Author's Note: Hey guys! Long time no see, ehehe… Don't hurt me, please.

Basically, in this chapter Ciel's a whiny, pampered lil bitch. It was fun to write.

P.S. If you haven't seen the notice on my profile, I'm not going to be able to update between May 16 and September 7, because I won't have the resources to post anything. I'm REALLY SUPER SORRY. On the bright side, that means when September 7 does roll around, I'll be posting everything I wrote over the summer all at once…

Chapter Nine: Nothing But A Spoilt Brat

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"Breakfast today was…" Ciel scowls, searching for the proper word. "Abysmal. It seems that you can't even master simple instructions. One wonders how you intend to be my butler if you fail at the most basic of tasks."

"I followed the recipe to the letter, my lord," Sebastian sighs, and snips away at Ciel's too-long hair. It feels like they've had this conversation a thousand times.

Ciel huffs and adjusts himself on the stool, bits of hair falling to the ground as he does so.

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"I don't think that I'll ever get used to seeing that on his eye," Dean murmurs, and Sam nods, deep in thought.

"Does it always have to be like that?" Sam inquires. Sebastian doesn't look surprised by the sudden question.

"On the eye?" The demon shakes his head, braiding and unbraiding bits of Ciel's hair like it's a common occurrence. The sheer familiarity is unnerving. "No, the seal can be placed anywhere on the summoner's body. The more visible the mark, the stronger the bond between predator and prey."

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Sebastian tilts his ward's head slightly to the right. Snip.

"There's much to be done today, my lord."

"Yes. I know little of this household, as my predecessor passed away before he could explain anything properly." This is sneered as though it's Ciel's father's fault that he was murdered and then set on fire in his own home.

"The household matters are a given, young master. As current head of the family, you must attain a wisdom and education that overcomes that of adults if you are to be taken at all seriously. High society preys on the weak, my lord. You will soon find that the worst monsters, sir, are plainly human."

Ciel's eye widens.

The butler adjusts a clip and Ciel's fringe falls in his face, trimmed neatly and looking quite professional. He straightens himself slightly, shrugging off the towel and standing, posture proud but wary as Sebastian brushes hair from his neck and clothes.

"There is a shameful amount of duties you've been unknowingly neglecting. Rival companies will exploit any weakness, including ignorance. Might I suggest hiring a governess-"

"No."

Sebastian chuckles and places the brush on a side table in order to rest his hands on Ciel's shoulders. He doesn't miss Ciel's shiver.

"Please, master. It's only practical."

"I don't wish to have anyone else in the manor right now. I won't have it."

"Sir, I only wish what's best for you. We have not yet reached the level of 'Earl and Butler'. We are to become as close to real thing as soon as possible. Besides," The demon smirks, eyes swirling red. He tilts his lord's chin up with a white-clothed thumb. "Such a frightened expression doesn't suit you."

Ciel smacks away Sebastian's hand.

"I hadn't realized I'd called for an advisor rather than a butler!"

He storms off, red-faced, and Sebastian lets him go.

He's vaguely aware that this is Ciel's version of a tantrum.

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Sam knows the kid had it hard. Really, he does. Being an orphan is a difficult life for anyone, and being tortured, so young…

He shudders to think of it.

But a beautiful house is a beautiful house is a beautiful house. Life for Ciel Phantomhive may not have been strictly easy, but compared to anything he and Dean have been through, compared to Hell, Purgatory, compared to dying, and God forbid he even think of his time in the Cage- but this isn't a game of "Who Can Top This".

Hunters have depressing childhoods, and honestly, Sam has yet to see something so sick and frightening that it could be used against the demons.

If they have to sort through all the boy's memories of the past two centuries, it's going to be a real snooze-fest.

Watching the various scenes unfold before him, he wonders if this Meatus Water is worth it.

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"Today's tea is Mariage Freres Darjeeling," Sebastian announces, and Ciel takes a cautious sip of the piping hot liquid.

He stares down at the intricately decorated teacup, eyes tracing the swirls and painted curlicues.

"Demon," Ciel begins coolly, twitching in annoyance. "Open your hands."

Sebastian, bemused, holds his hands out, palms up and opened.

SPLOOSH!

