A/N: Hey guys, I hope you're all safe and sound. Please stay home if you're able, and remember to take precautions if you need to go out. Here's the next chapter of our tale, and with some luck, it'll bring you a brief respite from real-world problems. And a laugh, if I'm fortunate! A big hug to all of you.

A very special thanks to those who followed/favourited, those being: IamMelapples, BankaiTensa, TaeJ18, zarimings, Supernatural Aurora, EthaGrinndt, cutelittlekitten18, ForeverXAlice, and last but certainly not least Stellar Spririt!

Disclaimer: I, ABitterRabbit do not own Kuroshitsuji nor any of its characters, they all belong to the wonderful Yana Toboso! Except for my OCs and original plot.

As always, read and review if you feel it's merited!

Chapter 5: That Rabbit, Pantry Politics*

"The first method for estimating the intelligence of a ruler is to look at the men he has around him." - Niccolo Machiavelli

No, no, no, Sybil shook her head.

Proper maids did not burn their snooty little masters' homes to the ground.

She stood up from her kneeling position and dusted off her hands. Admiring the flames blazing in the fireplace, she nodded in satisfaction and then moved to continue with her dusting.

Unable to sleep for more than four hours, Sybil had started work early on the parlour floor—opening the curtains, scrubbing as well as sweeping the floors, and dusting. It was still too early and far too chilly outside to air out the rooms.

By the time she'd cleaned her way to the drawing-room, it was around five in the morning. With no issues seeing in the dark, she'd had no need for lamps or candles. Though seeing as it was about time for the other servants to rise, she saw no harm in lighting one in the drawing-room.

Just so no one thought her nutty for cleaning in the dark. Couldn't have them knowing she was anything but ordinary now, could she?

Admittedly, she'd been hit with the impulse to set the whole room ablaze when she'd handled the matches. Fortunately, she'd been able to restrain herself, but she was quite peeved. Her nature was so ill-suited for her personality, at least, now that she was not as young or innocent as she once had been. But then again, had she ever really been innocent in the first place? Her lips thinned into a line.

Or had it only been ignorance?

Clasping her hands together, she busied herself with sweeping.

The more preoccupied she was, the less she could focus on the tenebrous energy radiated by the entire manor house. Goosebumps littered her skin as her eyes glanced over the room. It was beautiful and the definition of luxury, but by Jove, did something feel inherently off about things.

How the Hell did anyone get a good night's sleep in this place?

She shuddered. You might as well go dig up a stiff and then take a nap in its grave. Then Sybil raised an eyebrow and tilted her head. Wait, no, that would be a thousand times better.

Collecting the dirt in the dustpan, she glanced at the hearth. She hadn't seen heads nor tails of a brownie on the premises. That was no surprise either.

Phantomhive manor had been the work of a demon's hands after all.

House sprites only inhabited human dwellings, and they stayed in them come Hell or high water. That was only true of mortal homes, however.

This was merely a stage.

A stage for whatever wish the ancient creature was to orchestrate to completion. Riches, love, fame—none of that took much time at all for such powerful beings. Or at least, that's what she'd heard.

The day before, Mey-Rin had told her how long each servant had been working for Phantomhive; Tanaka had been in their service for the longest, and Sybil now had the least time there. But the butler had been with the boy the longest after Tanaka, around the same time he'd had the accident that cost him both his eye and his parents.

Crackling flames threw shadows across the dim room.

Her heart grew heavy at that knowledge. For it meant the old demon had found the child at his most vulnerable...his most broken. To lose a loved one so young was a terrible thing. She would know.

A stab of shame tore through her gut for a moment. She felt wretched.

Taking a deep breath, she let it go and approached the large windows.

Sybil opened the curtains, basking in the tiny amount of light that poured in, poor as it was. It was suffocating—to always have freedom just beyond her reach—taunting her. As far as the demon butler was concerned, she was nothing more than a new bauble in a child's toy chest. One that would be played with and discarded as soon as its novelty wore off.

It would be forgotten and left to rot on its own.

Her grip on the heavy fabric tightened. Sloe-eyes and pink lips smiled sweetly at her from the recesses of her consciousness, and she felt so bitter she could choke on the damn feeling.

