A/N: This is the last chapter...wow..
Also, "Smile, reaper" is a reference to my other fic "Smile, red reaper." I couldn't help it lol
Was it sunny or were the candles burning down his shop? Undertaker couldn't decide, all he could see was the realization and the blinding light of acceptance. He could vaguely hear Grell's voice calling out again, but he paid it no heed. Instead, he set off towards the door and left, the door slammed behind him. His ears were ringing. How could he have forgotten? A face so memorable, almost impossible to miss in a crowd.
"You should appreciate life a bit more, reaper." A set of golden eyes flickered sideways. A huff was heard. "Smile, reaper."
"Be friendly, Amon." A head, half covered in bandages turned towards the other.
"It's been days since you reaped Desimus, you should forget about him." Amon told him.
"Forget? He contracted a demon, I can't even remember how it looked like." A single green-golden eye's gaze turned downwards.
It wasn't the face though. It were the eyes, they held a fire within. The fire battled a fight so vicious, it always found a way to stay ablaze and destroy. The Undertaker ended up walking into an old warehouse. As if he'd been drawn towards it.
His gaze wandered over the numerous shelves, noting their worn down texture. They wouldn't hold him, were he to jump. The room was growing colder the longer he allowed his eyes to scan. A fog was starting to rise and only then did he take a step forward to investigate further.
"Do you like the little surprise visit?" An all too familiar voice asked. Undertaker didn't even bother to turn around.
"No, I actually don't think I do." He said.
"You started to remember." Amon started. "I had to erase it and had some fun using this." He held up a vial consisting of nothing but a clear liquid.
"Smile, rea-" Amon was cut off by a hand waving into his face.
"Don't you dare." Undertaker warned. He poured a clear liquid into a porcelain cup.
"You're no fun." Amon responded. He was supporting his head with his hands, boredom as clear as the liquid in front of him. He'd been staring at Undertaker for the last half hour, studying his various expressions. So serious. Amon decided at last. It didn't suit the reaper.
"Do something productive." Undertaker said. He was irritated and it showed.
"What's so productive about this than?" Amon asked motioning towards the cup. "Why does it have so many flowers?" He lowered himself, clutching onto the table for support.
"This is a poison. Created by the created." Undertaker said with a smile, pushing the cup further away from the demon.
"The created? Life, mister Death, is what makes you tick." Amon stood upright once more. He crossed his arms, a smug smile played on his lips. "Why poison a human if you can make them dissipate with the blink of your eyes?" Amon was amused, but the know-it-all posture was Undertaker's fuel to outsmart him.
"Life is what makes you die." Undertaker countered. "This poison will kill a human with a single drop, kill a horse with two and incapacitate any other immortal being using whatever is needed." Undertaker explained. "I don't know the effects yet, but it shouldn't be able to kill angels, demons or reapers." Unfortunately. Undertaker added to himself.
The present was as dull as the past felt to the mortician. Amon was the demon who had lied to Desimus and who had managed to befriend his potential killer. How had he survived? The question came sudden, but the urge to ask faded the moment he laid eyes on the demon. He hadn't missed him.
"How did you even get that?" Undertaker asked genuinely interested.
"Simple. You forgot about it and frankly, I did too for a little while." Amon said with a breathy laugh. "The moment you started to remember, I took it." He explained.
"Why bother and befriend me in the first place?" Undertaker asked.
"I live for the entertainment, reaper." Amon said with a dismissive shrug.
"In that case you should appreciate life a bit more." Undertaker answered. He manifested his scythe in one swift motion.
"Sure you don't want to kill an old friend?" Amon said. "Or the friend of your friend if you don't count me as a friend anymore." He added as an afterthought. Undertaker smiled, not one of fondness or amusement, more out of the sight he was imagining. A decapitated head held in his hands, blood everywhere, coating the rusty shelves a red that would make his lover proud. "You learned how to smile." Amon said with a smile of his own.
"I'm death." Undertaker said. His voice was a strained whisper, barely audible.
"I taught you how to smile." The nameless demon stood up when he felt the silver haired reaper drop beside him. He turned towards the dead body of his so called brother. "I will teach you too, reaper."
The voice reached through, but it didn't register. The sword was picked up with ease, it was dripping three different substances. One murky transparent, a clear liquid and the morbid crimson fluid belonging to the reaper at his feet. Rain, Amon looked up at the sky. Poison, Amon looked down at the reaper. Blood, Amon smirked. When death forgot, demons could come out to play. Life, love, was nowhere near. A tricky mind game it would become, but a fascinating one at that.
