He missed his realm. He missed his office, and his work, and his friends. Most of all, he missed his partner. Each night, Alan dreamed of him. It was the only time he knew peace and comfort, in this place. He dreamed of his wavy golden hair, his handsome Gaelic features, his deep laugh and the way his accent slipped out when they were alone or when he got especially agitated or drunk. He thought of his strong, tall body and the Celtic tattoos he'd gotten over the years. On his right shoulder was an inking of a Celtic cross, while his left bicep sported knotwork encircling it. Twin dragons adorned his back on either side of his spine, facing one another. Those he'd added a couple of years after they'd become lovers, representing the two of them.

Alan himself had no such body art, but he'd always admired the way it looked on Eric's built frame. The more he thought of him, the more he missed him. He couldn't be sure how long he'd been a prisoner in Hell now; the days were hard to count. He knew it had been over a year…perhaps two, now.

After another day of running errands, tending the Duke and avoiding the advances of several demons, Alan cleaned up, ate and retired to his small sleeping chambers in the Court of Bones. In the interest of keeping his servant alive, the Duke was at least courteous enough to see to it he got the food, drink and rest his body required. He even seemed to have grown a bit fond of his reaper servant, though Alan had seen him rip apart lesser demons that dared to offend him and he wasn't about to presume he wouldn't do the same to him if he ever displeased him enough.

He collapsed on his narrow bed and he pulled the covers up to his chin, before putting out the wall sconce hanging beside it. Lighting in this place didn't seem to require fuel of any sort, though he suspected something had to be feeding it…and he wasn't sure he wanted to know what that something was. Watching damned human souls get devoured or put into slavish servitude to earn the chance to become demons and thus save their own existence was a terrible thing, and it happened every day here. What sort of demon they would become should they pass all grueling tests without getting eaten first depended on the individual soul.

"Eric," whispered the captive reaper, shutting his eyes. If he fell asleep thinking of his lover, sometimes the nightmares wouldn't come and he would instead have beautiful dreams of his life with the Scotsman, and his home.

His dreams were of the sensual kind that night—so vivid Alan could actually feel the caress of his lover's fingertips on his body. He moaned in his sleep, ignoring his mind's coldly logical reminders that he was still in Hell and Eric couldn't be further out of his reach right now. He whispered the Scotsman's name, running his fingers through the thick, wavy mane of his blond hair as velvety lips kissed his cheeks, jaw and throat. A strong body covered his and Alan embraced it, needing it like a starving man needed sustenance.

"I miss you," he whispered into the dark, stroking the other man's back. "I want to come home to you, Eric."

The kisses stopped, and a voice that did not belong to the man Alan so desperately wanted to touch again spoke. "Wake up, little reaper. I suspect you've been entangled in your own sad dreams."

Alan frowned and blinked open his eyes. Hovering over him was not a handsome, tawny Scotsman—but a pale and beautiful male demon with long, straight raven hair falling forward to tickle his skin. His ram-like horns curved out from either side of the top of his head, the tips of which ended just above his slightly pointed ears. The demon smiled at him, revealing sharp canines. His magenta eyes were glowing with lust and his slit pupils were slightly dilated. The soft blackness of his wings were like a feathered canopy over the two of them.

With a gasp, Alan pushed at Mordecai's partly bared chest. As per usual, the raven demon wore his typical black outfit that fit him like a second skin and opened into an immodest V shape down the front, exposing him from chest to navel.

"W-what are you doing in my chambers?" huffed the reaper, unable to dislodge the tall, toned body lying atop his.

Mordecai's thin, straight brows hedged slightly. "Why, you invited me."

"I…I did no such thing," insisted Alan, face flushing. Dear gods, he'd almost…they could have…

"But you did," persisted the raven. "I passed by your chambers on my way to…ahem…visit a friend, and I heard you making the most interesting noises. When I called out to you through the little window, you told me not to make you wait…and so I let myself in and came to you."

He grinned mischievously. "And then you reached out for me and asked me to make love to you."

Alan's mouth was agape. "I wouldn't! I didn't! It wasn't you I was calling for, if I'd called out at all. Please, get off of me."

Mordecai sighed with obvious disappointment, but he complied. He sat on the edge of the bed and he boldly reached out to pluck Alan's glasses off the little table beside it, sniffing them curiously before putting them on. He squinted as he looked through them. "Reaper eyesight really is pitiful."

