Chapter 5:

Her hair and coat whipped behind her like a scarlet cape as she leapt through the night air, and the first demon didn't even have a chance to respond. She saw his face, caught partially between that of his human and demon forms, contort into surprise and fear as she drove her chainsaw effortlessly through his body. Thick blood shot out of the corrupted neck, hanging on the air like the cologne of the damned, and the scent of it made her smile. Even before the demon had hit the ground, she had already freed her blade and swung around to catch a succubus that had been trying to jump her from behind.

Even with all their eyes had undoubtedly seen during their existence, the demons seemed surprised at her ferocity, and a few even retreated without attempting to attack. A rather young demon, who had the face of a boy with the curled horns of a ram growing from his head, jumped forward and managed to cut her arm rather deeply with his clawed hand. The pain only fueled her rage as she turned and effortlessly cut him cleanly in two.

She wasn't sure how long she had fought by the time the last demon fell. Like a blood-soaked madwoman, she laughed manically as she cut and slashed at the lifeless body again and again. Her laughter grew as her body shook with emotion, but then she came to realize something very odd.

She wasn't laughing. She was crying.

All her emotions had come pouring out in that moment, and the tears streamed down her cheeks – undoubtedly mixing the blood that had splattered on her face. Feeling drained and exhausted, she finally turned from the body of the dead demon to examine the woman whose records she had been sent to collect. The blonde's eyes were even more striking then they had been in the picture as she struggled to breathe, but she looked over and locked her gaze on Grell. Like so many before her, she was able to view the face of her reaper in those final moments, but she managed a smile as she mouthed her final words.

"It's over."

The woman's cinematic records didn't struggle nearly as much as the ones Grell had been recently reaping, so the final act was almost anticlimactic, but she still felt drained. She had gotten all of her anger and frustration out while fighting the demons, but now she wasn't sure what she was left with inside. Michael's words had hurt her very deeply, although it wasn't as if she hadn't heard the accusations in the past. She knew there were rumors about her supposed promiscuity despite the fact there was no real truth in most of what was said. The difference, however, were those were tales carried by those who never claimed to care about her. Michael was different. He was supposed to love her, but he had called her a whore simply because she had talked to someone else. Of course, hitting him probably hadn't been the greatest decision on her part, and she did regret her actions. No doubt, she would find that she was suspended for striking a superior was she returned to the office. There was a good chance she would even be demoted, and there was no question that it was all over with Michael.

She ran a hand through her hair and found that it was growing sticky with blood. As beautiful as she found blood with its trailing, crimson fingers and red blossoms, it was a pain to wash out of her hair. There was no use putting off the inevitable, so she decided to head back. Normally, she might have snuck home first to freshen up but decided to make use of the showers located at the office for a change. She still had some fresh clothes stored in her locker, and she might as well be presentable when she was reprimanded.

There was still some hesitation when she created the portal back to her realm, although she immediately stored her scythe. All too often, her precious, unique scythe was the first thing they liked to take away from her, but she held out the tiniest kernel of hope that they might forget to do so if it was stored out of sight. Later, she would carefully wash the blade when she had a few minutes of peace as she had done so many times before. Quietly, she made her way down a long hallway on one of lower levels as she headed for the showers. As it was between shifts, there was no one around at the moment, and she rather hoped that she didn't run into anyone as she didn't feel much like talking at the moment.

She realized that luck was most certainly not on her side when she turned the corner and almost ran into Dr. Brown as he stepped out of the infirmary. Inwardly she cursed, but she managed to greet the doctor with an appropriate smile. "Good evening, Dr. Brown," she said with false cheerfulness.

The doctor's eyes went wide behind his glasses as he stared at her for a moment. "Are you quite okay?" he managed, "You're covered in blood?"

"Oh, but this isn't my blood, doctor," she replied with her sharp toothed smile, "A few demons just got in my way. That's all."

He shook his head, which caused his unruly, white hair to fly about wildly. "And what about this?" He gently took her arm and pointed to where the young demon had managed to claw her. Her shirt was torn badly, and the jagged cut along her skin had only barely begun to heal.

"It's only a scratch," she countered, "I'm really fine."

"A demon's claws can still cause infection," Dr. Brown insisted, "even among healthy reapers. I see that you're heading to the showers. After you wash up, head back here to the infirmary so I can properly clean this wound. Wouldn't want something so minor to keep you from being able to go out into the field."

"I suppose," she relented, although she thought his concern was probably misplaced. There was a good chance that it would be some time before she was allowed back in the field despite her health. "Thank you for your concern." She flashed another one of her smiles before hurrying on towards the showers, but her smile melted away quickly as she walked. There simply wasn't anything to be happy about in this situation.

