A/N: I had to edit this on my phone, so if it's still a hot mess, that's the reason why; sorry! Also, I had a lot of fun writing this chapter; it all stemmed from the thought of, "What questions would you ask a demon if you were given the chance?" This is what I imagined would be running through Vanessa's mind; hopefully what I envisioned translated well onto paper.

As always, I am incredibly grateful for the reads and reviews that I get; I love the fact that I get almost daily notifications informing me of being favorited or added to someone's reading list! Thank you!

Also, I just wanted to thank Silvertongued Dreams and The Night Whisperer; I am always amazed at people who read and leave a review after each chapter. That takes dedication; I know I struggle sometimes to leave a review for even one chapter. So thank you for keeping up with me! :-)

I also wanted to thank Aservis Routrier for their kind words regarding Chapter 36. I really struggled with writing that chapter and to see your thoughts and encouragement made me feel like the struggle was worthwhile. Thank you again.

Gosh, enough of the awards show speech, lol. Here's the next chapter, I hope y'all enjoy it!

Disclaimer: Not mine, but y'all know that, right?

As a demon, Sebastian had often been immune to the effects of time. Immortal as he was, time was hardly a factor in anything he did in the mortal realm, for he had, as the humans would say, "all the time in the world."

That changed just twice in his demon life.

The first time was when he answered the summons to be Earl Phantomhive's butler, for the life of a noble was often ruled by engagements and meetings, as well as schedules to keep said life running smoothly. A butler headed these schedules, and Sebastian could recall the many times he would refer to the pocket watch in his waistcoat.

The second time was when Vanessa re-entered his life. The task to get her to remember him had been driven by the fact that his time with her would be limited, considering his status as a demon and she, a human. The situation had been further exacerbated when her restored memories put her danger.

When they had married, time seemed to quicken, forcing him to treasure each and every second with his wife, for as time moved on, so did Vanessa's mortality. And now, she wasn't speaking to him and Sebastian was not pleased with that fact at all.

It was now going on to thirty-six hours since he'd last seen his wife, and that had been the previous morning, when Michael had escorted Vanessa to see her parents. He had worried all day during her absence and had felt his anxiety rise when Michael had informed him (by blinking into the middle of the kitchen, no less!) that because the visit had crept into the late hours of the night, Vanessa had been invited to stay.

Sebastian had expected her to return this morning, but as the morning went by and afternoon arrived, Vanessa had yet to appear. And now, it was nearly eleven o'clock at night, and she still had not returned.

Michael would get an earful when he dared show his face again, Sebastian decided with a scowl.

Sighing in frustration, Sebastian stalked over to the sink full of dishes. He took a moment to roll the sleeves of his shirt up to his elbows, and not bothering with the gloves he normally wore for such a task, began to clean. Almost immediately, the repetitive motions of washing the dishes calmed the tension in his shoulders and allowed his mind to wander.

"Sebastian?"

The voice was soft, hesitant, almost afraid. But, it startled him, nonetheless. A large kitchen knife slipped from his fingers and splashed back into the soapy water, leaving a long gash in the palm of his hand and he silently cursed himself for being so distracted. Blood began to drip from his clenched fist as he spun around.

Vanessa stood several feet away, fidgeting. Her eyes widened when she saw the blood dripping to the floor. "Oh!" she gasped, and before either one of them could comprehend her actions, she rushed forward, grabbing him by the arm.

She pulled him towards the sink and ran the cold water. With a small frown, she shoved his hand under the steady stream, patting at the wound with a clean dishcloth.

Sebastian stared down at her in shock, watching as she gently tended to his wound. Just the other day she had been repulsed by his touch, had furiously yelled at him. But, now? Now she was touching him, of her own free will, and not cringing.

Did he dare hope?

Her soft gasp ripped him from his thoughts and he once again refocused his gaze on his wife. She was holding his hand in both of hers, staring at his palm. He could see his skin mending itself, becoming smooth and flawless once more.

"Oh!" she breathed, and her head lifted so their eyes could meet.

They stared at one another for the longest moment, both unsure of what to say. Finally, Vanessa dropped her gaze and released his hand. She reached over to turn the faucet off.

But, she didn't move away.

