Weak shafts of sunlight barely penetrated the broken tiles of the factory roof. Dust motes, like tiny fairies, drifted languidly on the gentle morning air, trapped in their golden beams. And in the center of the room, the great machine groaned as if in pain; its gears jammed by the mangled young corpses of the dozen or so young children that had gotten caught between its teeth. The air smelled like iron, blood, and dust.
It was unusual these days for William to end up at a factory. The cinematic records of children were so short and unimportant. One could easily sweep a half dozen factories in a morning, collecting the souls of the small bodies who were often caught in the machines. Usually he would send Ronald or one of the other juniors out on a task like this, but he had chosen to take this on personally.
Very rarely did factory accidents involve multiple children… and this was only the second time in his career he had arrived on the scene of a mass death only to find it wiped clean of every soul. And Will was only a minute behind schedule.
A single minute.
No single demon operated this cleanly. There had to be more. And Will was not entirely convinced that the Phantomhive demon wasn't behind this.
Above his head, a tile slid. William looked up, his hand flying to the bottom handle of his scythe. His eyes scanned the roof, but he could hear nothing, see nothing… the sunlight reflected off his glasses, making it difficult to make out any movement.
He was perfectly still, but his pulse was racing. It had only been a week, but the memories of Lord Grey's ball were still fresh in his mind, and what had occurred in the darkness…
His jaw was sore.
William backed up a few steps, hoping to get out of the paths of sunlight and get a better glimpse of the factory's corners. He still couldn't see much, but he could hear footsteps on the roof.
Another tile went skidding; this time it shot off the side of the roof and William heard it shatter against the ground outside.
A few more steps back, and William found himself staring at a space of blue sky, a hole in the roof no larger than his own head. He adjusted his glasses using the tip of his shears and squinted, his rigid mouth set in a firm line.
A pair of white hands curled around the jagged edges of the hole, and a face pressed against the opening, a pert nose and a sharp red eye. A wide, grinning mouth.
William had never squeezed the handle of his scythe so quickly. The shears at the end of his scythe split their razor edges apart and reached out for the demon above his head. The demon laughed in his face, darting out of the way before the shears ever reached him. He moved faster than Michaelis.
This did not bode well.
A fraction of a second too late, Will heard hard soles hit the ground behind him. He spun around, raising his scythe, just as the demon brought a gleaming, bloody hatchet down.
The blade glanced off the metal pole, steel ringing against steel, and the edge slid down the length of the scythe, nearly taking off one of Will's fingers in the process. He managed to thrust his scythe forward, pushing the demon off its feet. It landed on its ass, laughing still, as it recuperated nearly immediately and was standing again faster than Will could register the movement.
"Who are you?" Will demanded, his glasses slipping down the bridge of his nose. He could feel a section of his hair breaking free from its pomaded prison and sliding down his forehead in the most annoying fashion.
The demon stood in front of him, humming, swinging the hatchet idly from its fingers.
"He wants to know our name!" the demon grinned. "Should we tell him?" the demon swung the hatchet around, gripping it in its hands, running a long, red tongue over the blade, collecting the blood that was there. "Names have power, reaper."
"I am well aware." Will's eyes narrowed dangerously, and he lifted his scythe in warning. "Yet I will have yours. Are you bound by a contract?"
"So, so! One question at a time!" the demon spun on expensive shoes, shiny red leather with a magnificent heel. Grell would have loved them. "A fair exchange, divine being! You may know our name if we may have the pleasure of yours."
"William." Will said through his teeth.
"Ah, ah, ah! Full name, now, no cheating!"
"William Spears." He snarled, hissing the final sibilant. It did not matter if this demon knew his full name, it was just something to take back to hell with them.
"Excellent!" the demon stopped, planting both feel on the floor. It stood rigid, its entire demeanor changed – any trace of facial expression switching off like a light. "My name is Heath Clifton." His voice was deeper, now, resonant. He could not take himself seriously for long. His lips broke out into a smile, far too self-satisfied. "Entirely at your service."
Heath? What a perfectly absurd name for a demon.
"Who granted you that name?" Will could not help but ask, wondering what possible soul in London possessed such bad taste.
