Disclaimer: I don't own Kuroshitsuji

A/N: Sorry for the long time to update! School projects and things got in my way, Finals are up in two weeks and tryouts for color guard are in the air too! Here's a nice long one! Enjoy!


Alan's eyes went wide but he instantly calmed his features, placing a cool gaze to her fiery eyes, and took slow, easy breaths. "Enough time for what?" He asked politely, a warming smile attempted to give mock assurance."I give you ten minutes to let you leave from where we stand, yet you lock the door. Am I supposed to gain a parlor trick from this? Samantha, please take your seat." Her arrogant smirk faded away when she realized that she no longer intimidated him, she brought her arms up behind her head and stretched while walking back to her seat.

He went off to the side, going to a table and then turning around with a tray that carried a tea set. Carefully, he placed it on the desk and took a hold of the kettle of water.

"Drink some," he offered to her, pouting hot water into her cup. Life in the office consisted of the tea one would find in a small bag that held mixed herbs, not of the tea nobles would drink for luxury out of special herbs boiled to perfection. He had a small packet and opened it for her. She obliged, with hesitation, and dipped the bag into her cup, a string held it so that when the water mixed with the said ingredients she would be able to remove it and drink. He poured another cup for himself and sat in his own chair across from her. She dipped the bag lazily, her eyes coldly staring at his, which were focused on the tea. "Seeing how you want a cup of tea...you seem to want to cooperate. I'll give you thirty minutes to explain your purpose."

There was an awkward silence, her fingers released the string and let the bag sit in the piping hot water. She folded them on the desk as he reached for the tray to take a cube of sugar to drop into his tea. He stirred it with a small teaspoon and, once deeming it ready, brought the cup to his lips and drank. The way he done so got her suspicious, she could not help but drum her fingernails on the wooden desk. It was so casual, so easy. She sensed the fear radiating moments ago but now it was gone. Now it was her turn to build up that emotion.

His eyebrows lifted up when his eyes wanders over to look at her as if saying,'Well, are you going to talk or what?'

She thought that she would rather say it when he placed the cup down on the saucer.

"My name's Samantha Starveling, I am not a reaper, nor am I demon if you want to kill me," she said the last bit with spite to emphasize her point that was ready to come. He nodded for her to continue. "I come from the States but my work for my Master had brought me here about ten years ago. Ever since the Civil War twenty years ago, reapers have been highly scarce in our land." She stared down at her tea. "...he requires them for our work."

"So your Master, is he a demon?"

She shook her head and took the small handle. She drank from it with tiny sips.

"Then what is he?"

"He's human." She shrugged. "I'm human as well."

He nodded and leaned against his desk with his chin resting on the palm of his hand. His index finger tapped his cheek rhythmically as he spoke with a tiny smile,"How are humans like you messing with gods like us? It's impressive you're able to conceal your soul, even during training at the Academy and everything else. It's more impressive that you tore down the other Divisions single handed."

Samantha shook her head once more. "No, the Divisions are alive if you imply them as dead, they just imploded on the inside and, well...let's just say that they're somewhere else. Can I go now?" She said the last so fast that when her fingers that drummed on the table, they began to flick over her nails quite rapidly. "Please?"

"Why?" Alan asked in a fake, surprised tone. His eyes looked over at the clock when he heard her clatter her cup down to her saucer. "It's only been five minutes since we sat. Tell me more. Where are the reapers that are alive then?"

"Some are kept with my Master, others have been sold in the Everto in either whole or pieces. Ever since the Civil War, the Everto had always been a decade behind humans and at least a century behind reapers...we live the old ways, you know? Society and all, it's just that...it's just that..." Samantha trailed off, wandering about in words, as she struggled to speak properly. He took notice of the sudden change but kept his guard up.

