding, after all, so it is rare for anyone to go unscathed... Perhaps it is a pitiable fantasy, but I have always wondered what it would be like for reapers and demons to coexist.”

       “That dream of yours is not pitiable… it is just impossible,” William adds gruffly. It appears that he has pulled himself together for the most part; he is looking at me again, at least.

       I continue: “When we crossed paths that second time, it was one of my first thoughts about you. There was – and still is – something about you that makes the idea of peace seem possible.”

       This last statement clearly surprises him. And after a moment of confused blinking, that spectacular look of intrigue enters his eyes. I was beginning to miss it. “Are you truly a demon?”

       I chuckle quietly despite myself. “Sometimes I wish I wasn’t.”



       Although we seem to have mostly resolved our conflict, Spears and I are still not on the same terms as before. It is clear that despite entrusting me with a significant aspect of his story, the reaper is still uncertain whether I can be trusted or not.

       Knowing this, I have refrained from mischief whenever William has been present. Unfortunately, my chances to prove myself have been limited because he and I haven’t spent as much time together as we once had.

       In fact, I have only seen William twice so far this week, and one of those interactions was simply a brief inquiry about if I had happened to see a wandering Grell Sutcliff anywhere. Because of our very few exchanges as of late, I am slightly surprised when Spears appears at the manor four days after we had talked of his past and invites me to join him for the evening.

       The two of us leave the Phantomhive estate together and head into London to see to some soul collecting which had been assigned to a different reaper up until recently; Spears explains that the worker had gotten himself significantly injured.

       “We will be far more efficient in our business if moving above the streets,” William says to me. So we take to the rooftops.

       Being out of the cobblestone streets seems to change my state of mind. Rather than being the Phantomhive butler, I have reverted back to simply being a demon… For the time being, I am completely unshackled and have the privilege of making my own choices.

       Above us is the moon. It’s full tonight, and it seems to glow brighter here than it does down on the streets. I am actually distracted by it until William nudges my shoulder, urging me to follow him.

       There is a pleasant chill in the air, and I can see Spears’s breath on the wind as we glide about the city – through the shadows of civilization. I swear that noisy London is silent for once and that the moon is deliberately catching William in its soft glow. Even the darkened sky seems to wrap itself around him as if it craves his unique sort of energy.

       We continue like this for some time, stopping only to collect souls. Finally, Spears completes the last collection for the night and looks to me.

       Big Ben begins its rhythmic chiming, releasing echoes through the chilled London air.

       A sudden look of anxiety crosses William’s features. “It seems that I have… neglected something at home. Will you join me?”

       Puzzled, I cannot help but stare at him a moment…  This sort of behavior is not very characteristic of Spears; the last time he had forgotten to tend to something in his realm, he had asked me to wait outside for him, so why was he inviting me to come along this time? And why does it seem as if he is being dishonest in some way? At the same time, however, there is something in the way he looks at me that simply makes the concept of refusing seem illogical.

       I accept.

       With this affirmation, the reaper silently opens a portal to the Reaper’s Realm, and I follow him to his residence, where he opens the front door and ushers me inside.

       After stepping through the threshold, William stands rather awkwardly nearby. I had expected him to slip off into another part of the house to see to whatever needed seeing to, but now he is lingering, looking like he would very much like to leave the area but cannot for some reason. I recognize very slowly that he is waiting for me to do something.

       What exactly this would be, I haven’t the slightest idea… that is until I realize that his meandering eyes keep darting in one particular direction.

       I notice vibrant colors in the corner of my vision and turn my head to see a bouquet of flowers splayed out in a glass vase on the coffee table in the living room. I realize that this adornment was not present the last time I was here – when I had sat on the other side of that table from Spears, and I also become aware of the fact that I recognize this bouquet of flowers in particular.

       It is the very same one I had presented to William some days ago when we had still been allies.

       For a while, I’m not very sure what to say… I’m not even very sure what this all means!

       Spears seems notably agitated by my lack of response. His face reddening a little, he says sharply, “Perhaps I’m not conveying myself accurately…” The reaper fumbles slightly while adjusting his spectacles and averts his gaze to some other part of the room before continuing. He clears his throat and speaks as if the words were premeditated. “I would like to apologize for my reaction that night and for my obstinate behavior… I believe now that I have misjudged you…” Under his breath, he adds, “… Although you were being a little churlish…” He sighs. “I suppose I should not have expected everything to go without issue. We are two beings naturally meant to oppose each other, after all… That being said, I would like to formally ask you… to be my ally again…?”