"I imagine you would love it if I told. But games are fun, William, and mine is just beginning." Heath winked lasciviously at the reaper. "Besides, I am not one of your nice butlers. My vocation does not require any such amount of civility."
Now that he was standing still, Will was able to get a better look at him. As far as demons went, he was fairly nondescript. His hair was black, his eyes were red, his cheekbones could cut glass. Sometimes William wondered if demons ever had a blonde hair to split between them.
His thoughts were catching up to him. And now he was beginning to wonder, when did "we" become "I", and what had triggered the sudden change in personality?
This demon was concealing far more than simply his master's identity.
The faint chime of a clock could be heard in the distance. Heath looked up, squinting at the patch of sunlight above their heads. The sky was becoming overcast, and it was more than likely about to snow.
Goddamn English weather.
"I must depart," Heath said, and tilted his head back down towards William, grinning from ear to ear. "Never fear, you shall have the pleasure of my company again."
Will's lip curled disdainfully. He raised his death scythe again, jamming it manually in the demon's direction, but it went right through the creature's chest. Heath laughed, and the rest of him dissipated like smoke, curling lazily towards the hole in the roof.
Will straightened, tightening his jaw, he slid his glasses back up to their proper resting place.
"You seem tired, senior."
William swung his scythe around, instinctive at this point, a reaction to that particular voice. Sebastian stepped aside to avoid the blow and threw up his hand, the metal pole glancing off his wrist.
"Not at all." William said, his voice ice.
Sebastian smiled. "Then you must not have tried very hard to kill him."
Refusing to be nettled, William grabbed his spear with both of his hands. Running towards Sebastian, he buried his shears into the demon's shoulder, pinning him up against one of the factory's brick walls, knocking the breath from his lungs.
William gave Sebastian a long, steady look; twisting his scythe and grinding it deeper into the butler's shoulder. Sebastian did not flinch, but he was no longer smiling. His face was wiped clean of expression, save for the slightly downturned corners of his lips.
"I care not," William said quietly, "for the contract between you and your master any longer. I will kill you, demon."
Sebastian looked down at the scythe, as if just noticing his pierced shoulder. He looked back up at Will, an emotion never before expressed sliding behind his eyes. Exasperation, perhaps?
"William," Sebastian grasped the scythe's pole. "End this foolishness now, we both walk away unscathed men."
"I intend to end it." Will said through his teeth. "My next blow is for your heart." He ripped the scythe out of Sebastian's flesh and pulled it back. It descended once more, this time aiming for the demon's chest. But it never met its target. Sebastian caught the clippers in his gloved hands, twisting them and gaining enough leverage to push them away. They hit the wall behind him, and Will fell forward.
Sebastian grabbed Will by the throat, his red eyes gleaming.
"Is this some ill-conceived attempt at revenge?" the demon crooned, stroking Will's cheek softly with his free hand, as if he understood everything. "My treatment of you in Lord Grey's ballroom surely did not affect you so."
Will said nothing. He glared down his nose at the demon.
Sebastian frowned. If Will didn't know better, he might have said the demon was insulted.
"I can do so much worse." Sebastian said.
Oh spare him that the demon was sulking.
Sebastian trailed his free hand down William's chest, slipping his fingers through the loops in the reaper's waistband, dragging his hips forward. He tightened his hold on Will's throat as he unbuttoned the reaper's pants, one satin-gloved hand disappearing between his legs. The cool, soft material slipped over Will's cock as iron fingers closed around it.
The reaper jolted, trying and then failing to wield his scythe at such an awkward angle. Sebastian tilted his head forward, brushing his lips over William's, seizing his bottom lip in a kiss and biting down hard enough to draw a trickle of blood.
"You know," the demon whispered gently against his mouth. "I'm sure if I tried hard enough…" he stroked his hand and down Will's shaft. The reaper was already hardening, against his own desires. "I could make you cum."
He didn't wait for Will to react. He released his hold on the reaper unceremoniously, and Will pulled back. Sebastian stepped forward, the toe of his shoe coming down on top of Will's, and the reaper stumbled, falling to the ground.
