Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Do you recall that you’ll be taking over for me Slingby?”

“Aye.”

“Next week.”

“Aye.”

“Enduring longer hours than you’re used to.”

“Aye.”

Ronald watches the twitch of William’s eye before he pulls the ledger from under his arm, winds up and then, with a swift strike, Eric jumps as William thwacks him upside the head with it. Willliam’s expression is the most unimpressed Ronald’s ever seen from their superior. “Pay attention.”

Eric winces, his hand immediately shooting to the back of his head as he furiously rubs the spot where the ledger made contact. “I was!” he snaps, sending a seething glare towards William, “yer not deaf are ye? I was answerin’?”

“Repeating yourself without even looking at me does not count as so.” William responds sharply, his tone cold as always.

Eric rolls his eyes out of William’s direct line of sight before fully facing the other reaper. He folds his hands together and bats his eyelashes exaggeratedly, attempting to sound as posh and prim as he can. “I’m so sorry Mr. Spears. I’ll be sure to be a good boy while you’re gone, forced to leave my poor ailing husband at home all by himself.”

That earns him another smack but William doesn't rise anymore to the bait after that. Instead, his icy gaze flicks to Ronald, who suddenly straightens his posture, bracing for some kind of chastising, but it never comes. The air between them feels strange for some reason now, as if the lecture he was expecting was put on hold and William’s eyes aren’t as sharp as the older reaper looks at him. They’re almost… softer, if not just for a moment. “I want those papers done up to standard, Knox.” William says flatly. “I’ve heard there’s a ‘get-together’ tonight, and I do not want you rushing to finish your paperwork so you may join.”

A get-together. Of course Ronald knows what William’s talking about but this is one of the few times where Ronald’s not interested in going. Not that there’s anything wrong with a party of all guys, it’s just, not his scene, was all. “Don’t worry, sir! You know Knoxie’s good for doing everything he can to avoid overtime,” he says with a wink, tugging at the lapels of his jacket for flair. “I call it, the Knox Standard.”

William doesn’t even flinch at the attempt at humour. He simply raises an unimpressed eyebrow then gives Eric one final smack on the back of the head for good measure. “Now behave, Slingby. You’re on thin ice as it is.” With that, he turns and leaves the room without another word.

Once Ronald sees William’s out of sight, he can’t hold back his snicker, watching as Eric rubs the back of his head, wincing with each press of his hand. “You good?”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m fine,” Eric mutters, still grimacing as his fingers curl tighter around the cardboard coffee cup he’s been nursing all morning. “I know I shouldn’t take out my frustrations on Spears, but the Boad picks the shittiest time for him to fuck off for three months.” Eric's hands tense around the cup. “Somethin’ could happen to Alan while I’m not home.” The frustration in his voice is evident.

Ronald watches Eric for a moment, his eyes lingering on the tense lines of his friend’s posture. He can see the worry in Eric’s eyes, even though the guy tries to mask it with a rough exterior. “You can’t keep worrying like this, mate,” Ronald says softly, trying to offer some kind of reassurance while also reminding him, “Besides, something could happen at any time, regardless if Mr. Spears is here or not. I know you’re going to worry no matter what, but you’re not home with him right now, are you? And I bet when you get back at the end of your shift, he’ll be completely fine.” He places his hand on Eric’s shoulder. “Besides, he’s capable. He’s proven that. Sure, the thorns are rough, but Alan’s stronger than you remember sometimes.”

Eric looks at him, his eyes narrowing as if weighing whether it’s worth rushing home now to check on his lover but then he sighs and slowly nods, “Aye. You’re right.” He concedes. “I know the lad’s strong,” there's a clear ‘but’ on his lips, yet he stays silent, instead tapping the bottom of his cup on the table. “It’s not that I forget, I just know the lad doesn’t take the thorns seriously. He’s only being quiet this time because the Board put him on medical leave. The Board. Do you know how bad it’s gotten for the Board to step in and say something?”

Ronald’s eyes widen slowly. “The Board? I thought Mr. Spears stepped in?”

“When did Spears ever stop Alan before?” Eric sighs. “No. No, this time, the Board put him on forced medical leave. If even they’ve noticed, then it’s really bad.”

Eric’s right. It’s not often the Board gets involved in the intimate details of their reapers; not even the death of one of them makes them step down from their pedestal. The only time they had in recent years, Ronald wasn’t even born yet. It was an incident that was infamous across the entire realm, let alone London. When two reapers suddenly died with no explanation, leaving their child an orphan, that warranted a visit from the Board and despite the investigation, no answers were found, leaving the case unsolved and their son with a hole in his heart. “Shit…”

“Yeah. Exactly.”

Ronald hadn’t witnessed the attack that caused Alan to be placed on forced medical leave, but he can imagine the agony Alan must have endured if his usual attacks were anything to go by. “Well, okay, maybe it really is that bad, and no one’s saying you can’t worry, but thinking about it all the time isn’t good for you.” He nudges Eric’s shoulder. “Besides, you’re getting double pay for this. That’s nothing to sneeze at.”

Eric’s expression remains unchanged; he stares off into the distance. “No. It’s not.”

There’s nothing else Ronald could say to ease Eric’s tension. Despite how awful it must be for the older reaper to worry about his lover, there’s a part of Ronald that nearly envies him. To have someone you care for so deeply, to have someone you love beyond all comprehension. It’s almost funny watching Eric’s entire personality shift once he started to take his relationship with Alan seriously. He was a known flirt, a womaniser much like Ronald himself, but once Alan agreed to a date, all Eric could see was Alan. Sometimes, Ronald wishes for that feeling, but most of the time, he lies to himself, forcing himself to believe he’s too young, that he likes to keep his options open.

Eric shakes his head, snapping Ronald from his musings. He gulps down the rest of his cold coffee before standing. “I should go apologise to Spears before he saddles me with overtime.” He pauses, looking down at Ronald, offering the younger reaper a lopsided smile and ruffling his hair. “Thanks for listening to this old man whine.”

Ronald swats Eric’s hand away, his smile matching the older reaper’s. “You’re not old.”

“You wouldn’t believe how old I am. Even older than Spears by a good decade.”

Ronald snorts. “You saying Mr. Spears is old too?”

“Damn right he is. Just, don’t let him hear me say that.” Eric winks.

Ronald’s left alone in the courtyard after that, and he doesn’t see Eric for the rest of the day, which happens from time to time when their schedules conflict. By the end of his own shift, he figures Eric’s already gone home, so he gathers his finished paperwork and trudges up the nine flights of stairs to William’s office. He can’t speak for any of the other supervisors, but he guesses William enjoys the solitude and quiet that comes with the out-of-the-way location.

He stops in front of William’s door and knocks twice before he hears the command, “enter.”

The office is one of the dullest Ronald’s ever been in. The walls are the same stark white as the rest of the building, and there’s little to no colour. Even the brown of the hardwood floor feels bland–sterile. There’s nothing on the walls except a clock, and other than the phone, computer monitor, lamp, and the scattered paperwork, there’s nothing on William’s desk that adds any life to the room. “Looks like a busy night,” he comments, setting his stack of work in front of William. He expects some sort of snarky reply, but when he really takes a look at his boss, there’s something more bothering him than usual. William’s rubbing his fingers into his temples, his brows are pinched together, and he’s erratically tapping his index finger against the surface of the desk. Maybe a change of scenery would do William good. “You okay, sir?”

“I’ll be fine,” he responds curtly, lifting his head, his eyes focused on Ronald’s papers. He takes the top one from the pile, adjusting his glasses to read it over. Ronald stands there, feeling more tense than usual from the unsettling atmosphere in the office. He can practically feel William’s stress radiating from him. “There are a few mistakes I’d like you to correct, but otherwise, it’s passable.”

Ronald takes the paper William offers him, reading it over. Now he notices a few words are misspelled, a few letters in the wrong places, something he’s done many times before. He almost feels ashamed by the small errors, especially after he’d promised these papers would be done to the 'Knox standard'. “Damn,” he whispers to himself. “Yeah, I’ll redo them. Do you mind if I do them here?”

He expects William to force him to return to his office instead but to his surprise, William actually offers him a spare pen, “be quick,” he orders, returning to his work without another word.

Ronald takes a seat on one of the two armchairs in front of the desk, beginning to pick apart his own work, correcting each mistake he comes across and putting the letters in the right places. However, it’s hard to remain focused with William sitting across from him. It’s not often he gets to be this close to his boss, and it’s easy to see how much more distressed William is than usual. The lines under his eyes, the dark circles, and the scrunch of his brow all tell him as much. He hasn’t even stopped tapping his finger. “You sure you’re okay?”

“Yes.” His answers remain short and snappy.

Ronald’s hand comes to a halt, frowning as William hasn’t even spared him a glance when he spoke. “You’re really worried about leaving, right?”

William doesn’t immediately reply. Instead, he focuses on finishing whatever document he’s working on before setting his pen down, perfectly straight and directly in the centre of the page. “Perceptive of you.”

He hears the sarcasm but knows he’s hit the mark. “Why? Don’t trust Eric to take your place?”

“On the contrary,” William replies, reclining slightly in his chair, “I trust Slingby as one of the few reapers for this position. It’s more the idea of leaving for three months that has me on edge.”

Ronald tries to focus on correcting his work as he asks his questions, not wanting to waste William’s time. “What’s this meeting for anyway?”

“A gathering of minds, you could say. It’s a meeting where supervisors convene to discuss potential changes within our collective districts, but it will be a waste of time. The Board always dismisses any new ideas, and I seem to be the only one who realises there is no point in discussing things that will not change.” William picks up his pen, tapping the tip lightly against the very top of the paper. “Besides that, Humphries is still on medical leave. While I am grateful we are no longer understaffed, having one reaper unavailable and Slingby working double the hours is bound to affect productivity.” His fingers return to his temple, pressing harder. A long silence settles before he speaks again. “Slingby should be taking care of his partner anyhow.”

Ronald sees the regret on William’s face, one of the only emotions, besides the usual annoyance, that he’s ever witnessed from the man. “It’s not your fault the Board’s making you go,” Ronald offers. 

“I’m aware of that, Knox,” William replies, glaring at him over the top rim of his glasses.  Ronald hears the impatience in his voice, so he lowers his head and focuses on fixing his mistakes. William starts tapping his finger again, but this time, the rhythm is slower, more deliberate, no longer the rapid, irritated beat from before.

Eventually, once twenty minutes have ticked by, Ronald deems he’s corrected every error he could find, “here. Done.” he stands up, handing over the corrected pages. “Hopefully, it passes Spears’ quality control.” He winks, hoping to lighten the mood.

William remains unamused as he plucks the paper from Ronald’s hand. It feels like an excruciatingly long moment before he finally sets it down. “I reiterate, it’s passable.” he states flatly. “Now, if that is all, I’d appreciate it if you left so I may finish my own work in peace.”

“Right, right.” Ronald steps towards the door, flashing a grin over his shoulder. “G’night, sir. Try not to stay up too late.”

Just as he pulls the door open, William speaks again, saying something Ronald hasn’t heard from anyone in a long time. “You’ve done well as of late, Knox. Keep it up.”

Warmth blossoms in Ronald’s chest at those words; butterflies stir in his stomach. It’s not just what William said, but how he said it. There’s an unfamiliar gentleness to his voice, subtle yet undeniable. Ronald glances back, but William has already returned to his work, his face unreadable–except for a faint, almost unnoticeable pinch of pain. He wants to ask, but he knows he won’t get an answer. Instead, he finally steps out, closing the door behind him.

Even as he descends the stairs, that fuzzy feeling doesn’t leave. A compliment from William? Why? Especially after making such stupid mistakes. Was it pity? No–William would have told him to shape up instead. So, did he actually mean it? Was it meant to be motivational? Because if that were the case, it worked. He’s going to keep working hard just to continue to prove to William that he’s a cable reaper, to earn his…adoration? Ronald freezes on the last step. No. No, just because William gave him a compliment, it didn’t mean he needed to prove himself. He’s obviously doing just fine as he is. He’ll continue to work hard for himself and not anyone else.

Once he reaches the ground floor, Ronald debates heading home and ordering something in, when a very familiar redhead storms out of the break room. She glares down at her phone, tapping the screen with such force he swears her nails might crack it. Seeing as he might need to be on damage control, he slides up to her with ease, slinging an arm around her shoulders. “Woah, what happened?”  

“The prick from accounting!” she growls, aggressively sending one last message before shoving her phone into her pocket. “He never showed up for our date! The one he asked me on! And then he had the balls to tell me he was ‘busy’!” She shifts her weight onto her right leg, resting a hand on her hip. “Where have all the good men gone?! Eric’s taken, and Will’s as cold as the day we met!” With a dramatic sigh, she sinks back against the wall, tossing the back of her hand against her forehead. “Not even Bassy is around to chase anymore.”

It’s not the first time she’s thrown this pity party, especially since Eric popped the question. Ronald still doesn’t understand the need to be official with someone. Why put all that effort and energy into something that could fall apart in seconds? How many times had it looked like Eric and Alan were on the verge of completely ending things? “Hey, you’ll find someone! Can’t all be knobs, right?” he says, giving her shoulder a reassuring pat.

“They very well might all be!” she huffs before throwing herself against him, yanking him into a vice-like hug. “I’m a passionate, fiery woman who needs a prince to keep me warm on those cold nights! To be sure my flame never dies!” Then, predictably, she shifts gears. “Mmm, or a prince with cold eyes who could tame my fire and have me tied down to do whatever he pleases with!”

Ronald rolls his eyes. “You’re really never gonna give up on Mr. Spears, are you?”

“How could I?!” She shoves Ronald away, shivering at her own fantasy as she runs her hands up and down her arms. “I’ve never met another man with such a piercing stare! It freezes me to my very core!” And then she says something he absolutely hadn’t been expecting. “Oooh! I bet his father could induce the very same feeling! He’s the best of both worlds, Ronnie! The cold, icy, unforgiving stare of Will, with the combined looks of Eric and Will!” She sighs dreamily, her shoulders drooping. “If he weren’t so loyal to that wife of his, I’d have a go at him in a heartbeat.”

Ronald slowly tilts his head. “His wife? So…Mr. Spears’ mum?” The thought of William having to call Grell ‘mother’ is something Ronald isn’t sure is hilarious or horrifying. “Yeeeah. Pretty sure Mr. Spears would have a thing or two to say about that.”

She pouts. “Did you have to ruin my fun?”

“A little.” He grins, pinching the air between his fingers. “Anyway, I finally finished my work for the day, so I’ll be your date for the night!” He offers her his arm. “Can’t get better than me, right?”

“I suppose not.” She laughs, looping her arms around his elbow.

It’s their usual routine–whenever Grell’s dates fall through, Ronald picks up the pieces. He’s done it more times than she’d probably care to admit, but he doesn’t mind. Sometimes, he even helps her find a more deserving date and sends her off with whatever handsome lad catches her eye. That’s how he expects tonight to go.  

However, once they’re settled at their table with drinks in hand, something feels…different. He can’t put his finger on it, but the feeling weighs heavy in his chest. He tries not to let it ruin the night, but Grell catches on to his unusual quietness. “Are you feeling alright, darling?”

He considers telling her that something feels off but decides against it. Tonight is about cheering Grell up, not whatever strange guilt is creeping in. So instead, he flashes a smile he hopes doesn’t look too forced. “I’m fine,” he promises. “Besides! I’m here for you.”

“That doesn’t mean I’ll completely ignore my date!” She playfully smacks his shoulder. “Are you sure you’re alright, Ron?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m sure, Grell.” He lifts his glass. “How about we toast to finally being off work and enjoying good company?”

She still looks skeptical but humors him, raising her glass to clink against his. “Cheers.” She takes a sip, exhaling in content. “Well, I do have to say, after that prick nearly ruined my evening, it’s nice to be out with someone who actually knows how to treat a woman right.”

Ronald chuckles, swirling his drink in his glass. “What can I say? Seeing a lady treated poorly bothers me. Especially when she’s as lovely as you.”

She smiles wide, resting her chin on her palm as she leans in. “You’re a cute little thing, you know that?”

He feigns offense, gasping as he places a hand over his heart. “Excuse me?! Cute?! I’m the most handsome man in Dispatch!”

Grell laughs, shaking her head as she picks up her glass again. “Oh, Ronnie. I’m sure the woman who catches you for good will be a lucky one.”

His playful act fades as he returns her smile–brief but genuine–before his gaze drifts back to the dark liquid in his glass. He used to think so too but then he remembers that fuzzy feeling he’d gotten from William’s compliment, and the guilt sinks deeper in his stomach.

Why guilt? Is it because he’s here instead of throwing himself into extra work, even though there’s no overtime? Or is it because of those butterflies from earlier? No. That’s ridiculous. He’d only felt that way because it was rare praise about his work, not because William himself had said it.

Of course not.  

Absolutely…not.

********************

“Alan, ye home?!”

It’s later than Eric intended to be back, and the long hours are already weighing on him. By the time he wrapped up his usual paperwork, plus the additional files William wanted him to review, it was already past ten. “Where else would I be?” comes Alan’s reply as he emerges from the kitchen, cradling a cup of hot tea in his hands. “I’ve been barred from working, remember?”

The disdain in his voice is as clear as the frustration on his face. Alan’s hated every second of this enforced rest. Ever since the Board issued his medical leave, he’s been beyond eager to get back to work but everyone knew this time off was necessary–the last attack was the worst Eric had ever seen.

It’s not a memory he likes to dwell on. The sight of Alan lying in a hospital bed, weight dropping off him–it still makes his stomach twist. The doctors had outright said he was lucky to be alive. Near the end of Alan’s hospital stay, William had walked in and served him with the official leave papers. Of course, Alan fought it every step of the way, Eric needing to get on his knees and beg him to take this time seriously and thankfully, that had done the trick.

Now, two months later, Alan looks healthier. The color has returned to his skin, and he’s put some of the lost weight back on. It’s obvious rest was the right call. “Love, it’s not gonna be forever.” Eric says, slipping off his coat.

“No, but with William going away, I’ll have to wait even longer.” Alan takes a sip of his tea, visibly trying to keep his annoyance in check. “He won’t be here to sign my release forms.”

Eric crosses his arms, barely suppressing the urge to roll his eyes. “Yer not in prison, Al. An extra month won’t kill ye.”

“But I’ve already been away from the office for two.” Alan pouts over the rim of his cup, shooting Eric a look. Eric meets it head-on, and after a long stare-down, Alan sighs dramatically. “Fine. I won’t complain.” A pause. “Much.”

Eric narrows his eyes. “Alan.”

The smaller reaper takes another sip of his tea, his expression carefully serious, until a smile finally breaks through. “I’m only kidding, I promise.” Then, as quickly as it appeared, the smile fades, his voice dropping to a whisper. “I understand now...just how serious it was this time.”

Eric doesn’t hesitate. He wraps his arms around Alan, pulling him in as close as possible. “Hey, look at me.” Slowly, Alan does. He sees the fear and worry Alan usually keeps hidden but tonight, in his arms, Alan lets himself be vulnerable. “I know it feels like everything’s shite right now, but you're gettin’ better.” Eric strokes his hand up and down Alan’s side, reassuring him with touch and words. “Ye told me the thorns wouldn’t win, right?”

“I did.”

“And they haven’t.” Eric cups Alan’s face, his thumbs brushing over his cheekbones. “Any lesser lad woulda died that day, but you didn’t. You’re proving to everyone what I’ve always known–you're stronger than all this. The thorns fuckin’ suck, aye, and I wish I could do somethin’, anything, to take ’em away, but ye keep pushin’ through.”

Alan’s hand comes up to rest over Eric’s, his fingers curling gently around one. A smile begins to creep back onto his lips and Eric mirrors it, just a little, before pulling Alan into his chest again. Alan presses in as close as he can, his free arm sliding around Eric’s back, fingers clutching at his shirt as he closes his eyes and just breathes. No matter how hopeless he’s felt about his damnable sickness, Eric always makes him believe he can overcome the impossible. “You’re right. I know you are.” His voice is quiet, but steady now.

Eric holds him even tighter, and Alan lets himself soak up the warmth of it for as long as he can but eventually, he knows they have to move on. Standing here in each other’s arms isn’t going to get anything productive done. “Enough about me,” Alan finally says, gently stepping back, though he doesn’t go far. He offers Eric a more genuine smile this time. “Tell me how work went.”

Eric sighs, tipping his head back dramatically. “Tedious.” He pulls Alan right back in, resting his chin on the top of his head. Alan doesn’t resist. He never does, not when it’s Eric. “I’m not looking forward to Spears leaving,” he mutters.

Alan clicks his tongue. “No, I don’t think anyone is.” A pause, then, softer, “and I’m not looking forward to you being under even more stress than usual.”

Eric turns his head slightly, breathing in the scent of Alan’s hair–strawberries today. A surprise, since Alan usually favors more floral scents. “I’m not worried about the work,” he admits. “I’m more worried about you.”

Alan doesn’t even need to ask why. They both know. “Well, don’t be.” He pulls back just enough to meet Eric’s gaze. “You just said it yourself. I’m stronger than they think I am, right?”

Eric exhales, his grip on Alan tightening just slightly. “Aye…”

“Then that’s all the reassurance you need.” Alan pulls away but not completely, grabbing Eric’s hand instead, lacing their fingers together. “Now come and have some tea. That should help settle your nerves.”

Eric lets himself be dragged toward the kitchen, taking his time to admire Alan’s smaller frame. Even before the thorns, Alan had always been on the smaller side, something that made it all the more comical that he had the temper of a lit fuse. He’d carried out threats before, knocking in the teeth of those who pushed him too far. “Aye, ye’re right. Tea sounds like a good idea.” Eric agrees as Alan pours him a cup but the moment the cup is in his hands, the lukewarm drink is gone in a single gulp.

Alan rolls his eyes. “You know, you could’ve warmed it up if it was cold.”

“Honestly, just needed the caffeine.” Eric smirks, setting the empty cup down next to Alan’s. “Now, there’s somethin’ else I need. Something far more potent than tea.”

Alan cocks his hip, tapping his cheek in feigned thought. “Hmm, I wonder what that could be.”

Eric slips his arms around Alan’s waist, swaying with his lover, “I’d say, more of a ‘who’.”

“A who ?” Alan continues playing dumb, placing his hand over his mouth in mock surprise, “whoever could that be? It couldn’t possibly be–gasp! Me, could it?”

Eric chuckles, his eyes shining with fondness for the man he’s looking at. “Ah surprise! It is ye, hen.”

“Then why don’t you go get ready for bed while I clean up?” Alan suggests, resting his hands on Eric’s chest.

“Mm, I could. Or…”

Alan barely has time to react before–”Gah!” Eric hoists him over his shoulder with ease. “Eric! Put me down!”

“I will! When I get ya where I want ya.” He hears the smirk in Eric’s voice. He sighs dramatically, smacking him lightly on the back but Eric doesn’t falter, carrying him with effortless strength until he finally deposits Alan onto their bed with a gentle bounce. “Ah. Perfect.”

Alan’s cheeks flare red as Eric looms over him, hunger in his eyes. He crosses his arms and turns away. “I could have walked, you know.”

“I know.” Eric drops beside him on the bed, easily pulling the younger reaper into his arms for a third time that night. “But where’s the fun in that?” Eric murmurs, pressing a kiss to the top of Alan’s head. “Mm. Perfect. Just what I needed.”

Alan melts into him, just as eager to be held as Eric is to hold him. He presses himself closer, committing every second of this to memory. With William leaving, Eric would soon be too busy, too overworked to indulge in quiet moments like this, so for now, Alan lets himself sink into Eric’s warmth. There’s a comfort in the silence that surrounds them–a moment of just existing after spending the day apart. Just them, their home, and their love.  

Alan recalls the first time he got to experience this, the first night he’d moved in with Eric. That night was silent, not even nature made a peep. It was exactly like this. He still treasures that memory. “Have you eaten yet?” he asks eventually, absentmindedly playing with the tip of Eric’s loose tie.

“Yeah, I did.” Eric’s voice is thick with exhaustion after spending most of his evening at a desk. “Spears ordered kebabs for us while he ran me through the checklist.”

Alan pauses, blinking. “He actually ate that?”

“Yeah…well, he picked off a few chips.”

Alan huffs a soft laugh. “That sounds more like him.” letting go of Eric’s tie, he burrows in closer. “Well? Do you think you’re ready then?”

Eric gently runs his fingers up and down Alan’s spine, trying to convince himself that yes, he is. Instead, he sighs. “I hope so.” he nuzzles his nose back into Alan’s hair. “It’s a lotta weight on my shoulders, but like Ronald said. Double the pay is nothin’ to sneeze at.”

“He’s right. It’s not.”

Eric gives Alan a gentle squeeze then stretches his arms over his head. “I am ready for bed though. Bloody knackered.”

“You deserve some sleep.” Alan agrees, though he makes no effort to move. Instead, he just presses himself closer, not that Eric’s trying to move either. He keeps rubbing slow, soothing circles on Alan’s back, both of them sinking deeper and deeper into the comfort of their embrace. “We should get ready for bed then.”

“Aye. We should.”

Yet neither of them move. Neither lets go of the other. Sleep comes easily, and as Eric drifts off with Alan safe in his arms, he doubts he could ever be happier than he is in this moment. 

Chapter Text

It’s been a month since William’s been gone. It took about a week for Eric to settle into his temporary position and another for him to rein in control. While the older reapers understand how this process works, having been in dispatch the rare times William has had to leave London, there are newer, younger reapers who assume Eric will remain as Eric. Ronald is one of them, not expecting Eric’s personality to shift so drastically but the first day he arrives to retrieve his death list, the change is glaringly obvious.

Eric is stern, straight to the point, barely offering Ronald even a hint of the old Eric beneath this William-like shell. Only after hours, does Eric apologise for being a bit too harsh. Ronald understands the necessity of the change; William is the only buffer between the entirety of dispatch and the Board. If Eric messes up, it reflects poorly on William, and that would mean a Council Representative stepping in and no one wants that. In fact, Ronald is fairly certain William would fire Eric on the spot if it ever came to that.

William. It is not the first time the older reaper has wandered into Ronald’s mind since his departure. He has been keeping busy, offering to help Eric where he can, which, in reality, just means completing his own paperwork along with Alan’s but no matter how much he tries to keep his mind busy, William always manages to slip to the forefront of his thoughts.

You’ve done well as of late.

Even after correcting a few mistakes, William had said that. He is not one to give compliments freely, so it must have meant something, but what? What had Ronald done to warrant such praise? Not only that–there was something about the way he had said it. A softness, a warmth that still sends butterflies fluttering in his stomach for whatever reason. “Man, Eric’s really being a jackass lately.”

Ronald is doing his best to finish up the last bit of his paperwork before passing it off to that very reaper, but his so-called mates are making it increasingly difficult to focus. They found him to invite him out–some party that includes all of general affairs–and while he would usually jump at the chance to mingle and drink, he does not want to let Eric, and, by association William, down. “He’s under a lot of stress,” Ronald counters, adding another paper to the finished pile.

“Doesn’t mean he’s got to be a prick,” says another of his mates, half-perched on his desk.

“Come on, Ron, why are you stuck with Humphries’ work anyway?”

“I’m not ‘stuck’ with anything. I offered to help, and this is what Eric said I could do.” Ronald explains, trying his best not to rush through the last few pages.

“Maybe Humphries is lucky he’s on medical leave. Doesn’t have to deal with this new bullshit.”

“You kidding? Slingby would treat him like a princess. No work for dainty, delicate Alan.”

Ronald’s grip tightens on his pen. He takes a deep breath, gathering his patience before forcing himself to power through the remainder of his work. It is moments like this that make him question why he keeps these two around. However, the answer is simple: they’re good at getting invites to some of the better parties in dispatch. That’s it. Besides, all he needs to do is mention that someone has been speaking ill of Alan, and Eric will take care of it. Then again, if Alan were here, Ronald would not even have to involve Eric at all. Alan would handle it himself. It’s always surprising to see how much strength Alan still possesses, despite everything the thorns have done to him. “Right, I’m done, and I’m going to get these to Eric,” Ronald announces, practically leaping from his seat and gathering the papers into a neat pile. “I’ll see you two later. The sooner I get these in, the sooner I can get to that party.”

He slips out of his office, exhaling a relieved sigh as he puts distance between himself and them. Had he called them mates before? More like acquaintances–especially when Eric or Grell aren’t around.