Grumbling, she spun on her heels to march over to her cleaning supplies. Only to flatten herself against the window when she found the demon butler staring down at her. His silhouette was outlined in the orange light of the fire.

"What, pray tell, are you doing at four-fifty in the morning?"

Slightly embarrassed at her reaction, she adjusted her stance, though still maintaining her distance. It was a struggle not to shake when he was watching her with such reptilian eyes.

"I was sure Mey-Rin was the one with poor eyesight." Ah, but her mouth never seemed to fail her in these situations apparently. The biting remark had slipped out on its own. Even so, she gave the cleaning implement a little shake as if to truly check if the otherworldly creature's vision was failing him due to old age. She just couldn't help it. Damn her nature!

Sebastian merely raised an unimpressed eyebrow at the little maid.

The Phantomhive butler snatched her by the wrist, pulling her closer. His abrupt touch made her hackles rise. Trying to ignore the burn of her palm, she clutched the feathered duster even tighter.

He leaned in, their noses just barely touching. She was instantly hyper-aware of his body and the amount of stifling heat it expelled. It reminded her of being far too close to an open fire—unpleasant.

The second his pupils changed, she bowed her head.

Grasping her jaw, he made her look up at him.

"Make no mistake, my orders are to keep you here and keep you alive. I am under no obligation to make this a pleasant experience," her surroundings grew darker and darker until the sole light was the pitiful glow of burning wood and the crimson coals of his eyes, "and so far I have been given no reason to do so."

The girl couldn't move—forced to stare back into the demon's eyes with wide tinsel eyes. She felt so small. So stupid. So very insignificant compared to the raw power emanating from the devil before her.

Fear seeped out of every pore, and the only thought she could muster was why she possessed such rotten luck. Her shoulders hunched as the young maid tried to instinctively withdraw into herself.

But as skilled as Sebastian was at fooling others, so was the girl at fooling herself.

And at that moment, she decided she wasn't a coward. She was strong enough to take it. Despite how badly she wanted to cry. She could endure this a little longer, just long enough to plan her escape.

She'd been manipulated before and in worse ways.

All she had to do was picture one face in particular, and she found her anger burned brighter than the terror swallowing her whole. She could play a part.

"What kind of butler punishes a subordinate for starting their chores early?" her question was punctuated with a small, quivering laugh. For once, the anxious habit had come in handy.

The beast's eyes widened a smidge, and he stared at her without reply. The python-like vice around Sybil's body slackened. And just like that, the drawing-room was back to normal. Wobbly from the encounter, she used the back of a chair to keep herself from completely falling over. The Phantomhive butler smoothed down his lapels—crisp and unruffled as though he hadn't just scared the young woman half to death.

Straightening her own servants' livery, Sybil watched as the taller servant swiped a gloved finger over the fireplace. No dust marred the pristine material, not a speck. He continued his inspection in silence, so accustomed to certain disaster striking when someone else handled chores. Sebastian's eyes traced over the delicate ornaments and expensive upholstery.

Nothing was out of place or even slightly damaged. The man's eyebrow raised gently. At least Mey-Rin had some help now; Hell knew the woman was about as blind as a bat when she had to do anything other than snipe.

His eyes followed her movements as she wiped down the last window-sill, "Is that how you handle conflict? I must say it has been a while since I've seen a professional fool."

"No greater a fool than an old man being ordered about by a child still wet behind the ears," Sybil grumbled as she moved to check on the flower vases. Mm, these would need changing.

Sebastian's eyebrow twitched at her cheek after what had transpired mere seconds ago.

She had a similar air to the young master, save for the fact that she appeared to both acknowledge and understand who was in control. Which in turn made her softly uttered quips all the perter.

At least with the human spawn, he could chuckle at the delusions of authority the young earl exuded. Such was the tendency for contractors, and yet the joke never lost its dramatic irony.

Sebastian leaned down, for the top of her head failed to reach past his shoulder, to speak in her ear. And baring his teeth in a harsh simper, spoke, "I would watch my tongue, if I were you, lest you wake and find it missing. "Especially, seeing as you had the gall to present yourself as my relative."

She froze up immediately at his proximity, and his ears caught the sound of her little heart faltering inside her chest.

The simper now reached his eyes.

Though he supposed it was amusing to have someone to cower at him for the right reasons...A new way to de-stress, perhaps.

