A/N: I don't know what it is, but these last few chapters have been really hard to write! I have the ending, but getting there is proving to be very difficult! I think the drama and angst in this chapter was getting to me; however, I hope all the edits I've done has made it good enough.

Anyway, please read and enjoy. And, review if you feel like it. Also, welcome to any and all new readers and followers. Thank you for taking the time to read this!

Disclaimer: Nothing is mine, except for my OCs. Thanks!

Marek stood upon the tall tower, his eyes gleaming as he overlooked the training field. Hundreds of demons occupied the grounds, their bare feet kicking up the harsh dirt and gravel that dug into their skin. He'd ordered his lieutenants to divide the men into smaller groups for easier observation, but as he stood there doing just that, he found his scowl deepening by the minute.

This new battalion was rubbish. There was no denying it as the seconds ticked by and still, demon upon demon continued to fail at the most basic of combat maneuvers. Time and again, Marek's eyes caught the fall of an arrogant demon being swept off of his unbalanced feet or witnessed the sound punch to another's face as he left his body unguarded.

These were moves that should have been perfected and mastered weeks ago, and yet…..Marek let loose an utterly unimpressed scoff.

"Pardon me, Captain?" The question came from his right, from the demon standing slightly behind him, dressed in his armor. Saren was his name, and although Marek would never admit it aloud, he was his most trusted lieutenant. Saren had been one of the eight demons that had survived the massacre when the original First Battalion had gone insane, and the only one of his lieutenants to return. It had only seemed appropriate for the rest to be promoted once they'd returned home.

Marek was grateful for the demon beside him, but he would never say the specific words out loud. "What?" the captain barked at him.

Used to the ill-temper of his captain by now, Saren did not jump at the bite of his tone. "I thought you said something, sir," he answered, quickly. "I apologize." He gave him a deep bow.

"Hmph!" Marek grumbled, turning back to the masses before him. His scowl returned, and he could feel the frustration building in his chest.

The army before him was nothing like a battalion of the Hell King should be, what the first army had been like. Marek thought back to his own captain, Wolfsbane, and remembered his leadership with admiration. Wolfsbane had taught discipline and obedience, which in turn, had bred loyalty and the willingness to fight. Of course, there had been pride and arrogance, for they were demons, first and foremost; but that had been left in check whenever the call to duty had been sounded.

And, oh how they had served.

Marek could remember the many times Wolfsbane had called them to arms. Most of their summons had been to fight alongside the pathetic humans that had been corrupted. Wolfsbane had told them, many times, that their charge was revenge; revenge against Him who had cast them from their First Home. And what better way to exact that revenge than to help the corruption of His children on the mortal realm?

They had helped kingdoms fall, civilizations to be exterminated, even the spread of deadly diseases had not been below them. The chaos had been glorious, and Marek missed the screams of pain and despair, missed the feeling of satisfaction throughout his body as the humans fell, for it had been quite some time before this Restored Soul that they had been summoned.

The new battalion was taking far more attention than what he was willing to give, for there were more important matters for him to deal with. Unfortunately, he needed his ranks to take care of these matters, but these men were in no way ready for even the most minute of orders, much less than the importance of a Restored Soul.

Marek did not like to admit it, but the whole matter of the Restored Soul unnerved him. There were far too many questions than there were answers, and the fact that nearly a hundred demons had gone insane and destroyed each other wasn't the most comforting of thoughts either.

That was far more power a pathetic human should have over an immortal demon, and it worried the captain.

Another noise of frustration escaped him, louder than he intended. In his peripheral vision, he saw Saren's head slightly turn towards him, but the lieutenant said nothing, just waited.

To another of his lieutenants standing by, Marek barked, "Double the drill times!"

The lieutenant bowed and disappeared off of the tower, no doubt materializing somewhere down on the training field. Marek once again stared out over his men, and still, Saren waited.

Though his eyes were on his men, the captain's thoughts were not. If there was ever anyone who did not fit the description of fallen angel, it was the demon beside him. Throughout history, humans had developed a ridiculous perception of demons: dark, ugly, twisted monsters that thrived on only the seven deadly sins, repulsed by light, whether heavenly or not.