The little tyrant tosses the cup back on the table, careless of whether or not it breaks. Sebastian very carefully does not react to the boiling tea soaking his gloves and seeping into the carpet.

"What must I do to make you learn?! This isn't tea, this is just brown water! Start again!"

Sebastian's bow is stiff and jerky. What had he been thinking, saddling himself with this brat?

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Dean guffaws, clutching his stomach. The other hunters and angel can't help but smile at the sight.

Dean mimes wiping away a tear.

"Wow, Jeeves, you just got told by a kid. That takes skill!"

Sebastian's glare could burn holes through steel.

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"Young master, hunting is a gentleman's sport," Sebastian sings. "And, in your current state, you are no gentleman."

"Bite your tongue," Ciel snarls, and knows from his butler's raised brow that he's only proved Sebastian's point. "I'm willing to learn. That should be all that matters to you, dog."

"Agreed, sir," Sebastian dutifully replies, but any fool can see that he certainly does not agree.

Sebastian takes him outside that afternoon for target practice in the gardens.

"Draw in your chin, my lord, and aim carefully."(1) Ciel follows his butler's instructions as best he can, but even then the shot goes several feet wide of the target.

Sebastian braces himself for another incident like this morning's, waits for Ciel to stomp off or to throw the rifle on the ground, but Ciel just reloads and tries again.

And again.

And again.

And again.

"It seems that your dreams of hunting on horseback are simply that, young master. Dreams."

Ciel scoffs, the noise almost imperceptibly cracked. He's upset by this. Angry that he can't do it right. If he looks closely, there are tears of frustration shimmering in the master's visible eye.

It's funny. Humans are funny.

"Leave me to my work, Sebastian," Ciel bites out. Sebastian dips into a shallow bow and smiles indulgently.

"If you think it will help, young master."

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Dean remembers training.

"Eyes on the target, boy, 'less you lookin' to get bit."

"You ain't firing straight, soldier. You wanna die? You want Sam to die? Straighten up, then, shoulders back."

He remembers him and Sammy digging people-sized holes in the dirt, having Dad bury them and then have to dig themselves back out. With and without a casket, six feet underground.

Breaking fingernails drag grooves across wood, splinters dig into skin. Scritch scratch, scritch scratch. Clawing inch by inch out out the soil.

Dad's got them on a stopwatch timer. He's been sitting back with a beer for the past three hours waiting patiently for them to resurface.

"Gonna have to try harder than that, son. Gotta try harder than that."

There's something paternal about the way Sebastian teaches Ciel how to shoot, something soft that Dean sort of wishes he had had more of.

It's no good to be jealous of a demon kid, though, so for once Dean decides it might be better to keep quiet.

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Ciel stands before his butler turned tutor, pride the only thing keeping him from wringing his hands in nervous fright.

Sebastian has donned spectacles, and is examining Ciel's paper with a critical eye, making little 'mm-hmm' sounds every now and again that only serve to make the boy more anxious.

"Another mistranslation," Sebastian declares, pointing to a string of Latin on the page. "You're to write this as 'at first' not 'from the start'. Have you already forgotten that you made the same mistake yesterday?"

His smile is deceptively pleasant.

"Might I ask you to remove your ring, sir?" Ciel complies, unsure as to where exactly this is going.

"Yes, that's right. Open your hands, please."

If Sebastian plans to dump tea on Ciel's hands the way Ciel had done to him, there will be a problem.

Smack!

A ruler snaps down sharply on Ciel's open palms, making the boy release a small, indignant yelp.

"Transcribe the poems over until you can learn to translate correctly. Go on, then, begin!"

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Never mind.

Dean isn't jealous anymore, only sympathetic.

Latin lessons had been the bane of his existence. Fuck that, man. He's glad it's over.

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Inhuman screeches from the parlor.

The sickening squelch of knives burying themselves into raw flesh, imbedding into brain.

Ignore it.

The terrible cracking of bone.

The glass on the chandelier clinks together harshly. Sebastian's probably just swung himself from it, the show-off.

Just ignore it.

Screams so loud and bloodcurdling you'd think they were being tortured.

Ciel heaves an exasperated breath and flings the bedcovers from himself. Padding over to the door, he pokes his head through and shouts:

"Keep it down in there, why don't you? Some of us actually require sleep!"

Sebastian is covered in blood from head to toe, surrounded by intruders in all directions.