She hadn't actually used these showers in a long time as she usually preferred to stop at her apartment to clean up quickly. It was technically against the rules, but it was such a common practice that no one said anything about it. Unfortunately, this also meant the clothes in her locker weren't her usual style as she had dressed in much plainer attire at one time. With a bit of irony, she realized that aside from her flowing hair the black jacket, vest, pants, with white dress shirt actually fit Michael's ridiculous dress code. Maybe seeing her dressed like this might even afford her some leniency. The thought forced out a choked laugh as she preceded to the actual shower.

The water was hot, nearly blistering, but she stood there and allowed it to pound on her tired muscles in hopes it could drive out some of her worry. Instead, she only felt more exhausted as she fell back against the wall of the shower and allowed her own hot tears to mix with the water. At least there was no one around to hear her cry. After several minutes, she finally washed herself carefully as she watched the old blood disappear down the drain and out of sight. She only wished she could wash away her troubles that easily.

Wrapping her long hair in a white towel, she put on the fresh, clean clothes and put her soiled ones, except for her beloved coat, in a garment bag with her name stamped on the clear surface. She dropped the bag down a chute to be laundered so that she could pick it up later, but the coat she returned to her locker. After work, she would retrieve it and take it home to wash it by hand. She trusted no one touch that coat other than herself, and she wasn't always so sure about herself.

Still towel drying her hair, she walked back to the infirmary where she found Dr. Brown was waiting on her, but he wasn't alone. Michael was also standing there with an unreadable expression upon his face, but Grell wouldn't allow herself to show how his presence affected her. There was a strong chance he would launch into a tirade right here in the infirmary, but she planned to hold herself with pride regardless. Despite her rising annoyance, she knew that Dr. Brown had only been following procedure when he had contacted Michael.

"Let's have a look at that arm then," Dr. Brown said with a gentle smile.

She unbuttoned her sleeve and pulled it up to show the cut. Without the demon blood surrounding it, the wound looked like little more than a scratch, which seemed to please the doctor. He spread a small amount of ointment over the area to prevent infection and wrapped it lightly with some clean gauze. "This doesn't look so bad," he said, "How many demons were there anyway?"

"I'm not sure," she replied, "Maybe eight or so. I know I killed at least five of them, but a few got away."

"Eight?" Michael gasped, whirling about to grab her upper arms. She winced slightly as he grabbed a bit too closely to where she had been injured. "Why didn't you call for backup?"

"There was no need," she answered through gritted teeth, "I took care of them, didn't I?"

Dr. Brown chuckled. "Young reapers these days are so bold," he said, "but do take care from now on." He patted Grell gently on the back with a kind, almost fatherly smile. "You're all patched up now and ready to go back to work."

"Thank you, Dr. Brown," she said, as she replaced her bland, black jacket.

"Yes, thank you doctor," Michael agreed, "It's important that all of our agents are in proper health. Come on, Sutcliff. You'll need to file an incident report."

"Yes, Mr. Summer," Grell replied with false meekness. She could just feel the tension and knew that Michael was waiting to explode the moment they were alone, but there was little else she could do at the moment. Wordlessly, she followed Michael as they left the infirmary, and she wasn't surprised they were heading towards the back halls towards the service elevators. They weren't likely to run into anyone by walking this way.

The turned the corner that led down to deserted hallway, when Michael suddenly turned to face her. She tensed, waiting for the confrontation, but he wrapped his arms around her instead. "Oh, Grell!" he cried, and to her surprise his voice sounded as if he was on the verge of tears. "I was so worried about you! When the doctor told me you had been injured by a demon, I came down here half expecting to find you torn to ribbons. Why would you do anything so reckless, love?"

Instead of answering his question, she pushed away from his embrace. "Aren't you afraid that someone might see us here?" she hissed, "Someone might think you actually care for me?" She took a few steps away as she struggled not to cry. Despite her pain, Michael didn't deserve to see her tears.

"Grell," Michael said gently, "Are you still upset because we argued? Forget about it, dear. I said things that I didn't mean. Things I should have never said, and you throw a mean punch." He smiled as if to show he wasn't angry, and there was no sign of a bruise since he had a chance to heal. "Just forget all about it."

"It's not that easy," she replied, glancing back over her shoulder. "You really hurt me, Michael. I know what everyone says about me, but I didn't expect to hear from you." Her voice hitched slightly as new tears gathered in her eyes.

He walked over and put his arms around her behind, but this time, she didn't move away. "I should have never have said what I did," he agreed, "I know it's no excuse, but I'm just so terrified of losing you that I went a bit crazy when I saw you with someone else. I've never had anyone that was so precious to me, and I'm scared that someone's going to swoop in and try to steal you away. You're my precious jewel, and I think I'd lock you away in a vault if I could. I just love you so much that I'm afraid I'm a bit jealous."

