Denouement

Summary: Spoilers for the end of Black Butler II. When Ciel's transformation takes place, everything changes. Can master and servant, now eternally bound, learn to live with one another on these new terms? And how will Ciel fare in his new form?

Rating: Teen, because of a scene with (non-explicit) rape and abuse, and several mentions of violence/torture.

Disclaimer: See profile for general disclaimer.

When pouring a cup of tea, there is absolutely no allowance for unsteadiness in the hands. The slightest tremor may upset the stream and cause unsightly drops to mar the edges of the teacup, or worse, the tea saucer itself. Such a slip is unacceptable for any butler worth his salt.

Sebastian frowns at the almost invisible droplets clinging stubbornly to the edges of the cup containing his master's morning Darjeeling. Unacceptable.

He discreetly wipes the inner edge of the cup with a handkerchief and sees Ciel's new eyes follow the lightning-like movement. The boy says nothing, though it hardly matters as Ciel will not be drinking this tea. Such a shame, the back of Sebastian's mind wryly pipes up, because it is of the finest quality. The butler turns away to smooth nonexistent wrinkles out of the day's outfit and hears the splash as Ciel pours his drink into the potted plant resting by the bedside. He does not ask. In fact, he hasn't spoken more than twenty different words to his master since the dreadful events of last week had come to pass.

Ciel has only spoken three. "I don't care." This, seemingly, has become the boy's new answer to any and every question. His eyes are a dull burgundy, and somehow the expression he wears now is even more disturbing than the one he'd previously affected most hours of the day. He allows Sebastian to dress him, cooperating no more or less than a limp doll would, but as Sebastian moves to tie the ribbon under Ciel's collar, the boy's eyes suddenly light up with cruel interest and he asks, "Would you like to tie it tighter?"

Sebastian does not respond for a long moment, until he is sure that his answer will be true. "No." He finally says, finishing the knot and stepping back. Ciel's eyes dull again and he looks away, bored. There is a silence.

Contemplation. Sebastian would have answered 'yes,' in that first moment after Ciel had asked. And so he'd waited for the impulse to die, for his impeccable control to take hold once more, to make him able to answer his master honestly. Sebastian never lies. He cannot blame Ciel for his predicament, much as he wishes to. The butler is entirely at fault for the way things have turned out now. Yes... that is how he shall be defined, for eternity: The butler.

Movement catches the corner of Sebastian's eye, and he breaks from his thoughts to watch his master stand. The boy's posture is as lifeless as his eyes: he is slouching, his fingers are limp, and he breathes only once or twice a minute. Sebastian has never tested how long demons can go without air and probably never will; he imagines it is a very long time. Breathing provides the ability to smell and to speak, nothing more-at least, this is what he believes.

"Where to next, Young Master?" Sebastian intones without humor or feeling. The answer is, as expected:

"I don't care."

There is a forest.

Sebastian sees the ragged tops of trees lining the horizon and speeds up slightly, eager to get to the shelter ahead. The rain is fierce and contains sharp daggers of ice-they are in no danger of freezing to death, of course, but the weather is still highly unpleasant-and Sebastian is slowed marginally by the bundle in his arms. His overcoat was sacrificed some time ago to shelter his young master from the cold and wet, and the rain has long since pierced the wool of his uniform. He forces himself to ignore the stinging spikes running up and down his flesh. Instead, he focuses on the thick patch of trees ahead, watching an individual trunk until it finally passes by and he is inside the forest.

The relief is only marginal. It is still bitter cold, and the slush drips through the branches and falls in clumps rather than daggers. But large splashes are easy to avoid, and though Sebastian doesn't dry out, he manages to avoid getting any wetter. Ciel's body heat and Sebastian's overcoat have kept the boy quite comfortable during the worst of the blizzard, and the butler imagines that his charge is either sleeping or bored to the brink of catatonia. For some reason, Ciel still seems to need sleep.

With that sudden observation, Sebastian stops moving for a moment, and gets hit quite forcefully in the head by a bucketload of icy water. He blinks away the ice clouding his vision and looks down at the bundle, thinking intently. Why is it that his young master should still need to sleep...?