"I made you forget, I made you remember." Amon began. "You were much more intriguing than Desi." He said. Insanity, according to Undertaker, was a present feature not of the Undertaker but of the demon right in front of him.
"No, I made that poison after I met you." Undertaker said.
"You never really met me." Amon told him. "I have always been there." He said, his voice was growing husky and he was swimming in self-satisfactory. It disgusted the reaper. Undertaker's scythe was growing heavy, his hands were losing their grip on the handle. There was a fog rising inside his head, threatening to take him away into another memory. If it hadn't been for the shrill sound of a chainsaw cutting through the air, the Undertaker would have lost a battle he never remembered putting in motion.
"Ah! My silver darling and a beast of a handsome creature." Grell's unmistakable voice overpowered the sound of the chainsaw. "The room is too small for this." He said as he blinked rapidly and feigned being overwhelmed, using his hand to flap up and down repeatedly as if it would cool him off somehow.
"I have seen you before." Amon said with a smirk. "You two are quite the pair." Undertaker saw an anxious glimmer fighting a way towards the surface of the blazing furnace that were the demon's eyes.
"Judging by my silver darling's expression here, you are not a friend." Grell commented. He took consequential steps towards the Undertaker and put a hand on his arm. He started pulling upwards. It took Undertaker a moment longer before he recognized the act as an attempt to straighten him from his slumping position. When Grell let go of him, a spike of electricity coursed through him. It was a shockwave of longing that followed afterwards.
The spark of electricity awakened more than just the empty feeling of hiraeth. It did so much more and it didn't go unnoticed by both other beings. It brought life. The incessant ringing in his head stopped abruptly and his scythe became almost weightless. It was almost hovering just above his hands, but it wasn't. He was still gripping it tightly. This was a good sign. Undertaker concluded. The smile that followed wasn't the one Amon had tried to create. The smile of the insane had turned into a genuinely amused smile with as much brightness as any sane person who's sincerely happy would have. Amon took note of Undertaker's eyes though, glassy and clouded with insanity. He hadn't lost yet.
"My my, remind me never to touch you if that's going to be your reaction." Amon said.
"Be friendly, Amon." Undertaker warned. He straightened up the best he could. He lifted his scythe high above his head and held it there, obviously enjoying the airy feeling it sent through him. Grell wore a matching grin. The mournful sound of the scythe slashing through the air and Grell's chainsaw cutting the rusty shelves were strangely soothing sounds to the duo's ears. Amon grimaced and stepped back. The two reapers charged both at the same time, each on a different side towards the demon. Amon quickly caught on and managed to manifest the sword. Grell faltered when he sensed the nature of the sword. Undertaker, knowing fully well the nature, background and current situation of not only the sword but also its previous owner, never slowed down. He brought his scythe down with agile ease. Amon countered it with the sword, deflecting the huge scythe and sending sparks flying up in the air. Having had the time to process the off feeling of the yearning of a scythe, Grell aimed for Amon's hand. The beautiful gush of red that followed made Grell's smile reappear.
"Agh!" Amon cried out as he dropped the sword. Undertaker took a step closer and inspected the demon closely.
"Why?" Undertaker asked simply. Amon stared at the reaper, his eyes betraying his growing defeat and acceptance thereof.
"Entertainment." Amon repeated. Undertaker shook his head, picked up the sword and promptly cut off the demon's severed hand. Amon cried out, sending echoes to travel the specious room.
"Wrong answer." Undertaker held the sharp blade against Amon's cheek, silently warning him not to lie again.
"You weren't happy. Reapers…never are." His voice was starting to become strained.
"Why care?" Undertaker pressed the blade into Amon's cheek, cutting through the skin. The demon snorted and shook his head, trying not to cut himself any further.
"I believe in life." Amon's words were heavy. They were dragged out, cautious but the truth.
"Oh, you handsome devil." Grell began. "I bet you don't believe in death than? He's standing right in front of you." Grell said amused.
"Death can learn to live too." Amon said. A glimmer of hope flickered out of existence when Undertaker lifted his scythe.
"No." He answered.
"Smile, reaper."
"Not for you."
Red. Beautiful red. The color of love and hatred, so different yet so equal. It was a part of their world. It brightened the dark shadows and chased away the demons. Red. The color of warmth and comfort, of death and despair. Forever it continues to paint the world of two certain reapers. And they were prepared to enjoy every single moment of it.
THE END