Title: Predator

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the known Characters.

Warning: This story has graphic sexual encounters. Please keep that in mind when reading. This has no connection whatsoever to Heat. Aftermath of rape in this chapter!

Genre: AU, Rape, Violence, Hurt/Comfort, Angst

Pairings: Claude x Sebastian, Eric/Alan, Undertaker/Grell

Chapter 4.

As Grell Sutcliff watched the hand with the newly elongnated nails rise up to strike him, he briefly wondered what death would feel like. He was unable to feel very much right now because of the venom that had paralyzed his body, keeping some of the physical pain of his violation from being felt. It was a rather small mercy for Grell, for what little he could feel hurt, but the weakened Reaper knew with certainty that the 'mercy' was not intentional.

The Demon had not cared about his tears, the salty liquid that had trickled to the ground as he was raped. His whimpers had been completely ignored while the Demon thrust brutally into Grell while he lay helplessly upon the ground. There was no possibility that the lack of being able to feel most of it had been for Grell's benefit; it was simply a side effect of the venom that had rendered him unable to move.

Inwardly bracing himself for the blow, Grell's eyes were closed, his right cheek pressed against the cold ground. Involuntary tears dripped onto the ground as he mentally tried to prepare to die. When the blow never came, Grell struggled mentally, managing to crack his eyes open a tiny bit to see what had happened.

Standing over the prone form, a very familiar male with black clothing and long silver hair was holding the arm back. Undertaker's eyes were actually visible for once, his hair brushed back away from them. His lips set in a firm line, the legendary Shinigami could not bring himself to look directly at his lover, knowing that if he did, he'd lose focus on the Demon. What little he had seen had been enough.

It was a horrific sight, one that Undertaker would remember always, but before he could help Grell, he had to get rid of the Demon. If only he'd felt the Demonic surge of energy earlier; he'd come here as quickly as possible but it had been too late. If he'd been with Grell, he would have stopped the Demon in his tracks. No one and nothing was ever allowed to hurt someone that Undertaker loved and get away with it. This Demon would die for what he'd done.

Sensing a great deal of power coming from this Reaper, the Demon was momentarily surprised. That look being directed at him; this one was not someone to take lightly. A seasoned warrior hidden beneath an unsuspecting exterior, the scars telling a silent story to the now wary Demon. He did not move just yet, taking a silent measure of the male before him. Cold anger radiated like an aura, the narrowing of green eyes before he struck.

Unlike the younger Reapers, the retired Shinigami was able to pull out his Death Scythe while moving swiftly, as fast as the Demon himself did. Unhindered by his hair or his lack of glasses, Undertaker stepped with the Demon when he moved aside to dodge, swinging the blade around and cutting across his back. It was not enough to release the creature's cinematic record but the howl that escaped the Demon's mouth proved that the deep wound had hurt.

Faced with the realization that he was, indeed, facing a Shinigami of great skill, the Demon hissed, blood flowing from his back as he lunged at the Reaper. Claws struck the Scythe, before the two began exchanging a series of attacks. Unlike the Demons that Undertaker knew of, this one did not use silverware as a means of attack, preferring to fight physically instead.

He was strong and he was fast, and even Undertaker found himself just able to keep up with the Demon. His first cut was not the last, but neither did he manage to get the Demon beyond surface wounds again. At the same time, however, the silver-haired Shinigami did keep himself from being carved up in turn. Blood trickled from small slashes on his arms and one upon his cheek, but Undertaker was relentless. He didn't even consider giving up, prepared to fight to the death if need be.

Perhaps determination alone would have given him the victory, but Undertaker never got the chance to find out. As he carved a wound across the Demon's arm, the air around them suddenly shifted as another Grim Reaper materialized. The two opponents turned their heads to face the newcomer, momentarily paused in their battle, black claws pressed against gleaming metal. Distracted and narrowing his eyes at who he saw standing there, Undertaker hissed softly when something sharp penetrated his wrist.

Lashing out, he struck with his scythe; if the Demon hadn't moved, he would have lost his head. Fresh blood splattered from his mouth as the Demon grinned ferally. Taste alone was exquisite but this Reaper could not be preyed upon. He was good, very good, and this other that had appeared had his Death Scythe out as well. Knowing better than to continue this altercation any longer, the Demon swept a mocking bow to the two Reapers before vanishing right in front of their eyes.

Losing the primary focus of his anger, Undertaker swore softly, though not out of respect for the ears of the one closest to him. Bringing up his injured wrist, he placed his own lips upon it, sucking to draw the venom out. He knew it was there, for he was beginning to feel just a little bit disoriented. Undertaker could not afford to lose precious time suffering the effects of the venom, spitting out the bitter liquid as he removed it.

