HEYOO!

YES, I'm posting Black Butler fanfiction! This is a first for me, oh boy :P

I've just kinda had this idea bouncing around in my head, figured hey, why not. I could use a distraction right now.

(Also this may be the first and last Black Butler piece I write because Old timey writing is hard and I'm a wimp XD)

And I'm sorry if they seem OOC :P Grell is my spirit animal, but writing him sick was one helluva challenge :P and Sebastian is so damn hard to write. UNNGH. EMOTE, SEB. SRSLY!

xD

I own nothing. if I did, there would be GrellxSebby more. or GrellxUndertaker. or Grellxanyone xD

The moon hung high in the sky, its pale glow illuminating the traveler walking- or more appropriately dragging himself- down the snowy path. The stars twinkled like diamonds, woven through the blues and grays of the night like a rich tapestry. The traveler gave the night sky no thought. He could only focus on one thing. One thing, and one thing only was all his feverish mind allowed itself to focus on to continue to force his aching limbs forward.

His destination: The Mansion of the Earl Phantomhive.

And the Butler that would be there, Sebastian Michaelis.

Chapped lips pulled into a smile at the thought. Yes, his Bassy. Or Sebas-chan depending on the day. He would be there. Happy to see him, no. But there…. When was he not there, tending to the needs of his young master?

The traveler's resolve slowly began to falter. Long, flowing locks hung limply and lifelessly from his head, dull and almost faded in color and sheen. Even with his spectacles perched on his nose, the traveler found his vision blurring, only cleared away by blinking his emerald eyes several times. Every step he took felt as though it drained life force more and more. He was so close. He knew by the landmarks he passed, albeit covered in snow, he was almost there. So close!

Whether it was the delirium from the fever or his failing vision, the traveler did not know. But when next he looked up, he knew he had made it. "Phantomhive… M-Manor…" his voice rasped, almost not making it past his pointed teeth.

All at once, his world spun around him. He tried to steady himself by taking a few cautionary steps back, but was overcome by the intense vertigo that spun his world and put him on his back, falling backwards in the cold snow. As his world continued to whirl, tired green eyes stared up at the stars. "They… really are… beautiful…" he breathlessly mused, "They'd look lovely in red."

Candles lit the study of the Earl Phantomhive. Even late in the night, the Young Master had work to be done. A quiet knock came at the door to the study. "Yes, yes, come in," Ciel rubbed his uncovered eye with one hand.

The door opened with a quiet click, and a slender figure approximately six feet and an inch tall slinked into the room. "Sebastian," Ciel returned to his papers, glancing over the paperwork before him. "What is it? I'm very busy right now."

"Forgive me, my Lord." The man replied with a small bow, his voice smooth as silk. "But when I went to lock the doors for the night, I noticed we appear to have a visitor of questionable intent and motive."

"'A visitor of questionable intent and motive?'" Ciel looked up from his paperwork, "It's nearly ten-thirty. Who would be visiting at this time of night?"

"See for yourself, My Lord." Sebastian replied, drawing back the curtain.

Ciel searched the white yard. After a moment or two, his eye found whom his Butler was referring to. "The Reaper Grell Sutcliff." Ciel frowned, "What is that miserable cur doing here at this time of night? Passed out in the courtyard, at that."

"This I don't know, My Lord." Sebastian replied, letting the curtain fall. "That is why I've informed you of his arrival.

Ciel glanced down at his paperwork and sighed. Business would have to wait. "Well, we may as well see what he's come for." He grumbled softly.

The boy and his Butler walked silently down the hallways and staircases until they were at the front door. Sebastian struck a match to light a lantern, then swished it out once the lamp was properly lit. He opened the door for his Young Master, following him out to the front staircase, shutting the door behind them, and leading him to where the Red Reaper lay in the snow, muttering incoherent nonsense. Ciel stood over him, staring down at Grell with contempt. "Well?" he spoke, "I demand to know why you're here, Sutcliff."

The Reaper murmured more, his unfocused eyes searching. "H-had to… H-had to see… B-Bassy…"his voice was a choke. "N-not much time…"

"'Not much time?'" Ciel questioned, "What the devil are you going on about now?"

After a long moment of feeble attempts at coherent speech from the Reaper, his chapped lips pulled into a smile. "Sebas-chan…." His voice was soft, "S-so glad…. Y-You're here…"

Immediately, Sebastian's Demon instinct could tell there was something wrong. He bent down to one knee in the snow to inspect the Reaper more closely. The Reaper's usually pale skin was as white as the snow he laid in. His entire appearance, usually brightly colored and full of life, looked sullen and dull in appearance. Very slowly, as if it took everything in him to accomplish, the Reaper's slender hand found Sebastian's more masculine one. Before the Butler could properly react, Grell's weakly trembling hand brought it to his clammy forehead. "N-Not much… Time… Sebas-chan…"

Even through his white gloves, Sebastian felt a feverish warmth radiating from the Reaper's forehead. "What is it, Sebastian?" Ciel demanded.

Even when Grell's hand fell back to where it was, exhausted from the effort it expended, Sebastian did not remove his hand. "It would seem as though our Reaper here has quite the fever." Sebastian reported, "It would appear to have made him delirious."

Ciel thought for a moment. True, Grell was a terrible Reaper. But he was also the Reaper that was willing to act as an ally, or be used as in in to the main Soul Library when the information proved pertinent. Ciel sighed again, pinching the fold of skin between his eyebrows in annoyance. "Very well," he groaned, "Put him up in one of the guest bedrooms. We can't have him lying in the snow."

