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Devilish Impulses	By : Arianawray Category: > Black Butler (Kuroshitsuji ???) Views: 13948 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I do not own Kuroshitsuji or any of its characters, and I do not make any money from these writings.

Chapter List
- 1-Unwanted
- 2-Whim
- 3-Trust
- 4-Taste
- 5-Scheme
- 6-Command
- 7-Competition
- 8-Advice
- 9-Enlightenment
- 10-Sustenance
- 11-Caught
- 12-Breath
- 13-Arms
- 14-Inflammation
- 15-Imagination
- 16-Intent
- 17-Compromise
- 18-Sacrifice
- 19-Despair
- 20-Compassion
- 21-Interest
- 22-Equality
- 23-Mentor
- 24-History
- 25-Disorder
- 26-Reputation
- 27-Gifts
- 28-Admission
- 29-Watching
- 30-Bonds
- 31-Revelations
- 32-Confrontation
- 33-Struggle
- 34-Separation
- 35-Duty
- 36-Change
- 37-Together
- 38-Love
- 39-Epilogue: Heaven
- 18
- 19
- 20
Despair

Sebastian's arms are torn and bleeding from breaking through the net, but he hardly notices his injuries. The child is all he sees, all he feels, as he is dragged backwards at great speed through nothingness.

"Young Master," he whispers urgently, hoping to feel the small body in his arms stir, or an irritated voice ordering him to do something about their situation. But the boy is still. He holds him close, not knowing when or if they will smash into something in this strange, featureless void.

He is hardly in the best position to protect Ciel while his head, body and legs remain trapped in the net, so he struggles to free himself. Cruelly, the mesh of light constricts his body even more, forcing his spine into a curve and making it impossible to straighten his legs. He cannot use his hands, for he must not let go of the child, who seems barely alive.

In an instant, everything changes around them. Sebastian, with his experience of worlds other than the earthly dimension of the living, understands that their surroundings abruptly look different not because they have travelled from one part of this space to another, but because the dimension is rapidly assuming a form according to someone's consciousness. His own? The child's? Or Ambrose's or Carsten's? Someone connected with the disrupted spell is imposing his view of the world on this nowhere-world. He inhales the air, examines its elements, and finds it breathable by humans.

They are now above a dark, thick forest, high over the canopy of trees. They begin to fall. Sebastian cannot control his descent properly with the net about him, but he does the best he can, crashing onto the forest floor on his bent back, his body cushioning the impact for Ciel.

Pain erupts as his spine shatters against the ground. Everything hurts. But all he waits for in that world of agony is the sound of a heartbeat, the whisper of a breath, the scent of a still-flesh-bound soul, from the fragile body on top of him. At last, through his own pounding pain, he feels it – a faint pulse, the tiniest breath against his throat, the sense of a soul still united with its anchor of flesh and bones.

The boy lives.

The net cuts into Sebastian, draining his strength. He must tear off the mesh to recover, then do all in his power to save the child. He carefully rests the unconscious Ciel on the ground beside him, and begins to rip the glowing restraints apart with his fingers. It takes several painful minutes, but at last, he frees himself from the interlinked ropes of magical light, which dissolve into the forest floor. His back is still broken, but he is a devil, not a human, and can move even with a spine smashed in several places. He will mend – but what about Ciel?

"Young Master?" he calls, crouching over the boy.

No movement, and no response. He has no visible wounds, not even when Sebastian tears open his shirt and inspects the spot where the lance of light drove through him. Nothing is broken, nothing torn. The devil sniffs him deeply and listens to the sounds within his small body. He detects no traces of internal bleeding or other physical injury, although his heartbeat is faint and his breathing shallow.

"Foolish creature!" Sebastian whispers, softly at first, before sharpening his voice in anger. "Reckless child! Why did you… why?"

