Monday's Update :)

Thank you for the follows and faves! As you know, we are nearing the end. But I've already started work on the third (and probably final) part of this series.

I do not own Black Butler, etc, etc. Hope you enjoy! I still have a craving for reviews ;)

It was Ciel's fingers on her face that wakened her finally; the backs of large tapered fingers brushing the tear tracks from her cheeks, and her earthen eyes opened to his mismatched gaze; one unbelievably blue eye and one deep purple marked with the contract seal of his demon butler. There were smile lines creasing the corners of his eyes, a stupefied grin plastered on his incredibly handsome face. She choked back a laughing sob and grabbed his fingers in her hand, holding them to her mouth as she cried.

"It's done," he whispered, his voice deep and scratchy and she realized how very much like Sebastian he appeared in that moment. "I ...hurt."

"I imagine you do," she breathed, gingerly sitting up and helping him right himself on the hard oak planks.

"Your fingers were burned..."

"It's alright, Dearest. They've healed. They only sting a little."

"I feel as if my innards are on fire," he chuckled, unable to wipe the smile from his face. He still clutched her hand, but slowly, he stretched his legs out before him and marveled at their length. "I want a mirror."

Menefer got her feet beneath her and stood, levering Ciel from the floor and when he rose up to his full height they both gasped in surprise. Surely he would tower over Sebastian. Ciel found suddenly he had the urge to laugh. And so he did. Rather loudly.

Menefer guided him to his room and steered him to the antique dressing mirror. His legs were not entirely stable and though he complained that he burned from within, his skin was dangerously cold to the touch. She left him there to stare in mute wonder at what he had become and went to prepare the cleansing bath. The last part of the ritual.

The remainder of the mimosa salts were added to the steaming water and she turned the tap, shutting off the flow. It would be a bit more awkward for him now, she knew, as she helped him to the bathroom, for him to withstand her bathing his adult form. If he cared, he didn't show it, and he stepped into the tub on shaking legs and sank into the water, sighing as he slipped down beneath the surface for a moment. Bubbles escaped his smiling mouth and he eased back up, relaxing against the back of the tub. The blackened flakes that were once his clothes floated to the surface of the water as she squeezed the sponge over his hair. He closed his eyes in bliss as she washed away the ashes and swept the sponge over the broad expanse of his shoulders and back.

He had filled out nicely, he thought, thankful that Lizzie would not be hindered by his physical appearance now that this dilemma had finally been resolved. He didn't look like he was in his forties by any means-early thirties at best-but he was the spitting image of his father before him and as such, quite powerfully built. He couldn't stop himself from assessing other parts of his physique, and he was pleasantly surprised with that development, as well.

Menefer saw him look down, then back up at the wall opposite with a satisfied grin on his face and she couldn't stop herself from laughing. He turned an accusatory glare on her over his shoulder but neither of them could stop their mirth for long and they laughed, expelling some of the tension and pain that had plagued them both during the ritual.

"I think you should try to sleep once we're through here," she said, handing him the sponge so he could take care of the more intimate parts of his anatomy. She averted her gaze as he washed, turning her body and leaning her back against the tub as she stretched her legs out on the floor. "I'll clean up everything. We can have everyone home by this evening."

"Yes. Everyone home," he agreed.

The water sloshed about in the tub as he shifted, and Menefer found herself wondering about his dream. "What was Cybille like?" she asked softly, crossing her legs at the ankles in front of her and absently pressing her fingertips into the quickly healing burn scars on her palm.

"She was young in my dream. Fourteen or fifteen, perhaps. She was lovely. Blonde hair, gray eyes. Her skin was the color of toffee. She was every bit as selfless and kind as Sebastian described her to me."

"I almost wish I could meet her," Menefer sighed.

"She reminded me very much of you, Mennie," Ciel stated, matter-of-factly, reaching his arm out and wrapping it about her shoulders. He was dripping with the bath water and he soaked her shirt with his hug, but she found she didn't care and grasped his strong arm with her fingers.

"In the dream, I awoke in her bed, in my own room, only it was transformed. It was exactly how it had been over a century ago when she had called it her own. I saw myself in the mirror there and thought for a moment I was looking at my father. She came into the room, dressed no doubt as she would have dressed back then, and I knew when I saw her that she was Sebastian's wife.

