Author's Note: Okayyyy so this one gets a tad… boy-lovey. It flat-out implies a physical relationship between the demons… You can take it platonically, maybe? If you really wanna? God, I'm such a worthless fangirl sometimes...

Chapter Two: Taken


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Ciel's scowl refuses to fade as he watches the two rough-looking men enter the mall and walk out of sight. Without removing his steel gaze, he hesitantly takes a step away from the shopping center, but doesn't take another.

"Sebastian," the boy mumbles to his butler, "I have a strange feeling about those men."

Sebastian only nods and presses a hand to the small of his master's back, silently urging him forward.

"Don't presume to touch me."Ciel snaps, and he is, after everything, still a child.

"Of course, my lord. My apologies," Sebastian assures, not sounding sorry at all.

"Never touch me in such a way again, dog." He growls, deeming it inappropriate for the older demon to even dare to lay hands on him.

The youngest demon's lips twist even further when his butler gives a small, knowing smirk. ("Are you sure, master? You seem to quite like it when I touch you here.") Traditional rules of the covenant do not apply to humans turned demon.

Oh yes, Sebastian and his little lord are still bound to be servant-and-master for all eternity (a fact that vexes Sebastian to no end), but the elder demon is no longer compelled to follow Ciel's each and every wish, instead possessing an odd trait known as 'free will'.

Taking full advantage of this loophole, Sebastian simply shrugs in response.

Nearly shaking with anger and not wanting to be defied even further, Ciel changes the subject. His tone is decidedly unaffected. If the butler doesn't care, he doesn't either. "I want you to find out who those two men are. Meet me back here in fifteen minutes. That's an order."

"We'll be late for teatime, my lord-"

"An order, Sebastian."

Deciding that games of this type are far more interesting with his meeting of Ciel's every demand, Sebastian nods and dips into a shallow bow. "Yes, my lord."

In the blink of an eye, the butler disappears. Another thing that Ciel finds himself envying- Sebastian's speed and strength did not transfer over to him, only the more useless things like requiring souls for sustenance and advanced senses. He is still just a fragile little plaything, with a need for protection and a penchant for being broken.

After a few moments of staring at the spot where Sebastian just stood, Ciel deeply sighs, a sudden sense of boredom striking him. With a small huff, he looks about at his surroundings as if something entertaining will suddenly appear.

Slightly disappointed, he stiffly strides down the outside of the mall to a relatively shady spot along the back side. With an irritated cluck of his tongue, he crosses his arms and leans against the rough concrete building. After shifting his shoulders in a futile attempt to get into a more comfortable position, he simply gives up and closes his eyes, allowing his head to gently thump backwards.

Just as he is on the brink of dozing off- something he often finds himself indulging in- the quiet sound of feet walking catch his attention, undetectable to anyone without demon hearing. Peeking open an eye, he coolly maintains his composure. After just over a century of practice, he perfected his acting skills; ergo not moving an inch from his position as the two men from earlier approach.

Dean and Sam, if Ciel recalls correctly, anxiously glance around themselves and keep their hands buried in their pockets. The demon knows that look and is immediately set on edge, hair prickling along the back of his neck. If they try anything he'll run as fast as his legs can carry him- if he called for Sebastian, all the bastard would do was laugh at him.

"Did you perhaps come to harass a child again?" Ciel taunts, looking up at them through half-closed eyes as they stop a foot away from him.

"Actually, he came to formally apologize," Sam replies, gesturing to Dean.

"Yeah, sorry about that run-in earlier," Reassures the other man, rocking back on his heels. "No hard feelings?"

Ciel sneers at the proffered hand. It's filthy, and smells of blood and sweat and other things that hurt his sensitive nose. He gives the shorter man one last judgmental look, trying desperately to convey how much he doesn't want to touch him, before shaking his hand.

"I suppose-"

Before Ciel can even get the chance to run, Dean pulls him forward. A strong arm wraps around his middle while another yanks around his neck, cutting his scream and air circulation off.

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Sebastian snaps open his pocket watch for the second time in the last five minutes, one of the few things that annoy him to no end- being off schedule. With a grunt of disapproval, he closes the watch and returns it to the front pocket of his pants.

