Author's Note: Another chapter, another 2,000 words of drowning in homoerotic subtext and angst. Hi, my name is Mary, I'm trash, nice to meet you.
IF FOR SOME REASON YOU IGNORED THE NOTICE ON THE LAST CHAPTER: I HAVE EDITED EVERYTHING. PLEASE REREAD THE PREVIOUS CHAPTERS.
Chapter Eight: I've Paid My Price
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Ciel's parents are dead.
It isn't as difficult to come to terms with as he thought it would be.
His parents are dead. Their graves are in a courtyard next to thousands of others, including his own empty one ("May the Lord find him in his straying and shepherd him through His gates"). It's almost unnerving to see his name etched into the slab of marble alongside his dead family.
The graveyard is surrounded by intricate iron gates that creak as Ciel eases them open, butler following after him silently as a shadow.
He stands before his parents for the first time since their death, and he does so in a ragged nightshirt and the company of a demon. It is without a doubt improper, but Cielā¦
He doesn't want to be alone, anymore.
"Mother. Father." He greets, voice steady as it ever has been. He refuses to dance around the topic at hand. "I should have saved you." It comes out harsher than he had meant it, more spat than confessed.
He has paid his penance for not rescuing his family. He wears the price of living in the brand on his back and the seal in his eye.
And yet the guilt of being the sole survivor is still undeniably suffocating.
"I will avenge you."
The words are heavy with intent, and Sebastian slinks a possessive arm around his waist at their utterance, bending down until his mouth is level with the boy's neck.
"My lord," he rasps, impossibly sharp canines scraping at the delicate skin at Ciel's throat. The child swallows and crimson eyes follow the motion hungrily. "If you wish to keep your soul much longer, you will not say such things in my presence. Not while my form is still so volatile."
Ciel very nearly chokes on his tongue. All semblance of propriety vanishes with the demon's closeness, effectively ruining what was meant as a heartfelt farewell.
His shame quickly gives way to anger.
"Sebastian." The boy barks, voice far colder than it had been mere moments prior. "Off." His lip curls up in a snarl and it sends the demon flying off of him like a wounded dog.
New contracts must be especially potent, if the effect they have on such a powerful demon is so strong. He is strong.
He is strong, and free, and he is not alone.
Salty tears of relief flow from his cheeks and settle into the various cuts on his body. He's so giddy that he can hardly feel the sting.
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"So that's what he meant by us," mutters a certain socially-awkward angel to himself.
Dean turns around to find himself mere inches away from Castiel's face and releases a long-suffering sigh. "Cas. We've talked about this before, remember?" He gestures between the two of them. "Personal bubble, dude."
Castiel's forehead wrinkles, brows furrowed in thought. "Ah, I apologizeā¦" he mumbles, stepping back slightly to allow for Dean's space issue.
"So what did you mean by that?" Dean inquires once there's a respectable amount of space between them.
"In the last memory Ciel mentioned that he wanted revenge on those that did such horrible things to 'us.' I assume that whoever kidnapped him also murdered his parents and burned the house."
"Well, it seems that today's youth hasn't fully lost hope," chuckles Sebastian from within the Devil's Trap.
"I am hardly young," Castiel intones, crystal eyes burning into the demon's. "This vessel is the only reason why you don't burn at the sight of me."
"What a sight that would be. An angel cast out of Heaven defeating a demon cast out of Hell."
The air thickens, the pair never breaking eye contact and Sebastian smirking as he continues to pet his master's hair.
Creepy, Sam thinks, and shudders. But when have demons ever cared about weirding people out?
Castiel scowls and averts his eyes, and Sebastian notches another point for himself on his mental scoreboard.
Angels: 2,399 - Demons: 2,400
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It is not until the sun has long since set behind them and evening has become night that Ciel and his butler leave the graveyard.
"Your health is already fragile, my lord," a silky voice chastens, gloved hands pressing on the boy's clothed shoulders.
Ciel flinches, his whole body jerking at the contact, but he relaxes slightly, remembering himself. The hands on him are demon, not human.
"The manor has been prepared for your return."
"Prepared?"
"Of course. Restored to its former glory, as promised."
Demons can do anything asked of them, he realizes, and almost smiles.
"You truly are a miracle, aren't you?" The earl mutters under his breath in reverence. His butler doesn't show any signs of having heard, for which Ciel is grateful. He can't have a demon thinking of him as weak, being impressed by such parlor tricks.
"I've taken the liberty of drawing you a bath, young master."
"A bath?" Ciel repeats stupidly, the notion sounding too good to be true. "Don't just stand there!" He snaps after a beat of silence. "Take me to it!"
The monster chuckles and leads Ciel up a familiar path, up through gardens and past gates that only a few hours ago were burnt to the ground and rusted, respectively.
Phantomhive Manor is as beautiful as he thought it would be, and it seems to glow in the moonlight, promising comfort and warmth.
He huffs a breath of incredulous laughter as the heavy doors are pushed open by his butler. Details of before his parents' death- little things that no one ever noticed and that Sebastian couldn't possibly know- all there, restored to their former glory and gleaming, brand-new but just as he remembered.
The boy practically glides up the stairway, tailed by his servant.
"My lord? If I recall correctly, it was I who was to lead you to the bath."
"Nonsense," Ciel scoffs, already envisioning the claw-footed tub brimming with warm water. He takes confident strides into the master bedroom and then to the attached washroom.