Of course, demons can sleep, and often do after a successful meal, as most large predatory animals do. But Sebastian only needs the barest minimum of catnaps in order to function, whereas Ciel sleeps for six or even eight hours each night before waking up, and still gets tired when kept awake for too long. Could this mean that the boy is not a true demon, that there might be a way to return him to a human? The sudden hope almost brings Sebastian to his knees. Now that he considers this hypothesis, more and more 'flaws' in Ciel's demonic personality seem to surface. He hasn't inherited demons' language mastery; or if he has then he has hidden that fact extraordinarily well (Sebastian tried talking with Ciel in Swahili, just to see what would happen. The boy gave no sign at all of comprehension, though that might have been mere apathy on his part). He is lacking the desperate, unconscious drive to consume souls that takes each demon centuries to learn how to control. In fact, the boy has not given any indication at all of hunger of any sort.

Numbly, Sebastian forces his legs to move. He can allow himself to consider this possibility more thoroughly once they arrive in a drier, warmer place.

He does not allow himself to think of regaining that flavor, or his freedom. Until he knows for certain whether it is possible, thoughts like that will only cause him harm.

Sunshine plays games on the surface of the lake, dancing and leaping over the ripples and waves formed by the breeze. Sebastian follows some of the movement, vaguely amused by the rainbows formed at the edges of the waves. Humans can't see those rainbows. Humans can't see anything.

Ciel is also watching the rainbows, or at least, Sebastian imagines this. The boy has lapsed back into his silence from earlier, and acquiesces to being carried only because he still lacks the natural grace that should belong to him now and has tripped one too many times over tree roots and rocks. There are no trails save those made by animals, this deep in the forest. Sebastian gently adjusts Ciel's weight on his back-is it the older demon's imagination, or has the boy become lighter since his change?-and turns to leave the lake shore, and it is then that Ciel speaks.

"Sebastian."

"Yes, Young Master?"

He hears the boy bite down on the inside of his lower lip. He's always done that, always thought that Sebastian didn't know, but there is no hiding such things from a demon bonded in the same way as they had been (are still?). "Where are we?"

His voice contains something more than disinterest, and his question contains some of his old, demanding tone. "Southern Russia."

"It's beautiful."

"Yes."

The silence resumes. Ciel is struggling with something and thinks that Sebastian does not notice, again, even though the turmoil inside of his brain is practically audible to his butler. "Sebastian." He says again, quietly, unnecessarily, as he already has his butler's attention. Sebastian chooses not to mention this fact. "Will I need to eat soon?"

"Ah." Sebastian carefully places his charge down, and Ciel drops into the mercifully dry grass without any ceremony. His bangs fall in front of his eyes and he doesn't bother to push them away-his hair has grown rather longer since they'd first left London (to keep Ciel away from the people he cared about, still, despite his severing from human bonds, and he thought Sebastian didn't know the reason, the fool). "Are you feeling hungry now, Young Master?"

"I don't know." One of his master's hands finds his stomach and touches it, but doesn't move. "It's not like it was..." Sebastian sees him swallow, knows that he can't bear to say, when I was human, "...before. I feel hollow, I have since I woke up three weeks ago, but in the last few days, it's intensified."

"I cannot speak for what it used to feel like for you, Young Master." The thought occurs to Sebastian that this is the longest conversation they've shared since Ciel has turned. Pathetic, really. "However, that does sound as if you're beginning to get hungry." If he isn't feeling physical pain or desperation yet, then he isn't too far along, but it always begins as a hollow void that can only be filled by one substance. As if reading his thoughts, Ciel looks up, and the expression on his face is so intensely sad and deep that Sebastian takes a step backwards. That his new eyes are capable of conveying such feeling is astounding.

"Will I... Must I eat human souls?" He asks softly, voice reflecting the same complex emotion in his eyes. Sebastian wants to look away, he cannot bear it anymore, but he forces himself not to. This conversation must happen, and deflecting it by hours or days will not help.

"Yes." He finally says, because it is true and because Sebastian never lies. Something breaks in Ciel's eyes, and he closes them with a shudder. They sit on the lake shore and listen to the wind rustle leaves and gently churn water, grow warm in the sunlight. Frogs and birds, disturbed by their arrival, slowly grow accustomed to the new arrivals and settle back into their routines.

"What happens if I refuse to?" He finally says, after the sun has moved considerably higher in the sky.

