The rise and fall of kings was nothing to him.

Among the derelict ruins, there was only the cold and the overcast sky enveloping them.

Still, Sebastian mirrored the silent crow, waiting for his young master to speak. At the very end, he had seen countless masters beg, pleading shamefully for an extension of the contract, their noses bare inches from the tips of his shoes in a futile attempt to sway his intention to retrieve their souls in exchange for the services he had rendered. He hadn't been moved, only amused to see the weakness of these humans with their shallow pride.

Humans were so incredibly helpless and weak.

To demons, they were the smallest, most insignificant insects that served no other purpose than to be preyed upon mercilessly. Yet, he hadn't seen enough to be unaffected when Ciel had looked him in the eye, and gave his final order - only that his death should hurt as much as possible.

Carve the pain of my life onto my soul, the boy had proclaimed, his proud spirit glowing in the dullness of his eyes briefly, his head falling back limply against the stone seat. And that was his young master to the core.

He smiled and promised to do as he was bid, the smile never reaching his eyes. He had done this a hundred times, and he would do it as often as it took, anything just to drive the stained edge of bloodlust and the sheer hunger that threatened to consume him in madness. To him who walked the earth for thousands of years, surely this amount of emotion was nothing. Nevertheless, he couldn't stop himself from smiling, wider still as Ciel glanced up at him with eyes so unreadable, and he wondered briefly what this flickering emotion meant. He leant in closer, his hand tracing the soft skin of his face. He couldn't tell if the blood that pounded so harshly belonged to the young master or him. His fingers glided through the silken blue-black strands, his mouth moving closer to the pale, trembling lips of the boy. Was it regret that this mere human would no longer walk the earth? Surely, it couldn't be anything that trivial. There was hunger, and that was all there was to it.

Even so, his hand lingered a moment longer before he drew even closer, pressing his lips against his young master so gently that the boy breathed in sharply – his last gasp of air before sharp teeth punctured those soft lips and drew their first taste of blood.

As he promised, he made it as painful as possible.

Unlike those humans, I never lie.

He couldn't take back any of his words, and the voice screaming inside his head was only a fragment of his self driven near insane by ravenous hunger. The sheer proximity of a meal within his grasp, led him to gasp even as he gripped the boy's shoulders harder and drank it all in. If he hurt the boy, made the boy's screams fill the void in him, sweetening his meal immeasurably with his anguish, then perhaps the rushing, cacophony of noise and sheer pain that bled through him would disappear as well. He heard the screaming that shook him to his core, and it was impossible for it to have come from anyone but the boy, and still he pressed deeper and found himself unsure. A part of him exulted in the wailing of the souls he had consumed, breathing in the agony of their despair as raw and delicious as it was, and yet it was becoming gradually submerged in a different kind of pain that tore through him unexpectedly. A part of him almost wished that things could have been different. He quelled that foolish notion firmly as the screams finally began to cease, tapering off into weak whimpers as the hot, richness of the boy's soul began to taper off. Nevertheless, there was a spark, and he couldn't shake the feeling that something was going terribly wrong.

The last vestiges of the child's soul disappeared before he could savour each tender morsel, and he pulled back from the empty body that had already begun to fade, surprised and unexpectedly disappointed at the loss. He ran his fingers through those silky blue-black strands, almost ephemeral in the growing light of the day, and found himself leaning in to kiss his hair. His fingers touched nothing but air, as even the outline of Ciel disappeared.

"And so it ends," he mused aloud, straightening and feeling his old strength settling in, rushing hotly through his veins, and reacquainting him with its familiar power.

He looked up when the crow cried once, twice, thrice – and felt the strongest urge to tear its wings off as it winged its way swiftly through the grey London sky. He had claimed his half of the contract and their bond had ended, just like that.

