A/N: Alrighty, guys, let's get through this quickly, 'cause I've got a few points to get though. Firstly, sissy has finally uploaded one of her sketches of Michelle (although there are a lot of things about it neither of us like) and what you do is you copy in the adress in bold and you take out the spaces, but I'm sure you already know that:

sta . sh /01rt9uxdbx1r

Next on the list of things to say, I'm looking for a new horse for my birthday (next Friday if anyone cares, there maybe be a special chapter as a present to me) and I need to narrow down my short list, so while I will try to keep updating pretty much daily, it might slip a little, so I'm sorry if it does. Next, this chapter came from a challenge from my sister. There is over half the chapter with no dialogue at all, just to prove I could. Oh yeah, and a shorter chapter today because you all know what's coming next chapter, don't you? Look forward to it. So, big hugs to everyone who reviewed and will review this chapter. I love you guys.

Ronald shuddered, his stomach churning, as his fingers ghosted over the ugly gash stitched together up William's side. Someone had ripped a death scythe right up his side, like they were trying to tear him in half. He hadn't asked about internal injuries, he didn't want to know. The stitches and bruises looked bad enough. He felt absolutely sick.

It was common knowledge a death scythe could cut through anything except another scythe. In the hands of a capable reaper it was possible to cut through a human so easily that the soul could be removed without leaving a scratch and there would be no pain or suffering. It would be as if they'd died peacefully in their sleep. Of course, that technique was advanced and difficult to master. Everyone was taught the theory of how to do it in the academy but very few could do it properly. Eric could. He was one of the best. That's why his soul collecting had taken so long to be noticed; usually the start their cinematic record would appear on their own and the reapers would only have to judge them, cut them, and collect the soul. Sometimes the record needed a little more encouragement to show itself entirely and sometimes, if the human's will to live was strong enough, they had to actually hit the victim with their scythe to get the record to show even a little.

The point was whoever had attacked William wanted to scar him for life. If he'd just wanted to kill him, they'd have removed his soul and cut his record. Whoever had done this wanted to let William bleed and suffer. Ronald's fingers brushed the stitches across his chest, over William's heart in a jagged zigzagging motion, like someone had stabbed in a blade and torn it back and forth. How had no one noticed all this? Hadn't William fought back? Hadn't there been any noise? He sighed and shifted onto the bed, curling up at William's side and taking his hand, possibly the only part of him without any injuries, slowly wrapping his other arm around his neck and gently tangled his fingers into his hair, being incredibly careful not to knock any of the stitches. Some of the wounds would heal perfectly, some would leave scars. Ronald knew from experience that even when a scar from a death scythe looked fully healed over, there was often still healing required beneath the skin and they could be painful for months afterwards.

He didn't want to know what other injuries William had beneath the surface. Just from what he could see, Ronald knew there had to be other wounds. Death scythes could cut through anything, it would take a lot of control to simply break the skin and not hit anything else. Their blades could tear through muscle, bones and organs as easily as paper. William could have broken his ribs, the wound over his heart could have actually hit his heart...

He whimpered and snuggled up against him, stretching up and pressing a gentle kiss to William's bruised cheek. Whoever had done this was going to pay. Just as soon as he was sure William was going to be ok, as soon as he woke up, he'd find whoever did this and tear them apart. He'd rip open whoever did this just like they ripped up William.

William gasped, his eyes snapped open and doubling over so fast Ronald couldn't stop a yelp tearing from his lips as he stumble from the bed, trying to help William lie down again before he hurt him anymore. He coughed and gasped for air, through sounding raw and there was a horrendous watery sound, almost like when someone was drowning and struggling to breath. He coughed hoarsely and Ronald's eyes widened further. He was coughing up blood. The nurses must have noticed the commotion. Moments after William began coughing a team of doctors and nurses rushed, all talking over each other and pushing Ronald out again.