Alan snatched the glasses off the raven's face and put them on. "It's a trade-off for our other abilities. Would you please keep your hands off my meager belongings, Mordecai?" Odd as it was, Mordecai was probably the closest thing he had to a friend in this place; but he'd been trying to court him since his first day of servitude and while he hadn't tried to force himself on him, Alan was getting accustomed to his seduction attempts. Sometimes he was almost like a playful child. Other times, he was this sensual creature that might have had a chance with him, if Alan weren't so in love with a certain Scotsman.

"I was only curious," excused the demon. He watched Alan as the reaper struggled into a sitting position and ignited the wall sconce. "I can see your mate in your mind's eye. I cannot blame you for pining for him. He's quite the specimen, isn't he? Very male…very attractive."

Alan wasn't sure how one person could be more "male" than another, but Eric was quite masculine…and charming. "I would appreciate it if you would keep your 'minds-eye' to yourself—as well as your hands. Those memories are private."

"Then you should try to conceal them better," stated Mordecai seriously. He shrugged gracefully, his midnight wings stretching a little before folding tightly back in. "You dream of him often, yes?"

Alan lowered his gaze and nodded, bending one pajama-clad leg and hugging it with his arms. "All the time. I'll never forget him."

"Hmm, a shame," sighed the demon. "I'm afraid I don't understand this concept you speak of so often…this 'love'. We demons can be loyal, and we can grow fond of our associates, but we aren't designed to love. Such a thing seems limited to your kind and the mortals, I'm afraid."

"Yes, yes," sighed Alan. "I get reminded at every term how 'mortal-like' I am…and teased for it."

Mordecai tilted his head slowly, his unblinking gaze making Alan want to squirm. "I don't like it when you are sad, little reaper. You're much more fun when you are inquisitive, or telling me stories of your days as a death god agent. Though I admit, I feel some jealousy when you speak of your lion."

"My…lion?" At once, he realized whom the demon was speaking of, and a nostalgic little smile briefly twitched on his lips. "Oh. Eric."

Mordecai closed his eyes and inhaled slowly. "The way you speak his name; like a caress. I think I would like it if you ever spoke my name that way."

"I'm sorry," whispered Alan politely, "but that will never happen."

"Why not?" pursued the raven. "What does your golden reaper have that I don't? Well, other than a tan and facial hair."

Alan almost smiled at that too, but his eyes grew sad as they gazed into the inquisitive demon's. "He has my heart, and that isn't going to change."

"And there you go again," grumbled Mordecai. "Speaking of things I cannot fathom. If he had your heart, you would be dead, yes?"

Alan snorted a little with amusement. "I don't mean literally. It's a metaphor for love…and that goes beyond the loyalty you spoke of just a moment ago."

"And you never mate with anyone else?" Mordecai looked perplexed. "Only each other? Even mated pairs amongst my kind don't keep only to each other."

Alan sighed. "Think of it like a contract. We are monogamous, Eric and I. You wouldn't have two different masters at once, would you? I mean, if you were permitted to go to the mortal realm to make a contract with a mortal."

Like himself, Mordecai was stuck in Hell for a century—punishment for something he hadn't yet revealed to Alan, and the reaper had yet to ask. The demon seemed to grasp the concept a little better with that explanation. "Hmm, interesting. But you will be here for a century, will you not? How can you be so certain your mate will hold the same standard of loyalty until you can return?"

Alan started to vehemently state that Eric would remain faithful to him, but he hesitated a moment. Before they got together, the Scotsman had quite the extensive dating record, and though it hurt him to think of Eric bedding someone else, he could never hate him for relieving his needs during his absence. "I can't," he confessed softly, "but as for myself, I will remain loyal to him, all the same."

"I see." Mordecai tapped his claws on his leather-encased knee. "What a good mate you are, Alan. Holding your vow to him so diligently. It makes you even more appealing to me."

When the reaper gave him a warning look, the raven chuckled and spread his hands. "Fear not. I have plenty of other selections with which to amuse myself…though I shall continue to persuade you. It's merely in my nature."

"Persuade all you like," muttered Alan. "My answer won't change."

"But I'll still enjoy the challenge, all the same." Mordecai smiled. "What if you could see your golden lion again?"

Alan frowned at him. "I can't leave until my indenture is over with. Unless he can arrange a conjugal visit to this plane, I can't imagine that happening again before then."