Growling, hissing fanged mouths, unholy glowing eyes, bringers of chaos and destruction, that is what humans think, Marek thought, chuckling to himself.

Humans were so stupid.

Under his dark, heavy armor Saren stood like the tall soldier who had, at one point before The Fall, enthralled the female population of Heaven with his golden hair and brilliant blue eyes. There had been whispers and stares concerning him everywhere he went, but he had welcomed them all with a cheerful smile.

Marek had not known him when they had lived in Paradise, but what he could gather about him in the days that had followed his new post as captain, Saren had been an obedient soul, if not a bit prideful.

The demon had loved himself more than he loved God, and that had made him one of the easiest targets to lure away when the rebellion against Him had started to spread.

There had been many like Saren when The Fall occurred: seemingly innocent souls with sweet, obedient dispositions, and wide eyes to match. But, that had been a mere cover for the darkness already festering in their hearts, making their corruption all the more easier under Lucifer's enticing words.

Notwithstanding his looks, Saren had proved to be an excellent commander under Wolfsbane, and his loyalty to Marek had been proven the day they had fought against their crazed comrades of the original First Battalion. There were more battles to come, the captain was sure of it with a Restored Soul running rampant among the mortals, and he was grateful he had least one demon, Saren, that he could depend on.

But, he would never say the specific words out loud.

Ciel sat behind the large oak desk in his study, absentmindedly tapping his fingers against the hard surface. He looked the very image of a bored teenager, if it was not for the fact that his desk was covered with important documents from both Her Majesty and his company.

The day's work had become boring despite the early hour of the morning, and so the young earl had fallen back upon one of his favorite pastimes.

Observing.

There was something afoot in his manor, something unsettling. He could see it in the slight tremble in Mey-Rin when he passed her in the hall, sweeping; or the way Finny, normally cheerful despite his blundering, jumped at every little thing; or Bard's muttering which was happening more often; and most especially with Tanaka, whose calm, almost aloof demeanor was now marked with the ever so slightest of frowns.

Even Sebastian had taken to skulking around the place, his once elegant and graceful movements now stiff and rigid. The change in his butler was unsettling, but it wholly convinced Ciel of one thing.

The current atmosphere in and around the Phantomhive Manor had everything to do with Sebastian.

It shouldn't have come as a surprise, if Ciel thought about it; as head butler, Sebastian often set the mood for the day. Depending on his level of annoyance, the servants would either be trembling with fear or happily engaged in their chores.

But, this was different.

While it was true that the other servants annoyed him to no end, Sebastian had always been able to push that irritation aside to complete the tasks at hand.

Nowadays, that did not seem to be the case.

There was anger in the demon's every move, his smooth words unconvincing as he spoke to the earl. This wasn't just annoyance or irritation, it was an entirely different beast, and Ciel couldn't make heads or tails of it.

The change in atmosphere had been immediate, manifesting itself the day after Tommy Hammond's funeral. While Vanessa had promptly isolated herself to the quaint cottage she and Sebastian called home (and it was a self-imposed isolation for he had heard even Mey-Rin had been refused a visit since their return), the demon butler had stalked around the manor, scowling. Bard had once made the mistake of asking about Vanessa after breakfast, which resulted in a ten minutes rant from the butler about minding his own damn business that seemed to shake the walls.

While it amused Ciel to see his butler so unsettled and his cook cowering in fear, it had also disturbed the earl to have witnessed Sebastian's slip of self-control.

Did he dare ask his demon for an explanation? Despite his distemper, the chores were being done and the manor still ran smoothly; he found no fault in the running of the estate.

The question went unanswered as a knock to his door interrupted his thoughts. Startled, Ciel straightened up in his chair and pulled the nearest document closer. Even in his current state, Sebastian would no doubt give him an earful if he didn't appear even remotely occupied.

"Come in!" he called out.