"That I cannot advise, Young Master. You'll start out just hungry," In agony, fire, unimaginable torment, "but after a time without a contract you will be driven insane by it." He has seen it happen, demons who take too long to forge a new contract and are left as withered shells, lacking the power to fix themselves. Sebastian sees Ciel's thoughts as clearly as if the boy is writing them in the dirt, and says softly, "You will not die. Demons cannot starve to death. You will simply suffer, for all eternity, unable to even remember yourself through the pain."

There is another silence, a shorter one this time, before Ciel states (predictably, so predictably), "Perhaps that would be preferable for me." And Sebastian knows that it is the twisted things that have been done to his young master that are causing this response, that the boy somehow feels that he deserves endless pain. He sees his charge sinking deeper into despair, and says the only thing he can think of that could perhaps draw Ciel out of it.

"Elizabeth would not want you to suffer for all eternity, Young Master."

The response is fierce, immediate, and loud. "Lizzy would not want me to become a MURDERER!" Ciel shouts, eyes blazing crimson with his anger. The birds quiet for a long moment before slowly, worriedly, beginning their song again. After a time, Ciel's shoulders begin to shake, and he collapses to the grass again, wrapping his arms around his knees. He's trying very hard to cry, but the tears won't come. It is not possible for demons to shed tears. One of Sebastian's previous masters had ordered him to cry once, and he'd spent hours futilely attempting the feat.

Another silence. Ciel's eyes slowly dim to the color of Merlot again. After this occurs, Sebastian hazards an attempt at reasonableness. "You were already a murderer before, Young Master." He says flatly, but softly. He also avoids the tricky phrase when you were human, as a courtesy.

Ciel's voice is choked, as if he'd just been crying despite his failed attempt. "That was-was different, that was-" but he cannot complete the lie. Demons have trouble lying; it clashes with some deeply buried sense of justice each possesses. Odd, to think that a soul-eating, nearly omnipotent beast has more trouble manipulating the truth than a mere human. Perhaps it is a form of leveling in the mind of whatever twisted Creator claims them. Sebastian doesn't pretend to know where demons come from.

"In the end," he begins carefully, making sure to have his master's full attention before continuing, "it's really more like selling a service, is it not? You know well that the price one pays seems worth it at the time of their decision. You cannot force someone to form a contract with you; demons hold no sway over free will." He leaves it at that, waiting to see what his master's reaction to this shall be. He's finding himself actually intrigued for the first time in almost a month, and hopes that Ciel will respond instead of shutting down.

The boy considers this. Then, lips barely moving, he asks, "How many?"

Sebastian very carefully does not grin widely at his victory. "One or two a year, perhaps fewer. Some demons make do without for three or four years, though it's-difficult-" nearly impossible, "but any longer than that can cause permanent psychosis." Every demon is psychotic to a point, of course, but those who resist feeding when the urge comes become a special kind of psychotic. The effect is almost impressive, though it more often comes off as weakness. "And if you wait too long after that point, you risk losing the ability to make a contract and thus undo the damage."

Ciel's eyes move up again to meet his butler's, and he stares for a moment, considering. Then, he states levelly, "You must be starving by now." The words are not meant to be cruel, yet immediately after they are spoken Ciel looks as if he would take them back. Sebastian forgives him silently. He is young, and will say many more stupid things before he learns to keep his mouth shut. There is another brief pause as Ciel chews his bottom lip openly, before the boy says, "I'll walk."

And despite himself, Sebastian smiles.

Ciel orders Sebastian to lead him to the nearest human settlement, wherever it may be. The destination, as it turns out, is a rural farming village mostly made of mud huts with thatched straw roofs. Recent storms have left severe weather damage in their wake, but the villagers are scurrying to correct the structures with more of the same fragile materials. Ciel has Sebastian put him high in a tree far away from the village and then orders his butler to take as long as he needs to hunt. The sun falls, rises, and falls. Ciel mostly sleeps, his new senses at least keeping him from falling forty feet to the forest floor. On the evening of the third day, Sebastian drops down onto his branch from the canopy and happily proclaims, "Rise and shine, Young Master!"

Ciel's eyes flicker open. "Well, aren't we disgustingly cheerful." He grumbles, taking in the sight of his butler fresh from devouring a soul. Sebastian's cheeks are flushed with a healthy glow and an easy smile coats his lips, eyes shining almost painfully brightly (though, they are not the same shade of red as when he is angry-this is softer, somehow). Ciel unconsciously compares this Sebastian to the one who'd left three days ago and can hardly see any resemblance between them. He hadn't realized how pale and pinched his butler had been. With a pang of something rather close to guilt, Ciel thinks, My soul was supposed to be the one to make him look so content. He closes his eyes again and thunks his skull against the trunk of the tree. His head leaves a dent in the bark, and Sebastian laughs, and that might just be creepier than the natural smile or the bright eyes.

