A/N: Warnings/tags for character death, referenced Grell/Undertaker relationship, and generally depressing content. I'm kinda shipping Grell/UT but I promised a Grelliam story (who I also love) so I'm torn. Thoughts?

Vincent ran his hands through his hair for the billionth time. The nervous tic offered him no relief. He wondered if Bard and Finnian were keeping Rachel safe, and where Ciel was. There was no telling who could overhear the wrong thing so he had told Sebastian to keep their locations a secret, even from him. When the time came he would call to Sebastian and wherever he was the demon would hear him. Until then he could only swallow his fear and keep working.

He plucked a splinter out of the aging coffin. "How many?"

"I'll be havin' a busy day," Undertaker said.

"How many?"

Undertaker raised his face from his desk. He had stopped Vincent from telling him a joke, he said he couldn't laugh if he was trying his hardest. This was enough to tell Vincent he wasn't going to get any good news. Death was an old friend to the Undertaker, he had never seen it affect the man before. Now the mortician was slumped over his desk looking defeated. This amount of bodies should have delighted him, especially as damaged as they were, but he looked as devoid of life as his patrons.

"Nineteen children survived. No one else made it."

Vincent grimaced. "Do the bodies bear any evidence we could use?"

"Not that I've found so far."

He walked over to one of the adult sized caskets. He ran his fingers over the lid. It was of the highest craftsmanship, a masterpiece even for the Undertaker. It was the deepest of cherry toned woods and shined to an impeccable gloss. Vincent tilted the lid to the side, and found himself thrown against the wall with a bony hand around his throat.

"Don't you touch her," Undertaker hissed, bangs falling away to reveal his furious green eyes.

Vincent sputtered as his feet lifted from the ground. "Wha...who…?"

Undertaker let him fall and stalked over to the red coffin. Vincent sat on the floor trying to regain his breath. He rubbed his throat, a bit disoriented. The Undertaker had always been eccentric but still the gentle sort. He walked over to stand next to him, careful not to get too close, and glimpsed the crimson hair laid out against white satin. In his mind's eye he saw a redheaded doctor leaning on William Spears' desk while they discussed adopting Ciel. He looked back to Undertaker. It was the first time he'd seen the man bothered by anything besides burning a pan of cookies.

"What was he doing there so late? I know William had a lot on his plate but what of the doctor?"

Undertaker laid on top of the coffin, tracing the grain of the wood with an overgrown fingernail. "She was a soft touch, y'know? It messed 'er up when that kid died. She felt responsible, she liked the little brat."

"You knew him, then." Vincent was quite confused, both by Undertaker's mournful attitude and by the fact he didn't seem to know the doctor was a man.

"She was me best friend!" Undertaker wailed, and for a minute he looked like he was going to rage at Vincent again, but he deflated back onto the coffin.

Vincent was eager to change the subject. He was there to work and it wasn't going to get done if he had to comfort this loon. He looked around at the many small, half finished coffins. It could have been Ciel in one of those if they hadn't adopted him. He thought of how it would feel to see his son in one of them, eternally young, his spirit forever gone from this world. His chest ached at the thought. Two pieces clicked together in his mind and though he wanted to get down to business, he couldn't help but voice his epiphany.

"You loved the doctor." To the following silence, he pressed, "Didn't you?"

There was a tortured, choked sound from under the veil of silver hair hiding Undertaker's face. "Her name was Grell. Before she was a doctor she was just a cold, wet student stranded out in the rain. She was just my Grell."

Vincent imagined Rachel in a coffin next to Ciel's, and his impatience slipped away. He dared to rest a hand on Undertaker's quivering shoulder. "I'm sorry."

"How do you get anything done in this?" Grell demanded, pulling the black robe back off and straightening his suit.

Undertaker frowned down at his own long robe and tugged at the scarf tied over his shoulder. "Huh?"

Grell rolled his eyes and sat sideways in Undertaker's lap. He pushed the long bangs out of his face to admire his usually hidden eyes. Their flirty banter had turned into a relationship after a couple months, and now, six months later, they had learned all there was to know about each other. He even knew the funeral director was a retired grim reaper. Undertaker seemed to have expecting him to be shocked or whatever but he'd believed in ghosts as a child, why not reapers? Besides, he was dating a god. That was awesome.

"You have such a nice body, why don't you wear some clothes that fit," he said with a pout.

"'Cause these are comfy if you mus' know."

Grell stuck his tongue out, only to be punished with a bout of tickling. He shrieked and tried to climb onto the desk but he was trapped in the chair, one hand holding him still and the other tickling his stomach. He begged for mercy through his laughter. Undertaker was laughing along with him. He tickled him until they were both breathless, and Grell's head hung over the arm of the chair as he panted. He gave Undertaker's ribs a retaliatory poke but Undertaker just giggled.

They spent most of the evening in his morbid little shop talking about Grell's school work and the crazy things Undertaker had done in his lifetime. Grell leaned against his side while he worked on a coffin, handing him tools while he told a story about crossdressing during the French Revolution. He watched Undertaker's nimble hands carve a rose into the side of an oak coffin. He had never asked his lover's real name, as he assumed it was part of a life he had long since left behind, and he was simply Undertaker now.