He looks around him. Trees, trees, and more trees. Where are they? Can they leave this place? He must get help for his master… but is he even his master any more? Sebastian becomes aware that the spell has damaged more than Ciel's consciousness. Something in the spell itself, or the disruption of it, has affected his covenant with the boy. He pulls the glove off his left hand and finds the mark on it so faded that it is little more than a smudge. Raising Ciel's right eyelid, he finds an iris of blue, streaked only with hints of magenta.

Their covenant has been so weakened by the spell as to scarcely merit the title of a contract.

Sebastian stands, straightens out his mending spine, and snaps the cracked sections into place, allowing his demonic body to repair itself as smoothly as it will. The blood he has shed seeps back into his flesh, every drop and stain of it removing itself even from his clothing to return to him. He stares at the child lying senseless on the floor of this mysterious forest as his bones knit together and his wounds close, and knows that in the purest of devilishly legalistic terms, he owes this human being no further allegiance.

But that part of him which had watched, horror-stricken, as the boy shielded him from the lance – that same part of him which had given the gift of a rose and offered his services beyond the five years of their second contract – also knows that legalistic terms matter not a whit any more.

"Impossible child," he murmurs, going down on bended knee to lift him into his arms so he can find them a way out of here. As he scents the air and checks his surroundings, he questions himself: Should he have left Ciel within the dome so that Ambrose could tend to him? Should he have held on to him as he was dragged through the crack?

He decides at once that he was not wrong to have done what he did. He did not know what could have happened to Ciel if he had left him inside the disintegrating dome. He did not know that Ambrose would have the ability to help him. He had therefore clung to his master, believing that if anyone had the desire and the strength to save him, it would be himself.

"Let us see if we can make our way out of here, my lord," he says to the earl with a smile, though he knows he cannot hear or see him. "Will you fly with me?"

Ascertaining that Ciel's head and neck are safely supported by his right arm, while his left arm cradles the crook of his knees, Sebastian leaps into the air above the trees. He does not make it as far beyond the canopy as he would like to, for his bones are still mending, and his strength has not fully restored itself after being sapped by the powers of the net. Still, he makes it far enough to seek a high, sturdy branch to land on. He checks that Ciel is still in one piece, gathers his strength again, and soars higher into the air, making sure to shield the child's face and legs from the twigs and leaves as they break through the crown of the canopy.

Far above them, a false moon shines. Is it Ciel Phantomhive's unconscious imagination that is decorating this nowhere-world with enormous trees, solid earth and a full silver moon? The spell was meant to benefit him, so perhaps he has the greatest influence over the after-effects of the damage done to it. Or could it be Ambrose who is determining the look and feel of this place? The devil does not like to think that they are lost in a world of that man's making, so he chooses to think of this as his master's world. He may not technically be his "master" any more, but for all intents and purposes, this is his little master – this and no other.

"Where are we, my lord?" he asks as he soars through the air, aware that no answer will come from those pale lips.

He drops lightly back onto the highest branch he can find, from which he surveys their surroundings. No forest this large exists in the Great Britain of today. Indeed, if his devil's eyes do not fool him, the trees extend so far beyond every horizon that this nowhere-world is probably larger – much larger – than the whole of the British Isles put together.

His eyes see nothing in all directions but forest and more forest; his senses detect not a single animal, human or demon in this place besides himself and Ciel, and not one drop of water. This is not hell – he has lived there, and knows that hell has nothing like this forest. It is not heaven – he was there a long, long time ago, and heaven has nothing like this. It is not the world of the living – nothing as devoid of animal life and moisture, but so full of trees, exists on earth.

This is not a place where the child can survive for long, once he comes to. If he comes to.

Sebastian begins to doubt that he did the right thing in holding on to him as he was dragged through the crack. Perhaps he would have been better off being tended to by Ambrose. Perhaps a doctor or magical healer in London could have ministered to him. Perhaps...

The tiniest groan reaches his sharp ears, and Ciel stirs. At once, he returns to the forest floor and holds the boy so that he can see his face.

"Young Master?" he says softly, once those beautiful blue eyes open a crack.

Ciel does not answer – perhaps he cannot answer – but he fixes his eyes on Sebastian's face, and does not once glance away.

