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Just a soul; your next meal, Sebastian (a name he’d have to get used to) murmurs, as he sends the occultists to the bowels of hell. A young boy - barely double-digits - stands just behind him.
“Ciel,” he introduces himself as. His eyes are haunted and look far too old for one so young, but it isn’t Sebastian’s place to mention it.
“Where to now, Young Master?”
“I just want to get out of here,” his new master says, eyes averting from the table in the middle of the room.
The boy’s mirror image lay on the cold, metal slab. Eyes glazed over and stomach torn open. Sebastian never had a brother, and the concept of family is seen as unnecessary by his kind. But he feels a sort of pity for his new master. He refuses to dwell on pointless matters such as that, and shakes any thought of such from his mind.
“Yes my Lord.” He makes a show of bowing down, placing a gloved hand over his heart.
——
Just a soul, he mutters to himself in the wee hours of the morning. Dawn is just beyond the horizon, there’s much to be done. And, yet, Sebastian can’t bring himself to move. Ciel lay curled up next to him tangled in the covers. One tiny fist keeping a firm grasp on his waistcoat.
Removing himself from the young master’s grip would be easier than ninety-percent of the tasks Ciel put him through. But he remembers the tortured screams that came from this boy, this young child. He remembers how terrified Ciel looked when Sebastian gently shook him awake. Remembers how violently his young charge shook as he woke up.
“Sebastian?” Ciel had asked, staring down at his blankets.
“Yes, young Master?”
“Sit with me until I fall asleep.” The order takes him by surprise. He was no stranger to standing in the corner of the room until the child fell asleep, although it’s been a minute since any order of the sort has been uttered.
“Of course, my young Lord.”
It doesn’t take long for Ciel to fall back to sleep. Even with the expressed order completed, Sebastian finds himself sitting on the edge of the bed, with his back to Ciel. His ears listened intently for any signs of distress. When, after hours of nothing, he decided to leave his young Master alone, a tiny hand shot out, grasped the back of his shirt, and refused to let go.
So there he sits. A to-do list a mile long that needs starting (because surely no one else would get through the list as efficiently and effectively as him). Servants that need waking for their morning chores. And meal plans that need, well, planning.
Despite these things needing to be urgently done, Sebastian can’t find it within himself to care. What’s a couple more hours to a demon?
——
Just a soul he whispers to no one in the dead of night. They are miles from home, and Ciel is in the throes of a severe asthma attack. His wheezing is getting louder and heartbeat is speeding up. Sebastian holds him, unsure of how to help and what’s exactly going on.
Every so often a person will pass them on the street. A weird grimace on their face, like Ciel’s a child throwing a temper tantrum in the sweet shop. And not a fellow human being who’s clearly not well. Sebastian wants to scream at them to help.
He doesn’t, and Ciel eventually settles down. The rise-and-fall of his chest more even. His heart isn’t hammering against its confines. Sebastian needs to get him home before another one occurs. Ciel is fighting unconsciousness, head lulling to the side.
A couple men pass them by as Sebastian starts down the street. But, unlike the others (who at the very least kept their opinions to themselves), these men couldn’t help but comment on the duo.
“Oh, he looks dead.”
It takes every bit of willpower to continue walking. But the man’s words stick with Sebastian even days later.
He finds himself being extra attentive to Ciel in the days following the attack. If Ciel notices, he doesn’t say anything.
——
Just a soul, but he finds himself checking in on Ciel. Making sure he’s safe and sound. After all, what kind of butler would he be if he couldn’t ensure his young master’s safety at all hours.
He hires Finny, Baldroy, and Mey-rin to help with that very task, and - despite their faults in their day-to-day chores - they take keeping Ciel safe very seriously. At times Sebastian morbidly wonders if they’d protect the young master from him if it came down to it. Not that it would matter, even with their combined strength and agility, he could easily overpower them.
Which led him to thinking about other supernatural threats. What if he wasn’t here to protect Ciel, and something bigger and badder than the three servants decided to ambush the manor. The servants, at best, would be incapacitated - they would, at least, have somewhat of a chance to survive. But Ciel….
….Ciel wouldn’t even have a fighting chance. In spite of his vicious spirit and cunning smarts, he is still very much a defenseless child when it comes down to it.
So Sebastian does what he can to limit trips that would keep him away from Ciel for extended periods of time.
The plan isn’t fool proof, but it at least gives any powerful enemies less room to attack Ciel.
--
Just a soul, but he finds himself rubbing his back after the real Ciel comes back. They’re sitting in a back room in Lau’s opium den, hiding out from Scotland Yard. The other servants are hovering around the pair, not touching the young master, but silently watching over the hyperventilating teen.
Ciel mutters to himself, the words sounding like a mantra. “I did it. I did it. I did it.”
The servants can only hazard a guess as to what Ciel exactly “did”. Only Sebastian understands, but he makes sure his face matches the other threes - looking utterly confused and dumbfounded.
Later that night, after the rest of the servants have cleared the room, and the opium den has settled into an uneasy silence, Sebastian talks to his sleeping master. The boy finally fell asleep, still in his day clothes. Given the circumstances, though, it’s not like they have any spare clothes, so he supposes they’ll have to make do. Still, on the run or not, the cravat Ciel wears could potentially choke him in his sleep. So he makes sure to remove it, along with the boy's shoes and socks. Placing the items neatly under the windowsill. The cravat is folded and placed on the nightstand.
He covers Ciel up to his chin.
“Young Master,” he says, not expecting an answer. “You didn’t kill him. Maybe you summoned me, and maybe you were the reason I ate his soul. But you didn’t kill him. No one here blames you for that.” Sebastian inwardly cringes at how that came out, but it is true. And it’s not like he can lie to Ciel. Even if placing the blame of that caliber on the shoulders of a barely fourteen-year-old is unfair.
Oh, well, at least he tried. Sebastian sighs as he sits down in a chair in the furthest corner in the room. Human children are more work than expected. He’s had masters that were parents, but most of them were either grown up or estranged. The few that had an active role in the child’s life, kept Sebastian away from them - for a good reason. Demons and child-rearing do not mix. Humans are no more than bugs, mere insects to their kind. Playthings that provide entertainment and nourishment.
But as he sits in that chair, watching the rise and fall of Ciel’s chest, he can’t help but wonder if he’s gotten attached.