Outside Amsterdam, Nazi camp. June 14th, 1943

Fourteen days of training didn't sound bad on paper. Not so nice in experience.

Sebastian couldn't feel any embarrassment any more as he stood in a group shower, ten other trainees around him. He breathed out as he watched dirt wash down the drain.

Training was harder for him, as the rest of the soldiers had either been in war already and had experience under their belt, or they were raised in the Hitler Youth Program and once again knew many relevant skills. Sebastian wasn't quite so lucky and the sting in his limbs proved how that was doing for him. During the four hundred metre run that afternoon, he had actually thought of every biscuit and cake he'd eaten during his time at the university and pleaded forgiveness for his sins over each one.

Sebastian never thought himself out of shape, but over the past couple of weeks he sincerely regretted the small bit of pudge that had accumulated along his waistband.

Even with this, he was probably one of the healthier people here. Never in his whole career of internships at hospitals and other medical experiences had he never seen so many addicts gathered together somewhere other than rehab. Pervitin and opiates had been given liberally to those going into war. Sebastian knew that Pervitin was a stimulate. It made sense for it to be given to soldiers for the surge of adrenaline; a side-effect of it being a big, even rash, self-esteem boost. It also dulled pain - a perfect drug for those in battle. Not to mention one that created a high dependence easily, especially with how readily it was given out. Along with that alcohol consumption was also an encouraged habit among the soldiers. Sebastian couldn't see why, anyone he'd ever met while drunk never seemed to make good decisions. Apparently the superior officers weren't oblivious to this either - he'd even overheard bits of conversations about it, the most prominent one he recalled being a tall man talking about "Crimes involving unnatural sexual acts" while under the influence. So Sebastian chalked it up to either being some gay butt sex, or perhaps bestiality. Either way, it proved his point that drunks weren't the best people to trust your life with.

With the five minutes he was allowed in the shower in mind, Sebastian stepped out and grabbed a towel. He dried quickly and hurried down the hall to his barracks to dress. Once he perfected all the folds and tucks of his uniform - as nothing less than perfection was allowed - and pushed his fingers through his undercut with a longing for his messy hair, he turned to check the small stack of letters on the trunk at the end of his bed. Most of it was pointless: settlements needed for the university, last bills for housing, and one from his uncle.

He put the other parcels aside and sat on his thin mattress as he tore open the one from Abaddon, scanning over it quickly. Well wishings, nephew… Hope you're settling in… Due to circumstances... I trust this won't be a bother to you… Regards, Uncle Abaddon. Wait. Sebastian frowned and went back a couple lines.

Due to circumstances and letters from your superior officers, your training has been scheduled to continue for another three weeks at the least. I trust this won't be a bother-

Sebastian's eyes widen. No. He crumpled the paper in his fist and threw it at the wall, where it fell, silent and unsatisfying. No. This wasn't an option. Ciel had already spent a fortnight in either a ghetto or a concentration camp, he wasn't going to let his boyfriend suffer any longer. As strong as he was, Ciel was still so small, so very small; and Alois' loss had taken its toll on his resilience. Not only that, but this situation was one Sebastian had directly caused. He couldn't bear the thought of the librarian hurting because of him. He couldn't let Ciel just rot away in some camp, he had to save him, damn it!

Sebastian hung his head, elbows resting on his knees. No… This wasn't the way this was supposed to play out. He was suppose to join as a sort of spy then break Ciel free of his prison, not have to spend over a month just in training. It was unacceptable. Unthinkable. A variable Sebastian never once considered possible. Stupid, he scolded. Stupid and illogical. He never had been in the best of shape, how was he expected to pass the Nazi's strict tests with his limited physical abilities? They put no stock in mental exercises, which he could complete without even a metaphorical sweat breaking. Running four hundred metres was such a depressingly bodily task. He wouldn't be able to get to his lover before Ciel was scarred beyond healing with his physical state.

The former student ran his hands over his eyes with a low groan. No, he didn't think he could even survive if he had to continue this hellish regime for three more weeks. Not only that, but he couldn't excel at any of his tasks - he found no joy in them, not as he did for any surgical problems.

That's a perk of going to garrison a concentration camp, I guess: I'll get to work with bodies again.

Sebastian laughed grimly at himself then pushed up to his feet. Suddenly the excess of alcohol around the training grounds wasn't so irksome to him.