"You're home," Sebastian said, softly. He stood agonizingly still beside her, afraid the smallest of movements would have her scrambling away.

She nervously tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "Just now," she said, nodding. "Michael blinked us back instead of calling for a carriage. He said it would be faster."

Sebastian softly chuckled. "I see I'm not the only one to use 'in the blink of an eye' to describe his traveling method," he said.

"It's quite disconcerting," Vanessa admitted, shyly. "You're in one place one moment, and in the next, somewhere entirely different."

They fell silent again, the awkwardness heavy between them.

"Have you eaten?" he suddenly asked.

She nodded. "Rebecca helped Mama cook," she answered. "They made one of Grandpère's favorite dishes tonight."

"How is everyone?"

"As well as can be expected. They send their love."

More silence.

"Would you like some dessert then?" Sebastian asked, desperate to keep her close now that her anger seemed to have lessened. "Young Master wasn't able to finish the pudding I made."

After the slightest of hesitation, Vanessa nodded. "That would be nice," she said, softly.

Elated, Sebastian gestured to the kitchen island, pulling up a tall stool for her to sit upon. Making sure she was comfortable, he then moved towards the cold pantry and pulled out a fancy covered bowl. Bringing it back to the counter, he then began to fill a smaller dish with the dessert.

When he finally slid the dish towards her, several luscious strawberries had been sliced and arranged prettily on top of the pudding.

Vanessa smiled at him, fidgeting nervously in her seat as she nodded her thanks. He watched as she began to eat, smiling when he heard a small moan of approval after her first bite.

He left her at the counter eating and returned to the dishes. He could feel her gaze on him as he worked, but continued his task. As he dried the last of the dishes, he heard her scraping the sides of her bowl.

"Finished?" he asked, slowly returning to her side. There was apprehension in his posture, convinced she would bolt if he moved too fast.

She nodded. "It was very good," she told him, smiling a little.

He returned her smile. "I can tell," he teased, chuckling. "You have some on your face."

She blushed, quickly running her fingers over mouth. "Did I get it all?"

"Just a moment," he said. His hand reached for her face and brushed a spot of pudding from the corner of her mouth. "There," he announced, his fingers beginning to pull away. "Now y-"

Her hand caught his, pressing his palm against her cheek. She sighed when their skin connected, her eyes closing, and he felt her relax under his touch.

"Vanessa," he murmured, unsure of what was happening. He watched as she froze at the sound of her name, her eyes slowly opening. Her gaze immediately met his, but she didn't look away.

"I'm sorry, Sebastian," she whispered.

Her words startled him, and he jerked a little. "What do you have to be sorry for, love?" he asked.

"I've been pushing you away," she answered, solemnly.

He nodded slightly, but quickly added, "The fault is mine, sweetheart."

She clutched his hand tighter. "You really should have just told me," she said.

"I know, love. I'm sorry." He pulled his hand away from her face and gently laced their fingers together.

Her eyes seemed to bore into hers. "Did you...think you couldn't trust me with your secret?" The uncertainty had returned.

"No, that was never a reason, Vanessa."

"Then, what?" Her headed tilted with curiosity.

"I was afraid I would lose you after just having found you, my love," he readily admitted. "The first time was agony; I couldn't go through that again."

"I felt like dying after you left heaven," she agreed, nodding. "It was harder to pass the time without you by my side. It was so boring!"

He chuckled, brushing the thumb of his free hand along her bottom lip. He smiled when he felt her body tremble with pleasure.

She suddenly stared at him, her gaze intense. "I don't want to be without you, Sebastian, not ever again."

The intensity of her words made him curious. "Vanessa, what are you saying?"

"Last night I spoke with my grandpere," she began, slowly. "He noticed something was bothering me all through dinner."

Francis di Rossi had been most intriguing at Tommy's funeral. "Yes?" Sebastian prompted.

"Pépère told me that it doesn't matter what a person is," she explained, "it's who they are, what they do with their life that counts."

"Those are very wise words indeed."

Vanessa took a moment to sigh before continuing. "I can't stay away from you, Sebastian," she told him, shyly smiling at him. "Heaven knows I've tried to stay angry with you, to convince myself that I don't love you. But, the longer I was away from you, the more I realized that I do love you, despite you being a d-demon." She stumbled on the word, forcing herself to confront the reality.