"Oh?" Mordecai smiled again, and his form began to blur and shift before Alan's eyes. His wings shrank and vanished, his horns did the same, and his features and build changed. Within moments, Alan found himself looking at a perfect image of his beloved partner—right down to the blue-tinted glasses he wore.

"E-Eric?" whispered Alan, stunned.

The Scotsman smiled handsomely at him.

Alan scooted closer, his senses confused with longing and heartache. He hadn't seen that face in the flesh since he'd bartered himself to the Duke, and he reached out hesitantly to touch the bigger reaper's strong jaw, brushing his thumb over the tuft facial hair on his chin. Real. It felt so real…looked so real. For a moment he forgot himself, convinced he'd fallen back into a dream. When Eric cupped the back of his head with a gloved hand to draw him into a kiss, Alan didn't resist.

It wasn't until the Scotsman's tongue slipped into his mouth to explore that the captive reaper came to his senses. Wrong. Eric didn't kiss this way. While the motions of his lips and tongue were surely sensual, it lacked the assertiveness and passion he was used to from his partner. When Eric kissed him, it was like he was making love to his mouth, and he usually purred or hummed in his throat with delight. This kiss was cajoling…coaxing. Eric didn't coax…he took. He ravished Alan's mouth when he kissed him, leaving his breathless and putty-like in his arms until his body completely surrendered and he was left practically begging to be claimed.

Alan shoved away with a gasp, mortified that he'd almost fallen for it. "Don't…do that. You aren't him. Never look like him again!"

The illusion vanished quickly, and Mordecai once again sat before him. The demon looked confused. "This was not what you wanted? You said you would only mate with your lion. I thought—"

"No!" Alan's vision blurred with tears and he sniffed. "That isn't how it works! That wasn't an invitation for you to try and trick me!"

"I was only trying to give you what I thought you need," the raven pointed out, "not trick you."

"I don't need your glamour…or illusion…or whatever you just did! I need him, understand? It isn't as simple as looking like him. You aren't him. Y-you aren't…him."

"Your eyes are leaking again," observed Mordecai, "and your voice is trembling."

Alan wiped at said eyes with a shaking hand, inadvertently smearing his tears against the interior of his lenses. "I've told you before; it's called 'crying'. Just like when mortals do it. You've upset me."

"That was not my intent." To his credit, Mordecai sounded unhappy with the result of his actions…almost regretful.

Alan tried to calm down, reminding himself that this creature couldn't understand human and reaper emotions. "I…I know you meant well for me," he said with a swallow. There wasn't really such a thing as "good intentions" when it came to demons, but this was probably the closest thing to it that he'd witnessed during his time on this plane. "You have to try to understand though; it isn't what I want. Even if you can't comprehend what it is that I need, at least accept that this wasn't it. Please, leave me alone. I want to be alone."

Mordecai got up slowly and went to the chamber door. He glanced back over his shoulder at the miserable reaper, his sculpted features hesitant. "I dislike it when your eyes leak," he stated. "That is, when you 'cry'. I shall try not to be the cause of it again, Alan."

With that said, the demon left and closed the door behind him. Alan curled up in his bed and he hugged his flimsy pillow, shutting his eyes and trying to pretend it was Eric.

Undertaker nudged the still body lying in the alley between his shop and the book shop next door. He frowned. "You dead, bloke?"

He'd sensed a death occur nearby, but there was no aura clinging to this man. The mortician knelt down and felt for a pulse. Finding none, he deduced that he was so much cooling meat. "Now, that's a bit odd."

He glanced around to be sure nobody was nearby, and he summoned his death scythe. "Let's see what's inside, eh?"

He poked a small hole in the body's shoulder. Nothing came out, except for a sluggish flow of blood. There were no records to be had.

"Hmm." Undertaker sat back on his haunches and considered it, reaching out with his senses. There were traces of a demon aura nearby...but they were faint. Whatever form of hellspawn got to this fellow, they'd masked their aura well. Couldn't be Sebastian; he was still in the service of Ciel Phantomhive and choosing to starve himself, rather than snack on what he considered "lesser souls" while waiting for the day he could dine on his master.

"Or could he have finally broken and settled for an appetizer?" wondered the ancient aloud. It didn't seem likely. Michaelis was exceptionally stoic and patient—which meant there was a good possibility that Undertaker had an unknown demon lurking around his block of the city. It was no wonder an agent of Dispatch hadn't shown up yet—the death list would have had a line scratched through this poor bastard's name with a note that his soul was no longer available for reaping.

