A/N: Welcome, readers! To clear initial confusion, this story is being told in first person, with alternating points of view between Sebastian and Ciel. Each chapter will give you a little heads up as to whose brain is being probed. This chapter is in Sebastian's point of view. Additionally, each chapter will have its own set of warnings. Well, here goes. . .

Warnings: character death, religious themes

I couldn't say that I had been very eager to return home. It hadn't been my intention to return on an empty stomach either. However, with the soul that I so craved cradled in my arms, I did return. Shamed and starved, I carried him to the deepest depths of Hell. It was immediately clear to my brethren that he didn't belong there. His rebirth was indeed an impure one. Without my protection, he would have been obliterated from the very start.

He didn't take well to his new surroundings the first couple of weeks. Hell hadn't the capacity to be anything other than abysmal, even to those that were bred there. It wasn't long before my eternal master was demanding we return to Earth. I tried my hardest to explain to him that the surface was no place for us to live, but he would have none of it.

Defeated, I took him up in my arms once again and swept him off to the human realm. It was then that I found myself to be an Earthbound demon with no alternate purpose, other than catering to the every whim of my tiny, halfbreed master. We took temporary refuge in a crumbing, abandoned castle. The young master was clearly unimpressed by the rubble and debris which comprised most of the tragic structure. Given that Ciel Phantomhive was dead to the world, it was the best we could do for the time being, since the stubborn demon child refused to leave England.

My young master spent his days playing chess with himself (on a set that he insisted I retrieve for him). I, myself, had next to nothing to do with my time. Within moments of our arrival, I had already cleared a great deal of the debris from the castle and tidied up everything I could. I had nothing to cook, nothing to clean, nothing at all. . .

So, I stood beside my master, like the dog I had become, just waiting for a command. I was consumed with agony. . . oh, how it ached. A hunger, which I could not satisfy, began to eat at my very core. The meal I so desperately yearned for sitting peacefully beside me.

"Play me, Sebastian," the young demon requested one dreary afternoon. It was the perfect day for a demon; a low lying fog dancing ominously over the hillside, whilst angry, black clouds made their way overhead. The air was so heavy that you could feel it bearing down upon your body.

I took a seat across from him, finding the whole prospect of playing against him redundant and tedious. He liked to consider himself the king of games, but against me, he was little more than a pawn. Still, I followed my orders dutifully. It wasn't long before thunder began to roll, forebodingly, against the rotten stone walls. There was a presence in the air, one that I couldn't exactly place. The very stench of it turned my stomach. I kept my guard up throughout the entire game, but remained collected, so as not to alarm my young master. Keen as he was though, he too sensed that something was amiss.

"What is it, Sebastian?" he asked bitterly, having lost the game. A flash of violet lightening blinded us, followed quickly by its booming stalker. What was once a light drizzle, was now a furious downpour. The sound of renegade droplets echoed throughout the great hall, descending down the stone walls in hasty little rivers.

"I suspect it may just be vermin, my lord. Shall I take care of it?" I requested, in hopes that he would allow me the opportunity to do something other than stand idly at his side.

"No, stay here," he insisted, a worried furrow forming upon his brow. He was ill at ease, for good reason, it seemed. Each moment that passed, the storm only grew heavier. The air around us became so thick, it was difficult to breath. Had the young master still been alive, he likely would have suffocated due to his asthma.

I was a bit bemused when the young lord walked over to me and wrapped his slender arms tightly around my own. He didn't explain his reasons for behaving so oddly, he didn't need to. It wasn't my place to question him. I allowed him to cling to me as though his very life depended upon it. He glared up at me, almost expectantly.

"Something doesn't feel right, Sebastian," the boy grumbled, turning his gaze to a broken stain glass window, on which perched a raven, trying to find refuge from the rain.

"Indeed, I feel we are no longer alone here, my lord," I explained, keeping my demonic eyes Eastbound, where I sensed the intruder's presence. His grip on my arm tightened. Rather than order me to go off and eliminate the problem, as he usually would, he seemed to be intent on keeping me close to his side. He was instilled with a fear that he had never had as a human. It was almost as if he was being driven by a survival instinct. Quite honestly, it was a bit unsettling to see him so concerned with his own well being. Although, it was clear from the look on his face, that he was not comfortable with it himself.

"Do you suppose it's a human?" he asked, almost sheepishly.

"No. Whatever it is, it is not human," I explained, "I'm afraid I am going to have to eradicate the infestation, my lord." His angry glare told me that he wasn't fond of the idea of me leaving him here alone. I, however, didn't mind the idea. What did I have to gain out of this arrangement now?

Before my master could issue a command, the East wall came crashing down. I threw myself over my lord, shielding him from flying debris. When the dust finally cleared, in place of the destroyed wall, stood a being, cloaked in crimson, a golden crown atop his ginger head. I recognized his black eyes immediately. His angular, pallid face wore a sorrowful frown, as he took several small steps towards us. My young master coughed, trying to adjust his eyes to the foggy visage before him.

"Lord Berith. For what do we owe the pleasure of your arrival?" I remarked, rather snidely, as I took a leisurely stance in front of my master. The boy didn't move, only stared at the being before us; looking a bit horrified.