She's probably playing Grell. Back when Grell was disguised as Jack the Ripper, he was well known for playing innocent (even around coworkers) until he allowed his true colors to burst forth and kill a certain Baroness. The term 'playing Grell' came from the fact that he was coy to everyone at the time. Alan's foot tapped against the scythe laying on the floor. With a flick of his ankle, he would have sent the handle flying towards his hand and stab Samantha here and there to reveal her Cinematic Records. No, he would wait until he gained a true confession from her. Simply ripping her soul from her memories would be boring and less entertaining. Also, the fact that her death would never let her Master come out from wherever he was in order to capture him made Alan rethink about reaping her soul.

If she were to be a frightened child, prodding into her would be easy. Even if she were to lie, it wouldn't work. He gave her a Truth Serum for his interrogation. Alan spoke in a soft tone,"That what? There's so much to say, I hear you gossip larger than Sutcliff. Why are you so shy all of a sudden? Or are you just-"

She fumbled through her blazer's pockets and took out a pill dispenser. He eyed it curiously and stretched out a hand towards it. "Give me that." Reluctantly, she obeyed. "What is this?" He read the label carefully. "Sable? What is it?"

"It suppresses my anxiety and energy! Master gave it to me so I could f-function properly here!" She answered quickly, her breathes hitched with a short gasp as she began to fidget slightly in her chair. "Without it, reapers would have had my head by n-now! Giv...gi...give it to me! Y-you'll sense it! They'll sense it!" He sighed and gave the medication back to her. If he wanted to have information, he would have to comply to her requests if this were to continue. She popped it open and removed her glasses, settling them down at the table, so that she would count the little pills for her dosage. But her hands trembled and she dropped everything on the table. "N...not now."

He watched her hands dance about, trying to gain a hold of her pills. "Samantha?" Her fingers took two and brought them to her mouth, she swallowed it dry and exhaled slowly. "What makes you afraid?"

"..." Her quiet demeanor returned. Oh, he knew she was fighting the affects of the Serum. "...me? Afraid?...the fact that I'm doing this to gods, I'm afraid of that. I want to laugh at your kind, spit at your shoes, kick you until you lay on the ground if I ever get the chance."

"This? What's this to gods? What makes you want to mock us as much as you could?"

Her lips twitched and she giggled,"You creatures believe you're collecting souls for the good of everyone. You're no different than demons, you just can't eat souls...I find it funny to find those like William T. Spears walking about with a meaningless purpose. It's where you end up when you die is what's hilarious. Master thought it's be good to work with reapers...just working them is what..." She tried to still her tongue but utterly failed, though her hand went under the desk. "...is what he does. He runs things on reapers."

Alan removed his chin, which had developed a red mark, from his hand and was in alert. "Work?" He wasn't alert at her words, but his full attention was on the knife that she suddenly brought up from out of nowhere. Before he could react, she stuck out her tongue and brought the blade to her tongue. With an agonizing cry, she cleanly sliced the pudgy muscle out of her mouth without a second's hesitation. "Damn it!"

He watched as she bled upon his table, the crimson liquid poured like spilled water and spread across the mahogany surface. The pills were pushed aside, falling to the floor, when she pushed herself away from the desk. Her newly severed muscle splattered on to the desk but she took a hold of it. Alan's stomach lurched at the sight of blood; once her hand was in reach, he snatched her wrist and shouted at her while holding down the sickness,"Who was involved in this 'work' in this Division? ! Write it down, even in blood!" He thrust a loose sheet to a dry part of the desk and handed her a pen as he rose from his seat, knocking his chair back.

Instantly, she handled the fountain pen and wrote down who was involved. It was a frenzy as he shouted at her, her medication mingling with the Serum had obscured her rationality and she gave in to the truth since she was writing in blood, just a simple yell would scatter her brain. She wrote slowly, the pain had gotten to her and was affecting her motor skills heavily. "Ahhhh...ahhhh..." She moaned aloud at her self-induced harm as she finished writing. "Huum...huuuhm!"

Her mouth was open stupidly, her jaw swaying while her font and the cuff of Alan's sleeves were stained. She made a clear run for the door and fled, not looking back as Alan sighed. He took a hold of the paper and his scythe before giving chase.

