From an aerial view Undertaker and William tried to spot out the blonde haired reaper named Ronald Knox but to no avail, it seemed they could not find him. They searched far and wide for him but there was no sign of him anywhere to be seen. The frustration was starting to get evident on William's usually unreadable face and usually he never got too angry, but this one singular thing was obviously getting on his nerves.

"Perhaps we should take a break?" Undertaker offered, eyeing his successor and speaking as softly as he could.

"No, let's continue."

"Lad, we aren't like demons you know, we need to sleep."

"I know that!" William barked, one of his combed back hairs flying into his face. As of now he looked so unlike himself it was almost frightening. Undertaker chuckled a bit to himself seeing his William, the straight faced business man, all riled up.

"My little poppet, you should see your face. You care a lot for Ronald, yes?"

"He's my pupil, as I said. I'm frustrated because he always runs away. He's so disrespectful of others, I was never like that."

"Not everyone attaches to the rules like you do, luv. Besides, can't you tell? He doesn't take well to authority; he wants to set his own rules, and he's got a really bad mistrust of people. At first look I thought he was an excitable young man who smoked a lot and thought little, partied all night and worked sloppily, but now that I've gotten to know him better I find him intriguing. He is no genius but he does think deeply, not rationally mind you, but deeply, and he feels for things in a special way. Grell is his only friend, the only color in his life, the only thing he can trust and perhaps love. I can surely sympathize with that," Undertaker explained, in the sweetest of voices as if remembering something fond to him.

"Be that as it may," William interjected, looking over the man he looked up to all his life, "I would not go chasing after a mad reaper like that, no matter how much I cared."

"Why do you expect everyone to be like you? We are all different from each other, we see things in a different light, and we work differently, talk differently, and look different too. You are prim and proper, I am…avant-garde and…hmm, strange is the word for it. Ronald is a power house of energy and spastic partying, but is also friendly, outgoing, charming, boisterous, loud, a tad full of himself, but a good hearted person. Just look at what he's going through to save the life of someone he obviously holds close. I would do the same, if I were him, hell I'd do it now. You wouldn't and that makes you different. Nothing wrong with being different."

William looked on toward the horizon and the rising sun greeting the sky with his mind racing. All he wanted was order, not chaos, and all he ever got was disaster. He desired everyone to be like him because that's how he was taught and how he thought it should be. All books in order, all paper work filed, all souls collected neatly, and all suits pressed and firm. Without order the world crumbles into nothingness and that is why the humans often found themselves in such trouble. Still, he had a respect and admiration for humans and in some manner was their savior. He, as with all reapers, protected them against the dangers of demons and sent them on their paths.

He could not hate Ronald for being himself; he might as well hate the sky for not being green. He could try as he might but you can lead a horse to water but you can't make it drink. In the same respect he could try to mold Ronald or Grell all he wanted but they would still be themselves and there was nothing he could do about it. In some way he didn't want them to change and he realized that now. If Grell cut his hair, combed it straight, and wore an appropriate suit then would William like him more? No, that just wasn't it. First things first, his job did not require him to like you; it was not about liking you. Second thing was, in truth, Grell's diversity was something to almost marvel at.

Grell Sutcliff tried to be a dash of red lightning across a black sky; he was the loudest of the reapers, and the most flirtatious. If Grell was more like William then, yes, it would make life easier on the man, but in all honesty, William would not really like it that much. It would just be another useless clone. The more he tried to douse out the flaming man the more he grew hotter and hotter. There just wasn't any point to all of it. Undertaker patted his back before giving him a sideways hug that William instantly grew flustered to. This was the one person he could not simply tell no and shove away. This was his idol and in some respects, his very reason for living and working.

"You look so cute right now, lad, I could just eat you up!"

"Please stop that, Mr. Undertaker. It's really not kosher."

"Oh, pish-posh, luv. Enough with the formalities. How about a nickname? You can call me Unnie, if you like."

"I'd rather not."

"Well then, sonny boy," Undertaker smilingly said, still holding William in his arm, "How about…dad?"

William looked up at him, his eyes softening. As reapers they never had fathers, mothers, siblings, or any of that family mess. They were just born into reaper hood without any recollection of the lives they had before. To have any family at all would be most unorthodox. Reapers did get married and had children but they had no predecessors as they are not born to a mother and father. William, a man of great principle, found no time for others and usually stayed in the solitude of his home, filing away, and stamping folders.

