Sebastian straightened suddenly as if struck by vehement lightning, his widened, crimson eyes staring at his young master. Ciel's words were soft, hardly louder than the ruffle of wind on a raven's wings—but Sebastian had heard it well enough.

That sickly—most likely delirious—boy lying there burning with a fever had addressed him as his father.

The child in question squirmed slightly when the soothing, cool cloth disappeared from his face, whimpering in displeasure. Despite his complete astonishment, the demon continued to sponge his young lord's face and was quickly rewarded with a contented sigh from the earl. His cheeks were still flushed from the fever raging in his veins, and his breathing had not improved at all. Evidently, the child would be bedridden for a longer time than before. It was to be expected, considering that this ailment was the third to befall him recently. The situations his master had been thrust into recently seemed to cause his formerly recovered asthma to become prominent in the nobleman's life once again.

As his young master's breathing deepened and he fell more soundly into unconsciousness, Sebastian took his hand away from the boy's face. He looked utterly defenseless right then—more like a child than Sebastian had ever seen him. Vaguely, he remembered the ten-year-old who earnestly told him how honey caused cavities if consumed before bed and smiled. Back then, they were in a setup very close to this one, with Sebastian by a broken and battered child's beside. With even more coincidence, Ciel's cheek again was bandaged, a splotch of white paler than even his young master's snow-kissed skin.

However, diversely between the two occurrences was the element that was not aesthetic or tangible. The moments shared all those years ago compared to now differed in the relationship between the two parties involved. Sebastian, quite frankly, was irritated by the impossible child who had summoned him back then. Now, he watched the small boy peacefully sleeping with an emotion akin to fondness, as far as such a feeling could go when experienced by a demon.

For the majority of their time together, Sebastian had merely thought that Ciel viewed him as a tool, although he was an incredibly kind master compared to others he had served. The occurrence on the Campania, however, had given him reason to reconsider this assumption about the boy who had grown so reliant on him. The young Phantomhive had defended his servant, though the butler in question had blundered and ended up becoming impaled by a reaper's death scythe. He had even complimented his pitch black butler as he kneeled there, attempting to cope with the ghastly wound inflicted. Perhaps the experience of thinking the butler on whom he relied completely had perished gave the proud earl reason to appreciate that which he had. Sebastian shook the thought away with a smile, internally reprimanding himself for such a callous thought concerning his young master. He knew that Ciel appreciated him and his other servants—the most the incident could have caused was a renewed and strengthened sense of this sentiment.

Sebastian sat in a chair beside his young master's bed, suddenly feeling mentally fatigued. His scant emotions had been tried the entire time he had been with this boy insofar. Such a thing had not been accounted for by the demon, who thought becoming emotionally detached to his meal was impossible for someone—something—who had been in this trade for so long. His eyes closed, and Sebastian hoped he could catch a few minutes of luxurious sleep before his young master awoke, delirious with fever. But his mind, whirring busily at the young Phantomhive's words to him, was not in sympathy with his desires.

He understood Ciel's mindset, he truly did. Despite hating cats, his young lord was more like them than he realized. If one attempts to get too close without any reasonable cause, they would get scratched. But if one feeds a cat and takes care of it, eventually, they will allow a fond display of coddling. The child lying bedridden was exactly the same way. Sebastian believed that, despite all of Ciel's attempts to keep him distant, he had broken through the boy's decidedly feline defense mechanism. Though part of Ciel probably thought that Sebastian's smiles, his touches, and his concern were all demonically fake, not even an earl who appeared so cold and distant could resist the psychological effects.

