Your Own Skin (Black Butler)

Stolen Deathscythes

When William opened his eyes again, he was shocked to actually be able to see. He thought he would still be in Undertaker’s body, but based on the fact that he didn’t have the reaper’s silver bangs in his eyes, that couldn’t be the case. Tentatively he dragged a tongue across his teeth, but they weren’t sharp at all. They felt like his teeth, with imperfections and all. With a relieved sigh he closed his eyes for a moment and allowed himself to relax into the cushions.

Wait, where was he exactly?

“Ah,” Michaelis was suddenly hovering over him with an impish grin. “It seems one of them is awake, young master.”

With a glare, William reached for his deathscythe, intent to push the demon as far away as possible. His hand groped at empty air. He looked down to his side with a feeble expression. “What?”

“My apologies, Spears,” Phantomhive said from an armchair near the hearth. “I’m afraid we had to collect your deathscythes.”

William pushed himself up into a seating position, prompting Sebastian to back away. “That is completely uncalled for,” he pushed up his glasses. Your kind are never permitted to handle our-”

Phantomhive didn’t even flinch. “I couldn’t chance someone as unstable and unpredictable as Druitt to come across them again.”

“Good grief. As though you’re any more reliable than he is. You’re the one with a demon. At least Druitt doesn’t stoop to that level of abhorrence.”

Michaelis chuckled, but the Earl sighed. “Retrieve his deathscythe for him, Sebastian.”

“Are you sure that is wise, young master?” Despite the question, there was no fear in the demon’s voice, only mockery. “How can we be certain he won’t use it against us?”

William sighed and looked around the room to see Grell just coming to. “Grell,” he whispered, forgetting completely about Phantomhive and his pet demon, and went to her side. “Are you alright?”

“Will-?” She rubbed at her temples, “What a ride…”

He managed a small smile and took her hand. “It is you, isn’t it?”

She nodded with a sharp-toothed smile. “It does feel good to be back again.”

Behind them, Phantomhive grew impatient. “I suppose you won’t be wanting your deathscythes back again then?” As good of a strategist as he could be, he could be such a spoiled brat sometimes.

“Are you planning to hold them hostage then?” Undertaker asked as he got to his feet. The entire room seemed to go tense at his words, and it reminded William again of being down in his shop surrounded by darkness and with the long blade of a deathscythe pressed to his throat. “That might not be very wise. I mean, William here is a supervisor. You’ll have the entire shinigami world down on you if word gets out that you’ve stolen deathscythes. Goodness, it’s one thing to raise an army of undead,” he chuckled. “But it’s quite another to steal a reaper’s deathscythe!”

Phantomhive and Michaelis exchanged a nervous glance at Undertaker’s words. It was a bit of an exaggeration since he and Grell would be in terrible trouble for losing them. They would likely both get demoted to interns for such an act. However there was a shred of truth to it too. Phantomhive and his pet would both be considered dangerous and orders would be given to kill them on sight. Grell gave him a small knowing smile, but William kept his expression neutral. It was a crude ruse, but he would play along.

He got to his feet and turned to Phantomhive with a stern expression. “Will you hand them over willingly then or do I need to contact higher authorities?”