"I'm here to carry out an order directly from our Prince. Regrettably, your contract with this boy is void, "Sebastian Michaelis"," the scarlet clad demon said, his voice sinfully soft and calm. His contrite demeanour seemed to suggest he wasn't taking pleasure from his duties. Fortuitous, considering that I would likely not gain pleasure from mine either.

"What do you mean, "void"?" my young master demanded, craning his neck so that he could see Lord Berith clearly.

"For what purpose would one demon need to serve another demon? It is counter-productive and ridiculous. I'm afraid, as scriptor and notary of all contracts, I am forced to put an end to yours," Berith explained, taking another step forward. I could tell by his aura that he was just about to strike.

I swiftly moved to disable him, as he jolted towards me. His sunken eyes met mine as we collided. He smiled at me briefly, before disappearing in a flash of red. I turned to block an attack I knew would be coming from behind, but he wasn't there. I turned back around to find him floating just a couple feet away from me, holding two copper stakes in one hand and three in the other. With one, effortless toss, I found myself bound to the floor, two of the copper stakes piercing my hands. I tried with all my strength to pull myself from my magical restraints, but found it to be fruitless.

Berith came a bit closer and reinforced my bindings with two more stakes through each of my feet and one final stake through my head. I could no longer turn to face him, merely sense his presence. My master, who had remained fairly quiet up until this point, had suddenly realized that I was losing this fight; something he surely thought he would never see.

I felt Berith's aura leaving me and approaching my master. I continued to struggle against my restraints. The ground shook, pieces of the castle began to crumble, but still I remained bound. I knew I would not be released from Berith's spell until he, himself, released me. However, my young master was in danger and I simply couldn't allow harm to befall him. So, I continued to struggle.

"I'm dreadfully sorry, little one. There simply is no place in Hell for weak mortal hybrids. Your existence is an abomination. Thus, I must extinguish you," Berith murmured, sadly. I forced my head to turn as much as I could, the stake tearing through my flesh. All I could see was Berith's back and my master's feet, as he tried to back away from the approaching threat.

"Sebastian. . please. . help me. . ." I heard my young lord plea. I let out a terrible screech, one that was more primal than anything that had escaped my mouth in centuries. It was then, that Berith drew a long golden spear from the thick, spring air. It was a weapon I recognized all too well. I struggled against my restraints even more vigorously, but to no avail.

"Sebastian!" my lord screamed desperately, as Berith drew the spear back. Then, there was silence. A deafening silence unlike any that I had heard before. My lord fell to his knees, blood pooling around him. All I could do was watch as Berith took the spear from his chest and walked over to where I was imprisoned. My lord fell forward, onto the cold stone floor.

"You know what this is, don't you "Sebastian"?" Berith asked, his voice still laced with regret, as he stroked the blood soaked spear. I hardly even heard him, my focus remained fixed upon my lord's motionless body. I could still sense the slightest glimmer of life within him.

"It is a Vel; the very same Vel used by the divine Murugan. It contains the shakti of the Goddess Parvati, herself. A weapon created for the sole use of slaying demons. That is its one and only purpose. You cannot save him now," Berith explained, though I needed no introduction to the weapon he spoke of. With his point clearly made, he pulled the stakes out from my appendages.

I crawled, like a lost puppy, over to my dying master; turning him over so that I could see his face. Blood oozed from his lips. My sigil, once so bright in his beautiful azure eye, was beginning to fade. It was in that moment that I realized why he had been so afraid; he had sensed his own demise. His eyes began to lull, as if he were just about to fall into a well needed rest.

"I failed you, young lord. . . I'm sorry," I whispered, as his eyes closed. It was the first time I had uttered those words and actually meant them. I turned to look at Berith, but he was gone. As I turned back to gaze at my master's ethereal corpse, I discovered that he was no longer flesh and bone, but a mass of pale grey dust. I could still make out the shape of his face, it looked surprisingly peaceful.

A strong gust of wind burst through the great hall, taking Ciel Phantomhive with it. As the dove grey ash floated about in the air, the storm outside lifted and the sun began to shine. The colours of the stained glass danced across the room, illuminating Ciel as he rose higher. The raven, having returned after the fight, now sat on the window sill, singing its monotonous song.

I sat there, on the damp floor, still covered in Ciel's blood and remnants of ash. I was free once again. . . but at what cost?

A/N: That was pretty dark, yeah? No worries, this was the set-up for the actual story, which is a bit more light-hearted than this chapter was. I hope you enjoy the rest of the story. Thanks for reading, please review if you have the time. ^w^

Berith & the Vel: Baalberith (aka Berith) is an actual demon in popular demonology. He is said to be a grand pontiff and master of ceremonies, as well as a notary for pacts made between humans and demons. He has also been said to be the keeper of public archives in Hell. He has been described as a Duke with 26 legions of demons under him. The Vel is the sacred weapon of the Hindu deity, Murugan, used to slay the demon, Soorapadam.

Title: As I like to do, I have made the chapter titles thematic. This time around, the chapters will be represented by flowers. In Victorian England, in order to say things that could not, or should not be spoken, many people used flowers to communicate. This cryptic language was known as "the language of flowers." In the language of flowers, asphodels mean "my regrets follow you to the grave." Obviously, they are meant to represent Sebastian's feelings regarding his failure to protect Ciel.