"I'm very sorry, my lord, but it seems as though one of your competitors has sent the equivalent of a small army to eliminate you, and they're being quite troublesome."

"I can't stand this every night! Next time I expect you to at least kill them quietly!"

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"Killing people for fun now, are we?" Bobby snorts.

Sebastian smirks and doesn't correct him.

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Run.

They're here. They've come back for me.

They're dragging me down with them.

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Ciel's body on the bed thrashes up, trembling. Castiel watches on in fascination as Sebastian stoops down, murmuring whispered nonsense to the child, hands gripping Ciel's tightly.

The sound of his voice and the warmth of his touch seems to sooth Ciel, even though he can't really hear him from how deep he's gone inside his own head. The shaking at least stops.

This is obviously something that has happened before.

Not the part where his memories are projected for everyone to see, but definitely the part where he relives them.

He has nightmares often, then.

Unfortunate.

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They're still here.

Laughing, crying, screaming.

Pulling me down to Hell.

His hands are too clean for what they've done, and now, in the candlelight, he can see the blood coating them, cherry red slick, dripping to his elbows and soaking through his shirt.

It's not real, he tells himself, but the thought never really settles, leaving him shaken and trying to wipe the blood off on his sheets. Phantom hands grab at him, churning his stomach. The blood still doesn't come off.

Betrayal, the voices hiss. You watched us die and did nothing.

"What could I have done?" Ciel cries, beseeches the spirits to let him be, just this once.

You only saved yourself. You've only ever saved yourself.

You should have died with your parents.

You should have died with us.

The words crawl up under his skin and rot there, the same thing he's been thinking since the whole mess began.

He feels sick.

We need you.

We miss you.

Come and see us, darling, won't you?

The voices have changed from the children to his parents.

This is worse, somehow.

All he can do is scream.

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Sam understands hallucinations. Perhaps better than anyone present.

It's hard to differentiate between dream and reality, sometimes.

And well, he's always been the emotional type ("You're such a huge girl sometimes, Sammy."), so really it's no surprise when he starts to feel the sympathy well up inside him and suddenly he isn't even sure he has the capacity to kill this poor kid,

He can't help but wonder who Ciel is talking to, though.

As if answering his unspoken question, Sebastian pipes up with an explanation, like always.

"As you know, my young Lord has seen death, but more than what you might think. He was not the only child being held captive. At the beginning of the two months, there were over two dozen children, but death picked them off one by one-"

"But if death was so frequent, how did Ciel survive?" Sam interrupts, half-expecting the answer to be dumb luck. The Winchesters certainly have enough of that to spare.

"His kidnappers had favored my young lord and picked him as the Chosen One. He was branded with the mark of the noble beast, demons, and was supposed to be the final sacrifice so they could call forth Satan himself."

Lucifer. All trails lead back to him, don't they?

Sam nods, lost in thought. "But you came, instead."

The hunter glances between the cowering Ciel who continues to talk to himself and hide under the comforter and the unconscious Ciel who's using his butler's lap as a pillow.

"Ironic," Cas chuckles hollowly. "He's saved by one horrific ending only to be damned to another."

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"Young master, are you all right?"

Unfamiliar. He doesn't know this voice, and no one here would ever call him 'young master'.

"W-Who are you?"

He cringes at the sound of his own voice. Stupid, you're not meant to talk to them. They hurt you if you talk to them.

A man, tall and lean, is suddenly at the foot of the bed. Ciel startles but the man's presence is somehow… comforting.

"My name is Sebastian. I am your butler."

It comes back to Ciel slowly, in pieces.

He's not in a cage, he's home, in bed, warm. His butler is here and he'll keep him safe- he's a demon, after all, and therefore immortal.

No, no harm will come to him tonight.

"Did you have a bad dream again?"

He swallows. Weak.

"Y-Yes."

Sebastian nods, almost to himself.

"What action would you like me to take? Perhaps a glass of milk? Or shall I leave a candle lit?"

Ciel grits his teeth. He will not be pacified like a child!

"I'm fine. Really, I am."

"If I am not needed, then I will leave you to your sleep. Good night, young master."

"Wait."

Sebastian waits.

"Stay there, just until I fall asleep."

"Of course, sir."

And he does.

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