He was something born from darkness; that darkness being an illusion of itself down in Hell. He had also become unbearably… what was the human word for it…? Ah, yes… homesick. He couldn't recall what his actual form was since he had first begun his contract with Ciel Phantomhive either. He did not want to continue carrying the former Phantomhive master's face. He did not want to be the one that made Ciel bitter just by staring at him too long.

Baptized as Sebastian Michaelis for many years, he had also forgotten his actual name, as well. It should have been nothing but an annoyance, for he had other business for Ciel to attend to… but…

As Sebastian mounted the carriage for Ciel's trip to Winchester, an old visage of the last family he had ended up with fluttered through his mind. He shook it off just as he snapped the reins to send the horses on a slow trot.

No… only Ciel was his past, present and future now. Sebastian had no time to be troubling himself with old recollections. Besides… their contract had to be burned by now. He had devoured his former master's soul! Everything physically relating to that family was gone. There was nothing left but memories of them that would continually give him a headache.

In fact, he was actually receiving one at that moment-

The black stallions came to a sudden halt in the middle of the pathway. From within the carriage, Ciel Phantomhive cocked his head in confusion and proceeded to exit the stagecoach. "Really…!" He muttered as he hopped outside and walked around to see his butler. "Has he spotted another cat in the road or something…?" The boy paused when he spotted his demon butler clutching his head in what appeared to be pain.

Ciel flinched only slightly by the sight. It was quite peculiar seeing him in such a pitiful state. "What a disgrace to see a demon fall so low." He sighed, as his butler shot him a cold stare between the cracks of his fingers. "But then again, I'm not sure what lies beneath Hell; perhaps shame?"

"My Lord," Sebastian began, struggling to keep his voice leveled. "It is only but a minor problem. Now, may you please return back inside-" Ciel waved his words away as though they were irritating insects. "Don't trouble yourself, fool. I won't risk an injury due to your health dwindling."

Sebastian wordless lowered his hands from his face and gazed at him for a long time. Ciel did not break eye contact nor did he appear to be ready to. His butler finally smiled crookedly and turned his head. "Yes, my Lord." He stated coolly, lifting the reins back into his hands. "What am I to say to the Frenchman about the teacups?"

Ciel stepped back into the carriage. "Please." He rolled his exposed blue eye skyward. "Tell him to send a sample through the mail." The horses began to gallop again. "Besides," He added lazily. "I wasn't in the mood for the outdoors anyway." Behind the childish lilt, Sebastian could hear the hint of embarrassment laced in his words. The demon chuckled as he cracked the reins for the horsed to move faster. "Honestly, my Lord…" He murmured softly. "It's against a nobleman's code of conduct to fret over your servants…"

Ulquiorra stood at his window, staring out into the vast desert in silence. His eyelids were half lowered as his mind replayed the past events that occurred just recently.

The woman's friends… had somehow managed to break into Las Noches, but had surprisingly handled the situation better than they had expected. That boy… that shinigami…

The Cuatra bit down on his lower lip and his eyebrows furrowed as Ichigo's visage formed in his mind. That damn shinigami… had ruined everything; and without as much violence as was anticipated.

Ichijo had simply lost control. His inner Hollow had done mostly everything, this including the death of Zommari, Barragan, and even Yami… though this was achieved only because the Cero Espada had no time to unleash his Resurrección.

While the orange haired shinigami was sparring with a handful of Espada, Ulquiorra- who had been on the sidelines supposedly protecting Aizen- had took heed of Orihime's presence in the Hougyoku room. He knew she was rejecting it, he knew everything would have been over if she were to finish… but… he… just… couldn't find it in himself to stop her. Aizen would have had her captured and most likely killed for doing so.

Ulquiorra had gone against his wishes.

Even he was startled by how bold it was. But he was fully aware about what he would do if Aizen ever touched her. The Cuatra wouldn't be able to control himself. He would have brought the end to both of their lives. He didn't want to see her smile disappear…

So he let her go. Ulquiorra had watched her leave with her dear companions through Garganta, but his face hadn't given away any of the loneliness that threatened to reveal itself. Orihime had thrown him one last look before the gateway had closed. She was fighting against another emotion, as well…

Sadness.

And that was that last he had seen of her.

Ulquiorra sighed and pressed the palm of his hand against his face. In his room, this was the only time he could allow himself to show any weakness. Ever since that night with Orihime… alien emotions were constantly pestering him everyday. It was almost as if he was human… and that bothered him.

"Woman, what have you done to me…?" The Cuatra mumbled. "Are you happy now? You've thrown me in a pit of confusion. I… I…" He couldn't say it. He could never utter "hate" towards the big-breasted girl. Dammit…

All of a sudden, his right eye pulsed. Painfully. Ulquiorra could only twitch. Ugh…

Usually this happened to his left eye (seeing as he removed it to transfer information via mind particles), but his right?

Irritated by both his clouded thoughts and the pain in his eye, Ulquiorra swept into his personal bathroom to examine the problem. He went straight to the mirror and widened his right eye ever so slightly to see it properly. The Cuatra's eye watered when he did, but he ignored it and stared unblinkingly for a long time.

The green of his eye was changing into a vibrant pool of lavender. Ulquiorra blinked, but as soon as his eyelid was open again, his pupil now held a faint pentagram with the same shade as his newly altered iris.

But the fact that seemed to disturb him the most… was that it was eerily nostalgic to him. (It also clashed horribly with his green, white and black outlook.)

It took a while for the image of his new eye to be processed through his mind. When it did, Ulquiorra did the only thing that comforted him when he was by himself. He quietly sat on the floor of his bathroom, pulled his knees to his chest, buried his face between them and was silent for a good ten minutes.

He let out a soft, drawn out curse during this and proceeded to stand up again. He needed help from someone and Ulquiorra knew deep in his heart (did he even have one?) that he was not going to enjoy it.

"Szayel…" The Cuatra muttered as he exited out of his chambers.

Somewhere in Victorian England, a certain demon butler's left hand scorched and caused him to abruptly drop the tray of tea in his hands. Sebastian sighed and began to pick up the broken shards. Ciel was not going to be happy. (Was he ever nowadays?)

He glanced at the hand that bore the Faustian signature in his flesh. It was telling him something, but he had yet to realize what exactly that something was.

Sebastian Michaelis lifted his head a little when he heard a loud yell coming from Ciel's office…