JUDAS
A Kuroshitsuji fan fiction
By: Something Dysfunctional
Chapter Four
Disclaimer: Yana Toboso owns the characters and yes, if you can guess, the title belongs to Lady Gaga.
-dances across the room to "Born This Way"- YOU LOVE ME, YOU REALLY LOVE ME! That flame from the other day has burnt completely down and I am totally over it. Fwahaha. This chapter gives you a bit more insight on what is going on in the Phantomhive family. Oh, trust me, I will not stray away, my darlings. -grins-
Review nicely and happy reading!
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"Don't leave me, Sebastian. That's an order."
Ciel couldn't remember exactly how it came to be, nor why he said those fateful words. Swept up in strong arms, he was whisked to his room where Sebastian mumbled under his breath of "... must act quickly. Not much time left..." and "Have to get the young one changed." Ciel nearly purred, being so close to the large man, arms around his neck, not wanting to let go. Once inside the vast space, he was changed immediately into a sturdy pair of jeans, a turtle neck sweater of the darkest shade of royal blue and his black hiking boots. As he stood there in a daze, watching the man move around the room at break-neck speed, he couldn't help but wonder how Sebastian did it all.
'Wait... WHY is he doing this?'
Shaking his mind, the boy cleared his throat anxiously and tried to give the man his best stern look. "Sebastian. Why are we running around like this? And about my mother breaking down like that? I demand that you tell me what is happening here. I believe I am capable of handling this news," he said strongly, trying to sound collected and mature. Pausing in zipping up the child's book bag, Sebastian smirked coldly, standing up fully.
"Could you?"
"I believe so."
With a twist of lips, Sebastian opened his pocket watch and glanced out the window. "Not here yet. Very well, young Phantomhive, I will explain the best I possibly can without warping your little mind," Sebastian sighed, clicking the face shut and tucking it away in his pant's pocket. Ciel moved and sat down on his desk chair, eyes never straying from the black figure. "Go ahead," he breathed, the anticipation crawling over his skin.
"Ever heard of a saying "willing to do anything, even if it means selling your soul to the devil?"
5 years ago...
-
Vincent sat in his office late at night, in image of extreme heart-ache and overloaded work. He laid across the surface of his desk, hair ruffled and eyes closed. The faint trace of shadowed purple unlined the hollows of his eyes and his mouth was pinched. Folders upon folders lined around him. No sound was in the office, nor outside. It was after hours and the deep night had settled in. Blearily looking up, Vincent's heavy eyes landed on the clock near him and he groaned miserably. It was two in the morning. Faintly, he thought for a moment if Rachel had called him. He sat up, popping his back and flipped open his phone, seeing fourteen missed calls from his wife or from home.
However, there was one voice mail.
He pressed the phone to his ear, listening to the monotone voice of his inbox until the message played:
"... uhm... hey, Daddy... it's Ciel. I know that I'm not supposed to use the phone, uh, by myself, but I was trying to find out if you were coming home? I miss you... A LOT. You have to come home to play with me, okay? I'm, hmmm... I'm going to hang up. Come home soon okay? You made Mommy cry. But I took care of her, like you told me to. I love you?"
'Click.'
Sighing sadly, Vincent hung up the phone, letting his arm hand over the chair rest, hand dangling. His own seven year old son was taking care of his wife. He made the boy do so, to give him responsibility if his presence was missing from the house. Ever since he was picked on for having different color eyes, they went through extreme measures to protect their only child, for Rachel could not have them anymore. So, Vincent decided to have him tutored privately at home in the saftey of their large house. There, Ciel could run around freely with no one to bother him.
However it meant that the boy was growing up rather fast; mentally.
Glancing at all of his files, the man rubbed his face, exhausted. He knew that Funtom was running smoothly on the surface, but underneath, he was struggling with finances. Money was missing- where was it? How could he run a company with no investment? Not to mention, he had a feeling that he was being targeted by competition around the New York area. Infamous for their ties with the Italian mob, Vincent tried to keep his hired help away from underground offers and hired only people that came from a clean, nice background.
"I have to save this place for the good of my family and the employees... how can I when I can't even find money missing from the archives?," he growled, narrowing his dark eyes angrily. His heart swelled at the thought of his own little family being hassled by the mob, torn away, possibly even killed for Vincent's surrender of giving over the company that had been apart of his generation for years.
Of course the mob would hunt after him... his father and father before him tried hassling with them, doing odd jobs to get a high-up to meet ends with the Funtom Company. Vincent tried his best to weed out everything bad, but apparently... he was missing something.
"I wish... God, I wish I could do this the right way, but is there?," he whispered into the empty room, feeling lonely and afraid. "Can there be a way to do this?"
'Knock, knock, knock.'
