Hi everyone. Sorry it has been so long I have been really sick and trying to get better. This chapter did not come easily I will tell you and a I should warn you the last thousand word or so are kinda from a dark sleepless night and well I will roll with the punches as they come. Also there is mention of rape in this chapter, on a side note this fic will have rape, torture and other bad things happening to good people so I am sorry if that offends anyone. Alright enough of me blabbering on with the show.

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Chapter 5

January 12, 1876

The return to the country manor was slowed several days by the severe winter storm that hit London in the days following the end of the holidays on January 5th. As it was they didn't arrive until late on the 12th and Vincent was gladder to see his ancestral seat then he'd ever thought he'd be. Having Sir Charles as a father had never lent him towards warmth for the place but having been amongst the rabble of London had worn him thin.

Tanaka and the servants greeted them at the door; the old man bowed low then followed exactly one step behind him on the left with Marcus, his butler, on the right. They walked not with the rest of the family and staff towards bed but to Vincent's main study. They arrived in the room that could not be described as anything but masculine with its dark woods and brown leather and Vincent felt the stress of the world fade away.

His study, not his father's which had been three doors to the left, was a place he could come to hide from everyone but still get his work done. It was not a well-known fact but he, Earl Vincent Phantomhive, didn't like to be around people besides his wife and children. In fact, Marcus, Tanaka, and Chlaus were the only living souls to know that secret, his beloved mother having died in '66. Vincent sat heavily in his chair as the two men began puttering around the room.

Marcus busied around with the tea kettle while Tanaka began placing items in front of him, each item going in a specific place which denoted what it was. Just as the butler laid out the tested teacup the steward seated himself in the leftmost chair of the pair that sat before his cherry wood desk. Vincent took a sip of the perfectly prepared tea before setting the cup on its saucer and fixing the old man with an expectant look.

"My lord," Tanaka began, his steady voice another calming part of the ambiance. "It would seem Herr Diedrich has returned safely to the mainland after his departure on the 3rd. As well the Marquess Midford has sent another letter asking for an arrangement to be made between young Master Hadrian and the Lady Elizabeth."

"Midford," Vincent snorted. Perhaps because he was married to Francis the man often forgot who held the real power between them, titles be damned. As it was Alexis Midford had been hounding him to set the match but the earl refused to let his eldest marry for less than love. He remembered the moment he met Rachel far too well to allow his heir to suffer any other fate.

Besides Hadrian was destined to be the next Guard Dog and thus would take over the family fortune. As a second son, Ciel would need an influential wife so as to help his brother and bar the daughter of a Duke the Lady Midford was the best catch. Perhaps to others it would look odd that he was favoring his youngest in the match but they would be the ones to fall before him and Hadrian.

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July 31, 1878

Hadrian was not excited about his birthday but he put on a smile for his mother and brother. Ciel was almost three and had him wrapped around those chubby little fingers, he would do just about anything for that kid. There was just something about those bright blue eyes that called to him, that said protect, not unlike with his own children.

As it was said boy had been put down by the umpteenth nanny of the year and Hadrian had vacated the nursery in an attempt to avoid his mother who was insistent that he go to the 'family' party that was taking place out on the lawn. That she had almost smiled when she said family meant that his mother had invited the Midfords, who well already family would be more closely tied to them when Ciel married Elizabeth 'call me Lizzie' Midford. Hadrian had never been so glad to have a compassionate father than when he was informed that his brother would be marrying their first cousin instead of himself. The thought had sent a shiver down his spine, and that was before he'd ever met the dame. As it turned out little Lizzie was obsessed with all things cute and agreed with him that Ciel was the cuter of the two of them.

Hadrian was just turning a corner on his way to the library when his mother all but snatched him up from behind. He turned his head slowly and glared at her smiling face but she seemed undaunted even as she struggled to hold his weight. After several minutes of a stare down his mother finally relented and set him back on his feet, only she refused to let go of his hand.

"Come along now Darling." She had laughter in her voice as she pulled gently at his hand. Hadrian looked down the hall toward the library for a fleeting second but sighed and followed the woman towards the lawn party. The bright summer day greeted them as they crossed out of the manor and he had to shield his eyes from the sun.

"Rachel, my sister, seems you found the rascal." A chiming voice was followed by the appearance of the nearly iridescent red hair that could only belong to his Aunt An. Hadrian scowled and tugged free of his mother's hold so that he could cross his small arms. The display caused both women to raise a hand to cover their smiles as the three continued down a side path toward the 'small' side lawn.