-...-

Undertaker stormed through the building, leaping gracefully from the second floor of the Grand Entrance of the library and landing roughly on the first. Several reapers that he had drawn attention from tried to approach him but immediately withdrew when he flashed an unnatural, almost menacing, smile. A low growl emitted from his throat and they returned to their work, all cringing at the sight of him. His silver hair billowed under his signature top hat, making him have a more ghostly appearance with his deathly pale skin. The scars upon his face contorted with his furious expression; he looked like a rabid animal.

Damn this place. Damn it all to Hell, you freaks. He stormed by a stack of papers and caused them to cascade to the ground, he laughed manically as he saw the reaper managing them scurry to his hands and knees to gather the work.

"Does he have a screw loose?" whispered a woman, she avoided his path to ask a friend, who answered,"He always had...Council claims that's why they retired him. He did the rest on his own."

He glared at the two gossipers and mouths went shut. Talking behind others backs was another thing he couldn't bring himself to tolerate.

When was it the last time he worked in the building as the Officer he was? Fifty years? A century? Something like that. Few were alive to tell what truly happened but for whatever damned reason, many sought to him as an all-mighty mentor and king to. Sure he was a living legend and yet here he is, hating the very people who hold him to the highest regards. He snorted, toppling a cup of coffee, and jostled his way between a group of reapers. They cowered away to give him room.

His boots clacked on the white marble flooring as he excited the Main Hall. Fast strides brought him down the steps and he walked on until a stray worker bumped into him. Slowly, he raised a hand to strike out and done so to the poor worker, sending her to the ground. He glared down and stopped to see Samantha on the floor scrambling to stand up. Within a second, she done so, leaving a pool of blood in her wake. He was ready to turn and leave, uncaring for the blood, until he saw Alan. The sight of him instantly calmed his rage as Alan slowed to a jog.

"Undertaker!" he called, he stopped by him.

It wasn't just Alan who was working on the random string of the appearances of Cinematic Rips, he was simply a pawn used by Undertaker to gain access to various Divisions around Europe. He knew Alan was able to speak many tongues, it wasn't like the mortician forgotten the young one's outings to London, along with various other parts of Europe. With a mind like his, learning a language was a snap for him. There was also another reason why he chose Alan to investigate; he was such a diligent worker for William, none would look at him and ever suspect what his real intentions were.

"It's her!" Alan exclaimed, eyes wide, as Undertaker looked about from him to the blood and to the direction of where Samantha went. "She's the cause of the Rips!"

"Well..." A grin formed on his lips. For once, for the day, things were going in his favor. Apart from having William annoy the shit out of his nerves with common sense and logic, finding a breakthrough in his private investigation was more than enough to brighten his day. "...we should go after her, yes?" Alan nodded, a look of determination upon his face to impress the elder reaper with the promise of capture. "It's been a while since we had a good fox hunt." He chuckled as they took off, sprinting out of the Library and off into the Office District where a trail of blood aided them in their tracking.

-...-

Samantha rounded a corner, barely missing a carriage running her down that was driven by a mad reaper. She panted and relaxed, slamming her back against the wall and leaning into it. She coughed up blood while she fumbled through her blazer once more for her Sable. But then it dawned on her. Shit, I dropped it at the fuck's office. Again, she made ready to run. Master's a madman to have me do this. He knows that the London Division is the most stable out of all...it'll be useless to go one at a time...yeah, it'll be useless if I did that...maybe...maybe if I. No, starting a war between reapers and them won't work out. Shit...kill me now, God.

Her legs shuddered, knees buckled slightly, as she pushed herself to a sprint, but her arm was grabbed and she launched herself forward by accident. She was wretched back, stumbling to the ground, but then was pushed to her feet. She was jerked off to the side and dragged. She wanted to scream but that would have grabbed her pursuers' attentions. Instead, she looked up to see a certain blond reaper with cornrows. Eric? !

"That bastard won't let me keep going if you die, so shut the fuck up and leave," he growled, pulling out a piece of cloth and stuffing it into her mouth to stop the bleeding temporarily. He pushed her to encourage her on. "Move!" She nodded, waving to him in thanks, and began to run once more.