No one cared to notice the dark circles around his eyes, no one cared to notice how he yawned all the time, no one cared to notice how he drank so much coffee or how surly he could be in the wee bits of afternoon. These same people never knew he practically lived in his office and stayed there from dawn until dusk, and they never knew how long he stayed putting all the books away in the library, or how he stayed up many nights just to give advice to young reapers, or how he was so stressed and wound up that the knots in his back had knots. No one dared to ask how he got up every day, combed his hair, ironed his suit, bleached his socks, shined his shoes, starched his shirt, sanitized his workspace, washed his gloves, and sharpened his reaper's staff every day while still juggling around all the work he had to do.

Yet here was one person who knew just how hard he truly worked, just how much he appreciated the status quo of the reaper way, just how much he adhered to the many rules and regulations, just how physically exhausted he was being the man he had to be, just how many young reapers and reapettes came to his doorstep asking for help, and just how many sleepless nights he went on reading, studying, and applying himself to be better.

Undertaker, both a hard working man and laid back at the same time, knew what it took to be as good of a reaper as William was. It was a stressful job and didn't help when being weighted on by restrictions and policy. Now Undertaker found a job that suited his work hours and fancy just fine, something he wholly enjoyed but looking back he could still recall all the good times he had. William, though, had no time for pleasant memories. This is why Undertaker wanted him to ease down, if only for a bit, before he blew a fuse. Even a well oiled engine can die sometimes. The mortician felt a heavy sigh fall on his chest and then another, as if William was breathing him in. Undertaker knew, he knew how difficult his life must be more than William did as he knew more about William than the lad himself knew. After all, William didn't know this, but he wasn't even a full reaper.

He was half human too.

Only Undertaker knew this and since William would never pry into his own file he would never see that his mother was a human and his father was a reaper. Just like the story of Will the Reaper that young man had written. Almost like Grell's story. It ended the same way, tragically, as his mother had passed on. His father, though, continued on as a reaper. Only Undertaker knew who his father was but he thought he'd spare William the shocking news. It would devastate him. All the funeral director knew was that in the entire history of reapers, William was the only one to ever be part human.

"Maybe we should take a rest after all," William concluded, looking into the very special eyes that Undertaker had as he did not need glasses to see as everyone else did.

"That's the smartest thing you've said thus far. If you want you can go rest and I'll look for him. I have no trouble with staying up for long periods of the day and while I'm sure you can agree that you too can do the same, my job requires me to be up at all hours of the day. You never know when someone will die, teehee."

"I understand. You certainly are not the reaper I expected when I first heard about you."

"Oh?" Undertaker asked with a grin, tilting his head and yet his hat stayed perfectly still.

"I thought you were going to be much taller with a respectable hairstyle and glowing like a god. I was a foolish youngster at the time, I knew no better. I am glad you are the way you are."

"Why thank you lad. I'm fond of my overall appearance and outlook on life. Now, you go take a snooze. Leave the hard work to someone else this time."

"I suppose you are right. Your knowledge of life far exceeds my own. I hope you don't mind that I will be doing some major cleaning up in that thing you call a bedroom."

"Teehee. Not at all dear boy just don't move around my articles too much. I have a sort of feng shui going on there."

"It just needs dusting, I won't move anything," William replied, walking off with his reaper tool on his shoulders. He stopped midstep to turn around and say, "Oh yes, and Undertaker."

"Yes, Will?"

"What grows bigger the more you give it to people?"

"I haven't the foggiest," Undertaker truthfully replied, tapping his fingernails on his lip.

William looked into Undertaker's eyes with the most full blown emotion he could, showing all his feelings toward the silver-haired shinigami before replying, simply, but warmly, "Your heart."

Undertaker sighed happily, smiling just as kindly as he could, before giggling at the joke that only a child could come up with but fully appreciating the fact that William, his protégée, the stiff-upper-lipped reaper, had made a joke. Before Undertaker could reply back he noticed that William he left, most likely wanting to leave before he said anything else out of character.

Undertaker just lifted his head to the sky and let the sun warm his face before continuing on his mission to find Ronald and bring him back in one piece. Such a task would be easy as reapers usually know where other reapers will be but Undertaker was rusty at this and Ronald was a tricky fox.