"How are classes going?" His mother asked her sister while they were still some ways from the party. The woman in question almost tripped over her feet in surprise causing a new round of laughter in the strawberry-blond.

"Classes have been both easy and difficult." His aunt said as she fiddled with her gloved hands. Hadrian looked at her and could see the hurt in her red eyes. "I admit that the classes themselves are the easy part."

"Then what is the difficulty?" The blue-eyed woman quired. Angelina bit her lip and turned her head away before looking back at her sister; the both of them ignored him but he too wanted to know what had her so off put.

"It is just that I am the first female to make it so far. Really it is thanks to Vincent that I was even accepted into the program and it can be daunting." The redhead pressed her lips together in shame and bowed her head slightly. Hadrian felt the tiny amount of magic he had managed to cultivate slip from his grasp and he was sure that if either adult had looked at him his eyes would have glowed as the wind swirled around them. He paused in walking to catch his breath and reign in the wild magic that he could feel rage in the sweep of the breeze.

"Oh sister," his mother sighed with a fond smile. She reached down and grabbed his aunt's hand in her own. "You will do fine An. There has been a need for a female doctor amongst the peerage for a long time and I just know you will be the person to fill the role."

Hadrian too believed in his aunt but words escaped him as the magic bucked and fought to wreak vengeance on those who had, however minorly, hurt someone who was his. A shiver ran up his spine as the possessiveness that had surfaced more than once in his life clawed at his belly. Angelina Dalles would achieve her dream, if the blue-black haired boy had to use every ounce of magic at his disposal to make it sure of it, so be it. The wind finally settled deep in his soul and in the world around the manor as the trio approached the group already located on the lawn.

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March 14, 1879

Rachel smiled sadly as she walked amongst the late spring roses that bloomed on the Phantomhive country estate. Vincent and Angelina were away to London as they often were, Hadrian was in the manor with his third tutor of the year and Ciel was taking a nap in the nursery leaving her to her wandering and melancholy. She had found herself prone to such emotions more and more often as the years rolled by.

The strawberry-blonde walked with a straight back through the flower beds even though inside she wanted to sink to the ground and cry. She had no reason to feel that way; she had a loving husband, a doting sister and two wonderful sons. A sob bubbled in her throat at the thought of her children. Thoughts of Hadrian and Ciel should not have brought her to tears but as the years passed and she did not conceive a third child…

Rachel suspected that her husband was pleased that she had not fallen pregnant again; after all, things had never been quite the same as before that day in his study when she had seen the dark flutter in his brown eyes. There was a certain stiffness in his arms, a distance in his eyes and a twist to his smiling lips. Oh that was not to say that they were not still in love but that love seemed tempered with a bitterness and she was not sure Vincent even realized that it was there.

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August 19, 1879

Vincent was at his wits end; not only with the bloody heat that seemed to seep into every room of the manor but also because it had been four years since he had been attacked. He had searched the entirety of the British Isles and the colonies; either in person or by proxy did not matter, where one of his pawns went so to did he, for he was the shadow beneath which the underworld existed. He slammed the glass in his hand against his desk, the bourbon sloshed over the side and created a puddle on the cherrywood surface.

A snarl touched his lips as he thought of how he could have died, him… The Earl of Phantomhive, the Queen's Watchdog and the proprietor of Funtom Toys. Vincent hated thinking about it, of leaving his children alone in the cruel world that he was a part of.Oh, he knew without a doubt what would have happened to his beloved Rachel, torn apart in her grief by Phantomhive enemies and poor Ciel would have never have been born. However, he feared most for Hadrian, wonderful but odd Hadrian, who would have been taken by the Queen to raise as he had been in the final days of his own youth but, unlike him, his little boy would have been too young to protect himself from the many enemies he would have found in Buckingham Palace.

He was not dead, some days he had to remind himself of that, and both his boys would grow up loved and cared for if he had anything to do with it. He could feel the darkness draping over him as he swore to do the best he could to protect his precious children. Vincent Phantomhive would move heaven and earth for his family and at that moment the biggest threat to them was the mystery man who had stabbed him. The thought of the blurry blond figure sent his blood flowing red hot and he downed the rest of the bourbon.

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October 31, 1879

Angelina shook as she lay where they had left her. She hurt, hurt from their hands, their words and their… She could not think the word, even after what had happened… A sob boiled in her chest but she forced it back, she could not give in yet, not until she was safely back in her London house.