Sebastian continued his path, one foot on Will's chest, he lifted himself up – for one moment putting an unbearable amount of pressure on the reaper's sternum. It did not last long enough to do much damage. Sebastian brought his other foot heavily down on Will's wrist. There was an audible crack, and the hand that held the scythe sprang open. Sebastian used the side of his foot to slide it away, just out of reach.
"If you cannot use it properly, you may as well not carry it at all." The demon smiled, and he lowered himself to the ground, his knees resting on either side of William's thighs.
"Do not," he said, his calm voice laced with dire warning, "force me to break the other wrist."
With great care, he grabbed hold of William's slacks, tugging them down the reaper's hips, dragging them all the way to his ankles. Will's naked ass rested against the cold factory floor, and his entire body tensed. He stared up at the roof, not even feeling the pain in his wrist… he just wondered why he let these things happen. How he could let these things happen.
Sebastian adjusted himself to rest between the reaper's legs, parting his thighs as wide as was possible. He placed his hands underneath Will's ass and lifted it into the air, fingers sliding in between the cheeks and spreading them wide apart. William's breath caught in his throat…
…And he felt the hot tip of the demon's cock prod his entrance.
"Stop!" the sound ripped from William's throat. He had never spoken so forcefully in his life. It still came out cold and clipped, like a command. Surprisingly, Sebastian paused.
"Is something wrong?" the demon asked, as if the situation at present could possibly be considered anything other than rape.
"Not…" Will clenched his good fist. "Not … dry." He ground his teeth, forcing out the final word as if it galled him. "Please."
"Oh, of course." Sebastian slid his hands away, and touched his lapel contritely. "How inconsiderate of me." He forced his fingers down William's throat, as far back as he could, where the thicker saliva was. Will gagged but thankfully, the sensation did not last very long. Sebastian withdrew his hands, stroking Will's entrance with the newfound wetness.
"It still will not be very pleasant," Sebastian said, almost daring to be apologetic. "But I am, as you can see, inadequately prepared for this occasion." He parted Will's cheeks again, and the tip of his cock made entry.
Will nearly bit his tongue in half holding back a scream. He sucked in a deep breath through his nose, but no other sound came out. Never, never in all of his career as a shinigami…
Sebastian slid deeper, every inch completely agonizing. Will's face was turning red, it wasn't until Sebastian had worked himself all the way in, entirely up to the base, that Will even opened his mouth, letting out a pained gush of air.
He panted, his chest rising and falling rapidly. Sebastian grabbed hold of his hips, pinning them to the ground, he used the leverage to slide in and out of William, angling his cock so that every inch was felt. He started slow, but quickly picked up the pace. Will felt like he was being split open. The last time he felt this degraded, he had ended up with weights in his pockets, drowning in the Thames.
The demon had the gall to meet his eyes as his thrusts became deeper, harder.
"Don't," Will's voice could not even be heard.
With a final thrust, Sebastian filled William's ass with his cum, sliding his cock out faster than was comfortable, some of the cum spilling out and splashing onto the factory floor.
Sebastian's brow furrowed.
"How untidy," he said. "I apologize."
"Leave," Will said, getting his voice back. "Leave."
Sebastian stood, brushing the dust away from his knees until his black slacks were impeccable again.
The demon smiled down at him, a coy expression, and walked away, stepping on the reaper's already injured hand on his way out.
William lay on his back, staring at the roof still. The cold winter air brushed over his exposed and – recently violated – body.
He knew he was probably bleeding.
He also knew he had to force himself to stand up.
His scythe wasn't far. He needed to retrieve it, pull up his pants, and get back to work. He should find someone to set his wrist, also. He would be damned if it kept him from doing his job.
And he had to file the paperwork for another dozen devoured souls he had failed to reap. As well as report the presence of a new demon to the higher ups.
Things were refusing to go his way, but there was always work to bury himself in.
Through the various holes in the roof tiles, fat snowflakes began to spin lazily towards the ground. From the corner of his eye, he noticed them.
Taking a deep breath, William forced himself to sit up, dragging his useless, broken wrist to his side painfully.
Tears were not yet falling, though he could feel them burning the back of his eyes, already blurring his poor vision. He wondered when, if ever, they would come.