A/N: start thinking about the end. I will have a question for you in about a month.

Special thanks to Carrie, for the beta!

Thank you to HiddenOtaku24, promocat, Phantom of the Fiction, Carrie2sky, and guests for commenting! You guys rock! I especially want your opinion when the time comes. ;D

Chapter 21: His Master, Learning.

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I can't talk about anything.

None of my friends will meet my gaze. I feel like there's a permanent stain on my hands, or a splatter of something across my face. Something hot, sticky, and pungent.

I wipe at my cheeks.

Sebastian comes up from behind. He comes in close, resting his weight on me for an instant. Then he pulls my shoulders back, settling my weight in a less strained way.

I lean against him.

"It was what she wanted," Sebastian breathes.

"Huh," I mutter.

"You did a good deed for the murderess…buried her like family," he smiles, and pets my cheek.

I can't say anything. My aunt's body is lying in a crumpled heap in my memory. Grief and helplessness fight within my bones, making my lungs tighten. The sudden difficulty in breathing seems like an ill omen.

But more than the grief that's been eating at me for days, annoyance creeps in. Makes my jaw tighten and my eyes sharpen on the source of it. "Sebastian," I mutter. "Shut up."

Sebastian laughs cruelly. He never looks more delighted than when he wallows in another emotional upheaval. Looking down like a raven from on high, his eyes meet mine. That he is so pleased by my mood is not helping things. "Why didn't you kill her? I know you had a gun concealed..." He appears nearly expressionless, if a little questioning. "You killed Stone for less offense."

But the lack of company for days is eating at me. And again, I only have so many weeks to find the answer to the puzzle…else Sebastian will have captured my chess-pieces once and for all. I suppose it's this expression that spurs him on.

"Tell me why you didn't shoot her. Were you planning on getting information from her? Capturing her, after that Reaper was dealt with?" His eyes narrow, and I think that perhaps Sebastian understands less about humans than he thinks. He may think he understands everything about humans desires, but he is puzzled by my own motivation.

Does he think it was familiar bonds? Loyalty? Love? I scoff. My own expression is bitter, calculating. The time left in this contract is dwindling to weeks. I will die at seventeen, but I can say that I understand more about demons and humanity than Sebastian may. Ageless, nearly immortal Sebastian, with his bloody Secret Name and secret past, does not understand motivation.

"I would have asked her. She might have told me, if you had successfully dealt with Grell." I glare at the floor, and what little I can see of his shoes. "It was your job to see that Grell didn't kill me. I didn't really need the gun at all." I lift my chin. "A demon wouldn't understand such things as loyalty or love." I lean against him, closing my eyes, pondering the situation as I speak. "Guilt maybe. She would have felt those things, and wanted to unburden her sins to someone. If she had lived..."

I stop. Anger has made my tongue loose. There's no benefit in telling Sebastian.

"Yes, you might have a ghost of a trail to work with. The sordid connections of your aunt may yet be related to those that killed your family. A pity you don't have time to hunt them out."

I wriggle out of his grasp, turning around to face him. When I look up into his scarlet eyes, I can't stop the words from pouring out. "But it isn't over yet. I have until after my birthday...until that day, you will serve me."

I've never sounded so desperate in my own ears. But anger makes me shake, makes my hands clench.

"Never leave me, never betray me." I push away then, stepping so that I can look at him without craning my neck.

Sebastian says nothing for a moment, smiling his soft, sardonic smile. He starts to bow, so neatly and arrogantly, and his coolness brings out a feeling in me that I had nearly forgotten since that night. Since my aunt died.

Hot anger makes my muscles rigid. I bring up my hand, and smack Sebastian in the face.

He looks mildly surprised.

"You overstep yourself. Our contract isn't over yet..."

Sebastian brings his hand to his heart and bows, finally uttering the "Yes, my lord." That's been on his lips since earlier. That phrase he knows annoys me.

"We have things to do." I inform him. "Assist me, Sebastian."

The next few hours, he helps me straighten my flat. I order him to deal with any evidence that might link Stone with me, and for him to file all the new information we have gained from my aunt. I won't be foolish enough to burn it just to save her reputation. The dead don't need to worry about reputation.

I won't need to worry...

Sebastian's hand on my shoulder brings my attention back to the present. "Would you care for tea, young master?" His lips curve up. He doesn't remove his hand; instead, he gently rubs the back of my neck.

"Stop calling me that."

Something about the whole array of incidents, of the rise and fall of our banter reminds me of something. Reminds me of that time I talked to Alois in the hospital.