A pair of arms wrapped around him and Ronald realised he'd somehow slipped down the wall and was practically sitting on the floor. He glanced up at Grell, who smiled gently, helping him back to his feet. Ronald swallowed heavily and brushed a few tears from his eyes. His vision was blurring and there was a tight lump in his throat. Grell smiled and stroked his checks gently. He was saying something. Ronald couldn't hear him though. He couldn't really hear anything, it was all just a buzz. He just wanted to get back to William's side. He had to get back to him and find out what was happening. Before he could really register what was happening, Grell had put Grim wrapped up in a blanket into his arms. Ronald blinked down at him and Grell returned the look. What had Grell said? He stared up at Grell for an explanation and the redhead sighed and wrapped his arm around his shoulder, guiding him away.

Ronald dug in his heels and tried to squirm out of Grell's arms. He wanted to get back to William. He had to get back to William's side. He had to make sure he was ok, to make sure he was there if William was awake, if he wanted him there. Grell kept a firm hold of him though, and while Ronald knew he could overpower Grell, he didn't think he could think well enough to do so. So he just hugged Grim close and let himself be pulled home.

Everyone was staring at him when Grell pulled him in. Alan dropped the journal he was reading and ran over, demanding to know what had happened. The other three just stared at him, like they were expecting him to say something. He turned to put on a smile for them but knew he was failing miserably by the look on Alan's face. He stepped away from the others and turned to the spare bathroom, falling to his knees by the bath and running a few inches of warm water before gently setting Grim down, holding him by the scruff of the neck as he washed off the blood.

William's blood...

Grim had seen everything. He'd seen who had done that to William and everyone suspected he'd somehow got out and into Michelle's apartment and see what had happened to her. It was too much of a coincidence that Michelle had ended up in that mess and Grim would be covered in blood the same day. Grim had seen who hurt William and Michelle and they couldn't even read his record for proof!

Grim yowled and Ronald jumped. He glanced down realising he'd been holding Grim far too tightly- he was only tiny after all- and had almost drowned him by accidently pressing him down so his nose fell under the water. He swallowed heavily and pushed his glasses up, brushing away a few tears before letting them drop back down again. Grim stared up at him, blinking up at him in confusion, silently begging to be forgiven for whatever he'd done. Of course he didn't understand he was just frustrated and upset and... He sighed and gently rubbed in the shampoo. Grim seemed to be getting used to being bathed now, he was standing there, looking unimpressed but putting up with it as Ronald murmured something. He wasn't sure it made anything sense, or was anything more than a sting of noises, but it was his way of trying to apologising and Grim seemed happy with it.

The others were talking on the other side of the bathroom door, their voices dull and distant, muffled through the door and... well, everything else. Ronald shuddered at the thought and washed off the shampoos quickly before picking him up and wrapping him in the fluffy white towel, letting the bloody water drain away. He hugged Grim close to his chest, slowly rubbing him dry as the kitten closed his eyes and began to doe the towel against his arm, purring quietly. Only now did he realise he'd got absolutely soaked in the process of washing Grim. Still, it wasn't really important. It was nothing compared to what William was suffering through.

He struggled to his feet and took Grim out into the open living area. Everyone fell silent when he came out. Alan was hanging onto Eric's arm, watching nervously, as if he pitied him. Peter looked completely uninterested and was just observing him quietly. Mark and Grell looked at least concerned and Eric was just watching him with an almost unreadable look, but Ronald knew he was possibly more worried than anyone else. Grim made a strange purring noise and Ronald strode passed them, kicking the bedroom door closed behind him. He slumped on the bed and Grim mewl, patting his chest with his tiny paw. Ronald frowned and gently took his paw in his hand, stroking the damp, fluffy fur as the kitten gazed up at him, looking almost like he understood he was in pain.

Alan was calling through the door but everything was just so blurred. He wasn't sure how long it was before he decided what he had to do. He set Grim down on the bed, patting his head gently as he got up, and threw open the wardrobe. He was nowhere near tall enough to reach the top shelf, even William had to stretch of would use his scythe and it was normally only boxes and old bags and suitcases kept up there. Ronald knew what he was after though. William had shown it to him once and he'd been absolutely fascinated. After a moment of a patting around Ronald found the small wooden box he was after.