"Well, I s'pose there's nothing for it, except to give the yard a call and have 'em come pick you up," he said conversationally to the empty shell. "Wouldn't do t' leave you rotting in my alley, attracting bacteria and such. Not to worry, chap. You'll probably wind up on my table anyway, once they realize there's no obvious cause of death."

He got up with a grunt and he cast another look around, before banishing his scythe. Whoever the demon was that had fed on this mortal didn't seem to be around anymore. Still, he thought he'd better keep a sharp eye on his territory, just in case it came back. Some demons ate and moved on, while others lingered in an area for a bit after finding juicy pickings.

"Darling, I've been waiting for you for over an hour," complained Grell when the Undertaker finally came home to his shop. He put his hands on his hips and he batted his long eyelashes at the mortician. "Did you forget that I was taking a half day off to spend with you?"

Undertaker grimaced, glancing at the clock on the wall. "Oh my...I did, too! So sorry, love. There was a problem with a body in the alley that I had to address and I lost track of the time."

Grell sighed and approached him to slip his arms around his neck. "I suppose I can forgive you...this time. I'm just happy to get out of that office a bit early. I was assigned to work with Eric as my partner today and it was just awful!"

"Oh really?" The Undertaker rubbed Grell's slender back soothingly. "I'd heard Officer Slingby was one of the better agents to have at your side on the field."

"He was. He is still, but the man is so morose these days." Grell shook his head and lowered his gaze. "He's also become rather reckless—and for me to say such a thing, you know it must be serious."

"Hmm. Well, his cute li'l partner is trapped in Hell. Can't really blame the man for being a bit of a grump."

"Yes, but Alan's imprisoned, not dead! I keep trying to remind him of that but he doesn't want to discuss Humphries at all. It's like just hearing his name pains him." Grell drew patterns on the mortician's chest with his fingertips. "I am not normally one to be overly sympathetic, my love, but I do feel for him. How much longer must we wait for Will to make a decision about this?"

"Have you talked to the bloke about it since we discussed those options?" pressed Undertaker. "Will's a busy reaper and you just might have to give him a nudge and a reminder."

"True," sighed Grell. "That man is so uptight. I honestly can't recall the last time he took a day off."

"He did for our wedding," reminded the Undertaker with a smirk. "Poor chap looked like he didn't know what to do with himself. Pity he treats relaxation like a crime."

"Yes, Will's always been that way." Grell smirked back. "I think Ronnie is beginning to have a positive effect on him, though. I swear I almost saw William crack a smile at him the other day! I honestly don't know how Knox does it."

"So I take it you don't resent him for being with Spears?" Undertaker ran his nails though Grell's crimson locks, painfully aware of the crush his spouse had harbored on the stiff, tall brunet over the years.

"No," sighed Grell. "I could never resent Ronald of all people...nor can I blame him for falling for Will. I have you now, and I've grudgingly accepted that they seem to be quite good for each other. I can even admit that they make a handsome couple."

Undertaker nodded and he lowered his mouth to Grell's for a kiss. "Good. Just making sure of where I stand, darlin'."

Grell chuckled against his lips and he leaned in closer to him, pressing his body flush against the mortician's. "You stand with me, handsome ghost. I'd have it no other way." He teasingly licked the Undertaker's pale lips, his tongue daintily tracing the contours.

The Undertaker held Grell tighter and he deepened the kiss, parting his lips to caress Grell's probing tongue with his own. He swelled in his pants and he lifted his spouse, beginning to carry him through the curtain in the back of the shop. "Oh, wait," he breathed, remembering the front door was unlocked. "Don't move, lovely. I'll be right back."

Grell watched with a dreamy expression as the mortician hurried to the door to lock it up tight, eliminating the risk of anyone interrupting their activities. He was back at Grell's side in a flash and he scooped him up bridestyle and claimed his lips again. "Now, where were we?"

"I believe you were just about to ravish me," purred Grell.

"Mm, good place to be."

Grinning playfully at the reaper in his arms, the Undertaker carried Grell through the curtains and into the living space in the back of the building. Truthfully he could have moved in with Grell after they wedded, but it was more convenient for him to keep living in his shop. Grell didn't seem to mind that it wasn't as roomy as his old apartment and they'd stored what belongings of his they couldn't fit in the home interior up in the attic. Undertaker had plans to expand the living space eventually, possibly adding a bathroom to the attic and another bed for guests, should anyone come to stay with them. For now they made due with what they had and he was fine with that.