Blinking, Vincent sat still in his chair, daring to breathe. Fingers twitching some, he slowly raised his right hand to his drawer, opened it with the gentle of tugs and reached in, pulling out a loaded .45 that he kept for protection. He hid it underneath his desk, trying to still the rapid beating of his heart. He could feel the sticky, clinging feeling of sweat on the back of his neck as the knocking continued once more. Swallowing hard, Vincent closed his eyes, remembering how to use his lungs.
"Come in," he announced clearly.
The doorknob twisted slowly, revealing a sliver of matching darkness in the door way.
"Forgive the intrusion, but I believe that... you have an appointment with me," came a low, alluring voice that sent shivers down the head of the Funtom company's back. Vincent narrowed his brow. "I don't believe I did. Not at this time, at any rate," he drew out slowly, the thumb of his hand pulling back the hammer of the .45, the safety off.
"Oh, but I think you have. Allow me to come in the room?"
"Of course," Vincent murmured, eying the shadowy figure.
Silently, fluidly, the person sat before Vincent, a man of a young age with a haunting smile. "You are in need of desperate help and I have heard your begging. Shall I offer you help?"
Vincent raised a brow, curious but wary. "I don't know what you mean-"
The smirk grew larger on the handsome face. "Oh? You know of the missing money, the slight decrease of trust in your workers here, the connection to the mafia that worries you and your family. I know of what you speak of, what you long to tie down."
"... and... and what could YOU offer me?"
"The complete annihilation of any ties to the Italian families, the wipe-out of mistrusting employees that are willing to sell you out and the company, and to retrieve the money so said employees have a decent paycheck for their families. Not to mention the advertising of the Phantomhive name to soar high. Higher than it ever has gone," cooed the mesmerizing voice, lulling Vincent into ideas, visions dancing upon his mind of what all could be accomplished. Shaking his head, he glared at the person. It all seemed easy.
A little TOO easy.
"And how, pray tell, do you mean to go around this?"
"Oh, sir, I have my ways. I just have two things to ask for. I promise you, that if you put complete faith into me, I will help you and never ask questions. I will protect your family."
"What are the requirements?"
"One, I shall be a personal assistant to you, seeing to your every need and whim, to watch over your family and the good intentions of your family name and company."
Vincent actually enjoyed the idea of an assistant, so willing to place his life and such in the way of Rachel and Ciel. "Very well," he nodded. "That sounds agreeable. But what of the second thing you wish?"
A low chuckle of the darkest of velvets rang in Vincent's ears.
"All I ask for is a very large part of your end of the bargain for this to work. In order for me to be around, twenty-four seven, all day, every day, nights and such, I need... how should I put it... a soul."
Fear crept up Vincent's throat like a bitter bile. He knew something was odd about this man. His hands were clammy and for a brief moment, he forgot of the gun in his hand. Gripping it tighter, he sat up in his chair, frowning. "A soul? Just what ARE you?"
Flashing eyes of hazel-red glinting almost maliciously.
"Let's just say... I'm one HELL of a demon..."
-
Ciel stared at Sebastian, unsure of what to think or say. His entire body froze, heavy and odd. "... what DID you mean by that, Sebastian?," he breathed. The man turned away from the window, his face expressionless.
"Have you not figured it out, young one? How do you think your Father managed to rise up from the ashes like a great phoenix, all aflame and golden? You think it was due to hard work? Well, partially, yes it was, but the rest was me. But now, it seems that someone is most unhappy of the situation and has caught on. You and your family are in grave danger. I am to protect you above the lives of your father and mother, as both requested of me," Sebastian rambled off, approaching the small figure of the child, who shrank back in his chair.
Why did Sebastian seem so much larger? Bigger?
"Wh-what?," Ciel stammered, eyes wide, the eye patch itching him so.
The man knelt before him, reaching up and untying the string, allowing the fabric to fall silently into his lap. "Because, Ciel Phantomhive, that soul your father traded for was not his own, nor your mother's. In fact, he did it behind her back because he knew that he was not strong enough or her to handle this. Everything from the age of seven until now, you have been groomed and raised the way almost royalty would be or a scholar with business smarts to be on your own.
What I am saying, is that I am in contract with you. Your soul is to be mine until the say you die.
Vincent knew that his life and Rachel's would end before your own. And who better to own the company, to keep the Phantomhive name alive and thriving than you? The most brilliant sapphire in the rough," Sebastian murmured, stroking back Ciel's bangs, revealing both eyes to him.
Sapphire and amethyst glared at him.
"I am a demon, in contract with you, to protect and obey every word you say."
Ciel bit down on the inside of his mouth, the rage within him overwhelming and brimming to the edge. "So. I am to believe this?," he hissed. Sebastian smirked and his eyes flashed red, startling the boy, who gasped and turned away, eyes wide as saucers. "You may or may not. But believe me when I say that I have no intention of leaving your side," he said lowly, standing up.
"But I can't believe Father would do that! I just CAN'T!"
"You need. For the reason he gave you that ring was to continue to the Phantomhive name. You are now head of the house."