"It'll wear off in a few weeks." Sebastian assures his young master, barely biting back more laughter. The euphoria, he'd almost forgotten. Of course, the soul he'd taken was as plain as oatmeal, but after so long with nothing, he is jubilant.

"What was its price?" Ciel asks quietly, depersonalizing the soul by stripping it of a gendered pronoun. He is learning fast to think of them only as meals, Sebastian notes with approval.

"Take a look." He says quietly, scooping up his master easily and leaping a good ten feet to another branch higher up. With a few more leaps, they break the canopy, and Ciel can see for himself what Sebastian has done.

The primitive village is no more. In its place is a quaint, English-style town made of stone, fresh lumber, and brick. There are what appear to be proper streets with sewers and even a Town Hall in the center. Ciel can only quirk one eyebrow at this feat and say dryly, "Where on earth did you manage to find clay in a forest?" Or a kiln to bake the bricks, or the many different types of stone he'd used...

Sebastian full-out laughs again, the sound pure delight. "Forging a contract gives power." He explains. "The type of power varies with the contract. In this case, the woman's wish was to prevent her town from being destroyed by storms again, and to create a wonderful place for everyone to grow and learn from." Such a selfless wish was truly rare, and the way in which she had so willingly offered herself as the price filled Sebastian with even more warmth and good feeling than was normal for his meals. He could sacrifice flavor for this feeling.

Ciel gestures towards the new town, a slightly familiar tone of exasperation lacing his voice. "Don't you think this was a bit much? For such a simple wish."

Sebastian only grins, glad that some part of his master is still intact. The boy is still fun to poke, it seems. "Oh, but I was her God, descended from on high to grant her single wish. Don't you think I should have done my absolute best work, just for her?" He only barely keeps the tremors of laughter from entering his over-dramatic tone.

His master squints at the town. "Are those... carved cherubs... above the columns of Town Hall?" He asks slowly, trying to make out the detail. Sebastian raises one eyebrow.

"But of course, a deity should leave some sign of His influence."

Ciel hits him on the shoulder.

Ciel's first hunt is, predictably, a complete disaster.

The problem with finding prey, even in a crowded Chinese city such as the one they are in, is that you have to first find someone with a strong enough wish and then convince them that their soul isn't all that important, really. People like Ciel, ready to pay any price and not even blinking when told their immortal soul would forever be forfeit, are so rare as to be almost nonexistent. Plenty of people are content with what they have, or at least lack the imagination to consider hoping for better; plenty of others wish for things all of the time, but these are small things that only a fool would trade his soul for.

Sebastian doesn't tell Ciel any of this, mostly because the boy should learn such lessons on his own.

And also, it is hilarious to watch.

He can laugh at his master because the boy openly ordered him not to interfere or to give advice. His stubborn nature demands that his first success be his own, the same as when he was human. Sebastian is of course waiting back at the inn with a hot bath drawn and a falsely clueless 'So how did it go?' ready on his lips when Ciel finally stumbles back, hours of failure leaving him exhausted.

Ciel glares, and it's so cute that Sebastian has to chuckle. "As if you weren't following me." He mumbles, allowing Sebastian to undress him and lift him carefully into the steaming water. He submerges his head under the surface and stays there for a good three minutes, attempting to avoid the inevitable. When he surfaces, he is not even out of breath, and says quietly, "All right, what am I doing wrong?"

"Have you tried using the magic word?" Sebastian asks, lips twitching just barely. "Or perhaps one of your signature glare-pouts, goodness knows how many people are weak to the 'angry puppy' face."

"I'm serious!"

"Humans are incredibly stubborn." Sebastian says, beginning to scrub soap into Ciel's hair. "You have to make them believe that it was their idea to summon you, that they truly want your help. No... that they need it, that their wish will never be fulfilled without you."

"How am I supposed to do that?"

Sebastian tilts his head to one side, seeming to consider the question. "Have you tried seeking out rituals? In a city as large as this, there's bound to be at least one person performing a rite or sacrifice or summoning at any given time of night."