He carried Grell through the kitchen and down the hall to the bedroom—which he'd never really used before he and Grell became lovers. Dropping the redhead onto the pink and black satin sheets, Undertaker covered his body with his own and he kissed him passionately, more than eager to make love to him again.

"Oh, darling," sighed Grell between kisses, his hands eagerly working to free the mortician from his clothing.

For the moment, nothing else existed to them except each other, and soon the air was filled with the sounds of their mutual pleasure and need.

"Mr. Slingby, I cannot simply send an army of agents into Hell to rescue your partner," William said when the Scotsman came to his office to again prompt him to take action. "You know that company policies don't allow for it, and we cannot risk the lives of our agents when there are already so few of us to begin with. The demon realm is off limits to us, just as our realm is off limits to their kind."

"Yet they came to our realm to fight off the invading angels," reminded Eric. His accent started coming through with his mounting agitation. "Ya didnae object too strongly when tha' happened, boss."

"Nonsense," scoffed William. "I objected quite vehemently, if you recall. I would almost rather existence end than accept their aid and you know that perfectly well. Regardless, Humphries made a deal with them and we must honor that. We cannot start a war with Hell, no matter how much we would like our colleague to be free."

"But it's no' a fair contract!" snapped Eric. He stood up and paced the floor with agitation. "In tha end it wasnae tha demons tha' stopped 'em from taking tha library; it was Gabriel. Tha' should make their bloody contract invalid, shouldn't it?" That was Grell and Undertaker's logic anyway, and Eric clung to it like a lifeline because it was his best hope of freeing Alan from a century of servitude to the duke he'd bargained with.

William scratched his chin with a gloved hand, one eyebrow lifting elegantly. "That is an interesting point, but whatever makes you think their kind will accept it and agree to free him? They are demons, Eric Slingby. They aren't likely to negotiate with our kind for the release of one of our own, even if the situation truly does render the contract null and void."

"Ye've got tae at least let me try, Will," insisted Eric, stopping to put his hands on William's desk and bend over to look him in the eye. "Wha' if it were Ronnie, eh? Wouldn't ya do anything in yer power tae free him?"

He hated to throw that at his boss—especially since Ronald Knox happened to be Eric's own flesh and blood. He was desperate though, and he needed to get through to the stoic brunet that somehow managed to keep his emotions so tightly reigned in. He needed to make him understand and he knew the man must have a heart somewhere beneath that rigid exterior. Otherwise why would he be with Ronald?

"I do understand your feelings, Eric," sighed William, "but this is not a simple matter."

"Then make it simple," pleaded Eric. "Send me in tae deal wi' it, an' if I get killed it'll be mah own fault. Ya can at least give me tha' much, boss."

"I cannot allow you to go into Hell alone." Will frowned and he threaded his fingers together, propping his elbows on the desk. "The board would never agree to that and you know it."

"Than don't tell them." Eric held his gaze, willing him to get on his side. "At least 'till after I've gone. All I'm asking for is a chance, boss."

Will lowered his gaze, for once appearing indecisive. "You really aren't going to let this go, are you?"

Eric shook his head and he tamed his accent to make himself perfectly clear to the other man. "Not a chance, sir. Al's not just my work partner. He's my life partner too and I'm not giving him up...not even temporarily. A hundred years might not seem like a long time to the average reaper but for me, it's a lifetime. He's my soul mate."

Will met his gaze again and for a good long moment, they just had a staring contest. Eric buckled down and refused to look away, and to his surprise the supervisor finally caved and looked away.

"Take agent Sutcliff with you...and the Undertaker, should he be willing to assist. I can turn my back on this for a time, but I warn you this will result in disciplinary measures when the board learns you've violated protocol."

Eric relaxed and he shrugged. "Wouldn't be the first time, boss...not for me or for Grell. Thank you, Will."

William's mouth thinned with irritation. "You may thank me by returning alive and whole, Eric Slingby—preferably with your partner. Our division cannot afford to lose all of its best officers."

Eric's brows shot up and for the first time since Alan left with the demons, he managed one of his signature smirks that tended to cause both women and men to fan themselves. "Did you just call Grell Sutcliff one of your best officers, Will?"

