A/N: Thiiis is obviously not my best, for I am stumbling out of a sever writers block. I literally have all these plots and stories and ideas piling up in my head, but I would draw a COMPLETE blank every time I tried to write. /sigh/ so that is my measly excuse for this chapter being so late. It's obviously short; it was a bit of a filler before the REAL action kicks in! ;D

Notice: I will soon have an AU Sebaciel fic up! Keep an eye out for it; its a doozy ;)


William stared at the paper clutched in his hand. The next decision would be which manor to go to first. He thought for quite a while, before choosing at random; summoning his death scythe. He repeated the address in his head as he sliced the air in front of him. A rip appeared in the air, much like one in a piece of clothing. Through it you could see the lit windows of a regal mansion. The reaper sighed heavily, stepping through the portal in a flash of blue light.

He arrived at the manor, his feet barely making a sound in the soft grass, as he stalked forward. He paused, thinking about how he would do this. He contemplated for a while, deciding he would pose as a mongrel like him, just to find out if Grell was there. If he was, then William would take the next necessary measures.

Will walked up to the door, dismissing his scythe. He knocked on the heavy wood, unbuttoning his jacket so he didn't look too nice. He waited a few moments before the door swung open, revealing a subdued looking boy, with blue eyes. "Can I help you?" He asked quietly.

"I am looking for the Viscount Druitt." William said, trying his best not to wince. He watched the boy nod, still avoiding Will's eyes.

"He's not here. Is there something I or any of the help can assist you with?" William thought for a moment, gathering his gameplan.

"Yes, actually. I had an appointment with him, just so he could tell me who he has on stock at the moment. I must've come to the wrong manor. Would you be so kind as to letting me know where he is at the moment?" He asked smoothly, his stomach cringing and flipping at the lies he was telling. William T. Spears didn't lie. It was against his morals. But, like he said. He would do anything.

The teenager gave him an address, one that matched the second one on his own paper. He thanked the poor kid, stepping into the expanse of trees before he opened the next portal.

I'm almost there, Grell.


Grell had no water in his body; he could not cry anymore. His body racked with sobs that could not appear. The tears wouldn't come. The Viscount had just left. It was a record; he had been to 'see' Grell seven times today. The redhead's body ached. He had hundreds of red welts across his body, where the blonde's whip had deemed him worthy. His bum felt like something was ripping it apart from the inside. He groaned as he accidentally brushed it against the wall.

His body shook, unable to stop. He thought he was cold, but he couldn't be sure. His body had stopped reacting to things; he was growing numb to even the biggest things. He could no longer feel his hands or feet, and he wasn't hungry. Cristian hadn't come with food for the entire day, but his body didn't want food. He wasn't thirsty, and Grell knew that wasn't a good thing.

Grell missed the boy. He hadn't realized how much his will to survive had depended on Cristan. He had spent the time between sessions dreaming of their future lives together. William would come save him and Cristian, and they would adopt him, buying a large house. In a few years, William could finally retire. They would love the boy more than anything. As he thought these things, though, uncertainty and negative thoughts hammered him.

The reaper knew that it was a load of bullshit. William wouldn't come save him; though he couldn't understand why. Cristian would leave him here to die, and he would suffer a painful death at the hand of Aleister Chambers.

The redhead shook his head sharply, using his last bit of energy. He couldn't think things like that. It wouldn't help him get out of here any faster.

I want to die


William stepped through the portal, closing it behind him. He was standing before a more modest mansion, one that looked very, very old. The corners of his mouth turned up, out of mere anxiety. He braced himself, taking a deep and shaky breath as he put one foot in front of the other. He arrived eventually at the door, and he raised a slightly shaking hand to the knocker, clearing his throat, as footsteps answered him on the other side.


Cristian had been sitting in the window of the kitchen, smoking. He knew how to swipe things from people. It was how he had met Master Chambers. He saw movement in the corner of his eye, his head jerking in that direction. A flash of blue light appeared, and a man emerged from the fog, adjusting his glasses, and somehow, Cristian knew exactly who he was. He smirked, pushing himself into the kitchen, and walking towards the door.

Checkmate.