-...-

A pale hand laid on the downy pillow that was one of many that were around Grell as he was propped up once more against the headboard, acting as cushions, he shifted around on the pillows with a whine. His eyelids fluttered open as he glanced about, finding Ronald resting in a bed next to him and William reading over papers. This time, William didn't bother to address him or acknowledge his consciousness, he simply sat there and shuffled through the writings. He murmured to himself, it was way for the supervisor to make mental notes, as Grell coughed for attention.

"Ahem-"

"I know you're awake, Sutcliff," he said, not looking at him,"...is this all that you have to remember?"

Grell rubbed the sleep from his eyes as he was given papers that were scribbled with his handwriting. He took a hold of them and reviewed them briefly after sitting up properly. "This didn't happen last night."

"Apparently it did not. But you failed to mention in detail what really happened to you and Ronald Knox, in fact, him and Undertaker were never there. And I never asked for dreams, I asked for the facts." He crumpled up a piece of parchment and disposed of it in a wastebasket nearby. "The Scarlet drug is said to erase your memory temporarily so after a good rest, the drug would wear off so that you can give a proper report." He swiped away the papers in Grell's hands and gave him his clipboard. Attached to it were a series of forms regarding reflection, analysis, and status of the soul. "Please fill that out...and I want a detailed reflection when you turn it in."

He reached over to the pills and presented them to him. "Does this look familiar to you? It makes me wonder how you, out of all people, had gotten your hands upon this. You do realize it is illegal, correct?" Grell shook his head.

"How am I supposed to know? It never had a label on it! All I know was that it takes the pain away!" Grell whined out. He hated having the regulations and laws thrown at his face, especially after having woken up. "I thought they were just pain killers!"

"They are, they are just banned from use. Honestly, mixing it up with Undertaker's apothecary makes it even worse. Now that you were caught with this, I have to fill out more paperwork and have more overtime for this. Possession of a drug like this can result in another demotion." He found the use of demotions as threats were highly effective against his workers, but he was ready to go farther by droning on and on of other punishments. But before he would open his mouth once more, Grell pointed at the door while dangerously glaring at him.

Two words came from Grell's mouth,"Get out."

William's eyebrow twitched at the sudden defiance. "...excuse...me?"

"Get out!" He demanded more sharply with a snarl. "Get out! I'm...I'm sick of hearing your bullshit. Don't do this or that, what the hell Will? ! I just woke up and you decide to bombard me with shit!" Profanity wasn't Grell's usual feature but he would let it out when needed. "You just can't treat me nicely, can you? Just get out if you can't!"

He was taken aback by the outburst and got up while picking up his extra papers that sat on the bedside table; he adjusted his glasses to perfection and stormed out of the Infirmary, leaving a tearing Grell. The man has no feelings, does he? What a heartless man! He allowed tears to fall as he leaned back into the pillows. The back of his hand wiped his eyes dry as he sniffled. He couldn't help it. Over the years or so, all he heard from William was nothing but stoic comments and meaningless lectures that bored him out from his mind. He would never forget the constant abuse he would receive when he displeased William the most, even by the little things. When he attempted to make it up, however, he would gain a slap on the wrist or face.

Was anything he ever done right? No, not exactly, but they were only accentuated when William pointed them out. What frustrated Grell the most was that William seemed immune to any free emotion and, unfortunately, was the the only one Grell had to cling to in his endless life. He would have picked anyone else to be with but the two were like puppies raised to adults together. They couldn't separate, it had it's ethics at times but was all that they had of one another. But this would bring attention towards Madam Red. A slight thought of his relationship with her was sort of all about the fact that it had color. On the other hand, William was nothing but one shade of black and nothing else., both emotionally and physically.

As he quietly sobbed to himself, he thought of Sebastian. That demon was no different that William, only the relationship was a single shade of black as well, only more malevolent and vicious and came with a harsh beating.

Among his sniffles, his train of thought of the black butler was brought to a sudden halt when he heard Ronald on the other bed shuffle around to face him and point out,"You know, he's not that heartless...he stayed all day in the Infirmary to look after you."


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