"What of it?" William's tone was grudging and tight. "Sutcliff may be a bloody thorn in my side on most days, but I cannot argue against his results in the field. Why else would I be sending him with you?"

Knowing better than to tease William when he was in a mood like this, Eric counted his blessings and saluted him. "Thanks, boss. I'll go speak with Grell and the Undertaker now. We'll be out of here before anyone knows what happened."

"See to it that you are," agreed William. "I'm putting myself in a difficult position, you know. This could very well cause marks against me."

"They'd never fire you," Eric said with certainty. "You're the only one that knows how to keep this division running the way it does and they'd be hurting themselves by assigning anyone else to your job."

Will smirked subtly, accepting the compliment. "Indeed. Good luck to you, Officer Slingby."

Once Eric was gone, William sighed and rubbed his forehead. "At least he did not send Ronald to do his dirty work for him."

Slingby had figured out that Ronald was the one kink in his armor and whenever he wanted something that William was not prepared to grant him, he'd formed the habit of sending Ron to ask for him. William was no fool and he knew exactly what was going on whenever his lover came to him to beg a favor for his best friend. It didn't help that Eric Slingby also happened to be Ronald's biological father, regardless of how seldom either of them ever acted like father and son. Ronald couldn't say no to Eric and William couldn't always say no to Ronald. Between the Scotsman and Grell, William feared he might one day snap and simply quit his job.

There was a knock at his door and the supervisor looked up and stopped rubbing his forehead. "Enter."

Speak of the devil, Ronald Knox poked his blond/black head in and smiled at William. "Hiya boss. Feel like having a little company for lunch?"

Will glanced at his watch, vaguely surprised. It was nearly two pm. He'd completely forgotten to take a lunch break again. Ronald knew him too well, it seemed, because the young man stepped through the door with a deli bag in one hand. William's expression softened as his lover closed the door behind him and crossed the room, the smell of hot food wafting up from the bag he carried.

"However did you know, Ronald?"

Knox shrugged and he hopped onto Will's desk before setting the bag down in front of him. "I've gotten to know your routine, Will. I'm not gonna let you pass out on me again if I can help it."

William inwardly grimaced. He had indeed collapsed recently after neglecting to eat for nearly two days. His clothing was beginning to fit looser and he really needed to be more conscious of his body's needs. "Thank you," he said solemnly, and he opened the deli bag to procure the wrapped sandwich. It was a heated meatball sub with melted cheese and his stomach growled as he unwrapped it and pulled the napkins out of the bag.

"I hope that's okay," Ronald said as Will took his first bite. "I know y' don't usually like the messy stuff but they were all out of your usual. Oh, here...I brought you a drink from the machine, too." He reached into his blazer to remove a capped bottle of soda from an inner pocket. "Don't know how you can stand this diet stuff. Yuck."

"To each their own," said Will calmly after chewing and swallowing. He opened the bottle and he chased down the bite with a sip of the beverage. He studied Ronald as he took another bite, and he wondered if he should tell him what Eric planned to do. He was, after all, one of the few people Will trusted.

Ronald tilted his head slightly, his gaze curious on William. "Something on your mind, sexy?"

Will sighed. "If I tell you this, I need it to remain completely confidential. Do you understand, Ronald?"

Ron's brows went up. "You did something. Holy shit, what'd you do, boss?"

William smirked at the reaction. Yes indeed; Ronald had come to know him better than most, and just like before when he'd enabled Grell to break the Undertaker out of the facility to save him from a fate worse than death, Ronald seemed shocked that he would bend the rules. "I did nothing, and that is what could get me and others into trouble with the board."

"Okaaay..." Ronald scratched his head. "So what did you not do that could get you in trouble?"

"I chose not to inform my superiors that Slingby is going to go and challenge his partner's contract with that demon. I will of course inform them later that I discovered he went behind my back to do this, but by then he will have already entered Hell and it will be too late for us to stop him."

Ronald stiffened, eyes going wide behind the chunky black frames of his glasses. "Y-you sent my best mate t' Hell? All by himself?"

"He was determined, Ronald," explained William. "I made a difficult decision based on what I know of Officer Slingby and believe me when I say to you he would have eventually done this on his own, no matter what I said. My only other choice would have been to have him detained for his own good."

Ronald hopped off the desk and he began to pace; much like Slingby had done earlier. "I can't believe it! I would have gone with him if I'd known!"

