Chapter 3

Many stressful hours of work and joyful squeals from Elizabeth passed and, as impossible as it seemed, Sebastian managed to keep his promise. No matter how many times Frances Middleford combed through the manor, Sebastian had made absolutely sure that neither her nor Elizabeth or her brother found out about the messes still left of the kitchen and garden.

Unfortunately, though, his exhausting efforts did not ease his headache. There were times where it was dull enough for the butler to ignore it completely, and then there were times it felt as though his skull could burst. Just as well, the tired feeling he had felt as he was rushing to prepare the manor hadn't subsided and the bruises from being slapped with Ciel's ring-hand hadn't faded at all, even though Sebastian had been known to heal from mere cuts and bruises in a matter of minutes.

But Sebastian didn't think on it too much. He had had his fair share of off-days before where wounds didn't heal magically in a matter of minutes, or he had been equally matched in a fight, if not nearly defeated. His human appearance was a troublesome form full of constant maintenance. Wounds healed slower, unless he bid otherwise; unlike his demon form, where almost any wound could heal automatically.

He couldn't help but sigh with relief as he watched the Middleford's pull out of the front drive. Sebastian didn't want to admit it to himself, but he was exhausted. His eyes felt heavy, his head felt foggy, and his legs felt like they had anchors strapped to them; his headache was also growing worse.

"I feel . . ." Sebastian thought to himself, "No . . . no, I'm not sick. Just a bit tired, that's all."

Later that evening, the butler prepared Ciel for bed; changing him out of his clothes, bathing him, and dressing him in a nightshirt, which had originally been older dress shirts from Sebastian; explaining why they were so large on the teen.

"I'm rather pleased with you, Sebastian." Ciel commented, "It must have taken a lot to pull that off."

"No, sir." Sebastian stated, "I merely fulfilled you order, as you wished."

"You did well today."

"Well, if I couldn't do this much for my young master, then what kind of butler would I be?"

"Sebastian . . ."

"Yes, sir?"

" . . . You're warm . . ."

Ciel rested a hand on his forehead and flinched, "Are you feeling alright?"

"I'm fine, sir. I have a slight headache and I'm rather tired, but I feel perfectly fine."

Ciel shook his head, "You feel like you're burning up."

"I feel fine, master, I assure you. I'm not afraid of a little hard work."

"Alright," Ciel said, "But take the rest of the night off and get some rest, just in case."

Sebastian gave a curt bow, "Yes, my lord."

The butler tucked Ciel into bed and exited his master's room.

Rest: something he normally didn't need, nor had it ever been given to him.

Sebastian tugged off one of his fine, white gloves and laid a hand on his forehead. He had to admit to himself that his temperature was higher than usual, but it wasn't so bad he was concerned.

"Perhaps it's a cold . . ." he said to himself, "Demons are susceptible to some common human illnesses. It's nothing to be concerned about."

At least that's what he told himself.