Warsaw Ghetto, Poland. June 15th, 1943

Over the next week, Sebastian became more acquainted with the soldiers around him, seeing as he was going to be there for a while, and learned most of them were training to join the SS. Made sense, a majority of them were blood thirsty bastards who put too much stock in Hitler's words, while also explaining why their schedule was such a hard one. Perhaps the former student was a bit more physically fit than he originally thought.

It was with a groan that he stood from his seat when the train finally bumped to a halt. As part of their training, the unit was sent out to help quell a now armed Jewish rebellion. From what Sebastian understood, the Jews of the Warsaw Ghetto became enraged when they learned people were not being sent to labour camps, but to be exterminated. With help of what those above him called "Polish bandits," the residents of the ghetto had gotten their hands on guns, grenades, and other such armaments. The upcoming SS were sent, along with already full fledged members of the deadly group, to stamp this out.

Sebastian wasn't thrilled in the slightest. Battle was not something he was hoping to see in his lifetime, nor against Jews he could so easily imagine as Ciel or Alois. Did these so called undesirables have families? Friends? Perhaps it was someone's birthday today, maybe all they wanted was something sweet to brighten up their life on this day. There could a pregnant woman, ready to burst with child, who only wanted a safe place to raise her baby. Fathers itching to teach their sons the proper way to care for his future wife. Young girls playing dolls with their friends. These weren't pigs that deserved to die - these were people with hopes and dreams and fears who had committed no crime but wanting to live in safety.

Ciel. Sebastian reminded himself of his purpose firmly. Nothing was going to change his course, not even innocent bloodshed. If that was the price for saving his beloved from hell and getting to have him in his arms once more, then so be it. He refused to be deterred.

With his drive - or maybe it was justification - renewed, he stepped off the train, rifle pressed firmly into his shoulder. He marched alongside others clad in olive, posture exactly the same as those around him. There was occasional gunfire ringing through the air, screams accompanying it, but most of the city was rubble - burned to a crisp by the Nazis. On one lone rooftop, visible through the ash, are two flags: one the red and white of Poland, next to it a white and blue banner representing the Żydowski Związek Wojskowy - the Jewish Military Union.

"They've got balls putting those up." Ronald Knox muttered in his ear when he, too, caught sight of the flags.

"I imagine those being there are the only thing keeping them fighting." Sebastian murmured back. When he got a look of confusion from Ronald, he continued, "Imagine how much their moral must raise every time they look up and see that, despite the Germans' best efforts, those flags are still flying high. Even though there's casualties in the streets and their town is burned to the ground, those flags are still faithfully up there."

Ronald looked a bit surprised at his understand then nodded, jumping quickly to attention when the German order was shouted across the crowd of newcomers.

The SS warriors were sent immediately into the field to find the remainder of hiding resident after being told of what the forces already there had found the Jews to be using, "Polish Rifles, Russian Rifles, German Rifles, pistols of various calibers; hand grenades, Molotov cocktails, and various homemade explosives."

Once the Blackshirts had saluted with a "Heil Hitler!" and marched off dutifully, Sebastian's squadron was to guard the subdued Jews.

He was surprised to see the dirty and exhausted rebellion holding their heads high even though they knew trucks were on their way to take them Treblinka for extermination. Not one of them wavered as armed forces surrounded their raggedy group. Perhaps the fighting had dulled them, made them as desensitized to guns as Sebastian was to corpses.

He stared at them, gaze going to every face he could make out. "Why do you fight?" he asked in soft English after being met with so many resilient looks hidden beneath dark bruises and ashy faces - some of them covered in burns.

"Why do you?" spat back a woman. She was sporting a black eye and swollen cheek, but her fire wasn't dimmed in the slightest from her wounds.

Sebastian blinked. "For a safe haven for my beloved." he said after a moment.

The woman seemed surprised by the answer and nodded. "For family." she agreed. "For human rights no matter the person. For the future. For liberty in all things, even death. If my choice is to go to some extermination camp or fight, then I will always choose to fight. I shouldn't have to die with less dignity than a lamb brought to the slaughter; I shouldn't be treated like a diseased animal; for the children to live in peace and not fear. For all peoples to be able to meet in fellowship."

He stared at her for another moment then nodded. "A worthy cause if ever I heard one."

Has Ciel already died like that? The sudden thought shocked Sebastian, almost making him reel. Here he was, guarding people who only wanted to be treated as the human beings they were as Ciel suffered because of what Sebastian had done. Not for the first time, nor would it be the last, he wondered if his plan had been foolhardy and misguided - if it wouldn't have been better to go with Ciel, side-by-side, into the belly of the beast.

