Author's note- this is especially for Matt who wondered where the hell my scary writing slithered off to. This is me warning you now that the violence/gore/very scary Ciel in here may offend some people. Kiss the gunner's daughter is an old British expression that you can all look up in your spare time c;
35. Scars
Howling and sobbing like a child isn't about to help the situation, Ciel mentally berates, dropping to his knees to assess the extent of the damage. The snow covered streets of London graze at his exposed skin, cold wind touch his bare calves and thighs. He hyperventilates only a little.
Sebastian is crooked on the ground, bleeding from a hidden wound in his chest, and Ciel is only a month shy out of being ten, narrow mind not having fathomed other supernatural beings aside from demons.
The body of the Lycanthrope lies about a metre away, all fluffy tail and broken claws and fangs. He tries his best not to vomit at the smell of wet dog.
His butler's eyes are half lidded, enquiring to why Ciel is making such a big fuss. The Earl's hands shake, upper forearms and shoulder soon tremble in an effort to not sob out loud. At last the limbs get ahold of themselves, granting Ciel the ability to slip Sebastian's buttons off his swallow tailed coat, then waist jacket, then blouse under that. Thirteen buttons. It's never seemed like such an impossible mission, but there you go.
He's revealed what a slab of meat looks like after being attacked with a serrated edge clever.
"Such honest tears over a demon like myself. I am honoured, my Lord," he didn't realise his resolve was starting to waver quite so badly- interestingly enough, his sealed eye does not weep. Belatedly he also realises that he doesn't want Sebastian to die and leave him all alone. The statement is so powerful in his mind, it awakens another shameful bout of crying.
Mystified, maybe even a little humbled by the refreshing gesture, Sebastian lifts a hand- not without minor wincing- gloved fingers tracing over his leather eye patch, over his damp cheeks still round with a child's build and across his lips-so delicate and small like a Botticelli Cherub- before giving another, slightly stronger wince, and something truly amazing happens.
His once tore apart chest starts to crack inwards, the sound of bones rearranging themselves is highly unpleasant, but Ciel can't tear his good eye off the miracle. Thirty seconds later, there is only a glossed over scar running from sternum to collarbone to indicate there was ever any damage.
Ciel's mouth hangs open, earning a bemused laugh from below.
"Why didn't you tell me you could regenerate!" Ciel yells, ears hot with embarrassment and he strikes Sebastian on the shoulder.
28. Honest
Is something Sebastian is not.
74. Furious
After their first supernatural attack, Ciel orders his valets out of the mansion, throwing himself and Sebastian down into the wine cellar for a talk.
"Is there anything else you've neglected in telling me?" Ciel growls, pacing up and down, Colt revolver tight in his right hand.
"I've told you everything, young Master," Sebastian replies robotically, eyes cold.
"Lair!"
The Earl's moodswings have become more and more erratic the more he learns of accepting his parent's deaths and realising how awful he is for getting over the grieving period so quickly. Feeling insecure is a complete understatement.
The Colt kicks in his hands, hammer flashing down, smell of gunpowder sharp in the air and the bullet cuts cleanly into his butler's foot. The demon buckles to the ground in a good impersonation of being in agony.
He hears the familiar squeak of the spring setting the loading lever back into place.
"Will you ever die?" Ciel asks, finding his breath coming in panting wheezes. Sebastian's own breathing is pretty unstable too. He peers up through his fringe, face twitching in pain again as his skin reknits itself.
"I am a demon, young Master. I'll never truly die. At will I can repair most injuries."
"Most injuries?" Ciel enquires, even though his foot has mended, Sebastian stays submissively in his crouch. "Let's test that theory out," before Sebastian can convince him otherwise, a bullet explodes out the back of his skull, blood splattering the cobble ground, bits of mattered hair still attached to skin and brain tissue splashing into the blood smears.
Slowly, the butler shudders, tipping over and hitting his side, blank eyes wide in surprise, still sizzling hole making a third eye in his forehead. Ciel flicks his Colt open, sloppily shaking the shells that haven't been blasted out and reloading with detached emotion.
