Chapter 7

A/N: Hey, thanks for the reviews! I'm glad you guys like this! This chapter is entirely from Ciel's POV.

I waited to wake up from the nightmare.

It didn't happen, unfortunately. Days passed and the nightmare remained. I waited for Blackwell Manor to fade away, for Sir Charles, Marcellus, and the horror-hounds to dissipate into mist, but they remained. Nothing I did to wake myself up was effective, and slowly, I had to accept that no, I wasn't just going to wake up from this nightmarish situation, and yes, I might have to play along.

Fortunately, my days had a pattern, and patterns always reassured me. Marcellus would wake me with tea, just like Sebastian did, and then he would help me dress. By the second day I was pulling on my own clothes and learning how to fasten them. I did not like having Marcellus dress me, so I was willing to do that little bit on my own. Once I was dressed, Marcellus escorted me downstairs to the breakfast table, where Sir Charles would greet me and we would have breakfast. After breakfast, Sir Charles saw to the daily work his business required while Marcellus took me back to my room. On the second day I learned that I had two rooms—a door in the bedroom wall opened to the next room, which had been set up as a nursery for me.

I protested, of course. "I am far too old for a nursery!" I complained.

"Sir Charles thought that you might want a room to play in," Marcellus explained, opening the door to show me the room. "For rainy days, he said."

I scowled and fought down an urge to maim him. "I don't play."

Marcellus blinked. "Oh, I'm sure you do, young master. Weren't there toys in your manor?"

I wasn't going to ask how he knew that. "My family's business is toys," I reminded him. "Those are the samples sent to me for review."

"But you still play with them, don't you?"

"I have to be sure they work," I answered. "I don't play."

Marcellus nodded. "Well, if you don't wish to play with them, I won't force you. At the very least, however, would you give me your professional opinion of them? Sir Charles told me to purchase the usual toys for a child your age, but he didn't tell me what they were, so I guessed. Did I guess correctly?"

"A store clerk could have helped with that," I commented. "Didn't you ask?"

"I wasn't aware they could do that," he confessed.

He was hopeless. "How long have you been playing human?"

He opened his mouth to answer, but then he paused. "I often lose track of time, young master. I don't know."

He really was hopeless. "All right, if you really want my opinion, I'll give it to you, but remember that you asked for it."

I was expecting a lot of gaudy trash, but instead I found high-quality items that would appeal to children rather than repel them. There were shelves covering the walls and on the shelves I saw enough toys to open a modest shop. There were several jigsaw puzzles, three different building sets, stuffed animals, a large set of toy soldiers complete with cavalry and infantry, a Noah's ark with paired animals, a toy menagerie, playing cards featuring kings and queens of England, a toy theatre with puppets, several clockwork toys, a chess and draughts set, several board games (there were three of my favorites with them), and a toy train with plenty of track and other items to put around it. Aside from all that, there was a shelf full of books, all of them geared toward someone in his early teens. In the far corner I saw a magic lantern, along with two cases holding a zoetrope and stereoscope, respectively. I recognized the stereoscope as identical to the one that had been sent to me. Next to the magic lantern stand was a phonograph and two stacks of records. A stand in the corner held art supplies. For outside amusement, there were kites, a cricket set, a croquet set, items for playing badminton and lawn tennis, a lawn bowling set, and an archery set. Any child trapped here would not lack for amusement. I, however, would be bored stiff.

"What do you think?" Marcellus asked after I looked around the room and examined a few things.

"You did very well," I admitted. "Your guesses were quite accurate."

He bowed. "I am glad, young master."

That day I didn't play with anything, but by the next day I was so bored during Sir Charles' work time that I worked on one of the jigsaw puzzles, and the day after that I played a game of solitaire, and the day after that…well, I could at least amuse myself. The phonograph was a godsend since music was always good to have. Most times I spent in my room I played records since music often made the time go faster.