He smiled gently and hesitantly brushed the back of his fingers across her cheek. "And, I love you, Vanessa."

"I know," she said, tensed for a moment at his touch. "But, I'm scared, Sebastian. You scared me that night."

He knew she was thinking about the night of her brother's funeral, when he had lost control and let his demon form slip. He ruefully sighed.

"I'm so very sorry about that, my love," he told her, earnestly. "I panicked; all I could think at that moment was that I couldn't let you leave me."

Her head bowed. "I don't want to leave you," she murmured.

He placed a hand atop the crown of her head and brought his lips to hover near her forehead. "Why do I hear a 'but'?" he whispered.

It took a moment, but she hesitantly pressed her forehead against his chest. "How will this work, Sebastian?" he heard her mumble. "Between us, I mean? I have so many questions, but I don't know where to start."

He relaxed a bit when he realized she was willing to work things out. "I will make you a deal," he murmured into her hair.

Her head shot up so fast, her head knocked into his chin. "What kind of deal?" she asked, suspiciously, even as she rubbed the sore spot on her head.

He laughed. "Not that kind of deal, sweetheart," he reassured her, grinning. "I simply meant that I will answer all the questions you may have, but in return, you have to promise to stay with me while we work this out."

She blushed. "Oh," she said, completely embarrassed. "Alright."

Sebastian chuckled again before caressing her cheek. "In the meantime," he announced, "you should get to bed. It's past midnight."

As if on cue, she yawned. "I suppose you're right."

"Come. I'll escort you back." He held out his hand and was pleased when she didn't hesitate to take it.

They were silent as they walked back, the wind rushing around them. As they entered the small cottage, Sebastian lit the fireplace with a short wave of his hand. Vanessa jumped in surprise when the wood burst into flames and the room glowed with light.

"That's handy," she weakly joked, making him chuckle. "Do the others know?"

"The other servants?" he asked, and she nodded. "No, although I suspect Tanaka has his suspicions."

"And the earl?" She had moved towards their wardrobe and pulled out a nightgown.

"He is the reason I am here." He moved to help her undress, making quick work of the buttons and laces. Her body was tense again, but his touch seemed to ease her quickly.

Vanessa pulled the nightgown over her head and shoved her arms through the long sleeves. "He's your contract?"

"Yes." He was standing at her vanity, brush in hand.

She sat down, her eyes meeting his in the mirror. "Is it because of what happened to his parents?" she asked.

Her words made him pause. "I didn't think you were one for gossip, love," he said.

She shrugged. "Gossip was what Ashton servants excelled at," she explained, mentioning her previous employment. "Any bits made its rounds quicker than you could blink."

"Hmm, I always did wonder what had been said about my master before his return," the demon murmured.

"Nothing worth repeating, I assure you." She yawned again, then climbed under the covers.

He waited until she had settled herself among the pillows, then gave her a quick bow. As much as he didn't want to leave, his duty as butler took top priority. "Well, then," he said, softly. "I bid you good-night, my love."

"Sebastian!" she called out as he moved to leave.

He immediately froze, his eyes on her. "Yes?"

She blushed. "Won't you stay with me?" she asked, shyly.

An earlier memory popped into his head. "Do you require a bit of handholding tonight, sweetheart?" he teased.

Her face burned brighter. "Perhaps," she murmured.

He chuckled. "As you wish, milady," he said. He grabbed a chair from the kitchen and placed it beside the bed.

"Sebastian!" she laughed, rolling her eyes.

He paused, a perfectly shaped brow lifted. "Yes?"

She gestured to the empty space on the bed. "I meant get into the bed with me," she clarified.

He smirked. "Well, you weren't being specific."

She scoffed. "Fine. If you'd rather finish your chores..."

He moved so fast, she screamed when he suddenly appeared in the bed beside her. His tailcoat and vest had been removed, his tie was gone, and the top three buttons of his shirt were undone.

"You were saying?" he teased, grinning.

She smacked his shoulder. "Have you always been able to do that?"

He nodded. "It did take some time to master at first."

"What else can you do?"

"I thought you were going to sleep?"

"I thought you were going to answer any questions I had?"

"Vanessa," he scolded.