If his master hasn't arrived at the designated spot yet, then he certainly won't arrive later, and Sebastian has his suspicions that Ciel has gotten caught up in something troublesome. Again.

Lord, it was deja-vu from Ciel's human life- the brat gets kidnapped, Sebastian saves him, Ciel silently blames him for being so slow.

Turning his back to the glaring sun, Sebastian breaks into an inhumanly fast sprint, a blur to anyone who happens to catch a glimpse of him. The bordering state of South Dakota is his destination.

If his hunch is correct (which he, of course, knows it to be), he'll have to pay a visit to a certain friend of a certain pair of young brothers.

Hell hath no fury like a butler without his master.

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The world is warm and hazy when Ciel regains consciousness. Through drooping eyes and sticky lashes, he can make out sunlight illuminating a collage of earthy colors. As his vision and mind clears he realizes that the colors compose the rotting walls of an empty, spacious room. The brown timber that make up the floor and walls is only disrupted by the orange and green mold speckling the room, and a vibrant red pentagram crudely drawn on the floor beneath him.

He attempts to move forward- to leave this strange place- but finds he's stuck. More specifically, tied up. A pair of handcuffs hangs loosely around his right wrist and connects him to the arm of the wooden chair he is confined in. Thick, itchy bundles of burlap rope strap his other arm and both of his ankles to the chair.

A grunt of effort escapes Ciel as he once again attempts to remove himself from his bonds.

"Bloody humans," he mutters angrily to himself. He begins to call out, leaning his head lazily against the back of the chair. "Haven't you class enough to come and speak with me? Perhaps inform me of why exactly I'm tied to a ruddy chair?"

His yelling is cut off when the only door in the room slams open. Just as he had suspected, the two men from earlier lumber in, a new man in a trench coat trailing after them like a lost puppy.

The one named Dean, if Ciel remembers correctly, is wearing an annoyed scowl.

"Yeesh, don't get your panties in a knot, Sleeping Beauty," he remarks as he begins to rummage for something in his pockets.

Sleeping Beauty? That's a Grimm fairy tale, is it not? Vaguely he remembers Elizabeth liking those. His mother reading them to him before bed…

That's a dangerous train of thought that Ciel decides he'd rather not pursue.

"I'm afraid I can't be Sleeping Beauty," he replies somewhat distantly. "This is far from a castle."

"Sorry to disappoint," Dean scoffs, finding whatever he was looking for in his pockets and pulling it out. It's a glass flask with a cork stopper, filled to the brim with what Ciel can only assume was some kind of vodka or rum (he can't imagine that anyone would have a flask and not fill it with alcohol- although he also isn't sure what use liquor would be in this situation).

He turns back to the other two men, "Are ya'll ready for this?"

Sam lets out a quiet snicker as if he just been told a particularly amusing joke and nods, biting his lip in a way that Ciel struggles to not find attractive (he always has been one to appreciate the beauty of the male form). The other dark haired man nods as well, grim look never wavering.

"Wait just a minute," Ciel snarls, not revealing any of the panic that creeps in the back of his mind. "Who are you and what do you want with me?" All four of the males freeze at this- one out of anticipation and three out of confusion.

"...You don't know who we are?" Sam questions as he waves the small, worn book he had pulled from his coat in his right hand. "You don't know us?"

The demon rolls his eye and matches their incredulous looks. "Do you think I would I be asking you if I knew? Or perhaps living in a dump like this has killed your brain cells."

Sam gestures to himself, Dean, and the unnamed man. "Aren't we on you guys' Most Wanted list?"

"'You guys'?' Who are you associating me with, exactly?" Certainly not the Phantomhives, as no one knows who they were in this century.

"You guys- demons." Sam answers, only to be met with a blank look from Ciel.

Dean sputters out a short laugh of disbelief. "You really aren't in Hell's little loop are you, kid?"

Ciel rolls his eyes with a sigh, quickly growing bored again. "Look, as much fun as it is to play twenty questions with you baboons, I would rather learn what you want from me so I can get out of this manky place."

"Well... we were going to nab some information from you about this whole Apocalypse crap..."

"Apocalypse?"