"It," she paused to steady herself, "it was not my idea, Mister Michaelis. I simply went along with what the gardener had already told them."

"Oh? Is that so?" He quirked a dark eyebrow at her. "Because I have the distinct impression you are guarding your nature rather meticulously from me…" The contract butler had slowly backed her into a corner separated only by the wilting bouquet—pennyroyals, mock orange, lavender, and tansy—she clutched against her breast.

"You're invading my personal space, please move." The petition was slow and measured, but the nervous thump of her pulse said otherwise.

"The more you hide it," he plucked purple sprig from her hands, "the more drastic the measures I will be obligated to take to learn it, Miss Vane..." Sebastian tucked the flower behind her ear, "And you will find I am quite persistent when my curiosity is piqued.".

The girl swallowed and stepped back from him, "Touch...touch me again...and I will scream." She tried not to look away despite how hard her hands were shaking. Already anxious after the suffocating squeeze he'd given her mere minutes ago.

With a wicked grin, Sebastian lunged forward and slammed his hands against the wall on either side of her; only for the girl to dodge with a panicked yelp just as he'd expected. Though the butler's amusement was short-lived. For he hadn't expected his subordinate to fling the stale water square at his face—flowers and all. He was not a happy demon.

Still holding the—now empty—vase, Sybil stared at the senior servant with a hand pressed to her lips in shock. It had been purely reflexive.

Black locks were plastered to his face and petals stuck to his head and shoulders. Water dripped from the ends of his hair and down his chin. One red eye twitched. How undignified.

Setting the decorative container down gingerly, she tried to make herself very small as she inched toward the door while he wasn't paying attention. Why had she done that? Hell's bells. Hell's bells. He-

"Miss Sybil...," the butler hadn't moved an inch, "come here." Here he turned to face her with a smile and a tick in his brow.

Red eyes and slitted pupils zeroed in on her tiny form.

She bolted.

"Ah, ah, ah." He snatched her by the back of her collar and spooked her further by lifting her off her feet.

The girl clawed at his hands, struggling to loosen his iron grip, "You started it, Mister Michaelis!"

"And so I will end it." His smile grew even wider at the sight of the wee thing kicking her little feet in the air, "I do believe this warrants a slap on the wrist, youngling." Oh, he could certainly make a habit of this.

Her eyes widened in terror as she thrashed like a cat's plaything, "MEY RIN!"

And then the bastard had the gall to laugh.

Her jaw clenched.

She should've made him eat the vase.

BOOM.

. . .

As Sybil blinked dumbly at the destroyed kitchen, the American realized that being found first thing in the morning half-buried under the charred remains of the kitchen table may not have been the best way to start to Sebastian's cousin's day.

Or Sebastian's.

"Morning," the cook scratched the back of his head.

Alarmed—and confused—the girl stepped forward, "Mr Bardroy, are you alri–"

Her mouth clamped shut when she felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. Peeking over her shoulder at the butler, she cleared her throat. Sebastian's face was the embodiment of vexation.

Surely, he wouldn't hurt them...would he? Butlers didn't do that sort of thing. Then again, he had just scared the living daylights out of her in the drawing-room and used her as some sort of squeezable toy. All with a delighted grin on that mug of his.

Her ribs had already healed from the day before, though judging from the pain, she might have some lovely new bruises wherever the brute had gripped her. If her body decided it was a good day to be durable, however, she may not have to deal with the purple blotches.

"Bard," the raven-haired man's eyes settled on the cook, "would you care to explain why most of the kitchen is outside?" An icy breeze slithered in through the new hole in the manor wall. One that granted them a view of the grass and trees just outside the residence.

Sybil raised an eyebrow at the butler. It appeared their superior had a habit of asking rhetorical questions.

Gingerly, Sybil brushed past the Phantomhive butler. Helping the soot-covered man to his feet, she checked him over for serious injuries

"Had a bit of a mishap with today's breakfast…", the blond cleared his throat. "I think the flamethrower accidentally lit the dynamite I had stored in one of the cupboards..." He coughed, avoiding the butler's stern glare.

The girl blanked. Then she very slowly looked up at the human man. Explosives. Why in the world would he need explosives so early in the morning? Had they been attacked? Sybil frowned. No, she hadn't heard so much as a peep from the areas surrounding the earl's estate.