"I would not have allowed it." William set aside his sandwich for the moment and he affixed Ronald with a stern stare. "It's bad enough that Eric is determined to take such a foolish and dangerous course. I did agree to let him take Sutcliff and the Undertaker with him, however. He will not be completely alone."

Ronald sighed. "Shit. You know they aren't going to just let him breeze in and leave with Alan, right? He'll be lucky if they don't tear him apart! He's...he's not just my friend, Will. He's my dad!"

"I know that," assured William calmly. "He is also one of the most bull-headed reapers I have ever worked with. Had I any other recourse at my disposal I would have used it, but the board would never allow me to send a team in and possibly start a war. Slingby will have to deal with the consequences of his own actions, no matter what comes of this. Styx willing, he'll make it out alive with his partner but if not..."

He trailed off upon noticing the color drain from Ronald's face. He hadn't meant to make such a point of how perilous this was going to be.

"What if they hold him and the others prisoner too," demanded Ronald. "Are we just gonna let them rot in Hell, sir?"

Will sighed. "If Eric does not return to us within a week, I shall escalate this matter and request intervention. One good agent is a bad enough loss, but the additional loss of two more might be enough to sway the board and allow me to take more direct action. Do you see, Ronald? They would never approve a forceful rescue of Humphries alone, but if his partner, Grell and a legendary icon are also taken prisoner, they may make an exception."

Ronald stopped pacing and he stared at him. "So you didn't just do this because you figured Eric would go whether you approved it or not. You purposely suggested he take Grell and Undertaker with him so you can finally act?"

William nodded. "It was the only way I could possibly act within the boundaries of protocol, Ronald."

Ron whistled softly and shook his head. "That's a big gamble, Will. There's no guarantee they'll get taken alive if they get overwhelmed."

"Agreed, but I am counting on the Undertaker's fame to have an influence in that. Even demon kind know of him, and I would hope they would not be eager to kill such an influential reaper. Taking him hostage to make demands of Dispatch would better suit their interests."

"But what would demons even want from Dispatch?" Ronald pointed out, "and even if they do what you hope, that doesn't mean they'll want to keep Grell or Eric alive!"

"Grell they would keep alive to force the Undertaker's cooperation," reasoned William. "Eric, on the other hand might not be of any value to them. That is his risk to take, however. As for what they might want of Dispatch, I imagine it would benefit them to have the treaty between our kind amended so that they no longer must respect Shinigami agents' claim on the mortal souls we reap. As you know we aren't allowed to interfere with demonic contracts and they are not permitted to interfere with our reaps. They could demand that agreement to be dissolved in exchange for the release of the Undertaker and the others. They aren't particularly imaginative creatures, Ronald."

"That's what worries me," muttered Ronald. "I don't want any of 'em taken prisoner and I sure don't want them to get killed. But maybe if Undertaker's with them it'll be okay. The old guy managed to take on me, Grell and that Phantomhive demon at once, after all."

William chose not to mention the obvious; that the three of them weren't just going to be facing a couple of reapers and a single demon. They were going into the demons' home realm, and they were going to be extremely outnumbered. Not even the Undertaker's prowess in battle would be enough against an entire legion of demons.

"Come here," ordered William. He scooted his chair back and beaconed to Ronald. The blond hesitated for a moment before obeying, and he sighed as he sat down in Will's lap and put his arms around his neck. Will cupped his chin to force him to meet his eyes. "If I could have convinced Slingby to let this go and give me time to find another option, I would have. You know as well as I though; once that man gets an idea in his head he does not let it go. If you'd have seen his eyes you no doubt would have arrived at the same conclusion as I did, Ronald. Just trust in Slingby's determination to be with his partner again, if nothing else. It may very well be the thing that saves his life in the end."

Ronald almost pouted. "Still wish you'd told me about this sooner."

William was unrepentant. "I would not risk you that way." He flushed uncomfortably when Ron's eyes met his with surprise. "Yes, I did just say that aloud. Close your mouth before you attract flies...love."

Ronald blinked and it was clear to Will that if the circumstances were different, he'd have hooted with elation. Though he was obviously terribly worried about his mentor and Eric, a little smile began to curve his lips. "Did...did you just use an endearment, Will? You?"