"...But you obviously don't know squat. So, exorcising you it is."

"Wait-"

Before Ciel can get out another word, Dean flicks his wrist and sends a splash of the liquid from the flask and onto his face. The demon cringes at the mild burning sensation. It feels like the time when Agni accidentally dropped his mixture of spices on him. Sam and the unnamed man both begin reciting something in Latin.

Though Ciel knows the language he can't decipher what they're saying; as soon as the words hit his ears his mind goes scrambling. The world becomes a concoction of swirling colors and white noise, the sensation of a fist making contact pounds his head and his gut.

Only one thought stands out in his brain with anything resembling clarity:

Definitely not vodka.

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Dean had taken it upon himself to put a stop to his brother's pacing.

"Hey, Sammy!" He calls to his brother across the room, who is currently taking long strides back and forth by the only window. "Getting worked up like that ain't gonna help, so why don't you just come back over here."

Sam stops mid-step to look at his brother dubiously, but after a beat he complies and returns to where Dean and Castiel are, easily side-stepping the source of his anxiety.

"What should we do?" the youngest Winchester questions, gesturing to the unconscious child-demon in the center of the room. "Nothing's working on him- salt, reciting, holy water. We can't afford to have a new kind of demon, one that'll possibly be used against us. Not this close to our deadline; you know that."

The three men each take a moment to stare at the demon, their thoughts a whirlwind of contemplation.

"Perhaps we need another opinion," Cas suggests, breaking the pregnant silence that hangs between them.

Dean nods in agreement and pulls out his cellphone. "I'll give Bobby a call, he'll be our best bet." As if on cue, his phone rings, blasting Enter Sandman. "Hello? Bobby? We were just talking about you. Listen-" He's cut off mid-sentence, frozen in horror.

Castiel and Sam immediately rush to his side. "Dean, what's wrong?"

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"My apologies, but I had to borrow your companion's cellular device for a moment," Sebastian speaks calmly into the phone, interrupting Dean. He takes a moment to glance down at the man whose head he holds a gun to. "I do believe you have something of mine."

Dean snarls his next words. "I swear to God, if you lay one finger on him-"

"Then I believe we are at a stalemate- an agreement if if you will. I assure you no harm will come to my hostage if no harm comes to yours."

"I'm assuming you want your little toy?"

"Quite so. Would you be so kind as to put my young master on the phone?"

"And why should I do that?"

"I assure you that have much more to lose than I do, so I suggest you do as I say."

There is a short pause, as if the hunter is mentally analyzing Sebastian's threat. "...Fine."

Sebastian waits patiently as scuffing noises and muffled voices come from the phone, making it obvious that the device is being passed around none too gently. When the noise stops, a familiar, albeit weak voice speaks.

"S-Sebast...ian?" The voice is thick and slurred, but undoubtedly his lord's. He ignores the little tremor of relief that wracks his body, and firmly resists the urge to cradle the phone closer.

"Good afternoon, Young Master. Do be patient and hang on a little longer. Now, I assume that you 'hunters' have put it on speaker, so listen up. Bring my lord to Bobby Singer's home and I shall leave this drunk unharmed."

As he speaks, he nudges the man in question distastefully with his foot, like one might prod at a particularly interesting specie of roadkill. Humans certainly are disgusting creatures.

He hangs up and begins to look around.

There are books, covering every surface, and in a whole range of languages and topics. It's really quite impressive, like the old man's trying to build himself a library about hunting monsters.

Monster.

The young lord is still quite touchy about that word, insisting that no, he and his butler are still capable of emotion and of empathy, and that most monsters, true monsters, tend to be human, thank you very much.

Sometimes Sebastian suspects that Ciel is still agonized over eating his first soul. It had been a relatively quiet affair, the desperate human in question requiring something Ciel gave to it within the hour, and then the contract was fulfilled. He'll never forget Ciel's eyes, wide and haunted, struggling with himself- torn between ecstasy and self-deprecation.

Not all his nightmares, the older demon is certain, are about the fire, not when the event happened over a century ago.

It isn't a butler's place to mention such things, though, so Sebastian merely cracks open a book, eyes occasionally flicking to his captive to make sure he isn't attempting escape, and reads.