Ascending the staircase, Ronald skips every other step, reaching William’s office in no time. His energy surges as he knows his freedom lies behind this door. Without bothering to knock, he swings it open, lifting the stack of papers toward the ceiling as if presenting a great gift. “I’ve done it! Every page done to–oh.” To his surprise, not only is Eric absent from the desk, but Alan is asleep in one of the two armchairs facing it. With an elbow propped up on the armrest, his cheek rests on his fist, his chest rising and falling evenly with each breath. As far as Ronald knew, Alan was blacklisted from the office until his medical leave was up.

Tiptoeing toward the desk, Ronald sets the stack of papers down, pondering whether to wake the smaller male. Alan is clearly here for a reason, and perhaps when he arrived, Eric was gone. Maybe he is waiting to relay a message to the older reaper? Ronald could play messenger so Alan could return home and sleep in a far more comfortable bed than this chair. “Alan?” he whispers, gently nudging Alan’s shoulder. “Hey. Al.” Alan jerks awake, startling Ronald, who jumps back as though shocked. Alan quickly scans the room, fingers clutching desperately at the fabric of the chair, eyes darting about before he takes a deep breath, settles back, and rubs his hand over his forehead. “You okay?!”

Alan pauses, snapping his attention to Ronald, his cheeks flushing pink. “Oh, ah, yes. I’m fine.” he says, sitting up straighter and rubbing the back of his neck. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“Yeah, well, as long as you’re okay…”

“I am, I promise. I just didn’t plan on falling asleep.” He chuckles, offering Ronald an apologetic smile. “I do appreciate you waking me, though. If Eric caught me sleeping after I protested that I was more than able to sit and wait for him to finish his work, I wouldn’t hear the end of it!”

Ronald leans against the desk, crossing his arms. “How long have you been here?”

“Mmm…an hour or two? Like I said, I wanted to come down and keep Eric company,” Alan’s smile slips into a more strained one. “And if I stayed inside our home for another minute, I’d go stir crazy.”

Ronald can only imagine. “Didn’t Eric ban you from work?” he jokes.

“Technically,” Alan responds with a shrug, “but it’s not like he has the time to drag me all the way back home.”

Alan looks proud of himself, and Ronald grins in return. “So, I take it you walked here?”

“I did. It felt nice to get some exercise,” Alan says, stretching out one leg and running his hand up and down his shin. “I was getting sore from sitting around all day. I think I’ll add a daily walk to my schedule now that Eric’s not around to chastise me for ‘overexerting’ myself.”

Ronald barely suppresses a frown. Alan, despite what the thorns try to do, still tries to stay active. He’s flexible, fast, and, despite his appearance, has great upper body strength. He’s never been one to sit still, so Ronald sympathises with the torment Alan must have felt when told to do just that. “Then I’ve gotta ask, how are you feeling?”

“I’ve felt worse,” Alan answers honestly. “Although I’m not completely out of the woods. Every now and then, I get small jabs of pain in my arms or chest, but I’m feeling aeons better than I was even just months ago, and the pain is really a once-in-a-blue-moon occurrence.”

Given how severe Alan’s thorn attack had been, Ronald isn’t surprised. He hadn’t seen Alan until a few weeks later after he’d had it, when he felt well enough to have visitors. He had, however, witnessed the devastation the thorns could cause. Considering this attack had been the worst yet, he can only imagine what it must have actually looked like. “Well, you look like you’re feeling better!” he says, trying to lift the mood again.

“Eric said the same. Even Grell mentioned it when I saw her in the lobby, which, coming from her, must mean something.” Alan laughs, and Ronald’s smile widens; it’s true. With their frenemy relationship, Grell often spoke less kindly about Alan than she did about her other friends, and vice versa. So, for her to offer Alan any sort of compliment surely meant good things. 

“Did Mr. Spears see you before he left?”

Alan sighs, shaking his head. “No, but I can’t say I’m terribly surprised. With everything that needed to be done, including having to train Eric, he would have been far too busy to worry about me before his trip.” He waves a dismissive hand. “Besides, all he would have done is either worry about my condition or complain about the trip or, even worse, the Board. The Board this, the Board that. I mean, I understand they’re stuffy old bellends, but I swear, he goes on about them more than he goes on about Grell!”

Ronald snorts with amusement, leaning back on his hands, which are placed on the desk behind him. “Uh huh. I don’t know how you put up with him.”

Alan’s face falls after that, his eyes darting away from Ronald as his fingers nervously pick at the hem of his sweater’s sleeve. “Eric’s told me you’ve been a big help.”

Ronald inwardly winces. No one knows the full story about what happened between William and Alan, but Alan mentioned it was rough, so of course, he had to be an idiot and bring up their relationship. “Uh, yeah!” he quickly tries to steer the conversation back to a lighter tone. “I’ve been doing more paperwork than I’ve ever done in my life, and the overtime sucks, but what kind of best mate would I be if I let Eric suffer with Mr. Spears’, his, and yours?”

“Well, he’s impressed, Ronald, and truthfully, so am I.” Alan leans forward to touch Ronald’s arm. “I knew you were working hard, but I wasn’t aware just how much you were going out of your way to help.”

Ronald feels himself blushing from the praise. It’s not the same warm feeling he got when William complimented him, but it still makes him feel good inside. “Yeah, well, just thought he could use the help,” he shrugs, trying to play off his deed.

The smile Alan gives him only makes his cheeks redder. “Thank you, Ronald. Really. I know Eric doesn’t get as ‘mushy’ as I do, but it means a lot to me–to both of us–that you’re helping out as much as you are. When William comes back, and I can convince Eric that a night out won’t kill him, I want you two to go out and have fun like you used to.” He squeezes Ronald’s bicep. “And you’ll put the tab on me.”

Ronald’s mouth drops open. “Seriously?”

“I am,” Alan assures, seeing Ronald’s eyes light up. “I know Eric’s been a bit too focused on me lately,”

“For good reason.”

Alan rolls his eyes. “Regardless, I want to remind him that he still has friends. Namely you. You both deserve some time away from work and responsibility for a night. Does that sound good?”

Immediately, Ronald launches himself at Alan, enveloping the smaller male in the tightest hug he can muster. It’s probably the best reward he could have asked for. Everyone knows where Eric stands, that Alan will nearly always come first, so for Alan himself to recognise that Eric’s been a bit single-minded lately, is a relief. Having the old Eric back for just one night? He couldn’t ask for anything better. “It sounds great, Al!”

Alan returns the embrace, stroking his hand gently over Ronald’s back. “I’m glad, because you really do deserve it.”

Ronald can’t help the broad smile that spreads across his face as he pulls away from Alan. Plans begin to swirl through his mind. “Thanks.”

“You don’t need to thank me.”

“Yeah, well, I will anyway.”

“Alright.” Alan chuckles, leaning back in his chair. Ronald is about to make a comment about how he should probably get going–how if he hurries, maybe he can still catch some of the party he’s been invited to, then go home and crash before another long day–but then William’s unoccupied desk catches his attention. “You know you shouldn’t,” Alan warns him as he walks behind the desk.

“Why not? What’s the harm?”

“You could see something you’re not meant to.”

“Like what?!” Ronald turns the leather chair toward him before carefully sitting down, almost as if the chair might eject him for not being authorised to use it. “Oh wow. This is nice.” he sighs, slouching into the seat.

“I should hope so.” Alan comments, crossing his arms. “Someone does have to sit there for hours on end.”

“Beats the old things we’ve gotta use, that’s for sure.”

“They’re not old.”

“They’re old , Alan. We really need some new office equipment.”

“Have you asked William about it?”

Ronald looks at Alan, confused. “No? I didn’t realise he was someone I would talk to about it.”

Alan raises an eyebrow. “And how else do you expect anyone to follow up on these concerns?”

Ronald’s mouth opens, then quickly snaps shut as he realises, “oh…yeah. Good point.”

Alan puts a hand to his temple and shakes his head. “Goodness, Ronald.”

“What?! I thought, I dunno, there’d be a satisfaction survey every now and then.”

“And you’ve been in dispatch for how long?!”

“Too long…” he mutters.

“Exactly.”

Ronald makes a point to turn the chair directly toward the computer, almost blocking Alan from his view entirely. “So, what about this then? What’s the computer for? Mr. Spears is the only one who has one.”

“As far as I was told,” Alan begins, “it’s really just something to help keep the Board informed. William can send up information about who should be promoted or demoted, severe demon hot spots, soul data...it even holds the digitised profiles of all of us.”

“Huh.” Ronald stares at the black screen, then presses the spacebar on the keyboard. Unsurprisingly, he’s greeted with a password screen. “So, you, uh, wouldn’t happen to know the password, would–?”

“No. No, absolutely not. You are not having access to anything on that computer.”

“So you do!”

“Ronald.”

An over dramatic sigh escapes him as he slouches back into the chair. “Fine.” He rotates the chair to face forward, quickly scanning the papers Eric has left scattered across the desk. He glances at Alan before straightening up and folding his hands on top of the desk, clearing his throat. “Ahem. Humphries, I require those papers that you’ve failed to deliver today.”

Alan arches an eyebrow. “Is that your William impression?”

“Was it that bad?”

“Mmm, it was alright, though he’s more posh than that, and his tone is higher as well.”

Ronald nods, clears his throat again, and tries a second time. “Alan Humphries, thou hast forgotten thyne paperwork that was to be delivered yester.” He looks proud of himself as he finishes the sentence. “Well?”

Alan chuckles. “Okay. Too posh. The tone was better, though.”

“You think you could do better?”

“Oh no. I can’t do impressions. I just know that after spending three years with someone, you tend to pick up on some of the intricacies of their voice.”

“You spent three years together?” Ronald’s surprise is evident, and Alan’s reaction makes him immediately regret asking.

He looks taken aback, as though the question has slapped him across the face, realising too late what he’d just said. He turns his head away, obviously debating whether or not to answer. After a pause, he speaks, his voice soft. “Yes. We did. He’s a much different man when you get to know him.” Another pause. “Well, mostly . At work, he’s still just the same reaper you know.”

“You know, I’m surprised by that.” Ronald leans forward on his arms, eager to seize the opportunity. “And now I have questions.”

Alan takes a deep breath, locking eyes with Ronald again, offering a semi-forced smile. “Oh boy. What kind?”

“You knew Mr. Spears on a personal level! Obviously, I want details! So let’s start easy. Favourite food?”

“That depends on what I think he wouldn’t kill me for telling anyone.” Alan taps his chin thoughtfully.

“What’s so secretive about food?!”

“Now, see, if I answer that, I’d be giving away said secret.”

“C’mon, please?” Ronald tries pulling the puppy dog eyes but they don’t seem to work on Alan. “I promise I won’t tell anyone!”

“Sorry, Ronald, but I’m keeping William’s secrets between him and I.”

“But Alan! I’m your best friend!” Ronald adds with a dramatic pout, but Alan just gives him a deadpan look. “...I’m your husband’s best friend!”

“I’m still not telling you anything! He has a right to his secrets!”

“Secrets? What secrets? Yer not hidin’ anything from me, are ya?”

Ronald jumps to his feet just as Alan glances over his shoulder, following Eric who walks into the room and stands beside his chair. Eric doesn’t look as exhausted as Ronald’s gotten used to seeing, but the older reaper still seems far more worn out than usual. 

“No, of course not,” Alan replies, taking Eric’s hand. With ease, Eric pulls him up, and Alan stands with a small smile. “I was only telling Ronald that...that William has his own secrets, and I’m sure he trusts me enough not to tell anyone.”

Eric slips his arms around Alan’s waist, trying to ease Alan’s sudden tension with a warm embrace. “Well, alright. So long as ye don’t tell Ron any of our dirty little secrets either.” He winks at Ronald, a playful glint in his eyes.

Ronald instantly puts up his hands as he rounds the front of the desk. “No thanks! I only wanted to know about Mr. Spears because he’s Mr. Spears. Alan’s probably the only person who even knows what his favourite colour is.”

“Blue,” Alan answers easily. “His favourite colour is blue, and yes, blue is very dashing on him.”

“Blue?” For a split second, Ronald’s mind wanders, imagining it. “Yeah…yeah, I can see him in blue.”

Eric gives Alan a sly look and grins. “Ye think about Spears often?”

Ronald rolls his eyes. “No.”

“Uh huh. Sure.”

“Is there something you’re not telling us?” Alan adds on to the teasing.

The blush that rises on Ronald’s face is uncontrollable, and he suddenly wants to crawl under the desk. “Come off it!”

“Ooo! Ronnie’s gettin’ mad!” Eric continues.

“I am not! And I don’t got a crush on Mr. Spears either!”

Eric's grin widens, clearly enjoying the moment. “Who said anything about a crush?”

Ronald’s face burns even more. “No one.”

“Awe, does Knoxie have a crush on the boss?!”

“I do not!” Ronald protests, now wishing for the ground to swallow him up.

“This is the first time I’m hearin’ about you havin’ a thing for another lad!” Eric continues, the playful edge never leaving his tone.

“Sod off!” Ronald exclaims, his embarrassment hitting its peak.

“Eric.” Alan whispers, placing a calming hand on Eric’s shoulder. “If Ronald gets any redder, he’ll combust. I think you can tone down the teasing for now.”

Ronald feels the heat radiating down his neck, his fists clenched so tightly that his nails dig into his palms. It’s a reaction completely out of his control, and he’s more than thankful Alan seems to notice before he reacts further. Eric now notices the tension in the room and realises that his teasing wasn’t received as playfully by Ronald as he intended. “Shite,” Eric sighs, looking apologetic. “I’m sorry, lad.”

Ronald takes a few deep breaths, forcing himself to unclench his fists. “Yeah…yeah, it’s fine.” Alan looks between the two, then shifts closer to Ronald’s side, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. It’s a touch that Ronald wasn’t expecting but appreciates more than he thought he would. His eyes ask the question for him, and Ronald nods, giving a small smile. “I’m okay, Alan.” He gently brushes Alan’s hand off his shoulder and looks back at Eric. “So, where’d you go anyway?”

Eric rubs the back of his head, torn between offering another apology or changing the subject. Thankfully, he chooses the latter. “Had to nip down to spectacles. Me own were sliding down my nose a bit too much fer my likin’.”

Alan squeezes Ronald’s shoulder before standing by Eric again, reaching up to adjust the slight tilt of Eric’s glasses. “Have I ever told you how much this style suits you?”

“A few times.”

“Good, because they suit you splendidly.”

Eric takes Alan’s hand and kisses the palm of it. “Thank ye, love.” He glances back at Ronald. “Now, why are you still here, Ron? I heard there’s a party happening tonight. I’m surprised ye didn’t head for it.”

“I was dropping off my paperwork.” Ronald answers, scratching the back of his head. “Then I saw Alan was here, so I kept him company until you came back.”

“Awe, well thank ye.” Eric pulls Alan into his body, pressing his other hand to Alan’s lower back. “Didn’t want me hen to be lonely.”

Alan pushes away from Eric, looking unimpressed. “Enough of that. You’re the one who ordered me to rest, so you can keep your wandering hands to yourself.”

“Ack. If it ain’t the consequences of me own actions.” Eric groans before settling Alan with a kiss and then opening the door wider. “Right, now that my duties are taken care of, why don’t we go home and I’ll make us a nice dinner?”

“Mmmm, dinner sounds lovely.” Alan moans at the thought of Eric’s cooking again. With the older reaper being as swamped as he is with all the extra work, he’s had no time to make either of them a proper, warm meal. All Alan’s been relying on is cold leftovers and takeaway.

Seeing how welcoming Eric is to Alan, holding his hand out for his husband to take, the affectionate look they share, and the kiss Alan places on Eric’s cheek bothers Ronald. Maybe it’s because he’s reminded that he doesn’t have someone to go home to or a nice warm meal that someone’s made for him. He’s alone. “Right, I’ll see you tomorrow then, Eric.” He tries to smile. “Gonna see if I can make it to this party and if not, I’ll just crash on the couch with some Chinese or something.”

Eric stops. He looks at Ronald’s almost pitiful face before turning his gaze to Alan, silently asking for permission. Alan smiles and nods. “Well, if ye don’t feel like doin’ any of that, wanna join us for dinner?”

Ronald’s face brightens. “Really?!”

Eric laughs, and from the corner of his eye, he sees Alan’s soft gaze directed at the younger blond. “Aye! The more the merrier!”

In the blink of an eye, Ronald’s spinning Alan around and shoving him out of the office and down the hall. “Let’s go! I’m bloody starved!”

“Oi! No need to push!”

Eric chuckles to himself, closing and locking the door behind him.

********************

Weeks turn into another month, and Ronald finally finds some semblance of routine. He really can’t wait for the day he and Eric can go out again, especially with Alan footing the bill. Just the thought of that day keeps his spirits high enough to push through the mountains of seemingly endless paperwork. They’ll head to a fancier pub with better liquor and music. These pubs often attract better company too, but that’s something that only applies to him. Eric may have been many things, but he wasn’t a cheat, he’d rather cut off his own hand than ever sleep with anyone behind Alan’s back. Ronald can’t even count on his fingers how many propositions Eric has turned down, which does leave Ronald as the rebound, but he can’t say he minds too much.

The minute hand on his watch ticks slowly, 5:30 not far off now. He thinks he’s done a good job today; he’s finished his collections as well as the paperwork for both him and Alan. He’s been working nonstop these past few weeks, and he feels he deserves even the smallest of rewards, which means clocking out at the usual time.

The moment 5:30 arrives, Ronald is on his feet, eager to get home, change into something more comfortable, and enjoy a night out. Grell texted him earlier, asking if he’d be up for bar hopping while doubling as her wingman. She had raved about the last man he helped set her up with, so he’s willing to believe he’s as good as she says. Sure, the other guy hadn’t been Mr. Spears, but he’d been a solid seven out of ten at best…or so Grell tells him.

Just as he reaches for the door, it swings open, revealing Eric on the other side. “I’ve got to check Spears’ flat and collect his mail,” he says, jerking his thumb over his shoulder. “Wanna come?”

Ronald blinks. “Huh?”

“I’ve got to check on Spears’ place, y’know, make sure no arseholes have decided to mess with it while he’s away.” It makes sense. Whether William is the boss or not, a reaper’s flat would be a prime target for mischief while they’re on vacation. “Besides, I haven’t seen you outside of work for a bit, so thought we could catch up before I’m stuck back in that white, bland, boring room again.”

Ronald snorts, pulling out his phone. “Yeah, alright. Just let me tell Grell I’ll be a little late.”

“Great, because I’m going mad in there, Ronnie.” Eric scrubs the side of his face. “I don’t know how Spears does it. I haven’t even had the time to call Alan!”

“Ooo, now that’s gotta be tough.”

Eric smacks him upside the head. “It is!”

Ronald laughs, pocketing his phone again. “Okay, Mr. Dramatic. Let’s get this over with.”

“Styx no. Let’s go as sloooow as possible.”

Ronald just humours Eric and lets the older reaper lead the way. Right away, Eric starts rambling about work, complaining about the never-ending workload, how his eyes are starting to hurt from staring at the tiny words on both paper and screen, how his backside is aching from sitting too long, and how desperate he is to get back out into the field. Listening to him, Ronald can’t help but wonder how William hasn’t gone mad yet. Add all that on top of receiving direct orders from the Board, the relentless paperwork demanding absolute perfection, and the constant pressure to meet deadlines without a second to spare, and the stress would have been lethal if William were human. Eric only had to handle that for a few months; William had been doing it every single day.

The walk to William’s home isn’t long, but it’s just enough for Ronald to appreciate the path William takes on a daily basis. On clear days, or evenings like this one, he’s sure it’s quite a pleasant stroll, but during the rain or snow? It’s not like the man could just port to work if he didn’t feel like walking. There’d been a law enacted by the Board that forbade porting within the realm due to a few idiots who decided to take advantage of the privilege. Classic case of a few ruining things for the many.

When they arrive at their destination, it’s exactly and not at all what Ronald imagined William’s home would look like. It’s one of the older buildings, made of dark brick with white-framed windows and a small cement porch at the front door. A long bush runs along the front of the house, stopping at the stairs, and there’s a decent-sized ash tree near the road, but that’s all there is in terms of landscaping. Otherwise, the lawn is neatly kept, and everything about the home screams pristine. The glass on the windows is spotless, and the basic brown wooden door is free of any chipping or peeling paint.  “Huh. You know, I kinda expected this place to be...more extravagant, I guess,” Ronald says, raising an eyebrow.

Eric nods in agreement as he unlocks the door. “Aye, I thought so too. You’d think he’d want to show off the money he makes, but this place doesn’t even have a first floor.” He pushes open the door. “Grab the mail, would you?” Ronald glances at the metal mailbox next to the door, lifting the lid and pulling out the pile of letters. They’re just a stack of envelopes, none of them particularly eye-catching. He absently flips through them as he follows Eric inside, only to stop when he runs into Eric’s outstretched hand. “Shoes off. Spears’ll know if you don’t.”

Ronald looks down at his flashy white oxfords before gently toeing them off and nudging them next to Eric’s. There’s a small side table next to the door, cluttered with various trinkets, and above it, a brass-framed mirror that Ronald takes a moment to fix his hair before finally looking around at the interior of the house. The walls are a deep brown with white wooden trims along the top and bottom, while the floors are a rich cherry wood. That seems to be the colour scheme for the rest of the house, from what he can see. However, through the archway ahead of him, he spots the kitchen, which has elegant tile flooring, stunning marble countertops, and a sleek black brick backsplash.

There’s a hallway to his right, with four doors and a closet, but considering it likely leads to the more private areas of the house, Ronald decides to turn left instead and walk through the next archway; he finds himself in the sitting room. While the same colour scheme of brown, black, white, and beige continues, there are splashes of blue scattered around the room, adding a pop of colour. It’s present in the black and blue rug, the decorative pillows on the couches and armchair, in the pictures hung on the walls, a blue-and-white tapestry of foreign writing neatly positioned by a thin bookcase, and even in the petals of a flower placed by the window.

While it feels surreal to be in William’s home, what really catches Ronald’s eye is the stereo sitting on a long, thin table under the window, with a stack of CDs beside it. Setting the mail down, he picks up one of the CDs. The cover is surprisingly colourful and loud, but it bears the same foreign characters found on the tapestry next to him. Flipping through a few more jewlcases, he notices that most of them are from the same band, though there are a few English albums mixed in. Curious, he opens the lid of the stereo, slides the CD into the player, and then closes it. After a moment of fiddling with the buttons, he hits play and waits. When the song begins, the rock sound surprises him. It’s even more surprising to realise that he and William share similar music tastes. Even when the singing starts, and he can’t understand a word of what’s being said, he still finds himself enjoying the music. He nods along, flicking through the rest of the CDs to see what else this band has put out. If only he could read the names. “Spears would kill you if he saw ye touchin’ his stuff.”

Ronald jumps, startled by Eric’s voice cutting through his thoughts. “Good thing he can’t.” he mutters, before snapping his head left and right. “Right?”

“I dunno. Who knows how paranoid Spears is?”

Ronald swallows nervously, turning off the stereo and putting the CD back in its case. “Right. Sorry, sir. I won’t touch anything else.” Eric laughs, and Ronald notices that the older reaper is holding a glass of water. “What’s that for?”

“This plant.” Eric answers, walking over to the flowers Ronald noticed earlier. The petals are a vibrant blue, and the stems and leaves are a healthy green. “He said it was from Alan, but that’s about all I know.”

“What kind of flower is it?”

Eric peers at it, trying to recall. “It’s…ah, shite, what is it?” He stares at the flowers, his brow furrowed as he racks his brain. “Petunia, I think?” He scratches the side of his goatee. “Alan said blue petunias mean...trust and intimacy? Gah, I can’t remember if that’s right. I’ve been trying, but I’m still crap with flowers.”

Ronald nudges his shoulder. “Hey! He’s gotta give you points for putting in the effort!”

Eric ruffles Ronald’s hair. “Aye! Exactly!”

Eric heads back to the kitchen, and Ronald follows after him once he’s fixed his hair and picked up William’s mail. None of the letters are interesting, mostly bills, until he reaches the last one. He pauses when he notices it’s from Kimiko Spears. Flipping it over, he sees the letter is sealed with an old-fashioned wax seal, no doubt with the family crest. “Uh, hey Eric,” Ronald says, walking toward the older reaper, who is drying and putting away the glass he’s just used. “I think Mr. Spears got a letter from his mum.”

Eric suddenly looks interested, taking the letter from Ronald’s hand. “Kimiko, huh?” He flips it over, arching a brow at the seal. “Looks important.”

“Should we open it?”

It’s almost like Eric’s brain grinds to a halt for a moment before he slowly stares back at Ronald. “You serious? Open Spears’ mail? Are you lookin’ for an early grave?”

Ronald frowns at the envelope Eric hands back to him. “What if it’s important?”

“Then they can call him, aye? I know us reapers born before your time like to keep things old-fashioned, but hell, Ron, we have mobiles for a reason, right?”

Ronald rolls his eyes. “Yeah, fair.”

“Good. Now, let’s get goin’.” Ronald hesitates for a moment, then sets the letter down with the rest of the envelopes on the kitchen counter before following Eric back to the front door. Oddly enough, he doesn’t really want to leave. It’s like he’s stepped foot inside some sort of lost temple. It’s leagues better than his own home–clean, organised, simple yet elegant. It’s not overly cluttered, yet it’s not empty, and it even has the audacity to smell nice. “Ron?”

Ronald blinks, pulled out of his thoughts. “Huh?”

“Comin’?”

“Oh, ah, yeah.”

Eric gives him a look. “I know it’s nice to be here, but remember, we don’t know if Spears has some secret cameras hidden around the place. Best not poke around too much.”

Ronald shivers at the thought. “Yeah, wouldn’t put it past him, honestly.” He finally slips back on his shoes, giving the interior one last glance. “Okay, Mr. Spears, we’re bein’ good and leavin’!” he announces to the empty house before following Eric outside.

After giving Eric his usual Ronald goodbye, he feels strangely off once he’s by himself. Even as he heads home to change and freshen up before meeting Grell at the first bar, the feeling doesn’t fade. Was it because he’d been inside William’s home without the other reaper there? Or was it because the man had received a letter from his mum and he wouldn’t know about it until a month later? Was there any harm in getting Grell to contact William to let him know? Why does it even bother him to begin with?

He shakes his head again. By the time the two of them are at their third pub of the night, Grell’s noticed his unusual quietness. “Ronnie, what’s wrong? You haven’t been this quiet since the last time we went out.”

Ronald isn’t sure how to answer, so he just shrugs. “I dunno. I just feel...strange, I guess.”

“Strange?” she says, taking his glass and sniffing the contents. “Nothing smells off.”

“It’s not the drink.”

“Then what is it, darling? You know you can talk to me about anything.”

While that’s mostly true, there are some things he’s afraid to talk to Grell about. Some things he’s afraid to even talk to himself about. “I guess, ever since Eric and I left Mr. Spears’ place, I’ve felt weird.”

She rests her elbows on the table, cocking her head. “Why?”

“I dunno,” he answers. “I mean, why would I feel weird after leaving his place?”

“Maybe because you entered his personal bubble that hardly anyone has had the privilege to step foot in?”

Ronald swirls his drink in its cup. It sounds plausible. “I guess. The place wasn’t at all what I was expecting. I was honestly thinkin’ we were gonna see something like his office–boring. No colour, pretty barren, but no. It was a really nice place. There were even photos of his family on the walls!” He pauses. “At least, I think they were his family.”

“Will wouldn’t have photos of strangers hung up, I’m sure.”

“Mm, yeah. Good point. He even had flowers Alan gave him, and they were alive, so obviously he takes good care of ‘em.”

“Did you assume he wouldn’t?”

“I don’t know what I assumed, to be honest.” He downs the rest of his drink, wincing as it stings on the way down. “I think what really surprised me was the music he listens to.”

Grell leans forward, intrigued. “Did you play some of his records?!”

“CDs.” Ronald corrects. “If Mr. Spears has records, they weren’t in the room I was in, but his stereo was.” He shrugs. “And maybe I got a little curious and played one.”

“Ooo, Ronnie! Will wouldn’t have liked that!” she giggles. “And?! What did you think?”

“I liked it. A lot. I didn’t expect Mr. Spears and I to have anything in common, but we like the same music, which is just...mind-blowin’.”