Ciel had been right. Everything was just a little too fast. It wasn't his first contract with a human, and it most certainly wasn't going to be his last. So why did the memories of the past few years of his life replay in his mind? He saw Ciel's thinly concealed glee when presented with dessert, he remembered the magnificence of the Phantomhive mansion nearly brought to ruin by the general incompetence of the staff, he anticipated the tears of Lady Elizabeth waiting for a fiancé who would never return. He looked further still, and saw the swift passage of seasons as marble pillars crumbled into dust, broken shards of cherished porcelain ground beneath the heel as the endless lawns led forth into a new era that drove the rot further into the souls of human beings.

Already, the older days were fading. Never would he have a contract of this calibre again.

The thought left him unexpectedly melancholic. There had been a great number of occasions when he had found himself longing for his freedom, when he was still under the bondage of the contract that left him with no choice but to stay by Ciel Phantomhive's side until the fulfilment of his revenge. Yet, the moment he had been set free, he celebrated his first taste of freedom in years by returning to the place of his contract.

He could almost taste the small smirk on Ciel's face as he would drawl out, a hand carelessly tapping on the smooth oaken table, his tone infuriatingly smug and superior.

Missing your kennel already? Good dog.

He bit his lip deep enough for it to bleed. Something was calling out to him from within the mansion, and he couldn't leave until he had addressed that strange, niggling doubt. He walked down the hallways, surveying the damage done to the mansion by the great fire, until he reached the study. He was about to knock before he caught himself, lowering his hand, and wondering again at the uncanny instinct which had led him to return again to this godforsaken place. Entering the study quietly, he saw that the windows were wide open, the cold winds fluttering the papers on the desk and the soft sound of rustling leaves coming in from the garden.

His young master's chair swivelled slowly around and Sebastian caught his breath.

"Aren't you supposed to knock before you enter?" An annoyed quirk of the lips, and the child's eyes were empty.

"Young master, forgive my candour, but exactly what can you remember?"

"What do you mean? I woke up this morning, the mansion was a mess and the entire household staff was nowhere to be seen. Honestly, those idiots are more trouble than they're worth – and yes, that does include you. What are you doing as a butler of the Phantomhives? Where's my breakfast?"

The child looked more troubled than angry.

"Yes, my lord. Please forgive me. Breakfast would be ready in fifteen minutes."

He bowed again on his way out, noting silently the way the child's eyes lingered on him longer than necessary.

Sebastian sighed as he got the other servants back into active employment, breathing down their necks as they groaned and struggled to rub the sleep from their eyes. Then they had shrieked to notice his bloodied attire, and then Finian started weeping when he noticed the corpse of the dead hell dog, making Maylene cry with him out of sympathy while Bard rolled his eyes at "those damned pussies", turning away discreetly to wipe away a tear or two. Sebastian sighed and warned them to be presentable so they could begin the preparations for breakfast.

"What's on the agenda for this morning?"

"At ten, you will be undergoing an intensive study of the independent monarchy of the Netherlands and its implications on the British empire. Lunch will be served at noon promptly, and the next three hours of the afternoon will be devoted to violin practice – don't frown like that, young master, it's highly unflattering and would leave permanent creases between your brows – and dinner will be served at six."

"What's wrong with you?" Ciel asked abruptly.

"Whatever do you mean?"

"You're acting strange. What are you not telling me?"

This could be the chance for him to break the news to his young master. He could put it across in the gentlest way possible and watch the young master shatter irreparably as the faint kiss of the last word trembled in the air. The last fragment of the soul would be returned to him. Yet, as he looked at the infinite blue of those eyes, he remembered the richness of the blood in his mouth and those soft, pale lips that had trembled and ordered for his death to hurt as much as possible.

He remembered the young master he adored to every last inch, richly sardonic and that bitter elegance that he wore so carelessly, the life he threw away in pursuit of his vengeance, acting as his sole attestation of his own existence. Was this the act of fate? The young master didn't believe in it, but he knew that fate existed and was not without a heavy sense of irony.

Ah…Ciel… whatever am I going to do with you?

If he was honest with himself, he already knew what had transpired between the two of them to have led to this turn of events. But the young master didn't know. To be precise, the young master didn't have to know.