Sebastian's head turned to face Ciel in a barely there groan of exasperation. "Are you quite sure, My Lord?" he asked, almost a grimace in his face, "Surely he has outlived his usefulness."

Grell's heart sank listening to their words. But he supposed he could understand. Why keep someone around if they were no longer useful? "Perhaps, Ciel replied, "But perhaps not. And either way, it is really quite tasteless to have an ill man sprawled about in your courtyard." Ciel looked down at the sickly Reaper with contempt in his face. "Sebastian, you are to prepare the guest bedroom and return Grell back to health.

Sebastian sighed. "As you wish, My Lord." He stood, leaving with the boy to return to the house.

Grell watched them leave, his voice becoming a whimper, "W-wait," he whimpered quietly, "D-don't… L-leave me…! P-Please…!"

He was beyond frightened. He didn't want to be alone. Not like this. But just as quickly as he'd left, Sebastian returned, kneeling over Grell with that sickly sweet false smile over his features. "Cease your simpering, Reaper." The Butler chided with that smug grin. "I was only preparing your room. There's no need for hysterics."

Somewhere in his chest, Grell felt a butterfly flutter. It took him several moments to realize it was his heart, and not an insect trapped in his visceral cavity. "Can you walk?" Sebastian asked, his voice smooth as silk.

Grell fought with every uncooperative limb of his body, trying to force himself to his feet. After a moment, his head rested back in the snow with a loud crunch. If nothing else, the cold was soothing on his forehead. "N-no… S-sorry…" he finally managed.

"Very well then." With little effort, The Butler hoisted the long-haired man up into his arms, the way a newlywed might carry his wife. "I've run a lukewarm bath in the guest bathroom." He spoke, carrying Grell through the snow and to the house, nudging open the door with his foot, then closing it the same way. "The Master has ordered me to make you well again, so what kind of a butler would I be if I couldn't deliver?

Grell laughed, a terrible, almost choked sounding sound, and shut his green eyes. "Even… Even you can't save me now… S-Sebastian…"

Sebastian ignored Grell's words, and the unsettling realization Grell had addressed him by his given name, and not something groan-worthy. It was not more than a few minutes before they reached the bathroom. Sebastian gently placed the man down on the porcelain toilet, where the Reaper then proceeded to fumble with the buttons of his vest, clumsy fingers barely functioning.

Sebastian sighed internally and pushed aside Grell's hands. Wordlessly, he deftly unbuttoned the shirt and vest, untying the red and white striped bow tie and putting them aside to be washed and dried later. Had fever not tinted his cheeks already, a blush would've spread over the Reaper's face. His lips crept into an attempt at a coy smile. "And here…. I've always pictured you undressing me… in… in another situation… " he had to catch his breath as he spoke.

Sebastian almost sighed out loud, and slid his ruby eyes shut to contain his irritation as he begrudgingly unbuttoned the buttons of his trousers. "Don't press your luck, Reaper." He warned, "The only reason you're inside being undressed by me and not outside in the cold is because The Master gave me an order to nurse you back to health. Remember that, Reaper Sutcliff."

"Of course, Sebastian," Grell's voice was uncharacteristically soft, and almost melancholy, his eyes hidden by waterfalls of red bangs. "How could I forget?"

Sebastian didn't, couldn't, provide a reply as his arms snaked around Grell's legs and behind his back and with little effort, lifted the Reaper from his seat and lowered him slowly into the bath. Grell gave a quiet sigh as he removed his red-framed spectacles and carefully placed them down on a soap dish next to the large bath tub. His hair spread through the water like blood from an open wound, almost long and thick enough it would've covered his body had it not been swept aside by a gloved hand. "A lukewarm bath should help quell the fever," Sebastian spoke softly. "Have you eaten?"

Grell shook his head, regretting it immediately and putting his head in his hands to try and alleviate the throbbing headache that kept the Reaper's brain in a stew. "Nothing will stay down," he murmured, "Nothing solid at least."

"I'll prepare a broth, then." Sebastian replied, dipping a washcloth in the water and running it in circles over the Reaper's tensed back.

"Don't trouble yourself." Grell susurrated, letting his head rest against the cool porcelain of the bath. "Plain water is more than suitable."

"Very well," Sebastian replied smoothly, still washing Grell's back and silently noting the dark patches of skin and healed scars that speckled and crisscrossed the area. "Once you are comfortable, I'll fetch you water."

Grell made a quiet noise of acknowledgement. Then after a moment or two of silence, coughing overtook the Reaper, leaving the man gasping for breath desperately. After the fit had passed, he wrapped his arms around his knees and rested his head back on the side of the tub, feeling Sebastian's cold eyes silently examining him and scrutinizing his pale, scrawny form. The Butler's eyes were silently drawn to the many discolored patches of skin that dotted his arms and legs, and even hid around his sides and chest, ugly splotches of purples and yellows against porcelain pale skin. "You hide many bruises under your red attire, Reaper." Sebastian noted, "I did not realize the souls you reap fought back with such vigor."

Grell cringed visibly at Sebastian's words. "I'm just… Not very good at my job… I suppose…" his voice was unusually low and withdrawn.

Sebastian noted the hesitation in the other's voice, but continued his task without another word. Once he was finished, Sebastian stood. "I shall fetch a clean towel and sleep clothes. In the meantime, please do try not to drown."