"I'm...I'm sorry, did you say 'flamethrower'?"

Bard's face reddened slowly at the little maid's disbelief.

The demon butler pinched the bridge of his nose, "Our cook is of the adamant belief that traditional methods of food preparation are lacking."

"You cook", she reiterated with a tilt of her head, "with a flamethrower." Strange...but she had come close to setting the drawing-room ablaze on a whim, so she had no room to talk. A flamethrower…

Reason quickly ended her train of thought, the butler will cripple you before you so much as light a candle with it.

The American took an annoyed drag from his cigarette, "It's just fas—!"

Clapping his hands together, the butler stepped forward, "That's quite enough idling, you two. I expect this kitchen to be cleaned up in time for afternoon tea."

And so Sybil and Bard had a grand time tidying up and sharing a few secretive grouses about their supervisor.

. . .

It was chilly out, despite the sunlight that peeked through the clouds.

Sybil had concluded that the garden wasn't quite as awful in terms of creepy energy. She wondered if it too was manifested by the demon butler, but she supposed it was easier to feel less caged when the rustle of leaves and the smell of grass surrounded her.

Originally, she'd meant to cut the flowers for the new arrangements from the woods, but the blond had kindly told her to take her pick from the Phantomhive gardens. She was well aware that one normally used garden flowers, but after the earl's butler had nearly bitten her head off for doing her job—and early at that—she felt less welcome to use the estate's resources.

Finnian, however, had proven otherwise. A slight smile curled the corners of her lips. The gardener was a veritable ray of sunshine. And though a tad excitable, his good cheer was contagious. Glancing at the garden shears he'd pressed into her hands, she shook her head. He was strong, very strong, judging by the force he'd unwittingly used to hand her the sharp object. It was curious considering he was a human.

He'd hummed as he cleaned up the perennial beds in preparation for winter, working on pink phlox blooms. Then he'd run off to check the greenhouse with an energetic wave. The maid couldn't help the quiet laugh that escaped her. He reminded her of Tillie...Here the smile dampened.

No, there was no reason to be sad. She'd done the right thing despite her own desires. That was a virtue, wasn't it?

Sybil eyed the vibrant flowers she'd gathered in the wicker basket. Hopefully, the colourful blossoms would aid the house's awful ambience. Though now she believed it was silly to think a few pretty things might fill the hollow bowels of damned grounds. She'd tried that quite enough as a child. It was best to simply accept things for how they were at times.

A late autumn breeze blew by, carrying the sound of shaking leaves on it. As it whipped a few of her dark locks about, she impulsively whistled a small tune.

"They say if you whistle, you challenge the wind itself...Are you trying to call down a storm on our poor little house?"

"We're not on a ship, Papa~"

"That doesn't mean it can't hear us, Sybbie!"

Her eyes dimmed at the memory of smiles and a voice that sounded as though it was always on the verge of a chuckle.

Standing up, she bent to pick up her materials. Looking over her shoulder, the maid noticed the gardener hadn't returned yet. Ah, she'd need to return the garden shears before going back ins—

A whiff of blood made her pause.

Something was feeding.

It wasn't long before she'd traced the smell and found something less than pleasant.

Blood and fluff littered the ground, along with the normal things one would find: leaves, stones, grass, soil, and fallen branches. Sybil observed as a rabbit dragged a white snake by the tail, away from its burrow.

The reptile had found the doe's nest, and from the smell, the girl garnered it had eaten the young. Clumps of fur rolled in the breeze near the hole.

Sybil watched. The breeze drained the warmth from her fingers.

Rearing on the mammal, the adder struck, biting the creature. Still, the poor coney refused to let go, struggling with it in the dirt and striking out with its hind legs. Despite the serpent's grip, it received its fair share of blows. This continued until the venom incapacitated the adder's prey and the fight in the rabbit died with it.

Slithering free, the serpent approached the fallen doe's head, unhinging its jaw. Slowly, it worked its maw over the head—

SHING.

Placing her basket down, the maid lifted the mother into her arms. Digging a small grave in the soil, she buried her at the foot of a tree, covering the body with earth and leaves. Her hands shook as she pushed the cold soil over its soft fur. She turned to leave only for a faint squeak from within the burrow to urge her to take a look.