"You have a tendency to bring out the worst in me," answered William dryly, smirking at him. He sighed and he combed Ronald's bangs out of his eyes with his fingers. "I would tell you not to worry so, but I know that would be useless. Just know that I shall do whatever I can within protocol if our associates do not make it out of there on their own. You do believe me, don't you?"

Ronald bit his lip. After a moment's reflection, he nodded. "You're real smart, Will. You don't do things the way the rest of us do but you always seem t' have a card up your sleeve. I...I trust you to try for our friends, even if you've got an obscure way of doing it."

William relaxed, pleased that Ronald forgave him for his subtle manipulations and strategic methods. "I sometimes wish I could do things more openly. I admire your passion and utter lack of inhibitions, Ronald. I simply operate differently."

Ron managed another hint of a smile for him. "And it usually works out when you pull strings, boss. I admire how clever you are, finding all these loopholes and using 'em to your advantage. I just hope this doesn't go sour on us all. I don't know what I'd do without my 'big sis' or my best mate."

William finally allowed himself to feel a touch of regret and he drew Ronald close, cupping the back of his head to draw his lips to his own. Perhaps it was short-sighted of him to suggest Eric bring Grell along. If this did go badly, Ronald stood to lose two reapers that were dear to him. He knew, however, that Eric's chances were best with the Undertaker accompanying him and he also knew that Grell would never stay behind while his husband went into Hell. He kissed Ronald more deeply, deciding that intimacy was the best way to distract him from his worries. The younger reaper responded favorably as always, his fingers deftly loosening Will's tie as he took advantage of the sensual attention he was getting.

Will forgot all about his sandwich and he focused on pleasing Ronald, after that. He was very, very good at it, as well. By now he knew every inch of Ron's body...every freckle, every sensitive area. He quickly had the blond flushed with passion and moaning his name, lying on top of his desk. Ronald came the moment Will finally entered him and he sat up and embraced the brunet, begging him for more. William didn't even care when his lunch got knocked off the desk onto the floor, nor did he care about the slippery mess coating his abdomen from Ronald's climax. He kissed Ron deeply and he took his time, deciding not to get rough with him this time.

"I love you," moaned Ronald as William began to slowly thrust. His legs twined around Will's waist and he held him tightly, nibbling and kissing his shoulder.

As usual, William's ability to reciprocate such an endearment with words locked up on him...but he demonstrated his reciprocal feelings with his actions. He pulled back a bit and he locked gazed with Ronald as he made love to him, breath huffing with each delightful pump. He reached out to trace the younger man's blushing features with his fingertips and he felt him beginning to harden against his stomach again, slowly becoming erect as each push of Will's cock pleasured him. He couldn't say what was actually in his heart yet, but Ronald seemed to understand just by gazing into his eyes. Someday, perhaps. Knox certainly deserved to know that he felt the same.

Will lasted for some twenty minutes longer and he gave Ronald another orgasm, using both his hands and the thrusts of his cock to draw a yell of completion from him. He couldn't hold back any longer after that and he sped up his thrusts and groaned when it happened, hugging Ronald tight as he unloaded inside of him.

"W-Will," gasped Ronald, head falling back and eyes shut. He stroked the brunet's perspiration-dampened hair as he tensed and shuddered with release. "How the hell do ya do this to me all the time. Damn, that was good."

"Agreed," panted William. As soon as Ronald straightened his head, William bowed his own to rest his heated forehead against the blond's. "Am I forgiven, then?"

Ronald kissed him. "I wasn't angry with you to begin with. Just confused and a little...scared. I'm actually glad you told him to bring Grell and Undertaker with him. Those are the two best reapers to have at his back. Just wish the higher-ups would have let you do something before it came to this, is all." He kissed Will's jaw and throat, sighing softly against his skin. "Think they'll make it, Will?"

The supervisor hesitated. He rubbed his lover's back and he tried to think of a positive way to express his thoughts. "I believe that their chances are exceptionally better with the Undertaker accompanying them. You know how I respect him, though."

"Yeah, I know." Ronald pulled away to smile at him, though his lips trembled a bit. "If I didn't know any better I'd think you'd have gotten with that old mad coot, if I hadn't snatched you up first."

"Not at all," assured William. "He doesn't seem to share my respect, for one thing. For another, the Undertaker is more of a role model for me than a romantic interest. I very much doubt he could make me feel the way you do even if anything ever happened between us."

Ronald smiled in that endearing, unrestrained way of his. "That's the best thing I've heard all day, Will."

-To be continued