For four years, Ciel had been taken care of by his diligent butler. At first, the demon had regarded the child as a human would an edible delicacy—but posing as a father figure and pretending to care had become less and less of an act as the years, mere seconds to Sebastian, passed by. He wouldn't be capable of discerning when the change had occurred. However, the demon knew that, somewhere along this journey, he went from being concerned about his dinner's edibility to worrying about the wellbeing of the boy in general. He nurtured him when he was ailed and protected him in his arms, even with the imminent—though uncommon—threat of death looming over him. He started to become concerned when his master seemed slightly preoccupied, which manifested particularly obviously after the incident with Baron Kelvin. The way Sebastian had kept his eyes on Ciel as he saw how dull and lifeless he had been didn't escape his own notice. The entire time, the demon had just wanted to get his young master away from all of the stimuli in his manor. Though such an experience hadn't been detrimental to his young master's health, Sebastian had found himself increasingly concerned about him. It wasn't a conscious emotion he forced himself to feel—it was instinctive.

This was not to say that he didn't look forward to consuming the soul promised by their contract. To the starving demon, such a meal would be a delicacy entirely unknown to him in the duration of his long life. But his admission to his young master about how he wouldn't mind remaining with him was not entirely a fallacy, either. This life was pleasing, despite having no dinner accommodations. He had a lovely face, an interesting human, and people who were rendered entirely awestricken at his inhuman abilities. Also, he had to appreciate that Earth had so much more to offer than Hell. The colors, the smells—they were all fantastic. No, he did not plan on going back to that inferno any time soon, and the Earl Ciel Phantomhive had proven to be more than suitable entertainment and distraction for a demon like himself.

Though, in truth, he could not say that Ciel was merely a distraction. No, a demon who was ordered not to lie could not say that.

It had been a while since Sebastian had spent so long acting as a human among humans. He was reminded of the times when he wasn't pretending or putting on a brilliant façade—when he was one of them.

Sebastian had had a different face, a different name, and a different personality back then. He had once been a young child, unwanted by the family he was born to, as his name—Cassius, he thought it was—suggested. After all, in a time where Rome was falling and eternal fires were burning, very little could be given to provide for another child. This sentiment was often expressed as resentment and bitterness, which manifested into physical violence that left a broken boy sobbing. Sometimes, as he fought for his life against the pain aching everywhere at once, he wondered if his father and mother would like him a bit more if he submitted to the tantalizing darkness and died. From the beginning of his pathetic human life, the boy grudgingly christened Cassius merely wanted to be loved and appreciated, not despised for his existence borne by the passion and lust he learned all humans possessed.

But his attempts to make his parents just slightly fond of him were futile. His only comfort was the God to whom his parents prayed devoutly, but eventually, he too lost faith in a being who was so cruel to let a child suffer as he was. He went to church to appease his parents—even if it did nothing to get into their favor—and pretended to pray to the supposedly all-forgiving God. He endured the lectures about the benevolence of the divine being, but at times, he could not keep his tears from falling into the wine he was offered in commemoration of Jesus. As he heard the tales of that particular man's love, Cassius could only despair silently. He could only think of how utterly phantasmagorical it would be to have someone love him so much—and how unfeasible such a thing seemed.

Though he never cared much to remember the passing of years that marked the time he had lived on Earth, Cassius had known that he was at least over ten years old. His brother whose life was cherished by his mother and father had celebrated a decade of life, so the young boy discarded and despised by is family must have been at least that old. However, no age could have prepared him for the fate his father decided for him. The sense of foreboding had been correct when he had been taken into a dark wood he had never seen before—yet, he had ignored it, foolishly placated by the uncharacteristically sweet words of the man who loathed him.

It was the man's decision that resulted in his son's meeting with a pale woman with long, golden hair and indigo eyes, both strange to the Roman boy who was only familiar with the dark coloring of his people. Once again, his instincts had screamed at him to flee from her, but Cassius had found himself transfixed by her warm smile—her warm embrace. Within moments, he informed her of his deepest desire, the tragic waterfall of his tears falling down his cheeks. By then, he was inconsolable. He merely nodded to all the warnings the beautiful woman offered, which made her soft smile widen into a malignant grin, unseen to the broken boy in her arms. The demon, he soon found out, was true to her word—in every sense.