The seal on his eye burns horribly.
"That was terribly rude, young Master," a breezy sigh escapes Sebastian's blood stained lips, life flooding swiftly back into his maroon eyes and he sits up gingerly. At a snail's pass, the back of his head means. "I honestly don't know where you pick your manners up from-"
A third bullets cleavers his heart, blood this time gushing from his mouth. Ciel has to take a step backwards as the steady pool of red slinks towards his shoes. Sebastian catches himself on his hands, clinging onto life this time.
Ciels contact throbs in time with the wild thumps of Sebastian's harmed heart.
"Are you quite finished?" he manages through a clot of blood, spitting it out onto the floor. A bullet shell gleams from the regurgitated blood.
No.
Ciel wants the demon to suffer more. Ten times the tragedy of his own. To burden that feeling onto somebody else. He wants to shoot and shoot until he's ruined all over and he won't be able to stand looking at his own hands anymore. It feels so good.
His chest bursts outwards as he shoots through the spinal cord- a gash appears and the broken bone juts and rips free of his skin and clothes. Blood sprays from his back, netting cobwebs in Ciel's hair and across his cheek. Ciel kicks Sebastian down, then rolls him over, smile just as wide as the demon's, throwing down his revolver and taking his pocket knife out from the side of his boot.
He drops to the ground and thinks he hears the demon laughing, painful and shrill as he hacks through the stiff material of coat, jacket and blouse to slice at the smooth panel of his stomach- then realises he's hearing himself.
The weakened skin lets out another flow of blood- already he's lost five times as much as any normal human- and intestines try to push out as there is nothing to hold them back in place.
Ciel guides his hands through the thick liquid, hands itching and becoming sticky and hot, pushing up the flap of skin before it can sew itself back up, and starts to pull savagely at what he presumes is the large intestines.
A real howl comes from Sebastian, as Ciel digs deep, wondering if he could push his hands past the trivial stuff, run his hands over his rib cage and squeeze his heart- before tearing it out.
"Y-young Master," Sebastian's voice shakes deliciously, and Ciel's upper arms are given a warning grip.
"Do you fear for your life, Sebastian?" Ciel asks sweetly, putting his weight on his knees as he leans across his butlers shuddering body.
"I fear for yours."
55. Annoy
Lately he's realised that the little things that have annoyed him, have suddenly become much bigger things.
Finnie's filthy habit of digging dirty under his nails, Elizabeth's chiming giggles, going out of tune on his violin, or the second pothole in the road that jars his head when they travel to London.
And Sebastian irrational healing abilities.
Rationally, Ciel knows he's being unreasonable about it. Like it should bother him that Sebastian can brush off any knock and bruise, and can't be content with his unstoppable battle butler. Maybe, just a little, the only reason he's so twisted about it is that he has suffered so much and has every scar to show for it- and he just can't deal with another not being just as miserable.
"Kneel."
The order is barked out, in the darkness of the library, this is not the first time it's happened either. This, apart from outside, is the furthest and most sound proof place in the mansion from the rest of the servants.
In Ciel's hand, is a cat o' nine tails.
On the table next to him, knives that should be used on hunks of meat, strings of cutting wire, hedge clippers and a garden scythe. The table's length is easily Ciel's height and more. And it's covered in all sorts of instruments of terror, including the aforementioned.
"Shirt off," Ciel hisses, gripping the leather tightly between his fingers. It squeaks against his protective gloves.
This is almost a weekly thing. Pushing Sebastian to his demon-ly limits. Ciel insists it's for the good of both of them, knowing how far Sebastian can be hurt without discarding his borrowed body. Denying. Ciel has managed to convince himself this is the whole truth, but his wily demon easily sees though it.
Slowly, keeping his sharp eyes on Ciel always, Sebastian unbuttons the first layer of clothing. In almost any other situation it could be thought as a teasing strip. The swallow tail coat drops to the ground, head butler badge and pocket watch chiming on the wooden panels. Next is his waist jacket, tight like a woman's corset, tie, and finally blouse.
Ciel smiles. He's going to enjoy this.