A/N: I'm really thrilled that people are enjoying my story. Hopefully this chapter will answer a few more questions.

Chapter 7: At the Party

All around Grell were smiles and laughter as she sat silently in the corner and quietly drank in all of the excitement. Although Ronald hadn't much time to plan an actual party since they had only found out this morning that Alan was returning to work, just the fact that Alan was actually there and looking quite healthy was enough to make it a celebratory event.. The room was filled with every active reaper plus quite a few people from different apartments. Alan was apparently quite the popular fellow, Grell mused as the fake, painted smile never left her face. In fact, practically the only one not in attendance was William. He had been muttering something about waiting to hear back from somebody, and hadn't left the sanctity of his office all day. It was a shame since it really was a nice party, although Grell was having trouble enjoying herself.

Despite stopping by her apartment to apologize for his earlier behavior, Eric had been purposely avoiding her today – or so it seemed. At first, she thought that she was just being paranoid, but there had been several times this evening that Eric's gaze had drifted in her direction only for him to pointedly look away. She had considered just walking up to him and speaking directly, and she probably would have in the past, but today she just didn't feel like. This morning she had awoke looking paler and it appeared like she had dropped a little weight. In fact, she looked worse than she had ever noticed Alan looking, and the only reasoning that Grell could think of was that she had suddenly been given an advanced state of the Thorns while Alan had gotten sick gradually. There was also a possibility that she simply hadn't noticed how sick Alan had been, but she was still at least partially sure that she was actually worse than he had been.

In truth, she was more than a little angry and annoyed. She was quite literally sacrificing everything so that Alan could live and no one could even tell that she wasn't feeling like herself. Eric wasn't being openly rude to her anymore, but now he was acting as if she didn't even exist. She was giving up her own life in such a way that he could keep his love by his side. The least he could do was to make eye contact and acknowledge that she was there. Laughter and joyous conversation drifted about the room like banners, but it made Grell feel all the more isolated. She wanted to yell, scream, and demand that everyone see that she had done something that wasn't foolish, selfish, or deranged, but she simply sat and thought about everything.

If she could find Ivory at this moment, she would grab the angel and demand that she undo the deal. Grell had gotten her wish. She had been able to see what would happen if she was the one dying, and the truth wasn't attractive. She would never have a love holding her in her final moments and, no matter what she did, she wouldn't be remembered. Alan would. He would have those things that she never had, and the only thing that her sacrifice would accomplish for her now was that she would be able to die knowing there had been little or no point to her existence. While she realized that if she simply announced that she had the Thorns and that she was reason that Alan had been healed things might be different, but it still wasn't fair or enough. The sad simple truth is that no one would have cared as much if she had been the one that had been dying all along.

She had been so much more accepting of her fate last night. Sitting quietly in her own apartment, she had struggled with writing a farewell letter to William. Normally, she found it quite easy to express even her most turbulent feelings with words, but writing the letter had proven to be exceptionally difficult. She must have started writing the letter a dozen times, crumpling countless sheets of paper and tossing them aside until they littered the floor like misshapen snowballs, before she finally wrote something acceptable. It wasn't her most poetic or moving work, but she hoped that her simple words would suffice. At this moment, the letter was folded and resting comfortably in the pocket of her pants. She could feel it there, and, in an odd way, it gave her some strength. Although she was no longer fooling herself by imagining Will being moved by her words, the idea that she would be able to express exactly how she felt was comforting. Her only decision now would be whether it would be best to leave the letter in her apartment or her office. While she was sure that if the letter was addressed to William, it would eventually reach no matter where it was left, she didn't want her final act to be an embarrassment to him. The idea that she wanted to act discreetly, which was against her typical nature, caused giggles to rise up in her throat but she managed to hide it with a slight cough.

The party was breaking up and Grell watched as the others begin to leave. She decided that this was the best time to return to her office and leave her letter to William. She would place it one of her files because she knew that would be one of the places that only William would look. As she stood, she saw Eric tell Alan to go on home and that he would finish cleaning up here. Eric glanced up as Alan started to walk away, and for the briefest of moments his eyes met hers, but he suddenly turned away as if he had seen something disturbing. Grell let her smile slip ever so slightly. She was still tempted to confront Eric about his behavior, and perhaps she would later if she felt like it. Perhaps she would do so later, but now she had something else that she wanted to do. The letter in her pocket shifted as she moved, almost as if it was asking to be placed in a file.

Quietly, she left the room and walked down the deserted hall towards her office. Everyone else was leaving by another hallway, and it seemed that she was completely alone for the moment. Her footsteps exploded in pervasive quiet, but the thoughts twisting about her head was so much louder as she walked. Her chest ached with something that cut so much deeper than the Thorns, but she refused to give in to the feelings. She wasn't going to cry. She wouldn't allow herself.