Kneeling, Sybil listened closely. Then, she reached in carefully. Searching. Something took a good nip at her fingers and she winced.

In a moment, she withdrew her hand and with it came a sole male kit. The poor thing shivered in the cold and had some pieces of fur from the nest clinging to it, but it was very much alive. It was so small, it must have been born about two weeks ago, its eyes were open and had soft charcoal fur covering its tiny body. Her heart lurched in her chest, it was so vulnerable out here. It wasn't even done weaning yet. Sybil bit her lip, debating on whether or not she should take care of it.

Finally, she leaned her head back and sighed with a glance to the small creature.

"Oh, I suppose it couldn't hurt." She smiled softly at the ball of fur in her hands.

She couldn't keep it forever, but she would at the very least help it survive without its mother—for now. The black kit snuggled against her hands for warmth.

Sybil gently wrapped him up in a small cloth and tucked him into her wicker basket. With a swish of her skirts, she bent down and plucked the shears that were wedged in the ground.

Eyeing the blades she murmured, "I'll have to wash these."

And so, the young woman made her way back to the manor house.

...

The soil darkened as it soaked up the red that pooled around the reptile's forgotten head.

A/N: *Servants' talk (Victorian speak 1884)

Reviews~

Aleta Wolff: Thank you very much for your kind praise! Indeed, Sebastian and Ciel are very much business partners in a demonic deal. The demon has had so many opportunities to act at being human and playing with his food is second nature, I believe. It's also important to remember that whenever Seb appears to show some emotion or care for Ciel, he is in 'butler' mode. Or there's a serious risk of him losing his meal. That's part of the fun of reading the manga too, you have to keep your wits about you because he'll pull the wool over your eyes as well... I'll do my best to keep true to his nefarious and smarmy personality! Underneath the butler facade of course!:)

Wavywavy: Right? He's been mentored by a demon for a good while, for goodness' sake! We can't have him showing any weakness in front of the swallow-tailed bastard. Aww, thank you for sticking with it despite me flying off the grid for so long! Ooh, fantastic, palpitations are my goal;} Thak you for reading, Wavy!

Milliana07: I try to have a schedule, but of course, real-life beckons me to pay it quite a lot of attention, so sometimes I don't always follow it. I'm also kind of super picky with my chapters, so sometimes I'll have at it until I'm happy with it...or satisfied at least! Glad that the interest is there for Syb's nature, haha, awesome! Thank you so much for this bread and butter, and I hope this chapter was up to par:D

Nebula Stark (Guest): Sing it, buddy! Yup, we've got a real cutthroat deal there. Which just makes the whole situation better, I feel, because you come to like the characters and the dynamic they have, but there's always that little voice stabbing you in the feels because you know it's all on a very rocky foundation of 'what can I get out of this person'. Yana does it spectacularly. Especially since there's an ironic and rather tragic sort of father/son sibling dynamic laced in...

Manon (Guest): Merci!

X-Gamermaid (Guest): Yes, Mey Rin is a doll! A tad clumsy, but I have awful eyesight myself lol. Sybil and Mey will definitely have a fun dynamic, haha. Of course, Sybil isn't exactly there by choice...and doesn't intend to with a demon hanging around. I'm glad I'm keeping them in character, so thank you for that. Cheers!

Majopi: Aw, thank you! Yes, they're just two peas in a pod, aren't they?:3

Rogue (Guest): Not to worry, there will be none of that! Mey Rin is a sweetie, yes she is. Just remember that the new maid isn't there by choice and is in a house full of strangers who she is aware are apparently trained killers so...not the best foot to start with lol. Especially with a full-blown demon breathing down her neck.

Geckco (Guest): Yes, it was actually that from the start. I was messing around with the properties and it seems I forgot to change it back. Indeed, dear Geckco, Sebastian doesn't deserve it! Ciel is a child, so there will be none of that with Syb, of course. By no means, will this be a normal or even really happy(?). Because this is a demon, we're talking about. Love will not make a human of something that never was to start with.

Given Sebastian's nature and Sybil's own, it isn't so much a matter of deserving or your typical romance tale. As one would expect from a predator/prey dynamic. Don't you worry:]