"Sugar him up a bit. Make him adore you. He'll tell you himself if you can play him right." he insisted.

I coughed as I tried for scorn. "You must be joking. He's a demon. Romance and flowers will hardly work."

Alois laughed. The sound was not pleasant. "Have you seen him around you? He's already halfway there."

My breath catches. Could it be that Alois was right? Sebastian has seemed...since Stone...he's been...softer. Or if not quite soft, than more readily at hand. Like the friend I wanted to confide in, or…

…a would-be lover?

…no. Definitely not. He's…

I turn away. "I'm busy. I need to figure this out." I gesture vaguely at the room. "There's too much to do."

Sebastian murmurs something about bringing a neat little pastry and tea in a thermos, then. Something that I was only barely paying attention to. Rather than the mystery of him, I'd rather work on a concrete puzzle.

The book sits on my desk like a sentry. If books could gloat or mock, this one would. Its presence is like a person one doesn't know well, standing over one's shoulder. It's been there since the days after the Viscount's ill-ended party, but I moved it to my desk. It is a tempting puzzle...

I run my fingers over the expensive leather binding, wondering what secrets it contains. But the pages will not open. It's almost like they were glued together, or locked somehow. I take it between my hands and begin to pry.

From the kitchen, I hear a quiet rustle and the chink of china. A few moments later, he has passed through the door, bearing an old silver tray he's polished to shine. On it, he's arranged that thermos, and a pretty serving of cake. It's a black cherry and chocolate affair, tiny decorative ribbons of cream and glaze. Not exactly what I'd call neat myself, but it looks delicious.

"My, but what's this? Is that little book still troubling you?" Sebastian stands attentive on to the side. A smile plays at his lips.

I drop the book hurriedly. "I'm trying to open it. I might as well find out more about that Viscount…I grabbed the book for a reason." As if I thought it more than a useful distraction. A toy for my last weeks.

Sebastian makes a disbelieving "hmm" in the back of his throat, and begins to walk about the room, dusting and polishing the surfaces with ease.

I watch him expertly walk from corner to corner, turning down my blankets, and opening the window. He doesn't bother to move at a normal speed after that, zipping around with a polishing cloth and another tightly woven cloth. Unlike Mei-Rin's dusting, no clouds of dust fill the air, but the surfaces are merely…clearer. He's finished in the time it takes me to arrange the tray of sweets. Sebastian steps out of the room, and when he returns, he has a book of his own.

The ease of which he opens it seems to highlight the difficulty I have with my own book. Sitting on a stool near my desk, he has the nerve to open it before me.

I sneak a glance at the title and roll my eyes "Managing Asthma with Pets." Ignoring his antics, I get down on the floor. I decide to make a chalk circle on the floorboards, fussing with an improvised compass.

The sound of turning pages accompanies the sound of my chalk on the floorboards. If Sebastian disproves my messing right after he finished dusting, he doesn't say anything.

I run my fingers over the book, and finger the primed leather. It shouldn't be this difficult to open a book. I rub at my eye patch, wondering if the contract symbol will reveal some hint of the magic on it.

"What's bothering you, Ciel?" Sebastian asks says politely.

"This stupid book. I can't open it." I lift my eye patch. I frown. I can see no hint of it's binding this way. But it feels…lighter. Or maybe…transient? Not quite here, where it should be.

"Why?" Sebastian teases. Or maybe he genuinely doesn't know why I can't manage.

I sigh in exasperation. "It's spelled shut! I can't open it." I gesture at the circle on the floor, indicating that I intend to use it. Even though I haven't the faintest idea how a circle would help open this particular book.

Sebastian sets his own book down. The soles of his shoes clack, and stop just at the edge of the circle. He bends at the waist to better look me in the eye. "Let me see your little book. You can learn a few spells this way…or you can hide it from me, learn nothing, and I will know only how stubborn you are. Neither of us profits."

I look down at my own fruitless attempts, considering the offer. Which is better? Mucking about with unknown magic, or reading the spells of my enemy? The decision is easy. I hand him the book.

oOoOoOoOoO

(Sebastian)

The book of spells that has held my master's attention for the better part of the day weighs little more than a bag of flour. It is of little interest to me, and truthfully, the spell that binds it is a trifle. There is no dark magic here, only tricks and puzzles locking it from him. A puzzle that he has not yet learned to see.