He does his best to explain the sound to Grell, and to his surprise, she knows exactly what he’s talking about. “Astonishing, isn’t it?! He’d brought those CDs with him when he transferred to London, and let me tell you, Ronnie, the look on his face when I caught him listening to one is an expression I’ve forever stored in my memory!” She folds her hands against her cheek, her expression extremely fond. “He was blushing and stuttery, completely caught off guard! It was the only time I’d really seen Will break that cold shell of his!” William blushing and stuttering. The very image is hard to conjure with the William he knew, but maybe with a younger William, it’s easier to place those expressions on his face. When he does just that, he finds William to be...no. No. He doesn’t find William to be anything. He waves his hand, as if physically knocking away the image that’s popped up in his head. “I miss that younger Will some days. Don’t get me wrong, I love older William, but younger Will had such a charm to him!”

“Yeah, I’m sure he did, Grell.”

Her sigh is dreamy as she stares off into space for almost too long before snapping back to reality, shaking her head. “Then? Was there anything else, or was it just his music choice?”

Ronald rocks his empty glass back and forth, debating if he should mention the letter to Grell. He figures, what’s the harm? “His mum sent him a letter.”

“His mum?” She looks shocked to hear that. “Kimiko?”

“Yeah.”

“And did you take a peek?!”

Ronald grins. “I’m not that stupid.” His smile switches to one of guilty amusement. “Well, I wanted to, but Eric pretty much shot that idea down.”

“Oh, pity! I would have loved to know what it said! I know Will isn’t all too fond of getting a letter from his father, but his mother? He’s never mentioned if she’s ever written to him!”

Ronald tilts his head, curious. “Do Mr. Spears and his dad not get along?”

“It’s more of a professional relationship than a personal one, if that’s what you mean.”

“Professional?”

Grell looks at him with confusion on her face. “Ronnie, how much do you know about the Spears family?”

Ronald blinks. “Erm, nothing, I guess? William’s the first ‘Spears’ I’ve heard of.”

He’s surprised when she practically balks at his answer. “You mean that?!”

“Uh, yes? I think?” he says, now beyond confused, worried that he may have just unintentionally insulted William in some way, even though the man isn’t around to hear it.

“Then it must be because you’re young! Allow me to fill you in then.” Grell leans back in her seat, pulling her long hair over her shoulder to run her fingers through it. “Callum and Kimiko Spears are very wealthy and very influential when it comes to the internal workings of the realm. Callum himself has been known to have very close ties with the Board, even having tea with the Head on many occasions. Kimiko, on the other hand, is infamous in her own right. She has a massive record of slaying many demons back in the day before retiring to settle down with Callum. I’ve heard she even slayed a Scout on her own!” 

Ronald’s eyes widen. Scouts are notorious demons for being bigger, stronger, and smarter than your average hellions who run amok, stealing the souls they're meant to collect. 

“They’re a power couple, Ronnie, a couple that no one wants to get on the bad side of! So, of course, when Will was promoted to where he is now, many assumed his parents had a hand in getting him the position, which is just bullshite! Will and I spent much of our academy time together, and I’ve seen all the hard work he put in just to graduate with a B average! And those that still assume Will doesn’t deserve his position seem to think Callum has a hand in keeping Will from being fired despite all the hard work Will does just to keep up with the Board’s expectations!” She rolls her eyes. “Anyhow, usually when Callum does write to Will, it’s to tell him that the Board is unhappy and there’s something he needs to change or shape up. It’s not often, but that’s the only time I’ve seen all colour drain from Will’s face.”

Ronald swallows. “Does he like his dad at all?”

“He’s never outright said he doesn’t, but part of me believes there’s no familial bond there. That it really is all just business. Of course, with how Will is, who can really know?”

Ronald can sympathise with that. “Then, what do you think his mum wrote him?”

“If I had to take a guess, I’m going to assume something about heirs.”

“Heirs? Like, kids?”

“I’m guessing so. After all, what powerful family wants their line to end? And Will’s been without a lover for so long now, I’m sure his mother is getting worried he won’t have any children before he can’t.”

“How’d they react when Mr. Spears was seein’ Alan?”

“I can’t say. Part of me wants to assume they’d be disappointed because of the whole ‘no grandchildren’ debacle, but if I must be honest,” she lowers her voice and leans forward again, “I can’t see Will having any children of his own blood, but that’s just between you and me.”

“Yeah, ‘course.”

“Good.” She leans back. “But another part of me wants to assume they wouldn’t really care if the child Will does have is his own or not, so long as the last name is passed on.” She picks up her own drink, her smile turning flirtatious. “Of course, if Callum does want the line to continue and Will doesn’t do anything, I am more than willing to offer myself as an option.”

Ronald slowly blinks at her. “Really?”

“What?! I’ve told you before, Ron! Callum is my second dream man! A cross between Will and Eric?! A brute just like his son?! He’s a man I’d love to have on a cold night!”

Ronald rolls his eyes. “Right. Anyway, do you think we should tell Mr. Spears about the letter from his mum or…?”

“Goodness no!” she gasps after a sip from her drink. “Will’s already under a lot of stress! He doesn’t need the pressure of his folks on top of this trip!”

“Yeah, true. Eric did say they’d call him if it was important.”

“And he’s right! Besides, Will might even run into daddy dearest anyhow. This is a trip to discuss things with the Board. Ah, some days I wish I could join him and we could have a romantic rendezvous under the stars!”

Ronald hums, glancing away as she continues to ramble on, hopping from one subject to the next. By the end of the night, that strange feeling still hasn’t left. He can’t place what it is or why he has it and can only hope that it’ll go away by tomorrow.

Chapter Text

Three months have finally come and gone, though to Ronald, it feels more like six. Between juggling his own work and picking up Alan's duties, he’s been relentless but when Eric tells him that William will be returning the next day and tonight will be the last night he needs to be overworked, it’s a relief. Ronald feels like he’s spent more time behind his desk than William ever did. Then again, he’s never seen William much in the field. Sure, William cleans up when necessary–mostly after Grell, especially with the infamous Jack the Ripper case–but aside from that, Ronald hasn’t seen much of William in action. It's not a requirement for management to be out in the field, which makes Ronald wonder if William is even capable of fighting demons. If William's mother was as strong as Grell claimed, surely he would want to prove himself in her eyes. Why…is William still occupying his thoughts, three months later? You’ve done well as of late. Did those words really affect him that much? “You’ve done well.”

"Aye. We’d say ye have."

Ronald jumps, barely stopping himself from slamming his pen onto the paper he'd been absent-mindedly working on as his thoughts drift. He’s not entirely surprised to see Eric standing in his doorway, but he is surprised to see Alan there too. The other reaper had practically vanished from dispatch since Ronald last saw him in William’s office, wondering what Eric did to get Alan to actually stay home for the rest of his medical leave. Whatever it was, it seems to have worked. Alan looks far healthier now, a world apart from how he looked just two months ago. He almost looks like his old self again. “You heard that, huh?”

“Yeah, we did.” Eric grins, draping his arm around Alan’s shoulders. “But we’re gonna have to agree with ye, right, Al?”

Alan smiles warmly, “Most certainly.”

Ronald awkwardly rubs the back of his neck, unable to meet their eyes. He taps his pen on the desk, the sound sharp in the silence. “Well, thanks.” He coughs into his hand, then turns to Alan. “Why are you two here? Especially you, Al?”

“I managed to convince Eric, once again, that I’m recovered enough to be here. Besides, William’s back tomorrow, and once I’m off medical leave, Eric won’t have a say in what I can and can’t do anymore.”

Eric rolls his eyes. It’s clear that, even though Alan is making progress, the older reaper would still try to protect him if he could. "We also wanted to check on you." Eric says as he strides toward Ronald’s desk. His expression hardens, a look Ronald has seen on William more times than he cares to count. Eric picks up the paper under Ronald’s pen, scrutinising it closely. Ronald swallows nervously, bracing himself for the worst, but Eric surprises him by gently plucking the pen from his hand. "We also think ye deserve the night off."

Ronald stares, completely flabbergasted. “What?”

“The night off.” Alan repeats, his tone warm. “You’ve been helping Eric so much without even being asked to, so we think you deserve to know how much we appreciate everything you've done.”

“Exactly.” Eric flashes a smile. “Now go on. I don’t wanna see ye back here until tomorrow.”

“But–”

“No buts.” Alan interrupts, his hand pressing against Ronald's back as Eric gently nudges him up from his chair. “I’ll be helping Eric with the rest of this, so go. Enjoy your evening.”

Ronald hesitates, glancing between the two as Eric continues to steer him towards the door. “You’re really sure?”

“More than sure.” Alan assures him, a teasing glint in his eyes. “Plus, I’ve already told Eric that paperwork won’t kill me.” There’s a fondness in his gaze that contradicts the mild irritation in his voice. “I’m more than capable, despite what my overly cautious husband thinks.”

“Hey! I know stress isn’t good for you!” Eric protests, but his voice is filled with concern. “I’m just thinkin’ about yer health!”

“Paperwork doesn’t stress me out that much, Eric.”

“Ah! So it does a wee bit!” Eric grins triumphantly.

“Do you want to sleep on the couch tonight?!”

“Ye’d miss me!”

“You’d like to think so!” Alan flicks Eric playfully on the forehead, “twit.”

Eric snorts, rubbing the spot. “Ye love me.”

“Somehow.” Alan rolls his eyes but leans in to plant a quick kiss on Eric’s cheek. He then turns back to Ronald, pointing toward the door with a mock stern expression. “Now, you,” he says, “I want you gone. Go. Shoo.”

Ronald holds back a laugh, muttering, “Okay, okay. I’m goin’.” He steps out into the hallway but pauses, turning back to look at them one last time. “But really. Thanks, you two.”

“No, thank you, Ron. For helpin’ like ye did.” Eric’s voice softens, sincerity taking over. “I’ll make it up to ye, I promise.”

“Actually,” Alan nudges Eric playfully, “I’ve already told him you two will be going out for a guys' night once William’s returned and we’re all back on normal schedules again.”

Eric stops in his tracks, blinking in confusion. “Huh?”

“Oh. Didn’t I tell you?” Alan feigns a thoughtful expression, tapping his cheek. “Hm. Guess I didn’t.”

Eric stares at him, clearly bemused. “And you call me the twit.”

Alan offers him a coy shrug, a teasing smile dancing on his lips. “Oops.”

With a final chuckle, Ronald closes the door behind him, barely catching the affectionate embrace that Eric pulls Alan into. At one point, he had been content with his solitary life, convinced that he didn’t need the commitment but seeing them together, so effortlessly happy, stirs something deep inside him. For the first time, he wonders if true love really exists–and if maybe, just maybe, it could be real for them.

“Ron!”

He stumbles forward when someone jumps onto his back, and one of the same mates who had been in his office the day he’d seen Alan in William’s comes into his line of vision which also helps him immediately identifying the person on his back. The pair have an on-and-off relationship, and depending on who you talk to, the gossip swings between her being unfaithful or him just looking for something casual. 

"Lemme guess," Ronald says, shooting the other reaper finger guns, "party?"

"Hell yeah!"

"Why else would we come find you?!" the female reaper exclaims, slipping from Ronald’s back to grab his arm. Ronald’s seen her plenty of times during her 'off time' with the other reaper, she used to be his go-to when the night would run dry. "This is the earliest we’ve seen you out of your office since you became so serious!"

"Yeah!" the male reaper adds, grinning. "Do you know how many parties you’ve missed?! How many keep asking when Ronald Knox is gonna make his big comeback?!"

"Hey! Hey! I’m sorry, but I was racking up some great rapport with the big guys," Ronald defends himself, holding up his hands in mock surrender as if being interrogated. "Give me some leeway."

"Bollocks! You told Dan that you wanted to be stuck with all that work!" the female reaper teases, wagging her finger at him.

That's right. He did. "Does it really matter then?" Ronald asks, crossing his arms and smirking. "I’m done now, so let’s let bygones be bygones. Now, tell me about this party. I’m ready to kick off my freedom with some drinks!"

Dan grins and slings his arm around Ronald’s shoulders, yanking him close. "Suppose I can let ya get off for free this time."

"I was astonished myself when they said Ronnie was being a desk jockey!" the female reaper adds, snuggling up to Ronald. "Now let’s go! We’re wasting time just standing here talking!"

Ronald feels slightly uncomfortable being pressed between the two, though he can’t quite place why. They aren’t really his close friends, but they’re certainly not strangers either, and these two have always been very touchy-feely, a dynamic that never bothered him before. He tries to shake off the uneasy feeling. "Where’s the party at?"

"Here." The taller reaper flips out his phone, showing Ronald the location of the party. Originally, Ronald had been eager to get going, but as he looks at the map, his excitement fades. The location is essentially in the middle of nowhere. The nearest building visible on the map is a petrol station, barely on the edge of the screen; otherwise, it's just a vast expanse of grass, dirt, and bushes. "That’s it?" Ronald asks, his unease growing.

"It doesn’t look like much, I know, but I swear up and down, it’s great !" Dan grins, looking excited. "Marie and I went to one a couple weeks ago, and it’s perfect for being loud as hell, plus it has some good privacy for snogging." He winks suggestively.

Marie rapidly nods, her enthusiasm matching her partner's. "He’s right!" She walks her fingers up Ronald’s chest in a playful manner. "Don’t worry, Ronnie. I’ll show you all the best places."

Ronald gently pushes her hand away, feeling a mix of hesitation and curiosity. He wants to voice his concerns about the place, but as the words form in his mind, he wonders if it's really the location that’s troubling him or if it’s just the fact that he's been out of the party scene for so long that he’s forgotten what it’s like to have fun. After all, he deserves a reward after all the work he’s put in, right? A night of loud music, good drinks, and maybe even a bit of snogging sounds like a perfect way to unwind. Besides, he’ll have a proper night out with Eric soon enough. "Then, erm, lead the way," he says, forcing a smile.

He holds onto a bit of hope that when he sees the place in person, it’ll have more to offer than the map suggests but when they arrive, his hopes quickly dissolve. The location is as sparse as he feared, the grass trampled and dirt patchy, but the large group of partygoers already gathered here are making the best of it, with music blaring and drinks flowing. The twinkling lights of London are visible in the distance, but the more Ronald takes it all in, the more he feels a sense of unease. He knows the city like the back of his hand, but he's never ventured this far outside of it. The unfamiliarity makes him uneasy, and he feels a twinge of reluctance about leaving the safety of the truck. "Ronnie? You okay?" Marie asks, poking his cheek as she notices his expression. "You look pale."

"Yeah. What’s wrong?" The other reaper looks over, his tone filled with concern as he parks the vehicle.

"I, ah, I dunno," Ronald says, his voice unsure. "Doesn’t this feel a bit too far away from everything?"

The other two reapers exchange a look before they both sigh dramatically. "C’mon, Ron! You’ve been cooped up in that office for so long, you’ve forgotten how to have fun!" Dan whines. "You’re as stiff as Mr. Spears at this point."

As stiff as Mr. Spears? Ronald can’t help but laugh, though it’s a bit forced. While a small part of him takes pride in the fact that he’s worked so hard, another part of him feels almost offended by the comparison. "Yeah," he says after a long pause, his voice more resigned than he expected. "Yeah, you’re right. I think it’s time I enjoy myself again."

"There’s the Ronald we know!" Marie exclaims, grinning at him as she pulls him towards the crowd. The other reaper slaps him on the back, and for a moment, Ronald feels the weight of his own reluctance slip away. Maybe this will be what he needs to shake off the tension he’s built up over the last few months.

********************

His memory is fuzzy when he finally wakes up. All he knows is that his head is throbbing, a relentless, pulsing pain that makes his skull feel like it's about to split in two. He can tell he’s lying on the ground rather than in a bed, and it’s eerily quiet. He struggles to open his eyes, blinking rapidly against the discomfort. When they finally adjust, he’s staring up at a cloudy night sky, his surroundings empty, lifeless. Not a soul in sight. 

Biting back a wave of nausea, he slowly attempts to sit up, pressing the heel of his hand to his forehead in a futile attempt to ease the throb. His eyes scan the area, but there's nothing—nothing familiar, nothing that indicates any sign of the party or its attendees. No stereo blaring music, no beer cans littering the ground, not even the remnants of laughter or shouting even the patches of grass, once trampled and torn, have started to spring back to life. “Hello?!” His voice comes out rough and strained, reverberating painfully in his skull. There’s no answer, just the deafening silence that settles around him. Had they really just left him here? Completely alone? Worst of all, unconscious? Yes. Yes, they had. “Knobheads.” he mutters under his breath, pressing his fingers hard against his throbbing temples.

It takes effort to get to his feet. He stumbles a few times, his knees buckling as if the ground itself is eager to drag him back down. Finally, after what feels like an eternity, he manages to find his balance, though his head keeps pounding like a drum. Another wave of nausea hits him, and he swallows it down with grim determination. He pats around his pockets, desperate to locate his phone. 

That’s when dread sweeps over him–a cold, gnawing sensation in the pit of his stomach. He can’t find it. It’s not in his pockets and it’s nowhere on the ground around him, even though he spends all the energy he can muster scanning the dirt. “Shit, shit, shit. They wouldn’t leave me without a phone, right?” His heart races with a sinking feeling. The reapers he’d partied with, they wouldn’t be that awful...would they? 

Then, when he goes to check the time and realises his watch is also missing, his worst fear settles into his chest. Yes. Yes, they are. “Fuck!” The curse escapes him before he can stop it, his fingers instinctively gripping at his wrist where the watch used to be. He loved that watch. It was one of the few meaningful gifts he'd received, a token from his father when he graduated from the academy. The realisation stings, more than he expected. He tries to wipe away the anger–and, frustratingly, the sting of tears–with his fist, refusing to break down over something as trivial as a watch when the night has already turned into such a mess. He wasn't about to cry now. Not when he still needs to figure out how to get home.

With no phone, no watch, and no other apparent option, it dawns on him that his only choice is to walk. He lifts his gaze, his eyes drawn to the distant skyline of the city. It seems so far away now, especially with the thick, dark clouds hanging low in the sky, threatening a storm that feels inevitable. No matter how fast he walks, he won’t make it back before the weather hits and that, really, is just the icing on the cake. 

Maybe, just maybe, Eric or Grell will realise he’s gone and come looking for him but the thought fades quickly. He hadn't told either of them where he was going, or that he was even leaving in the first place. He can’t count on anyone coming to find him. How long had it been since he’d passed out? He has no way to tell. There’s no moon tonight, and the stars are hidden behind an ominous blanket of clouds, leaving him with nothing but uncertainty.

Taking a deep breath, Ronald forces himself to keep moving, hoping he can make some headway before the storm fully sets in. It’s not long after that the wind begins to pick up, carrying with it a cold chill that has Ronald shivering. He tries to stay positive, telling himself that if he can just make it to the petrol station he remembered seeing on the map, he’ll be okay but the moment he feels the first drop of rain land on his nose, it’s as if the sky opens up. Within seconds, he’s drenched, the rain hammering down in sheets, and he scowls up at the heavens, droplets obscuring the lens of his glasses.

As he trudges forward, there’s something else gnawing at him–a feeling that doesn’t sit right. His body aches in a way he’s not used to, starting in his feet and working its way slowly up his legs, as though he’s experiencing human exhaustion for the first time. How long has he been walking? Hours? He can’t tell but with every step, it feels as if he’s dragging a heavy weight behind him, the wind whipping around him like tiny daggers, stinging his skin. He tries to convince himself it’s just the aftermath of the night, maybe even the hangover kicking in or even it’s just the alcohol coursing through him, making his limbs feel like lead but there’s a tiny, persistent voice in the back of his mind that tells him it’s something else.

Just as he thinks he can’t go another step, when his feet and calves ache in a way he’s never felt before, he hears it. Through the howl of the wind and the constant downpour, there’s another sound, one that makes his heart leap–an engine purring in the distance. His pulse quickens, and with a surge of hope, he gathers whatever strength he has left and dashes toward one of the few streetlamps ahead. He raises a thumb, desperately hoping that whoever’s coming over the hill will have the decency to stop for him.

The car appears soon enough–a sleek, black vehicle that reflects the orange glow of the streetlamp. He stands there, bouncing slightly on the balls of his feet, eager to catch the driver’s attention. They don’t stop. The car drives right past him, not even slowing down. His heart sinks, a wave of defeat washing over him. He lowers his arm and, in a daze, drops to his knees, slumping over, staring at nothing. He’s pathetic. Useless. Of course, they left him here. Why would anyone care about someone like him? "Knox?"

The sound of his name is like a shock to his system. His eyes snap up, and in that moment, everything else fades away. Standing right in front of him, with a look of concern that Ronald has never seen on his face, is William. His heart skips a beat, and for a moment, he’s frozen, staring in stunned disbelief. William is crouching before him, his gaze focused on him with an intensity that Ronald isn’t used to. The car he thought had driven past is now only a few steps away, and his mind struggles to make sense of it all. “S-Sir…?” Ronald stammers, unable to hide the shock in his voice.

William’s usually cold eyes soften slightly as they study Ronald, scanning him as though he's injured. “What the bloody hell are you doing all the way out here?”

Ronald swallows, briefly wondering if he should lie. He doesn’t want William to be disappointed in him, but at the same time, the truth will come out at the office soon enough. Even William isn’t immune to office gossip. So, he tells him, avoiding making eye contact as he does, sensing the weight of William's judgmental gaze on him. “So, yeah. You don’t have to lecture me or anything,” he mutters when he finishes. “They stole my phone and my watch, so, lesson learned.”

William frowns, and Ronald feels the disappointment radiating from that look. His shoulders slump, and he lowers his head, overwhelmed by the feeling of being a proper junior again. “Indeed. It seems a lesson has been learned, so I won’t leave you out here to continue suffering.” William stands up, grabbing under Ronald's arms as he does and hoists him to his feet. “I’ll take you home.”

“Really…?” Ronald questions, disbelief lacing his voice. Surely William would want him to continue this punishment, right? To truly learn his lesson?

“Knox, it’s pouring out. You’re soaked, you’re hungover, and Styx knows what would happen if I left you out here to walk back home.” William slips Ronald’s arm around his shoulders, guiding him with his other arm wrapped securely around his waist. “Now, walk.” Ronald tries his best to cooperate, despite the weight of his exhaustion still dragging him down. The older reaper is surprisingly warm compared to the cold rain, and there’s something oddly comforting about the proximity, something that makes Ronald want to close his eyes and lean into it. “Here.” William says, opening the passenger door.

Ronald collapses gracelessly into the seat, grateful for the leather against his drenched clothes as William shuts the door. He’s cold, sore, and feels as though he’s run a marathon, but the relief of finally being warm and safe makes tonight not feel so bad after all. “Thanks, sir.” he murmurs once William slides into the driver’s seat. The older reaper winces as he sits down, and Ronald barely catches the look of discomfort that flashes across his face. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” William replies, throwing back his soaked bangs before pulling out onto the road. “It’s just been a very long drive.”

Ronald can imagine. Still, he’s grateful for the ride. The warmth of the heater starts to seep into his body, and he places his palms in front of it, sighing as the heat begins to thaw him out. His legs are recovering slowly, but all he really wants to do is sleep off this hangover. However, it feels almost rude to pass out while William has to keep driving. “You’re a real lifesaver, sir.”

“You’re welcome.”

Ronald leans back in the seat once he feels he’s warmed up enough. His damp clothes cling uncomfortably to his skin, and the silence in the car becomes awkward, despite the rain and wind hammering the vehicle. Still, he can’t bring himself to complain. “So…” he begins, drumming his fingers on his thighs. “Got any music?”

“No.”

Ronald frowns, somehow knowing that was the answer he was going to get. Does he bring up the fact he knows about the type of music William likes? Probably not. He’s certain that only Eric was ever meant to be inside William’s home, so he keeps that to himself. “Right. Okay.” He glances around the interior of the vehicle, noting how immaculate it is, much like William’s home. The only thing even slightly out of place is William’s suitcase, sitting on the backseat. “So, how was your trip?”

“Fine.”

“Ooo, that bad?” 

“It was fine, Knox.”

Ronald leans over the console, resting his chin on his palm, his eyes fixed on William. “You sure? 'Cause it doesn’t sound fine to me.”

William spares him a brief glance. “And I’m supposed to tell you about it?”

“I’m a willing listener!” Ronald grins, but there’s a glimmer of seriousness in his gaze.

William shoves Ronald’s face back into his seat. “I’d bore you to death, I’m sure.”

Ronald adjusts his glasses before leaning on the console again, a thoughtful look crossing his face. “Aren’t we all death?”

William falls quiet, hoping his silence might deter the younger reaper, but the longer he ignores the younger reaper, the more intense he feels Ronald’s stare. Why on earth would Ronald care? What reason could Ronald possibly have to want to hear him moan about the trifling experience of being the only sensible reaper at these ridiculous meetings?

Sparing Ronald another glance, he sees the younger reaper still waiting patiently for his answer. With a resigned sigh, William gives in. “Fine. If you must know, it was a waste of time. Three months of productivity down the drain because, unsurprisingly, the Board won’t change their minds when it comes to pay raises or more holiday time. I’ve told them we’re no longer understaffed, haven’t been for decades, but they refuse to budge, not even by a fraction. They don’t care that we’ve got more reapers to pay, nor that I can hire a proper assistant to help manage my workload. I can't even say it was a holiday either, because there was still paperwork to do, souls to collect. I just wasn’t in charge.” His grip tightens around the steering wheel. “Worked like a dog, even away from London.” His annoyance is evident in his clipped tone. “But it’s done now, and I don’t intend to waste any more of my energy thinking about it.”

“What about your dad? Did you see him at all? Could he do something about the Board?”

William pauses, momentarily taken aback, trying to understand why Ronald would think his father had any relevance here. “My father?”

“Yeah. Grell told me Callum Spears was pretty close with the Board?”

“Mm. I see.” William shakes his head slightly. “I haven’t seen my father in years. He has no reason to participate in these business trips, nor does he have any influence over the Board. I know many believe he can sway them in whatever direction he pleases, but that’s simply not true. He, like the rest of us, can only make suggestions. It’s up to the Board whether they listen to those suggestions or not, and as always, they never do.”

“Oh. That blows.” Ronald leans back in his seat. “Grell also said he had tea with the head of the Board a couple times.”

“Well, she is wrong. It only happened once, and that was due to a personal matter that did not impact the rest of our society–and before you ask, not even I know what that personal matter was. I was barely a year old back then.” William takes a deep breath, clearly done with that topic. “Now, how was Slingby in my stead?”

Ronald folds his arms behind his head, leaning back as he talks about Eric’s performance. He doesn’t realise he’s rambling until he catches himself smiling at William, and it hits him then–he’s genuinely happy that William’s home. Happy that he’s seeing William again. Surely it’s because it means he gets Eric back for a night, like Alan promised. Surely. “So, yeah. Kept everything running smoothly. Alan helped him too. Eric said Alan kept him sane on those nights when he came home even later than he expected to.” He could be imagining it, but there’s a faint smile on William’s lips. “And that’s about it. I’d say he did aces at what you wanted him to do.”

“I’m very pleased to hear that. Not that I had any doubts, but it is nice to hear the man you chose to watch over things does so diligently.” There’s a brief pause. “Now, how’s Alan?”

“From what I saw, pretty good. He looks better than when he was put on ‘house arrest’, as he called it. He’s ready to come back, though.” Ronald chuckles. “Eric’s already written out the form. You just need to sign it.”

“He did?”

“Yeah! I know, I was surprised too. I think he did it out of guilt, then actually wanting to.”

“Ah. Now that I can believe.”

“Yep. Said he’s going to try to be a better, less overbearing husband, if he can help it.”

William’s tone suddenly changes. “Yes. A better husband.”

Ronald notices the almost spite in William’s voice when he says the word ‘husband’. “Sir?”

“Yes?”

“How do you feel about Eric and Alan being married?”

“How do I feel?”

“Yeah. I mean, you and Alan used to date, so…”

Another stretch of silence follows as William debates how to answer the question. Ronald wonders if he’s asked something too intimate, fully expecting them to continue the drive in silence, until William speaks again. “He and I were lovers for only a short time, comparatively. I was unable to give Alan what he needed as I put my work first, and with my lack of emotional understanding at the time, I was far from the ideal partner.” William taps his index finger on the wheel. “While I doubt I’ll ever stop caring for Alan, I am happy to see him with Slingby. He gives Alan what I could not. So long as he continues to treat Alan with the love and adoration he does now, then I have no quarrel with their union.”

Ronald stares ahead, trying to picture William in Eric’s position. As hard as he tries, Eric remains exactly where he should be–right next to Alan. It raises another question. Had William even been at the wedding? Grell and him were there, so had William been invited? Was he too busy to attend? Do you even invite your ex, even if you’re on good terms? “You’re not jealous, then?”

“No. I am happy for him.” His answer is so robotic that Ronald doubts he means it.

