Arighty, so this was just a little thing that I wrote all at once this morning after finally watching season 2 (which we shall not speak of). We'll call it AU, but it is the real ending in my heart. Years after their contract came to it's conclusion and he was able to devour Ciel's soul, Sebastian is finally beginning to realize the magnitude of what he's done. Demons do not feel regret, but Sebastian finds that eternity is beginning to feel like a very long time indeed.
I do not own Black Butler, and as much as I wish he did, Sebastian does not call me mistress. All rights remain with their respective owners.
Enjoy, and 10000 points to whomever reviews!
Demons do not have regrets.
Regret requires emotions, and demons certainly do not have those. There was only hunger, the unceasing need to devour. Demons acted according to their natures and according to their contracts, in that order, to fulfill this end. What, then, could they ever regret?
The demon that had once been known as Sebastian Michaelis was beginning to understand this human concept that had always baffled him. Was it regret, this sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach he experienced whenever he saw a particular shade of vivid, cerulean blue? Was it regret, this despondency, this complete lack of interest in the souls of his newest contractors?
The demon had long since discarded the name Sebastian- it would do him no good here in the jungles of South America. Why, then, did he so desperately long to hear it? He had used a thousand names in a thousand languages and he had never before suffered from this... attachment.
It took the demon formerly known as Sebastian a long while to realize that it was not the name, but the voice which used to say it-regal, cold, demanding and yet impossibly dear-that he missed. It took him even longer to admit it.
He had been so sure that devouring Ciel's soul would be well worth all the trouble he had put into keep the Earl alive. And it was. Ciel's soul was the most delicious thing he had ever eaten. It had known pain, fear and darkness and yet it was pure. Warm. Perfect. With his master's vengeance achieved and the terms of their contract fulfilled, the demon who was once Sebastian was finally able to taste the soul, the perfect soul, which he had cultivated for years. It was everything he had imagined it would be. Ciel filled him up, occupying every darkened crevasse and forgotten corner of the vast echoing emptiness that was what demons had instead of souls. For years it had eased the hunger. Most souls could barely satisfy him for weeks. Then again, Ciel was many things, but never ordinary.
For that reason, the demon who was no longer Sebastian had not found it strange when he became easily annoyed with his new contractors for not thinking as Ciel had thought. Ciel had been a singularly interesting human; he had kept his demon butler entertained. Of course he missed the way that Ciel had manipulated the pieces on his board; if his new contractors had been as clever or as proud and strong as Ciel had been, not only would their souls be more scrumptious, the demon would not be bored.
Surely it was just boredom, he had thought, which had made him long to see the glint in a mismatched pair of sapphire eyes that promised retribution for the wrongs that had been heaped on them. And he had never longed to run his fingers through a mop of silken blue-black hair, because that would be sentiment and demons did not do sentiment.
As a new century rolled around, though, the demon who was not Sebastian was beginning to realize that it was Ciel himself, Ciel, the right honourable Earl Phantomhive, that he missed and not the challenge that the young noble had represented. Ciel, who was so small, yet had housed such monumental pride. Ciel, whose authority fit him like a glove, and he wielded it with masterful strokes and deadly accuracy. Ciel, who accepted the harsh lessons that life had to teach with gracious equanimity, never allowing it to burden his spirit. Ciel, of the cold eyes and false smiles and warm hands. Ciel, who was bright and alive. Ciel, whom he had destroyed, devoured entirely, just for a taste of that kind of purity.
The demon who was once Sebastian had occasionally wondered if the act of consuming Ciel's soul had somehow endowed him with some small part of the boys innate goodness, thereby infecting him with this emotion. He found he didn't really care.
Demons do not have regrets, because demons do not look forward.
Sebastian could see the future looming ahead with the heavy gray substantiality of storm clouds, and he knew now with a terrible, bitter certainty that he would face all the years of eternity alone.
Thanks for reading! This was actually my first ever (posted) fanfic, so I would very much appreciate it if you would tell me what you thought about it. Seriously. I'm talking undying gratitude. Please, oh pretty please, do review!