"Jealousy isn't usually a good thing," she said – echoing Ronald's earlier words to her, but she was already relenting slightly.

"But it's only because I love you."

She looked up at him as tear spilled down her pale cheek. "You say that, but you won't even tell anyone that we're dating," she whispered, "Sometimes, I'm afraid you're embarrassed of me."

He looked at her steadily for several minutes, but then a smile caressed his features. "Never," he said as he wiped away the tear. "If anything, you're too good for me. Come on. I'll prove it to you."

Confused, she allowed him to lead her to the elevator, but he gave no hint to what he was planning. The same mischievous smile head always had when he was planning a surprise was painted on his handsome face, but he only shook his head when she tried to ask him what he was going to do. Soon, they returned to the floor, but this time he took her hand so that they walked out together. There were only a handful of workers in the front lobby at present, and no one seemed to even notice them until Michael began to shout.

"Everyone, I have an announcement!" he began as he held their arms up so that their interlocked hands were on display, "Grell and I are dating. Furthermore, I'm asking her now to take our relationship to the next level. I want this lovely creature to move in with me." He spun her around so that they were standing face to face as if no one else in the room mattered, although she could still their surprised mutterings. "What do you say, rose?" he said, "I want your face to be the last thing I see before I close my eyes at night and the first thing to greet me each morning."

Her breath caught in her throat as her passionate heart threatened to escape the confines of her chest. Just dating someone had begun to almost seem like an impossible fantasy, but now this gorgeous, strong man was actually asking her to move in. Somewhere, deep in the back of her mind, the worry and doubt nibbled at her like an errant mouse with a piece of discarded cheese, but she pushed far into the darkest shadows of her thoughts. Michael stood here, on the verge of embarrassment if she dared to say no, and had openly expressed his feelings in front of everyone. He did care after all.

"Of course I will," she replied, and a few of spectators even clapped when they kissed passionately. There were the model image of a perfect couple.

After all, even perfect couples had fights from time to time.

((x))

"Welcome to your new home, lovely lady," Michael said as he opened the door to his apartment. Before she could take a step inside, he picked up and carried her across the threshold.

"So, am I your wife now, Mr. Summer?" Grell asked.

He kissed her while still holding her in his arms. "That's what I liked to work towards," he said, "How does Mrs. Grell Summer sound?"

She pretended to muse on the subject for a few moments. "Not too bad," she answered, "I wouldn't even have to change my monogramed towel set."

Laughing, he twirled about as he shut the door. "Let me give you the grand tour," he offered.

"I could walk if you put me down," she laughed, holding on to him tightly in direct contradiction of her words.

"Never!" he cried, "Now that I got you in my arms, I'm never letting you go again." Their laughter intertwined like music as he twirled her about his apartment, which she found was rather large. It was a bit plainer than her usual style of décor, but it was tasteful and classy. He even had a balcony which commanded a glorious view of their realm, but true to his word, he didn't seem to want to let her go. At least, that was the case until he reached the bedroom.

"Red sheets!" she gasped, as she looked down at the bed, "I never dreamed you were the type for red sheets, although it's delicious surprise."

He laid her down gently on the beds and hovered over her with his knees planted on either side of her thighs. His face was already flushed as he smiled, but the look upon his face was almost predatory. She wiggled in anticipation because she had seen that face before and knew exactly where this moment was heading. "I bought them for you, red rose," he said huskily, "because I knew how beautiful you were look spread out on blankets as blood red as your glorious hair. Of course, if I knew how beautiful, I would have brought you here long ago."

It was true that they had never made love in his apartment, but that was the furthest thing from her mind as wrapped her arms about his neck and brought his body down to hers so that not even a whisper could have slipped between their forms.

((x))

Grell sat quietly on the balcony looking up at the full moon, or what appeared to be a full moon. There were times she could genuinely forget that most of what they saw of their realm was fake and only designed to please that part of them that still clung to their former humanity. It actually didn't matter to her that none of this was realm at this moment because it was all so beautiful and peaceful. Inhaling deeply, she threw back her head as she bathed her nude body in the moonlight.

"Has anyone ever told you how beautiful you are?" Michael asked from the doorway. Unlike her, he was dressed partially in a pair of pajama pants.

She titled her head back, allowing her hair to fall in a cascade that she knew would draw his eyes. "You have," she replied "but you can always say it more often."

Walking over, he trailed on hand down her shoulder and arm, and she shivered beneath his feathery touch. There were times she felt self-conscious about her own body, but he truly did have a way of making her feel at ease and lovely. "If anyone could see you up here," he whispered against her lips, "It would cause a great a scandal."