Grell watched him with emerald irises as he left. He sunk himself in the water, until he was up to his nose. His eyes closed, but he willed them open. Otherwise, he really would've fallen asleep and drowned. Although at this point, death was welcome to the Reaper. His head pounded mercilessly, ringing loudly in his ears. Grell had to make a conscious effort to inhale and exhale, as it was painful even to breathe. The Reaper barely registered Sebastian reentering the room, carrying a towel and bed clothes. He felt as though his legs would fail him as Sebastian helped him stand and exit the bath, and dry him. He had to retake his seat on the toilet seat in order to keep from collapsing when Sebastian dressed him in the white bedclothes. He felt himself drifting away as Sebastian lifted him back into the same newlywed-bridal-carry and brought him into the conjoined bedroom, where the blankets had already been turned down in preparation. Grell wheezed a breath as he was placed on the bed and the blankets were brought to his chin. "Are the accommodations to your satisfaction, Reaper Sutcliff?" Sebastian asked, lighting a lamp.

"Red covers…" he murmured, only half coherent. "Feels like… Home, almost…"

Sebastian smirked in something resembling amusement. Grell was always so easy to please. "Allow me to fetch water, now that you're comfortable."

Grell watched lazily as the black tails of his jacket disappeared the room, then allowed his eyes to drift lazily up to the canopy that hung above the bed. The room still spun all around him, even when he closed his eyes he felt as though he was spinning. And the chill… he knew he was hot from the fever, but even still he felt so chilled to the bone he couldn't move, save for the shivers that racked his thin frame. His thin lips were chapped and cracked, so desperate for nourishment. And the nightshirt felt entirely too constricted on his too-hot-too-cold-can't-decide-maybe-both frame. He felt as though he would suffocate. The Reaper clawed desperately at the buttons of the shirt, opening the first two buttons with an incredible amount of struggle.

Sebastian reentered the room with a pitcher of water and a cup, along with a small bowl and a washcloth slung over his arm. "The sleepwear is not to your liking?" Sebastian asked, placing the items on the bedside table. "I could see to another, if you'd prefer?"

Grell ceased his fumbling with the buttons and shook his head. "N-no, no, it's fine…" he breathed, offering an apologetic smile. "I just… for some reason, I felt as though I… I couldn't breathe."

"You're a Reaper, are you not?" Sebastian asked smoothly, placing a chair beside the bed. "I've heard it said a Reaper can stop breathing, or even go so far as to stop his own heart if his work deems it necessary."

"It's true." Grell turned to face Sebastian. "But let me tell you, Bassy…" his face was beyond serious. "There's a distinct difference in choosing not to breathe, or forgetting to breathe, and… and not able to breathe."

Sebastian said no more as he returned to the pitcher, pouring the cup full. Grell closed his eyes, snuggling down in the bed. Gentle scents caressed his nose… particularly that of firewood and lavender, with a hint of laundry soap. So familiar, and yet, his fever-addled mind couldn't place the scent. Grell sighed softly. "Smells so lovely, this shirt…" Grell murmured, mostly to himself.

"Thank you," Sebastian replied, that sweet grin over his face. "I take pride in the quality of my laundrywork."

"This is yours, then?"Grell had wondered why the bedclothes were so large on him, and why the scent was so familiar. "I'll… be sure to… to treasure my time in it, then."Grell's breath came out as a pained wheeze. "However short it may be."

Sebastian held back an eyeroll at Grell's melodramatics. True, while whatever bout of illness that had fallen The Reaper wasn't pleasant, but it certainly didn't warrant such theatrical display. But, The Butler simply dismissed it as Grell's usual pining for attention and paid no second heed to it. "Reaper Sutcliff, a question if I may?"

Grell's lips drew into a small, toothy smile. "Anything for you, Sebas-chan."his voice was weak as his hands eagerly accepted the water.

Sebastian waited until Grell brought the water to his lips. "Why come to the Phantomhive manor in your current condition?" he asked, "Why come here, when you could get all the attention you need and desire from William and the Reaper Dispatch Service?"

"I… Desire…?"Grell's voice almost sounded hurt, but he shook it off. "Like I said before… I don't do very well at my job… I would not be welcome there in my… condition… Not even by Will…" his voice fell lower, more despondent. "I suppose, maybe… maybe I just wanted-!" Grell cut himself off from a terrible shift in his insides, jolting him upright and flying from the bed, making a mad dash for the guest bathroom.

Sebastian watched with pity in his face as the Reaper's legs failed him again in the last few feet of the bathroom then clawed and crawled on the ground desperately for the toilet and emptying what little contents his stomach held. Silently, Sebastian joined Grell, holding back his long red hair and rubbing his back in a soothing motion. When it appeared as though Grell's stomach had finished rejecting itself like a bad organ transplant, The Reaper simply laid back against Sebastian, still shivering. "Red is such a beautiful color," he murmured sadly, "Not like this… not like now…"

Sebastian glanced down at The Reaper. When he saw the red dripping from the corners of his mouth, he understood. He only leaned over to flush the contents away, then returned his attention to Grell, stroking the ill Reaper's back gently and using a white handkerchief to wipe the blood from his mouth. After a moment or two of sitting, Sebastian gathered The Reaper in his arms and returned him to his bed. "S-sorry… S-Sebastian…"

"And again with 'Sebastian'." The Butler shook his head, his voice quiet, "Why do you speak to me as though you speak on your death bed?"

Grell smirked, almost amused. "I… I don't know," he replied, closing his eyes and resting his head against Sebastian's chest. "I… I suppose I simply… Enjoy my… melodramatics…"

Sebastian returned the blankets to their former place pulled to the Reaper's chin, then wrung cool water from the washcloth and placed it on his forehead. "Well, melodrama or no, I've been ordered to make you well again and make you well I shall." He stated firmly. "After all, what kind of a butler would I be if I could not cure a simple bout of illness?"

