A/N: Thanks to Resistant Raisin for their beta help. Everything hereafter is my own doing. This will be the last chapter they're able to work on for the near future, so I'd just like to remind everyone that I am 100% open to feedback in reviews.


Grell carefully untangled herself as they stared and stood, chain in hand. The creatures made no move except to tilt their heads up just a little.

"What are they doing?"

"Walk to the left," Sebastian said. Not taking her eyes off the creatures, Grell did so. Their gaze followed her. "It would seem they're watching you."

Grell shifted from foot to foot, unsure of how to proceed, until Sebastian cleared his throat.

"Well? We haven't got all day, Grell."

She whined, but steeled herself nonetheless. Grell was a reaper, and they were just... well, she wasn't sure what they were exactly, as their files had been only so helpful, but they were certainly not on level with a reaper. She hoped.

Wrapping the chain around her hands, she stretched a length tight and tentatively approached. Much as she'd like to go her usual route and hack them to bits to see what lay inside, Sebastian would scowl at her like he did the other servants, like he did when he thought she was just a butler. It wasn't a sexy scowl, but rather a look of eternal, expected disappointment. Grell got that enough at work.

Though their cold eyes followed her, there was no further movement from the creatures. The ground squelched as she approached, turned to mud that sucked at her shoes. Grell caught one just above where several long, reddish tube-like worms lay, dead without their water, and the teeth sank in deeper than expected, meeting none of the normal resistance of flesh. She gagged at the smell and made sure to not breathe. That also meant no talking; the sooner she was away the better.

The cinematic record rolled out, and Sebastian made the surprised sound Grell couldn't. It was absolutely mangled, and far too much was coming out for just that tiny cut. With the dead, their records often struggled to reach for heaven so were easily collected without even touching the body, but the living needed a real maiming to get their records. Grell had known these creatures weren't truly alive, but they weren't truly dead, either. This was like cutting into a sandbag. Everything just poured out.

She stepped back as it unspun, as though the merest contact would contaminate her. Sebastian shared no such worry, and reached out to touch a length. It passed through his hand, and he pulled back, staring at his gloved palm.

Grell played nervously with the length of chain, fretting over whether she should collect it or not. It wasn't stopping despite the shallowness of the cut, and as she watched, she caught glimpses of the life the man must have lived, riddled with holes. She certainly couldn't leave it to be picked apart by scavengers like Sebastian. Though she knew that wasn't his type of thing, the other reapers didn't. It was her duty as a reaper to collect souls, one she learned to take more seriously now for disdain of reparations if not for actual care, and if ever there was a soul that needed collecting, it was one of the damned and drowned.

"I'm going to collect it," she announced. As soon as she breathed in air to speak, the stench coated her tongue, viscous and oily. It was getting worse the longer they watched. "Try not to let anything hurt me, please?"

"Of course, Grell."

Grell glanced askew at Sebastian's easy agreement. Them not being at odds was unusual enough as it was, but she supposed he never really carried any particular malice toward her as an individual. So long as she wasn't in the way, or offending his aesthetic, or trying to eviscerate him to get at his pretty red insides, he didn't care either way about her. She gave him a dirty look, earning a polite look of bafflement, then turned her attention back to the creature.

Rolling several lengths of her scythe chain into a loop, she tossed it over the record and dragged it closer to be viewed. Instead of golden, its backlight was a sickly blue, but she could watch it, streaming through the man's entire life in a single breath. After that, it was nothing but ocean so deep the sun barely reached, amorphous shapes lumbering, slithering, flicking in the gloom. She watched as salt and sea ate away at his soul.

There was something else, though, scattered between record and holes. Grell caught a length and brought it closer for inspection. Tiny eyes, the brightest blue she'd ever seen, speckled the record like polka dots.

Grell shoved the record away and let it peter out without having been completely viewed. That was only a formality, and she'd seen enough. There wasn't anything left to the man he'd been before.

When she turned her attention back to the outside world, Sebastian had removed the other creatures, and the one whose record she'd been watching lay still at her feet. The demon stood sentry over it, silverware glinting in his hand, but it had given up the ghost along with its record.

"What did you see?" Sebastian asked.

"I think-" Grell rubbed her eyes, trying to dispel the blue glow. "I think something saw me."

Sebastian's eyebrows twitched up a little, but before he could comment his gaze drifted to the manor. "Ah, we have company."

Grell quickly dematerialized her scythe except for the chain. That she slipped into her pocket to deal with later.