"Would that bother you?" she asked, looking up at him teasingly.

"No," he answered, "It would all be worth it for you." He stepped back as a worried look crossed over his features. "But I'm afraid there is the matter of that dress code."

"I thought you had just made all that up because you were jealous," she gasped, "Are you trying to tell me that ridiculous thing is for real?" Her cheerful mood faded as even the brightness of the (fake) moon seemed to pale.

"I was jealous when I came to talk to you," he admitted, "but the dress code is for real. It was brought up in a meeting and not by me." He shook his head. "I'll try to talk to them tomorrow," he added, "Maybe we could get them to agree to some sort of compromise."

"What sort of compromise?"

"What if you don't wear the red coat?" he offered, "Dress the same otherwise, but wear that black jacket you wore this evening instead. Would that be okay?"

She barely held back a small cry when she realized she had left her precious coat in her locker, but she decided not to say anything about that for now. In truth, it did seem like only a minor change to her wardrobe. It wasn't as if they were trying to make her change everything about her appearance. "I guess that would be okay," she finally said, "but please understand that coat is very important to me."

His brow furrowed. "How so? I thought you just took it off some woman you reaped."

"I did," she replied, "but it's more…complicated than that. I'll explain it all to you someday, I promise. Right now, I just don't even know how to start."

"I'll wait then," he said, "but do you agree to wear the black jacket for now?"

"For now."

Smiling, he scooped her back up into her arms and turned to carry back into the apartment. "That's great," he said, "I'm glad we got that settled because I think there are others things we need to attend to."

Her laughter trailed behind her like a happy banner as she laid back comfortably and trusting in his arms.

((x))

The next day started out smoothly for Grell. Waking up at Michael's seemed so normal and comfortable for her, although she had only brought over a few of her belongings. Michael had wanted to bring more, but Grell was a little reluctant to move everything from her place so quickly. Michael didn't seemed to understand Grell's hesitation, almost as if he was afraid this was a sign she was ready to simply run away from him, but she had finally gotten him to understand that this was all still very new to her. They had left that morning for work, arm and arm, as she had once imagined herself with William, but this was no mere daydream. This was reality.

This was perfection.

Michael told her he'd be working late, so she took the time between cases to head down to Dispatch. A few agents noticed her and shouted out greetings. It was nice to feel missed as she headed towards Ronald's desk. Thankfully she arrived before William stepped out on the floor, because it appeared the young reaper was taking a quick nap. Smiling, she stood behind and leaned close to his ear.

"What is the meaning of this, Knox?" she demanded with her best impression of William. Her voice didn't have the right tone, but the words still had the desired effect.

"Uh!" Ronald shouted as he jerked awake, "I was just, uh, resting my eyes, Mr. Spears, honest." He turned, no doubt thinking he'd see William's angry face, but he immediately relaxed when he saw Grell standing there instead. "Senior!" he cried, as he jumped up, "Now that was a mean trick." He was laughing as he spoke. "So what are you up to now?"

"You'll never believe it, Ronnie," she gushed, "Michael asked me to move in with him. He even announced it right there in the main lobby of Upper Management. Isn't that wonderful?"

"Wow! He already asked you to move in? That is amazing – and fast. So things are going good for you two?"

She nodded enthusiastically. "Michael has to work late tonight, so let's go out to celebrate. What do you say? It will be my treat."

Ronald pretended to think about it for a moment. "Well, I don't know," he said, "I'll have to deprive some lovely, lonely ladies of my company." She playfully slapped him, and he immediately laughed again. "Sounds great. You want me to come up to your office after work? I wanted to get a look at it anyway."

She readily agreed before hurrying back to the floor where she now worked before she would be late. As usual, there were a few assignments on her desk, but nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Her good mood continued all the way to lunch time, but then some old trepidation started to surface. While she didn't really want to eat alone, the idea of eating and talking with Samuel again worried her slightly. She genuinely liked Samuel, and they had had a good conversation, but she also didn't want to purposely upset Michael. In truth, she wasn't sure how she would handle the situation as she took her familiar spot at the same lonely table.

As it turned out, it was a fruitless worry as Samuel never showed, but that didn't overly concern her. Agents often switched their lunch hours around if they had something they need to do at a specific time. At least, that had been true for Dispatch, and she assumed it could the same here. Not considering the matter deeply, she ate her lunch all alone once again.

She was heading back to the office when she overheard the gossip. Normally, she ignored gossip since so much was about her, but she had caught the name Samuel as she walked by. Trying not to be too obvious, she listened for a few more minutes and soon learned why she hadn't seen her new friend that day.

It appeared that Samuel had been transferred.