He tugged on the taller man's sleeve. "After graduation will you take me to your favorite place that you've visited?"

"That's a long ways, yet."

"Time will go by fast."

Undertaker smiled. It was a sight many seemed to find unsettling, but Grell couldn't fathom not seeing the beauty in it. "Yes, m'dear, it always does."

"Hot summer nights, mid July
When you and I were forever wild
The crazy days, city lights
The way you'd play with me like a child."

Vincent kicked a shard of the broken window. The manor was still being repaired from the attack. It was at least three in the morning, his wife long asleep, but he couldn't sleep for the life of him. He kept imagining a gunshot and the light going out of Rachel's eyes. Unlike Ciel, she was not protected by the contract. Her fragile life could be shattered as easily as the glass under his feet. He stared out at the deceptively peaceful night.

It had been a solid plan at one time. Adopt Ciel and use him as bait for the cult, and give Rachel a child in the meantime. He had expected the cult to eventually hunt Ciel down for knowing too much but he hadn't expected their attack to cause this many casualties. He had just wanted to fulfill his orders from the Queen to end the cult while protecting their newly adopted child. His plan had unraveled around him.

"You better be keeping him safe, you bastard," he muttered, sick at the thought of leaving Ciel in his butler's hands. He knew Sebastian could protect him but he still wanted to be able to keep an eye on that perverse devil.

He had less than a month left. He thought of Ciel's guarded smile and wished more than anything he could have just a bit longer with his son, but his bed was made.

"You've seemed out of sorts all night," Grell remarked, sitting up.

Undertaker peered up at him. Hanging out in a coffin took some getting used to but Grell had long since become accustomed to cuddling (and doing other things) in one of Undertaker's beloved coffins. It's not like they were used. His morbid lover had seemed out of sorts all night, though, and it was starting to worry him.

"I'm no good for you, my lady."

Grell laughed but when Undertaker didn't join in, he stopped and stammered, "What could you possibly mean by that?"

"I might look weathered, but I'm not getting no older," Undertaker said. He climbed out of the coffin with Grell on his heels.

"So after all this time now you decide you don't want to be together because I'm not going to be young forever like you?"

Undertaker must have heard the anger in Grell's voice, for his own had softened when he said, "I can't grow old with you, one day you'll die and I'll keep living."

"I know that, I've always known that!"

Undertaker started walking away again and Grell jumped a coffin to run after him. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. The thought had occurred to him, too, but he had accepted it and wanted to be with a reaper anyway. If they stayed together then he would die and Undertaker would go on, probably fall in love again, and that was okay. Grell knew he couldn't be around for all of Undertaker's life but he had thought Undertaker wanted to be there for all of his.

He grabbed Undertaker's wrist and pulled him to a stop. "Why are you doing this?"

"Because I love you, Grell, and I'm not strong like you."

Grell felt his lip begin to tremble. "Of course you're strong, look at all you've been through...not that I see what difference it would make even if you weren't strong."

Undertaker framed his face in his hands. He had pushed his bangs away, allowing Grell to look into his eyes. They were full of sadness and resignation. "I see it every day, your hair getting longer, gettin' a bit redder...you're getting older. To you humans you're just maturing but to me you're dying. Your lifetime is going to go by in a flash for me."

"I'm terribly sorry that I'm not worth your time," Grell spat.

"I would give you all me time if I could but I can't, and I can't watch you die, either."

Grell reached up to take Undertaker's hands, knowing that his own had started to shake. "You can't leave me I'll miss you too much. You're the only person who has ever accepted me for who I am, who I feel like I am. You're the first person I've loved who has loved me back."

"I wouldn't dare leave you an' then let you miss me."

Grell felt his tears well up and spill down his cheeks. He started to ask what his lover meant when a strange pulse went through his body. He blinked as his vision blurred and he became disoriented. It was as though someone had reached inside him and started moving things around. He tried to move, only to fall against Undertaker. He tried to speak but could not.

"You'll still have someone who accepts you m'dear...you just won't remember that you loved this old bag o'bones, see?" Grell tried to scream, to beg, but he was too weak. "You won't know about reapers, neither. Your world will go back to normal." I don't want it to go back! Grell yelled from inside, helplessly watching his tears splash onto the layer of dust on the floor.

Undertaker held him close, grasping his face. There seemed to be electricity coming from his hands. Grell tried to hold on to every memory of the two of them but they slipped through his fingers like the finest grains of sand. Wave after wave of Undertaker's power washed them away. The room was going dark, his hold on the back of Undertaker's robe going slack. He reached desperately for his memories but he couldn't recall their first time or what color Undertaker's eyes were. He couldn't remember what was happening or why he was fighting back.

By the time he collapsed he only knew that Undertaker had taken him in on a rainy night, and that he was a dear friend.

"Will you still love me
When I'm no longer young and beautiful?
Will you still love me
When I got nothing but my aching soul? "