"Sebastian," she said in the same tone.

He flicked the end of her nose, making her blink. "It's late and I still have some preparations to take care of."

"Do you ever sleep?" she asked, concerned.

"Sleep is a luxury," he easily answered. "Demons do not require it."

She suddenly frowned. "So what did you do all those nights while I thought you were sleeping beside me?"

"Observing."

"Observing what?"

"You."

She scrunched her nose at him. "Creeper," she muttered.

"Demon," he corrected.

A memory of claws and fangs flashed in her head. "Right," she murmured, turning away.

His fingers slid gently under her chin to bring her gaze back to him. "You don't need to be afraid of me, love," he told her softly.

"I'm just confused," she whispered back.

"About?"

"You. Being a demon, I mean. How did it happen?"

"Young Master would say it's an interesting bedtime story."

"Earl Phantomhive knows it?"

"Only just recently."

Her gaze seemed to waver as she nibbled at her bottom lip. "Will you tell me the story?" she asked, softly.

"I promise I will answer anything you might ask, love," he vowed, solemnly, "but for now, go to sleep. I will be here when you wake."

She settled down under the covers, peering up at him. "Promise?" she asked.

He gently kissed the tip of her nose. "Always."

"Longest contract?"

Pausing to think, Sebastian briskly shook out the freshly washed bedsheet in his hands. "Barring Earl Phantomhive?" he questioned.

Standing beside him in the bright morning sun, Vanessa nodded as she held out a couple of clothespins to him. "Yes," she answered.

"Six weeks," he replied, throwing the sheet over the drying line and smoothing it out.

"That's not very long," she commented.

"Considering it was a pigheaded warrior hellbent on death," her husband explained with a smirk, "that was an eternity."

Vanessa laughed, then reached for another bedsheet in the basket at their feet. After finally falling asleep the night before, she had awoken this morning with a new sense of purpose. She had immediately sought out Sebastian and had been by his side since, peppering him with questions when they were alone.

"What made him want death so eagerly?" she now asked.

Sebastian made quick work of the new sheet she handed him. "A basket of bread," he answered.

Vanessa felt herself gaping. "I beg your pardon?"

"The Khan sent it as a gift; it was stolen by another and gloated about."

"Khan?" she repeated, confused,

"You would liken him to a king," the butler explained. "It's the term they use in a country called Mongolia."

"Oh," she said, grateful for his patience in explaining things to her. She was learning more this morning than all of her simple schooling years put together!

"But, bread?" she asked, bringing them back on topic.

"A gift from the Khan was a great honor. It was mostly a pride thing."

"Still."

"I have been summoned for far less reason."

"What could be far less than a basket of bread?" she demanded, shocked.

He shrugged. "Desperation does make one act irrationally in the eyes of others," he offered.

"Hmm." She shook out another sheet and threw it over the clothes line.

"What is it?" Sebastian asked, noticing.

She fiddled with the sheet before finally facing him. "It just seems a bit weird for me to be standing here talking to you about...you," she admitted. "I mean, I know I asked and you said you would answer anything, but..."

"Does it bother you that much?" he asked, concerned.

Her teeth bit down upon her bottom lip. "I'm a bit...unsettled," she told him.

He nodded in understanding. "How about a change of questions then?"

"What do you mean?"

"I could tell you about my time in Egypt."

Her eyes practically bulged from their sockets. "You were in Egypt?" she exclaimed, excitedly.

Sebastian smiled.

"Holy water."

Sebastian dumped another cup of flour into his mixing bowl. "It's very rare," he replied.

Vanessa nodded at his answer and continued to stir the melting chocolate on the stove. They were preparing Earl Phantomhive's afternoon snack, a concoction that she found herself drooling over. "Holy ground," she continued.

"Depends," he answered, then set the mixing bowl down. "Love, you're meant to fold the chocolate as it melts," he advised, "not stir it."

She changed her technique and slapped his hand away when it still didn't appease him. "What does it depend on?" she asked instead,

"What?" he said, confused.

"The holy ground," she said, then playfully rolled her eyes. "Will you pay attention to the conversation, please?"

He chuckled. "It depends on who made it holy."

"There's a difference?" She stopped stirring for a moment.