"Wouldn't I feel those happening, or something?" Sebastian rinses Ciel's hair, carefully keeping the soapy water away from his master's eyes out of habit. He considers his answer again, knowing that Ciel will not like it, and finally the boy demands, "Well?"

Sink or swim. "Of course not. Rituals of any kind are human rubbish." Ciel's mouth drops open. "Did you honestly believe that assembling some wax, feathers, skulls, and hair in interesting patterns would attract a demonic being?"

Yes, he had. Sebastian sees that. "I must admit, your lot did a wonderful job with the ambiance. I felt right at home." That earns a glare, as does any allusion to Ciel's month of torture. "But, it was not them who drew me to that place, but you."

"Me?" Ciel blinks. He has obviously never considered this before. "But how did I... I was the sacrifice, I was meant to be a gift for you." Even though he is clean, he sits in the bathwater, frozen. "I didn't even believe in demons!"

"That doesn't matter. You wished for revenge, for freedom. You wished for power. And you did not care what the cost was."

His fingers clench the edges of the tub. He seems unable to speak, but finally, his mouth moves. "My wishing attracted you?"

Sebastian quickly loosens Ciel's fingers from the porcelain before he can crack it. "My Lord, your wishing pulled on every demon within a hundred kilometers. I was simply the one to stake a claim on you."

Ciel scoffs, yanking his hand out of Sebastian's grip. "As if I were a piece of meat."

"Prime choice." Sebastian grins. "Claude was not the only one who sought your soul, Young Master." However, before he entered into a contract with Ciel, he'd been strong enough to deflect such competition. As soon as he'd grown weak with hunger, his competition again made attempts. Although, only Claude came anywhere near succeeding. Ciel grumbles under his breath for a moment, but finally seems to realize that there's no reason for him to stay in the tub and stands up. Sebastian hands him a towel.

The butler takes another towel and uses it to begin drying Ciel's hair. The boy watches him with his right eye, still burned with the contract seal that will never fade. "You seem more well-adjusted than before." He notes with only a hint of sarcasm. Sebastian only smiles and lifts Ciel out of the tub.

"What else can I say, Young Master? I am simply one hell of a butler."

Ciel wakes suddenly and bolts upright, crimson eyes wide open and clear. "I can feel it!" He gasps, moving to the window in an instant. It's been three days since he spoke with Sebastian and by now the tiny scratching of hunger has become a sharp edge in his stomach. Not altogether painful, not yet, but demanding.

"Yes, I thought you might." Sebastian is standing in the corner of the room, expression made unreadable by the shadows. Ciel has to wonder how long he's been standing there. "Someone out there is desperate."

"What do I do?"

"I suggest you run, Young Master. That strong of a wish will have attracted the attention of more than just you." Ciel is gone before the sentence is complete. Sebastian smiles. Learns quickly, this one. Of course, he knows that there aren't any other demons close enough to feel the wish, but that is because he is much older and infinitely wiser than his young charge. Besides, it simply wouldn't do for the wisher to die before the boy got there.

Ciel follows the tugging sensation that closely resembles a rope lashed around his torso. Close! It leads him to the depths of the city's red-light district. The paper lamps swing as if stirred by a breeze as Ciel sprints past them, but he doesn't notice anything but the wishing, not even the fact that his slippers had fallen off some distance back and that he is now running barefoot over cobblestones. Suddenly a voice rings out in his head-Please! I can't anymore! Get away JUST GET AWAY FROM ME! A sob. Mom...

So now I have telepathy? He wonders to himself, skidding to a halt in front of the house. It's a whorehouse, like the rest of the buildings on this street. He tilts his head, listening. Please... I wish to get far away from here and never come back, never ever, just get AWAY no...!

Ciel slams open the door-when did he get this strength, it had been locked but now hung haphazardly from cracked hinges-and finds a scene that sickens the part of him that's still human. The demonic part is calculating, noting the numbers and positions of the various men in the large main room. Another part of his demon half seems to be seeking out the power that had drawn him here.

The wish is now an almost physical presence, surrounding a smallish girl of about thirteen years. She is cowering in the corner, trembling with fright and violation. She is bleeding from several knife swipes, naked, and coated with various kinds of filth and injuries. Everyone in the room stares at Ciel for an interminable moment. Then, the leader, the one brandishing a knife, snarls, "What d'YOU want, boy? Run home to your momma a'fore I slice you to ribbons! Go on, get!" He waves the knife in a vaguely threatening manner, but something in the small boy's face stops him from advancing. There is steel behind those blood-tinged irises. The purple contract glowing brightly over his right iris also gives the grown men reason to hesitate.