Sebastian entered, carrying that familiar polished silver tray of his, a bundle of neatly stacked letters sitting in the middle. He closed the door behind him and stalked over to the desk, presenting the tray with a stiff arm.

"The morning post, milord," the butler announced, his tone cold and uninterested, making the young noble blink. "Opened and sorted for your convenience."

Ciel secretly studied him as he took the letters. Interestingly enough, there was a twitch in one of the demon's eyebrows, and his lips were pursed in a hard, straight line.

Settling back against his chair, Ciel casually flipped through the mail, feigning interest. "Anything of importance?" he asked, briefly reading some of the names on the post.

"No," Sebastian answered, his tone was clipped and short. He said no more and simply stood there, waiting.

"Things have been quiet all morning," Ciel continued. There were other ways of getting answers without straightforward questioning, and it would be worth it if it meant keeping his head.

"Yes." Again, short and to the point.

"The servants are behaving," the earl tried again.

A quick nod from his butler. "As well as can be expected from those three," he reported.

"And, your wife?"

Sebastian immediately tensed. "Pardon me, milord?" he asked. There was an underlying tone of mixed surprise and disbelief that echoed in his expression.

Ah, I see. "Your wife," the young noble repeated, confident that he had his answer to his servant's change of mood. "How is Vanessa?"

The corners of the butler's mouth turned down, ever so slightly. His red eyes stared down at his master, threatening to set him ablaze with a single look. Anyone else would have cowered under such a gaze, but the earl felt emboldened.

"I haven't seen her inside the manor since your return from her brother's funeral," Ciel explained, almost casually.

"As you say, milord, she just put her brother to rest," Sebastian answered, just as coolly. "Naturally, after such an ordeal, she is taking some time for herself."

Ciel inwardly scoffed at his answer. "And you?" he asked.

Eyebrows sit up in surprise. "Me, milord?"

To hell with it! "I was hesitant to say anything before," Ciel said, ignoring the sense of dread in his stomach, "but I will now: you do not seem to be taking your wife's alone time very well."

He waited, wondering if a similar rant that Bard had endured was forthcoming or the sensation of his head being ripped off for such nosiness would greet him.

He was relieved when Sebastian merely asked, "What gives you that idea, if I may ask?"

"You are on edge, distracted." Ciel pointed out.

"Are you displeased with my service, young master?"

"Not at all," he answered, honestly. "But, I am displeased with the way your personal life seems to be interfering."

An annoyed twitch of the eyebrow. "Forgive me, milord," the butler said, and for a moment, his voice had taken on the smooth, silken tones the teen recognized. "But, it is inappropriate for a master to lower himself to the concern of his servant's private life."

Ciel smirked, pleased at the underlying warning. Perhaps his butler wasn't completely distracted. "Then see to it that your private life does not catch my attention, Sebastian," he countered. "Am I understood?"

A stiff bow greeted the earl, black hair hiding the scowl on the servant's face. "Yes, milord."

Michael walked beside Sebastian as the latter stalked across the back lawn of the Phantomhive estate towards the small cottage hidden in the forest line. He could feel the irritation and anger radiating from the demon, and immediately stepped in front of him.

"This is not a good idea," he announced.

Sebastian scowled as he registered the angel's hand on his chest. "I don't recall asking for your opinion," he said, jaw clenched.

Michael merely grinned. "Asked for or not," he said, cheerfully, "it is still not a good idea for you to visit Vanessa."

"And, you must realize that I do not care what you think is good or not," the butler countered, his eyes momentarily darting to the cottage behind the angel. After his little "talk" with his master, Michael had informed him that Vanessa had actually gotten out of bed and was now sitting at her kitchen table, silently sipping a cup of tea. He had taken it as a sign that it was the perfect time to do as his master suggested, and take the steps to prevent his situation with his wife into further interrupting his service to the earl.

Determined, Sebastian took a single step forward, and immediately found himself staring at the business end of a sharp blade.

"When I announced Vanessa was finally out of bed," Michael said, still smiling, although his tone had become cold, "I did not mean she was ready for visitors. Especially not from you, Sebastian. Not with your current disposition."