"She explained to me that she believed she was trapped in that young body because that was the time of her life she experienced the most heartache. She said she was giving me the last of her strength to make this ritual work."

"She is ...gone, then?"

Ciel finally relinquished his hold around Menefer's shoulders and she turned to face him again, watching as he wrung out the sponge and sat it on the side of the tub. He nodded.

"I think that ghost of her is gone. But she remains, somehow; she told me to give Sebastian a message. That they would be together again. But that she would not look the same and he would know her by the sound of her voice."

Menefer nodded sadly, having known that her time with her precious Marcus would eventually come to an end. She had felt it since his absence the past two days. It was a burning heartbreak that threatened to burst from her chest. She thought at first, she only missed him, having grown accustomed to having him around constantly. It was a giddy sensation, considering they had only been in New Orleans for a scant few weeks and yet she felt as though they had lived as a family for years. Ciel she had looked on as a little brother, if not a son; yet now he appeared even older than she did.

"Oh, no..." she gasped, eyes widening in shock, and she shot to her knees next to the tub.

"What?" Ciel asked, minute panic creeping into his voice.

"What do we tell anyone that asks what happened to you? You're supposed to be Sebastian's son!"

"...Shit."

Menefer stood abruptly and marched into her bedroom, changing shirts quickly and fishing out a pair of Sebastian's slacks and a shirt for Ciel to wear; returning to the bathroom she helped Ciel out of the tub-he was still a bit wobbly-and once he was dressed, she nodded resolutely. "Ciel has gone off to boarding school. That is what it's called, correct? You are Sebastian's ...cousin? Brother? We shall have to find a name for you. And we may as well say you are engaged to Lizzie..."

"Why would Ciel's tutor still be here if Ciel is not?" he asked blandly, shrugging the borrowed shirt over his broad shoulders.

"Because he is engaged to Lizzie?" she suggested with a shrug.

"I suppose it doesn't matter how contrived or round-about it sounds. They will accept it or not. Regardless. I have an inkling to take Elizabeth on a honeymoon of sorts," he grinned.

Menefer laughed outright. "I suppose you do."

Sebastian was informed by his new pseudo-master that his services would not be required at the bank that morning, and as such, the demon found himself wandering listlessly through the throngs of humans that tended to litter the streets of the French Quarter. He was content in this, though his mind continually strayed to memories of his late wife when he saw something that distinctly reminded him of Cybille. Unfortunately, his mind wandered more often than not, from her pure and unblemished memory to the Egyptian hell-cat he'd been denied the pleasure of for the last two nights. It was a shame really; he'd grown used to having her anytime he'd felt the need and now he was going through a bit of a withdrawal. He still wouldn't claim to love Menefer-not precisely. He did care very much what she was doing, and whom she was with; but he attributed this more to his demonic sense of possessiveness.

He wondered for the umpteenth time how his master's ritual was playing out. Had they made any headway at all? Would he return home to a grown Ciel? Would Ciel forever be a child? What would he do if he did succeed? That thought had Sebastian cringing in anticipation. There would have to be a shift in roles. His contract with the banker would have to be expedited. A great many things would have to change.

Sebastian was so immersed in his ponderings that when he finally registered his location, he realized he was standing in front of the Hotel Provincial. May as well stick my head in for a moment.

Lizzie answered the door with a surprised gasp, expecting the worst, considering that Sebastian had deigned to visit at all. "It's nothing," he promised, slipping inside and taking a seat at the small table in the far corner of the room. "I was only passing by and supposed I should check in on you."

"I feared something terrible when I saw you," she breathed, visibly relaxing as she took the seat across from the demon. "Have you heard anything?"

"Nothing. It is early yet. Perhaps by tonight..." It was then that he felt a definitive tingle cross the back of his hand, his contract mark suddenly over-sensitized to the glove touching it. His brows drew together and he had to wonder a moment which contractor had called him. He decided that the sensation was too familiar to not have been Ciel and he smiled broadly at Elizabeth across the table. "I think our questions are about to be answered. Ciel has just recalled me."