Ciel remains calm. Not like me. No ritual in sight. They're just torturing her for no reason at all. When he has mastered his impulsive fury and settled it into a steel coil deep within his chest, he takes in a deep breath. He can taste the soul. Pain, hopelessness, desperation... each is a unique spice to his enhanced senses. Is this why Sebastian had wanted his soul so badly...? It smells (his leftover human instinct makes his stomach turn at the thought of eating a human) so delicious, despite the taint. Or, perhaps, because of it. He stares deeply into the young girl's eyes.

Like selling something. "I can make them go away." He says softly, and he knows without feeling that they've stepped into the grey limbo where time ceases to pass, the same place he'd forged his contract with Sebastian. "I can grant your wish."

She stares up at him, eyes wide and breath coming in short, pained gasps. Some of those cuts are deep and still dripping. Without thinking about it, Ciel steps forward and runs his fingers lightly over the wounds. They seal with gentle hisses, and her expression changes from agony to relief. Ciel nonchalantly licks her blood from his hand, getting a taste of her soul through the fluid. Delicious. He hates himself for thinking so, but it truly is.

"You can help me," she breathes, arms coming up to clutch around her fragile body, still naked and shivering in this cold place. Ciel magics her a blanket-he knows without thinking that here, he can do anything he desires-and she gratefully takes it. "You can help me even though you're just a boy, just a child like me..."

"I'm hardly a child." Ciel says softly, and his voice is far too ancient to be coming from such a young body. "I am a monster. But I am at least preferable to those outside."

She nods, silently.

"Enter a contract with me, and I will grant your wish." Even though he does not mean for it to happen, Ciel's voice becomes silky, persuasive; the voice of a predator. "Be warned. The cost is steep. If you do this the Gates of Paradise will forever be out of your reach." He feels that giving the same warning Sebastian gave him is only fair. Her eyes harden behind the loose strands of greasy, stiff hair that cover them.

"I don't need Paradise." She almost growls, and the intensity with which she speaks almost surprises Ciel. "I need them to all die."

"Is that your wish?" He asked quietly. Surely it couldn't be something so simple, so... easy as murder?

hypocrite you too made a murder contract HYPOCRITE

Ciel blinks away the odd voice and stares down at the girl before him, who seems to be unaware of the disembodied voice. She shakes her head. "No... I want to go far away from here and never come back... and I want them all to suffer and die... that's all I want." Such a cold, biting tone should never come from the lips of a child.

not a child not an adult nothing no one just a meal

Ciel swallows, his throat suddenly dry, and again pushes the voice away. Will he really do this?

"You're sure?" He asks again, weakly.

"How many times are you going to ask me such stupid questions?! I'll pay whatever you want! Just," and she's crying, and so scared, and Ciel can do nothing to comfort her because he must see her as nothing but something to devour, he tries to pity her and cannot, "I wish for you to make them suffer. Then take me away. That's my wish. I'll sign whatever contract you want! Do we have a deal?!"

Ciel nods, once. It's done. He carves the seal into her shoulder. It's painless and settles on the skin in a bright shade of blue, the color his eyes once were before. She looks down at it, shyly, then back up at him. There are no words that must be said; all of the information is contained in the glyphs of the seal. He places the matching one, his obligation, onto his left shoulder. He does not know how he's received the knowledge to form contracts, it has just suddenly filled his head. The motion is as simple to him as walking.

instinct like breathing heartbeat so precious so simple so weak

Once the second seal settles into place, the grey void around them begins to swirl and fade as if draining from a sink, the strange voice fading as well. Colors lap against the edges of the grey, push it back, until the hovel Ciel had burst into forms around them again. The power comes only a split second after everything reforms, and Ciel has to stifle a gasp.

The gas lamps go out with a tiny twitch of his fingers. Seconds later, they relight and burn blue flame, filling the room quickly with insane heat. Ciel doesn't feel it. He has barricaded the door, trapping the torturers inside. This is now his domain. He can tell that the men in the room realize that something is off about the child who's barged in on their little game. A dark, evil feeling pulses from deep within him-he'd always wondered how Sebastian did that, apparently it comes naturally-and he watches fear creep over the torturers' expressions. They are the same faces as those who had done such horrible things to him when he was younger. Not the same people, obviously: Ciel had danced in their blood after Sebastian helped him kill them all. But the expressions are the same.