By ten o'clock, Sir Charles finished his work for the morning and he declared it was time for my lessons. I had been kidnapped and was being kept prisoner by this man, and when he first mentioned lessons I refused. I wasn't about to be subjected to the tedium of schoolroom lessons while a prisoner, but the two of them insisted I accompany them to the library so I could see the materials they had ready for me.

"I don't see the point," I protested as they escorted me to the library. "I'm not about to suffer through any lessons!"

"I always enjoyed my lessons when I was a boy, Ciel," Sir Charles told me, which did nothing to ameliorate my poor opinion of his sanity. On the contrary, that statement only confirmed it.

The library was just as I expected it: full of books. On a table were the things I assumed to be for my use: the latest textbooks (I was pleased to note that they were for older students), writing paper, pens, ink, pencils, a globe, an abacus, a microscope, sketch paper and charcoal, and a violin. It seemed they were planning every lesson to take place in the one room.

"What shall we start with first?" Sir Charles asked as I stared at everything.

"I don't intend to start," I answered. "I don't want to waste my time."

"What else do you have to do, young master?" Marcellus asked.

Finding a way out of here, finding out what annoys you, keeping myself sane... I didn't say anything, but my list of things to do started with those items.

"If you have to think that much, then you have an abundant supply of free time, some of which can be devoted to your education," Sir Charles said firmly. "Why don't you choose a subject to start with and we'll go from there?"

"No," I refused. "You may be able to keep me here, but you can't force me to do anything."

Sir Charles was surprised at being refused outright, but Marcellus stepped in. "Young master, I'm sure you'll come to enjoy your lessons, but you must start on them first in order to enjoy them." The tone of his voice matched the tone he'd used when he'd told me that my life could become very uncomfortable.

I knew that I didn't dare put him to the test. He was under Sir Charles' orders, not mine, and unless he was expressly forbidden to do...certain things, then he just might do them on his own to make me comply with Sir Charles' wishes. If Sebastian tried to make me do something I didn't want to do, then I could order him to drop the subject, but I couldn't do that with Marcellus. "Oh, very well!" I snapped. "Just don't expect me to show any enthusiasm."

I was to find out shortly that Sir Charles was a born teacher and he could make even the most tedious of lessons interesting. We worked our way through history, grammar, writing, and literature in the morning, stopped for lunch, and in the afternoon we worked on mathematics, science, Latin, art, and music. I thanked any powers that were for the fact that I was already fluent in French, because that spared me from having to study a modern language. I was positive that I couldn't take sitting at a table reading through a French textbook that read, le fils, the son, la fille, the daughter, and so on. Whoever wrote school textbooks should be forced to read them every night for the rest of their lives for inflicting such torture upon students.

Once lessons were over, Sir Charles insisted on my going out into the garden for some sun and fresh air. As always, the gray ones were romping about out there and I spent a great deal of time looking for sticks to throw so they wouldn't bother me. I still didn't like them and I wished that Sir Charles would order Marcellus to send them away, but he didn't. I think that he secretly he liked having them around because whenever one of them showed up, I'd head for Sir Charles' side. I couldn't stand being near the gray ones and if they decided to bite someone, I wanted it to be Sir Charles instead of me. On my fourth day at Blackwell, Sir Charles showed me the horse he'd bought for me. It was a bay gelding with good lines, nothing really remarkable, but he insisted that we go riding before tea. Once again, after a short argument, Marcellus stepped in to make sure I complied.

I really, truly hated that demon. Eternal damnation was too good for him!

After tea, I was once again left to my own devices while Sir Charles answered letters that had come in the afternoon post. Usually by this point I was ready to be on my own, and usually more than ready for a chance to lie down for a while. Marcellus said that my bronchitis was largely gone, but I would still be tired from the hard work of recuperating. Sometimes during my resting periods I would nap, other times I would read. Most often, though, I would try to sneak out of my room in order to explore the house. Each time I opened my door, though, a gray one would be there, standing guard. Seeing that waiting outside, I always chose to stay in my room. It seemed safer that way.