"Why did you do something so foolish?" Sebastian asks. "You should never have put yourself in harm's way."

A ghost of a smile touches Ciel's lips, as if to say: Idiot of a devil – what else was I to do?

"Reckless brat," Sebastian mirrors the wan smile.

The blue eyes blaze, and Sebastian's smile deepens, for that flare of annoyance gives him hope that not only has the spell not harmed his master's free will, but there is strength in him which may pull him through this.

"Yes, you may punish me at your leisure for calling you names, once you are well. But first we must leave this place, and you must heal."

A small hand creeps up Sebastian's chest and rests on his shoulder, then bridges the space between his shoulder and his head, and touches the devil's cheek lightly before it falls. His eyes close again.

"Was that a caress? Or were you trying to slap me again? You can hit me all you please when you recover," the devil promises.

Ciel does not reopen his eyes.

"I no longer want to devour your soul," Sebastian growls, shaking him a little. "Don't you dare present it before me."

The boy is fading. His heartbeat is fainter than it was before. The rise and fall of his chest with his shallow breaths is barely discernible. Sebastian yearns to be on the devils' island now, for on the night he was supposed to take Ciel's soul, it healed the boy from a gunshot wound that would have been fatal. It could perhaps save him again. While most devils have no talent for healing, that island has the mysterious power to revive mortals borne onto it, so that a demon preparing to devour its master may derive the fullest pleasure from taking a life in bloom, and not a creature already at death's door, scarcely worth the killing.

"If I could take you there, I would," he whispers to the unconscious Ciel as he walks through the forest, not knowing where he is going, but needing to be on the move, as if physical motion could rock the child's life forces back into wakefulness and give his breath momentum. "I would ensure that you were healed, and I would not devour you afterwards. I wouldn't harm you, not any more."

His only answer is silence. Not a breath of wind stirs the leaves in the trees, and not a sound comes from Ciel. Something breaks inside Sebastian to think that this human in his arms shielded him with his own body, with his own life. No one, mortal or demon, had ever done that for him before. Devils show no mercy, but this particular devil has been shown mercy by someone he least expected to receive it from, and he can scarcely grasp it.

"Reckless little master," he says softly. "What were you thinking? Were you mimicking that fool Abberline's sacrifice for you? He died for you because he saw a future for you, and greater power to change the world for his unborn child than he would ever have. What were you thinking, giving yourself for one such as me?"

What kind of mortal child would try to protect a demon?

"I want you alive and well," he tells the boy. "Are you such a weakling, to die so easily? Would you do it purely to spite me? Truly?"

He keeps walking, and thinking hard, keeping all his senses at their highest level of alertness to detect some weakness in the elements that hold this world together.

"Wake up, Young Master," he tries to order the boy to return to consciousness. "Together, we can think of something. With your cunning and my strength, we could..."

That very moment, he makes out a change in the atmosphere. He looks up to see a crack of light in the sky a mile away. It reluctantly grows, as if it is being forced open. Sebastian speeds towards it, but it darkens as it is filled by someone's silhouette, then closes and disappears as the person who has forced his way through floats downward, gliding smoothly through the forest canopy to land before them.

It is Carsten who has entered this strange world.

Sebastian shifts his grip on Ciel and transfers the boy's weight to his left arm, preparing to do battle with his right.

"I have not been sent here to fight you," the other devil says in his passive, scarcely inflected voice. "I will do that only if I am obliged to in order to take the child from you."

"Why do you wish to take him from me?" Sebastian asks.

"My master will help him. Give him to me."

"I will do that only if I know that your master can save him."

"He will do his utmost."

"But can he save him?"

"I do not know," Carsten admits.

"Then I will take him back myself, to see that Ambrose does save him."

"I am not permitted to bring you back with me. My orders are to return with only the child, if he lives. If you do not yield the boy, I am to destroy you to an extent that will require centuries for you to heal from, then take him from you by force."