       I blink several times as I process William’s speech. I certainly wasn’t expecting him to be the one reaching out for us to reunite, but it is definitely not an unwelcome surprise. I can’t help myself but smile slightly.

       As a demon, it has always been a struggle for me to understand humanity’s way of expressing emotion… and right now, I am not entirely sure how to communicate the depth of my gratitude to Spears. Feeling as if it must be done, however, I make an attempt.

       I am not even aware of my own intentions as I step closer to William. I stop when roughly an arm’s length from him, and he’s eyeing me uncertainly.

       “I hope this will not be a repeat of last time…” he utters warily, taking a partial step backward.

       “Oh, absolutely not,” I reply earnestly. “I recognize that it may seem like a gamble to trust me after what has happened, but…” Spears draws near unexpectedly, surprising me.

       “Good,” he answers simply. We are only centimeters from each other, and this gives me a close view of his eyes.

       Despite gazing directly into them, it takes me several seconds to realize that there is a subtle difference to his eyes. I had thought his eyes were intriguing before, but now they’re so stunningly – well, grand is the only word I can think to use… Looking deeper into his eyes, I come to the conclusion that I am finally getting the chance to read the story I had known was there.

       Reflected in his eyes is a tale like no other – one that seems to have existed longer than himself. It is a tale of Life and Death and of strength and frailty. I sense temples of grandeur and ponds bearing water lilies, and at the same time, there is firelight and dancing and ancient songs – songs much older than even myself. It is as if he’s existed a thousand times in a thousand different places and remembers all of it. I didn’t know all of this could be hidden within a Grim Reaper – a being so often belittled. In this moment, Spears is even more complex than I once assumed.

       “I know you are a demon,” begins this newly unfamiliar creature. “But I also understand now that you are not just simply such. There was something I was missing before, but I believe that I am beginning to see it.”

       An unfamiliar feeling seizes me, and there is no real way for me to put a name to it… It causes speech to fail me so that I am merely standing silent, still locked into the reaper’s eyes.

       My lapse of silence seems to bother that unfamiliar creature; just as suddenly as it had arrived, it hid itself away again, leaving scarcely a trace of its presence. Spears steps back as himself, appearing discouraged. After a moment of silence, he says, “I requested a reconvening of our alliance... Do you formally accept?”

       It seems as if a lot has happened in so little time, but after all of this, I simply find that I am amused. I grin and answer, “I assumed that my previous reaction was enough of an indication of my acceptance.”

       William’s typical scowl forms onto his features. “Honestly, don’t start up that puckish nonsense again.”

       “You admitted it yourself – you shouldn’t expect everything to go as planned. I am not as noxious as my cohorts, but I am still a demon,” I respond, suppressing a chuckle.

       “Good grief… Don’t push your luck.”



       It is 1903, and to my pleasant surprise, the alliance between Spears and I has held strong. Despite our minor conflicts, we are still partners, and it seems that our partnership has even grown in power since my contract’s conclusion.

       Having no current desire to find another soul to hunt, I have instead committed myself to learning more about my reaper companion. No matter how much I manage to discover, there always seems to be more to know. William rarely cooperates with me, so I am never bored.

       I cherish moments when I can glimpse my reaper’s true nature: on moonlit rooftops and in side streets; when he turns and gazes at me, speaking volumes without words; or when his eyes flash with intrigue.

       On this night, Spears leads me to stand near the very top of Big Ben’s clock tower – above even the belfry; he says that he has a surprisingly little amount of work this evening and simply thought to do something interesting in his spare time.

       The chill of the nighttime air wafts over us and there is silence between us as we look out onto the city of London. For a time, I am watching the world below and leaning into the wind. It has been some time since I’ve been this far above the ground, and it seems as if I’d forgotten how much I enjoy it. I am closing my eyes when the clock strikes midnight.

       The tower shakes with the powerful chimes of the bells below us. Something compels me to look over in Spears’s direction. He turns to meet my gaze almost simultaneously and I fall hopelessly into his eyes.

       He stares at me wordlessly for several seconds, and in the moment just before he turns away again, I swear that either my eyes are failing me…

       Or William T. Spears just smiled.