Dinner usually came after my rest. After dinner, Sir Charles would have me sit with him in the parlor, and he would talk with me or bring out a game we could play together. Sometimes, he told me stories about his wife and how happy they were together. Once he even showed me a picture of her, and I had to admit that she and I did look a lot alike. It would be easy for someone suffering from delusions to believe that she and I were related if they had that kind of proof. Around nine o'clock Marcellus would take me upstairs to help me get ready for bed, and by nine thirty Sir Charles would come up to say good night. Most often, he would read to me until I fell asleep. The next morning, the whole process would start all over again.

I lost track of the days. There was little to distinguish one day from another there, and I soon lost count of how long I'd been there. All I saw was the house, the grounds outside, Marcellus, Sir Charles, and the gray ones. There were no calendars in the house, and whenever I tried to sit down and mark out the days, I would run into the fact that I had no idea just how long I'd been there. Every day was like the one before it.

I began to wake up during the night, gasping. It was not my asthma, but it was anxiety. I knew the difference. In my first few months after the deaths of my tormenters, I would wake up at night the same way, frightened out of my mind and convinced that I was still in the cage they'd kept me in. It always took a few minutes for me to regain my senses then, but now when I woke up, I knew where I was. I knew what was going on, but that didn't make me feel better.

I wondered what was taking Sebastian so long to come and find me. He had been injured, yes, but didn't demons heal quickly?

The question stayed on my mind as I let Marcellus and Sir Charles steer me through the routine they'd set up for me. One afternoon, my mind was so filled with it that I wasn't tired when it came time for my rest. I didn't want to read or fuss with anything in the so-called nursery, and I wasn't in need of a nap. What I wanted to do was explore the house, but the gray ones...Hmm. I opened my door and as usual, one of the beasts was sitting there. He sat up and looked at me, for a second I thought that if he'd been a real dog, his tail would have wagged.

"I don't care if Marcellus put you there to make sure I stayed in my room," I told it. "I want to look around the house."

It tilted its head to the side and looked at me. I took a cautious step into the hall and all it did was stare at me. Another step and it still stared.

"Good boy," I said, hoping that I wouldn't provoke it into attacking me.

I got the shock of my life when the thing approached me and butted its head under my hand, asking to be petted. I couldn't believe it. The thing really was just like a dog! It stretched the bounds of credulity, but there it was. I headed off down the hall and the thing trotted along behind me, seemingly content to follow me. I could remember my own dog following me around like that when I was little, and I told myself to just think it was a big dog and I would be fine.

I wandered the halls and looked into rooms and closets, not knowing why. I was restless and I wanted to feel as if I was doing something, even if it was pointless. I wandered the upstairs, the attics, wandered the main floor, and then descended to the lower levels. I found the kitchen, where Marcellus was busy preparing supper. He stared at me when I opened the door and entered the kitchen.

"Why, hello, young master," he said, setting aside what he was mixing and wiping his hands on his apron. "What are you doing down here? Usually you're up in your room resting." He looked at the gray one following me as if he wished to ask it what it thought it was doing, letting me out of my room and following me around the house.

"I wanted to explore the house," I told him. "I left my room and he's been following me the whole time."

"Ah," he said. "Well, have your explorations proved amusing?"

"Not really," I said, looking at the cake on the table. "It's just a house, after all. Is that for tonight's dessert?"

"Yes, it is. It's a white Savoy cake," he said as I moved closer to examine it. It was a gorgeous cake covered in white icing and crowned with strawberries. I was just about to put out a hand to get a taste of icing when he picked it up and moved it to a high shelf. "This is for after dinner, young master."

"Tch, you're as bad as Sebastian."

"I'll take that as a compliment," he said evenly with a little smile.

I'd only wanted a taste! Was that so bad? "Hmph. All right, then. I'll see you at dinner."

"Back to exploring?"

"What else is there to do?" I muttered as I left.