As she pushed the door open, a horrible, burning sensation suddenly erupted in her body. She gasped in pain and clumsily fell to the floor in an undignified heap. Each wave of pain cause her to jerk and twist like a helpless marionette being controlled by a sadistic puppet master. Despite her resolution, tears formed in the corner of her eyes as she struggled through the worst attack she had experienced so far.

"Grell!" a voice yelled.

Through pain hazed eyes, Grell looked up and saw William standing in the door and some distant part of her mind realized that he actually looked upset. "Will," she managed to groan.

William knelt by her side and actually wrapped his arm around her back. Although Grell recognized that the pain faded because the attack was passing, she couldn't help but romanticize the situation and think that it was the presence of the one she truly loved that had chased away the hurt. She tried to smile up at him, to show him how much she appreciated him being there even if he could never love her, but she knew that her expression was still pained.

"Grell," William repeated, apparently forgoing his typical use of her surname, "Did the angel do this to you?"

"What?" Grell asked, her eyes growing wide. For a brief moment she thought that she must have been hearing things. "How did you know about the angel?"

William shook his head. "It doesn't matter," he replied quickly, "But was it the angel? Did you make some sort of deal that you would take the Thorns from Alan?"

Grell was still shocked, but she nodded her head slowly. "I didn't want you to know," she whispered, "At least not yet."

"Why would you do something like that?" William demanded.

"I didn't mean to," Grell blurted. That wasn't what she wanted to say. The heroine should speak eloquently about sacrifices and costs, but she had been shocked into admitting the truth. "I told the angel that I didn't want to take Alan's place. I told her no, but then she asked me to think about it. She said I could make the decision in my sleep." The tears that she had been fighting against broke loose and trailed down her face in a silver, spidery path. "I'm not sure why I agreed to take his disease."

"That's because you didn't," Eric said, stepping into view. He dropped his head and took a long, shaky breath. "I did."

"What?" William cried, rising up on his knees slightly.

"But I didn't do it on purpose," Eric added quickly, perhaps seeing something in William's face that frightened him, "An angel came to me the other night and said that the Thorns could be passed on to another reaper. I told her to give the disease to me and spare Alan. She had this strange smile on her face and just kept asking if I agreed for the disease to be passed to another reaper, and I told her that I did. I thought that I would be the one who would get it, and I kept waiting for the first symptoms to appear." He looked down at the floor as if seeing it for the first time. "When I first saw that Grell was acting sick, I tried to ignore it. I didn't want to accept that I had passed the disease to him. I was the one who was supposed to die in Alan's place."

Grell could see the pain so clearly written in Eric's face. While she wasn't precisely thrilled that Eric had been the one who had put her in this position, it did at least explain his most recent behavior. Anger, apologetic, and even avoidance – all these outward emotions and actions stemmed from guilt. Besides, the idea that he had been willing to give up his own life for Alan was quite romantic, and Grell had to admit it was a beautiful notion. If only Eric had left her out of it.

William opened his mouth, but a portal suddenly appeared behind Eric and a dark figure stood framed in the light. Grell couldn't make out his exact features, but she could tell that it was a tall, imposing individual that stood staring at all of them.

"William T. Spears," boomed the voice of the newcomer, "The council is ready to hear from you. Bring those two reapers and walk this way."

Grell tried to struggle to her feet but she still felt very weak and drained from her most recent attack. Her feet felt unsteady and unsure as she slowly attempted to push herself to stand, but she worried that it was a losing battle. Just as she was about to give up, she felt William's arms encircle her and lift her easily in his embrace. She gasped slightly and risked a quick glance at his face, but he wasn't looking at her. This was one of the moments she had dreamed of for so long, and it was hard to believe that it was actually happening. She wrapped her arms around his neck and snuggled against his chest, deeply inhaling his scent – fully expecting him to either drop her or tell her to stop any instant, but he did neither. It was so comfortable, and she tried to accept that this could truly be one of those defining moments. How as it worded in stories? That she would be happy if she died in this moment? It sounded like a beautiful sentiment, but she had to accept one very definite thing.

It wasn't true.

She wanted more. Just being held in William's steady arms wasn't enough for her. She wanted a chance to do so much more. She wanted to live. She wanted to love and be loved.

Wordlessly, William walked towards the portal as Eric followed. Grell could only wonder what would happen once they were before the council, but she felt so much more secure than she had in far too long. If only this feeling would last. If only it could last. If only.