I doubt the insides are much better, likely to be written in riddles or vague poetic nonsense, but it will please Ciel. I turn the thing over in my hands and examine the spine. The leather is not as old as the pages; it's been newly bound, and strung together with what I assume to be a straightforward, no-nonsense charm. I stroke the book with two fingers before removing my glove. A pentagram seems to be the weak spot...I trace a long black nail over the pentagram, triggering the book to open.

The pages ripple and shutter with the force of the spell shattering and seems to open at random. I hand the book to Ciel with a bow.

He takes it eagerly, like a child offered a favorite sweet. Ciel greedily clutches the book and sets it on the table, ready to devour its knowledge. Perhaps because he never was one to believe in fate or destiny, the child flips through the book, unwilling to read the first pages shown to him. "...you opened it." he smiles at me.

"Of course." I cast a glance toward his patchy circle, wondering what sort of chance he'd have taken to open this…spell diary. "What kind of an assistant would I be, could I not do this?"

Ciel pours over the book between dainty bites of cake, careful not to spill crumbs on the volume. He glances over spells that profess the ability to grant invisibility, spells to enhance the power of a man-made weapon and spells claiming to call up the voices of the dead. He stops at the spell that details how to take energy from another person and marks it for later study. This is, undoubtedly, the disaster that Druitt began at that party…the question is…what did he do with the energy he collected?

I can see Ciel's attention curl around the puzzle, setting it to one side as he contemplates the contents. I settle back down with my book, resigned to cleaning the floor when Ciel deigns to leave the study.

A glance out the window shows signs of snow. The sky is gray, and the temperature falls with each passing day. We near the end of the Contract. I wonder with a sense of dissatisfaction if once every year for sixty- six years would have been preferable. Watching from afar, guiding and coaxing his soul to delectability from the shadows. Six years seems little more than the turning of a season.

I watch his slender shoulders curve, watch his feet restlessly kick under the desk he is only recently tall enough to sit in comfortably. I think of the soul housed there, and wonder at its taste.

What does it matter, watching from close or afar? I will obey his command until the time comes. No matter how he soils his hands, how he slowly abandons his childish charms, I will stay by his side.

Ciel shifts. His fingers have stopped on a heading from the latter half. Calling the wind. He stands up, and makes a beeline for the window.

Ciel leans out the window, quiet at last. He speaks the words printed on the page, and effortlessly allows his mind to wander out. The spark of light around his contract-sign flickers in and out, and the call is completed.

"Lizzy…" he calls.

The wind, in answer, is soft and childish. There's little resemblance to the girl of that name, but I recognize her from a few of Ciel's spontaneous outings. A girl who I thought was a lost connection to his past, but may have been something more after all.

"Did you find his name?" The wind-spirit is light and ethereal. A fae thing with little thought to the consequences of such questions. A spirit that will not last a millennia, I should say.

"No." Ciel is quiet a moment, and the wind caresses his cheek. Strands of hair whip around his face. "His name is still a secret to me..."

She murmurs something between a sympathetic coo and a sigh. "But you know him so well."

Ciel says nothing.

"…when will we have tea again?" She chirps.

Ah. So it was this girl. Did Ciel call her unconsciously, or does she care enough to find him on her own?

Ciel's voice is hesitant. "I'm afraid I don't have time. This will be the last time we talk..." he looks down, casting his gaze over the wintry scene.

"I'm sorry..."

I turn away. There is nothing to be gleaned here. Let them have their private words, their foolish schemes. I go back to my book.

.

After finishing the volume, I get up to clean the rest of the flat while Ciel is not free to get in my way. Let me see, the silverware needs polishing, and I believe the hem of Ciel's trousers needs to be let down…

Ciel glances up when I walk down the corridor. He stands before my own bedroom door.

Scarcely a half hour after Ciel has the book open, he's already trying his hand at a spell. I frown, hoping that he's not foolish enough to try one of the more advanced ones…cleaning up the wreckage of a badly cast spell would waste all my cleaning efforts.

"What are you doing?" I ask carefully.

"I locked your door. Now I'm going to open it…" Ciel says.

I raise an eyebrow, but Ciel pays me no mind. His boyish actions remind me of our first days together, when each of us tested the other's limits. Ciel murmurs the words, and makes an unlocking motion with a finger. He looks less careless, less mischievous than determined. His eyes shine with triumph, as the door swings open.

I breathe a quiet sigh of relief. The kittens are not in my room today… It is a good thing they are prowling the streets at the moment.

Ciel sneezes and I smile.

tbc...

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