I didn't hear Marcellus say anything as I left and I welcomed his silence. There were times when I suspected him of reading my mind, and the further away from him I was, the better I felt. I wandered down the hall and was about to turn back when I saw a set of narrow stairs leading down. Figuring I might as well, I headed down, my gray shadow right behind me. At the bottom of the stairs were the cellars, most likely root and wine cellars and storage rooms. I opened a few doors and looked in, but I couldn't see much with only the lights in the hallways. I was on the verge of turning around and going back upstairs when I saw light shining from the bottom crack of a door. Curious, I headed toward it and opened it.

At first, my brain refused to believe what my eyes were seeing. What was he doing here; why was he just lying there? A second later I decided that it didn't matter as I ran across the room to the bed. "Sebastian!" I shouted, grabbing his shoulder and shaking him. "Wake up!"

His eyes opened immediately and I saw that they were shining with the demon-light that only surfaced when allowing his demon nature to show through. He turned and looked at me. "Bocchan?"

"Get up!" I commanded. "We have to get out of here!"

His head and shoulders lifted, but then he flopped back into the pillows and sighed. "I am sorry, Bocchan. I wish I could obey you."

"Why can't you?" It was strange to see Sebastian just lying there.

"I was injured very badly," Sebastian answered. "It is taking me quite some time to recover."

I looked at him and only then I saw that his face and neck were mottled with bruises and there were dark shadows under his eyes. Nervous, I grasped his arm. "Will you be all right?"

He hissed in pain and croaked something that sounded like a curse, but it didn't sound like a word from any earthly language. "Ah! Please, young master, don't hold my arm in that spot. My shoulder would be much better, thank you."

I released his arm and stared at him. "I hurt you? I hurt you?" It was unbelievable. He was a demon and I was just a human! I shouldn't have been able to hurt him just by holding his arm! "What happened?"

"From what Marcellus has told me, I have several broken bones, and two of them are in my arms," he explained. "My bones were broken during my very short battle with the gray ones."

Belatedly I remembered their attack and shuddered. "Marcellus? Sebastian, there's something I don't understand. Why did Marcellus bring you here?" Why hadn't he just left him at the Phantomhive manor? Why bring him to the place where I was?

"I don't know," he admitted, shaking his head. "I've asked, of course, but he told me that he has his reasons, which is really no answer at all."

"So he brought you here and just put you in this room to rot?"

"Actually, no," he corrected. "I'm in this room to rest. Demons find the silence and darkness in a room like this most restful. In addition to providing me with a place to rest, Marcellus has given me medicines to help me heal and...well, he's been taking care of me. He's even performing a...procedure, if you will, that will shorten my recovery time. Otherwise, with injuries like these, it would take me at least three years to recover."

I must have looked shocked.

"Certain demon injuries heal at a different rate from human ones. I have a good many internal injuries in addition to the broken bones and bruises. Since such injuries are rare in a demon, so they take longer to heal. Our bodies heal such injuries slowly so they can be sure they're healing correctly," he explained. "Now, enough about me, young master. I'll be fine. What I want to know is how you are. Are you eating? Is your bronchitis better? Are you getting enough sleep?"

"Yes to all three," I told him. "Marcellus is a cook almost equal to you, my bronchitis is practically gone, I go to bed around nine-thirty and sometimes in the afternoons I have a nap. Physically, I'm fine."

"Ah," Sebastian said, relaxing some. "And mentally?"

"That's up to question," I said flatly. "I want to go home. Sir Charles is convinced I'm his son."

He stared at me. "How so?"

I explained, telling Sebastian all that Sir Charles had told me.

"That's interesting," Sebastian said. "So he contracted with Marcellus to obtain you? Hmm."

"The man is mad," I said, pacing. I nearly bashed into the gray one, but after a moment he stopped trying to follow me and moved to the far corner. What I'd thought was just a bundle of something in the corner moved as the gray one approached it, and I realized that it was another gray one. "How long has that thing been there?"