Sebastian's eyes flew open, breaking him free of the dream fueled by musings gone astray. He found himself breathing heavily, as if running long distances had begun to affect him again. Years upon years had passed since he last reflected upon his past before becoming a demon. Perhaps, he thought in slight panic, the young master's vulnerability brought those memories back. Sebastian looked down at the child, still sleeping fitfully. He whimpered occasionally, tossing his head to and fro. With his mind half human and half demon, the butler could only remember feeling so ailed when he was sick and had no one to tend to him. A pale hand caressed Ciel's sweat-sodden forehead as it attempted to ease the disturbed sleep to which his master was victim.

"Sleep, Ciel," he whispered softly. "I will not allow you to be harmed."

The ashen-haired child sighed deeply, settling decidedly into a more comfortable slumber. A small, pink tongue darted out to wet cracked lips, and Sebastian was quick to pour water into the parched mouth. The demon was alarmed at the rate the fever was burning through Ciel's hydration, but he was more than happy to keep the child's supply in surplus.

The butler rose from his chair to wander aimlessly toward the window. The snow was still falling, and several inches had accumulated. His eyes automatically flickered back to the fevered boy whose fragile physique was swallowed by his large bed. Despite the concern softening the burgundy depths, black brows were drawn down over his eyes in frustration. He had never expected to become this attached to his charge. Four years ago, Sebastian would've laughed at any seer who foretold this outcome. Now, his past self would be laughing at him, wondering how he could shame himself in such an unsightly way.

The demon knew that this child's soul would be a feast like none other; but part of him—a more dominant part—could only yearn to let that infuriating boy live his natural lifespan before devouring his soul and landing him in the fiery pit he reluctantly called home. He rested his forehead against the chilled glass panes of the window, realizing that even his sense of temperature had changed since emerging from Hell.

"Sebastian?" a weak voice called from behind him, rousing him from his dark thoughts.

"Yes, young master?" the demon responded, regaining his composure in an instant as he returned to the child's side. From the concerned flicker in the blue eyes beleaguered by illness, the butler gauged that Ciel had been watching him for a while before addressing him.

"You seem tired," the child commented, his voice dreadfully feeble and grating in his throat.

"I cannot tire, my lord," Sebastian responded with a smile, skillfully evading the statement's true intent. "Either way, I must recommend being concerned for yourself rather than a lowly servant."

The Phantomhive snorted with derision, but the action triggered a bout of coughing. As the boy recovered with some water offered by his butler, he said, "Is that truly the position I've condemned you to in this household, Sebastian?"

"Young master, it is no condemnation. It is mere fact."

"After everything, you must realize you are much more than that. Don't be stupid."

Sebastian carefully appraised his young lord, red eyes narrowed. He saw the feverish blush still staining his porcelain cheeks and grasped that these were—at least somewhat—the words of the illness. With that in mind, the demon merely smiled softly and tucked the blankets more securely around the tiny form of his master.

But Sebastian realized that, though he was delirious with a high temperature, Ciel was being much more honest with his emotions in this state. It was underhanded, but a demon could not help but take advantage of the hand he was dealt, and Sebastian was no exception. There was always the risk of the young earl remembering and hiding his embarrassment with anger, but he had faced the child's wrath before. He didn't want Ciel to be angry with him, but sacrifice was sometimes necessary.

"Is that why you addressed me as 'Father' before, my lord?" Sebastian asked nonchalantly, giving the young earl more water.

Ciel blinked lethargically, seeming to have difficulty comprehending his butler's inquiry with his mind clouded by the sickness. After a minute, he slowly nodded, perfect white teeth worrying his lip. "But you look just like him, too—my father. . ."

"Yes, I did so to make you more comfortable with me, young master. Does it bother you?"

"No," Ciel sighed, "it's like he's still here. It's like I'm not all alone."

"Do you feel alone at times, my lord?"

"Yes. But only when you're not around."

Sebastian's eyes widened slightly; he was entirely touched by the child's admission. "May I sit with you, young master?" he asked, unsure whether or not Ciel wanted him closer. His inquisition was quelled when the boy nodded slightly, a movement that could hardly be registered by the human eye. The butler smiled his thanks before taking a seat by his little lord, who moved over to accommodate his space with difficulty.