"Oh? Is the young master worried about me? This lowly servant is very moved by such concern!"

Ciel glared at him and he couldn't resist smiling.

The first thing he set down for Ciel to understand was that he was not to leave the house for an indefinite period of time.

The child had protested at first, sounding completely outraged at the temerity of his demon butler to order him about, but those protests soon subsided into a weary acquiescence as Sebastian patiently wore him down with threats of the Queen's displeasure and bribes of even more fantastic desserts if he obeyed and stayed indoors. The other servants took a longer time to wear down, but all it took was a casual mention that their silence ensured that their master remained safe, and nothing more was heard from them.

He couldn't prevent them from becoming more distant around Ciel, however, and it was something which the young Earl couldn't understand. He pretended as though it didn't concern him, and ignored Sebastian's many attempts to discuss the servants' attitudes, but he looked even more lonely than before.

In a moment of weakness, he had asked Sebastian if he had done something which had offended the rest of the servants somehow, before looking mortified that he had even asked such a question. Sebastian had smiled and assured him that nothing of that sort had happened. He did inform the young master that Tanaka was looking rather worn out lately, and perhaps, should be retired with a generous severance package. The idea didn't appeal to Ciel in the least, who had always been closest to Tanaka, as the genial old man was the last link he had with his past. But it hadn't gone unnoticed that the old man had a few more wrinkles than he had, the day before, and the other servants were starting to look out of shape.

A few more days passed, and the entire household staff resigned.

Ciel's eyes were unreadable as he stood by the window and waited for the moon to rise.

There was no other person in the household except for him, and the Earl's isolation was coming to bear upon him heavily. Among the lost memories, was his desire for revenge, which had faded away into inconsequentiality. He had thought that the boy would be pleased with the lack of intrusions in his life, but Ciel grew paler and quieter with every day, and the strain was becoming visible. Sebastian remembered that he had sworn to serve and protect him, upon the moon which waxed and waned, and he had come to feel something other than contempt for the human boy, as weak and helpless as he was. There was something about that indescribably lonely expression on his face that made him yearn to either kill him, or save him, anything to make that blank look disappear. He wanted to protect him from the inevitable, or destroy that damnable boy who made him so weak, willing to lie quietly as he was tied to this terrible fate, existing without living, condemned to fade away at an indefinite time. The boy who stood beside him now, was someone who should never have existed.

Together, they watched the moon rise.

"Let me live as I have lived, and to die, when life is no longer enough."

"Yes, my lord."

He had to leave every so often in order to procure the supplies which kept the mansion in order.

Excellent tea was becoming a rarity, and the upkeep of the manor was becoming difficult as fewer and fewer places stocked the relevant supplies. The days ticked by and it was precisely twenty days since the cold morning at the abandoned mansion. He was a hell of a butler, but he was still only one person and Ciel had adamantly refused to hire anyone else. It was also difficult work when a demanding master rang a bell to summon him every few minutes. He supposed it was the sort of thing which would have irritated anyone with a lower level of tolerance than his, but he saw the thinly-disguised look of relief in Ciel's eyes each time he appeared, and somehow he bore with it.

They played chess at night, and sometimes he condescended to play with half the time limitation and his eyes blindfolded, a handicap that outraged Ciel as much as it was necessary, in order for the young earl to force a stalemate from him. After all, he had promised the young master a special prize when he managed to win a game and the presentation of a challenge had brought some of the colour back into Ciel's cheeks. The young master frowned harder and tried to think, while Sebastian smiled and wished that these days would last forever.

The thirtieth day came and nothing he made could entice Ciel to eat.

He made everything from baked apricot and cream pies, to a ravishing triple layered chocolate and strawberry masterpiece topped with a delicate chariot made from a single shaving of chocolate, but beyond the first bite which he suspected that the young master took just to reassure him that his food was just as delicious as always, the rest of it was left untouched.

"Is the food not to your liking?"

