It was so cold, even as the hot blood seeped through his shirt.

It was cold, especially when Sebastian set him on the cold stone.

And the cold that he felt was not from the night, was impervious to the London fires around them, and left him numb in his skin. The cold came from his bones themselves, spreading from his core and leaving him frozen.

It was over. Angela… or Ash… or whatever the Angel was to be called was now dead. All that remained of the fallen angel was stone, forever merged in the bridge.

But that didn't matter. All that mattered now was that Sebastian finally was getting what he wanted. The price they had set those years ago was to be paid. He was to die today. There was no doubt about it.

Oh God…

Surely he didn't believe in God anymore, after all that he had suffered? His heart and body, broken and tainted black, black as ink. Sebastian had lifted him out of that drowning, suffocating darkness.

And now he was to return.

He had no regrets, but he thought of those close to him. Aberlain would be saddened by the way he was to die, by his own butler no less. His parents would definitely not have approved of his life after their deaths, (though they may have forgiven Sebastian, for after all, he had saved their only son, hadn't he?) spent in revenge, stress, and anger, fueled by hatred. Lady Elizabeth would be sobbing for days, and he had no doubt that Prince Soma would be as well. What would Madam Red say, Lau, or his three cheerful, loyal, oh-so-clumsy servants?

He tried not to think.

"Bocchan," he shivered when he heard the soft voice.

Sebastian. Sebastian, whom had served him so loyally, the demon, the one person whom Ciel had trusted with all his secrets… It was ironic, really, that he was to die by the hand of the being that he didn't know how to live without.

With his one sapphire eye, Ciel stared evenly into the molten gaze, the hungry crimson stare. He tried so hard to keep the mask in place, to not betray his fear, doubt, and accept his death.

No regrets.

That was a lie, he chuckled darkly.

"I don't want to die. I want to keep living, to the end!" He thought of his role as Hamlet, in that time that had seemed ages ago. The children had pleaded for him not to take his—or rather, Hamlet's- revenge. Was this really so different?

Too late now…

Raising his one arm, Sebastian placed his hand, which was surprisingly warm, upon Ciel's cheek.

"Bocchan," he said again, raising his fingers to the black eye patch that kept their contract hidden from him. Ciel felt it, biting angrily at his eye, and closed both as Sebastian struggled to-No, the perfect butler wouldn't have struggled- tug at the string with some difficulty. The eye patch fell. Ciel waited.

"Will it hurt?" he asked, the steadiness of his own voice surprising him. How cold it sounded, cutting the tense air between them like butter…

"A little bit. I will try to be as gentle as possible."

"No…" Ciel said, sounding surer then he thought, "Make it as painful as possible…"

"Yes… my lord…" Sebastian replied slowly, as if relishing the taste of the words that he would no longer be saying after this.

Ciel held his breath as Sebastian crept closer, his face closing in on his. The demon's black tousled locks tickled Ciel's cheek when their lips were mere inches apart, and it took all of the young boy's might to keep his composure. Solemnly, he stared into his butler's—soon to be ex-butler's- blood-red gaze, gathering what he could of the dignified air he once held.

Earl Phantomhive. It was all a joke, really. A trap. Curtain up, cue cast, good job everybody! Oh, the angel would get the last laugh, for Ciel was to die tonight. Wasn't that what he—or she-or whatever, dammit!—had wanted? For the Phantomhives to be purged of this world?

Sebastian's lips pressed against his, and the next thing he knew all he felt was pain. Then, it was all darkness. It wasn't the same darkness he'd known all those years ago, though. It was a different darkness, a welcoming one. Darkness filled with silence, and peace. A warm kind of darkness, as if a dreamless sleep he could not awaken from. He didn't know if anything was supposed to happen, but he couldn't call out to check.

Ciel didn't know just how long he drifting. It could've been months… years… or even mere hours, but when he felt a sudden change, it surprised him. He still couldn't tell if his eyes were open or closed, or even move a muscle, but he still felt it. A soft thud. He bumped against something. There were voices, one childish, one very, very, very familiar.

Then he felt a cold breeze and something bright against his darkness, strange in his comfortable world, but it was gone quickly, as if it had never been. Soon after that, the tumbling, the thudding, the movement, the voices, it all stopped. Everything ceased to exist again, and he wasn't sure if he felt happy or sad about that. Or, even, if he felt anything at all.

"Well, Bocchan…" he heard a voice drawl, "… it is time to awaken."

No.

That was impossible.

What?

Just when he thought he was free, that he was gone forever, he was sucked right back into the world by the same being whom had saved him, and sent him right back to the black from which he came.

"… Sebastian…" he said tentatively. What was this? The sunlight warming his skin, the soft breeze ruffling his hair, the contract-

The contract!

Ciel slapped his hand to his eye. It was still there. And Sebastian stared at him, that never-dying smirk sitting on his face, something of expectancy in his eyes.

"Yes, my lord?"