Her human presence settled around her like a shroud, and she felt almost comforted by it, a strange sensation but not unwelcome compared to how it usually felt. Until she let the disguise slip, she'd been just another human to be ignored.

She turned at the sound of the others approaching and took a step away from the body. Something hard and small hit her shin. Grell stumbled. Sebastian caught her, and she looked up at him with a confusing mix of maiden blush and severe frown. When she tried to straighten, his grip tightened, keeping her in an awkward swoon against him.

"Mr Grell, are you all right?" Finny asked as they crowded around. Grell had to wonder how they got anything done, always moving like a pack. At least that boy, Snake, looked like he knew he should be doing something else besides playing spectator.

"Perhaps you were right earlier," Sebastian said before Grell could speak up. She pinched him on the side instead, as payback for that rock he flicked. She just knew a bruise was forming on her shin. "Grell has far too delicate a constitution to be shown such things. Please take her inside and see that she has a cup of tea." He shoved her into Bard to deal with. "I'll clean this up."

When nobody made a move to leave, as they were actively trying to peer past Sebastian to see the body and not really paying any attention to him, he cleared his throat. "Now."


Bard kept an arm around Grell's shoulder as he led her into the kitchen, as though afraid she was going to faint if forced to walk on her own. As they entered, she caught sight of the only servant absent thus far. Tanaka sat next to the oven, his customary cup of tea in hand.

"Don't know what he's thinkin'," Bard muttered, chewing on his cigarette. "Showin' you those people. It's obvious you weren't up for that."

"Well, he did want my input on them," she said weakly as she was maneuvered into a chair near Tanaka, so they could both be warmed by the oven. Now that she was surrounded by heat, she realized she'd been cold. Very cold, in a numb sort of way. That was a rare sensation. Grell rubbed her arms. "I couldn't very well give it without seeing them."

Bard went to make the tea Sebastian had ordered, and the others immediately swarmed in to take his place. Grell hunched down into herself, playing self-consciously with a brown lock of hair.

"What do you think they are?" Meyrin asked. "I was thinking they was the shambling undead, come to avenge the wrongs committed 'gainst them." Grell glanced up, startled. That was an oddly perceptive hypothesis, and it was as good as any she'd come up with so far.

"Ignore her," Bard called from across the kitchen. "She's been reading too many gothic novels."

"Couldn't they just be ill people, like Bard suggested last time?" Finny said. "I don't like that we had to, um... uh..." he trailed off, looking at Grell.

"We had to call the police, we did," Meyrin stepped in. "Them people got carted away to Bedlam, I'm sure of it."

"And what about that one out there now? Here, Grell. You look a bit peaky." Bard held out a cup and saucer, and Grell took it with a watery smile and thanks. "It's no problem," Bard said gruffly, turning his attention to the table Finny had decided to perch on and shoo him off as he spoke, as though he ran a respectable kitchen.

While the others theorized around her, she zoned out, musing over Mey-Rin's theory. Something was attracting them, definitely. They were sea and salt, not fit for the land. And Sebastian hadn't wanted Ciel involved - perhaps they were some old victims of the demon's, or otherwise associated. Grell had to remind herself that he did exist before Ciel, and would exist long after. Sebastian probably had a lot of bodies in his wake, and not just the ones he killed, but those he had killed for, before devouring. She shivered, thinking of him swallowing down souls with that artificial grin on his face.

"Sebastian shouldn't have had you out there with him, especially if he was going to kill 'em. Not everyone's got the stomach for death. How're you holding up?"

"Eh?" Grell asked around the weak tea, once she realized Bard had directed that at her. He was being far kinder to her this time around. Grell could work with this. "Oh, the death. Yes. I feel sorry for that poor man - " She forced a hiccough and set her cup down to bring the back of her hand to her mouth, stifling a cry. "I - I'm sorry. I've never seen anyone die before. Not like that."

Arms were around her, strong but aware of their strength. Grell gave a squeak before she realized she was being hugged, not hit. She still couldn't bring herself to relax at the sudden contact.

"Please don't cry, Mr Grell!" Finny declared far louder than he had to right next to her ear. "We'll make sure you don't have to see that again."

"Yeah, you weren't one of us for long, but you were one of us," Bard added, letting his hand come to rest on Grell's shoulder. "We look out for our own."

"Yes indeed, sir!" Meyrin chirped from the other side of Grell, winding her arms into the group hug. Beyond the cage of their arms, Grell could hear the customary, quiet laugh of Tanaka.

If she wasn't careful, all this unexpected support would make her actually tear up, even if it wasn't really for her. She covered Bard's hand with her own. "Thank you, all of you. You're very kind."