Grell smirked again, almost a bitter sight. But it quickly faded as his eyes drifted shut. "Try and rest," Sebastian told The Reaper. "I must tend to the needs of my Master, but I will return shortly."

Grell barely uttered a reply before he was drifting away to sleep Sebastian extinguished one of the candles, bringing the other with him for light, and closed the door. The Butler continued down the hall until he reached the Study. His fingers briskly rapped the door twice. "Come in," The young Master replied, confirming Sebastian's suspicions he had not yet retired for the evening.

Sebastian opened the door, giving a bow before entering. "Forgive me for intruding, My Lord, but it's nearly midnight." He said, gesturing to the grandfather clock standing proud and tall in the corner. "Surely, you are ready to retire for the night?"

Ciel glanced up at the clock, a bored expression over his features. "Perhaps," he murmured, "Elizabeth DID insist on going to the park together tomorrow… I'll need all the energy I can muster for an all day event with her."

"Splendid, My Lord." Sebastian smiled, if not a little smug in his victory. "Shall I prepare a lunch then?"

"That won't be necessary." Ciel waved him off, fiddling with the ring on his finger as he walked out the door. "I'm told Paula has that taken care of. Besides, won't you have a certain Reaper to tend to tomorrow?"

Sebastian sighed and pinched the skin between his eyebrows. "I'm certain it's nothing a night of rest and a substantial breakfast cannot fix." The Butler replied smoothly, "You know his proneness to theatrical displays."

"Indeed I do," Ciel groaned, "I'm not sure anyone who knows him doesn't know of his proneness to theatrical displays."

They entered Ciel's bedroom without a word. Ciel allowed Sebastian to undress and redress him in night clothes without so much as a blink. He untied his eye patch, leaving it on the dresser, then climbed into his king-sized bed. Sebastian had just blown out the candle and bid his goodnights to his master when he was stopped at the door. "Sebastian?"

Sebastian paused. "Yes, My Lord?"

"If for some reason Grell's illness is more than mere… Theatrics and melodrama." Ciel's voice was even and monotonous. "Disregard my order."

"Master?" Sebastian raised an eyebrow in confusion.

"You heard me." Ciel replied, his eyes closed, "The Reaper's bed is made of pity. In all honesty, he serves me no real purpose anymore. But it would've been unsavory to leave someone in the snow and cold."

Sebastian smirked slightly. Had Bard, or Finny, or Mey-Rin found Grell first they would've begged the two into the situation anyways. "Even still, if he is beyond saving, don't waste the effort." Ciel gave an order. "Simply see to it he is comfortable. If he isn't, heaven knows he will make quite the racket."

"Yes, My Lord." Sebastian gave a slight bow.

Ciel rolled over so his back faced the door. "Enough talk. I'm going to sleep now."

Sebastian gave a smile. "Goodnight, My Lord."

Once the door was closed, Sebastian allowed his smile to fall. The Reaper's bed is made of Pity….I would not be welcome there in my current condition… even by Will… Sebastian dismissed the very thought. This was simple melodramatics, and shame on his young Master to think so lowly of his abilities! At least, the Butler told himself that. But somewhere in the back of his mind, The Demon felt… Worry. Worry, accompanied by something pride and pity had shaped into sympathy.

The rational part of Sebastian's brain, the prideful part, wept those thoughts under a rug of reason. Were he so worse for wear, there was no way he would've brought himself as far as he did. Sebastian stopped himself as he passed by the guest bedroom that served as the temporary infirmary for The Reaper. He opened the door without a knock as more whimpers hit his ears. What he saw brought pity to his expression. The Reaper tossed and turned in the bed, trapped in the midst of what appeared to be a nightmare brought on by the fever. "A Grim Reaper with a nightmare," The Buter mused, "How ironic."

After several moments, Sebastian begun to leave the room again to tend to his neglected night time chores. Grell's whimpers became coherent words, and Sebastian wasn't sure if it was intentional or not. "S-stay," The Reaper's feverish sleep mutters begged, "P-Please… L-Love me… Hate me… I don't care anymore… P-Please, just stay… I don't… want to be alone… anymore…"

Pity, mixed with an emotion Sebastian couldn't identify right away crept across Sebastian's stony heart. For one reason or another, The Demon found his heart caring for the Reaper writhing in pain and tangled in the covers of the guest bed. "I'll stay," he murmured, putting a hand to The Reaper's overheated cheek. "I'll stay."

The reaper seemed to sigh in relief at the physical contact, his face relaxing contentedly. Sebastian didn't stifle a sigh.

So The Reaper may have come all this way solely for attention from him.

So what?

The Butler was ordered to restore him to health, and that was what he would do.

However he was also ordered to make sure their ill guest was comfortable…

And since physical contact seemed to be the only way Grell's nightmares were quelled, Sebastian would have to stay.

Sebastian sighed. The things he did to please his Master…

Hesitantly and slow at first, trying not to rouse the sleeping Reaper, Sebastian climbed next to him on the large bed. Not two seconds passed before the Red Reaper tossed in his direction, clinging tightly to The Butler and snuggling up to his chest. His trembling ceased almost instantaneously, and his frightened, feverish face softened and gave a quiet sigh of contentment. Sebastian sighed as well, but more in exasperation than contentment. The Reaper never ceased to amaze and confound him. So content to simply be NEAR Sebastian, so simple to please.

Through the rest of the night, Grell slept soundly- or as soundly as fever and delirium would allow him to- still curled up in The Butler's surprisingly warm embrace and watchful eyes. The Butler left only once, early in the morning to prepare his Master for the day and see him off. After that, he returned to Grell's bedside.

