I watch as Sebastian and Grell fight on a rooftop. It's all what I expected it to be, until Sebastian takes off his tailcoat. He shoves it right at Grell's Death Scythe and it gets caught in the mechanism, the roar stopping. Sebastian proceeds to beat the flamboyant reaper into submission. I hear him scream "NOT THE FACE!" and every blow is sent at his face. Grell lands face first on the cobblestones, making him more of a mess than he was before. The Death Scythe lands a few feet away, the coat still lodged in the blade.

"You look pretty awful," the boy says, commenting as if it's not THAT big of a deal. Sebastian is covered in blood. He really should be dead.

"He caused me a little bit of trouble, actually," Sebastian replies. He's awfully chipper for someone covered in blood from his own wounds.

"I-I'll show you s-someday," Grell croaks past his swollen, beaten face.

"Oh, dear," the butler sighs. "I suppose one can't kill a reaper with bare fists alone," he pulls the Death Scythe out of the ground, "Well, then, I'll just try this! His very special Reaper scythe!" he takes the coat out of the blade with ease. "There! That's unstuck. Now it should cut right through you."

"No! What are you doing! No, wait—"Grell starts to speak but is cut off by a foot to the face.

"I must say this is much nicer. I prefer kicking to being kicked," Sebastian comments, " Master, he's revolting, but still a divine being. Are you prepared to accept whatever consequences come of killing him?"

"Sebastian, do you need me to repeat my order?" the boy says coldly.

"No, sir," Sebastian answers and rips the Scythe to life, ready to cut Grell into tiny ribbons. "We've finally found something you're good at, screaming. Very well done," he says, andi can hear the sadistic smile in his voice. "And, as a reward, I shall kill you with this cherished little toy of yours."

"NO! PLEASE STOP! DON'T KILL ME!" Grell begs.

"So sorry…" Sebastian isn't sorry at all.

"I CAN TELL YOU WHO KILLED THE KID'S PARENTS!" he yells. The boy looks up sharply, gasps a little. Sebastian begins to swing the Scythe at Grell, but right at the last second, a pair of hedge clippers comes between Grell and his own weapon.

Hedge clippers…William! I have never, ever been so relieved to see a cold, emotionless workaholic before in my life. And there he is, on the roof of a house. He retracts his Death Scythe and looks down at us. "I apologize for interrupting, let me introduce myself, I am William T. Spears, an administrator at the Grim Reaper Staffing Association. I've come to retrieve that Reaper there." He looks at Grell, who is staring back up at him, a look of admiration plastered on his face.

"William! Oh, William! Did you come to save me?" Grell just gets his face shoved into the ground in response as William jumps from the roof and lands on him.

"Attention Reaper Grell Sutcliff. You have violated several regulations. First, you killed people not on the To-Die list, second, you used a Death Scythe that had been modified without authorization, and finally, you offered someone classified information on the identity of his relatives' murderer." William grinds Grell's face against the pavement once more. "I apologize for all of the trouble this wretch has caused. Here, please accept my card. Honestly, I never thought I'd see the day when I had to bow my head to demon scum like you." Demon? Huh? "This is a disgrace to all Grim Reapers."

"Then perhaps you should keep a better eye on your minions," Sebastian tosses away the card. "So they don't trouble us. Humans are so easily tempted. They will do anything when in the grip of utter despair." I think of Madam Red, how she killed all those people out of envy. "They will grasp at any thread that promises to save them from unhappiness, no matter the consequences. You should know that."

"That's a charming bit of hypocrisy. You demons capitalize on that quality more often than we do."

"That I cannot deny."

"Right now you seem to be a tame dog: that makes you so much less dangerous than the rabid mongrels running around free. Now, come with me, Grell, we're leaving. You too, Alexis, we wouldn't want you to get lost in the middle of the night, especially with a demon." I stand up and follow him, smiling to myself as I watch Grell being dragged by the hair. "The board is not going to be pleased."

An object suddenly flies past my face and I jump back, narrowly avoiding Grell's Death Scythe. William catches it between two fingers. "I assume you'll want that," Sebastian says.

"Yes, thank you," William replies coldly, dropping the Death Scythe on Grell. I pick it up off of him and carry it with me, not wanting it to drag on the cobblestones and make annoying little scraping noises. "Now, if you'll excuse us…" we walk out of the alleyway.

I follow William without question until I'm sure we're out of earshot. "What was all that about demons?" I ask. He sighs and pushes up his glasses with the hedge glasses.

"The butler you saw was only a cover. That is really a demon, a creature of Hell. He formed a contract with the Earl Phantomhive, the boy with the pentagram on his eye. That same symbol can be seen on the demon's hand, it is the mark of their contract. When the boy gets revenge on the people responsible for murdering his parents, which cannot be done without the help of the demon, the demon shall get his soul in return for serving him." William explains.

"That's appalling…" I comment. It really is.

"Did this shameful excuse for a reaper happen to come to your home this morning to speak to you and your father about coming to the Dispatch Society to work?" William changes the subject.

"Yes… I would go, if he wasn't the one asking," I joke, but I'm half serious.

"Hey, that's mean!" Grell moaned. It is mean. But it's also true; I don't want to give Grell the satisfaction of knowing that I'm going because HE asked me.

"We are terribly shorthanded, and now this idiot gave me even more overtime," William gave Grell a small kick, "so please consider joining the Dispatch Society, if you will," he says formally. I smile and push up my glasses.

"When do I start?"