Hoping to offer the older reaper some comfort, Ronald places his hand on William’s shoulder. “You’d make a good husband one day, sir. Maybe even a father.”

The effect is the opposite of what he intended. William’s mood sours further, and he shrugs Ronald’s hand off sharply. “No. I would not.” The words strike a nerve, and Ronald feels a wave of tension fill the space between them. He retracts his hand and folds his hands in his lap, sitting uncomfortably in the thick silence. He has more questions, questions he knows he can’t ask. They barely know each other on a personal level, let alone a professional one. He’s surprised he even got answers at all.

The silence drags on, only broken by the sound of the rain tapping against the car windows. Then, a growl erupts from Ronald’s stomach. It’s so loud that William raises an eyebrow and glances over at him. Ronald, mortified, instinctively wraps his arms around his middle. “Uh, sorry,” he mutters, his face flushing bright red. “Haven’t eaten anything since this morning.”

“You haven’t?”

“Nope. Been, ah, really busy.” He doubts William would believe him if he were to explain that he’d been helping Eric the entire time William was gone. The rumble from his stomach comes again, and William sighs in resignation, steering the car into the petrol station Ronald had been heading towards. “Sir?”

“Go. Grab something to eat.”

Ronald’s eyes widen. “You mean it?”

“I wouldn’t have offered otherwise.” William opens the door, but the moment he moves to stand, he hisses in pain and sits back into his seat, back straighter than it had been while driving.

“Sir?! You okay?”

William winces, exhaling slowly. “I’ll be fine. As I said before, I’ve been driving for too long. Now go, and find something for yourself to eat. I’ll be in shortly.”

“You sure?”

“Go, Knox, or I will rescind the offer.” The seriousness in William’s tone leaves no room for argument. Ronald flashes him a quick smile and exits the car. He enters the petrol station, wondering just what William would let him pick up. Sweets? Something light? How much would William actually be willing to pay? He browses the aisles, looking for something that catches his eye, but so far, nothing seems right. It doesn’t escape his notice that no one is manning the till either. The lights are on, the doors are unlocked, the place is obviously open, yet it feels as though he’s the only one here. “Find anything?” William asks, appearing in the aisle with him.

“I dunno. What do you recommend?”

“Something you’d have for dinner, I’d assume.”

“Hm. So, like one of those pre-made sandwiches?”

“If that’ll fill you up.”

“Yeah, it will.”

“Then by all means.” Ronald picks out a ham and cheese sandwich, holding it in his hand as he makes his way to the till. To his surprise, William has also grabbed an iced coffee for himself. “Hello?” William calls out, peering over the counter. “Excuse me?”

They wait for a good few minutes, but still, no one appears. “Weird,” Ronald says, glancing around. “What do we do?”

William takes a moment to think, his eyes narrowing slightly as he considers the situation. “How much is that sandwich?”

“Uh,” Ronald reads off the price, and William checks the cost of his coffee before opening his wallet and pulling out a twenty-pound note. “I’ll leave this here. I don’t want to waste any more time than we already have,” he says, placing the money on the opposite side of the counter.

Ronald hesitates, unsure if he likes the idea, but no one seems to be coming, and they have a schedule to stick to, so he holds his tongue and follows William out of the shop and back to the car. He unwraps the plastic from his sandwich and takes a bite. It tastes surprisingly good. Having nothing to eat until now feels like more of a reward than that party had. He’d worked enough to earn this meal...suddenly, the sandwich doesn’t taste as good. 

“Feel better?” William asks, popping the cap off his coffee.

“Oh yeah!” Ronald says, forcing a grin. “Really needed this!” his grin turns to a softer smile. “And really. Thanks. I mean it.”

“You really needn’t thank me.” William replies, his tone dismissive as he takes a long drink from his coffee. Ronald finds his eyes oddly fixed on the subtle movement of William’s throat as he swallows. There’s plenty of reasons why he could be watching, but he likes to think it’s because it’s rare to see William doing something so...normal. “Now, we best be off if we’re to make it home at a somewhat decent hour.” William says, his voice pulling Ronald from his thoughts.

Ronald silently continues eating while William pulls back onto the road. Once the food is finished and the plastic is shoved into his pocket, he begins to drift into a trance. The way the branches of the tree-lined road sway with the violent wind, how the rain pelts the windows like tiny picks, the sound of the tires splashing through shallow puddles–everything seems to lull him into a comfortable daze. It’s the kind of weather he used to fall asleep to back in his flat. Strangely, it’s comforting.

Until it’s not.

He barely closes his eyes before he realises they’re drifting toward the trees. His eyes snap open, fully awake, and he turns to William, alarmed. The older reaper is clearly out of it, hardly aware of what’s happening. “Sir!” Ronald calls out, grabbing the wheel and yanking it back to safety while also desperately shaking William’s shoulder. 

William jolts awake, eyes wide, slamming on the brakes just as Ronald grips the steering wheel. 

They both breathe heavily, the tension thick in the air. Ronald’s heart is pounding in his chest, his gaze filled with worry as he looks at William, whose knuckles have gone stark white from gripping the wheel as though it were his only lifeline. “Knox…” William says, voice strained. “Knox, I…”

“What the hell?!” Ronald demands, still shaken. 

William slowly unclasps his fingers from the wheel, reclining in his seat with a long, slow breath. “I’m…I apologise. I…” He removes his glasses, wiping at his eyes before shaking his head as though trying to clear the fog in his mind. He looks traumatised, as though he can’t quite grasp what just happened. “I don’t know what came over me. One moment I’m fully coherent, and the next…”

Ronald feels it too. What he had thought was a peaceful trance brought on by the combination of rain and a full stomach was clearly something else entirely. “Hey, it’s okay,” Ronald reassures him, his voice gentle as he places a hand on William’s shoulder, hoping to offer comfort. “I get it. You’ve been driving for a long time, plus the atmosphere could make anyone sleepy.” He slides his hand to William’s upper back, gently rubbing his palm back and forth. “It’s okay.”

“I nearly drove us off the road.”

“Yeah, well, it wouldn’t have killed us at least,” Ronald jokes, trying to lighten the mood. “And you’ve got your phone, so it’s not like we’d be completely up shit creek, right?”

William takes a deep breath, placing his glasses back on his nose. “I suppose you have a point. Still, I don’t think I’m fit to drive us the rest of the way home tonight. Do you mind if we stay the night somewhere?”

“Nope. Not at all.” Ronald slowly removes his hand from William, a little reluctant to break the contact. “Want me to drive for a bit?”

William seems ready to refuse, but then his rational mind takes over, and he nods. “Perhaps that might be best.”

“Okay, and I promise, I won’t scratch your beauty.” Ronald grins, hoping to keep things light.

“I have more faith in you than I do in myself at the moment.” William replies, his tone entirely serious.

Ronald is the first to exit the vehicle, and William follows slowly, hand on the bonnet of the car for support. Ronald watches him carefully, ready to catch him if he stumbles, but William makes it to the passenger side without incident. Ronald slips into the driver’s seat, the idea of being behind the wheel of William’s car thrilling at first but that excitement quickly wanes as his fingers wrap around the steering wheel, a sense of responsibility settling in. “Ready?” he asks, turning his head to William.

William, who has reclined against the door with his hand over his eyes, lets out another long breath. “Yes.”

Ronald nods to himself before starting the drive once more. The ride is mostly smooth, but the atmosphere that once felt comforting now feels oppressive. The rain batters harder against the car, and the thunder rumbles ominously above them. He narrows his eyes, straining to see through the relentless downpour, desperate for any sign of relief. Through the haze, he catches sight of a sign amidst the trees and a small road turning left at it. He slows the car and pulls up to the turn, squinting at the sign, which is in a state of disrepair. Half the letters are missing but what he can make out is the word ‘vacancy’ glowing faintly. It’s a sign of life, he thinks. Whatever this place is, it’s open but as he turns onto the road and spots the building the motel the sign belongs to, doubts start to creep in.

The parking lot is nearly empty, and the building itself is in rough shape. The windows are boarded up, the lights flicker sporadically, some aren’t on at all and the lawn is overgrown with weeds. “Shit,” he mutters, cutting the engine. 

“I can’t say this would be my first choice for lodging,” William observes dryly as he glances at the place Ronald has pulled up to.

“Yeah, same here. Do you even think it’s still open?” Ronald asks, voice tinged with uncertainty.

“I suppose we’ll find out,” William replies, taking a deep breath. “The sign does offer a glimmer of hope. Grab my suitcase, if you would, and let’s pray for the best.”

Ronald nods, and the two of them exit the car, doing their best to avoid getting soaked before reaching the overhang at the entrance. Thankfully, when William tries the glass doors, they open without resistance, and they step inside. The place immediately strikes Ronald as somewhere he wouldn’t want to spend more than a few minutes in, let alone the night. The wallpaper is old and faded, the floorboards creak and warp beneath their feet, and there’s a thin layer of dust coating everything. Dust particles drift lazily through the air, and the musty smell hangs heavily around them. "Great," he mutters under his breath as William approaches the front desk.

"It’s not ideal, but it’s something," William comments over his shoulder, his voice echoing in the empty space. "Hello? Is there anyone here who could help us?"

Ronald stands beside William, scanning the interior. His eyes catch something William has missed. "Sir, look," he says, gesturing toward the desk, where the guest book lies open, a room key resting on top of it.

William turns and catches sight of it. He shares a brief, uncertain look with Ronald before reaching down to pick up the key. "Room four."

"Are we going to use it?" Ronald asks.

"I...usually, I’d decline such an idea," William answers, flicking through the guest book quickly. "But there doesn’t appear to be anyone around, and from a quick glance at the page, it looks like no one is scheduled to stay in that room." His voice carries an edge of suspicion as he skims the guest list, which is surprisingly full given the state of the motel and the near-empty parking lot. "Here, Knox," he says, passing the key to Ronald. "Find our room. I’ll have a look around and see if I can find someone to pay for it."

Ronald takes the key between his fingers. Like everything else here, it’s seen better days. "Alright. I’ll grab your suitcase too," he says, feeling an uncomfortable knot in his stomach.

William nods, already moving around the desk. "Thank you. I’ll be there shortly."

Ronald flashes him a quick smile before steeling himself to step back outside. The pavement leading to the rooms is covered by the first-story walkway, but it doesn’t make it any easier to see when the lights next to the doors he passes are all out. The only light that isn’t flickering or completely dead is above room four— their room. He swallows hard, an uneasy feeling creeping up on him. He shakes it off, telling himself it’s just the hangover making him feel worse, and that a good sleep will do him good but when he unlocks the door and pushes it open, disappointment washes over him. The room is dreary, and it doesn’t offer any sense of comfort. A worn couch sits under the window, its upholstery faded and threadbare, the door to the washroom is chipped and peeling, and the dark blue carpet shows signs of wear where furniture once stood. The wallpaper is peeling in places, and cracks run up some of the walls toward the ceiling but what really catches his attention is the double bed. A double bed with blankets that raise immediate questions when he sees a dark stain on the right side. "Right, well, shit." he mutters, his stomach sinking further.

"Indeed."

Ronald jumps nearly a foot in the air, dropping William’s suitcase as his body tenses, ready to lash out. The slight amusement playing on William’s face helps to ease some of his tension, and Ronald immediately looks away, embarrassed, rubbing the back of his neck. “You scared me.”

“So I saw,” William replies, smirking slightly as he picks up his suitcase and walks into the room. “I can’t say I’ve ever stayed in a place this…run-down.” He flicks on the bedside light, which flickers weakly, offering little in the way of illumination.

“Yeah, me either.” Ronald agrees, following him inside and closing the door behind him.

“But I suppose we can’t complain.” William continues, setting his suitcase down on the couch unamused by the plume of dust particles that puff up from the cushion. “Honestly, I wonder how this place stays in business.”

Ronald wonders that too, but William’s right; it's better than trying to rest in a cramped car. "Right, so this is going," he mutters, cautiously grabbing the blanket from the bed. "Don’t even want to know what this is." He cringes as he balls the fabric up and tosses it into the corner. The bottom sheet seems better, though, as there's no mysterious stain. “So…” He hesitates for a moment, trying to figure out how best to broach the next part. “Erm, unlike you, I don’t have anything to wear besides my birthday suit since there's no way in hell I’m sleepin' in wet clothes, so, uh...I’m gonna sleep naked.” And for the first time, he feels a nervous flush rise to his cheeks. Naked. In a bed. With William. With another man. That’s not something he’s ever had to consider before.

William glances over his shoulder, his expression unreadable. “You needn’t worry. I’ll take the couch.”

Ronald pauses mid-motion, pulling his shirt off. “The couch?”

“Correct.” William confirms, pulling out his phone as he speaks. “I doubt you’d want to share a bed, especially in the buff.”

Ronald looks at the couch with a grimace. It’s lumpy, and from where he’s standing, it looks uncomfortable in every possible way. The only redeeming quality it has is the lack of any obvious stains, but beyond that, it’s not something he’d willingly spend the night on. He wonders if sharing the bed with William would be better–it’s only for one night, and William is a prude. Surely there’ll be no funny business. He can handle it. “Share the bed with me. It’s gonna be better than a couch that hasn’t had an arse on it for Styx knows how long.”

William turns fully to face him, his eyes briefly flicking to Ronald’s chest before meeting his gaze again. Ronald notices, and despite himself, feels a rush of confidence. “You’re absolutely certain you’ll be alright with that arrangement?”

“Yeah.” Ronald answers, a little too quickly.

Looking back at the couch, William knows Ronald is right. While the bed isn’t exactly the most inviting, the couch will surely ruin his back even more than it already is. “Alright.” he concedes, though his voice betrays a hint of unease. “First of all, please excuse me while I make a call to Slingby to let him know I’ll be late.” He starts to step toward the washroom, intending to give Ronald the privacy to change but when he tries the door, it doesn’t budge. He tries again, pushing against it, but it remains firmly locked. He steps back, noticing a slip of paper peeking out from under the door. 

He picks it up and reads the memo aloud. “I apologise if you were looking forward to a shower, Knox, but it seems the washroom is out of order.” He pauses, glancing at Ronald. “Seems a pipe burst.”

Ronald looks at William, disappointment clear on his face. “You serious?”

“I’m afraid so,” William replies, showing Ronald the paper before carefully taking it back to the washroom door.

“Shit.” Ronald frowns, frustration creeping into his voice. “I was lookin’ forward to a hot shower to wash off this dirt feel.”

“I’m sure that would’ve been nice,” William agrees, keeping his back turned. “Right, I’ll be making my call to Slingby. Let me know when you’re decent.”

Ronald nods, quickly shucking off his trousers. He brushes away the dust from the arm of the couch, grimacing at the state of the furniture before laying his trousers over it. He doesn’t like the idea of his clothes touching anything in this place, but it’s better to try to keep them as wrinkle-free as possible. He then returns to the bed, double-checking the sheet for anything suspicious. When he deems it good enough, he sits down. The springs creak under his weight, the mattress lumpy and the sheets scratchy. He sighs as he removes his glasses, dreading the night ahead. 

As William finishes his call, his voice is quiet but professional. “Yes, thank you, Slingby. I apologise once again for the inconvenience, but the storm caught me by surprise. Thank you again and goodnight. I apologise for waking you.” He hangs up the phone, “are you decent?”

“I guess as much as I can be.”

 So he turns to Ronald, who’s tucked under the sheet. “Well?”

“Awful.” Ronald admits. “But gotta make do, right?”

“Unfortunately,” William replies, setting his phone on the nightstand and adjusting the alarm. He then returns to his suitcase, pulling out his pyjamas. “I sincerely hope you don’t mind sleeping with me.”

“Why would I?” Ronald responds, folding his arms behind his head.

“Well, for one, I am your superior. Secondly, you’re naked.” William explains, shrugging off his blazer and folding it over the other arm of the couch.

Ronald stretches, unconcerned. “You’re not the first person I’ve slept naked next to.”

William raises an eyebrow as he begins to unbutton his shirt. “Does that happen often?” he asks, unbuckling his belt.

“Often enough,” Ronald admits, a small, knowing smile tugging at his lips. His eyes lazily follow William’s hands as he undresses. “I mean, if that’s what we’re both looking for, what’s the problem?”

William rolls his eyes, clearly exasperated. “Honestly, Knox.”

“What? C’mon, sir, sometimes you need a good lay!”

“I wouldn’t know, nor do I want to. Having intercourse with someone you hardly know doesn’t seem like a good time to me.”

“You’re too vanilla,” Ronald says with a teasing grin.

“And you’re too reckless,” William retorts, making a spinning motion with his finger. “Now turn around so I may change.”

Ronald chuckles and obeys, rolling to his side to face the wall, unable to stop his mind from lingering on what William said. Maybe he should be more selective with the people he chooses to spend the night with but if both of them are after the same thing–a no-strings-attached kind of night–what’s the harm? Maybe William’s right in his own way, but Ronald knows what he wants, and for now, that’s enough.

He feels the bed dip as William settles down beside him, the springs creaking again in protest. With his glasses safely placed next to his phone, William reaches for the lamp and flicks it off, plunging the room into darkness. “You’re right,” William says, his voice low after a brief silence. “This is bloody awful.”

“Innit?” Ronald turns his head, his gaze finding William’s back. 

“Indeed.” William replies, his tone heavy with resignation. Lying in the dark with his underling wasn’t at all how he had expected the day to end. He’d been hoping for his own bed, with his own pillow and blankets, the comforting familiarity of home, but no, that’s not what fate had chosen for him. “I apologise again, Knox, for nearly causing us to crash,” William adds, his voice carrying some form of guilt.

“Don’t worry about it, sir.” Ronald responds with a lazy shrug, “like I said, it wasn’t like it was gonna kill us.”

“It still might have maimed us.”

Ronald chuckles. “Yeah, okay. Maybe.” There’s a beat of silence before the low rumble of thunder fills the air again, distant but deep, like a warning. The sound lingers for a moment before fading. “So night?” Ronald asks, breaking the quiet.

“Yes. Goodnight, Ronald.” William replies, his body still and rigid in the dark.

As the silence thickens, Ronald doubts either of them will get much sleep. He knows he won’t. The wind howls outside, throwing rain against the windows in a constant assault. Normally, the sound would be soothing, comforting even, but tonight, it only heightens his unease. It feels like the storm outside is echoing the storm inside him, a nervous, restless energy he can’t shake.

The cold creeps into the room too, poor insulation making the air feel damp and chill. Ronald shivers under the thin sheets, wishing he had an extra layer like William does. His thoughts flicker briefly to ask William if he can warm him up, but he can’t find the words. His mouth feels dry, his mind too tangled in discomfort to speak up. 

Instead, he rolls onto his side, curling into a tight ball, wrapping his arms around himself in a feeble attempt to ward off the cold. He tells himself he can make it through the night like this, that it’s just one night, and tomorrow they’ll leave this wretched place behind. He’ll survive. He can make it through the night.

Chapter Text

Eric drops his phone onto his lap, then rubs at his eyes, reluctant to check the time. He already knows it’s early–too early–and the resentment towards William bubbles up again. He’d been sleeping so well, fully expecting to stay in bed and not have to get up in the morning, after all, he and Alan had arrived home incredibly late, having finished the paperwork they’d needed to do. The thought of the alarm he’ll need to set fills him with dread. Grumbling under his breath, he resets the alarm, one he made a show of deliberately turning off before going to sleep.

The room is suddenly flooded with bright light, followed by a deafening clap of thunder. The rain, which he’d managed to tune out, now lashes against the windows. The wind howls, forcing branches to bang against the glass, the lighting casting long, eerie shadows across the bed. Eric hadn’t realised just how severe the storm was; maybe he can’t be too angry with William for wanting to stay somewhere overnight. Even he wouldn’t want to drive in this weather. "It sounds awful out there," Alan murmurs, his voice muffled by the warmth of the blankets as he lies beside his partner. "I don’t think we’ve had a storm this bad in quite a while."

"No, we haven’t," Eric agrees, his gaze lingering on the window before shifting to Alan, who struggles to roll over, tangled in the sheets. "What woke you? The storm or the phone?"

"The phone, mostly." Alan replies, trying to fight off the blanket to sit up. Eric smiles at his lover, watching him struggle for a moment before offering assistance, finding the edge of the blanket and unwrapping Alan from his cocoon. "Thanks," Alan smiles once he’s finally free. "And if I heard correctly, it was William?"

Eric sighs. "Aye. It was. He got caught in the storm on his way home, so he decided to stay somewhere overnight. Looks like I’ve got to cover for him for one more day."

Alan pouts, snatching Eric’s phone from his lap and glaring at it as though it’s the phone’s fault. He unlocks the device and glares even harder at William’s number, seriously considering calling him back and trying to convince him to continue driving home despite the weather. "Ugh, you were meant to have tomorrow off, and I was going to be back at work."

Eric runs his fingers through Alan’s dishevelled hair, gently untangling a few stubborn knots. "I can handle one more day, Al."

Alan closes his eyes, leaning into Eric’s touch. “Maybe…I just worry about you.” he admits, scooting closer to rest his head on Eric’s shoulder. “You’ve already worked so hard, and you were so looking forward to your day off.”

He really had been. Eric planned to sleep in, cook whatever he fancied, and then spend the rest of the day curled up on the couch with the book he was so close to finishing. After that, he’d spoil Alan with a grand dinner, featuring all of his favourite dishes, before taking his lover to bed to truly make up for lost time. It had all seemed so perfect, but now, none of it would happen. “I know, but I can do it.” He takes his phone from Alan’s hands, avoiding the temptation to turn off the alarm he’d reset. He places it on the nightstand next to his glasses and nearly-finished book. “I promise, and when Spears does come back and gives me that night off, I’ll make us a fancy dinner.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Alan says, though a smile tugs at the corner of his lips as he imagines the scene. Eric, standing at the stove, skin glistening with sweat, cooking in nothing but an apron. “Well, I wouldn’t complain.”

“No? My hen wouldn’t complain about being pampered after a hard day at the office?” Eric teases, nudging Alan’s head off his shoulder so he can kiss the soft skin of Alan’s neck.

A flush rises to Alan’s cheeks as Eric places gentle nips and kisses over his throat. "No. No, I really wouldn’t," Alan admits, biting his lower lip, feeling Eric’s hands slowly drift up his nightshirt. As much as he’s eager to let Eric continue, especially now that he feels stable enough to enjoy it, he knows Eric has an early morning ahead. “Eric, stop. Not now,” Alan protests, grabbing Eric’s wrists. “You have work in the morning!”

Eric groans, burying his face in the crook of Alan’s neck and shoulder. “Right. Yeah, okay, I’ll be good.” He holds Alan for a few extra moments, then reluctantly releases him to lay back down. “Styx, I really wish I didn’t have to.”

Alan lays next to Eric, resting his head on Eric’s broad, strong chest, and gently runs the tips of his fingers over Eric’s arm. “I wish you didn’t either.” Another flash of lightning illuminates the room, and the thunder cracks again, shaking the windows with its intensity. “Wow…” Alan whispers, pulling the blanket around them both. “I hope William’s alright. I can’t imagine getting caught in a storm like this, especially after driving for so long.”

Eric takes a deep breath, his hand soothingly running up and down Alan’s spine. “I’m sure Spears is fine. Like he told me, he found a place to stay for the night, so it’s not like he’s stuck on the side of the road.”

“True.” Alan murmurs, his eyes fluttering shut. “Hopefully it’s at least a decent place.”

Eric continues to run his hand over Alan’s back, the gesture both comforting and affectionate. While he does it to calm Alan, it also helps soothe his own nerves, feeling Alan’s steady breathing beneath his palm. “When you and Spears were dating, did he take ye anywhere?”

Alan spares a glance at Eric, trying to search his face for any hint of malice behind the question, but Eric isn’t even looking at him. His gaze is fixed on the window, mesmerised by the steady pattering of rain against the glass. "Once." Alan finally answers, closing his eyes. "This was before he got promoted to his current position, so he was able to find some time off. During that time, he took me to a beautiful, serene place in Ireland. It was a lovely hotel with a garden full of flowers in full bloom and the greenest grass I’ve ever seen." He smiles softly, realising it’s one of the few truly happy memories he has with William. "The room we stayed in had a balcony overlooking the garden, and we'd sit out there with coffee while watching the sunrise. It was truly beautiful, Eric." His smile falters. "It was the first and last time we went anywhere together."

Eric had always wondered about Alan and William’s relationship. Alan never spoke much of it, offering only a few brief snippets whenever Eric had asked before. "I’m gonna guess ye left him after?" 

"Soon after, I did." Alan admits, his voice tinged with guilt. He sits up slightly, rubbing at his arms, as though trying to shake off the discomfort. "I still feel guilty about it, you know. Leaving him like I did."

Eric is pulled from his trance when Alan sits up, and he follows suit, concern flickering in his eyes. He’s not sure what to say about the situation as Alan has never told him the full story before. It's the one secret between them, something Eric can only guess at. "What happened, love? Ye know ye can tell me anythin'."

Alan slowly shakes his head, his expression darkening. "I…I don’t want to talk about it. Not yet, anyway."

Eric had guessed that would be the answer, so he doesn’t push. Instead, he gently tugs Alan back into his arms, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. "Ye don’t gotta, love. Ye never do."

Alan finally relaxes in Eric’s strong embrace, feeling safe and secure. "I know, and that’s why I love you," he sighs. "One day, I’ll tell you. Just...not tonight."

Eric rocks them back and forth, the storm still howling outside but a strange peace has settled over them. The sound of rain and wind remains threatening, but they find solace in each other’s arms. "I love ye too, Alan."

********************

There’s an eerie silence that William wakes to. Not a single bird, no gust of wind, no ambient sounds at all. Even stranger, there’s no shrill beeping of his alarm. An unfamiliar weight presses down on his chest, and pins and needles run through his left arm. Is it morning? Night? His eyelids struggle open, but his vision doesn’t offer much clarity. The room is unfamiliar, that much he can tell. When he strains to look outside, all he sees is a blurry grey blob. He lays back, trying to recall anything from last night, but even as his memory slowly pieces itself back together, there are still many unanswered questions.

In an attempt to answer one of them, he tries to grab his phone, but the weight on his left arm keeps him from twisting at the right angle to reach the nightstand. Lifting his head, he squints harder, trying to make sense of the bright-coloured lump he sees. Knox. The younger reaper is laying on him. The lump of hair is unmistakably Ronald’s, and he feels the flyaway fringe tickling just beneath his jaw. Ronald has taken over William’s side of the bed entirely, using William more as a pillow than his own. His arm is draped over William’s chest, his leg the same over William’s own. The younger reaper’s warm breath ghosting over William’s neck, accompanied by the faintest snoring, is something William, begrudgingly, finds endearing.

He tries again to reach for his glasses, but still struggles with the awkward angle he’s in. While part of him doesn’t want to disturb what could almost be mistaken for a meaningful moment between them, he knows he needs Ronald awake. “Knox,” William murmurs, gently pushing against the younger reaper’s shoulder. “Knox, I need you to wake up.” 

All he gets is a groan of protest and a tightening of Ronald’s grip around him. “Ten more minutes,” Ronald mumbles, burying his face further into William’s neck.

A shiver runs through William at the sensation, feeling Ronald’s lips press gently against his skin. If he were a lesser man, he’d worry about his body’s reaction to such an intimate gesture. Instead, he grunts and shoves harder on Ronald’s shoulder. “Knox, now. I need to check the time.”

After a few more minutes of persistent shaking, Ronlad finally shoves himself away from William, flopping dramatically onto his back. “Fiiine.” Without any regard for his nudity, Ronald throws off the sheet, leaps out of bed and stretches his arms overhead.

In that moment, William is caught between gratitude and resentment for his poor eyesight. “You’re aware you’re still in the buff, aren’t you?”

Ronald stands there for a moment, letting the comment settle before his usual bravado kicks in. He places his hands on his hips, smirking down at William. “And?”

“Do you practise modesty?” William inquires, sitting up and quickly rubbing the numbness from his arm.

“For the most part, but hey! When you’ve got it, flaunt it, right?” Ronald shrugs, playing off what should’ve been an awkward moment. “Besides, what’s there to hide? There’s nothin’ we both haven’t seen before.”

While inherently true, William likes to think there’s a line to be drawn when it comes to one's naked body and their superior viewing said body. “You’re a brazen young man,” he mutters, turning towards the nightstand to grab his glasses.

“When you look like me, you can afford to be.” Ronald quips, winking as he maintains his cocky tone. “Plus, I’m just used to hangin’ around Eric.”

William looks at Ronald again, taking in what little of him he can make out before he puts on his glasses and loses the chance to admire the younger man in front of him. “Should I ask?”