Several hours after Sebastian had gone and returned, Grell's emerald eyes began to flutter. When they were fully open, he was sure he was still dreaming. Here his Sebas-chan was, in bed, with him. HOLDING him, even! "Ah, so the Reaper finally awakens," Sebastian observed, his trademark grin over his features, "Your rest was satisfactory?"

Physically, no. In fact, Grell was positive he had not improved in the least. But he hadn't the heart to tell Sebastian that. "The way I woke up… was… was the best part." Grell managed a coquettish smirk.

"The nightmares brought on by the fever." Sebastian explained, clearing his throat, "It seemed as though they were only soothed when I touched you."

"Aww," Grell cooed softly, his smitten smile still weakly spread over his face, "And… here I thought you didn't… didn't like me…"

Sebastian rolled his eyes slightly, and started to leave the bed, much to Grell's disappointment. "I'm off to start supper, and do the chores I've neglected. Do you think your stomach could handle breakfast?"

"N-no," Grell's stomach lurched and gurgled at the same time. "Th-thank you, though."

The Reaper's head felt as though it would explode. Every part of his body hurt. He wanted to beg Sebastian to come back, to hold him again, to talk to him, to just be with him. But he knew The Butler was busy. Busy, and wouldn't be burdened by one such as Grell.

The Reaper tried to sleep, but was far too restless. He was in pain. Every bone in his body was stiff and creaked with every move. His muscles screamed in complaint at any attempt whatsoever at movement. Even his ribcage screamed and creaked in complaint with every breath he dared to take.

It was nearly time. The Reaper could FEEL it.

At that moment, Sebastian reentered the room. "Very sorry to intrude." He apologized, out of well-trained habit, "Lunch is ready, and I wanted to check on you and see if your stomach was up to the challenge."

Grell was starving. In the last week everything he ate or drank was immediately rejected. He was so hungry… But even still, he shook his head. "N-no…" He wheezed, then broke into a coughing fit.

When he pulled his hand away and saw pools of blood in his cupped hand, The Reaper knew he didn't have much time.

Sebastian was immediately in action, placing a handkerchief in The Reaper's bloody hand and using a second one to daub at his mouth. "H-Hurts, Sebas-chan…" Grell found the voice to whimper. "E-everything h-hurts."

"I know… I know…" Sebastian's voice was low and soothing as he cleaned the blood from his hand and mouth. "It's almost over… You'll be well soon."

Grell wanted to tell him. He wanted to tell him he was half right. It would be over soon. He wanted to beg Sebastian to stay. But his weak body wouldn't allow the energy to do so. "Are you certain you couldn't handle soup, or a slice of bread perhaps?" Sebastian's voice was still silky smooth and soothing. "You look as if you haven't eaten in days."

Grell shook his head, despite the overwhelming vertigo that overwhelmed his senses. "N-no thank you…" he murmured, "B-but can I ask something of you… Sebastian?"

Sebastian was unsettled by the amount of seriousness in The Reaper's voice. "Of course."

Grell looked up at him with dull emerald eyes. "W-would you… Get me a pen and paper… P-please?"

Sebastian gave him a brisk nod as he left the Red Reaper's bedside. "Of course."

It was no more than a moment before The Butler retuned, a fountain pen in one hand and sheets of paper in the other. He placed them at the small writing desk that occupied the corner of the room by the window, and returned to Grell's bedside. The Reaper had removed the covers and put both feet on the ground, and was attempting to stand. As he stood, keeping one hand on the nightstand for support, the room continued to swim around him. He barely took two steps before he felt his balance beginning to fail him. Before he could fall, however, two strong arms caught him and steadied him. "Easy does it," Sebastian half-whispered, "Carefully now… I've got you."

With The Butler's assistance, Grell walked the remaining few steps. He lowered himself into the chair, taking the pen in his left hand. As he shakily begun to right, a small smile crossed his features. "Red ink," his voice was weak, "Why… You do care, Bassy!"

Sebastian chuckled quietly, changing the pillowcases as Grell wrote. Let him believe whatever eased his illness, The Butler supposed. He busied himself about the room, waiting for Grell's task- whatever it was- to be finished so he could help him return to bed- scratch that, return to another lukewarm bath, Sebastian decided, as he was looking peaked- and be on with the rest of the day's chores. He had just begun to run the bath when he heard Grell call from the other room. "S-Sebastian," his voice was barely a croak. "C-can you help me?"

The Butler left the water to run, and was at the side of the Reaper. "Yes?"

Grell's eyes went to his red coat, purloined from his previous master. "M-my coat," he rasped, "It has my Death Scythe… I need it."

Sebastian did as the Reaper asked and brought the coat. "Th-thank you, Sebastian."

With some struggle, he dragged a small chainsaw a little longer than his arm from the lining of the coat, then placed it down on the table. His slender fingers traced around a small circle at the rear of the machine, pressing the middle of it. The circle gave a quiet hiss and detached, sliding out like a drawer. The Reaper's trembling fingers dug through the small capsule, removing a small stick of red wax and a copper stamp. Grell pulled a small candle that was lit to brighten the corner, then used the orange flame to melt the wax stick, then drip it onto the folded paper. He quickly pressed the stamp into the wax to seal it. "Th-there," his voice was almost a gasp. "Th-that'll do it, then.

He put the wax and seal back into the capsule as Sebastian approached the desk. "I've prepared a lukewarm bath," he stated, "It should help ease the pain."

"Th-thank you," Grell coughed in between words. "May I ask something else of you?"

