Sebastian could barely stand; he stood unevenly on his feet, and felt as if he might collapse. He gingerly touched the gaping wound in his chest, and through his blurred vision he saw his hand come away red and dripping. He could hardly see, much less think – he could only register this agonizing pain – it had been a long time since he had felt anything like it, the only thing that he could even vaguely compare this extraordinary pain to, (that he could remember) was the time Grell had cut at his chest with his death-scythe. That was nearly a year ago, now Grell stood before him, he didn't know and didn't care for his views on what was happening now. Without the strength to maintain his human form, Sebastian began to revert to his true, demonic self. It required unwavering concentration to preserve the pretty face and body of a mortal, and now that concentration was broken. Sebastian roared, but it was unnecessary, because Grell had already attacked.
In his current state, Sebastian's image of the world was distorted, and all that he could make out was that both Grell and their common enemy fell to the ground – he also saw in his final moments of consciousness, Grell attempt to stand, but then fall. Before he could even try and comprehend why, Sebastian too, collapsed. Sebastian had been hurting too badly to know for certain if the demon had died, and Grell had fainted after his attack, so both unknowing and unconscious the enemy slowly lifted himself from the floor to a sitting position. He had most certainly not been expecting that – he had never encountered a human who had made such a powerful impact on him before – well, there was always a first time for everything. The demon made to stand up, but as he did, he noticed that a beautiful head full of exotic, red hair was resting on his lap. He reached out a clawed hand and twisted those long locks around his fingers and pulled Grell's pretty, pale face to his own angular one. It was apparent, if you were to ask the demon, that Sebastian had some kind of affair with this human – it was probably his dog – and that connection disgusted him. Even if he kept it, only as his pet, demons should never make any contact with a human outside of a contract. That was the way it had always been.
So he stood to his feet, with Grell now over his shoulder like some kind of luggage, and looked the room over for Sebastian. He saw him face-down in a pool of his own blood, he was still breathing, but he was going to need a reasonable length of time to recover from that attack. He left the doctor's lounge and walked out into the cold, night air. He felt his new prisoner stir and moan in his unconscious state, and wrap his frail arms around his body tighter. In the conflict, Grell had left his coat, his glasses, and his doll behind. The demon was disgusted; he felt a bout of nausea as he realised that this pathetic creature was making physical contact with him. Perhaps though, negotiations with his rival would be possible if he had his lover captive. As the demon prepared to leave, he was curious as to why if that disgrace felt he needed a human, why he couldn't have chosen a more attractive one. To be honest, this one was very ugly.
...
It had been an hour, almost two, when Sebastian finally regained consciousness. Although the injury he had sustained previously had hardly healed over, he was quick to stand to his feet. If he had been unconscious, then anything could have happened and he wouldn't have been able to interfere. With a swift examination of the room, he found items of importance – his own coat, Grell's coat (glasses and doll), and the young master's medicine – his coat was important because it had been an expensive gift from the master and it was cold outside, Grell's coat was important because Grell would never go anywhere without it, especially in winter, and that could only mean that he had been kidnapped by the demon – who, Sebastian figured – since his corpse wasn't here, had still been alive. And of course, the master's medicine was the most important of all of these objects, because the master had requested it, and he was late in returning it. It was already 9:00 PM.
...
The demon was well-hidden in an abandoned warehouse many, many miles from London. He had been in England for months now, undetected, killing and devouring the souls of those who lived in the countryside as the gluttonous beast he was. It had taken him a duration of two hours for him to travel to this well hidden place. The shinigami he had kidnapped had been fidgeting and moaning all of the way here, and he was just about sick of it. He opened the rusted doors to the dark, infested warehouse and tossed Grell carelessly aside in a pile of filthy hay. To ensure that he didn't escape once he was awake, he locked Grell's delicate wrists in tight, rusted shackles that were connected to a metal wall. It was 9:00 PM and still very cold, even colder than it was in London, a snowstorm was active outside and the icy wind blew in from the cracks in the walls and brushed over Grell's body, which was covered only by thin clothing and coated in dry, caked blood. After the demon had secured Grell's restraints, he relaxed in a wooden chair before a fire he had started. He had killed the owners of a beautiful manor not too far from this warehouse, and had told anyone who asked that he was their son, and had inherited it from the elderly couple after their deaths. But, so that they would be harder to find, he had decided that they would stay here. They would have been too easy to find if they had been in that luxurious house.
Grell would have stayed unconscious longer, but a strong sense of discomfort was disrupting him. There was a filthy odour that never seemed to dissipate, and a rough substance that continued to irritate his skin as the bitter wind bit at him. He also felt as though his wrists were weighed down by something, and Sebastian's blood, which had dried on his skin and in his hair, made him feel extremely dirty and uncomfortable.
Grell breathed deeply, feeling the chilly air drift into his lungs. He slowly lifted his heavy eyelids about halfway, revealing his unique golden-green eye colour. His vision was blurred, but he could still make out his surroundings without his glasses. He was in an unfamiliar, unpleasant looking place; the first thing he noticed though, was that his wrists were in shackles, which only meant one thing that seemed quite likely after he had fainted - the demon was still alive, and had some wicked plan that involved him. The rough substance he had sensed earlier could be none other than the scratchy, dirty, hay that surrounded him now. Grell was thirsty, and famished. Actually, he hadn't eaten anything since this morning; he had skipped his lunch break just to make sure he had enough money to buy his Madame Missy doll that was now left behind in the doctor's lounge. His coat was left there too, which wasn't helping with how unpleasantly cold he was right now.
Being reminded of how he was freezing to death, he saw a blur of yellow and red which resembled fire – fire was warm. Grell scooted toward the source of heat that he so longed for, the shackles were slowing him down, making it hard to lift his wrists very high with them being attached to such heavy chains. But once he got closer, he acknowledged the wooden chair that was set in front of the fire place. The demon, of course, was sitting in it - why else would there be a fire in here anyway? Grell looked down at his hands, which were a pure white blur - he was much paler than usual because he was so cold. There was also a soft glow that bordered his body - this must have meant he was still gathering will-power. This wasn't good, because he was significantly weakened by this.
He decided not to move back, not that he intended to ever return to that disturbing hay pile, it would cause too much of a disruption. He had already made too much noise to begin with by moving over here, and he would rather not be noticed so that the demon could continue to think he was unconscious. Who knows what he would do if he figured out that he was awake? Suddenly, another gust of wind burst into the shed and wrapped its icy fingers around his thin frame - causing him to shiver awkwardly.
Grell whimpered out of pure misery, with his defences low, this situation was affecting him more than usual. He looked over in the direction of his abductor, hoping that he hadn't heard him - he wasn't all too far away since Grell had scooted closer. If the circumstances were a bit different (for example- if he was trapped in a tall tower surrounded by lava and a guardian dragon) he could pretend to play princess. But still, he wondered who his knight in shining armour would be? Grell knew that he was precious enough to be saved, hopefully by Sebastian, and not William of course.