At that moment, the phone on the bedside table rang shrilly, echoing off the plaster walls of the suite. Elizabeth gazed in mute shock at Sebastian for a heartbeat, then leapt from her seated position and dove across the bed like a child to answer. "Yes? ...Mennie! We can come home? That means the ritual is over, yes? And it's over before the three days... OH MY GOD! IT WORKED!" Elizabeth was screaming into the receiver, and Sebastian was caught somewhere between irritation at her behavior and mirth. She didn't deign to say "goodbye" only slammed the receiver down in the cradle and rolled off the side of the bed, springing to her feet as agilely as an athlete. She was tossing things in her trunk with a speed that baffled the demon.

"Lady Elizabeth-" he started, but abruptly realized that any request he made would fall on deaf ears. She hadn't even cut her eyes to him in response. With a dramatic sigh, Sebastian rose from the plush Victorian style chair and let himself out. Once out in the hallway, noticeably void of any onlookers, he allowed his preternatural abilities to surface and in a cloud of shimmering blackness, he vanished, willing himself home.

He appeared scant moments later in front of the house at 809 Dumaine. The exterior of the house remained the same, but the aura surrounding it was lighter, as if some burden had been swept away from the place. He could hear the giddy laughter ringing off the walls inside; Menefer's gravelly cachinnation mixed with a deep voice, male, that he did not recognize and yet knew belonged to Ciel. There was the tiniest bit of apprehension as Sebastian put his hand on the latch and pushed the door open. What would he find? What would Ciel expect of him? How would their roles change in each others' existence? He supposed it didn't matter one iota how Ciel had changed; their relationship had no basis in the way either of them looked. But would the younger demon decide to stick around? Would Mistress Elizabeth wait on Ciel hand and foot as Sebastian had done the last forty years?

The demon made his way cautiously into the study and out the back door there into the hallway, following the merry sounds to the back of the house. When he came upon them in the dining room, he was shocked to say the least, to find the spitting image of Vincent Phantomhive sitting at the head of the dining table. Menefer sat next to him, sipping on tea, and they laughed at some private joke they shared. It was a rarity to hear Ciel Phantomhive laugh at anything and their joviality grated on Sebastian's nerves for a reason he could not put his finger on.

He brushed the emotion away and made his way into the room, clearing his throat so that his presence would not startle them. Menefer's head snapped around at the sound, and the grin she wore multiplied ten-fold upon seeing his black-clad form. That at least, served to buoy his spirits somewhat.

Ciel turned his smiling face on the butler, nodding his hello, but making no move to rise from his seat so that Sebastian could get a better look at him. Menefer on the other hand, practically leapt from her own and dove at the older demon, wrapping her arms around his neck in a desperate hug.

"I know it has only been two days, but I've missed you so!" she exclaimed, burying her face in the curve of his neck as his arms automatically encircled her waist. He held her loosely as she nuzzled and though he wouldn't admit it aloud, he had missed her as well.

"What do you think, Sebastian?" the man at the table asked. The arrogance in his voice assured him that this was, in fact if not in form, Ciel Phantomhive.

"I am at a loss for words, my young master."

"I thought you might be. I hope you don't mind-I had to borrow some clothes from you."

"It is quite alright, my lord. I will see to it you have your own wardrobe post haste." Sebastian held Menefer out at arm's length and drank in her exquisite form. "You look the same. Nothing particularly dreadful occurred during the ritual, I take it?"

"I only burned my hands a bit, my Marcus, but they have healed. Ciel was in very much pain for a while, but once it was over and the last cleansing bath was finished, he was... well, perfect. A new man, as it were."

"Mistress Elizabeth and Paula will be home shortly. I came ahead to assess the situation. It appears I worried for naught. I am profoundly glad that you both are alright." He laid a kiss on Menefer's forehead and turned to exit the dining room.

"Sebastian," Ciel called, standing finally, and making his way over to him.

"Yes, my master?" was his practiced reply, and he turned to await the response.

Ciel only marched over and stood next to him for a moment, staring mutely but seemingly impressed and amused by something outside the older demon's notice. "What is it, Ciel?"

"I am taller."