Inside was a black pistol with a few decorative silver lines, a lot like William's glasses. Ronald smiled slowly. Technically, it was William's second death scythe. The pistol and bullets were made of the same material as their scythes and William had told him it had taken him four years of paperwork and forms to get clearance for it. Death scythes shaped as guns weren't unheard of, but they were rare. William was one of the best marksmen Ronald had ever seen though, he had to be to use his scythe the way he did.

He picked stripped himself of the soaked clothes and sought out clean, dry and, importantly, warm clothes. Ronald hard purposefully moved the wardrobe when he moved in. William hadn't understood at first, but the next morning, when the heater had provided them with warm uniforms for the work that day. He wrapped his arms around himself, letting the warm fabric of one of William's plain, long sleeved t-shirts. It was a little big for him length wise but they were pretty much the same width. There was something reassuring about wearing William's things. William was hit and miss about it. Sometimes he complained, sometimes he said he thought they looked good on him. Ronald almost smiled at the thought, a few new tears springing to his eyes which he brushed away just as quickly, pulling on a new pair of jeans and a jacket.

Alan must have heard the noise because he'd given up trying to talk through the door and had just come in instead. At least, he'd assumed it was Alan. However, when he turned he found Eric leaning against the door, watching him in a strange, curious way. Ronald swallowed and turned away, shutting up the wardrobe and turning to the bed once more. Grim was watching Eric, tail twitching slightly. What was wrong with him now? There was still that slightly blurred buzzing in his head, blocking out whatever Eric was saying to nothing more than a dull noise. He glanced at the gun in the box and Eric was suddenly behind him, smirking cruelly. The older reaper picked it up and loaded it for him, sounding like he was lecturing him on being careful with it and not shooting himself. Well, Eric did look like the type who would know about guns and it was probably something the Midnight Branch taught.

Still, Ronald snatched the pistol from him and shot him a cold glare. He didn't know why. He trusted Eric, he had always trusted Eric more than anyone, but it was William's. He didn't want anyone touching it.

"Ron?"

"There's one demon left," Ronald said, finally finding his voice and even surprising himself with the seething anger it held. Eric frowned. "Michelle was involved with three demons. Two are dead, one lied to us when we asked about what he knew about Michelle's attack and I know he was involved with my attack back then, somehow. I don't know how, but I know there's something about him..." He clenched his fists then shook his head slowly, slipping the pistol into an inside pocket. It was a little dangerous if he was careless, but he didn't plan on it. "Alan can watch over William and Michelle for us."

"Why can't he come?" Eric said, folding his arms. "You know he wants to know who did this just as much as anyone."

"Alan doesn't approve of torture. Remember how long it took you to get forgiven for what you and Grell did to Christopher?"

"You heard about that?"

"I saw it, I was there." He smiled and headed out the room, Grim following on their heels with the towel still over his head. Again, everyone fell into that awkward silence. "We need to go, Grell."

"Where?" Grell said, getting up quickly.

"Ronald, are you ok?" Alan said quietly.

"Yeah, I'm getting there," Ronald replied. "Will you watch William and Michelle for me, Al?" He frowned, but nodded. "And can you two stay here and watch Grim for me?"

"Sure," Mark said but Peter glared down at Grim who hissed back from under the towel. "What's going on?"

"There's just something we need to do," Eric said. "You wouldn't like it."

Alan frowned, probably knowing what they were going to do but didn't say anything. After a moment waiting for protest, Eric opened a porthole and the trio stepped through into London. Ronald wasn't sure where to go but Eric seemed to know, striding off down the street through the crowds, so Ronald and Grell followed. He glanced up at Grell. The redhead was grinning, and not in a reassuring way, with a nasty glint in his eyes. He finally had a target, there was going to be blood. He'd seen what Eric and Grell could do when they were pissed off. A demon named Christopher had been involved in his attack, and had been a bit touchy for Ronald's liking, so Grell and Eric, along with Michelle, had tortured and executed him. Michelle had beheaded him actually. And he suspected there were several other disappearances they were probably responsible for. Although, if Ronald was honest, he didn't really care. If Daniel had anything to do with what happened to William then he would fight off Grell for the killing blow.