A/N: First dip into Kuroshitsuji fanfiction. So I did a little introspective (because I think they're fun to write). It jumps around a tad, and you'll find details missing, but that is how it is supposed to be. Fill in the blanks, I'm sure you're capable. Have fun with it. Think of it like Mad Libs.

Define Humanity

It's cold. It's cold. It's cold.

I don't know if I'm talking about the cage or my heart.

I also don't care. I can't remember warmth, not real, human warmth, anyway. I know the warmth of flowing blood, the pain it brings with it.

I've heard pain proves a man to be alive. This pain only makes me cold. It should follow that I'm not a man. Perhaps I'm a monster?

The other lambs herded for the slaughter look listless. I wonder if they feel the chill creeping into their beings? I don't care enough to ask. I don't care about anything.

That's not true. There is only one thing I care about.

These men and women in masquerade masks...I care for their demise.

My hatred for them contains heat. However, it is as inhuman as the pain-laced, bleeding wounds.

Humans shouldn't hate so much as I do. Not proper humans. I'm a monster, so it should be okay if I do. Their masquerade ball can only last so long before my hatred engulfs them all. Let the eternal Hellfire claim their ill souls.

Ha, souls. I forgot that a pure soul doesn't exist in this world. The human soul is a tainted, ugly thing. In that way, perhaps it is almost beautiful.

They called me beautiful, once, back when I thought their adorned masks were as well.

And then they began to hurt me; me and all the other children. They hurt in ways that were expected, they hurt in ways that were less than normal, and they hurt in ways that were certainly, sinfully wrong. And I'm their favorite.

God died here. He's not coming back.

I don't know how long I've been here. Long enough for me to grow cold, corpse-like. I am a monster, cold to the touch. Who is Ciel Phantomhive? Did he die along with his mother and father in that wretched inferno? At least fire is warm.

I am a monster. I am inhabiting the shell of Ciel Phantomhive.

And this monster will devour them all. A monster's first priority is self-preservation. To survive, this monster will have to feed.

The unused altar seems to be the focus of today. I'm glad. I'm still sore from their wrongdoing. This monster will not forgive their perversion, their violation. It will also not forgive the branding. The monster does not belong to humans.

Eat them all. Devour them. Kill them.

The brand aches, the skin still tender even though the burn is hardly new. But it is nothing in comparison to my hatred for these people.

My mouth is dry with my thirst for vengeance. I prefer it served by a bloody-red hand.

They are so excited. What do they want with us, me? These humans, what torment did their asinine mentality conjure this time?

The heavy cage door opens with a rattling creak. It is a sound that both excites and frightens me. On one hand there is freedom, and the other holds agony in a tight grasp.

Bring it on, ma'ams and sirs. I'm not afraid of you. No monster fears a mortal man or woman.

I'm their favorite. I'm not surprised I'm the only one they drag from the cage. I'm only a little confused when I'm placed upon the altar. The cold stone makes me shiver. I'm already cold, how much more heat can be stolen away through bruised skin?

Oh well. The cold is but a trifle. The hands holding me down are old news.

I feel eyes on me, many, many eyes. Their gazes creep from behind jeweled masks. The minority of stares come from the weary eyes of the other beast-children. I'm sure I'm the greater monster. I'm their king.

I can hear one of my human captors speaking; his voice lilts with the extravagance of his speech. What a grandstander. I don't listen, for I don't care. Humans lie, and I don't want to listen to the swill cascading from his sinful lips. He has disrespected me in every clearly defined way. He deserves the same.

Vile, worthless creature. I doubt he'll burn brightly.

Something catches in the light of their many candles. It takes only a slight turn of the head to see it.

A knife. It is finely ornamented and looks very, very sharp.

I'm struck so cold that I'm numb.

Monsters don't fear humans. They don't fear the weaponry of humans. They don't fear.

So why does that blade rattle me so?

It strikes me, then. I'm not a monster. I am a human being with a black-tinted soul and mere moments left to live.

God is dead. God is dead. God is dead.

As the knife slashes down I realize that so am I.

I don't feel the initial slice. It isn't until a sharp copper scent reaches my nose that I begin to feel again-and it hurts so much that I scream. There is blood, hot, and pain, hotter. The two were always together in the past, so why would I think being gutted like an animal would prove differently?

The answer is simple: I am human. I am human and I am stupid.

This infuriates me more than I thought possible.

Then I hear it; my ears pick up a faint humming coming from a place I can't discern. The sound is soothing, the pain erupting in my abdomen hazing over to a dull throbbing. It throbs to my heart beat.

The hard stone at my back vanishes. I feel something soft instead. Feathers are spread everywhere, like an avian rug, and suspended in time. They are all blindingly white and I don't know why that is strange.

I don't mind.

I see it, the source of the humming. When it realizes I've noticed it, the hum cuts short. My pain stays at bay.

And it grins.

My father's work isn't very hard, really. I keep the businesses afloat by a marginal degree and put down the rabid dogs that have overstayed their welcomes. The orders come from the Queen herself.

I can do this because I am alive and because I am human.

The mansion has been lively since my return. Sebastian and I gathered a select group of individuals for housekeeping. Their specialized skills should be most helpful in preventing another fire or other such tragedy. We've also found Mr. Tanaka, Father's old head butler. He is reliable, but not so much as Sebastian, and that is why he is not my head butler.

No, Sebastian has taken his former duties. Sebastian is my one of a kind chess piece. With him at my disposal, I can traverse the entire board. Nothing stands in my way.

For, so long ago, Sebastian proved that to me in a manner that I will not soon forget. I still hear the screams of men and women I never even saw the faces of.

Some days he will grin at me in a way so reminiscent of the day my eyes first saw him, back when I did not have a seal hidden beneath an eye patch.

This grin reminds me that I am human, always will be a measly insect, just like the others, and that monsters with the power to devour mankind do exist. They are the enemies of a dead God and all His angels. They are the demons.

Sebastian is Hell's finest.

And he is mine.