The demon snarled, but took a step back. "She is my wife!" he snapped, his eyes already swirling with power.

"She is a human who is struggling to deal with what life has thrown at her," the angel shot back. "Things that have become her reality through no fault of her own."

Sebastian narrowed his eyes at the implication. "You are at as much fault as I," told him. "You had a hand in-"

"I cannot change what you believe regarding your rebirth," Michael cut in smoothly, his jaw tense. "What matters now is that Vanessa be kept safe."

"I will be able to do that once you step aside."

"Will you?" Michael taunted. "Your protection so far has led to several deaths around her, including her brother. How many others need die before you realize that this is something you cannot do on your own?"

"I will do anything to keep Vanessa safe!" Sebastian shot back, angrily. "And, if that means many more pathetic humans need to die, then so be it!"

Michael's grip on his sword tightened. "You know I will not allow that," he said.

"And, you know that I don't-"

"Stop it."

The soft command came from behind the angel, causing both men to turn. Peeking out from behind the slightly opened cottage door was Vanessa, her eyes red and puffy.

"Vanessa," Sebastian said, her name breathy and soft. He took a step forward.

She shook her head, stopping him. "Don't," she told him, struggling to keep her gaze steady. "I-I only opened the door because the two of you were being so loud."

"We apologize," Michael said, quickly.

Sebastian sneered at him. "Do not presume to speak for me," he said.

Michael scoffed. "Sebastian-" he warned.

Ignoring him, the butler turned back to the now frowning young lady still hiding behind the door. "I would like to speak with you, Vanessa," he announced, pleasantly.

She flinched at the sound of her name. Her eyes then went to the angel, who shook his head at her. She frowned again, deep in thought before finally returning her gaze to the butler. "Only if Michael is allowed to stay," she said.

Both angel and demon frowned. They exchanged uneasy glances with one another before turning back to her. They both nodded.

Vanessa took a deep breath before stepping back and allowing the door to further swing open. She waited until they had both entered before closing the door behind them. She stepped beside Michael and allowed him to lead her back to the sitting area.

They sat in an uncomfortable silence, Sebastian in an armchair, his wife and the angel on the adjacent settee. The tension grew thicker, until Sebastian finally cleared his throat. The sound so startled Vanessa that she jumped in her seat.

"I apologize," he said, trying hard to hide his amused smile.

She glared at him. "What did you want to talk about?" she asked, blushing.

"Our present situation."

Michael rolled his eyes, even as Vanessa said, "You want to talk about how you lied to me, even before we were married?"

"I didn't lie, sweetheart," Sebastian said, calmly, although he felt his self-control threatening to slip. "I just did not tell you."

"And, just why did you not tell me?" she demanded, crossing her arms across her bosom. Feeling her emotions on the rise, the angel placed a comforting hand on her shoulder.

Her husband growled, not liking the display, especially when it appeared to calm her. "I did not think it was it important," he grounded out.

"Not important?" Vanessa's eyes were practically bulging from their sockets. "You didn't think it was something I should have known?"

"For what purpose?" Sebastian questioned, seeming confused at her question.

"Purpose?" Vanessa exclaimed, hopping to her feet. "It's called common decency, common sense!" She stood there, fists clenched at he sides, her breathing increased. "You," she continued, jabbing a finger in his direction, "kept something from me, something important, that had a major impact on not only me, but this entire city!"

Sebastian was nonplussed at her outburst. "Do you honestly think you would react differently had I done so?"

She stomped her foot in frustration, despite the angel trying to soothe her. "You never gave me a chance to find out!" she shouted at him.

"I was protecting you, Vanessa!"

"You were being selfish!"

"Selfish?" Sebastian's eyes widened in disbelief. "If wanting to protect the love of my life is proof of selfishness, then I will gladly agree that I a selfish!" He had gotten to his feet by now, his stance and expression as thunderous as hers.

"This had nothing to do with your love for me, and you know it!" she countered.