"... where is my father?," Ciel breathed heavily, gripping the chair and breathing hard, eyes darting everywhere. "On his way here. Give it an hour and soon, this house will be under fire. Vincent will make his last stand, no doubt," the assistant murmured, stroking his chin in thought.
"I still refuse to listen to what you say! Out of my way!," Ciel shouted suddenly, leaping from his perch and out of the room, wanting his mother and a good explanation. His feet moved swiftly to the master bedroom, opening the door with a bang.
"MOTHER! Please listen to me- what? F-father?," he stumbled, hanging off the door.
Both Vincent and Rachel stood in the middle of the room, staring at each other. The light and dark gazes of their eyes reflected the emotion of what was going through their minds. Turning their heads, the golden blonde hair and inky obsidian tresses gleamed from the sunlight streaming behind them. They looked at their son, their only child and smiled sadly.
"My darling... I see you now know," Rachel breathed, tears oozing in her eyes.
"B-but I can't listen to any of that dribble! It's stuff and nonsense! Father, please explain to me that Sebastian is pulling my leg and that he is NOT a demon who owns my soul!," he yelled, hitting the door with his fist.
Vincent's gaze flickered to the floor then back to his son. "... he never lies, that Sebastian. It is apart of his duty as a aid to the Phantomhive family. He will never sully the name nor abuse it. I'm afraid that everything is true," he said heavily. Ciel backed away, gasping for air. His blood ran cold, feeling betrayed.
"You practically gave me away like prized cattle! You didn't even TELL me! and now Sebastian speaks of people coming to KILL you? Father, PLEASE! Say he's lying! SAY THIS ISN'T TRUE!," Ciel yowled, his heart jerking in odd movements. Rachel sobbed quietly, the tears running faster.
"I had no choice, Ciel. It was that or be killed immediately. I wanted nothing more than to protect you and your mother. And I sold it all practically to the devil himself."
"No, not the devil completely, sir," came the cool, silken reply from Sebastian, who stood behind Ciel like a raven shadow, bowing.
"Ah, Sebastian. Lovely timing. I believe that it is time for me to give you my final order," Vincent sighed unhappily and walked towards Ciel, who in return, shied away from him. Vincent pulled the boy to him, holding him tightly, picking up straight off the floor. The boy cried, clinging to him, the sight of his father breaking down tearing everything good in him to pieces. "Please... Father... Dad...," he moaned, burying his face in the crook of his father's shoulder.
"You will be the greatest legend of this family. You are more a man that I ever will be. If anything, I clung to Sebastian just to make sure you lived," Vincent whispered urgently, holding Ciel tighter. "That is my gift to you- the will and ability to LIVE, Ciel. It is not a punishment."
BANG!
Startled, the family jump sans Sebastian, who looked at the door blankly.
"Sir, I believe it has started."
Ciel dug his fingers into Vincent's shoulders and whipped his head around, staring at his mother, who stood silently, a figure in her finest white lace and satin. An angel if ever there existed any. He tore himself out of Vincent's arms and went to her, wanting the comfort of her softness and air of light perfume of violets and lavender. "Mother," he said oh-so quietly, arms around her waist. The faint tickling of her curling hair in his face as she bent forward to embrace him made Ciel feel little once more, alone and broken. "You... are going to make us proud. Remember, that I love you and I hope you carry it with you forever. No one can be without it. That is how much your father and I love you, my darling," she whispered, kissing both of his closed eyes.
"Let me see those eyes one more time," she asked, lifting his head.
BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG!
"I must urge you, madam, to hurry," Sebastian insisted lightly, still looking out the door.
Ciel opened his mis-matched eyes and stared deep into his own, mirroring his own emotions. Rachel never looked lovelier. "Mama?," he breathed, daring to have her leave his sight.
"Ah... those are the eyes I love. My sweetest bird, I love you so much," she murmured, smiling watery and brushed back his bangs. She turned him around and pushed him lightly to Sebastian.
"Wait-"
"Sebastian: here is my final order."
"Yes?"
Vincent took a breath, shuddering some. Rachel moved closer to her husband, clutching his arm. The two stood side by side, a picture of a couple whose dream was about to crumble and fade away. Then, opening his dark eyes, the man parted his lips:
"This is the ending of our contract and the beginning of a new for Ciel Phantomhive. I order you to take our son, protect him at any cost. You are now under his contract. And Sebastian? Do NOT try and help us. That is an order."
A sweeping bow, ignoring the crying protests from the young child, and a rumbling of the deepest of voices-
"Yes, my lord."
Ciel screamed at the pain blinding him through his violet eye, clutching at it as it burned. His entire being tingled and felt it was on fire. Everything burned... everything hurt... Ciel couldn't remember anything but a tunnel of darkness as it swallowed him and he fell fell fell fell...
-
'Even prophets forgave his crooked way.'
-
WTF, ya'll?
It sounds like an episode from "The Sopranos"! -lawls-
-the moonlight carries the message of Love.-
Later Days...!
-SD
