How on earth does Grell live out here in winter?

William's thoughts sneered as he tread through the snow, his hands embracing his freezing middle, through the woods. He had checked Grell's cabin already, it was desolate. He had to travel about a two miles farther into the woods to the mortician's cabin. Absentmindedly he pondered on how spoiled he was. Not only was he an exceptional reaper, investigator, and demon hunter, but he had the highest paycheck of anyone in the Labyrinth Division. He could afford a nice house, with all the luxuries some of his subordinates could not, and even hire some retirees as maids and or butlers. He had two servants, a maid and a butler. Yet he still had more than enough to spend on only on luxuries and necessities, but for some investments that only added to his stock. Thus, it was no wonder he was not an outdoor person. He hated winter, it was cold and slippery and made his work albiet harder.

How dare that man take her? Spoil her body and keep her from you, how dare he? He must die! He must die!

He was still in an illogical state, half of his brain pressing against the more animalistic side. Part of him wanted to rear his death scythe back then lunge the shears into the mortician's heart and collect his Cinematic Record. The more logical side of him, the side William was beginning to lose interest in, told him that he should take this calmly. After all, Grell was promiscuous, this was just a fling! Yes, it was just a fling and Grell would grow tired of the Undertaker and move on to a new ride. Even that thought roused the jealous being within him-there was no telling who Grell would choose and he certainly wasn't going to force her to be with him.

He didn't even have a need for her, he tried to deduce, his life was perfectly fine the way it was. Sure, there were times he felt lonely and physically unattended to, but sex wasn't a needed thing. It was quite enjoyable, no doubt, he had experienced the height of orgasm with another, but it wasn't a necessity. He continued to press that thought on his walk, hating every step in the frigid snow.

"Hmm..." Grell sighed gutturally as she lied atop a coffin in her lover's shoppe. Her dress had been untied and pulled down to the bottom of her black, her front pressing into the coffin's lid. Undertaker's hands slowly worked up and down her tense back, mindful of his nails, as he pressed down into the muscle. He informed Grell to exhale when he pressed down to acheive maximum relaxation. Grell had complained that her back was aching this morning (most likely from having slept in a coffin more often than not lately) and that she really wanted to relax rather than head to work. She didn't care if she got in trouble, she just wanted some time to relax with her lover.

"So tense," her lover purred, kissing the nape of her neck, "Perhaps we shouldn't overexert ourselves with exercise,"

"Oh," Grell pouted, turning to smile at him as she rested her head on her hands, "But how will I ever remain attractive and beautiful for my husband?"

"Ah, just laugh, my dear," he chuckled, leaning down once again to kiss along her scapula, "Ah, such fragile flesh,"

He stroked her hip with his long, black nails, causing her to shiver at their chilly touch.

"Oh, Undertaker..." Grell shivered, turning over to look into his eyes, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, "How long has it been since we made love, my husband?"

"Mm," the mortician's smile cracked excitedly, "Too long, my dear,"

Finally! After an hour of treading through the snow William made it to the mortician's shop. He saw the two lovers through the frosted window, Grell's dress hanging off of her waist, her hands eagerly unbuttoning the mortician's cloak and robes. The two disappeared through behind a doorway and up stairs to the upper level. He followed them, watching through the window as they fell unto the scarcely used bed the mortician had. He had seen enough, he had half a mind to barge in and slaughter the man for his acts. The look on Grell's face though, the look of pure happiness and joy...He'd never seen her so happy. Being irrational wouldn't solve this to anyone's joy or happiness, he had to go under their noses.

He went back to the Labyrinth later that night and enter the prison cell of the demon who had assaulted him before. He could've believe he was doing this-it was wrong, it was against his morale, and also against the law. But he wanted the mortician out of the picture, brainwashing himself to believe that it was for Grell's own good. Even if it meant using a demon he was going to get rid of that wretched madman.

"So, I see you've seen the light?" Claude chuckled, stroking his hair away from his face.

"I'm only here for information," William hissed, "What do you know? How did you even know?"

"I could smell it on her," Claude spoke softly, "I suggest you keep your voice down,"

"Why?" William's eyes narrowed.

"Because I'm about to make you the offer of a lifetime," the spider smirked, rising from the bed.

Grell cooed softly in her husband's arms, sleeping soundly upon his chest with her arms embracing his pale form. Every now and then she'd wriggle or squirm, but she wasn't in pain or experiencing any nightmare in her slumber. The mortician was not asleep however, he wasn't used to his bed at all. He hadn't slept in his own in decades and it had become stiff and rather lumpy. Grell didn't seem to care though as long as she was in his arms, so he decided he didn't have to care either. He smiled down at her, stroking his fingers through her long, crimson locks. Ah, they were like rags of silk on a century old corpse; laden with age but still so soft and beautiful. She was a young reaper, but the length of her hair proved how old she was. The coloring was astonishing.

He watched her as she slept, her breathless body mimicking that of a corpse. Ah, what a perfect romance; Death and the Keeper. He would lie an entirety in a tomb for her, splintering her coffin until he reached her hand to hold that stiff, cold limb. He pondered though, staring down at her as she slept, who was to say that life would not exist in death? His kind was living proof that death could live without a soul. His wife was very much alive in her deathly state, she could choose to breathe but chose not too. She could've chosen to kill the demon but she didn't, she was the immaculate creation of his prayers to the demented sky above. He worshiped the Heavens like he did the earth, with eerie delight and horror.

Unlike mortals though they could never die, thus came the question if childbearing had a profound meaning. Those who did not die did not need to reproduce and have children, there was no need to pass on a legacy and slowly watch it dilute through the generations. It was hard to conceive for reapers, humans were considered lucky for their ability to reproduce so easily despite how easily the mother could die in such a fragile state. For reapers though it could take decades, with an immortal life nothing was sacred. Nothing could be cherished because it would slowly become mundane and dull, to Undertaker though he cherished everything, its value brought on by the fact everything would soon reach its end.

So would a child, they would grow up and leave. He knew though that he wanted one, and he wanted to conceive one with his wife.