He took a step towards her, which immediately had her scrambling away. "You have no-"

Michael finally stepped in between them, his countenance slightly glowing. "This was not a good idea," he told Sebastian, his look pointed.

The butler paused, surprised at how quickly his frustration had escalated. His eyes darted back to his wife, who had stepped away from him, the settee now between them. He moved forward, but she furiously shook her head at him, eyes watering from frustration.

Michael grabbed Sebastian by the forearm, his grip firm. "We should take our leave." The words were a suggestion, but the angel's tone was not.

"I will if it is what my wife wishes," Sebastian answered, his voice suddenly soft. His eyes turned to Vanessa, who held his gaze for a moment before turning away. He could smell the saltiness of her tears in the air as they slid down her cheeks.

"I-I..." she stammered, unable to reply.

Before Michael could stop him, Sebastian rushed to her, standing close behind her, yet not touching. His fingers ached to run through the silky strands of her hair, his body tense with wanting to feel her pressed against him.

"Do you still love me, Vanessa?" he whispered, leaning down towards her ear.

She shivered as his warm breath fanned over her skin. "Don't!" she pleaded, even as she turned slightly towards him.

"It's a simple question, my love," he told her, his hand reaching around and cupping her cheek.

She gasped at the sudden contact, her eyes momentarily closing. She leaned into his touch, sighing against his skin.

"Sebastian!" Michael scolded him, and his outburst jolted Vanessa to her senses.

She roughly pushed him away. She took several steps backwards, until she felt the wall at her back. "What was that?" she demanded, her face twisted with anger once more.

"What was what?" Sebastian asked while staring daggers at an amused angel.

"This!" she exclaimed, gesturing between them. "You did something to get close to me!"

"I did no such thing," he answered, coolly.

"You did!" she insisted.

"If I was near you, it was because you wanted me there." He started towards her again.

Vanessa darted towards the bedroom area, but Michael quickly pulled Sebastian towards the door. "That is enough," he said, sternly. He ignored the angry glare from the demon and turned to the equally conflicted demon's wife. "We will take our leave now," he added.

She said nothing, but watched as angel and demon suddenly disappeared from her sight. She fell onto the bed and buried her face into a pillow to release a scream of frustration.

Why had she allowed Sebastian to get so close? She tried to convince herself that he had used some kind of magic (demons did have powers, not unlike angels, didn't they?) not when there was no way she'd allow it because she was mad at him.

Wasn't she mad at him?

She should be, she had every right to be. Discovering your husband was a demon and that he had purposely kept it from you was grounds for mind-numbing, body trembling anger, right?

Right?

Vanessa was no longer sure. She was still angry at Sebastian, but she felt mostly embarrassed.

How could she had not known?

Again, the lamentation of not having the foresight to predict her current situation washed over her, and Vanessa felt her chest constrict.

Would she ever be able to think of her husband without this embarrassment or soul-crushing guilt?

Outside, Michael and Sebastian blinked into the middle of the Phantomhive estate's hedge maze, the angel's hold still strong around the demon. Sebastian yanked his arm free and stalked a few feet away.

"You had no right!" Sebastian shouted, once he realized what the angel had done and where he was. His eyes now a swirly pink, teeth bared, his fangs lengthened and pointed.

"I did what was necessary," Michael shot back. He watched as the demon further worked himself into a frenzy, shadows gathering at his feet.

"I would suggest you leave," Sebastian said, abruptly turning on his heel to face Michael. His voice was lower than before, practically a growl. "Now!" he added, harshly.

Michael scoffed at his demand. "Do not go near your wife," he told the demon, his eyes beginning to glow. "I will not be far away." His gaze became pointed, punctuating his meaning.

This did not sit well with the enraged butler. "Go!" Sebastian yelled, and a pulse of pure energy suddenly burst through the air.

Michael blinked as the blast hit him, but held his ground. His own eyes turned a brilliant white, his power making the air around them sizzle. Sebastian hissed, his anger peaked, but did not move. No further words or actions from the angel were needed, and he blinked away.

Leaving a very angry demon to roar his frustrations to the sky.