"Sweetheart, I know you are faithful," the demon said, picking up his bowl once more, "but corruption does exist within His church. It extends to some of his seemingly most faithful servants."

Now she was frowning. "So you're saying unless it's been blessed by God or His angels, holy ground doesn't exist?"

He continued with his task, unperturbed. "Yes."

"Hmm, makes sense, I suppose." She went back to the chocolate.

"You suppose?" he teased.

She stuck her tongue out at him. "What about salt?" she suddenly asked.

"Salt?" Sebastian repeated, looking down at the mixing bowl. "I've already added the salt, love."

Vanessa burst out laughing. "I meant you," she told him. "Does salt hurt you?"

"Where did you get that idea?" he questioned, amused.

"When I was little, we had a neighbor who was...well, I guess you would call her a religious zealot. She claimed demons were after her and the only way she kept them out of her home at night was by surrounding it with salt."

Intrigued by the thought, Sebastian shrugged. "While I have never encountered it, I suppose there could be some truth to it," he said.

Somewhat satisfied with his answer, she continued. "Can you die?" she asked, hesitantly.

He poured the batter from the bowl into a series of round pans. "I am aware that there are ways to kill a demon," he admitted.

She felt a bit shocked at his honesty. "Should you be telling me all of this?"

An eyebrow shot up in amusement. "Why?" he teased. "Are you planning on killing me?"

She gasped. "No!" she quickly answered.

He chuckled at her indignation. "Then I see no reason not to answer your questions."

She threw a dishcloth at him, which he easily caught. "What's Hell like?"

That definitely surprised him. "Why would you want to know about that?" he demanded.

She shrugged. "Curiosity?" she tried.

He shot her an unconvinced look. "Vanessa."

She giggled. "Alright, morbid curiosity."

He shook his head, although she noticed a small smile curling the corners of his mouth. "The Hell that humans envision and the Hell where demons make their home are two entirely different places."

She fell silent, absorbing his words, then, "Is it...nice?"

He laughed. "It's Hell, my love. What do you think?"

She blushed, ducking her head."I don't know, that's why I asked!" she protested.

"I would hope you didn't know what Hell is like," he teased. "Or are you the one keeping secrets now?"

She refused to look at him, her blush spreading down her neck. "Oh, shut up, Sebastian!" she grumbled, making him laugh even more.

After spending the entire day shadowing her husband in order to ask him questions, the pair retired to the cottage that night. Using his demonic speed, the butler had finished the last of his chores in a moment's notice.

Vanessa was nervous as they dressed for bed. She had purposely waited for night to ask Sebastian what she was about ask, mainly because she knew it was a bit of a touchy subject.

They climbed under the covers, positioning themselves upon the soft mattress. Vanessa lay on her back, her head slightly propped up on the pillows, while Sebastian lay on his side, facing her. His head rested upon his hand, his arm bent to support him.

They stared at one another for a moment before she reached up to gently touch his cheek. "Tell me," she said, softly.

He began his tale, telling her about his parents, Gianni, and growing up by the sea. He recalled the first time he'd dreamed of her, and the more he remembered as he grew.

His eyes became distant the more he got lost in his memories, and all she could do was listen, fascinated by his history.

A slight frown appeared on his face when he talked of Brielle and their marriage, but disappeared when his sons were mentioned. Vanessa felt a pang in her heart when she saw the joy on her husband's face when he told her some of Mordecai's and Damascus' more entertaining childhood escapades.

She would never be able to give her husband the same joy, and at that moment of realization, she found herself jealous of Brielle.

"My love, what is it?" Sebastian asked, noticing the tears in her eyes.

She sniffles. "I'm being ridiculous," she murmured, turning to bury her face into his chest.

He relished her touch and gently ran his fingers through her hair. "Sweetheart, tell me," he whispered.

"Did you love her?" she asked, playing with the buttons on his shirt.

"Brielle?" His body stiffened.

"I know you said she was a horrible person, but I saw the happiness on your face when you spoke about your sons. She gave you that happiness; surely you cared about her."

He brushed her hair away from her face and gently lifted her chin so their eyes could meet. "As I told the Young Master, I felt concern for her as another human being, but she was never able to make me feel anything beyond that."