He takes great pleasure in returning the pain they'd given this child. So beautiful were the sounds: the crack of bones twisted beyond their limits slowly, the screams no one (but, of course, his contract-bearer) would hear, the hot blood splattering into his face. By the time he has finished inflicting every sick punishment he can imagine (there are a great deal of creative and painful ideas granted to him by the contract, and a great many torturers to practice them on), the bodies are unrecognizable. The girl has watched in fascinated horror as her vengeance is played out over almost seven hours. When the last one takes his final, pained gasp after an eternity of pure agony, Ciel lets him fall carelessly and kicks the corpse aside. His crimson eyes meet the girl's plain brown ones, and he smirks.

"Revenge enough for you?" He asks softly, and somehow his voice is still amused. He enjoyed the torture, he realized. He had enjoyed fulfilling this girl's wish. Ciel supposes this is because demons only exist for those two purposes-wish fulfillment and soul devouring-and doesn't question his feelings past that.

She lets out a long, shuddering breath. "Yes." Her fingers twitch, fidget. "You'll... take your price now, yes?"

"That's the way it must be."

"W-wait." She looks around, shudders. "Not here, please. Anywhere but here." I don't want to die in this room. Comes to Ciel unspoken. He smiles, lopsided, the expression somehow terrifying and reassuring at once.

"That was not my intention, I assure you." He is nowhere near as dramatic as Sebastian. He won't row a boat to an island or anything like that. But he does pick the girl's small body up and carry her out of the blood- and gore-soaked room. He doesn't notice that as he leaves, extinguishing the lamps automatically, a black cat jumps from a nearby roof and makes to follow him.

Ciel runs. The rush is exhilarating. No wonder Sebastian prefers running over riding in a coach. The city's smells and sounds streak past at dizzying speeds, but Ciel knows that the humans won't see him. They can't see anything, not when he has this power, the idiots. The girl-his victim, you could say, or would customer be a better word?-clings to his back and shuts her eyes, unable to handle the overload. Ciel hopes vaguely that she doesn't vomit, but she's so light that she probably hasn't been fed in too long of a time.

He takes her far away from the city, as he'd promised, past the fields and farms, running solidly for nearly an hour. He is not made hungrier by the run, though his contract does begin to tug at him constantly. It has fulfilled its purpose, and now demands payment for the lent power. Soon. Ciel finds himself promising, unsure of to whom.

After about an hour, perhaps a little longer, Ciel finds a decent place. The contract had been formed in the early evening. Now, the moon hangs brightly in the sky above them. Almost full, how absurdly poetic. There are no humans out here, no signs of civilization at all. He sets his charge gently down on the ground in front of him. Her heart is fluttering wildly and she seems to be attempting to take in everything surrounding her, from the August fireflies dancing over the grass to the cool breeze bringing fresh air from the north. She is especially fascinated by the moonlight, and tells Ciel as much.

He gives her five minutes to revel in her freedom. Then, he gently places a hand on her shoulder. She looks up at him, eyes wide, but does not attempt to run away. "It's time?" She asks, biting her lip. Ciel can only nod. She turns from him, takes a deep breath, and holds it for a long moment. Then, slowly, she lets it out and turns back to him. "A promise is a promise." Ciel is struck dumb by the suddenly memory of himself saying the same to Sebastian, in front of the ruins of the church, so long ago. She smiles. "Thank you, Mr. Whatever-You-Are. Will it hurt, much?"

"It will." Ciel says, bluntly. "I'll be as gentle as possible, but I can't prevent all of the pain." It is a pain he's never felt, and so cannot describe; he merely parrots his butler from all those months ago. The contracts are glowing, and it is only now that he realizes how deep even the simplest of these bonds goes. He can feel her anxiety, sadness, longing, and acceptance. He has to wonder at what Sebastian must have known about him before. Their bond had been (still was?) infinitely stronger than this one.

"It's alright." She closes her eyes. "I don't think it could hurt worse than what they'd done." And Ciel caresses her face carefully with the tips of his fingers and leans down, just barely touching her lips with his. Her memories begin to pour into him, and he sees his wish fulfillment through her eyes, her days of torture, her once loving father turned against her as her mother died of plague, eventually selling her to her torturers for another few bottles, a few more hours of anesthetic... it's her cinematic record, Ciel realizes, and it's only after he pushes past this first layer that he reaches the real treat.

