A/N: Here's the last chapter, y'all. This story has been one helluva project to write, even as short as it is. I can't thank you all enough for all your praise and awesome reviews. I'm gonna warn you ahead of time: There's kind of a cliffhanger. If anyone feels like they can pick this story up and do for Ciel and Lizzie something like what I've done for Sebastian, please do. I would like to see it continued, but I simply don't have the time to keep going. Thank you again, guys, and ENJOY!

Sebastian lay unmoving in his bed, the white sheets gathered around him; to an onlooker he would appear a corpse. The only outward sign was the rapid movements of his garnet eyes behind their closed lids as he dreamed. He dreamed of Cybille and the time they had together before his passing; he dreamed of Aimee and the beignets he so wanted to be able to taste. He dreamed of Ciel and Elizabeth, and even that the two of them had met Cybille. Elizabeth would have been besotted with her, he was sure, just as Cybille would have adored the bubbly little blonde... He dreamed and that was one of the things he, as a demon, was certain he could not do. Then again, the umber-skinned woman with whom he'd been intimately acquainted had taught him that even as a demon, he had a heart. And as a demon, why would he lose the ability to dream, and not to hold someone dear?

The morning after their bout of love-making was spent in relative silence; surreptitious glances thrown at one another, giggles from Cybille at his stern appearance. He was trying to hide the emotional evidence of what had occurred between the two of them; Aimee would probably not be shocked by the recent events, but she would more than likely be infuriated by them. It wasn't as if he was inclined to act like a giddy teenager in love, but seeing Cybille across the breakfast table, combing through her tresses with her fingers to get the tangles out that he had put there—or noting that she wore her prudish high-necked church dress to hide the marks that he had left on her throat and breasts—made him feel somewhat possessive and masculine and brutish. She was his and though he had cared for Lucien as a child, the pompous little shit would never have her now.

Lucien had returned late in the morning, hung-over and "pissy" as his mother had called him, begging for coffee and Cybille's forgiveness. Being the kind of woman the demon believed Saints should look up to, she granted him her pardon—on the grounds that he drop his betrothal argument. He neither confirmed nor denied her, burying his nose in the coffee with a non-committal "Hm."

The day itself progressed as normal; Cybille would cut her eyes over her shoulder at the demon here and there, as if asking him to come to her room that night, Lucien's head seemed to be permanently glued to the kitchen table as Rene tried to coach them through their studies for the day, and Aimee hummed and cooked away as normal, keeping her thoughts and comments to herself in the corner of the kitchen. Midway through a lecture on the history of the Anglo-Saxons, Lucien's hand tentatively rose into the air, still face down on the weathered oak table.

The demon cleared his throat mid-sentence and acknowledged him with a gruff "Hm?"

"Gaan I goo doe medd? I peel lie sheet..."

"That's your own fault, now isn't it?" the demon replied ruthlessly.

Cybille raised a gracefully arched eyebrow in Lucien's direction. "What was that?"

"He asked to go to bed because he feels like shit," Rene offered helpfully, snapping the book he held closed and smacking it on the table next to Lucien's head.

There was a distinct "Oooww" and then "Waat was dat poor?"

"Get out of our presence," the demon growled. His fury was escalating at Lucien's gall and utter disrespect.

The young man wordlessly lifted himself from his seat and shuffled out of the kitchen, crossing the courtyard and entering the back of the main house, mumbling as he reached the porch. "Damn inhuman bastard...no sympathy...maman is useless against him, too..."

"Sympathy?" the demon huffed. "You've never shown me any."

Cybille snickered a little to herself. "Sympathy for the devil, non? Has a nice ring to it..."

He cocked a grin in her direction, then thumbing through the book, he found his page again. "Shall we continue?"

Lessons were completed, sans one hung-over student, Aimee served lunch in the courtyard, and Cybille was given a list and sent to the French Market.

Sebastian snapped upright in his bed. "Sympathy for the Devil..." With a sigh, he swung his legs over the mattress and readied himself for his duties once again.

To Sebastian's supreme surprise, Ciel was awake and sitting at the edge of his own bed when he entered the room. Mechanically, he stalked to the windows to throw open the drapes, then gathered his young masters clothes for the day and laid them out across the foot of the bed to get him ready.

"What is on our agenda for the day, Sebastian?" Ciel asked, voice gruff from unuse, rubbing his eyes absently as a sleep deprived child might do.

"Your schedule is completely open, my young lord," he replied dutifully, beginning the routine of dressing the earl.

"Good. You may continue with where you left off last night."

