It may have come to your attentions that I have been posting chapters quite frequently as of late. This is because I have a queer amount of spare time, and I want to get up as many chapters as I possibly can before I run out. I'm applying for jobs, and I hope to be hired soon. If I am, I won't have as much time to write, as sad as that may be. So do enjoy these extra special treats. On another note, I hope that you, darling readers, are ready for some feels. And again, thank you for taking time out of your day to read this story, and for leaving me reviews. I really appreciate all the wonderful feedback I have gotten, and I don't think I'd have gotten this far into the story without you all. I plan to see this through, and I hope that you will be with me, until the end. Lots of Love, Eztli.

Chapter Seven

Nightmare

Ciel was in agony; his body ached from being beaten and starvation caused his stomach to cramp up horrendously. His lips were chapped, and his mouth and throat were dry as a desert. The moans and cries of the other children surrounded him, filled his ears until it was all that he could hear. The cage he was being kept in was too small, causing him to hunch down in the fetal position. Unlike the other children, Ciel did not cry, nor did he scream for help; he had already realised how hopeless it was, and he didn't believe in doing tedious things. It was very dark, and he could not see the other children, though their agony rang in his ears. His whole existence seemed to be nothing but pain and darkness. And then there was laughter, such harsh laughter. A small light flickered on, and the cage door opened. The people in masks dragged him out, their laughter and chatter building, becoming a cacophony of relentless pandemonium.

Their hands clawed at his flesh, yanking him up into the air and tossing him on top of a stone dais. A glowing brand came into Ciel's view, and they slowly brought it closer and closer to his left side. They chanted in whispered voices, "...the Mark of the Noble Beast...", as excitement rippled through them. The brand pressed into his skin, making a sickening hissing sound. The nauseating odor of burning human flesh stuck in his nose, causing his cramping stomach to flip uncomfortably. His abdominal region heaved, but nothing came out. He gagged on the urge to vomit, coughing as nothing but air whooshed out. Ciel screamed out in anguish, his back arching sharply as tears sprang into his eyes. He tries to rip his arms away, his body contorting almost painfully—

"—oung Master?" Sebastian's worried voice breaks through, his gloved hand reaching forward as if to gently touch his master's shoulder.

Ciel's eyes snapped open, his hand reaching under his pillow and gripping a gun; he whipped it out and aimed it straight at Sebastian's face. Still completely enveloped in his dreams, his eyes saw only his attackers. Ciel pulled the trigger, firing a bullet straight into the head of his tormentor. "No! Don't touch me!" He screamed, the pain of the dream still upon him.

Sebastian caught the bullet, dropping it uselessly onto the floor. "Young Master," he murmured, the tone of his voice soothing.

The gun fell forgotten upon the bed, slipping through shaking hands. "S-Sebastian?" Ciel whispered, the dream-vision mercifully fading. His butler was lit up by soft candlelight emanating from a candelabra. His chocolate eyes held concern, his expression twisted in worry. Ciel's whole body trembled, his breathing coming in irregular, shuddering gasps.

"Yes, my lord; it is I." Sebastian sat on the edge of the bed, moving the gun to the nightstand, out of his master's reach. "It was only a dream, Young Master."

"Only a dream..." Ciel mouthed the words over and over, willing himself to believe such sweet words, though he knew it had been more than just a simple nightmare. Even now, the memories of that time were fresh wounds upon his skin, threatening to become infected as they bled unrelentingly. His right hand subconsciously touched his left side, where the brand mark was permanently etched into his skin. In this moment, he seemed exceedingly fragile, his shoulders trembling with remnants of the fear. He could still feel the pain of the dream; it ached in his bones, and there were faint cramps in his stomach. As his hear rate began to slow, his breath hitched in his throat, and he swallowed hard several times.

"Young Master..." Sebastian's voice was full of quiet shock, as he witnessed for the first time, liquid filling the young Earl's eyes. The moisture pooled over, becoming tears of anguish.

Ciel could not hold the tears back; in fact, he did not realise that he was even crying. They left salty trails down his cheeks, dripping off of his chin and onto his nightshirt. His shoulders shook with each silent sob that racked his body. He dug his teeth into his bottom lip with great force, almost causing it to split, in an attempt to keep his weeping bottled up. His fingers curled into and gripped the sheets as a small whimper passed through his lips. He had seemed to forget his pride, his status, everything that held him back until he reached his breaking point. In this moment, he was not Ciel, the Queen's Guard Dog and Earl of Phantomhive, but Ciel, the wounded, lonely child.

Suddenly, Ciel was encased in the warm arms of someone bigger than he was; his head rested against a soft yet sturdy shoulder. Sebastian held his master, something deep inside—something that confused him terribly, and he certainly did not want to think about it now—bringing forth in him the desire to comfort the boy. His gloved hand stroked the cat-fur soft slate locks, the other calmly rubbing up and down his master's back. While this sort of thing would normally be stopped by Ciel, who pushed his butler away countless times so that he would not appear to be weak, his pride was long forgotten. In it's place was the desire to be touched, to be cared for. It had been so long since someone had held him so lovingly, so comfortingly. Ciel closed his eyes, turning his head and burying his face in the crook of Sebastian's neck. His hand gripped lightly onto the lapel of the tailcoat. The last of Ciel's tears soaked into his butler's dress shirt, a soft sigh escaping his lips.

"If only I could protect you from your dreams," Sebastian whispered softly, his chin resting lightly atop Ciel's crown.

Ciel opened his eyes, tilting his head back to look up at Sebastian. "You can't save me from everything, Sebastian. You can't protect me from my own mind." His voice broke hopelessly as he said these words. He felt as though he were realising for the first time the limits of his demon butler.

Sebastian looked down at Ciel, a devious—perhaps lewd would be the better term, in this case—thought slowly forming in his head. "Perhaps there is one way, Young Master. If you would permit me to demonstrate..."

Ciel quirked an eyebrow, his interest piquing at the secretive manner in which Sebastian was speaking. "I suppose..."

"Why, Young Master, I do believe I taught you how to beg," his butler said, Cheshire cat smile firmly upon his lips.

Determined, Ciel looked into Sebastian's chocolate eyes, his shoulders set. "Sebastian, this is an order: show me." Without a single hesitation, Sebastian brought his lips down upon Ciel's.

One thought stood out clearly among all the others in his head: what have I gotten myself into?