"But-"

"It's always been you, Vanessa," he told her, firmly. His eyes intensely bore into hers, unwavering. "Earl Phantomhive would argue that you were my downfall," he added.

"I don't understand." She reached up to cup his cheek.

The rest of his story spilled out making him frown and her cringe. He barely registered the horror on her face as he remembered dying, too lost in the memory.

Azarias, Michael, his rage and anger, all were confessed, leaving Vanessa slightly breathless. By the end of it, she was clinging to him, her hands fisted in the material of his shirt.

"Did it hurt?" she finally whispered. The fire had died down, leaving the room in a dim glow.

"It did," he answered.

"But, how is it that you look the same? Demons aren't supposed to have bodies."

"You are thinking of the original Fallen," he explained. "They were never able to gain mortal bodies. Demons that are made were once human and so the change is more internal."

"And your soul?"

"I no longer possess it." He felt her stiffen at his confession. "With the absence of the soul, a loss of humanity accompanies it. That is why demons appear so cold and brutal."

"You don't seem to be," she pointed out.

"Looks can be deceiving, love," he countered. He thought back to lives past and the humans he had easily tricked and manipulated.

"But, you don't," she insisted.

Sebastian sighed. "I've learned to adapt, sweetheart," he finally said.

His answer made her frown, her forehead creased as her eyebrows furrowed. "So," she said, ever so slowly, "you really don't love me?"

He openly balked at her. "How can you say that?" he demanded, almost furiously. He pushed himself up into a sitting position, trying hard not to glare at her. Was she still so unsure of his love for her?

"You just said that you've lost both your soul and your humanity," she shot back, also sitting up. "How is it then that you can feel anything for me?"

He took a moment to compose himself, even though his heart was pounding in his ears. "Let me rephrase:" he suggested, calmly, "the loss isn't absolute; even demons are able to retain some humanity. But, most choose not to acknowledge or act upon the weaker characteristics."

"Weaker?" she repeated, still frowning. "You mean love and compassion, those characteristics?"

He nodded. "Yes."

"But, you are. Acting upon them, I mean."

Again, he nodded. "I am."

"I wonder though." Her expression suddenly turned to thoughtful.

"Wonder about what?" he asked, warily.

She shifted towards him, easily crossing her legs as she sat among the pillows and blankets of their bed. "If demons reject the attributes that are considered weak," she said, "I wonder if what you feel for me is...fabricated."

He jerked, startled by her observation. "How so?"

"You said once that my soul, because of what I now am, entices demons."

"Yes."

"Could it be that you're mistaking your desire for my soul for love?"

He pounced upon her, pinning her to the bed with his body. She'd only begun to gasp in surprise when his hand cupped her cheek, his gaze intense as his nose brushed hers. "Never doubt my love for you, Vanessa," he told her, firmly. "What I feel for you began far before this earth was created and has endured since then. The scent of your soul-" He abruptly stopped.

"Sebastian?" she squeaked as he shoved his face into the crook of her neck and deeply inhaled. She felt his body stiffen.

He didn't answer as his head moved to the other side of her neck and repeated his actions. She squealed when she felt his nose brush in between her breasts, sniffing at her skin. She giggled when his tongue lapped at the sensitive spot behind her ear and on instinct, she swatted his shoulder.

His face appeared above her, looking completely and utterly baffled.

"What is it?" she asked, confused.

"You do not smell."

"Um, thank you?"

The corner of his mouth lifted slightly upwards. "Your unique scent is gone," he clarified.

Her eyes rounded in realization. "Oh, that."

"Yes?" Why was she being so nonchalant?

"Michael told me he is able to erase my scent whenever he is with me," she explained. "He says it's only temporary."

Sebastian was stunned. "How temporary?"

"I'm not sure," she admitted, "and neither is he. I suppose it's why he did it last night when we returned and again this morning before I joined you."

"Did he say why he's doing it?"

"To keep me safe."

"Nothing more?"

"Is there a better reason than that?"

He chuckled at her frowning expression. "No, I suppose not," he said.

But, as they continued to talk into the early morning, wrapped in one another's arms, Sebastian couldn't help but feel unsettled. He was a demon, Michael was an angel, an angel that he shared a minute, yet anger-filled past with; why would an angel do something that would benefit someone such as himself?