“Eric’s just really comfortable with his body. When we hit the showers together after the gym, and if there’s no towels left or he forgets his own, he’s got no problem walkin’ around the locker room in the buff.” He shrugs again. “I mean, he’s not the only guy that does it, but he’s probably the best lookin’ one.” William assumes he’s gotten his full answer, but just as he slides his glasses onto his nose, Ronald adds, “Not that I noticed, or anything.” William quirks an eyebrow at that but doesn’t press. He may not completely like Eric for his own personal reasons, but even he has to admit that the older reaper is quite handsome.

When he adjusts his spectacles properly on his nose and blinks away the remaining blur, his eyes are quickly drawn to the grey mass he’d noticed earlier. Now, he knows exactly what he’s looking at. Fog. “Hell, that’s incredibly thick,” William mutters, throwing the sheet off himself and moving toward the window. “I think this might be the thickest fog I’ve seen.”

Ronald stands beside him once he’s put on his own glasses, and he has to agree. The cement pathway just outside the window is barely visible. It’s like the whole world has been consumed by it. “Yeah…yeah, that’s really bad.”

Out of habit, William turns to address the person he’s speaking with, but then quickly turns his back on Ronad, momentarily forgetting about Ronald’s undressed state. “Knox, please. Some clothes.” he says, adjusting his glasses in a flurry, pushing them up and down in small increments as he tries to fight off the unfamiliar flush on his cheeks.

Ronald’s face turns red hot as he spins around, mirroring William’s reaction. “Uh…what’d you see?”

“Enough.”

“Ah, yeah. Right. Sorry. I’ll get dressed now.”

“Thank you,” William mutters, returning to the nightstand to grab his phone. As expected, he had an alarm set for six that morning; it’s clearly displayed in the upper right-hand corner of the screen, and he double-checks the clock to make sure it’s switched on, which it is. Then why does his phone show it’s already eight and his alarm hasn’t gone off? “Knox, you didn’t happen to hear my alarm at all, did you?”

Ronald pauses, buttoning up his trousers, and looks up at William. “Don’t think so, but then again, I was pretty dead to the world when I passed out, so I could’ve missed it.”

“Hm. Strange. Are you decent?”

“I got my trousers on, so you’re not gonna get another peek at little Knox if that’s what you’re worried about.”

William closes his eyes, taking a steadying breath. “Wonderful.” He turns around, thankful that Ronald is at least halfway dressed, and does his best to ignore the shirtless reaper as he heads to his suitcase, unlatching it and pushing it open. 

Another strange thing William notices about his phone is that it’s not changing time. It remains stubbornly at eight, so he hopes to get an accurate reading from his watch. The leather strap is worn, and the glass is scratched and nicked, but he used to think that if it still worked, there was no point in replacing it. It was a philosophy that applied to his phone, too–having an older model than most of the reapers–but now, he’s left wondering if he should replace his watch as well. Even it is telling him that it’s still eight. He knows that, at the very least, a minute should have passed by now. “Knox, you wouldn’t happen to have the time, would you?”

“Yeah! Lemme check my–” he freezes, his bare wrist staring him in the face. Right. His watch was stolen, no doubt pawned off or, even worse, someone claiming it as theirs and showing it off without knowing its real history. “Nevermind.” He sighs, his shoulders sagging. “Sorry, sir, but my watch is gone, remember?”

“Mm. That’s right.” William clicks his tongue in frustration, trying to reset his watch in the hopes of fixing it. Even manually, the hands remain stubbornly at eight. “Look at this.”

Ronald stands next to William, flicking his attention between the phone and the watch. “What…am I lookin’ at?”

“The time.”

“It’s eight?”

“It’s been eight for longer than a minute.” William explains. “The time won’t change.”

Ronald stares, his eyes darting between the two devices, trying to will them to move forward, but they don’t. He shivers, feeling the hairs on the back of his neck rise. “Freaky.”

“It’s beyond ‘freaky.’ It’s abnormal.” William mutters, still latching his watch around his wrist as he takes a deep breath. “Perhaps the rain had a hand in this.”

“Yeah, sure.” As unrealistic as the suggestion was, it was better than any alternative.

“Regardless of what the clocks say, I know we’re behind schedule, and I want to be back on track as soon as possible.”

Ronald stares out the window again, buttoning his shirt. “You sure you wanna drive in this?” He hesitates. “Especially after last night?”

William frowns, unbuttoning his own nightshirt. Ronald had a point. Who’s to say that what happened last night wouldn’t happen again this morning? As horrible as the visibility was in the rain, it’s even worse now, and William doesn’t want to get them into an even worse situation. “I don’t have a choice.” He shrugs off his shirt, trying to sound confident. “Last night was a fluke. I’ve had proper sleep, so I won’t be drowsy on the drive home.” He says it with the confidence he doesn’t truly feel.

“You sure you wouldn’t want me to drive again?”

“Yes, Knox. I’m sure.”

“Okay…” Ronald reluctantly agrees, but he’s clearly worried. “Or, we could wait for the fog to lift a bit before we get going.”

“No.”

“Why? Just give Eric a call, tell him we’ll be later than expected, and we’ll be home when we get home.”

“Because Slingby was not meant to work today.”

“He wasn’t…?”

“No. I specifically gave him today off because I assumed I’d be home by now.” He tucks his pyjamas away once he’s dressed, shutting the lid of his suitcase with a purposeful thunk .

“Shit.” Ronald bounds towards the door. “Come on, let’s get going then.” William agrees, ready to continue their journey home, but as he gathers his suitcase and joins Ronald at the door, a sudden wave of lethargy washes over him. He shakes his head, attributing it to the lack of coffee. “Sir?” Ronald asks, noticing the weariness in his movements. “Are you alright?”

“Just give me a moment.” William responds, needing to sit on the edge of the bed for a moment’s rest.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, Knox. I just think the lack of caffeine is catching up with me.”

Ronald crouches in front of William, frowning as he tilts his head. “Are you sure?”

William closes his eyes, turning his head away to avoid the concerned look on Ronald’s face. “Yes.” He takes a deep breath, pushing himself up from the bed. “Let’s go.” 

Though Ronald doesn’t entirely believe William, he says nothing and simply nods, following him outside. The cold air bites at them, but it isn’t the usual chill of London. This cold feels more visceral, as though it’s seeping into their bones, emanating from deep within. Ronald rubs his arms in a futile attempt to warm himself, but the icy air seems relentless, no matter how much they move or how many layers they wear. “I can’t wait to be home.” Ronald mutters, trailing behind William as they head into the main building.

“Nor can I.” William replies, approaching the front desk. Just like the night before, the desk is empty. “Hello?” he calls, his voice echoing off the walls. He’s not surprised when no one answers. Even as he leans over the counter, he notices the money he left there the night before is still in the same place. “Stay here, Knox. I want to see if there’s anyone in the back,” he tells the younger reaper, setting his suitcase down. Ronald nods slowly, his anxiety building the further William goes until he can no longer see him. He starts shifting from one foot to the other, trying to steady his racing thoughts and almost instinctively, he grabs William’s suitcase and hugs it tightly to his chest. For some reason, the weight of it offers him a small comfort.

When William eventually returns, it’s obvious he hasn’t found anyone. “So, I’m guessing you didn’t find what you were looking for?” Ronald asks, doubt in his voice.

“No, which puzzles me.” William replies, running a hand through his hair in thought. “If this place is open and has booking’s as the guest registry clearly says it does, then why does it feel as if there’s not a single soul in this building?” He looks around the lobby, eyes narrowing. “Perhaps some of the other guests can help us.” He notices Ronald holding his suitcase, a curious look crossing his face. “What are you doing?”

Ronald looks down at it, then quickly sets it back on the ground. “Just holding it, y’know...making sure no one nicks it.” He shrugs, trying to appear casual, though his face betrays his anxiety.

“Mm. Well, do me a favour and see if you can speak to anyone else in these rooms. I’d like to get some answers.”

“What about you?”

“I’ll do a more thorough search of the back rooms. Maybe I’ll find someone lurking back there.”

“Yeah. Good luck with that,” Ronald mutters under his breath as William heads off.

As William disappears into the back of the motel, Ronald fights the urge to grab the suitcase again but forces himself to leave it where it is and step outside the main building. The fog hasn’t lifted, and the heavy mist clings to everything. Ronald feels a sense of unease, half-expecting someone–or something–to emerge from the thick haze to snatch him away.

He pushes the thought aside, determined to focus on the task at hand. He knocks on the motel room doors, but the silence that follows feels like it’s pressing in on him. From what he recalls, the only vacant room last night was the one he and William took, so there should still be someone in at least one of the other rooms. Should . 

He knocks on one door after another, but no one answers. Ronald is growing desperate as he reaches the last door, pounding his fist against the wood. “Hello?! Anyone in there?!” He waits a solid minute, but the silence is suffocating. No reply. He doesn’t understand it. He’s faced demons of all kinds without so much as flinching, yet this fog? This oppressive atmosphere? It’s gnawing at his nerves in a way he can’t shake.

“Well? Did you manage to find anyone?” William asks when Ronald meets him back at the front of the building, his tone quiet but with an edge of impatience.

“Nope.” Ronald hugs himself again, the cold seeping deeper. “Maybe they all checked out at the same time?”

“Unlikely.” William mutters, more to himself than to Ronald, his eyes scanning over Ronald’s shoulder, studying the doors. He adjusts his grip on his suitcase and then nods slightly. “Right, let’s be off then.”

“As quick as we can.” Ronald agrees, following William closely, not wanting to fall too far behind. From the little he can see, none of the cars they saw last night have gone. Everything remains exactly the same–except for the unnatural fog that continues to thicken around them. The silence is almost unbearable now. The only sound is their footsteps on the tarmac, each step a reminder of the emptiness surrounding them.

Somehow, though, William manages to locate his car and he opens the backseat door to toss his suitcase in before he pauses, staring at the car for a moment. He hates to admit it, but the weariness still clouds his mind. It’s a blow to his pride, but it's a far better option than potentially driving them into danger again. “Knox. Would you mind driving?”

Ronald pops up from the other side of the car, surprise written all over his face. “Really?!”

“Yes.” William admits, sighing. “I’m in no state to drive. My mind’s still foggy, I’m afraid.”

“Then yeah. Absolutely.” They switch positions, Ronald closing the door behind him as he sits down in the driver's seat. William slides into the passenger side, and Ronald takes the keys, turning the ignition. The engine purrs to life, and the warm air from the heaters eases away the chill that’s been gnawing at them both. 

“You do have a really nice car.” Ronald remarks, adjusting the seat a little to make it more comfortable for himself.

“It’s one of the few pleasures I’ve afforded myself.” William replies, staring down at his phone with a frown. The clock still reads eight, an unchanging number. He doesn’t mention to Ronald that every clock he’s seen since arriving has been stuck at the same time. “Well? Do you know which way to go?”

“If I remember right, I drove in on the right, so we turn left out of the parking lot, right?”

“Right?”

“Yeah.”

“I thought we entered from the left.”

Ronald furrows his brows, confused. “Did we?” He looks over at William, a hint of suspicion creeping into his voice. “No offence, sir, but you were kinda out of it, so are you sure you’re remembering right?”

William feels a surge of defensiveness rise within him. How dare Ronald question him…but, as if his ego needed another blow, the younger reaper is right again. William can barely remember anything from last night’s drive. “I…well, perhaps not,” he admits, his tone softer than he would like. He takes a deep breath, shoving his phone into his pocket. “I trust your judgement, Knox. If you say we should turn left, then take the left.”

Hearing William explicitly say he trusts him gives Ronald a boost of confidence. He flashes a quick smile at the older reaper before slowly pulling out of the parking space. It takes a bit of time to navigate the fog-cloaked area, but eventually, Ronald spots the exit and takes the left turn, feeling certain he’s made the right choice.

The drive is eerily quiet. Unlike last night, when the atmospheric rain broke the silence between them, there’s nothing now but the hum of the engine. Ronald glances over at William once, and sees that the older reaper is asleep in his seat, his head bowed and his hands folded neatly in his lap. It doesn’t look overly comfortable, but how comfortable can one be while sleeping sitting up? Ronald contemplates searching the car for one of William’s CDs, just to have something to listen to, but quickly dismisses the idea. William’s trusting him to drive, and Ronald figures he trusts him not to split his attention, especially not to rummage around in the car for something inconsequential.

The fog hasn’t cleared, either. If anything, it seems to have thickened since they left. He can no longer see the trees that usually line the road, and the front of the car is barely visible. It feels as if the mist is closing in, suffocating everything around them. Ronald remains hypervigilant, gripping the steering wheel tight, prepared to slam on the brakes if necessary, though he doubts he’d be able to stop in time if something were to suddenly appear in the mist. Then again, who would be out here? As he and William had noticed last night and this morning, everything is empty. No one seems to be around–not a soul, not a single vehicle, not even an animal. He can’t help but feel that, despite the danger of the fog, they are at least safe from other drivers or pedestrians.

All things considered, everything seems to be going smoothly. Ronald wishes he knew how long he’s been driving, or how much further it would be until they reach home, but he tries to focus on the thought of his own bed waiting for him. He’s looking forward to collapsing into his bed as soon as he can, sleeping soundly for a good long while before he needs to wake up for work the next day. Once he’s rested, he’ll find his so-called ‘friends’ and demand to know why they left him stranded out in the middle of nowhere, why they stole his watch and phone. Bad enough they abandoned him, but to steal from him too? He’s said it before, and he’ll say it again: knobheads.

Then, without warning, something happens. Despite his foot still firmly pressing the gas pedal, and the fuel gauge showing plenty of petrol left, the car gradually slows to a stop. It takes him a moment to realise that they’ve come to a halt, given the thick fog and limited visibility, he hadn’t noticed it at first, but once he does, his stomach drops. He quickly cuts the engine and restarts it. Nothing. He tries again, pressing the gas pedal harder, as if that might make a difference, but still, the car remains dead. 

He swallows hard, not because of the car’s failure, but because he knows how William will react. The older reaper is still fast asleep, and Ronald dreads having to wake him up, but he knows he has no choice. He needs to tell William what’s happened. Reluctantly, he reaches over and shakes William’s shoulder. “Sir? Mr. Spears? You’ve got to wake up.”

Unlike Ronald, William wakes up easily, shifting in his seat as his consciousness returns to him. He lifts his head and squints out the window, as if trying to make sense of why he’s being woken when they’re not yet home. “Knox?” he asks, his voice thick with sleep. “Where are we?”

“Um...well, you see, I dunno.” Ronald admits with surprise in his voice. “The car just kinda…stopped.”

“Stopped?” William repeats, sounding confused.

“Yeah. It was fine for…however long it’s been, but then it just stopped.”

William continues to stare at him, the weight of the information sinking in. “It. Just. Stopped?”

Ronald swallows, nodding. “Yep.”

William shifts his gaze to the dashboard, as if hoping for some explanation that might make more sense. After a brief pause, he opens the passenger side door, but in the process, he moves too quickly or the wrong way, and once again, he winces with a sharp hiss, sinking back down into the seat. “Damn it.”

“Sir?” Ronald asks in a calm tone, hoping this time for a proper response. “You okay?”

William takes a deep breath, trying to steady himself. “I’ll be fine.” he answers, reaching into his coat pocket and pulling out a small bottle of pills. 

“What are those?”

“Painkillers.” William replies, his voice tinged with gratitude. “I injured my back years ago, and it never healed properly.”

Never healed properly? Ronald finds that odd. A reaper is usually capable of healing from any wound, no matter how severe, demons included. The only wound that is difficult to recover from is from…a Death Scythe. Ronald’s mind races with possibilities about what could have happened, but he doesn’t ask knowing William wouldn’t tell him anyway. “I promise, Mr. Spears, I didn’t do anything.”

“I believe you.” William pockets the bottle before opening the door and stepping out of the car. Ronald follows him, joining him at the front where William pops open the bonnet. The mechanics of a car are a mystery to Ronald, but William reaches in with his bare hands and begins to examine the engine, looking as if he knows exactly what he’s doing. “Try turning the engine on for me.” William directs, stepping back from the car. Ronald nods, returning to the driver's seat and leaning over it, twisting the key in the ignition. Nothing. So William fiddles some more then asks Ronald to try again. Still nothing. William’s frown deepens with each attempt, and after a fourth try, he lets out a frustrated grunt. “Damn it, what’s wrong with this bloody thing?” He presses his palm to his forehead, staring at the engine as if willing the problem to reveal itself.

Ronald stands beside him, feeling equally helpless. “So, we’re stuck?”

“No.” William replies quickly, “No, of course not. I’ll figure it out.”

Ronald crosses his arms, unconvinced. “No offence, sir, but I don’t think you’re gonna get it working.”

“I can’t just leave my car in the middle of the road.” William mutters, glancing back at the vehicle. “It’s not like we can walk the rest of the way home either.”

“I don’t think we can do anything else.” Ronald steps forward, pulling the bonnet closed with a firm tug. “Sir, come on. Why don’t you try calling someone for help before we end up walking back to the motel?”

William stands still for a moment, contemplating the suggestion before reluctantly pulling out his phone. “Yes, alright.” He dials Grell’s number, knowing she’s got a car and might be able to come to their rescue but as he dials her number and holds his phone to his ear, something’s wrong: there’s no ringing, no voicemail. Just silence. “She must be out on collections.” he mutters to himself. Their phones don’t work well when one reaper is in a different plane than the other. With a sigh, he hangs up and dials Alan. Again, there’s nothing but silence on the other end. William curses softly under his breath and dials a third number, more out of desperation than hope. Eric would surely be in the realm if he’s taking over for William today, but once again, the line is dead. “What…?”

“What’s wrong?” Ronald asks, his voice edged with concern as he watches William’s growing irritation.

“None of my calls are getting through.”

Ronald slowly cocks his head, confusion etched on his face. “Like…straight to voicemail?”

“No. No voicemail, no ringing, nothing,” William responds, trying to think of a plausible answer for this.

“Nothing. Okay. Good. Great. Just great.” Ronald groans, throwing his head back in disbelief. “So we’re really stuck here then?”

“Let’s just return to the motel and figure things out from there.” William tucks his phone away, already walking back the way they came.

“Wait, what about your stuff?” Ronald calls out, gesturing to the car, “your suitcase.”

William pauses, taking a breath. “Right.” He turns on his heels and returns to the car. He grabs the handle of the door to the back passenger seat, but it doesn’t budge. He tries again, and again, but the door remains stubbornly closed. Locked. “Odd.” He pats down his coat, searching for his keyes then remembering Ronald’s the one that should have them. “Do you have my keys?” he asks, a note of impatience slipping into his voice.

Ronald blinks a few times, then goes pale. “I left them in the ignition.”

“Excuse me?”

“I left them in the ignition?”

William stares at him for a long moment, his mind reeling, before turning to look through the driver's side window. Sure enough, the keys dangle mockingly from the ignition. “Damn it all!” he snaps, slamming his hand off the roof of the car. “The bloody doors are locked.”

Ronald’s face pales even further, if that’s possible. “I’m so sorry, sir. I didn’t think–”

“The doors shouldn’t be locked,” William interrupts. “I never locked them, and they don’t lock on their own.” He removes his glasses, rubbing the heel of his palm over his eyes. “Shit.” The curse slips from William’s lips, quieter now, as he tries to compose himself.  After a long moment, William finally gathers himself and takes a deep breath. “Right, well that answers that. Let’s return to the motel and hopefully get everything sorted.” He replaces his glasses on his nose and starts walking back the way they came. Ronald watches him for a beat before quickly catching up, eager not to lose sight of him. 

The chill in the air bites at them without the warmth of the car. For a moment, Ronald debates whether it’s worth pressing up against William to share body heat, but he quickly pushes the thought away. A little cold won’t hurt. He doesn’t need to show his superior that he’s weak to something as trivial as chilly weather. He’ll endure it, just as he did last night, despite the creeping feeling of unease worming its way up his spine.

The longer they walk, the more William’s doubt grows. With each step, the tension between them thickens, and William’s frustration with himself mounts. He’s ready to apologise to Ronald for making such poor decisions, for leading them in what feels like the wrong direction, when finally, something emerges from the thickening fog. 

A large sign looms ahead, almost impossibly clear against the misty backdrop. It reads ‘WELCOME TO HAVEN’ in bold, thick white letters, set against a deep forest green backdrop. “What on Earth?” William mutters, his voice a mix of disbelief and confusion.

“Uh…I haven’t lost the plot, have I, sir?” Ronald asks, staring at the sign in the same disbelief. “I don’t remember seein’ this sign when we were comin’ or goin’.”

“No. I didn’t either.” William agrees, looking behind them, his brow furrowing. He swears they’ve only walked back the same way they came, so how did they end up here? “We may just have to count our blessings, Knox. We might be able to call for assistance in town somewhere.”

Ronald stares up at William, incredulity. “This is a blessing?”

“As close to one as we’re going to get.” William takes a confident step forward, his posture strong, but Ronald remains frozen, his feet unwilling to move. There’s something nagging at the back of his mind, something that tells him not to take another step further. “Knox?” William calls, noticing the younger reaper’s hesitation.

“Yeah…coming.” Ronald forces the words out, his voice tight, though he’s still reluctant to move.

“Is something wrong?”

“Besides the obvious?” Ronald rubs his arms again, trying to force himself to feel more composed, more in control. “Something’s telling me to stay away.”

William pauses, glancing back at the sign. Then he walks back to Ronald, his footsteps slow and deliberate. “I’m sure last night still has you rattled, along with everything we’ve just gone through. I admit, I’m a bit tense myself, but I do believe we may find some help in that town. All we need is a phone to call for assistance.” He notices Ronald still looks uncertain and sighs. “Look, we can’t just stand here. We need to move forward.” Ronald shakes his head slightly, still feeling the weight of unease that the fog seems to wrap around him like an unseen shroud. He watches William for a moment, feeling the pressure in the air between them, before William glances down at his hand and offers it to the younger reaper. “Hold my hand so we don’t lose each other in this fog.”

Ronald stares at William’s hand for almost too long. Hold William’s hand? Hold another man’s hand? His eyes flick back to William and he actually sees William’s only doing this to reassure Ronald that they’ll be okay. It’s still strange for him and his hesitation is obvious but eventually, he places his hand in William’s palm. The way those fingers enclose around his hand and the subtle squeeze of assurance William gives him does give him a slight boost of confidence but it’s soon dashed as they continue forward into the unknown. There’s something ahead that’s waiting for them and they’re walking right into its trap.

Chapter Text

The blessing William said this town would be, seems nonexistent. Ronald’s unsure how long they’ve been walking, but it feels like years have passed by now. His calves ache, his feet feel as though he’s trudging through thick mud; he knows William can feel how sweaty his palm is. Fatigue like this should not affect them, yet much like the night when William picked him up, this exhaustion feels almost otherworldly. “Sir, can we stop for a second? I know you want to get home as soon as possible, so do I, but my feet are killing me.”

To Ronald’s surprise, William actually stops. He looks just as exhausted as Ronald does, even his usual perfect posture slouched into a more hunched position. “I hate admitting it, but mine are just as bad.” William says, reaching behind to rub at his back, trying to ease the dull throbbing pain along his spine. “I thought there would be something up ahead.” There’s still nothing around them, at least from what they can see–no defining landmarks or trees, just the endless stretch of asphalt they continue to walk down. “But I’m afraid we’ll have to keep walking.”

Ronald drops to the ground, stretching his legs out in front of him. “Where are we, sir? This sure as hell doesn’t feel like the realm.”

“I can’t answer that, Knox, but I know we must still be within our own boundaries. We’d know if we crossed over to the mortal side.” William winces as he touches a particularly sore spot along his back. “Damn it.” he murmurs, lowering his hand.

Ronald wants to offer assistance, but he’s not sure how severe the injury is, and knowing William would probably decline his offer anyway, he opts for another question. “Still can’t call anyone?”

William takes his phone from his pocket and stares at it, as if willing it to magically start working again. Eight o’clock. It mocks him, stuck on that same time, refusing to change. For Ronald’s sake, William dials Eric’s number once more, but he’s not at all surprised when the call doesn’t go through. Then, he tries to send a text as a last-ditch effort, but it doesn’t send, as though Eric’s blocked his number.

“I still can’t, no.” William finally answers, “we’re still stuck on our own.”

“Damn.” Ronald whines, leaning back on his arms. “Would’ve been nice to have someone come pick us up.”

“I doubt I could give them directions.”

Ronald glances around them, realising that giving directions when there’s absolutely nothing around to provide any reference would be pretty pointless. “Oh. Right. Good point.” He slides even further back on his arms, nearly flopping onto his back. “I’m starting to think this town doesn’t even exist.”

“I’m sure there’s something that must still remain if there’s a sign for it.” William says, tucking his phone into his pocket while squatting next to Ronald. “Although, the name of the town bothers me.”

Ronald tilts his head toward William, watching as the older reaper stares intently at the road. “Does it?”

“Haven. Very faintly, I recall hearing that name, but I can’t remember why or where, for the life of me.”

“Long shot, but maybe your parents?”

“I wouldn’t think so. I don’t see why they’d have any interest in such a place.”

Ronald shrugs. “I dunno, but if you’re struggling to remember, maybe it was when you were really young?”

William glances at him, then looks away. “I suppose that could be a theory. Quite obviously, I’ve not been that young in centuries, which would explain my lack of memory. But then I have to ask, why is this place so important that the name still rings even the smallest of bells?”

Ronald tilts his head, examining William. How old is he, really? It’s hard to determine from his appearance alone. Are the lines under his eyes from age, stress, or both? And Eric mentioned being a decade older than William, which doesn’t really help, considering Ronald doesn’t even know how old Eric is. “Do you mind if I ask how old you are, sir?”

“I do mind.” William snaps, glaring daggers at him. “I have no intention of making myself feel as old as I do, especially while travelling with you.”

Ronald shrugs off William’s sharp tone. “Fair enough.” He leans forward, placing his hands on his knees. “Then how’s your back?”

William glances at him over the top rim of his glasses, yet the look is far less cold than it had been just seconds ago. “The painkillers are wearing off a bit, but it’s nothing that’ll stop me from continuing to walk.” Ronald feels that’s a lie, but of course, with William, getting an honest answer about his well-being is like pulling teeth. “Now,” William begins, standing up, “are you done resting, or shall we waste even more time?” He stares down at Ronald like he’s a misbehaving child.

Ronald resists the urge to roll his eyes, knowing that William does have a point. Sitting in the middle of a desolate road isn’t helping anything. “Yeah, I’m ready.” He sucks in a breath before jumping up, letting it out as the soles of his feet start throbbing again. “Okay, maybe not ready, but let’s keep moving.”

“Excellent. The longer we dawdle, the longer–” William suddenly spins his head around so quickly that Ronald swears he’d break his neck. It startles him, and he looks around just as frantically, but as the seconds tick by, nothing happens. 

“Sir? What–?”

“Shh.” William hisses, shooting up his palm.

Ronald clamps his mouth shut and goes as still as a statue while William stares intently at nothing. He strains to listen as well. He’s not sure exactly what he’s meant to be listening for but then he hears it; something faint, something that almost sounds like whispering. His entire body runs cold, and he glances at William, watching the older reaper to see if they’re hearing the same thing. The slow step backward William takes suggests, yes, they are. There are no sudden movements; Ronald follows William’s lead until William gives him the signal to stop. It’s silent again. The whispers have faded. “Sir?” Ronald mutters.

William doesn’t answer right away. His hand remains up in the 'stop' position, his attention fixed on the fog behind them. Then, slowly, he lowers his hand and finally looks back at Ronald. “I take it I wasn’t the only one who heard that?”

“Nope.”

William frowns, crossing his arms as his eyes scan the ground. “I was rather hoping I was, because if you heard it, then that means there is… something out there.”

Ronald swallows. “I mean, could just be a person, right? Maybe someone who could help us?”

“No.” William’s response is immediate. “That was not someone offering assistance. I hesitate to even call it a person. Disembodied whispers such as those are never indicative of someone willing to help.”

Ronald swallows again. “Okay, let’s just chalk this up to...lack of caffeine, yeah? Like you said back at the motel?”

“Yes. Indeed. A lack of caffeine.” William turns back around, his eyes scanning the path ahead of them. “The fog seems to have lifted a bit.”

Ronald looks around as well and realises that William’s right. The thick fog that had been pressing at their heels now lingers farther back, easing away just enough to give them room to walk without losing sight of each other even if they take a few steps ahead. “Okay. Some good news.” Ronald says, sticking close to William. “Maybe we’ll finally come across this town.”