William T. Spears heard the swearing though he ignored it, slightly vexed at the Demon leaving. Now they'd never be able to track him down and stop him from harming anyone else. Finding Grell like this, though, was not what he had in mind. Moving over towards the limp figure, William froze when a large Scythe interposed itself between himself and Grell.

His eyes focused on the brunette, Undertaker kept William back from Grell. The timing of William's arrival was just a little too convienent for the former Reaper and the cold, hard truth was settling inside of him. "Did you know about that Demon, William?" His tone was low, showing that he was not in the mood for evasive answers.

Grell had mentioned nothing about Demonic attacks; his lover always filled him in on the latest gossip from the Shinigami headquarters. Something like that Demon would definitely have been spoken of by Grell, especially seeing as he liked to flirt with a certain red-eyed Demon. And oh, how William averted his eyes at that question. That was enough for Undertaker; William had known. Then why hadn't Grell?

Undertaker stalked over to William, as if the younger male was his prey and he the predator. Backhanding him hard, only a thin veil of satisfaction could be felt within Undertaker as he saw the flow of blood. "You are an evil, sadistic bastard, William. You knew and Grell didn't? I should kill you where you stand!"

"Maybe if Grell ever bothered to be at work on time- instead of fooling around and not doing his job- he'd have heard," William snapped back defensively, holding his bloody nose. He'd never seen the older, retired Shinigami so angry before and it actually made him take a step back. Familiar green eyes narrowed and he realized that he had just made a big mistake.

There was no mistaking the hostility in the gaze Undertaker directed at him. It was cold and calculating and William wondered if the other would now carry out his threat. Trying to backtrack so Undertaker would quit advancing on him, he cleared his throat. "I told everyone I saw that there was Demonic activity and to stay together!"

"Maybe you should have tried telling everyone that there was an actual Demon out there after them," Undertaker said, a dangerously quiet note in his voice. "And that doesn't excuse Grell not being told anything. Are you still jealous that he wouldn't wait for you any longer? Or were you waiting for the Demon to target him to lure him out?"

Still lying upon the ground, Grell could hear how angry Undertaker was, how William tried to defend himself- blaming him for what had happened. Fresh tears welled up and he made a feeble sob. Did William hate him so much that he'd deliberately not told him? Could it really be true? Only a Demon or a Reaper could have heard the weak sound he made as he attempted to move and failed.

Hearing his lover, Undertaker turned away from William. He knew that he was right and that William knew it too. Grell needed him right now; he could hear him crying and knew he was hurting. Turning his face back to William, he knew his eyes were cold and unfeeling. "Get out of my sight before I reap your soul myself, William. Don't think that this is over; we will have a reckoning between us, you and I..."

William knew that there was nothing he could say or do to change Undertaker's mind. In those ancient eyes, he was seen as guilty as the Demon itself was. In all honesty, William was not entirely sure of why he hadn't told Grell. Could it be as Undertaker believed? Was it subconsciously a way of lashing out because he was angry over Grell being with someone else?

Not entirely sure, William returned to the Shinigami headquarters, preparing to do the meeting without Grell there. There was no chance Grell would be able to come or, more likely, that he'd even be able to work for several days. And now William knew who Grell's lover was- the legendary Shinigami who'd retired so long ago. This whole affair could turn out very badly if Undertaker told the higher ranking Grim Reapers that he had not told Grell.

Carefully lifting his battered lover in his arms once he put his Scythe away, Undertaker cradled him gently, pressing a kiss to his forehead. His thumb gently brushed away tearstreaks as he held Grell close. He felt almost like crying himself for what had been done to Grell, but Undertaker knew that he had to be strong for him.

It was painfully clear that Grell had been raped; the blood and semen had trickled onto the back of his legs, his clothing was in pieces, and the Demon had not been wearing his trousers when Undertaker had arrived. He'd pulled them up just before the fight between them had begun. Standing, Undertaker knew he held his everything in his arms; no Demon could destroy what they had together.

Carrying him back towards his shop, Undertaker spoke softly to Grell. Even though his lover couldn't move, still paraylzed from that damned venom, he knew that Grell could hear him. "I'm taking you home, m'dear, to get all this off you in a nice bath," he mumured, though he did not chuckle as he usually did. "Then we'll get this nasty venom out of you. And when you feel up to it, darling, we'll go Reap us a Demon..."

The gentle kiss, the tender way Undertaker carried him; Grell would have wept at such a display if tears hadn't already been on his face. Undertaker wasn't repulsed by him or blaming him; his lover was going to help him get cleaned, for right now Grell really wanted a hot bath with lots of soap. And he wanted to be able to move again; surely Undertaker knew how to purge the venom.

But most telling of all was the Undertaker's last words. When he was ready, they'd go after the Demon together and kill it. Though it was for him, because of what the Demon had done, the vengeance they sought would be reaped by them together.

To be continued