Somewhere in the alleys was Ronald himself, desperately hanging onto his arm, panting and looking for something, anything, that could patch it up quick. He was definitely not a good seamster and knew close to nothing about the human anatomy. He groaned as he felt his arm separating from his shoulder and blood leaking from his neck and shoulder wounds that were ripping open. The crimson liquid was staining the front of his pure white shirt making him looked like a red breasted bird.

"Damnit all! This is NOT how I want to be going out! Look at me, dirty, sweaty, smelly, and all bloody. All for you Grell! Are you happy? ARE YOU FUCKING HAPPY?!"

"Are you going mad too? You must be because you're talking to yourself," A voice questioned in the darkness of the alleys.

"Who the hell are you?" Ronald growled out, not in the mood or in any position to be fighting especially without his reaper tool.

"Don't be so jumpy, I won't hurt you lad."

"Undertaker?"

"In the flesh," He laughingly replied, tipping his hat as he appeared from the shadows.

"Leave me alone, man! I can handle myself!"

"It doesn't appear that way to me," Undertaker analyzed, looking at Ronald's arm about to fall right off.

"I got this. Just…just go…okay?"

"Ronald, at the very least let me fix you up. William would be very upset if you lost a limb."

"No way! Back off! I could take you, even right now!"

"Listen you little immature excuse for a reaper, I am at least one hundred old, I've seen life and I know what there is to do. You are, what, about twenty-some years old? Please, don't make me laugh…not this time. Look, I know what you are trying to do and it's a noble cause. I appreciate the effort, but right now you just aren't in any shape to be taking on anyone. If you want to keep talking big like you're worth even a fraction of the effort it would take on my part to snap you in half, then go on. Come at me. If you win, I'll let you go, but if you lose, which you will, then you are staying your ass in my shop. Deal?"

"Yeah…whatever."

"Alright. One, two, three, go!"

Before Ronald could even blink he was out like a light. One good solid whack was all it took. Undertaker crouched beside him, feeling his pulse to make sure he hadn't killed the poor boy. After he was sure he was still alive, Undertaker quickly wrapped up his arm with a bit of cloth and carried Ronald back to his shop before the young reaper lost anymore blood than he already had.

"Oh Ronnie, Ronald, Ron, you are a stubborn thing. I can fully admire that in you. You're like a bull that's seen red and must chase after it no matter what."

Undertaker was saying all this with a sigh as he had finally gotten Ronald onto his operating table once more, unclothed except for his undergarment, and was now wiping antiseptic on his wounds. After the wounds were thoroughly cleaned of debris he put on a pair of rusted up, nearly chipped glasses. They were the same ones he used back when he was a reaper and because he was so legendary no one dared confiscate them or his reaping tool. With the utmost concentration he lovingly, carefully, and rather easily stitched Ronald's arm back together. After all his lovely stitch work was done he bandaged the boy's arm and wiped him off with a cloth.

"Hmm…you are young. When you sleep you look almost like a teenager," Undertaker noted, touching Ronald's forehead, "Really, now, must you always be so rambunctious? We know how much you care and if you were well enough we'd let you join, but you aren't. Grell will destroy you if she has the chance and I know you don't see it just yet but she is not herself anymore. Grell is a delicate thing who needs delicate attention, something you could not give her. You and the others are all about brute force. It isn't as easy as all that. That precious little starlet needs undivided attention and love, someone who understands her. You are a great friend, really you are, but she needs more than that."

Though unconscious by all terms Ronald could still hear Undertaker and as he slept away the words made sense. He was so busy trying to help Grell that he didn't care what Grell really needed. Some friend he was. Grell would not take to someone like he who was very rough around the edges; someone wise like Undertaker was a much better choice.

Undertaker could rationalize and be on par with Grell. Someone as mad as he was could be extremely logical and well thought out. Someone as creepy as he could be was also the kindest and sweetest of people one could ever meet. He sympathized, he felt wounded, and he could emote empathy like no other because he had been there and done that. Ronald, what did he know about love and life? Nothing in comparison to Undertaker.

It was then that Ronald Q. Knox, the next reaper to die for, laying on the icy metal of the operating table all stitched up, made a change. He would no longer be the mulish hard-head that he always was. He could still care and feel for Grell in the brotherly way he did, but he could not keep going like this or else he would get killed. So starting now he would try harder to listen to people. Why? Because he, like William, wanted to be like his newfound idol: Undertaker.