“I do hope so.” William continues to lead the way onward, and Ronald spares one more glance around them before following. He looks down at William’s hand, then at his own, wondering why he feels disappointed that their connection has been broken. He shakes it off. This whole day’s been strange, and it must be contributing to these strange feelings as well.

Even though the fog has lifted somewhat, there’s still no sign of any town or civilisation. Ronald’s feet are aching terribly, and from the way William’s walking, he can tell the older reaper’s back is acting up again. He wants to suggest another break, but he already knows William would rather push through the pain than waste time ‘sitting around’. At this point, Ronald would accept overtime if he’s honest. No, he’d welcome it–at least that would mean he’d be at home. Surely, someone has to have noticed that he and William are missing by now, especially if William told Eric he’d be home by that morning. Maybe his absence isn’t all that strange, but William not following through with his schedule? That has to raise red flags. The boss missing should get people talking.

Just as he’s about to collapse, something emerges from the fog ahead of them–large, square shadows that become clearer with each step. With a sudden burst of energy, he sprints past William, thinking they’ve finally reached Haven, but as he gets closer, the state of the town hits him hard. The fog seems to part as if welcoming him, but all it reveals is a town that feels long abandoned. Some shops have boarded-up windows or newspapers plastered across the glass, the vehicles are dormant, rusted, the wind blowing a newspaper across the street, some streetlamps have their glass shattered, bulbs missing. Whatever help William had hoped to find here is nonexistent. “Oh, come on.” Ronald groans, sinking to his knees as his last shard of hope shatters. “There’s nothing here!”

He wallows in his own dismay, hardly hearing William’s footsteps approach. “Stop being so dramatic.” William chastises once he’s standing next to him. “We should be lucky we even found this place at all.”

“Seriously?!” Ronald stares up at William, his face a mixture of utter bewilderment and disbelief. “This place is dead!”

“There may still be a chance. At the very least, we might find somewhere to take refuge until someone can assist us.” William places a hand over his phone, which weighs heavily in his pocket. They’ve finally reached Haven, so there must be proper reception here. William pulls out his phone and looks at the contact list, wondering who would be the best to call. He closes his eyes, tilting his head upward as if sending out a small prayer, before tapping on Eric’s contact.

When the call goes unanswered, just as it had before, he’s on the verge of throwing his phone. There’s only one other option he can think of, one he’s sure is always in the realm. Taking a deep breath, he taps the contact and closes his eyes, holding the phone to his ear. Moments later, someone picks up–his father. “William. I must admit, I did not expect a call from you.”

Ronald watches as relief floods William’s face, his own hopes rising. “Thank Styx I’ve gotten through to you,” he sighs in utter relief. “You see, a subordinate and I have been–”

“William? Hello?”

William freezes. “Father? Can you hear me?”

“I do not know who you are, but if you’ve stolen my son’s phone for one of your petty pranks, be aware of the severe consequences you’ll face if you call again.”

The call ends abruptly, the silence ringing in William’s ears. Slowly, he pulls his phone away, staring at the device before hanging up. “He hung up.”

Ronald slowly gets back to his feet, just as baffled by the phone in William’s hand as the older reaper is. “He did?”

“Yes. It was as if he couldn’t hear me.” William mutters, pocketing his phone and deciding to set that problem aside for now. “The very fact he picked up at all still means there’s a chance we’ll be able to contact someone in the future.”

Ronald nods, though he’s still stunned by hearing William refer to someone as ‘father’. It feels unnatural. Maybe because William had always been his boss, and to think of him having any form of family is strange. Of course, William had to have parents–he didn’t just appear out of thin air–but the thought is still hard for Ronald to wrap his head around. “Your mum wrote you a letter, by the way.”

William’s attention snaps to Ronald instantly, and the younger reaper feels himself shrink under the intense gaze. “And how, pray tell, do you know that?” William asks, his tone sharp.

Ronald tries to act casual, his voice feigning nonchalance, “erm, well, you see, Eric invited me to go with him to your place while he checked on it. He told me to get your mail, and it was just the first envelope on the pile.” He semi-lies, conveniently leaving out the fact that it was at the bottom and he’d flipped through all of William’s mail. That’s something the older reaper doesn’t need to know.

William narrows his eyes, a faint suspicion crossing his features. “You were in my home?”

“Y-Yes…?” Ronald responds hesitantly.

William raises his hand, and Ronald flinches instinctively but all William does is rapidly adjust his glasses, his attention now directed away from Ronald. The older reaper feels like he should be irritated, or even offended, that Eric invited someone else into his home, but at the same time, it’s Ronald. Ronald never showed any ill will toward him, and William never pegged him as the type to snoop or steal, so there’s no real harm done despite the fact that Ronald had seen his private mail. “It was sealed, I take it?”

“Yeah,” Ronald replies, his voice quiet.

“I see.” William rubs his fingers into his temple, looking like he’s trying to process something. “I see she’s as persistent as my father is.”

Ronald hesitates before asking, “Do you mind if I ask what it would’ve been about?”

William considers the question for a moment, debating whether he’s willing to share this part of his life with Ronald, but figures there’s no harm in it. Unlike Grell, Ronald won’t run off to the rest of the dispatch with it, turning it into ‘good gossip’. “She worries about my lack of a partner and child. My parents are rather traditional. They put a great deal of emphasis on family names, and both of them want to see ours carried on. She’s tried very hard to find me a wife, and while I… appreciate her efforts, I’d only found one person I was willing to settle down with but I’m sure you know how that panned out.”

“Alan?” Ronald asks, piecing it together.

“Alan.” William confirms. “Ever since, she’s worried I won’t find someone to take the next step with. She continues to try to find me a life partner. My father used to want a grandchild to carry our blood, but both of them have said that, as long as the family name carries on, they don’t care if it’s by blood or not.”

Ronald nods thoughtfully, remembering a conversation he’d had with Grell. “Grell said something pretty similar, actually.”

William arches an eyebrow. “Had she? How on earth does she know any of that?”

Ronald shrugs, offering a sly grin. “Intuition?”

William rolls his eyes. “Honestly.”

Ronald chuckles, feeling a strange sense of warmth in the conversation. William may have a tough exterior, but there’s a human side to him that Ronald’s starting to understand. William’s gaze turns back to the main street, and Ronald’s reminded of something else Grell said about William not having a child of his own blood. “I got one last question/” Ronald says, the thought swirling in his mind.

William turns to look at him, an almost exasperated look on his face. “Fine.”

“Would you want a child of your own blood? Like, if you found the right person, would you want to have a child with them?” Ronald asks, not entirely sure where the question is coming from but feeling the need to ask it anyway.

William’s expression shifts, becoming unreadable for a moment. The weight of it seems to settle between them, and he stares off into the distance, lost in thought. “That’s an interesting question.” he says, his tone quiet. “I suppose, if I had the chance, there’s so much more to consider than just wanting a child. What kind of world would I be bringing them into? What kind of future is there for a child with someone like me as their father? I’d have to be sure they would be safe, that they would have the chance to be more than just a name in a long lineage.” He trails off, his gaze distant as if he’s thinking about all the things he’s never been able to articulate.

Ronald watches him, taking in the rare vulnerability that slips through. “I see.” he says softly, not sure what else to say.

The moment stretches on, but neither of them speaks. Finally, William sighs and shakes his head. “You’ve got a lot of questions, don’t you, Knox?”

“I suppose so.” Ronald says, grinning slightly, relieved to see William’s old stoic composure returning. “Just trying to understand the man behind the title.”

He then directs a stern glare towards Ronald. “And none of this leaves your mouth, understood?”

Ronald immediately salutes. “Yes, sir. This stays between us.”

“Good.” William tugs at the lapels of his blazer, recentering himself, before taking a glance at the surrounding buildings. “Now, our next step should be finding somewhere to rest.”

“Sounds good.”

Despite his aching feet, Ronald continues to follow William, who leads the way through the empty town. The signs they pass are faded, some doors left wide open, and a few embers die out from what would have been a raging bin fire. “An act of vandalism, perhaps,” William comments. “That may mean we’re not entirely alone here.”

“So this place isn’t completely dead. Great.” Ronald says, shoving his hands into his pockets. “If they come back, maybe we can talk to them.”

“Perhaps.”

They fall into silence after that, each of them focusing on what little energy they have left for walking. Ronald’s shoulders sag as he notices the complete lack of colour in the town; the brightest thing around is his own hair. That chill returns–the one that feels like it’s consuming him from the inside out. He’s set even more on edge when the wind blows something over in an alley, causing a loud clang. He whips around, instinctively reaching for his scythe, except he can’t summon it. He stares, wide-eyed, at his open hand. It’s not just the fact that he couldn’t summon his scythe; it’s that he can’t feel any connection to the realm at all. “Sir?”

“What?”

He isn’t sure how to express it until it spills out. “I can’t feel a connection to the realm.”

William slowly turns around, his face a picture of confusion as he processes Ronald’s words. “Pardon me?”

“I can’t feel a connection to the realm.” Ronald repeats, showing William his hand as if that proves anything. “I can’t summon my scythe.”

William places a hand to his forehead, closing his eyes. “Knox, you’re being ridiculous.”

“I’m not! I swear, sir.”

William shoots him an irritated glance before holding out his own hand. “Watch.” But nothing happens. Ronald watches William’s hand, and William watches it too, as no scythe materialises in his grip. “What…?”

Ronald might not admit it to William, but the look of surprise on his face and in his voice is strangely satisfying. “See? I told you.”

“Now is not the time to be smug, Knox. This means our situation is worse than I thought.” William taps his chin, trying to think of any reason why their connection would be gone, but he comes up empty. He’s never felt or heard of anything like this before. “Damn it all.” he mutters, clearly frustrated. He doesn’t like being without answers, especially when it comes to something so bizarre. “Let’s just find somewhere to rest until morning.”

“Yeah, like we can actually tell what time it is.” Ronald replies, glancing up at the fog-covered sky. Like the night before, there’s no clear indication of the sun or even a hint of whether it’s out at all. It’s just a continuous, shifting mass of grey clouds.

Not long after they begin walking again, William takes Ronald’s arm, drawing his attention to a building they’ve stopped in front of. “A hotel.” says the older reaper. “If we can’t find help, at least we can stay here.”

Ronald scratches the back of his head, admiring how old the building looks. Like every other place in town, a few windows are boarded up, but there’s something about it that almost feels familiar. “Might as well give it a shot.” Ronald finally says. 

The main door creaks as William pushes it open, revealing a rundown interior. The lobby is thick with dust and cobwebs; a rug, faded and torn, covers much of the tile floor. The furniture is old, with tattered cushions, while some chairs are lopsided from broken legs. The dark green wallpaper peels from the walls, and the floor tiles are cracked in several places. The front desk is buried beneath yellowed papers, and the grand chandelier that would have once been the focal point of the lobby is missing many of its crystals; those few that remain on the floor have lost their shine. “This place would’ve been really nice in its heyday.” Ronald comments, picking up one of the fallen crystals.

“It would have been, yes.” William agrees, approaching the front desk. Out of habit, he rings the rusted bell, but no sound comes from it. He examines the desk, picking up one of the yellowed papers, but the ink has faded so much that there’s barely anything to read. What he can discern is that they’re all torn from the guestbook that lies discarded to the side, completely empty of pages. Seeing there would be no repercussions for taking a closer look, he places his palm on the surface of the counter and attempts to leap over it. Pain shoots straight up his spine, and he hisses between clenched teeth, stumbling slightly and clutching at the wall behind the desk for support.

“Sir!” Ronald’s voice fills with concern as he leans over the counter. “Are you okay?!”

William breathes deeply for a full minute before he finds the strength to stand straight again. “Yes. I’ll be fine. I simply overestimated myself.” The injury hadn’t hurt this much since he first received it. He had been told the first week would be the worst, and while it might not fully heal, the pain would subside substantially over the weeks, months, and years. This flare-up, however, might be connected to the same force draining them of energy. “I’ll be fine.” he reiterates.

Ronald hesitates, eyeing him with concern, before he relaxes his stance. “What are you doing back there anyway?”

“Since there’s no one here, I thought I might be able to find a spare key for a room.” William replies, carefully crouching down to sift through the clutter behind the desk.

“Well, good luck with that. I’ll be checking out the rest of this place.” Ronald says, stepping away.

William raises his hand dismissively, the only response he offers. Instead, he focuses on shifting aside old papers, briefly glancing at a few before setting them aside. It’s a repetitive process until his fingers brush against one of the few decently intact items. It’s a photo of a group of people standing outside the hotel when the town was still alive and bustling. A couple stands in the centre, both of them holding onto a plaque, but their faces and the plaque itself are conveniently scratched out. “Odd,” he mutters to himself. He decides to pocket the photo, his curiosity piqued by the strange alteration.

As William continues his search, Ronald spends his time wandering the lobby. There’s nothing particularly remarkable about it; it’s just a rundown, old hotel that hasn’t seen a living soul in years. The only thing that catches his attention is a lineup of portraits near the stairwell. They all feature young boys, around the same age, each wearing the same vacant, soulless expression. There are no nameplates to give these children any identity, and it’s clear there’s one missing, as evidenced by the oddly clean, square space next to the last picture on the right. It unsettles him more than anything else today. It’s their eyes, almost as though there’s a plea hidden behind the bleakness of their appearance.

Tearing his gaze away from the portraits, he turns his attention to the lift. The doors are left slightly ajar, and peering through the slit, he sees the lift is stuck a few stories up. The empty void beneath it sends another shiver down his spine, and he steps away from the metal doors. “Lift’s busted.” Ronald mentions, walking back to the desk. “Did you find anything?”

“Not yet,” William answers, still sifting through the clutter. Then, finally, he emerges victorious. “Aha.” He stands up, holding a key in his fingers. “Some good fortune, finally.”

Ronald perks up at that. “Hell yeah! What’s the number?”

“Three fifteen.”

Then his enthusiasm deflates. “We’ve gotta climb stairs?”

“Enough complaining. This is a stroke of luck. There was a greater chance of not finding a key at all.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

William doesn’t allow Ronald any more time to bemoan the idea of climbing a few flights of stairs. He continues on, and Ronald follows, dragging his feet but he notices William hesitate when he spots the portraits on the wall. He doesn’t say anything, but Ronald can guess that he feels the same trepidation he himself felt when first looking at them.

Compared to what Ronald was expecting, finding the room isn’t a long journey despite the groaning of his knees each step upwards they take. There’s a blockage on the stairs made of furniture hastily thrown together as if someone was trying to keep someone out from the upper floors, but thankfully, that was floor four and up. Floor three, where their room was, is still completely accessible. William holds back a sigh of relief as he unlocks the door to room three fifteen.

As expected, the room is just as run-down as the rest of the hotel. However, it’s not as filthy, as though someone’s recently been in to clean it. The only real downside is the double bed. Again. “Beggars can’t be choosers, I guess.” Ronald mutters, staring at the bed.

“No, we cannot.” William agrees. He walks over to it, brushing the blanket aside before sitting on it and then shifting to lie down. Almost immediately, the pain in his back eases, and he groans in relief. “Finally.” he whispers, closing his eyes.

Ronald drops beside him, pulling off his shoes and tossing them to the floor. “You can say that again.”

“Finally.”

Ronald snorts at that, rubbing the sole of his foot. “How’s your back?”

“Sore.” William admits, refusing to move even an inch from where he’s lying. “It hasn’t hurt like this in a very long time.”

“Should you take more of those painkillers?”

“I’m fine for the moment. As long as I don’t move for the rest of the night, I’ll be fine.” Ronald can’t tell if William’s joking or not.

He takes a deep breath, then forces himself off the bed and approaches the window. The curtains are a drab, dull red, and the fabric is rough between his fingers, but he pulls them aside to observe the town from a higher vantage point. While the fog has lifted somewhat, it still encapsulates the town, preventing Ronald from seeing further than across the street. “So, still no idea why the name of the town sounds familiar?”

“No.” William replies. “Nothing about this place is familiar to me. I would’ve thought that perhaps seeing the town would jog a memory, but it has not.”

“Strange.” Ronald states, closing the curtain again. “Anyway, what do you think the odds are that the shower works?”

“Nil.”

Ronald puts his hands on his hips, staring at the closed bathroom door before daring to stride over and open it. The bathroom matches the bedroom in terms of cleanliness, which is surprisingly decent, although the mirror sports fingerprints, and the sink has rust near the faucet and taps. The tiles are speckled with dirt, and there are a few cracks around the toilet and shower. Otherwise, it’s not as horrible as he’d expected. What he’s really hoping for is running water. “Please work, please work, please work,” he chants under his breath, reaching into the shower to twist the dial. Much to his surprise, a rush of pounding water comes gushing out of the showerhead; the pipes creak and groan, and the water’s barely warm, but it’s still working. “Sir! The shower works!” he calls out triumphantly.

“I can hear.”

Ronald, eager to hop in, is already midway through taking off his shirt when he recalls something: he and William need to share a bed again. “Hey, uh, you okay with me sleeping naked still?” he asks the older reaper as he steps out of the bathroom.

“You have no other clothes.” William replies, his position unchanged. “Unless you have no qualms sleeping in your undergarments.”

That idea has Ronald blushing. Sleeping naked with William was strange, but he could handle that but sleeping with him in just his underwear? That shouldn’t feel even more uncomfortable. “Uh, yeah. I guess...I guess I could do that.”

William cracks one eye open, peering at him with a tired, confused expression. “Why does that sound like it bothers you more than sleeping in the buff?”

“I guess…” Ronald rubs the back of his head, his eyes directed to the floor. “I guess it’s because it just feels more personal? You know, when you’re just having a shag, you take everything off, but when you're sleeping with someone you’re, y’know, proper intimate with, you sleep in your briefs.”

William fully opens both eyes now, his expression still one of bemused confusion. “Really? You’re worried it’ll feel, how to put it, like you’re courting me?”

“Yeah…”

William frowns, doing his best to pull himself into a sitting position, and once he does, he quickly reclines against the pillows. “Knox, that’s a silly thing to say. If hearing it from my own mouth will calm any worries you have, sleeping with me in your undergarments does not mean you and I are in a relationship. Even if your sleeping attire weren’t part of the equation, there’s not a chance anything would ever happen between us. You have a strong preference for our female staff, and I care very little, if at all, about having another romantic partnership. Your state of dress while sleeping with someone, when there are no other options available, does not indicate your relationship status.”

There’s not a chance anything would happen between us. William’s right. He’s more than right, so why does that weight so heavy in the pit of Ronald’s stomach? “Okay, yeah. I’m being silly.” Ronald flashes a smile, trying to shake off that feeling. “Sorry, sir. I’m gonna try out that shower now.”

As Ronald disappears back into the washroom, William closes his eyes again. What he said was true. There couldn’t be, and would not be, anything between him and Ronald. These feelings he’s harboured for Ronald would always go unrequited, and he’s accepted that. Ronald would never love him, regardless of whether or not he had an interest in men. Ronald deserved someone who enjoyed life, who knew how to have fun, someone who could be adventurous with him. Not someone distant, stern, and strict. He didn’t deserve Alan, and he certainly didn’t deserve Ronald.

He shakes his head, turning his attention to the lamp on the nightstand. Brushing off the dust from the lampshade, he takes a gamble and pulls on the string. To his surprise, it works. While it only illuminates his side of the bed, it’s still a working light, which begs the question: what works and what doesn’t in this place? Well, he wouldn’t complain. Now, all he had to do was–wait. His suitcase was locked inside his car. “Damn it.” Well, now he had the same problem as Ronald. The idea of sleeping naked with anyone was mortifying, so his only option would be briefs as well.

“Yeah, the shower felt nice.” Ronald announces, exiting the washroom in nothing but his bright orange boxers. “There was a teeny bit of shampoo and soap too, so I was finally able to wash away that icky feeling of dirt and sweat.” He flashes William another smile. “I left some for you too, if you wanted a shower.”

“Thank you, but I’ll have one in the morning. I think it’s best for me to try and keep off my feet for the rest of the night.”

“Ooo, good idea. Hey! The light works.” Ronald comments, finally noticing the small area of the room that’s lit up.

“Somehow.” William replies, slowly getting off the bed. He removes his phone and painkillers from his pocket, setting them on the nightstand before shrugging off his blazer and working on the buttons of his shirt. “As I recalled, Knox, I no longer have my suitcase with me, so I hope you won’t mind that I lay with you in the same state of undress as you are.”

Ronald’s heart picks up speed. “Huh? You mean, just your briefs?”

“Yes.”

Ronald swallows. That feels too intimate, but at the same time, William didn’t have a choice either. “No, yeah. That’s okay.” William hears Ronald’s unsure tone but says nothing about it. Things were going to be awkward already, so he didn’t want to make it more so.

As silence descends, with Ronald removing the decorative pillows from the bed and William folding his blazer upon the dresser, a sound echoes from outside the room. Creak. The both of them freeze, their attention only on the door. Creak. William spares Ronald a look before quietly approaching the door and pressing his ear to the wood. There’s someone in the hallway, the floorboards groaning and creaking under each step they take. As it grows closer, the more William feels his body freeze up, before he chooses to face the person that’s wandering the halls. He opens the door and steps out, looking down both directions, only to find there’s not a single soul in sight. “Hello? I request if there is someone here, please show yourself. My companion and I require assistance, and I will gladly pay you for your help.” The pattern continues as he receives no answer. Unnerved, he re-enters the room, closing the door and locking it. “It must have been the old building settling.”

“Yeah. Yeah, that’s it.” Ronald quickly agrees. William stares at the door for a long moment before slowly continuing to undress. Ronald himself watches the door the entire time. It’s not until William leaves the corner of his vision that he searches out the older man, and when he finds him, his eyes are locked on the injury that’s causing William so much grief. There are other things his mind quickly stores away for later, such as his long neck, thin waist, and the way his briefs hug his rear, but it’s the long scar directly down his spine that keeps his full attention. It reaches from the nape of his neck all the way down past the top hem of his briefs. It’s healed as much as it could, but part of it still looks fresh. “No wonder your back hurts like it does.”

Ronald bites his lip and lies down, pretending he never said anything at all. "It’s a nasty wound, yes. One I’m told I’m lucky to recover from." William explains as he returns to the bed. "It’s the reason I refrain from being in the field unless I need to be." He removes his glasses and places them next to his phone before flicking off the light. "And that’s all I’ll say."

"More than I was expecting, to be honest." There's a tension that lingers in the silence that settles between them, one Ronald isn’t sure if it's because of his statement or because of the mysterious footsteps outside their room. "You think someone’s gonna come looking for us?"

"I should hope so. Your presence would be missed."

"Like no one would notice the boss is gone."

"You misheard me, Knox."

Ronald frowns. "How?" William doesn’t answer. "Okay..." He rolls over, facing the wall. He hears William sigh and shift next to him. He tries to find a sense of calm to help him sleep, to clear his mind, but there are just too many thoughts racing around, and the quiet doesn’t settle him. Then, he hears it–the whispers. He squeezes his eyes shut, trying to ignore the disembodied whispering, yet the more he tries to block it out, the louder it seems to get. Despite that, he can’t make out a single word. It’s just a jumbled muttering that doesn’t form any coherent sentence. "Sir? You still awake?" he finally asks.

"Unfortunately."

"You hear it too?"

"I do."

Ronald sits up, scrubbing his face with his hands. "Who do you think the voice belongs to?"

"I haven’t the foggiest...perhaps a poor choice of words."

Ronald chuckles, dropping his hands into his lap. "Long shot, but do you have any music on your phone? Something to play so it’s not so quiet?"

"Even if I did, you wouldn’t enjoy my music taste."

"You mean rock or whatever you want to call it?"

"How did you know that?"

Ronald curses himself for that slip-up. "Ah, well, when I went to your place with Eric, I saw your stack of CDs sitting out, so I played one."

William rolls onto his back to look at Ronald. "You touched my things?"

"Just one CD!"

William slaps a hand over his eyes. "Honestly. Were you never told not to touch what doesn’t belong to you?"

There’s a comment Ronald wants to make about how no one was ever stopped from touching what belonged to him, but he doesn’t. "It was just one CD. Besides, I liked it. Couldn’t understand a word, but the guy had great vocals, and it had a good beat."

William removes his hand from his eyes, looking curiously at him. "You liked the song?"

"Yeah! It was nice to switch things up a bit after hearing a lot of the same stuff. Besides, a good beat is a good beat."

William studies him for a moment before closing his eyes and relaxing into the mattress. "You’ll need to grab my phone then. The passcode is one, six, ten."

"You trust me with that information?"

"Truthfully, yes. Besides, I have nothing incriminating on my phone that would warrant caution. So long as you don’t touch anything like my contacts, emails, or that bloody texting–what do you call it? App–then I don’t have an issue with you on my mobile."

Being trusted like that by William is a bit surprising, if Ronald’s honest, especially with how closely William guards his secrets. So, he excuses himself as he reaches over William to grab the phone, inputs the passcode, and is greeted by the phone’s home screen. As expected of William, the background image is a lovely sunset over a river, the reflection creating stunning shades of red, pink, and orange in the water. The urge to snoop is strong, but Ronald refrains, instead tapping on the music app. It opens, paused on whatever song William had been listening to the last time; 承認欲求. “What’s this song?” Ronald asks, showing William the phone when he opens his eyes.

“Shounin Yokkyuu.” William replies, his voice betraying how tired he really is. “Or Need for Approval if you want the translation.”

“Huh.” Ronald starts flicking through the songs, finding most of them in Japanese characters. He taps a few, listening to the first few seconds before switching to the next, trying to find a slow song that would make good background noise. Eventually, he finds an instrumental piece that works perfectly for soothing them to sleep. Putting the song on loop, he sets the phone on his nightstand beside his glasses and lays back down. With the gentle piano and violin filling his ears, it’s much easier to finally drift off to sleep, the whispers fading into the background, no longer loud enough to disturb them.

********************

“It’s too early for me to be up on my day off.” Eric whines, standing at the stove while he makes pancakes for himself and Alan. “It’s too early for work on my day off.”

Alan runs his hand over Eric’s shoulders, resting his head against one. “What happened to ‘I can handle one more day, Al’?”

“That was before I had to wake up early.” Eric flips the batter, pleased by its golden colour. “I really hope it doesn’t take Spears long to get back here.”

Alan kisses his cheek before taking a seat at the small square dining table. “I’m sure he’ll be quick. William’s nothing if not punctual.”

“Aye, suppose that’s true. Still can’t believe the storm we got last night. Yer right about it it was the worst one we’re seen in ages.” And of course, it had to happen the night William was meant to be home. Sometimes, Eric can’t believe his luck. Then again, he’s not William, who was driving when the storm hit. He’s glad the lad found somewhere to stay, but he’s only slightly concerned he hasn’t heard from the other reaper yet. Surely William would want to update Eric on the situation or at least give a rough estimate of when to expect him back.

“Wasn’t it? Getting back to sleep with that wind and thunder was harder than I expected it to be.”

“Even with yer big, strong husband holdin’ ye through it?”

Alan rolls his eyes. “Oh yes, thank you, Eric, for protecting little ol’ me from the scary storm in your big, strong arms.”

Eric chuckles, throwing a wink over his shoulder at Alan. “Not just me arms that are big.”

“You’re awful, you know that?”

“Aye! But that’s why ye love me.”

“Sometimes, I have to wonder.”

When the last pancake is done and plated, Eric’s halfway turned toward Alan when his phone vibrates in his pocket. Wondering if it’s finally William calling to update him, he answers the call while setting the plate in front of Alan. “‘Ello?”

“Eric!” comes Grell’s screech from the other end. “Have you seen Ronnie?!”

Eric pulls the phone from his ear, Alan able to hear her from where he’s sitting. “Calm down, would ya? Yer gonna blow out my eardrum with that crying.”

“Answer me, you git! Have. You. Seen. Ronnie?”

“No, why? It’s only seven, Red. I never see Ron before gettin’ to work.”

“That’s not good, Eric!”

“Why? Lass, yer really not givin’ me any answers while demandin’ yer own. What’s wrong?”

She takes a deep breath. “I texted him last night asking if he’d be willing to come stay the night with me because I was feeling rather lonely and my date didn’t go so well, so I wanted our darling Ronnie to keep me company but he never texted back. I assumed he’d gone out, but I tried texting him an hour later, and the text failed to send. I tried to call, and got his voicemail right away. I went to his bloody flat and banged on the door with no answer! At first, I thought maybe he was staying the night with someone and his phone died, but this morning–when we both know Ronnie would be home to charge his phone before work–I still couldn’t text him, and my calls still went straight to voicemail!”