He could only nod to the woman once more before turning back to the rubble of a once hellish ghetto.

Not much sleep was had that night by anyone in Sebastian's squadron. It was also then, sometime around two, when he had his first dose of Pervitin - against all his better judgement. Grogginess and a lack of wanting punishment finally pushed him to swallowing a pill with a mouthful of whiskey.

And when it kicked in, it was nothing like Sebastian ever experienced.

As everyone had told him, he felt more awake and alert than he could remember being. And… Euphoric. What was there to be upset about? His gun was right there next to him along with Ronald drinking by his side. It was all good.

In fact, he was feeling more emotions than he could recall ever feeling at one time. He would have thought the experience exhausting, but he only felt continually spurred on, sparks of energy coursing through him, ready to do anything asked of him no matter the task. Hell, he was ready to march into every concentration camp in Europe, guns blazing, until he found Ciel.

Ciel… Now that was a delicious thought. Cock twitching in his trousers, he licked his lips. What he wouldn't do to have Ciel in front of him now; would love to have his tongue buried deep in the librarian's furled hole, make him croon with pleasure. Sebastian scratched his thigh with jerky fingers. How lovely it would be to fuck him - hard and fast; then gentle, loving, sweet with words of praise. To hold Ciel close once more…

Suddenly that amazing range of emotions he was feeling turned sour. Sebastian dug his fingers into his thigh harder. "Look at you, boy." He jumped with the sudden voice, hated, feared. He turned to where he thought it was coming from. Standing in front of him- no, towering over him, was Abaddon. Not the primp and proper military commander, but a man who might as well be a hermit: red hair overlong and unkempt with a beard just as ragged, a mixture of alcohols souring his breath to match his bitter attitude over the harsh terms of the Treaty of Versailles, anger he took out on a young Sebastian and his sister. "Look how worthless you are." The student could have sworn he felt a hard slap and he stumbled back. "Can't even stand. Can't say no. A pushover." Another hit and Sebastian fell back.

"No, no, no!" he shouted at the air, rigid finger pointed at the delusion. "No! You're not real!"

And right before Abaddon could land the next blow, he felt arms wrap around him. "It's not real." Ronald Knox assured through a whisper in his ear. "What ever you're seeing, it ain't really there. Not everyone takes Pervitin well, so just focus on me. Don't listen to it, listen to me."

Sebastian, surprised by the act, leaned back against the other soldier's chest. He stayed like that until the effects of the drug eventually wore off, leaving him tired and twitchy. He could hear his pulse thrumming in his ears, faster than it should be. A side effect of stimulants. Except, unlike with other recreational drugs, Sebastian remembered everything he saw. And he wished he didn't.

It had taken years to shake off the shadows of abuse, to look in the mirror without recalling bruises dotting his torso. To be able to even look at Abaddon without flinching, resisting the urge to lower his eyes as a form of submittance, never respect. How odd it was that his only uncle managed to be the best and worst relative he had, radical in both aspects.

Once his shaking had subsided enough, Sebastian stood and looked out over the ashes of the Warsaw Ghetto. "It's almost morning." he muttered in surprise.

Ronald nodded beside him. "Yeah. You know, maybe you'd like an opiate better. Probably shouldn't try Pervitin again, might just claw out your own eyes if you do." he chuckled weakly. "That-that was supposed to be a joke."

"I've had enough of drugs." the former student replied, staring at the slowly rising sun, beams of light breaking through the fog, illuminating the gloomy landscape. He wished it wasn't. Not for him, but for the few Jews that had to look at it. As much as they may have hated their forced residence - a home is a home, and they had been living there long enough to come to know the ghetto as such. Now it was in ruins, buildings either levelled or full of so many holes they looked ready to collapse at a moment's notice. They'd been told the fighting had been going on for nearly a month, which easily accounted for all the property damage, but Sebastian could scarcely comprehend just how destructive war was.

Just as he was trying to wrap his mind around what the ghetto may have looked like before a brilliant light, brighter than the sun in the sky, erupted across the town, surprisingly quiet. First came the heat from it before the magnificent thunder from the explosion, accompanied by the dreadful violins of a building crumbling.

"What the fuck was that?!" Sebastian asked in a slightly panicked tone, completely shocked out of his reverie.

"The synagogue." muttered Ronald. "They blew up the synagogue."