"Yes, my master. Where exactly did I leave off, pray tell?"

"Rene was having a chat with his besotted charge, I believe. About the need for her to marry, but his-your-inability to force her into it caused you to second guess your decision."

"Ah, yes. As I told Lucien later, her marriage was a priority at one time, but priorities do, indeed, change. In fact, Lucien and I argued rather heatedly over Cybille's betrothal contract. I had had it drawn up for a number of years, but as you know, I could not force her to sign it. Lucien assumed my hesitation was because I wanted her for myself... I suppose in a way, he was correct. I told him after our argument that I would be forced to refuse her if she did make her affections known."

"But you did not," Ciel pointed out, matter-of-factly.

"No, I did not. I had what I suppose could be called a bit of an infatuation with her."

"You loved her."

Sebastian did not answer. He didn't speak for some moments. He focused instead on the snapping of the young lord's garters and the smoothing of his socks and the sliding of small feet into black leather shoes. When he finally lifted his head to face Ciel, his eyes flared with hellish flames of crimson. His voice was hoarse; barely audible. But he uttered a distinct "Yes."

Ciel nodded, unperturbed by Sebastian's appearance and answer. "You aren't any weaker for it, you know?" he stated simply, dropping to his feet and stretching a bit before walking toward the door. "It does not make you less of a demon. Perhaps, it makes you a better one. More ruthless. You know what humans have, you have felt it, and yet you can still take it away. I think you are stronger for it."

The flames died away along with the burning sensation behind his eyes and the strange empty pull in his heart. "I think my young master has begun to philosophize beyond his years."

Ciel "Hmph"ed at that, glancing pointedly over his shoulder at the demon butler. He waited until the door before him was opened, then headed out into the hall toward his study, butler in tow.

"After my decision to forsake Cybille's hand in marriage to any other man, I began looking for a house outside of the city where she could live in relative peace away from the overbearing presence of Lucien and the other men in the Quarter that were vying for her attentions. The poor girl could not go to the market without proposals and pretty words being thrown in her face. Her mind was made up on one singular man and it wasn't any of them, she would tell them sweetly. Truthfully, it was the threat of Lucien's reaction when he found out I had bedded her that drove me to look for another residence. It would only be a matter of time before he and Aimee knew and I intended to give them the old Faustine Townhouse and Lucien's inheritance before that happened. It wasn't long before one of Rene's investors found a large cottage just outside of Belle Chasse in Plaquemines Parish—about ten kilometers or so from where we lived in the Quarter. It was far enough away from the city to deter Lucien's ill-will, I believed. Still, it was close enough for me to continue to do business inside the city proper."

Night after night, the demon sought refuge in his lover's embrace; night after night, Lucien sneaked out of the house in search of his own amusement. He did not confront Rene again about the betrothal, perhaps taking to heart Cybille's request to let it drop in favor of her forgiveness for his transgressions. The affair went on beautifully, silently, for weeks. The ownership documents to the Belle Chasse cottage passed into the demon's possession without a hitch. Papers were drawn up for the passing of the Faustine townhouse into the hands of Lucien and his mother. Bank notes were written in the sums of Lucien's inheritance and Aimee's salary. Rene had to attend to the final deed signing at the cottage proper, so a carriage was readied and with a private good-bye to Cybille and no one else the wiser, he left late one evening with intentions to be back the following morning with movers for Cybille's things.

"It was while you were away that Cybille's horrible vision of Lucien came true," Ciel stated, his voice low with wonder and what Sebastian could only discern as fury.

"It was. I suppose he'd been stewing in guilt and rage since he'd confronted her about the betrothal and he happened to choose the only night in weeks that I hadn't been in her bed to confront her one last time.

"Apparently, he had come home from his dalliances earlier and far more drunk than usual. He tried to force himself on her..." Sebastian paused for a moment, the memory striking his own cord of rage at the thought of the boy he had provided for, cared for, raised, touching Cybille against her will. "He barged into her room and threw her to the bed; bruised her arms and shoulders and breasts. Cybille had a heavy cedar jewel-chest on her nightstand. She managed to bring it over his head with enough force to render him unconscious."

"When I am in danger, you know it because of our contract. I know your contract with Cybille was less direct, but did you have no sense that she was at risk?"

"As I leaned down to sign the deed of the Belle Chasse house, my contract mark burned. I knew something had happened. I rushed home immediately. I found her sprawled in her bed, Lucien's limp body covering hers and my anger flared so brightly that I shifted into my true form. It was only for a brief moment as I evaluated the situation and when I realized that Cybille wasn't... violated, I appeared human again. Unfortunately, Lucien had just regained consciousness when it happened, so the sight of me was a bit difficult for him to...grasp."