"You find yourself comforted by my presence?" Sebastian asked as he absently changed the cold cloth draped over Ciel's forehead, his body leaning over the younger's.

The dark-haired boy nodded again, gaze dropping in what appeared to be embarrassment. The butler was quick to react, two fingers hooking under the delicate chin and gently lifting his face up.

"There is nothing to be ashamed of, Ciel." He pronounced the name—unfamiliar on his tongue—carefully, realizing the weight of using such a title. Surprisingly, the younger didn't even react to hearing his given name. "Even you, the Earl Phantomhive, are not infallible."

"I know," Ciel responded, pulling his jaw from Sebastian's grip. The movement caused him to wince, but he continued, "But how foolish I am to come to care for what will be my demise."

Sebastian smiled softly, sadly. "I know that the cards have played in a way that is unfavorable to you. I must say—with all the sincerity I can muster as a demon—how sorry I am that you are the victim of such an unfair game."

"So," Ciel, mismatched eyes downcast, said quietly, "you really were just trying to comfort me when you said you would remain with me until the end of my life."

"I wish I could say that that were the case." The butler squeezed his eyes shut. If the other weren't so intimately acquainted with the truth of this man's identity, he would assume that he was praying.

"What?" The boy reached a frail hand from underneath the covers to grip the cuff of his butler's jacket. The demon's palms sveltely slipped around the younger's hand so it was cradled in the cage of his white fingers. Even through the fabric, Sebastian could feel the fever raging within Ciel's veins. The touch brought him back to his senses, realizing that he was taking advantage of a child he was ordered to protect plagued by serious illness. The butler suddenly had the humility to feel ashamed and rose from his seat on the bed.

"Forget what I have said, my lord. My words were out of place, coming from a servant. Please, forgive me for disturbing your rest with such petty talk." The black-clad man bowed deeply, his hair swinging in front of his face to hide his eyes. Even in illness, Ciel would be too observant to miss any stray emotions lingering in their depths.

"Nonsense," Ciel responded sleepily, eyes fluttering rebelliously against their owner's wishes. "You needn't apologize for being honest with me, Sebastian. Surely, you know that."

The demon nearly smirked at his master's words, clearly remembering the times where the child's temper had boiled over due to the frankness of his tongue. But Sebastian wasn't being entirely fair. The Earl Phantomhive was largely kinder and more open-minded compared to other men of his standing. It was something Sebastian appreciated more than anything else in his current master. Though he required no luxuries like a bed to sleep in or days off as a nonhuman being, Ciel granted him them without a thought. This concept was merely second nature to the child, whose parents taught him etiquette from the moment he could comprehend.

The young Phantomhive in question beckoned him to his bedside with a lethargic finger, half-closed eyes focusing on him with difficulty. "I know that I am being silly," he began in a voice that sounded very far away, "but I wish for you to remain with me. The nightmares don't seem to haunt when you are at my side, Sebastian."

"Yes, my lord. It would be my honor."

"Also. . . ." Ciel's eyes finally managed to meet his and narrowed at the sight before them. "You needn't tell me the meaning of your words before, yet. I know that you're as puzzled by them as I am. I can't say I'm not enjoying you struggle with something for once."

Sebastian's smirk mirrored his master's as he retook his seat next to the child's tiny form. "I'm happy to be of service to my lord. I would be appalled if you didn't enjoy the show."

But the child's eyes were already closed, thick, black lashes kissing the pallor of his skin. His face was entirely relaxed, the sardonic smile gone from his features. Sebastian found himself wishing to see his master's face like this more often. Even in sleep, the boy's eyebrows were usually furrowed in subconscious agitation, a habit that would cause untimely creases in his perfect, unmarred skin, were he to grow old enough.

And whether or not he does is my decision.

Author's Note: Okay, so, I hope Sebastian's reaction wasn't too unrealistic. He's a demon, but I feel like this indecision and random conflicting feelings attacking him are really upsetting him. He's remembering stuff he's suppressed and suddenly, he remembers what it's like to be human.

What are your thoughts on a human Sebastian? Yay, or nay?