No… Not the house, they would know she would go there for safety. They might follow her back and there really was no way of knowing what they might do if they caught her a second time. She sat up slowly, her ruby hair falling in shorn locks around her. They had not even left her that, the thing she had both loved and hated. She grit blood-stained teeth and levered herself to her knees; each movement caused agony to course through her very core, blood flowed from her bare body and stained the pavement.

Finally, Angelina staggered to bruised feet and with an iron will she shuffled across the filthy ally she had been dumped in. Her clothes lay ripped and soiled in a pile of something she would rather not think about. She dressed with infinite care as to her wounds and the rot that covered the garments, and when she was as dressed as she could be she edged to the ally mouth and peeked her head out.

Not a single person was present on that street and the high moon told her that the evening was well into its cup. A weight lifted from her shoulders when she spotted a nearby street sign that said she wasn't too far from her destination. She dragged herself from one shadow to another, not wanting anyone she knew to see her in such a state. It seemed to take forever and the sun was not long from rising when she heaved herself up the back steps and began knocking. The door opened quite rudely to reveal a startled cook.

"My God!" the cook exclaimed far too loudly at the sight of Angelina, no doubt because she had scared a few years off the poor servant's life. "Miss Angelina, what? What has happened to you?"

The redhead tried to speak but her throat was damaged from screaming and cursing. She placed a hand on the door to steady herself as the world around her began to swim. A great wave of darkness caused her knees to buckle and sent her careening to the floor. Only she felt strong arms came around her at the last second, she was carried inside and upstairs all while her world fluttered in and out.

She lay in a dark room for a long time before two people entered, one of them set a candle on her bedside and began to undress her. At the feeling of cold callused hands touching her skin, Angelina came to life. Her fingers became claws, her teeth were as knives; she would not let them hurt her again. She would not be a victim a second time; strong arms wrapped around her and she fought, fought until she could not breathe for the fury and sickness she felt at another's touch.

"Hush, Angelina…" A voice whispered in her ear and she went limp. A sob bubbled in her once again and the arms tightened their hold, no doubt trying to hold her together as she fell apart. She was safe; she had never felt so safe as she did then cradled in the arms of the darkness that would forever haunt her. The last thing she heard before unconsciousness took her was the dark croon of words that filled her with peace. "They will pay, dear Angelina, every last one will rue this injustice brought upon you."

Oh, Vincent.

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October 31, 1879

Strange nightmares had plagued Hadrian in the days leading up to Halloween, ones that no amount of half-cocked divination could interpret. So it was no surprise to him that he woke that day nearly crippled with the wrongness. Something had happened in the dead of the night, something that set every one of his nerves on fire. He took several deep breaths and focused on his magic, magic that had grown exponentially since his birthday.

It sung beneath his skin and begged to be unleashed, to reek havoc on the world. He licked dry lips and with his mind still connected to his magic set it free. The energy raced from him, out into the world and charged toward London. It followed trails of itself, left on people he cared for and emerged in a familiar townhouse.

The wrongness, the error in his world, lay heavily upon the house. It was like a being near a Horcrux all over again; with the film of slimy, wanton desire and the edge of death. His magic surged through the floor into a dark bedchamber and made a beeline for the bed. As they got closer Hadrian could make out the image of his Aunt Angelina; only her hair was cut short and her face was covered in bruises.

Rage boiled in the blue-black haired boy, so perhaps he was not quite as gentle as he should have been as he entered the sleeping woman's mind. The first scene was one of fear; Angelina was running down an empty London street, from behind her came the bay of men too deep in their cup. The scene changed; she was pressed bodily against a wall as someone ripped at her clothes with dull fingernails.

The third scene was of faces; only with each face came a name and soon he had a list of ten. He withdrew more gently and with his magic squashed the tiny budding tendrils of life that tried to make their way into his aunt. Finally the magic, still little more than wind, flowed out of the window after faces with names. Hadrian floated through London with his magic as the day grew brighter and when he reached each man who had hurt his aunt he allowed his magic to whisper over them.

It did not whisper of death, no, instead it murmured of misfortune. The first of many small ones that would change their lives until they begged for death. That each man who had sullied Angelina Dallas would never practice medicine was the least of it. They would squirm for him for years and somewhere in the back of their minds, they would wonder if it all lead back to that moment when they took what they could never give back.

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So how did you like it please let me know.

~Storm