"He's always there. Either that, or an identical one comes when I'm asleep to spell him for a while. I don't know. When I first woke I kept expecting him to kill me, but Marcellus told me that he's to watch me to make sure I'm all right. I try to think of him like a nurse-watchdog."

I looked at the two creatures in the corner. "I think you've been down here too long. They don't resemble nurses."

"Well, humans have nurses to watch patients, so I went for the closest analogy I could think of," he said. "I think a cat would be better company, but I wouldn't wish to subject a cat to a gray one's company. Ordinary dogs are enough of an irritant for cats; supernatural ones would be even worse."

"Are they really dogs?" I asked.

"Well, in demeanor and behavior, yes," Sebastian said. "They have a pack conscience, but their appearance...hmm. I think that they're the remnants of a necromancer's experiment from long ago. He tried to make pack animals that would do his bidding, but he used human bones as their base, and they ended up that way. With mortal remains for their bodies and supernatural consciousnesses, they're trapped between worlds."

"Is that why they're more powerful than demons?" I asked. If they'd put Sebastian down like this, then they had to be more powerful.

"Yes."

Such a calm statement told me that he didn't like to admit that there were creatures out there stronger than demons. "I see. How long is it before you think you can walk?"

He shook his head. "I don't know, Bocchan. I can't sit up without something behind me to support me; I have no idea how long it will be before I can stand unaided, much less walk. Months, probably."

"Months?"

"Unfortunately."

"It will take even longer than that if a certain young master doesn't allow the patient to rest," I heard Marcellus say behind me.

I whirled to see him standing in the doorway, holding a tray. "Where did you come from?" I hadn't heard anything, and it looked as if Sebastian had had no idea that Marcellus was on his way.

"Rumor has it that I came from the kitchen," Marcellus chuckled. "Now, what are you doing down here, young master?"

"I was exploring," I said. "I didn't know you had Sebastian down here. Why is that, by the way?"

Marcellus smiled. "Oh, I have my reasons, young master."

"Which are?" I pressed.

He turned and smiled at me. "What an inquisitive young master you are! I won't tell you each reason I had for bringing him here, but I will tell you the most practical one. The servants at the Phantomhive estate are not equipped nor do they have the knowledge they need to heal a demon. Sebastian's recovery will be much more comfortable here. I was reluctant to have Sebastian hurt in the first place, so I at least owe him some healing." So saying, he sat down on the bed and helped Sebastian to sit up and lean against him. "Young master, would you be so kind as to hand me the cup on the tray?"

"Milk?" I said in surprise when I saw what the cup held. I handed it over, but for some reason I couldn't envision Sebastian enjoying a cup of milk.

"Medicines for pain are in the milk," Marcellus explained. "Here, Sebastian. Drink."

I expected him to refuse the milk, but he let Marcellus put the cup to his lips and he drank the milk without an argument. He must have been in a great deal of pain to accept medicines from an enemy.

"Very good," Marcellus said, handing me the empty cup and helping Sebastian lie prone. He pulled back the covers and I saw that Sebastian was wearing the absolute minimum for modesty. I tried to look away to give him some modicum of privacy, but before I could turn my head I saw ugly crescent-shaped bruises all over his body.

"What are those?" I gasped.

"Marks from the gray ones' bites," Marcellus said, slipping off his gloves and running his fingers over one of the bites. "How do they feel, Sebastian? Any pain?" His fingers pressed down on one bite and Sebastian twitched.

"Ah! Well, there's pain if you do that!" Sebastian snapped. "That hurt!"

"Was there burning pain, or just the pain from my fingers?"

"Just your fingers prodding me." Sebastian gave him a pointed look, but Marcellus ignored him and continued to do the same thing to each bite. It was surprising to hear Sebastian crying out in pain, but I figured that being able to complain about it gave him some small amount of comfort. I wasn't about to hold it against him, either.

"That's good," Marcellus said after prodding at the last bite. "There's no more poison left in the bites; all that's left of them to heal is the bruising. You won't need any more antiseptic on them. Very good."