Eric looks at Alan, a strange, uncomfortable feeling settling in his chest. “Did ye stop by his flat yet this morning?”

“Not yet, no. I wanted to see if he was staying the night at your place or something first.”

“Shit. No, the lad’s not here.”

“Eric!”

“Right, just calm down, Red. Maybe Ron’ll show up at work, and he’ll have an explanation for us.”

“Do you really think so?! Because I’m going to kill the little bastard when I get my hands on him for making me worry so much!”

“I’m sure the lad’s fine. Why don’t I send Alan to check his flat, aye?”

“Fine, but I’m giving him until noon before I start a manhunt.”

She hangs up, and Eric does the same, meeting Alan’s worried gaze. “Accordin’ to Grell, Ron’s missing.”

“What?!”

“You calm down too. I’m sure the lad just went out, had too much to drink, and passed out at home without realising how low his phone’s battery was.”

Alan leans back in his chair, Eric thankful his smaller partner tends to be more logical than Grell. “Yes. Yes, that has to be the case.” Alan concedes. “But you told her you wanted me to check on him?”

“Aye, here.” Eric reaches into his pocket, pulling out a key ring that holds his own house key, William’s home and office key, and Ronald’s flat key. He removes Ronald’s key and slides it over to Alan. “Ye’d be doin’ me a big favour goin’ over to check on him.”

Alan catches the key under his palm, nodding as he picks it up. “The sooner the better then.” he says, standing up. “Do me a favour and wrap these up for me so I can at least heat them up when I get home. I’m not letting your cooking go to waste.”

Eric chuckles. “Will do, hen.”

Alan leaves after stealing a quick kiss from his husband. He’s grateful for the exercise as he walks to Ronald’s flat, which isn’t too far from his and Eric’s home. Ronald lives on the second floor of a block of flats, one of the few places Ronald could afford on his pay. Alan’s been there a few times with Eric, but he’s never had to visit on his own. “Ronald? Are you in?” Alan calls after knocking on the door. “Grell assumes you’ve gone missing.” When no one answers, he knocks again. “If you don’t answer, I’m coming in.” Still no reply, so Alan does as he threatened, unlocking the door and stepping inside.

The place is just as he remembers it from the few times he’s been there before. There’s clutter on many of the surfaces, and it’s a bit more cramped compared to his and Eric’s place, but it’s not completely awful. Some tasteful décor adorns the walls, along with plenty of personal effects, such as pictures of Ronald with his friends. Most of them feature either Eric or Grell–or both–but there’s one that catches Alan’s attention. It’s sitting directly in the centre of a messy bookcase. It looks to be from Ronald’s graduation day, with a man standing next to him, holding out a box, offering Ronald his favourite watch as a gift. “Alan!”

Alan jumps a foot in the air at Grell’s sudden voice. He spins around, jabbing his finger at her. “Don’t do that! You gave me a bloody fright!”

She smiles too innocently, fluttering her eyelashes. “Did I? I’m so sorry.”

Alan rolls his eyes. “What are you doing here? Eric told you he sent me to check on Ronald.”

“I know, but I had to see for myself! It really isn’t like him to be so irresponsible.”

“Fine. I suppose you have a point.” Alan glances around the flat. “I haven’t checked his bedroom yet.”

Grell takes the lead, striding toward Ronald’s bedroom, then throwing open the door with a force that makes it slam against the wall. She hopes to wake a sleeping young reaper, but the bed is empty. In fact, it’s even made, which is even stranger. “Ronald?!”

Alan enters the room and observes. Ronald’s watch and phone are both missing, items the younger reaper is never without. “This is strange.”

“More than strange! Where the hell is he?!”

Alan rubs his hands over his arms, feeling the cold in the room before pulling out his phone. “While I don’t want to rush William, maybe there’s a way he can get home quicker so Eric can help us look.” Alan suggests, pulling up William’s contact. Grell crosses her arms, tapping her foot impatiently as she waits but as Alan calls his boss, the call goes directly to voicemail, much like it had with Ronald. “I...I can’t.”

“Excuse me?”

“I can’t call William. It just–”

“Goes to voicemail?”

“Yes.”

Grell frowns, nibbling on the tip of her thumbnail. “First Ronnie, and now Will? I hate to say it, but not being readily available when someone needs him is not very Will at all.”

“No, it isn’t.” Alan begins to feel a weight settle in his chest. The last time he couldn’t get a hold of William, it had been one of the worst days of his life. Both of them had better be okay.

Chapter Text

Part of him expects to wake up in his own bed, convinced the previous days had been nothing more than an alcohol-induced dream. He stretches out his arms, yawning loudly, fully believing that when he opens his eyes, he’ll be in his own bed, nursing a hangover. For a brief moment, he truly believes it. There’s no music, no whispers, and he’s alone in the bed. So long as he keeps his eyes closed, he can pretend he's at home. Wait. Alone? If he was alone, where was William? Had the older reaper left him completely alone, with no way to fend for himself? Had he just left Ronald behind, while he made his own way back? The fear quickly forces him to open his eyes, and in an instant, the illusion is shattered. He’s still in the same hotel room he’d fallen asleep in, and thankfully, William is still with him. The older reaper is dressed and pacing back and forth past the covered window, holding his phone up, trying different areas of the room, trying to find a signal, before lowering his hands in frustration. “Still no luck?” Ronald asks, rubbing his eyes.

William pauses, his gaze shifting toward the bed. “I’m afraid not. I’ve tried everything I can think of, but nothing works. None of my calls are going through anymore–not even to my father.” He pockets his phone with a scowl on his face, his shoulders tense. “How did you sleep?”

“Good, I guess. The music helped.” Ronald replies, reaching for his glasses and sliding them on. “The quiet was just too quiet.”

“Indeed.” William nods in agreement.

“And you?” Ronald asks, sitting up.

“Well enough.” William answers. “The very idea that we are no longer connected to our realm still perturbs me, but I suppose I cannot do anything about it right now.”

Ronald glances down at his hand, trying to summon his backup scythe, but he quickly realises that the connection truly is severed. “What does that mean for us?”

“It means we’re stuck.” William says bluntly, folding his arms. “For the time being, we are stuck in this desolate town, with no way of contacting anyone or finding our way home.”

Ronald groans, flopping back onto the bed. “Great. Just great. You know what? Never drinking again.”

“Really?” William raises an eyebrow, turning to look at him.

“If I didn’t go to that party in the middle of nowhere, I wouldn’t be stuck in an empty town with my boss and no way home.”

William folds his arms over his chest, his expression neutral. “I’m sure being stuck in an empty town is worse than being stuck with me.”

Ronald grits his teeth, realising how his words must have sounded to the older reaper. “It’s not bad being stuck with you. It’s just...different.” He sits up again, trying to explain. “You’re the boss. No one, besides Alan knows anything about you. You’re not the most friendly of faces, and it’s hard to tell what’s going to fly and what’s going to get me a smack upside the head.”

William nods thoughtfully. “Understandable. I suppose I can be rather brash at times.”

“Yeah, you are. And then you give out compliments, and that really throws me for a loop.” Ronald admits, glancing down at his hands.

William turns his back slightly, gently pulling back a bit of the curtain. The same view Ronald had earlier greets him: empty streets, shrouded in thick fog. “You’ve done well as of late?”

Ronald swallows, those words still making butterflies in his stomach. “Yeah. That...” He rubs the back of his neck, trying to keep his composure. “I’ve got to ask, why did you say that to me?”

“Because you were doing well.” William replies, his gaze focused out the window. “I know I don’t give out compliments lightly, but I was impressed by your work ethic recently. Your reports were handed in on time, your collections went smoothly. I suppose I was so strung up by the idea of leaving my position for three months that it felt as if you were making things easier on me. I know that wasn’t your intention as you were just doing your job, but when everyone else seemed to be delivering haphazard work, you stood out as someone doing an exceptional job.”

Ronald plucks at the blanket, unsure of how to respond to that. “Even if I had some errors?”

"Those are minor, and I know they're hard for you to catch," William says and Ronald nods, even though William has his back turned. Hearing William’s reasoning for the praise feels strange, and Ronald can’t help but a warm, fuzzy feeling of appreciation seep into him. "Well...thanks, sir. It’s nice to hear it like that."

"I should be thanking you." William replies, turning back around. "For making things slightly easier on me."

"I can’t say I know what it’s like to be in your position, but I can’t imagine it’s ever easy. So, you don’t need to thank me either." Ronald forces out a laugh, trying to keep his usual carefree demeanour. "I mean, it makes things easier for me! I’m a no-overtime kind of guy, after all." He shoots William finger guns with a grin.

William’s lips briefly twitch, a ghost of a smile appearing before they straighten again. "I suppose, with Slingby in charge, you had it a bit easier, hmm?"

Ronald’s face falls, his eyes darting off to the side. He wonders whether to go along with what William assumes or tell him the truth about how hard he worked to ease Eric’s workload. "Well, no." he corrects him. "I actually worked really hard to help Eric."

The surprise in William’s eyes is exactly what Ronald expects. "Did you?"

"Yeah. Eric was pretty overwhelmed. His workload, plus yours, plus Alan’s...it was a lot. So, I bit the bullet and offered to help however I could. He handed me Alan’s workload, and I put in a lot of overtime just to help him out."

"That’s a fair bit of extra work for you then."

"It was worth it to help Eric."

"Then you’ll have to tell me the exact amount of overtime worked when we get back. I’ll make sure you're compensated for the extra hours."

Ronald blinks. "Y-You don’t have to do that, sir. I was just–"

William raises his palm to silence him. "No. You will be compensated, Knox. If I don’t expect Slingby to do his extra work for free, then I certainly don’t expect you to, regardless of whether you did it simply to help."

Ronald swallows, feeling a surge of gratitude. He honestly believed that Alan allowing Eric and him to have a "guys' night out" was the best reward he’d get for his hard work. "Thank you, sir, really."

"Thanks isn’t necessary," William responds with a wave of his hand then claps his hands together. "Now, back on topic. Do you want to stay here while I explore a bit of the town, or would you like to join me?"

Just as Ronald opens his mouth to suggest staying behind and scouting out the hotel, his stomach lets out a loud, rumbling growl. He groans, hiding his face in his hands. "Please tell me you didn’t hear that."

"Your stomach?" William raises an eyebrow.

"Yeah...that."

William adjusts his glasses, trying to recall the last time he himself had eaten. "I take it the sandwich I bought for you was the last thing you’ve eaten?"

"Yeah..." Ronald’s voice trails off.

"Then I see why you’re hungry."

"Aren’t you?"

"Not entirely." William taps his finger thoughtfully against his arm, wondering if there might be anything edible in a place like this. "Finding something to eat could be challenging."

"Probably, but it’s not like I need to eat, right? Being a reaper and all."

"Normally I’d agree with you, but as you pointed out yesterday, there’s something strange about this place. The rules and life of a reaper don’t seem to apply here."

Ronald sighs, trying not to think about the surprisingly delicious petrol sandwich or the meal Eric cooked when he invited him to dinner with Alan. The chicken had practically melted in his mouth, the sauce was perfectly seasoned, and the mashed potatoes were as light as air. His stomach growls again, reminding him of the hunger gnawing at him. "There’s got to be something non-perishable around here, right?"

William glances at Ronald’s stomach when it growls once more. "Perhaps. There should be a kitchen here, and if not, there must be a shop somewhere." He makes a decision, walking with purpose towards the door. "Once you’re up and dressed, meet me in the lobby. We’ll figure out where to go from there." He leaves, closing the door behind him.

Once in the lobby, William surveys the same set of portraits that Ronald had noticed yesterday. The blank, expressionless faces unnerve him more than anything else has. He’s seen this look before–humans whose spirits have been utterly broken, who can do nothing but accept their fate as it’s the same vacant expression he’d seen in the eyes of the poor children the Baron Kelvin had butchered. Why on earth would these be hung up in the lobby of a hotel?

Noticing there’s no nameplate, he removes one of the pictures from the wall. The wallpaper has faded, and the frame is coated in a thick layer of dust, suggesting the portraits have hung here for quite some time. If he had to guess, he’d say they’ve been hanging here even when the hotel was still bustling with guests. Flipping the frame over, he spots a few words scrawled on the back.

Name: Benjamin Riley

Age: 10

C.O.D: Drowning

William rereads the last part. Cause of death? He flips the frame again, his gaze drawn to the child’s empty eyes, before he hangs it back on the wall. With a deep breath, he takes down the second portrait, flipping it over to reveal the same details:

Name: Arthur Tyler  

Age: 10 

C.O.D: Drowning

He repeats the process with the rest of the portraits, finding they’re all the same. They are all young boys with the same cause of death, and there’s one portrait missing. He steps back, examining the portraits once more, wondering where the last one could be and why that particular portrait is gone, while these other macabre images remain on display. Why leave these haunting photos up? Were they taken post-mortem? As far as he knows, that trend ended in the 1940s but, upon closer inspection, he realises that these children were still alive when these photos were taken, which only raises more questions. Why display them in the lobby of a hotel? “Okay, dressed and ready for some breakfast. Or, y’know, anything.” William turns to greet Ronald, who strides up to stand next to him. Ronald has his hands casually in his pockets, but his eyes lock onto the portraits. William watches as a slight shiver runs down Ronald’s spine. “Strange, right?”  

“Indeed. Especially with a cause of death written on the back of them.”  

Ronald balks. “There is?”  

“There is.”  

“But…why?”  

William shakes his head. “I don’t know.”

Ronald swallows hard, turning away from the eerie, unblinking eyes of the portraits. “So these kids looked like that before they died, and someone decided to hang them up?”  

“For whatever reason, yes.”  

“What the hell?”  

“I doubt we’d like the answer.” William says, placing a hand on Ronald’s shoulder and guiding them both toward the hotel’s front doors. “Let’s step out and see if there’s a shop nearby where we can get some food.”

“Honestly, I’ll take anything to get away from those faces.” The memories of the Kelvin mansion surface in Ronald’s mind, the same disturbing thoughts that had haunted William. It’s a collection of horrors they’d both prefer to forget. 

The air is colder than yesterday, but at least there’s no wind. Still, Ronald doesn’t feel safe here. The only sounds he hears are the echoing footsteps across the cracked asphalt, each step reverberating far and wide. A part of him is urging him to return to the hotel, where there’s a remote sense of safety but with William at his side, Ronald doesn't want to appear like a nervous rookie next to his more experienced superior. So, he grits his teeth and follows William down the street.

His eyes flick from building to building, most of them nondescript, vacant shells, until one shop catches his attention. The sign is worn away, but he can still make out the shapes of mannequins and clothes through the glass. Without a second thought, he rushes up to the window, pressing his hands against the cool glass as he peers inside. “Look at this, sir!”  

“What is it?” William asks, stepping up beside him. “Clothes?”  

“Yeah! There are some nice designs in there. Hey! They’re even having a sale. Thirty per cent off all racks at the front of the store.”  

“May I remind you, we’re not here to shop?” Despite himself, William peers through the window, briefly considering whether it might be worth it to pick up something more comfortable to sleep in than just their underwear. “Not that there’s likely anyone around to serve us.”  

Ronald smirks. “You know, you could always consider it a donation.”  

“No.”  

Ronald pouts. “Fine.”

William rolls his eyes and steps away from the window, continuing down the road. Ronald catches up quickly, and William feels the brief brush of the younger reaper’s arm against his. A fleeting urge rises to reach out, to take Ronald’s hand but he shoves the thought aside. Ronald isn’t comfortable with certain things, and the last thing William wants is to startle him, not when there’s the looming possibility of danger ahead. All he has to do is push away any pining he feels about Knox, and they’ll get through this without anything changing between them.  

After walking for a fair while, they come across a diner. From the outside, it’s styled to replicate the 80s, and even at a glance through the window, the bold colour palette of red and silver is strikingly clear.  

“This might be a stroke of luck.” William remarks, pausing by the window. “There may be something edible in the back of this place.”  

“Let’s hope so, because I’ll eat anything that even remotely resembles food at this point.” Ronald pulls open the door and gestures for William to step inside first. “After you, sir.” 

William nods his thanks and steps in, with Ronald following close behind. The interior is exactly what he expected—overly kitschy, red leather booths, chequered floors, and a neon jukebox standing lifeless in the corner. It’s certainly not to his taste, but he supposes there’s some charm to it. “Certainly not a place I would come willingly.”

“Maybe not you, but this place brings back memories for me.” Ronald muses, glancing around with a grin.  

William quirks an eyebrow. “Does it?”  

“Oh yeah! Eric and I used to frequent this popular bar back in the eighties, and let me tell you, the ladies found me very bodacious.” He winks, miming a tug at the lapels of an imaginary coat.  

William nearly laughs at the absurdity of the word alone. He presses a finger to his lips, trying to maintain composure. “I’d like to request that you never say that word again.”  

Ronald only grins wider. “No promises.”  

For a brief moment–and he does mean for a moment–William allows himself to pretend that this is something normal, something ordinary, maybe even a date with Ronald but the illusion shatters when the door to the kitchen swings open, and a woman strides over, dressed in a waitress uniform. She holds a menu in one hand, a pencil tucked behind her ear, and a notepad clipped to her apron. “Sorry ‘bout the wait!” she chirps, smiling directly at Ronald. “You new? Haven’t seen you around here before.”  

Ronald and William exchange a quick look before Ronald offers an answer. “Yeah, never even heard of this place before. See, me and–”  

“Then you’ve come to the right place for the best food in town!” she interrupts, already turning towards one of the booths and gesturing for them to follow. “Come take a seat! We’re not slammed like usual, so I can give you all my attention.” She winks.  

Ronald slides into the booth, while William takes the seat across from him, though it’s painfully clear that the waitress only has eyes for Ronald. “Excuse me, miss, but my companion and I are stranded here, for lack of a better word, and I was wondering if there was a phone I could use to call for assistance?” William asks, keeping his tone polite.  

Her gaze doesn’t waver from Ronald. “Well? What’ll you have, cutie?” she asks, placing the menu in front of him.

Ronald glances between her and William. “Uh, right.” He taps the menu. “Could we get another one?”  

“Another? Why? Don’t tell me you’ve got someone coming to meet you!”  

Ronald stiffens, staring directly at William as she says this. William himself looks down at his own hands as if checking to see whether he’s become invisible. “No. Never mind. That’s okay.” Ronald puts the menu down. “But hey, do you think I could use your phone? Mine died, and I don’t have another way to contact my friends, so–”  

“Tell you what, fill up that starvin’ stomach, and I’ll let you ‘round back,” she says, pulling her pencil from behind her ear and flipping open her notepad.  

“Oh, great! Would really appreciate that.” Ronald flips open the menu again. “Why don’t you start us off with two of your strongest coffees, please?”  

She gives him an odd look. “Two? What do you need two coffees for?”  

Ronald glances at William again, and the older reaper sits stiffly, looking both offended and baffled. “Right. Yeah. Never mind. I’ll take one coffee and then a couple of minutes to decide, then.”  

“Excellent, I’ll be back shortly.” She blows Ronald a kiss before sauntering off towards the kitchen.  

William is visibly at a loss for words. “I…she does realise you aren’t alone, doesn’t she?”  

Ronald throws up his hands. “You’d think!” He leans in slightly, lowering his voice. “And is it just me, or do you get an even creepier vibe from this place now?”  

“No, you’re not alone. I feel it as well.” William admits, his gaze flicking around the diner. “Why is she working? Where is everyone else? Why is this the only place not left to ruin?”  

“No bloody clue.” Ronald exhales, lifting the menu again. “But it does give me hope that we’ll get some actual food.” He scans the options. “So, you wanna split something, then? They’ve got a full English on here. Maybe we could share that?”  

“With black pudding?”  

“Mmm…yep!”  

“Then I suppose that’s a shareable quantity.”  

“I hope so.” Ronald closes the menu and places it down. “Wish I had the patience to make a fry-up at home. There’s just way too much that goes into it.”  

Curious, William slides the menu towards himself, skimming through to see what else they offer but the moment he opens it, he freezes. The pages are blank. No words, no pictures–nothing. He flips to the next page. Blank. Again. He flips the centre page back and forth multiple times, as if that’ll somehow make anything appear on these pages, but no. Nothing changes. “Ah, Knox,” he says carefully, his tone steady. “Might I inquire where you saw the full English?”  

“Right here.” Ronald flips back the page, pointing to…nothing. His finger lands on a completely empty section of paper. “Under breakfasts.”  

William chooses, for now, to keep what he’s seeing–or rather, what he’s not seeing–to himself. Instead, he offers a small nod, feigning understanding. “Ah, yes. I see now.”  

Ronald shoots him a strange look, but before he can say anything, the waitress returns, setting a cup of coffee in front of him. Her entire body remains angled towards Ronald, as if William doesn’t exist. “Here we are. A cup of our strongest brew.”  

“Thanks.” Ronald forces a smile, wrapping his hands around the warm ceramic mug.

“Of course, cutie. Now, did you decide what you wanted?”

“The full English, please.”  

“Excellent choice.” She jots it down with a satisfied hum. “Anything else?”  

Ronald looks at William, but the older man waves his hand dismissively, clearly not wanting to make a scene. “No thanks. That should be all.”  

“Then I’ll be sure to put your order on priority.” She winks at Ronald again before disappearing into the back, taking the menu with her.  

William crosses his arms and leans back against the booth. “Strange.”  

“Yeah, I mean, I know I’m charming, but I didn’t think I’d take attention away from you.”  

“I doubt she even sees me.”  

“A guy like you ? How could she not ?” Ronald blurts, before immediately coughing into his hand. “I mean, everyone knows who Mr. Spears is, right?”  

William raises an eyebrow but chooses not to comment on the pattern he’s starting to notice with Ronald. “Not everyone. You seem to think my name is more famous than it is.”  

“Grell made it seem like it was a pretty big deal.”  

“As usual, she’s blown it out of proportion.” He sighs, “Yes, those in dispatch know who my parents are, but they’re hardly renowned celebrities. They’re simply respected individuals who worked hard for their wealth and positions. Otherwise, to those who prefer a more ‘human’ existence, the name doesn’t hold much weight. They’re certainly not on the same level as the Board.”  

Ronald props his elbows on the table and rests his chin in his hands. “Huh. Y’know, I kinda forget there’s a life outside the office. That our realm isn’t just bureaucracy.”  

“Did you want to do something besides office work?”  

“Maybe?” He shrugs. “Never really thought about it. Mum wanted me out and gone pretty quick once I outlived my purpose, so I never got to choose. Office work offered the academy and the living quarters that came with it, so…that was pretty much my only option.”  

William frowns–a real, proper frown this time. He leans forward, reaching out to place a hand on Ronald’s arm. “Knox…what do you mean you outlived your purpose?”  

Ronald stiffens, his eyes flicking to William’s hand as if only just realising what he’s said. “Nothin’.” His voice is light, but the tension is unmistakable. “Just…pretend I didn’t say anything, okay?” He gently pushes William’s hand away. “You have your secrets, I have mine.”  

William doesn’t miss the flicker of hurt in Ronald’s expression, but the younger reaper is right. He doesn’t owe William an explanation. “I understand,” he says simply.  

“Thanks.” Ronald exhales, shifting his focus to the coffee in front of him. He takes a sip and immediately makes a face. “Oof. That’s real strong.” He nudges the mug toward William. “Wanna sip?”  

William lifts a hand in polite refusal. “No, thank you. I have a very specific way I like my coffee, and surprisingly, I don’t prefer it overly strong.”  

“Considering the hours you work, I’m calling bullshit on that.”  

“Ah, but you’d be wrong.”  

“How?”  

“I have a far more excessive amount.” William glances up in thought. “I believe my record in one night was twelve cups.”  

Ronald chokes on his next sip. “Oh hell no. Twelve ?! I’d be up for days!”  

“Unfortunately, caffeine doesn’t affect me much. That’s why I drink more than the average reaper. It helps enough to keep me focused, but that’s all.”  

“Wild.” Ronald shakes his head, staring down at the dark liquid in his cup. “I’d be bouncin’ off the walls.” He takes another sip, then hums. “Honestly, with this, I just might.”  

William can only imagine the sight of Ronald bouncing off the walls, the image not all that hard to conjure about his companion, but any any and all thought vanishes the moment the waitress sets Ronald’s food down. He expected something at least half-edible. Instead, the sight makes his stomach turn. Everything on the plate is blackened, mouldy, mush. Even the smell is rancid, sending a wave of nausea through him. He instinctively presses the back of his hand to his mouth and turns away. “Here you go,” the waitress says cheerfully. “Enjoy your meal, cutie. I’ll come by when you’re done and let you use our phone.”  

“Thanks.” Ronald flashes her a grin, picking up the provided fork and knife. He glances at William and immediately notices how pale the older reaper has gone. “Sir? You okay?”  

“Okay?” William repeats, his voice sharp, eyes locked onto Ronald’s. “That looks okay to you?”

Ronald frowns and looks down at his plate, prodding at the egg yolk with his fork. “Yeah? What? Do you not like runny yolks or something?”  

William stares at him, utterly baffled. “Runny. Yolk.”  

“Yeah?”  

He watches in horror as Ronald casually cuts into what he assumes was once an egg and eats it. The urge to retch is overwhelming. He needs to get away. “Excuse me, Knox,” William mutters, already pushing himself up from the booth.

“Huh? Where are you going? Don’t you wanna sha–?”  

“No. No, I do not.” William cuts him off, already turning his back to him. “I’m going to see if I can use that phone or, at the very least, wait for you by the front door.”  

“Uh…sure?”  

William leaves Ronald behind and pushes through the swinging door into the kitchen–he’s given pause by the sudden switch in, dare he say, time.

The state of the room is nightmarish. It’s nothing like the polished front of the diner. Rust coats the appliances, dust smothers the surfaces, and shattered plates litter the floor. Flies buzz frantically around a pot left to rot on the stove, the stench rolling off it so vile it makes William’s eyes water. He swallows down the bile rising in his throat and forces his gaze to the landline mounted on the wall near the door. Miraculously, when he picks it up, there’s a dial tone. His fingers move quickly, dialing Eric’s number, hope flickering in his chest.  

It rings.  

And then, someone picks up.

“Eric!” he blurts, far too enthusiastically but the hope is dashed almost instantly.

Nothing but dead air.  

William presses the receiver harder against his ear, waiting, begging for any kind of response but there’s only silence.  

His jaw clenches. Slowly, he lowers the receiver back onto the cradle and bows his head. When he steps back through the kitchen door, something is wrong.  

Ronald is gone.

The booth where he sat is empty, half of the disgusting meal now missing and the coffee–now that William looks at it–has a thick, murky film floating on top. “Knox?!” he calls, turning sharply. “Ronald?!”  

Silence.  

Then–a faint tap against the glass.  

William spins toward the window.  

A boy stands outside, staring at him.  

He looks no older than seven, with reaper-green eyes and nearly orange-yellow hair. His small frame is dressed in an old-fashioned black schoolboy uniform…or perhaps, mourning wear.  

The boy’s expression is unreadable.  

But he is staring directly at William.  

So William takes a step toward the door but the boy bolts.  

Instinct takes over. He rushes out of the diner in pursuit, his breath quickening as he follows the child through the darkened streets. No matter how fast he runs, the boy remains just out of reach, always perfectly ahead. When the child turns sharply into an alley, William doesn’t hesitate. He rounds the corner–and slams into a chain-link fence. The impact jostles him, forcing a sharp breath from his lungs. He stares up at the tall, rusted metal, gripping it, shaking it, as if some hidden latch might give way but there’s nothing. No opening, no sign of where the boy could have gone. As the adrenaline fades, a dull throb settles in his lower back. He exhales sharply. “What on earth…?” His gaze sweeps the alley, searching for any possible clue and then he spots a scrap of paper, fluttering near the base of the fence. He crouches, picking it up carefully. The text is brief, torn from what appears to be a formal letter:—will be his replacement. There are to be no arguments. The Stars have decided. William frowns. Replacement? 

“Sir!”  

He snaps his head up. Ronald stands at the entrance of the alley, bent over, hands braced on his knees, breathing hard as if he’s just run a marathon. “Knox?” William clutches the scrap in his hand. “Where were you?”  

Ronald swallows thickly and points down the road. “I saw a face.”  

William raises an eyebrow. “A face?”  