It truly is a sight for sore eyes. Steam rolls off the water in great curls- the demon hadn't been lying when he'd said it was ready.
The shirt he's wearing is practically ripped off in his haste to get in the bath, and before Sebastian can even ask him to slow down, he's up to his chin in bubbles, small frame almost completely submerged in the bathwater.
At first the heat is welcome, penetrating the cold with ease.
But it just gets hotter.
And hotter.
"Demon," Ciel begins coolly, drawing himself up out of the water so as not to be scalded. "Do you even know how to properly heat baths?"
"Of course."
"Obviously you don't, otherwise you would not be attempting to boil me!" He pulls his hand back and shoves forward, making hot water splash all over the butler.
Sebastian, to his credit, doesn't flinch, and takes the abuse like a man, er, like a demon.
"I think I'll wash myself, from now on, until you learn how to find a proper bathing temperature."
Sebastian frowns at this.
"But sir-"
"Out, Sebastian."
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"Ain't you supposed to be the perfect butler? Fulfilling dreams, granting wishes, all that shit?" Bobby asks, adjusting his cap.
Sam sniggers with Dean while Sebastian just glares at the whole lot of them, even Cas (especially Cas), who had taken it upon himself to sit on the floor and hum quietly to the tune of some Metallica song or another.
"I had, at the time, not been to the human world in some thousand years and had grown unused to human customs. You must also realize that demons do not have the same senses as humans do. All perception is heightened to unbelievable standards. What is hot to humans is not necessarily hot to me."
Dean refrains from making a crude joke at this.
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"Young master?"
One knock.
Two knocks.
"My lord, you've been in there for quite some time, now."
Three knocks.
No response.
Sebastian opens the door.
Ciel is asleep in the bath.
The child must be very tired, to have fallen asleep after making such a great fuss. Sebastian removes his gloves and rolls his sleeves up, grabbing a washcloth and pulling the boy up to a sitting position.
Ciel jerks violently and screams, "No, don't touch me, no, stop it!"
Sebastian draws back as quickly as if he had been burned. Ciel quiets and, cheeks burning in shame from having thought his butler was a threat, tries to take the cloth from Sebastian's hands.
"I told you I can wash myself."
Sebastian holds the cloth out of Ciel's reach.
"Please, sir, you're tired. Allow me to wash your body."
Hands, touching, rubbing, lingering. Clutching at his arms, gripping at his thighs. Long nails biting into the flesh of his back, clawing 'til it bleeds. Touching on, around, inside. Laughter as he cries.
Something in his expression must look complacent, because the demon starts scrubbing him pink, running the washcloth across Ciel's body in circular motions. Ciel's eyes glaze over slightly and he is very nearly back there, the only anchor he has to reality the consistent, firm strokes of cloth against skin.
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There's a huge wardrobe of clean clothes awaiting him in the bedroom, and Sebastian patiently dresses him, despite Ciel's flinching as the demon's cold fingers graze his brand.
"You must get used to touching, my lord," Sebastian murmurs, tugging a sock up Ciel's leg and fastening it into place. "If we are to maintain the illusion of a proper master and servant."
"What I am and am not used to is none of your concern."
"It is my concern if you insist upon being a petulant child! As head of the house of Phantomhive, you're to grow up now, sir. You've no time to be throwing tantrums."
Ciel scowls before lowering his eyes to the floor, looking decidedly at his new shoes and not at his butler.
"You're right." He admits, and pushes himself off of the bed he was sitting on. "And as the head of the Phantomhive house, don't you think you ought to make me dinner?"
Sebastian smirks, and presses a hand to his chest in a gesture Ciel would eventually come to accept as the demon's trademark.
"Yes, my lord."
When Ciel descends the stairs a few minutes later, the dining room table is set with a huge spread of various meals, each one extravagant and fit for a king.
"So on top of not knowing how baths work, you also seem uncomprehending of how starvation is handled."
"Why, whatever do you mean? I took the time in making you a meal, and you sit here ungrateful? Awfully childish of you, wouldn't you say?"
Ciel shoots Sebastian an unamused look.
"Don't be snide. You're a butler, not a nanny. But surely you know that after starving one can't eat such rich things, if anything at all?"
Sebastian has the decency to feign sheepishness before clearing away the food in the blink of an eye.
"I suppose I've learned, then." He replaces the heavy dinner with a light soup and savory biscuits.
"Evidently, you haven't," Ciel sighs. "Normal butlers can't rebuild mansions in a single night, nor cook a feast in the blink of an eye. Guests to the house will get suspicious, you realize."
"So you wish for me to do things step-by-step, as a human would?"
"Whenever possible, yes. Or at least pretend to. Humans can't make things without the proper ingredients."
"I see." Sebastian looks thoughtful, as if having had never considered this before.
Ciel spoons a bit a soup into his mouth and nearly picks the bowl up to slurp the whole lot of it in one go. It makes him a bit sick to eat, but anything to put a dent in the hunger.
After he finishes the soup and crackers, he wipes his mouth daintily and excuses himself to the bedroom, where he slips off his shoes and collapses onto the bed, soft and warm for the first time in God-knows-how-long.
Sebastian comes in shortly after the boy has fallen asleep, blows out the candles, and tucks the covers in around the sleeping child.
"Good night, my lord." And he closes the door.
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