"What are you doing now?" I asked as he proceeded to run his hands over Sebastian's chest and limbs.

"Checking the breaks," he said distractedly. "The bones have straightened and begun to knit, that's good. What's this?" he stopped and carefully dragged his fingers over the arm I'd grasped. "Sebastian, there's a sign of impact here. Have you knocked something with your arm? You weren't trying to get up, were you?"

"I think that's my fault," I told him. "You see, I forgot about the broken bones and grabbed his arm."

"I do see," Marcellus said, covering Sebastian again with the blanket and helping him sit up and lean against him.

"No!" Sebastian said as Marcellus began to roll up his left sleeve.

Marcellus looked at him, amused. "Whyever not?"

"Not in front of the young master," Sebastian said firmly.

Marcellus glanced at me. "Would it frighten him?"

"Would what frighten me?" I asked.

"Feeding him," Marcellus said matter-of-factly.

That confused me. "Don't you eat souls?"

"We demons have another way of feeding others of our kind," Marcellus said. "Feeding him this way will help him recover more quickly than just rest and medicines."

What the devil was he waiting for, then? If it helped Sebastian heal...

"Seeing it might frighten or disgust you, young master," Sebastian warned. "It might be better if you waited in the hallway."

"Oh, just get on with it," I ordered. "I'm not about to faint or run away no matter what you do."

Sebastian looked as if he wished I had left, and he watched bleakly as the area around Marcellus darkened and shifted. For a split second or perhaps for even less than that, his true form became discernible. I saw a talon slash at Marcellus' wrist, and then he was pressing that wrist against Sebastian's mouth...Marcellus was feeding Sebastian his blood.

No wonder Sebastian hadn't wanted me to watch. I felt almost as if I were spying on them; as if I were seeing something humans just weren't meant to see. Marcellus showed no sign of taking his wrist away, and when Sebastian swallowed his eyes closed. One swallow, two, three...how much did Marcellus want him to drink?

"There you are, just like that," Marcellus encouraged. "That's the way, little one."

I stared at him. Had I just heard him call Sebastian little one?

I lost track of how many times Sebastian swallowed and I just watched. I still had the feeling as if I were watching something that I shouldn't, but I didn't know why. More than once I saw Sebastian's hands twitch as if he wanted to reach up and hold Marcellus' arm in place, and I saw Marcellus' free hand come up and cup Sebastian's head, supporting it so he could drink. More than once I saw him thread his fingers through Sebastian's hair, actually caressing him. Just what was I seeing, and what did it mean?

After one last swallow, Sebastian pulled his head back and sighed. Even with his eyes closed, I could see them glowing. Marcellus rose from the bed and slowly lowered Sebastian into the pillows.

"He'll sleep for the next several hours," he whispered. "We should return upstairs, young master."

"I want to stay with him," I said, unwilling to go. What if I left and Marcellus moved him somewhere else while I was gone?

"You may come back tomorrow," Marcellus promised. "He'll be happy to see you."

"Can I trust that promise?" I asked.

"I give you my word," he said.

I knew that when a demon gave his word, he had to keep it, with or without a contract to the person he was giving that word to. "All right."

He led me out of the room and just behind us came the gray one that had been following me around. Marcellus closed the door quietly and led the way down the hallway.

"Marcellus," I said as he led me up the stairs. "Why did you call Sebastian 'little one'?"

"He's a few thousand years younger than I am."

"But he's not a child."

"He is compared to me."

Oh, he was annoying!

"You weren't frightened, were you, young master?"

I looked at him. "I was surprised, but not frightened," I admitted. "That will help him heal more quickly?"

"It will," Marcellus assured me. "It's not something that's done very often, so that was probably why Sebastian was reluctant to have you see it. He still isn't very comfortable with the idea."

"Oh."

"I hope you'll still have an appetite for supper after that, young master," Marcellus said. "In the meantime, you could go play. Please excuse me."

I glared at his retreating back. "How many times do I have to tell you? I DON'T PLAY!"