"I must know that Ambrose will be able to save him. What has the disruption of the spell done to him? He was pierced by the lance intended for me – what will that do to him?"

"The spell was designed to chain a devil to a human, not the other way around. The lance has done nothing that will enslave the boy to anyone. However, it has damaged his spirit. My master will attempt to remedy that."

"But you cannot assure me that he will be able to remedy it?"

"No." Carsten suddenly winces, and a look of pain crosses his face, which had been perfectly expressionless before then.

"What is wrong?" Sebastian asks suspiciously.

"This place... hurts me," Carsten rasps. "I must take the child now, and return to my master."

"What is this place, anyway?" Sebastian demands, wondering if the other devil is quite stable. "Where is it? How large is it? Are you permitted to explain that to me?"

"I am not forbidden to tell you what I know," says Carsten, slowly overcoming whatever was hurting him. "This world reaches as far in every direction as the world of the living. It is the shadow of the spell that my master perfected as he travelled the earth before he trapped me, depositing markers in every land he sojourned in. He did that to weave a net as large as the world, so that no matter where we went, or how far he unleashed me to go from him, the spell would always hold me, and I could not leave the earth without his permission. Earthly distance would never weaken the chains, or my obedience to him. As this place is the shadow of that spell, you cannot escape unless an opening is made for you, or what remains of the spell disintegrates, any more than a mortal can escape the earth by travelling north, south, east or west."

"Do the positions here correspond with the positions in the world of the living?" Sebastian questions. "If we leave this place, would we emerge in England?"

"I am not certain. This is as new to me as it is to you. But I think the positions correspond. We entered from the same place in London, and we emerged in this vicinity, rather than hundreds of miles apart. Now, I have told you what I know. Give me the boy."

"Without an assurance that he will be safe?"

"Do you not understand by now that his injuries are spiritual, not physical?" Carsten asked. "You are harming him by keeping him with you. Devils like us not only have no power to heal the human spirit, but by our very presence, will contaminate and drain a spirit that is already damaged. In his state, he will fade more quickly by your side."

Sebastian gazes at Ciel's pale face. Is it true that he is harming the boy by staying with him while he is in this condition? He cannot deny that Ciel's heartbeat and breathing have worsened since they arrived in this place.

"Give him to me. I will take him to my master," Carsten says with a firmness that Sebastian has not heard in the other devil's voice until this moment. "I do not know if he can save him, but he has a better chance with him than with you."

"I must be certain that he can be saved. Take me with you – in any condition. I will permit you to bind me, break my body – I will let your master complete the spell without interference – only let me protect the boy."

"No. My master has designed the opening I am to return by to only admit me, and the child. It will not let you pass. He has seen that the boy has formed an unhealthy attachment to you, and will fight the spell if he attempts to enslave you to him again. Therefore, he must separate you from your master. Once he completes the spell using me in your place, this world will be sealed forever, with you in it. You are to remain here, between heaven, hell and earth, for as long as you exist. And you are never to see the boy – or anyone else – again."

Sebastian considers the information Carsten has given him. He may be imprisoned here forever, utterly alone. But the alternative would be to let Ciel die here, pointlessly. After death, his soul might disappear before Sebastian's eyes to wherever the powers of the universe decide it must be bound for, or the foolish creature might struggle to keep his consciousness in this nowhere-world to be with him. What kind of eternal life would that be? Another possibility would be that he would ask Sebastian to devour him, which would in some way make him part of the devil forever, but also condemn him to a hellish consciousness forever merged with every other dark soul ever destroyed by Sebastian, never to escape the damnation of an existence without light, without hope, without love.

"Take him with you," Sebastian decides, holding Ciel out to Carsten. "Save him."

Carsten receives the boy from his fellow devil. Ciel gives a small, unconscious moan as he is handed over.

"Be careful with him. He's very delicate. He..."

Sebastian does not finish what he began to say. Carsten waits, finds no more words forthcoming from the other male, and walks away.

"Look after him well," the butler finally adds.

"It is not as if I will have a choice," Carsten returns, without looking back.