"Of course."

Grell forced his hands to be steady as he lifted the letter to The Butler. "Would you… h-hold onto this for s-safekeeping?" He almost gasped for breath in between words. "A-and give it to Undertaker when the time is right?"

Sebastian looked down at the letter, then back at The Reaper. "I can do that." He said softly. "Might I ask what warrants a message to The Undertaker?"

Grell offered a sad smile. "N-nothing, I guess." He mused, "I suppose I'm simply one hell of a melodramatic."

He started to stand, aided by the edge of the desk and Sebastian, but quickly felt his meagre frame fail him. Sebastian caught him before he could fall, hoisting him back up into his arms and carrying him into the bathroom. "S-sorry." Grell murmured softly.

"Apologize not for things you can't control." Sebastian chided, deft fingers unbuttoning the night shirt and pulling it up and over his head.

Without another word from either Demon or Reaper, Sebastian's arms wrapped around Grell's malnourished frame and lifted him off the seat without hardly batting an eye. He slowly lowered him into the bathtub, Grell heaving a quiet sigh as though he had been holding his breath. Sebastian gave an apologetic bow. "My apologies, Reaper Sutcliff. I'm afraid I must excuse myself briefly to check the progress of supper." He spoke, "Will you be alright on your own for a few minutes?"

Grell smiled his trademark smile, dull eyes sliding closed. "I-I'll be fine, Sebastian." He managed, "Go attend to your duties."

As The Butler left, Grell slumped back against the bathtub, the cold porcelain almost a shock to his feverish skin. He could feel his body failing him now. He felt his stomach eating away at itself, so desperate for the nourishment it would immediately reject. He could physically feel his lungs inflate less and less with every labored breath, paining his ribs with every inhale. He could physically feel his heart fighting to stay beating, steadily losing the will to continue…

No.

Not like this…

Please, not like this…

I don't want to be alone anymore…

Grell wasn't sure when he nodded off. Or if he had really nodded off. But the hand shaking his shoulder brought him back to Earth. "…er, Reaper Grell! Reaper Sutcliff!" Sebastian's voice pierced the fog of his mind, sounding commanding but at the same time, almost desperate.

"S-sorry, S-Sebastian." Grell replied, nearly out of breath. "M-must've… D-dozed off…"

"That's alright." Sebastian reached over to drain the water. "Although, I do think dozing is best done in bed, not in bath."

Grell hung limply in Sebastian's arms as he was dried off and placed on the toilet seat to be redressed. The Reaper did not have the strength to sit, even. Or even keep his head up. Sebastian clothed him in a clean night shirt, careful to ignore the fact The Reaper's skin had grown paler- were that even possible- and his bright red hair had lost its silky sheen, looking almost like dead straw as opposed to the long, flowing locks Grell had once loved. The Butler carried him back to bed, careful as though he would break. "Can I fetch anything for you?" Sebastian asked, bringing the blankets so they covered The Reaper. "Water, supper, another blanket perhaps?"

"N-no, thank you…" Grell croaked, "But… c-can I ask one thing more of you?"

"Of course."

Grell whimpered and gazed upon him with clouded emerald eyes. "H-hold me." He almost begged. "L-like you did… last night… A-at least until it happens…"

Sebastian noticed his words held fear, and were laced with desperation. "I'm… I'm already going to die a virgin." He murmured, his clouded eyes becoming unfocused, "B-but I could take solace in… in dying in the arms of… of someone I love."

The pitiful tone in his voice… How could he refuse? "Alright." Sebastian sat down on the bed, allowing Grell to lay against his chest.

Grell wanted to pour out all of his emotions in front of The Butler. His regret for Madame Red. His pain in his time as a Reaper in the Dispatch Service. His happiness for knowing Sebastian. His gratefulness to The Butler. His feelings of love for The Butler, deeper past the double entendres and flirtatious interactions.

But he didn't. Or, couldn't.

After all his thinking and attempts at words, Grell managed to voice one thought, at least. "Thank… You… S-Sebastian…" The Reaper's voice was so low, even Sebastian strained to hear it. "Even if you… you were… under orders…" Grell inhaled a rattling gasp. "I-it was nice to… to have someone c-care… If only for a… a façade…"

The Demon felt his stony heart crack listening to The Reaper's words. His master had ordered to make him comfortable… even if it was a lie (or half lie, for that matter) it would certainly comfort him. Sebastian pressed his lips to The Reaper's feverish forehead, if only for a moment. "Not all of my care is a façade, Grell."

Grell closed his eyes, feeling tears burning behind his eyelids. "At last," he whispered, "My curtain can fall… knowing… knowing by one at least… I was… L-loved…"

The Reaper whimpered. "S-scared…" he whimpered. "I'm s-scared, Sebastian… What is death, for Death?"

The Butler held him tightly, stroking his dull hair. "Shh," he hushed, "I'm here… I'm here…"

Grell whimpered again, slowly soothed to sleep by The Demon's steady heartbeat. Again, he felt his limbs becoming heavier. Again, he felt his lungs constrict and shrink with every labored breath he drew. And again he felt his own heart fighting so desperately to keep pumping, but losing steam so quickly.

Yet somehow…. Grell was at peace with it.

Grell's lips had just curled into a peaceful smile when came a knock at the door. Sebastian started to stand to answer it, but remembered his promise to Grell. "Mey- Rin!" he called.

In a moment, the maid was at the door, looking flustered as ever. "Yes, Mr. Sebastian?"

"Door, Mey-Rin." He commanded, "I'm afraid I'm indisposed at the moment."