He stared out at the eerily silent landscape. Before, for all hours, there was gun shots ringing through the air, punctuated by the bang of grenades, with large engines constantly rumbling beneath these other noises. Now, all fighting parties are too shocked to continue their clashing. The sinister, empty hush that suddenly fell across the ghetto was just as quickly filled with wails of agony. Even the Jews Sebastian's squadron was set to watch over started to let out hackle-raising sobs. Some pulled at their hair as they screamed out in Hebrew, others tearing at their dirty and hole filled clothing in a clear sign of anguish. The skyline was ominously barren with the temple no longer overlooking the city.

Sebastian could feel his soul throb as despaired cries rang out, making him grip his gun tighter. Would Ciel have reacted like this? Would Ciel even be able to look at him once he knew everything Sebastian had done and allowed to be done just to reunite with his lover? No. Ciel probably hated him now. He had betrayed the librarian, after all. No matter how calculated those words had been, that doesn't ease the pain of Ciel screaming his hatred at him as Germans took him to be deported. They could go on to have the happiest future that anyone ever had or will have, Sebastian wouldn't forget how Ciel sobbed at his treachery. Soon, Sebastian felt his misery was as great as the wailing Jews' behind him.

Warsaw Ghetto, Poland. June 19th, 1943

When Sebastian awoke, at perhaps one as he had taken the night shift, the entire ghetto was burning in scarlet flames.

You might think he'd be shocked at this development. It's surprising how quickly you become numb. The first time he saw a body, he wanted to vomit - amazing for one who aspired to the medical field. But this corpse wasn't some clean cut, died-on-the-operating-table corpse, it was the most vile form of death Sebastian had ever seen: the Jew was dead by time he came across it, but whatever could have killed her, he couldn't see; all he knew was that the torso and waist were disconnected from each other, with only the spine and a few internal organs that seeped out onto the bullet shell covered road keeping the two halves together. Her eyes were empty, no light of life behind them, yet this make her even more harrowing.

If Sebastian were to come across her today, retching wouldn't even cross through his mind; he would just stomp on her throat to ensure she was dead.

He hasn't had to kill by his own hand yet, but he had watched the SS line up Jews, proclaim them war criminals, and shoot them until their clips were empty. Only then, with bullets no longer holding them in the air, did the lifeless bodies drop to the earth with a wet squelch.

Sebastian stared out at the ghetto. Each building was being lit, one by one, new flames slowly added to the burning heat that the former student could feel unbearably well from where he stood.

Four days in the field and already he isn't the same man that the train brought here.

Later that day, with Warsaw still in flames at their backs, Sebastian helped load up the Jews into olive green trucks. He was told they were to be taken to a concentration camp, straight to the gas chambers.

Something inside him told him that four days ago he would have fought for their liberation.

Now he hit a frail old man in the back with the butt of his rifle for not moving quickly enough.

More than just than constant screams, death, and explosions contribute to his change. Most of it was the total distrust within the Nazi ranks.

Everyone was trying to rise to the top, to stand by Hitler's side. Nobody was afraid to speak a bad word against his fellow man, so long as it meant he got rewarded. Sebastian can honestly say Ronald Knox was the only one he would want guarding his back, anyone one else would just drive a knife through it, but even then his trust for the man is minute. In these short days, he learned to stand on his own, to value his own accompany against those of his squadron. He realised that the only way he was going to make it through this - him and Ciel - was for Sebastian to carry them both. No one else was going to help.

One Jew, an able young man with a squished nose and singed brown hair, took a look around then began to run towards the ghetto - perhaps in search of a family member or prized possession.

An officer only a couple metres behind Sebastian hollered, " Schießen !" and Sebastian did without a thought for disobedience. He raised his rifle to his shoulder, as he'd been trained, with just the barest glimpse down the sights before he pulled the trigger. While he had been aiming for the middle of the Jew's back, he hadn't prepared for the gun's recoil, still foreign to him as it is, the shot hit him in the back of his neck and the man dropped with a gurgled cry.

Agony, guilt, shame, self-loathing. None of these are what Sebastian felt as he watched the man die in the dirt. No. He felt… Powerful. Powerful in a way that was so different from what he knew. At university, he'd been training to save lives, to have dominance against nature. Now, he had puissance over death, to wield it as he pleased. A hellish beast leapt inside him, invigorating him with an addictive poison, urging him to use this new found authority on every last living being in the vicinity. It was survival of the fittest and he alone fit that quota.

Ciel would think he was a monster.