His young master had shaken his head moodily, looking as though he was about to ask something, before changing his mind and standing to leave the table. He halted at the foot of the staircase, and in the shadows, Sebastian realised that his young master's shoulders were shaking, fine tremors running through his body as he hugged himself, unable to speak even as his damp eyes reflected a stark sense of bewilderment and pain.

What am I, Sebastian?

He didn't answer, taking long strides to reach his master's side and enveloping him in an embrace that promised to protect him from all his fears.

"Don't go away."

"I'd never leave your side even in death."

That night, he let Ciel win after a long struggle on the chessboard.

Ciel had smiled delightedly, the first genuine smile Sebastian had seen in days, flushed with the long sought victory and smugly demanded his prize. Sebastian didn't know which one of them was really the victor, when he grinned viciously and watched Ciel's smile falter. He made it to the other side of the table before Ciel could blink, pulling him roughly onto his feet and into a heated kiss, sliding one hand inside Ciel's jacket while the other threaded through his hair and caressed the back of his neck. Ciel bared his neck in response, silently asking for more, and he was only too pleased to oblige, nibbling at those soft lips and caressing them with his tongue until Ciel whimpered and caved in, letting Sebastian explore his mouth as he would. He pulled away, still smiling as Ciel blinked, disoriented, before he flushed all the way to his neck in mortification.

"Wha-what kind of prize is that?"

"Oh, the real prize comes after that," he murmured lowly into his lovely ear, unable to stop himself from beaming, his eyes glinting a little in the flickering candlelight.

The Earl spluttered and turned even redder, trying not to die of embarrassment when he moaned involuntarily as Sebastian licked his ear sensuously. Ciel looked entirely horrified at himself and Sebastian laughed for the first time in decades.

He woke up the next morning, to find that the bed was empty.

His terror sharpened immeasurably when he realised that the young master was nowhere in the bedroom, and only a note was left on the table, informing him that he should sleep a little longer as the Earl had already left to purchase breakfast on his own, and that any presumption that such luxurious conditions would continue, would not be tolerated.

Sebastian snarled as he read the note, crumpling it as he fought the overwhelming urge to destroy something.

He had gotten complacent, he had believed that these days could last forever and this was his just reward. A scream of rage was building up in the back of his throat as he tore through the house, hoping against hope that he was still in time to catch that idiot boy before he left the house.

The door was open.

Sebastian was unable to speak, when he saw his master's silhouette outlined in the bright light of day.

"Why?"

It was all that Ciel was able to say, his shock and terror materialising in that one word as his eyes took in the scene of modern day London. The lawns had been shortened dramatically to a short driveway which led straight to the house, and beyond the gates of rusted iron, foreign modes of transportation were running, the people were grotesquely different, the time of the day unchanged and unmistakeable as the same overcast sky loomed over the once-familiar streets, now replaced by the foreign realm that stretched as far as the eye could see. Monstrously tall buildings towered in the distance and the chaos, the smoke and the sound of incessant noise were replaying themselves in his mind and all of a sudden, he felt his chest hurt and he remembered, he remembered, he remembered - the pain and blood and the screams dying in the last kiss -

Ciel opened his eyes slowly, painfully.

"It was a dream, young master," he whispered, rocking the boy in his arms.

"It was?" Ciel was finding it harder to breathe, his eyes tired as he sought out the increasingly blurred outline of his butler.

"It was all a dream, and we all know they don't last, don't we?" Ciel smiled, a beautiful smile, looking entirely at peace.

Sebastian saw the colour of heaven in those wide eyes and didn't recognise the foreign sensation as something wet fell from his eyes, dampening Ciel's hair, his hand shaking as he tried in vain to wipe the droplets away.

"I don't think mine has ended," the boy confided.

"It hasn't?"

"You're by my side, aren't you?"

Sebastian opened his eyes and found himself standing at the abandoned mansion alone.

THE END

A/N: I don't know why FF erased all my line breaks so I had to reupload this chapter. Sorry to those who still have this story on alert status.

Lastly, thank you for all the lovely reviews. You make me happy.