Prologue
If I speak with the tongues of men and of angels, but do not have love...I am nothing. -Corinthians 13:1-2
I have yet to understand this thought. Humans, arrogant as they are foolish, believe in love. But love is a concept, much like dreams and time, created by mortals to measure things they are unable to grasp.
Why anyone would willingly throw away their life for love is beyond me. The very idea is laughable, considering it is rarely reciprocated. But their unquestionable belief is an intriguing notion in its own way, and I would be satisfied to witness it first hand.
i.
The unconscious child lay on the floor of the gondola, unperturbed by the waters that rocked us. His stillness was unnerving, even for me. Occasionally his pulse slackened, the inaudible hum making me anxious. His fingers were quickly losing color, turning icy as the paddle touched the shores of the Île des Morts. He wasn't dead. No, he couldn't be. I did everything in my power to protect him from the deviant angel who ripped him from his family. He was alive. Barely breathing, perhaps, but still alive. There was a tinge of warmth that had yet to leave his body. I could feel it.
Tossing the paddle away, I lifted him from his slumber. His body clung to me as I carried him down the path, sheltering him from the soulless thieves that groveled as we walked past. It was common here, for the once-living to regain a touch of life, and spring back in the presence of a soul. Death does not cease a human's covetous ways. Even now, they were trying to replace their lost soul by stealing someone else's. Their indistinct, yet humanoid features contorted as they meekly grasped onto my trousers, pulling themselves up to my knees at a chance to touch him. Ignoring them, I slinked across the barren wasteland, their wretched moans amplified with each step.
The quietude of the land was unsettling, and although I had travelled here millions of times in the past, this time held a significant change. Any demonlings inhabiting the forest had either disappeared or gone into hiding, leaving nothing but the stillness of the night. The vanishing moon was fully exposed, as if someone had sucked up every cloud from the sky. A dense grove of cypress trees enshrouded us, warning me with their ominous presence. Mountainous cliffs stood exactly as they had for eternity, but in midst of the rubble and crumbling walls was a subtle sense of poignancy.
Everything must end here.
Gently sitting him on the bench, I stepped back and waited until he woke up. His head nodded off to the side, the way it did whenever he dozed at his office desk.
Chuckling, I flattened the creases in his shirt to make him look more presentable. After all, if I couldn't do this...
Brushing his locks aside, I lifted his chin to retie his silken bow. He stirred a bit, and in that shift, it dawned on me just how beautiful his frailty was.
The young master was like a porcelain doll: made to be admired, but never touched. Yet Jumeau himself could never fabricate a masterpiece like the little Lord. In stark contrast with his ivory skin, his dark hair framed his finely crafted face. The cerulean orbs that dominated his features glistened every way he turned. His figure was too delicate to be threatening, too small even for someone his age. And, while he hated being referred to as a child, the deeper he drifted in his slumber, the younger and otherworldly he seemed. Why, even cherubim could look upon him and feel envious at the sight.
His weary eyes fluttered open, glazed and transfixed on me. Slowly regaining consciousness, I felt his stare tracing me as he registered his surroundings. Against my better judgement, I allowed his liquid irises to envelop me. I drowned myself faster in the fragments of his readily available soul. He stifled a yawn, and I could only comfort him with a smile. The battle between angles and demons could exhaust anyone.
For once he was speechless, perhaps even nervous as he averted his gaze towards the horizon. I looked with him, ready to challenge whatever diverted his attention from me.
"This is it, isn't it?" he said in a voice that concealed any fear. I nodded in reply. I couldn't bring myself to say a word, not when doing so would shatter the illusion before me. All I wanted was to hear was his demanding little voice tell me what to do next.
The fact that he insisted on bravery until the end does not surprise me. It was expected of the earl to calmly embrace his death. Unlike others who pleaded for their lives, he honoured his end of the bargain. He threw himself into the darkness, blindly following a path that would eventually claim his end. Though my apathy for the others multiplied the longer I was with them, the child was certainly an exception. It was his unwavering determination that captured me to begin with.
"Until next time," he chimed, mockingly. Of course he was aware that this is the last time for our quips. This life was our second chance, and we have already pushed past the limits of our luck.
"Sebastian..." he called, before swiftly delving into himself to search for the words. He caught himself before he said the unnecessary, and his features morphed into a placid mask of indifference. Nonetheless, his emotions were transparent. A great part of him was just as disappointed. He would deny it to the very ends of the earth, but he too, did not want our games to end.
I found myself grinning, knowing what he was trying to hide from me. He won't say what he wishes to. The words are heavy on his lips, but he is much too proud to speak them. However, he doesn't have to. Overused expressions are meaningless to us, and have long lost their significance. I am pleased not by what he is trying to say, but because he is aware we are not solely defined by "love".
So, before he is able to say anything else, I inch closer and mold our lips together, feeling what little remained of my sanity slip away.
At first he was startled. His eyes widened, and my laughter is muffled by his irritated lips when his cheeks got hotter and turn an exquisite shade of pink. How I have yearned to touch him like this, the intimacy of our mundane tasks were never lost on me. I wanted to embrace him more, to cover every inch of his skin with flushed kisses as the days went by. Everything I am has been made for him, and in return, he is mine.
His fatigue became known as he used the last of his strength to protest. Untangling myself from him, he batted his lashes for the final time, and gaves me a reassuring nod. Then, he closed them, and in anticipation for my kill, went limp.