The line of light reappears in the sky above the devil holding the boy. Sebastian knows he could attempt to force his way through, regardless of whether it was designed to admit him or not. But that could mean a stand-off, and a delay. Ciel does not have much time. So he stands back and watches, expecting Carsten to leap into the air and disappear with his master. But the other devil does not move from the ground, although the doorway grows brighter, beckoning him. Sebastian wonders what he is waiting for when he sees him beginning to shudder violently, as if battling something within him, before he becomes very still.

"What are you waiting for?" Sebastian demands. "Take him to your master now."

Carsten remains still, not answering. Sebastian is about to speak to him again when he turns around and looks hard at him out of glowing amber eyes that the butler had not thought could look this much alive in a devil so subdued by magic. Sebastian's own eyes narrow as he realises that something has happened to Carsten in the time he has spent in this nowhere-world. His suspicions prove accurate when the other devil's lips stretch out in a smile.

"Yes, indeed. What am I doing?" Carsten sneers at himself in a surprised tone of voice. "It is not as if I will have a choice when I return to my master and let him bind me for another – what? fifty years? – to this ridiculous brat."

"You've broken free of the spell," Sebastian remarks, swiftly assessing how best to snatch Ciel back without hurting the boy.

"Not entirely," Carsten spits out bitterly. "I still feel its chains on me, but this place – this world that is not heaven, not hell and not earth – the shadow of the spell, as it were, is weakening my master's fifty-year hold over me. The bastard treats me like a bloody donkey."

"Go back, leave the boy with Ambrose, and get away from him. He may not be able to chain you again if you escape quickly enough," Sebastian says, watching him keenly to make sure he does not harm Ciel.

"No."

"Then take me with you, and I will shield you from Ambrose – only save the child."

"No," Carsten decides, with a heartlessly flippant smile, as he deposits Ciel rather roughly on the forest floor. "I'm not taking the brat. Ambrose designed that spell specifically to benefit the boy. If I return with him, I'm as good as chaining myself to another worthless master for several more decades – it would be like bringing along with me the new lock for my cell and presenting it to my jailer! But if I return without him, Ambrose may not be able to react as quickly when I turn on him, and either kill him, or leave him for good."

"You can take the boy with you and get away from your master," Sebastian presses. "It won't be impossible, now that you have recovered some of your independence."

"Forget it," Carsten snaps. "You're another matter, though. I've nothing against you. If you think you can trust a fellow-devil, listen to me: Once Ambrose dies without completing the spell, and the spell disintegrates, this place will crack open, and you can make your way back to the world of the living, where you may do as you please. He's a tough bastard, and could take a while to expire even without my life force sustaining him – which he's been culling from me with his magic like a parasite. But waiting for him to die won't be a problem for you. All you'll need is patience, and you'll be out of here eventually."

"I may have the time to wait, but the child doesn't," Sebastian says coldly.

"Here's my advice: Leave the brat to die. Ambrose's beliefs may have planted ideas in his head, and you never know when he'll decide to learn magical crafts and turn them against you. Give up on him, and save yourself. There are millions more mortals to amuse you for centuries to come."

Carsten prods Ciel with his foot, contemplates his pallor and fragility, and adds: "I don't know what you see in this scrawny little thing. He's as good as gone. Discard him. You do realise that your attachment to him has weakened you, don't you? You must have noticed some problems of late – like not knowing where he was? If I were in your place, I would have nothing more to do with him."

He pokes at Ciel again with the tip of his boot, and the boy's eyelids flutter weakly. Sebastian glides forward in an instant and picks Ciel up to get him away from that unkind foot. The alteration in Carsten's personality, from his suppressed state to his natural character, is vast, and Sebastian is surprised to find he hurts on Ciel's behalf to think that the boy might be served in the years to come by someone so uncaring.

Still, this individual standing before him is his best hope for saving him. So Sebastian tries again, saying: "Take him with you and leave him at a healer's. Don't even stop for Ambrose."