"Yessir, answer the door right away, I will!" she chirped nervously, dashing off to answer the door.

Sebastian had little more than a moment to examine Grell's state before Mey-Rin returned. "Mr. Sebastian, sir?" she called. "The odd fellow at the door, 'e says 'e's visitin' for you, 'e 'is!"

Odd fellow? Sebastian wondered. "Told 'im you were 'indisposed', I did, but 'e insists it's 'official business'."

Sebastian's eyes closed in realization. "Bring him here, Mey-Rin."

"Yessir, Mr. Sebastian!" Mey-Rin bowed in compliance and scurried away.

Sebastian gazed down at the smiling Reaper. "So you knew." He spoke softly, "You knew this illness would overtake you."

Grell gave no answer, nor acknowledgement that The Butler's words were heard. "I'm afraid that really wasn't fair of you," The Butler chuckled bitterly, "Presenting me with a task you knew I couldn't complete… I know I'm one hell of a butler, but honestly…" The Butler sighed and shook his head. "The Master will be most displeased."

No more than a moment more passed before there was a knock on the door. "Come in." Sebastian called.

The door opened, revealing Mey-Rin followed by a quite tall and lanky gentleman, well over six feet not including a tall top hat perched atop long grey hair that half covered his scarred, smiling face. "Undertaker…" Sebastian's voice was low. "Come in and shut the door. Mey-Rin?"

"Yessir?" she squeaked.

"Please leave us." Sebastian commanded her, gently shifting The Reaper's body from his arms and beginning to stand.

"Yessir!" she quickly made herself scarce, eager to leave the disturbing new guest to his disturbing work.

The door closed behind Undertaker, who was smiling widely despite the situation. "Evening, Sebastian." He hummed.

"Good evening, Undertaker." Sebastian gave a polite, albeit strained smile. "It is unusual for you to make a house call this far out of your way."

"It is unusual to have a Cinematic Reaper in a Demon's territory." Undertaker chuckled. "No other Grim Reaper has the authority, desire, or stupidity to venture here."

Sebastian looked down at Grell with something resembling pity in his face. "That explains him." He muttered.

Undertaker shook his head. "Do not speak ill of the dying," he chided, "It hurts their heart as they leave the world."

Sebastian looked away, instead watching as Undertaker closed the door to the bathroom. "He has no pulse any longer." He pointed out, "And his chest is devoid of breath… yet still you say 'dying'?"

"Reapers do not fully die until their Cinematic Record has been chronicled." The Undertaker mused, using a black swatch of fabric to cover the mirror that rested over a vanity. "Instead, they slip into a state of suspended animation. Alive and semi-sentient, But only until their Cinematic Record can be released and their soul can be released."

Sebastian glanced down at the smiling Red Reaper. "Then, it is possible to revive him perhaps?" The Butler was grasping at straws. "Since he is not yet fully dead?"

Undertaker laughed loudly, an almost disturbingly joyous sound. "Oh… You're serious." He mused, his smile fading only as he realized Sebastian had not joined in. "No… It is not, this time. By all human standards, he is dead. Surely, you must've had some clue as to this fate?"

Sebastian looked down at The Red Reaper, a hint of resentment and anger in his face. "The Master and I simply thought it was his usual melodramatics." He admitted, "It would not be beyond me to imagine Grell exaggerating a cold so as to be doted on for awhile."

"Except for one thing," The Undertaker opened the window, almost hissing at the brightness of the setting sun. "Reapers do not fall ill. And impersonating illness is a crime punishable by death and expulsion."

Sebastian watched as The Undertaker lit a few more candles, then shooed The Demon out of the path between the bed and the window. "Because Reapers are immortal, and can simulate death when it suits their work, there is no human ailment that can affect them. Save for something that was transferred over from a past life; an allergy, asthma, something of that like." The Undertaker continued to explain. "The only kind of illness that can truly kill a Reaper is when they are at the end."

The Undertaker began to examine the Red Reaper's still body. "Such a shame," he shook his head and tutted softly, "So young, so lovely, and already at his end."

Sebastian turned away. Curse that Reaper, and the crack he'd put in his heart! He reached into his coat pocket, removing the sealed note and passing it to the gray-haired Grim Reaper. "He asked me to deliver this to you." Sebastian's voice was soft.

Undertaker used one long, black fingernail to peel the wax seal and open the letter. "Oh, how kind of him!" he chimed, his smile returned once more, "He remembered!"

Sebastian was silent as Undertaker read through the note aloud. "Hmm, Name, Grell Sutcliff, Reaper number FF1919… Shoulders, thirty-eight inches, that looks about right… Waist, twenty-eight inches, mmm, that's questionable…Height, five feet, seven inches, yes… Coffin request, black with red satin. My lucky day, I guessed correct! Looks as if everything's-" The Grim Reaper paused as something caught his hidden eyes. "Oh… Why, this is different."

"What is it, Undertaker?" Sebastian asked, idly watching the Grim Reaper's work.

The Undertaker turned to The Butler. "Well, see for yourself."

The Demon read the red ink calligraphy once, twice, then a third time- just to be sure his eyes were not deceiving him.

Sebastian,

I'm afraid I must ask one last favor of you.

Since you were the one being that cared for me, even though you were forced to, I want you to be the one that sets my Cinematic Record free.

Thank you.

Love as always,

Grell Sutcliff.

Sebastian looked up at the gray-haired Grim Reaper. "He wants ME to reap his soul?"

Undertaker nodded. "It would appear so." He mused, "I've heard of a Reaper asking a loved one to do it for them… I've heard it makes… passing… less painful…. Family, close friends, bosses, subordinates… Even humans. But I've never seen a request for a Demon. You must be terribly dear to him."