"Poor bastard. I almost feel sorry for him."

"You shouldn't, I assure you. The fear that passed over his features and the speed with which he left the room were both paramount. I'm almost positive the boy levitated."

Ciel laughed. "But do you think that him seeing your true form was punishment enough for the misdeeds he had premeditated for your woman?"

"No. But Cybille would not have let me punish him any further. We were leaving as it was, there was no reason to leave Aimee any more strife in our wake."

"True enough. What became of them after you left?"

"Aimee died shortly after. She fell ill and Lucien found her wasted away in her bed; probably the plague. Lucien never did much of anything with himself, save to squander the fortune I had left him and his mother on liquor and whores. The townhouse fell into ill repair and I bought it back from him years later as he lay on his own death bed with consumption. He did apologize for allowing himself to go the way he had; he knew that he had been a disappointment to me and he wanted the house to be refurbished just as it had been when he and Cybille were children. I had to have it virtually gutted and rebuilt after he was dead. It's still there; in the Quarter. I wonder sometimes if I should go back to check on things."

"Rene Corbeau still owns that house? Wouldn't it be hard to explain your ownership after a century?"

"No, I'd simply claim to be a descendant. It's not as if I don't still have the deeds."

"Why haven't you? I would like to go with you," Ciel mumbled, almost despite himself.

"I suppose because it would stir up so many memories. Not that this little 'chat' we've been having hasn't done that already. I imagine it may indeed be time to go home; check on what I left behind."

"And Cybille? What happened to her?"

A distant smile creased the demon butler's eyes, but never reached his mouth. "I married her."

If Ciel had not had his bottom in his desk chair, it would have hit the plush carpet beneath him. His knees went weak. His vision whirled. He was in the most dense state of shock he had ever been in. He actually stuttered. "Wh-what?"

"I married her. It was a far cry from a legal Christian ceremony, but it was all that mattered to her. A Voodoo priestess married us in the garden behind the Belle Chasse cottage."

Just when Ciel's mind began to clear from the fog of surprise, he was forced to pick his jaw up from the top of his desk...

"It was only the right thing to do, seeing as Cybille's belly was swollen with child."

Sebastian chuckled to himself as Ciel's one visible eye rolled backward into its socket. "Oh, dear, have I shocked you past propriety, my young lord?"

"You've shocked me past absolutely anything I've ever even remotely conceived..." Ciel whimpered, sinking down into the plush chair and covering his face with his hands. "I never thought it possible..."

"That a human could bear children with a demon? Possible, yes. Common, no. What are demons but fallen angels? 'And it came to pass that the Sons of God saw the daughters of men that they were fair; and they took them wives of all which they chose... and the Sons of God came in unto the daughters of men, and they bare children to them, the same became mighty men which were of old, men of renown.'"

"Genesis, verse six, is it? I suppose I really should not be surprised by anything you spring on me anymore. You've gotten more and more incorrigible over the years."

"I believe you are correct, my master. As it was, though, Cybille had contrived a plan. A contract would keep me on this plain of existence. No where was it written that the contract had to be for the consumption of a soul—only the possession. In marriage, husband and wife pledge their hearts—and their souls—to one another. A different kind of contract, yes, but efficient enough to allow us to play out our little ill-fated game. It only mattered to me that I would lose her indefinitely one day. Whether it was on her eighteenth birthday or when she could no longer bear the sight of me—always young as she withered away with age. I preferred to leave on her terms... Unfortunately that didn't happen."

"On who's terms did you leave?" Ciel asked, suspecting the answer, but dreading it all the same.

"God's. Fate's. Call it what you will. Her body was not strong enough for the demon seed I had planted within her. Perhaps you could say that it was I who killed her. My Cybille. My wife."

Sebastian turned away from Ciel for a moment, fists clutched at his sides, and Ciel wondered if his eyes flamed that hellish red when he cried. There was a deep breath; a sigh. White gloved hands went to face for a scant second as the evidence was wiped away. He turned back to Ciel, composure perfect, eyes garnet, fake smile in place.

"Now that you've heard the story, I wish to present my question to you. As I stated when we began, I do not necessarily care if you answer me, per se. I only want you to examine your own emotions and catalogue them as is relevant."

"What is your question, Sebastian?"

"Knowing how my tale has ended, what are you going to do about Mistress Elizabeth?"