But the other answers: "I'm not risking being bound to him if something goes wrong with my escape. I will not take him. Goodbye."

With a grin, Carsten leaps up into the crack of light in the air high above them. Sebastian follows with the aim of forcing his way through the aperture, but it appears to sense his approach, and shuts itself off after Carsten, leaving behind no sign that it was ever there.

He drifts back to the ground, stares up at where the opening was, looks down at the dying child in his arms, and feels despair as he has not felt in ages. He does not care if at this moment, Carsten is tearing Ambrose to pieces in the town house, or fleeing from him, or if Ambrose has recaptured the devil. He only knows that there is nothing he can do for Ciel. He has no means of getting him help until Ambrose dies without finishing the spell, and the spell disintegrates. How long will that take? A minute? An hour? A year? Ten years? His master may not have as much as an hour left.

He searches the sky and forest for a sign that something is breaking open to give them a route of escape. But everything remains firmly intact. Carsten cannot have succeeded in killing Ambrose or shattering the spell.

Ciel's heartbeat fades a little more. Remembering what Carsten said about his demonic energy doing damage to mortals with spiritual injuries, Sebastian contemplates setting Ciel down under a tree and searching for a way out before coming back for him. But he cannot accept the thought of leaving his side. The child has the worst knack for getting into trouble when left alone, and Sebastian will not chance any more problems.

If he searches hard enough, and fast enough, for a weakness in the boundaries of the spell's shadow, then he can bear his master quickly to someone who might be able to heal him. Keeping in mind Carsten's speculation that the physical spaces in this place could correspond to those on earth, Sebastian tries to orientate himself so that if he does find a crack somewhere, he will be able to gauge if they will emerge in England, or on the Continent, or in the middle of the ocean. It is nearly impossible, for he has no idea which of the ways might match the directions of the compass on earth. No, it does not matter. He will do his best. Even if they land in the middle of the most expansive sea in the world, he will leap from wave to wave and make his way to someone who knows how to heal the wounds afflicting the boy.

He sails into the air and flies from treetop to treetop, his feet finding clever purchase on both the most delicate of twigs and the sturdiest of branches to launch himself to the next spot, and the next, all the while scanning his surroundings with his eyes, nose and other senses, searching for an opening. He can see and feel the spaces around them for miles in every direction as he travels, but no opportunity emerges. He circles round, hoping that he is keeping within the bounds of what would correspond with the British Isles, France, and other parts of the Continent close to advanced human civilisation, someplace where help will be within easy reach.

He makes a great arc in minutes, finally returning to where they began. Nothing in the air or on the ground has revealed a weakness in its magical structure. He leaps as high into the night sky as he can and slashes at it as his fingernails grow into sharp claws, but those claws rend nothing that can be opened by him. Needing to try all means, although he knows his efforts may be futile, he descends to the forest floor, puts Ciel down, takes off his own coat, and carefully wraps the boy in it to keep him warm.

He begins to dig with his bare hands, displacing yards of earth and creating a hole many feet deep, then deeper still. But his nose soon tells him that he could tunnel down for miles, and never find an opening that would lead him back to Ciel's world. It is not a physical doorway he needs to break through, but a magical one.

He digs a few feet more, accepts at last the futility of it, and leaps out of the hole to return to Ciel's side. His hands are so dirty that he does not want to contaminate his master with the soil. No water is here for him to wash with, so he stands aside and waits patiently till his demon's skin has cleared all the dirt off it with its supernatural powers, and he is clean again, before kneeling beside Ciel to whisper: "Forgive me. I have failed."

Cradling the boy in his arms, he begins to walk, like a man who hopes his restless infant child will sleep peacefully as he paces the floor of the nursery. Only that his hopes are quite the reverse: that his sleeping child will awaken as he paces the forest floor.