In a half-second (or so it seemed) The Grim Reaper was standing before Sebastian, chainsaw in hand. "So?" The Undertaker queried, "Will you accept his last request?"

Sebastian's eyes rested on the metal contraption. Slowly, his hands wrapped around it. "What kind of a Butler would I be," his voice was low and solemn. "If I couldn't complete my guest's last request?"

Undertaker stepped aside, his head bowed in respect, and gave The Butler a clear path. Sebastian's white gloved hand smoothed red hair from The Reaper's whiter than porcelain face. "If no other act of mercy has ever been shown to you in your miserable life, let this be one."

The Butler pulled a cord to start the chainsaw, making the machine growl to life on the first pull. "Rest in peace, Grell Sutcliff."

Without looking away, or even blinking, he drove the chainsaw into the Reaper's chest, splattering red onto the sheets and floors, as well as the walls and their clothing. "That's enough," The Undertaker spoke above the revving saw. "See, his Cinematic Record is leaving him."

Sebastian watched as the reels of energy floated from the gaping wound, lazily streaming out the window. Once it had all left the room, The Undertaker shut the window quickly. "The deed is done," he spoke. "Time of death, five twenty-three in the evening."

The grey-haired Grim Reaper brought the sheet that covered the lower portion of Grell's body over his face. "Don't suppose you'd mind me using this to move him?"

Sebastian shook his head, putting the chainsaw down on the bed. "The sheets and comforter will all have to be burned anyways."

The Demon turned tail towards the door. "I must make myself presentable and check the progress of supper before The Master's return." He spoke, his voice even, but noticeably downhearted. "Do your work as necessary."

Before The Undertaker could respond, The Butler had left, already disappearing to his quarters.

Sebastian went about his business as he normally would, changing out of his blood-spattered shirt and coat with disappointment at the loss of his favorite tailcoat, then changing into clean, unsullied attire. Once he was satisfied with his appearance, he left to check the progress of supper. He passed The Undertaker as he walked to the kitchen, carrying a lump wrapped in a white sheet, soaked through with red. Sebastian watched him carry it with no effort, so used to carrying dead weight, but quickly returned to his task. Somehow, it weighed down on his chest watching Undertaker carry away he whom The Demon had come to-dare he say- care for.

Nearly an hour passed before a familiar presence caught The Demon's attention. "Ah," he said aloud, "The Master has returned."

He went to meet Ciel in the parlor, but found that The Undertaker had beaten him to it. "Welcome home, My Lord." Sebastian bowed, "Undertaker, you're still here?"

The Grim Reaper gave a dry chuckle, "I simply came to let you know my work is done here," he said, then took Sebastian's hand in a firm handshake. "Good evening to you both, then."

Sebastian felt something in his hand, but pocketed it before he could be questioned. "His work is done?"Ciel turned to him as Undertaker showed himself out. "What'd he mean by that?"

Sebastian bowed apologetically. "My deepest apologies, My Lord." He said, "But as it turned out, The Reaper Grell's illness was beyond my power to cure."

Ciel barely bat an eye at the news. "Pity." He tsked softly. "No matter… it's not as if he was help to us at the moment anyways. What's for supper?"

"A beef stew with potatoes and rice, My Lord." Sebastian replied, not missing a beat.

"Excellent," Ciel said. "I'd like it as soon as it's ready. Lunch was so dreadful, I hardly ate. Honestly, if Elizabeth and I DO marry, YOU will be the one who prepares meals."

Sebastian chuckled and offered a smile. "You flatter me, My Lord."

Ciel stopped once he reached the office. "Please inform me when supper is ready… I'm going to finish paperwork and retire after supper."Ciel turned back to Sebastian. "And I order you to do the same."

Sebastian gave a polite, albeit slightly confused, bow. "As you wish, My Lord."

The rest of the night passed without incident. Sebastian spent the time waiting for the stew to finish by gathering blood-and-illness-soaked bedding and sleepwear, and bringing it to the incinerator to be disposed of properly. Then, by washing the barely dried blood from the floor and walls, became it became impossible to remove. By the time he was finished, it was as if The Red Reaper had never been there at all. He served his master supper, then proceeded with their nighttime ritual of preparing for bed. Sebastian had just bid his goodnights to his master when Ciel spoke. "It wasn't your fault."

"My Lord?" Sebastian asked.

"Just as I said. It wasn't your fault." Ciel said softly. "You're angry with yourself over The Reaper Sutcliff's death. But he was doomed from the start. It wasn't fair of me to ask an impossible task of you, Demon or no."

The Demon wondered if he was as transparent as his master made him seem. He offered his usual smile. "I'm not upset about The Reaper," he half-lied. "Only that my day tomorrow will be spent searching for new bedding to replace those his blood ruined."

"If you say so." Ciel shrugged, then rolled over so his back was facing the door.

The Demon shut the door behind him, obeying his Master's order to retire early. Once he reached his quarters, he reached into his pocket to see what it was The Undertaker had slipped him.

A pendant. Glass, it appeared. Red. And a note, hastily scrawled out in black pen.

Heard this helps with the grief. Whether you choose to accept it or not, I could tell you cared about him.

Upon closer inspection, Sebastian realized the glass pendant had a lock of red hair squashed between the two pieces.

He turned it over in his fingers a few times, before pressing the glass to his lips, then placing it on the nightstand at his bedside.

How unfair it was.

PLEASE DON'T KILL MEEEE! *braces for bricks from angry Grell fangirls*

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