We made a covenant unlike any other.
And as promised, this was how it ends.
ii.
By the time the silver haired reaper arrived, the young master was asleep in my embrace. Cradling him, I listened intently to the rhythmic pulse of his heart. He hadn't moved since he collapsed onto me, his pale skin damp with perspiration, and I had begun to worry he caught a cold.
"There's still time," I informed Undertaker. "He's breathing."
"Barely," he replied, eyes flickering to the boy and back to me.
Undertaker had knowledge of everything from the beginning. He knew my life prior to being a demon, and from the memories he extracted from me, knew that I loved the boy's soul from our first life. He foresaw everything, and witnessed first hand how ensnarled we were in the other's lives, how addicted we had become.
So, while this island bordered on demon territory, I knew he would find us when the time came.
"I'm surprised his eyes aren't already gauged out," he mused, temporarily failing to grasp the seriousness of the situation, as a ravenous desire roused in the pit of my stomach. I was famished...
Prying my gaze from the boy, I manage to smirk at him.
"You really didn't really plan to do it, did you?" he wondered, shaking his head in disbelief. "This kind of self control is truly unparalleled! It's a wonder you haven't imploded yet!"
The sky erupted with his uncontainable laughter. While I normally tolerated his outbursts, by now my mind was clouded, my vision hindering me from brushing off his insult. My nails were already growing at a steady pace, snagging into my coat sleeves as they shaped into the likeness of a bird's talons.
"Well, then..." he sighed when I didn't share in his humour. Kneeling in front of us, he gestured for me to transfer the boy into his arms.
"I suppose you can hand him over and we can go our separate ways."
It took every ounce of self control to restrain myself from slapping hands away. Did he really believe I would let him go so easily? Once upon a time, I walked out of his life. I will not do so again.
"That won't do. As you can tell, I am currently...transforming," Whilst saying so, I'm reminded of my discomfort as tiny plumules sprouted at the nape of my neck, puncturing my flesh like needles. Briefly glancing down, I noticed my skin shriveling up, shedding to reveal the pigmented layer of graphite.
"If I stay like this, I will persistently follow him until I consume his soul. There is no where you can hide him from me. This is what was stated when we first made the contract."
"I don't understand..." He fell silent, shooting me an inquisiting glance.
"Please," I breathed, sangria eyes flashing, "Make me human"
"Are you a fool?"
"Even with my powers, I cannot make myself into a human. But you... you are a Death God. Your name has God in it. Your kinda have interacted with mortals longer than demons have. There must be something, a method of some sort, anything..."
"Don't be ridiculous! What you're asking for is impossible. No demon has ever wanted to become human."
"If there is a chance we may live normally, then I will. Live in a world without him? Have a sunrise without him? I'd cease my own existence before allowing that to happen."
"But, why? Why not make the earl a demon if you so wish to continue on like this? You have the power to do that, don't you?" Undertaker asked carefully.
"And I thought I was the demon," I mused. "How could you suggest such a selfish act? How could I turn the master into a demon without his consent?"
"Then ask him for it-"
"Ask him to become something as vile and repulsive as myself? Force him to go through the pain of transformation, while I sit helplessly and watch him become a monster, just so I may live as I please? Why should he suffer for my actions? For my decisions? Why would I ever want that for him?"
"He'd still be alive, at least."
Inhaling, I closed my eyes and carefully explained, "The boy is mine. Every fiber of my being is made for him. He must stay exactly as he is now. I will not enslave him to a life of immortality. Not if it means he loses his soul along with his humanity."
Undertaker paused again, contemplating this new information. Then, when enough silence passed, and he scrutinized me to know I was unmoving, he tilted his top hat over his eyes and sighed.
"There may be a way..."
"Anything. I will do anything. As long as it means that I am never without him."
"It hasn't been done before and I can't guarantee it will work. You are aware how this will most likely end, yes?"
I nodded as he swiftly rotated on his heel and motioned for us to go. Hurriedly getting on my feet, I followed him.
"Gaining a soul isn't as simple as it seems, and it will no doubt be painful for you," he warned over his shoulder, "but considering you were once an angel...you must have possessed one at some point. Although you're a demon, your soul still remains somewhere buried within you. That's why you're able to feel increments of human emotion, albeit the malevolent ones. We just need to reawaken it and potentially extract all immortality from you."
Pain was something I was already accustomed to. Surely there was nothing Undertaker could do to me that I was incapable of handling. And even if I underestimated the torment, I would willingly put myself through it at the chance of letting him live. The boy has given me something I never dreamed of wanting. He has shown me what I have been missing in the monotonous life I had accepted. He changed me.
To be able to feel the things he feels, I will become human.
"We'll kill the demon in you, and make you mortal. Though, I can't say exactly how it might affect you overall."
"That's quite all right," I assured him.
I have been nothing for far too long. I could never go back to that again.
A.N. So, this was sorta originally an alternative ending to Promise to the Empty Sky (look at me, shamelessly advertising). It wrapped up all of Sebastian's development nicely, but completely ignored Ciel's. Buuuuut I thought that making a fanfic from my other fanfic was presumptuous of me so… this is meant to be read as a stand alone.
Note: For those who think "Sebastian would never become human or die for Ciel's sake" read like the first chapter of Promise because his character's motives are better explained (I hope). I tried to explain it without overloading you with too much info. So yeah, sorry if it still doesn't make sense. I should be back with chapter two within the week.