"That foolish devil asked what I saw in you," he murmurs in a monologue to the unconscious boy as he measures the endless forest with his footsteps. "Do you know what I admire in you? I admire your courage. Your strength of character. Your determination. Your intelligence. Your compassion. You think I understand nothing of compassion, but I understand it very well, although I have not practised it before this time. I grudgingly admire the instinct you have to protect the truly innocent without regard for yourself, the way you protected Elizabeth. I genuinely admire your ruthlessness with individuals such as me, and your cruelty to the wicked. I admire your nobility, and your dignity, and how you never indulge in self-pity. There. That is what I see in you."

Ciel stirs slightly, but does not awaken.

"And of course, you are quite beautiful in face and form."

Sebastian fights to keep a firm grip on himself. Surrendering to despair will not help the boy.

"I could have broken the spell after it was completed," he mutters. "I could have tried to fight it, with a better chance of breaking it than you would have of surviving that lance. Why did you risk yourself for a butler so worthless that he cannot help you now?"

The boy's heartbeat grows fainter, slower. Sebastian wraps his arms tightly around him and rests the earl's head on his shoulder.

"Live, and grow up, and take all the wives and lovers you want. I'll always be with you. That night on the island, I told you that I would be by your side only if we were in a contract. I meant it then, but I no longer wish it to be so. Even when you no longer want me, I will watch over you. And when at last you die an old man, I will follow your soul wherever it goes, only to remain with you. But for now, live. Your time cannot have come. I did not spare you only to watch you separate your soul from your body now. Your soul is your consciousness, your memories and the truest essence of your nature, and that is all very well and good – but everything is different while one is still in the body, do you know that? You have so much more to do, and learn, and love."

He turns his face towards the head on his shoulder and presses a kiss to the boy's temple. His life is slipping away, literally out of Sebastian's hands, and something deep inside the devil cracks.

He stares up at the false moon and the false night sky, and knows that there is nothing more he can do for the child. Nothing within his own power. Except... perhaps... to ask for that which is beyond his own power. It is not anything that a devil would do. But what else is left? How ridiculous to even contemplate it. Absurd. Stupid. Yet, what more remains?

He shifts Ciel in his embrace again so that he can look at his face, and knows that he will try anything – anything – to let him live as long as, or even longer than he was meant to.

"Please," he utters, inaudibly at first, staring down at the ground.

He does not know how to do this. It is all wrong – a devil, praying? Praying to what? To whom? But it is all he has now, in his moment of desperation – not for himself, but for someone else – so he lifts his face to the night sky and begs with all the sincerity in his demon heart: "Please!"

He waits. Nothing happens. He laughs silently, bitterly. Of course it would not work. Who would listen to the prayers of a demon?

He bows his head, presses another kiss to the boy's hair, and lowers himself to the ground in defeat. It is over. The child is barely alive. He will watch him die, perhaps communicate with his soul for a time, then when Ambrose expires at last, far too late, he will gather Ciel Phantomhive's corpse, or his bones, and return them to the world of the living, where he will bury him with his own hands on the grounds of the manor, where the boy has always preferred to be...

Something shifts in the atmosphere.

Sebastian looks up, hardly daring to hope. There. A crack of golden light. Right there, above them, near the moon. He does not hesitate. He soars into the air, aims for the light, and flies through the gap. For a moment after emerging on the other side, he is quite disoriented, so hard is it to believe that he has borne his little master out of that vast prison. Where are they? Where?

He looks around him, scents the air, and can scarcely believe his good fortune – they are in London, in a familiar place, for it is along the route they flew over on the night they were pursuing Susan Rothstein's succubus.

"Thank you," he whispers into the night, although he does not like to think too deeply about who he is thanking.

Not far away is the church where they first met John Jarvis, the vicar with the ginger cat. And Sebastian knows at once what he must do to save Ciel from the spiritual injuries draining the life from him. As a demon, he has no power to heal this child. But perhaps someone much, much more accustomed to prayer than he is can do something to help.

Someone with a kind heart, who loves cats.

Sebastian clutches Ciel to his chest and whispers to him: "Hold on, Young Master. Please hold on a moment more."

With his precious burden in his arms, the devil sprints towards the church.
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Devilish Impulses