Bard pulled away and broke up the hug. "It's no problem. I've seen men cut up over less, and it doesn't make them any less of a man for it." His gaze slipped to Finny a moment, before returning to Grell. The look seemed a little out of place to her, as she knew for a fact Finny had killed before. And that was where she'd seen Snake. The cinematic records of those circus people. At least one question had been answered.

"You just enjoy your tea, and me and Tanaka'll be right here if you need." He landed a knife in his butcher's block, then turned to the others hovering. "Finny, Meyrin, Snake. Don't you have work to do?"

They scrambled away with assurances that they were there for her (well, him - Grell couldn't even correct them, here), too, and they were glad that Grell wasn't too undone. Snake paused a moment, and presented a red, black, and yellow banded snake wrapped around his wrist. "I hope you feel better, says Emily."

Grell took that in stride. "Thank you, Emily," she told her.

The snake hissed a reply, but Grell missed it as Snake was already retreating, following the others. If he hadn't said anything, it was easy to forget he was there. That boy actively tried to blend into walls, and with his history that she'd seen, she understood why. Poor dear.

The kitchen fell unnaturally silent as soon as they were gone, until Bard began chopping some vegetables. Grell sipped her tea, thinking about the record stored away on the chain in her pocket, and they fell into a contemplative lull.

"So what's with the molly outfit?" Bard asked.

Grell choked.


Grell popped in and out of the estate for the next few days, but little else of note happened, and that fact settled between Sebastian and herself, despite their partnership courtesy of Ciel's demand that she help.

She'd left Sebastian to match her diagrams with his map of appearances, but though he succeeded, Grell had been unable to find what they meant. He claimed to have no enemies, which Grell found suspicious but Sebastian wouldn't lie, she was sure of it. A man who was literally an embodiment of evil, without enemies. What a force to be reckoned with, and Grell had to resist the urge to do just that.

Another failure was what to do with her chain. The spare was already on her scythe, but she couldn't actually submit the record without catching someone's attention. Sebastian had outright refused her brilliant idea to hide the paperwork under some near identical papers courtesy of him killing someone, muttering something about reaper aesthetics or the lack thereof. So the chain sat in her vest pocket, an unusual, slightly disorienting weight, constantly reminding her of the questions she'd been unable to find answers for.

She remateralized at the manor in the darkest, dampest part of night, after the moon had gone down and sunrise was just about to come. After a quick jaunt around to see if any of those creatures were standing on the lawns as the sky began to lighten, she approached the window to Sebastian's room and climbed up to peek inside. She could see the white of his shirt and skin glowing in the pre-dawn light where he was laying, doll-like, on top of the covers. Grell barely got one tap out before he was at the window, sliding it up.

"Go away."

Sebastian closed the window, turned, and left the room.

She stared at her own reflection, his words not registering for a moment, then began rapping her knuckles on the glass panes. "Hey! Let me in!"

Grell waited. He didn't return. With a disgruntled sigh, she glanced around for any prying eyes before flickering into invisibility and letting herself in. The manor was silent and dark, everyone still in bed except for one, solitary servant. And a handful of mewling cats. It took only a moment's consideration for Grell to throw open Sebastian's wardrobe and release the cats.

Grell left them to roam free, and returned to the matter at hand. She found Sebastian alone in the kitchen.

"What'd you do that for?" Grell asked, startling him from the dishes he was setting out for Ciel's breakfast. He caught one before it could hit the ground.

With a controlled movement that oozed suppressed anger, Sebastian set the plate on the tray next to its brethren. "I believe I told you to only come by if you have information."

"I can't get information if I don't come by."

Sebastian was silent as he began to work. As he wasn't kicking her out, Grell settled in on the counter to await his response. When he continued to not say anything, she began to suspect he was ignoring her in the hopes that that would make her leave. Grell didn't have a job until 9:00, so she was going nowhere.

Finally, he turned to her. "It would appear we're at an impasse, then."

"Why didn't you tell me what they actually looked like?"

"What do you mean?"

"You left out a lot of details that would have helped me identify them faster when you first described them."

"You didn't tell me everything, either."

Grell glowered at him in that way that showed her teeth and her disdain all in one. She thought she'd been careful editing the documents, but he was clever. There was no use denying that she'd redacted information. "I don't tell you things because it could get me in trouble. You don't tell me things because you're an arse."

"True," he said with a shrug. "I apologize for not giving you all the necessary information. Given our history, I can be rather reticent when dealing with your kind." A silence fell as Sebastian worked, and Grell thought he was ignoring her again until he said, "Perhaps it would behoove you to do the same toward mine, lest you find yourself in trouble." The smile that accompanied his statement was cold and hard.