The rest becomes instinctual; he rips the soul from her, inch by torturous inch. Though it is delicious to him, the taste indescribable, the flavor is undercut with the sharp edges of her pain that he can still feel through the contract. He makes slow progress, stopping often when the pain spikes, and fully devouring the soul takes so long that by the time he is done, the sky is streaked with the grey of the pre-dawn hours.

He can't remember ever having a more satisfying meal before. In the past weeks, his body had been almost entirely hollow and constantly reminding him of that fact. He feels whole now, and unbidden by him, a wide smile breaks out over his face. Ciel now understands Sebastian's jubilance after a feeding. He feels like dancing. The thought sends little bubbly chuckles streaming from his mouth and he claps one hand over his lips, mortified. But then his mortification becomes funny too and his head swims as he tries to hold in uproarious laughter.

The corpse of the girl lies where it has fallen. Ciel tilts his head to one side, considering, before carefully readjusting the body. Now, it looks as if she had merely fallen asleep and never woken up. If she is ever found, it would be determined that a heart attack or other sudden ailment took her life as she rested in the tall grass. Perhaps they'll think a monster popped up from the earth and gave her a fatal fright. This ridiculous thought sends the boy back into fits of barely-contained laughter. Ciel turns around and with considerable effort, begins his run back into the city.

It is only after he is more than halfway back that he realizes that he had never even asked for her name. The thought makes him stop running and paralyzes him with ironic laughter for well over twenty minutes.

Sebastian is ironing and whistling tunelessly to himself when Ciel gets back. The boy is practically skipping. "Ah, the triumphant returns." He murmurs, chuckling to himself and shaking the last wrinkle out of one of Ciel's shirts. He places the iron back near the fireplace to heat up again and turns to his young master. "How's your first?" The butler continues, cheerfully; the effects of the soul he'd devoured two weeks ago have not yet entirely dissipated. Ciel tries to mask his expression, but fails to fully suppress a grin. "You'll be feeling quite silly for the next four or five days; I'd recommend sleeping it off."

Ciel raises one eyebrow. "You didn't sleep yours off." For some reason, this is hilarious to him. The run back has only made Ciel even more exhilarated, and as he laughs openly in front of another for the first time in three years, his vision threatens to betray him and suddenly it takes effort just to remain upright. Somehow he ends up on the floor, sides aching vaguely.

"I," Sebastian begins with a haughty voice, "am centuries older than you and am more well-adjusted to the side effects."

"I feel like I've taken opiates," Ciel giggles, "or even something stronger."

"One might say that our kind is addicted to the drug of the human soul." Sebastian attempts to explain, but halfway through his sentence Ciel is again convulsing with laughter. The boy's limbs are tingling and it feels as if spiders are attempting to crawl from every pore, but somehow, the feeling is fascinating instead of disturbing. "...Right. Bed for you, now." Sebastian cannot help the next chuckle that escapes him at his young master's antics. Ah, to be young.

He scoops up the boy easily, though Ciel's heavier and warmer now that he's eaten a soul, and gets a disgruntled-yet-still-ecstatic, "leggo a' me!" from his charge. He follows the vague order with some amusement, dropping the boy into the hotel room's four-poster bed with little ceremony. As soon as Ciel hits the mattress, he realizes how full and drowsy he is, and suddenly even laughter seems to be not worth the effort. The butler carefully pulls and tucks his blankets around him and the warmth is the loveliest thing Ciel's ever experienced. "I love you." He tells Sebastian much too seriously. The demon snorts once. At this point, he'd tell anyone who looks at him twice that.

"Sleep it off, Young Master. I shall wake you in two days' time."

Ciel is already drifting off into unconsciousness, and so cannot object to his butler's proposal.

His dreams are colorful and fast and bright. He will not remember one second of them.

Author's Note: Howdy. So to be honest, this is only here to re-qualify me for beta reader status. I had never intended to publish this... so... I hope you're happy with what's here, because I'll probably never continue this story. The idea was to see how Ciel's new status as a demon would affect his and Sebastian's relationship (should they in fact survive). I was rather unsatisfied with the conclusion of II, and so decided to continue it in my own fashion. Any mistakes are mine alone; I would appreciate any criticism honestly offered.