"If you hadn't noticed, Bassy, I want the kind of trouble you're offering." She winked, and had to stifle a giggle at how naughty she was being.

Sebastian's smile lost some of its chill, and when he suddenly moved, Grell's hands flew to protect her face. At the lack of ensuing violence, she peeked at him from behind her fingers. His hands were braced on the counter on either side of her, his face close enough to share breath. She lowered her hands slowly.

"You really don't, Miss Sutcliff."

He leaned back and picked up the tray as though nothing had happened. She watched Sebastian leave in silence, and sat mulling over his words until Bard came tramping down the stairs.

Grell disappeared in a haze of light.


Several Sebastian-less days later, she found herself fidgeting in front of a sparsely populated, tidy desk. Grell stood in Will's office, waiting for him to say something. The minutes stretched out. She wished he'd look up at her, at least, instead of at the letter in his hand, reading over every word again. A very similar one was in her own pocket, handed to her when she'd gone in to collect her assignments for the day.

Grell had known her curiosity would get the best of her. And she'd only just made peace with the fact that it was over, that maybe it was best Sebastian had kicked her out, despite that it meant she was useless. It was exhausting living a double life, just like she'd been doing with Anne, and Grell knew it had to blow up in her face sooner rather than later. Everyone was just waiting for a repeat.

"Temp Agent Grell Sutcliff," he began, nothing but formal.

"Yes, Will?" She couldn't help the faint hopeful tint to her words. Surely they were too understaffed, so Will would fight to keep her, like he'd fought to keep her after Anne. It warmed her heart just to think about that, though it also hurt, just to think about that.

"You are being reassigned to the Special Concerns Program, effective immediately. Please hand in your identification and your keys. All porting rights to this location will be revoked. You may not enter London Dispatch without supervision and superior clearance, and you will be escorted off the premise. Do you understand?"

Grell threw herself forward, half onto his desk. "I don't want to go, William! Don't make me leave!"

Will's gaze finally rose to meet Grell's, and surprisingly, he made no move to shove her off his desk. "This is an executive decision, Grell. You're for all intents and purposes already gone. Besides," he added somewhat roughly, reorganizing some papers Grell had knocked askew. "We knew your position here was only temporary, to better distribute the workload. You've never officially been a part of the London Branch."

Grell sank down off of his desk, taking with her a cup of pens and a memo pad. She'd felt like part of the London Branch.

Will had already prepared himself to let her go, already came up with justifications and reasons to counter her emotional pleas. Normally Grell loved this coldness, but not when it had actual consequences she cared about. She sat on the floor, back pressed to the desk, and picked up one of the pens to cap and uncap morosely. Grell heard William shifting around, but he made no move to come to her side of the desk or retrieve his spilled office supplies.

"What's your assignment?" Will asked, finally. "The letter didn't specify."

"You wouldn't like it." Cap on. Cap off. Cap on.

"Are you able to tell me? I'll make no judgment either way."

Cap off. "I don't see why not." Grell knocked her head against his desk, face scrunched up in frustration. "Ah, I did this to myself."

"Did what?"

"I was looking up something for Sebastian, and I guess the director got wind of it. Now I'm officially investigating."

The rustling of papers and scratch of pen fell eerily silent. "You were giving information to that vermin? You're lucky you weren't put before the council for treason, Grell! With your record, it would have been a one-way trip to Antarctica."

Grell couldn't help but smile at the worry in his voice. Yes, it was hidden under a layer of anger, but it was there nonetheless, contradicting his promise not to judge. "It wasn't anything like that. Just... stories, weird things, completely harmless. He honestly could have found them on his own, if he knew where to look. I've been doing it for about a week, now." Her mild tone turned acidic. "That nasty serpent must have been keeping tabs on what I was doing the entire time. Spying on me. I wonder if I can get back pay for it?"

"By serpent I assume you mean Director Sutcliff. It'll win you no favour to refer to her as such."

Grell turned around so she could sit on her knees and peek over the edge of the desk at Will. "I don't want any favour with her, Will."

"I think I know why you're in this situation, then, Grell." Will's decisive, brush stroke eyebrows rose as he gave her a very pointed look.

Grell scrunched her nose in his direction, but secretly she was relieved. Will wasn't brushing her aside, ready to move on and slide some newbie into her desk before the seat had even gotten cold. He didn't tease just anybody. Grell knew he'd miss her. Dispatch just wouldn't be the same without her.