“Yeah. I was eating when I got this tingly feeling–y’know, the one where you just know someone’s watching you?” He shudders. “At first, I thought it was you, maybe keeping an eye on me for some reason but when I turned around–” He hesitates, visibly unsettled. “It was right there –this horrible, gaunt, wet, skeletal face, just inches from mine.” His breath is uneven as he leans against the alley wall. “You know that saying, ‘if looks could kill’? Yeah, well, I’d be dead. The second I saw it, I bolted. I didn’t stop running until I spotted you coming this way.”  

William watches him closely, a knot of unease forming in his stomach. Something was wrong with this town. “I was chasing a child,” he says slowly. “A boy, around the same age as the ones in the hotel lobby.”  

Ronald straightens slightly. “Wait, really?”  

“Yes. He ran down here and,” William gestures at the fence, “then he was gone.”

Ronald walks over, inspecting it for himself. “How…?”

“I haven’t a clue.” William looks back at the scrap of paper then shows it to him. “But I found this.”

Ronald scans the words, frowning. “Replacement? Stars ?”  

“My thoughts exactly.” William folds the paper again and slips it back into his pocket.  

Ronald exhales, rubbing a hand down his face. “I know I already asked this before, but I’m gonna ask again–where the hell are we, sir?”  

William hesitates. “I wish I could give you an answer.” He sees the tension still lingering in Ronald’s frame, the way he shifts uneasily, his usual lighthearted nature weighed down by whatever he’d seen. William considers for a moment, then decides on something to lift his spirits, however small a gesture it may be. “Do you recall that clothing shop we passed earlier?” he asks.  

Ronald blinks. “Uh…yeah?”  

“Then why don’t we stop in? See if we can find something else to wear, or better yet, something to sleep in.”  

Ronald's eyes light up at the idea. "Yeah. Yeah, I’d like that. Continuing to wear the same clothes I passed out in is starting to get to me."

William extends his arm. "Then lead the way." And Ronald does, sticking as close to William as he comfortably can, not that William minds.

Thankfully, the walk to the shop passes without incident. William keeps his eyes sharp for any sign of the young boy, while Ronald quickens his pace, eager for a change of clothes. When they arrive, he tries the door and finds it unlocked. Much like at the diner, he holds it open for William, flashing him a small smile as he steps inside. "Well, looks just like I expected from outside." Ronald remarks, already browsing the first rack of shirts.

William glances around, his expression unreadable. "I cannot say I’m used to such styles, but I suppose I don’t quite have the luxury of being picky."

"Neither of us do." Ronald plucks a shirt from the rack, holding it up to William with a playful smirk. "Hm. Not exactly your type, but I bet I could find you somethin’."

"Find me something?" William blinks, gently pushing Ronald’s hand aside. "Did I say you could dress me, let alone that I need assistance in that department?"

"You don’t!" Ronald assures him, putting the shirt back. "But you gotta let me pick out at least one thing for you, okay? Just one! You can shoot it down if you don’t like it, but you gotta give me a chance!"

It’s those warm, boyish eyes that get to William. They plead, full of charm and playfulness, yet undeniably sincerity, the kind of gaze that could only belong to Ronald. He exhales, relenting. "Fine. One thing. So long as it’s simple."

"Yes!" Ronald pumps a fist in the air. "You won’t regret it!" In seconds, he’s off, vanishing into the aisles with boundless enthusiasm. William, despite himself, feels the corners of his lips tilt into the faintest smile.

Ronald has an eye for dressing well–it shows in his tailored Italian suits and favourite white Oxfords–so William places some faith in his fashion sense. While waiting, he wanders through the store, his thoughts briefly drifting to whether there might be any useful information hidden away here. Perhaps something stored in the back? But he quickly dismisses the idea, unwilling to let Ronald out of his sight in case something happens again. The face Ronald described is not one he is eager to see, nor does he want Ronald encountering it again. "Okay! I think I got something!" 

Ronald’s excitement is infectious, reminding William–perhaps worryingly–of Grell. However, his enthusiasm is met with a deadpan stare when he holds up not one but two hangers, presenting a navy blazer and a black turtleneck. "I said one."

"But it’s an outfit! They have to go together!" Ronald protests. "C’mon, sir! Just try it!"

William’s eyebrow twitches, but, once again, those eyes wear him down. With a quiet sigh, he takes the hangers and steps into the changing room.

The mirror is smudged with dust and fingerprints, obscuring his reflection somewhat, but he places trust in Ronald’s judgement. He undresses methodically, removing his suit jacket and slowly unbuttoning his dress shirt. He’s grateful he chose to wear something a little more casual for this trip rather than his usual three-piece suit as it makes changing easier, but as his eyes flick over his own reflection, a familiar discomfort settles in his chest.

He’s never been particularly fond of his body, and his gaze inevitably falls to the very distinct scar just beneath his heart. His fingers brush over it, the touch bringing an unbidden memory of the night he received it. He closes his eyes, shaking the thought away before removing his glasses and pulling the turtleneck over his head. The fabric is soft, snug but not suffocating, and he adjusts the collar before slipping into the blazer.

Taking a deep breath, he slots his glasses back onto his nose and assesses himself in the mirror. It doesn’t look half bad, if he says so himself. He isn’t used to wearing colour, but the navy isn’t overwhelming. For all his appreciation of blue, he owns remarkably little of it, making the blazer a subtle but pleasant change. "Well?" he asks, stepping out of the changing room, smoothing his hair back into its usual neat style.

Ronald whistles. "Damn, sir, you look great!"

"Do I? Because I feel, well, silly."

"Silly?! Why?"

"I’m just unused to wearing such things."

Ronald scoffs. "Bollocks, sir, because you look good. Like, yeah, you were hot before, but–"

"You found me hot?"

William’s never seen someone’s face turn so red so fast. Ronald immediately flounders, trying to find the right words to save himself. "Uh, I mean, everyone does! I’m just tellin’ you what everyone was thinking." He coughs into his hand, brushing back his bangs. "Erm, anyway, you look good in colour. Bet some nice greens, maybe even purple, would suit you."

"Purple?"

"Yeah! Cool colours. Your hair and eyes really sell it." It’s like Ronald’s lost in his own little world for a moment, fixing the collar of the turtleneck and tugging down the blazer to straighten it out. "Maybe you could pull off some warmer colours, but I think it’d be hit or miss."

"How do you know any of this?"

"Grell likes takin’ me out with her when she wants to find a new dress for a night out, so she’s given me a few tips and pointers." He snorts. "She used me as her model once, you know. Pretty sure I’ve never worn as many outfits as I did that day. Jeans, shirts, hoodies, coats, skirts–she went all out."

"Goodness. And you indulged her?"

"Well, yeah! It was fun!" He steps back, jabbing his thumbs at himself. "So, wanna try picking something out for me?"

"I would not be nearly as good as you or Sutcliffe."

"So? It’ll be worth a shot! Not like we got anything else to do while we’re here."

He has a point. "Well, fine, but I don’t want to hear it when whatever I pick turns out looking terrible on you."

"Ha! I make everything look good." He winks. William rolls his eyes, trying to tell himself the charm doesn’t work on him. Instead, he collects his shirt and jacket from the dressing room and begins searching for something that would fit Ronald’s style. As far as he sees, there’s nothing that truly strikes him as ‘Ronald.’

Eventually, he finds something that might suit the younger reaper; an orange knitted jumper. He unfolds it, examining the texture and fit, before ultimately deciding against it. "I’m afraid I can’t find anything," he tells Ronald as he lays the jumper back down.

"Hold on! What’s that?" Ronald asks, peering around him.

"Nothing that would suit you."

Ronald playfully nudges William aside and picks up the jumper. He studies it for a moment before yanking off his shirt and pulling the jumper over his head. "Oh yeeeah." He sighs pleasantly, hugging himself. "So warm and so much better than that shirt."

"You…like it?"

"Yeah!" He smiles brightly. "Besides, orange is my favourite colour."

"Somehow, I could have guessed."

Ronald chuckles. "Yeah. I even used to like orange juice just because it was orange."

William just stares at him, completely unaware of the adoration shining in his own eyes. When Ronald’s gaze locks with his, for a brief moment, the world stands still. Then, as a pink flush dusts Ronald’s cheeks, he looks away. William feels his own face heat up and swiftly turns his back to Ronald. "Yes, well, I’m pleased you like it."

"Yep. Yep, I do."

With little idea of what to do next, William suggests they return to the hotel to collect themselves and Ronald agrees. The walk back is silent, an unsettling quiet in which William worries that he has just revealed exactly how he feels about Ronald without saying a word.

********************

Eric is agitated, worried and overworked. Alan sees how tense his partner is and wishes there was something he could do to ease his husband's concerns. He’s worried in his own right, knowing full well that neither Ronald nor William would just walk away from their responsibilities like this. "Fuck," Eric curses, slamming down the phone receiver. "Nothing. Not a fuckin’ thing."

Alan nibbles his bottom lip before stepping behind Eric, pressing his hands against his shoulders and kneading gently. "Surely someone must know where Ronald is. I heard he went out with a few of his mates, right?"

"Aye, and no one’s sayin’ a fuckin’ thing, which makes me worried they fuckin’ did somethin’." He growls, rubbing a hand down his face. "Plus, Spears has fucked off somewhere."

"I know, Eric, I do, but there’s not much we can do except keep things in order. William will come home, and so will Ronald."

Eric exhales heavily, finally allowing himself to relax slightly into Alan’s touch but before he can respond, his mobile suddenly rings. He snatches it up without thinking, desperately hoping for William or Ronald. Yet, the moment he answers, an ear-splitting screech blares through the speaker, making him wince and nearly drop the phone. He swears loudly, slamming his finger on the hang-up button as quickly as he answered. "What the fuck was that?!" he cusses, rubbing at his ear.

Alan stares at the phone wide-eyed. "Even I heard it." His voice is quiet, gaze fixed warily on the now silent mobile. "Who was it?"

Eric grabs his phone again, scrolling through the call history, only to find no trace of the call. His brow furrows in confusion. "Huh?" He turns his phone off and back on, checking again. Still nothing. "I…I fuckin’ hate technology, Al."

Alan places his hands back on Eric’s shoulders, squeezing gently. "That makes two of us."

Before either of them can process what just happened, the phone on William’s desk starts ringing. Eric shares a cautious look with Alan before slowly reaching for it, bracing himself for another assault on his eardrums. This time, when he picks up, there’s a voice instead of static. "William, I worry that your phone has been stolen by some hooligans who–"

"Wait. Hold on. Who’s this?" Eric interrupts.

There’s a brief pause. "Excuse me, who are you , and why are you answering such a private phone?"

Eric bristles. "I’m takin’ over for Spears while he’s away on business. Who the hell are you?"

"I do not like your tone."

"Aye, and I don’t like yers."

"Provide me with your name, then."

"Eric Slingby."

There’s another, longer pause. When the voice finally returns, the tone has shifted to be less hostile and almost…sentimental. "Slingby?"

"Aye."

"Ah. I see. I apologise, then." Faintly, Eric hears another voice in the background. A woman speaks and the man responds to her before returning his focus to Eric. "Slingby, would you happen to know how to get in contact with William? I believe someone has stolen his phone."

Eric glances at Alan before shaking his head out of habit. "No. I don’t. Spears has been unreachable."

“Where has he gone?”  

“To Scotland for three months, for a meeting with the Board.”  

“Goodness, was that this year?” He clears his throat. “Never mind that. You can’t contact him at all?”  

“No. The last time I heard from him, he told me he’d have to stay at a motel because a storm had stopped him from driving the rest of the way home. Do you think someone’s stolen his phone?”  

“Not if he called you to inform you of his situation. When was this?”  

“Three days ago.”  

“Troubling. Very troubling.”  

Eric looks up at Alan, completely at a loss. Alan raises an eyebrow, and Eric merely offers a confused shrug. “Might I ask who I’m speaking to?”  

“Callum Spears.”  

“Callum Spears.” He repeats the name in a whisper, and Alan’s hands freeze on his shoulders. “Ah, I apologise, sir.”  

“There’s no need. Thank you, Slingby, for that information. I wish you well.”  

Callum hangs up, and Eric slowly does the same. “Fuck, that was Spears’ dad.”  

Alan swallows. “I honestly didn’t expect him to call.”  

“No, me either.” Eric looks up at Alan, concern in his eyes. “Are you okay? Is there any bad blood between you and Will’s folks?”  

Alan lowers his head. “I never really met his parents.”  

“You didn’t?”  

“No. The only time I even brushed shoulders with them was when William was in hospital, but that was it.”  

“Spears was in hospital?”  

Alan offers Eric an apologetic smile. “That’s part of what I’m not ready to talk about yet.”  

Eric now has more questions than he did regarding Alan and William’s breakup, but he doesn’t push, as always. Instead, he takes Alan’s hand, holding it tightly. “Fuck, Al. Just, fuck . Where the hell are they? Callum thinks Spears had his phone stolen, and Ron’s mates won’t say a damn thing. I just want them home.”  

“We both do, and so does Grell. She’s already trying to press Ronald’s friends for information, so maybe she’ll get one of them to crack.”  

Eric runs his fingers through his hair, frustration evident in his face. “I hope so, Alan. I really fucking hope so.”

Chapter Text

A day has passed since they arrived in Haven, and an awkwardness lingers in the air. Ronald can feel it between them, this strange tension that wasn’t there before. The look William had given him after they procured their new clothes, has been haunting him. No one had ever looked at him like that, with emotions Ronald can’t quite put a name to. They made him feel warm inside, warmer even than when William had complimented him. The warmth unsettles him, though. He wants to ask William about it, to discuss what happened, but if he’s not imagining things, he’s scared he might get answers to questions he’s not sure he’s ready to face. "I didn’t expect to find the kitchen, but that doesn’t mean I’m not disappointed I didn’t," William says as he returns to the hotel room.

Ronald, who had been standing at the window for most of the time William was gone, watches the foggy, grey sky darken as night starts to descend. He turns around, glancing at the older reaper as William sits down on the bed. "Nothing, hey?"

"Nothing." William sighs, reaching over to fluff up the pillow before adjusting himself to lie down. "I suppose it’s a good thing you were able to eat at the diner," he adds, his voice low. "Despite the condition the food was in."

Ronald gives one last glance out the window before joining William on the bed, sitting cross-legged next to him. "Why didn’t you want to share like I offered? You were looking really pale. I thought the eggs and stuff looked pretty tasty."

William hesitates, his eyes flicking to Ronald. He debates whether he should tell the younger reaper the truth, that he hadn’t mostly eaten a decaying, mouldy plate of food but instead, he just gives a half-hearted shrug. "I...I just wasn’t hungry."

"Okay, calling bullshit on that but whatever," Ronald responds, pulling his knees up and resting his chin on them. Another awkward silence fills the room, one that makes Ronald uncomfortable. He stares at the pillow in front of him, unsure if he should speak up or just let William rest. He'd been gone for most of the day while Ronald stayed behind to have some space, and the older reaper looks ready to fall asleep. "So, how’s your back then?" Ronald asks, breaking the silence.

"It’s fine," William answers, keeping his eyes closed.

Ronald slowly nods, rocking back and forth as he processes the lack of response. "You sure?"

“Yes,” William replies simply, the word flat, though it carries a sense of finality. 

“Okay.” Ronald sighs through his nose, his mind drifting from their current predicament to the night he woke up completely alone in the middle of nowhere. If they'd stolen his phone like they had his watch, surely Eric or Grell would have noticed by now. He likes to think whoever took it would be dumb enough to answer if one of them called. Even if that wasn’t the case, surely they’d realise he was missing by now. They were his only true friends, after all, the ones he actually considered his proper mates. Sure, sometimes Eric got too caught up with Alan, and Grell was always preoccupied with the next date, but they never outright forgot about him. So he holds onto the belief that they wouldn't now.

He sighs again, this time through his mouth, and glances toward William, who lies still, eyes closed. He could almost be mistaken for being asleep, but Ronald knows better. He knows sleep isn’t easy for either of them, especially in a place like this. He sighs a third time. “Is there something you wish to speak about?” William asks, his voice softer now as his eyes crack open just enough to peer at Ronald.

“Huh?”

“That’s the third time you’ve sighed. Is something on your mind? Well, besides the obvious.”

Ronald turns back to the window, watching the darkness continue to swallow the town, and wonders if he should ask William about that look from earlier. Should he just let it go, try to convince himself he was seeing things he thought he wanted to see? “Not really. I guess I was just thinking about Grell and Eric.”

“What of them?”

“Hoping they wouldn’t forget about me. Hoping they’d notice I was gone.”

William opens his eyes fully now, his gaze heavy as he studies Ronald’s face. He doesn’t say anything for a moment, then reaches out. For a split second, his hand hovers near Ronald’s knee before he lowers it gently onto it. “They would,” William assures him, his voice calm. “Especially since you’ve been such a big help to Slingby.”

“You think…?” Ronald asks, lifting his head, though his focus falls to the older reaper’s hand on his knee.

“I know,” William continues. “Not only that, you mean a great deal to them. I’m sure they’re busy trying to find you as we speak.” Ronald’s eyes continue to linger on William’s hand long enough for William to misread it. He quickly pulls his hand away and folds it with its pair on his stomach.

The warmth from his touch seems to vanish too quickly, and Ronald frowns, trying to convince himself it was just the cold in the room. A little extra warmth from any source was probably welcomed. “Can I ask you something, sir?” Ronald ventures, his voice slightly more hesitant.

“What is it?” William responds, his tone neutral.

“When we got our new clothes, you…you looked at me weirdly, and I gotta know, do you…” Ronald trails off, his thoughts tangled. He gnaws at his lower lip, trying to find the right words. “How do you feel about me?”

William closes his eyes again, as if shutting them could somehow protect him from having to face whatever might be lying underneath. “You are my subordinate, and we are stuck here together. What I feel for you does not go beyond a professional relationship.” It’s the way William says it–so mechanically, so devoid of emotion–it’s almost as if William is trying to convince himself that what he says is true. 

The very idea that William might feel something more for him makes Ronald’s heart thump harder, but he forces himself to swallow the feeling. He shouldn’t be assuming anything. Why would he even want that to be the outcome, anyway? It was best if things stayed professional between them. “Right. Okay. Must've been the trick of the light,” Ronald mutters, though the words feel heavier than he’d like to admit.

“It must have.”

Ronald hugs his knees closer to his chest, his arms wrapped tightly around them as if to hold himself together. There's a weight in his chest, and he can't quite tell whether it's guilt or something else gnawing at him. Then, a swell of anger rises within him but not at William, at himself. His question has solved nothing and has only served to make things more awkward between them. It's clear that William still feels there are things he shouldn't share with Ronald, whether it’s the way his back aches or the true feelings he's trying to hide and, obviously, there are things Ronald isn’t telling William either, so he decides to rectify some of that. They need to trust each other here. “Sir?” 

“What?”

“Remember when I told you I outlived my purpose?”

“Knox–”

“I want to tell you,” Ronald says, then takes a deep breath. “My mum didn’t like me. And before you ask, I don’t know why. She never gave me a reason, never said anything that might’ve hinted at why but she didn’t. She never really spoke to me, or did anything with me. I did the housework, learned to cook well enough to feed us, picked up odd jobs to help pay for the house. The only time she’d talk to me was when she was telling me I’d messed something up or when she was ordering me to get something for her. She’d only let me eat when she thought I’d done enough, when she thought I’d earned it. I worked myself ragged trying to earn her attention, but I never could. So, when I joined the academy to work in dispatch, it was because by the time I was old enough, she probably thought she couldn’t control me anymore. so she…kicked me out.” Ronald falls quiet after that–a secret he’s never told anyone, not even Grell or Eric. “My dad wasn’t even in the picture much because she won’t let him and that’s why my watch means so much to me. He gave it to me as a present for graduating from the academy.”

William takes a long pause, his eyes heavy with unspoken words. He slowly shifts to sit up and takes Ronald's hand in his own, squeezing it gently, affectionately. "I'm terribly sorry for her, Ronald."

Ronald lets out a humourless laugh, wiping away a stray tear that slips from his eye. "Why are you sorry? You’re not my mum."

"No," William replies softly, "and I can’t fully understand what that must’ve been like for you, but what I do know is that no one should have to live like that. Your mother…she sounds like an old hag, if I’m honest. She’s someone you’re far better off without. You’ve grown into a wonderful young man, Ronald. Someone who’s there for his friends–reliable, loyal, hardworking. You didn’t let her decide who you’d become, and that’s not an easy thing for anyone to do."

Ronald offers him a faint, solemn smile. “Thanks, sir.”

William squeezes his hand again. "I have to ask, though. Why are you telling me this now? You seemed pretty keen to keep it secret back at the diner."

"Well," Ronald shrugs, looking down at their entwined hands, "we have to trust each other in this place, right? We only have each other to rely on so I thought, if I told you that story, maybe you’d trust me more, and then you wouldn’t lie about your back, or…or how you feel about me."

"Ronald–"

"Hey, you don’t have to say anything, yeah?" Ronald cuts in. "Feelings are scary. I get it. But you could’ve at least told me I wasn’t just imagining that look in your eyes."

William studies Ronald’s face for a long moment, as if weighing his words carefully. Then, he seems to concede. “Alright. I’ll do my best to be more honest with you.” He slowly lets go of Ronald’s hand and sighs. “And I hope knowing my true feelings towards you, won’t change anything between us. As I said before, there is nothing that would happen. I respect your preferences, and I’m still not ready to start another relationship with anyone.”

The heavy feeling in Ronald’s stomach doesn’t shift. “Okay. Thanks, sir.” He tries to smile, but it’s fleeting, a shadow of what he wants to convey.

William glances away, his eyes distant for a moment. Then, after a few seconds, he turns back to Ronald. “You’ve shared something very personal with me, and now I think it’s time I share something with you. To show you that I trust you, as you want to trust me.”

Ronald hesitates, his brow furrowing slightly. "You don’t need to."

"I don’t, you’re right," William admits. "But I want to." He shifts slightly, fluffing up the pillow behind him and leaning back against it, rolling his shoulders to ease some of the tension from his back. “I suppose you want to know how I got my injury.”

“I would.”

“Then I do hope you won’t think less of me,” William says, suddenly more serious.

"Doubt I could."

“We will see.” William clears his throat, then begins, his voice taking on a reflective tone. “As I’m sure you’ve figured out, a wound like mine is the result of a death scythe. I was much younger when I received such an injury–far younger and overly confident. Before I transferred to the academy in London, I spent my first two years training in Japan. And for those first two years, I fully believed I was the best in my class. I doubted anyone could match my top marks. However, one evening, someone challenged me to a duel. Naturally, I accepted. For this duel, we only had our training scythes. And for the first half of it, I was untouched. My mother had come to watch, and given who she was and how strong she was, I felt an intense need to prove myself to her. For the longest time, I thought I was doing just that. Then, I made a mistake. My overconfidence got the better of me, and I misstepped, giving my opponent a clear opening, one he didn’t hesitate to take. I remember the searing pain spreading up my back before I found myself on the ground, my opponent being declared the victor.” he winces, as if the memory physically pains him. “What I remember most vividly, though, is the look of utter disappointment on my mother’s face. That was far worse than any injury I could’ve sustained.”

Ronald flinches sympathetically. “That sounds really bad.”

“It was.” William sighs, his gaze distant. “Once I was released from the hospital, they told me I wouldn’t be able to reach my max performance again but I could do a diligent job as a reaper, as long as I took the appropriate rest and stayed off the field more than on it. That’s why I graduated with a straight B average, alongside Sutcliffe.”

“Is that why you came to London?”

“Yes,” William nods. “My mother’s disappointment was too much to bear. I decided to transfer away from both of my parents. If I was going to fail, I didn’t want to face them–didn’t want to see that look in their eyes. Thankfully, I didn’t fail. But it was a long, gruelling journey to get where I am now.” He shakes his head. “That day remains one of the few stains on my record, but it also taught me a valuable lesson–humble yourself before you get yourself killed.” He pauses, then looks slightly embarrassed. “I do hope that doesn’t change your judgment of me.”

“Why would it?” Ronald responds without hesitation. “Sir, you were young. We all did stupid things when we were younger, I get it.” He offers William a proper smile this time, one that’s genuine, without any need to mask his emotions. “Thanks, sir, for telling me that.”

William smiles faintly. “Well, you’re one of the only reapers I’d ever tell that story to. It’s rather embarrassing for me to admit such a failure, but I know you wouldn’t run off and gossip about it.”

“Hell no. What we say in this room stays between us.” Ronald promises, his voice firm.

“Good.” William lets out a relieved sigh. “I’d be mortified to know anyone else had heard that story.”

“Honestly, so would I,” Ronald chuckles. The atmosphere feels lighter now, the tension between them easing. “Sir?”

“Hm?”

“Can I hug you?”

William looks taken aback by the question, his brow furrowing. “Why?”

Ronald shrugs, a sheepish smile crossing his face. “I dunno, just feels like one of those ‘hug it out’ situations.” William hesitates, looking uncomfortable at the idea. Perhaps it's because he’s just confessed to having feelings for Ronald, but after a brief pause, he comes to the realisation that this might be his only chance to be affectionate toward him. Slowly, he pulls Ronald into an embrace. It’s gentle, but warm. Ronald immediately returns the hug with full force. 

While Ronald never expected to be hugged by his superior, William’s arms feel reassuring, solid. For a moment, Ronald feels safe, the whispers and the cold that usually haunt him pushed away entirely. “You know,” he murmurs softly, “I don’t think I’d rather be trapped here with anyone else.”

“Is that so?” William asks, his voice teasing but sincere.

“Yeah,” Ronald nods. “As much as I love Eric’s company, I reckon we’d be at each other’s throats in days. Grell’s already too much sometimes, and Alan? I feel like we’d run out of things to talk about real quick.”

“Ah, fair enough then.”

Ronald gives William a gentle squeeze before leaning back, eyeing his superior thoughtfully. “So, be honest with me. How’s your back?”

“Sore, but I’ll survive. I don’t think I’ll need to take the painkillers tonight, at least. Regardless, I think it’s best if I lay here for a bit to ensure I get some of the recommended rest.”

“Then I’m gonna head out and see what else I can find around this place. I’ve been a bit useless, so it’s time I make up for that.” Ronald flashes a quick smile, hopping off the bed.

“You don’t have to.”

“I know, but I wanna.”

“Then take my phone for a torch if you need it. Don’t be gone too long, or get yourself into trouble.”

Ronald chuckles, grabbing William’s phone from the nightstand. “I won’t. I promise.” He gives William a wink before slipping out of the room, letting the door click shut behind him. There are still the lower floors of the hotel they can check with their main goal is to find a kitchen, which had been a disappointment earlier. Ronald still finds William’s reaction to the food in the diner strange, but he figures that’s something he can bring up later. Maybe William just didn’t like the way the meal was prepared and didn’t want to sound rude or something.

As he enters the stairwell he looks at the barricade of furniture, wondering if it’s worth trying to move before deciding it’s not worth the trouble right now. So descends, his fingers gliding lightly along the railing. The second floor is darker, a stark contrast to the lit-up third, the window at the end of the hall is one of the few boarded-up ones. He switches on the torch of William’s phone and proceeds down the hallway, methodically checking each door. None of them open until he reaches room 208. He shines the light inside before stepping in, finding it almost identical to his and William’s room except for one glaring difference. Next to the dresser, there’s a human-sized hole in the wall. 

He crouches, inspecting the edges of the hole, shining the light through it. As expected, it leads into the next room so he steps back, trying the door to 209 first. Of course, it’s locked. So then returns to room 208, staring at the hole before taking a deep breath and stepping through. 

Unlike the neatness of the previous room, or even his and William’s, the space beyond the hole is in utter chaos. The bedsheets are torn and scattered across the floor, the mattress is ripped open, and the inside of the pillows is scattered everywhere. The curtains hang crookedly from the rod, barely holding on, the dresser has been toppled over, the lamps thrown to the ground, and porcelain shards litter the floor. Ronald carefully steps over a broken lamp that looks like it was hurled against the wall. “Wow,” he murmurs. “Talk about no housekeeping.” He laughs nervously, trying to mask the unease creeping up his spine. 

Just as he thinks he won’t find anything of interest in the room, something catches his eye–a reflection of his own face in a cracked mirror, which hangs askew on the wall. However, it’s not the mirror itself that draws his attention, but the faint outline of a smaller hole behind it. 

Ronald quickly pockets William’s phone and carefully grasps the brass ornate frame of the mirror, lowering it to the ground. He then uses William’s phone to peer into the small, fist-sized hole. At first, all he can see is darkness, but then something glimmers faintly. Curious, he compares the size of his fist to the hole. If he twisted his hand just right, he could fit his entire arm inside. He thinks it’s probably nothing, but feeling a sense of intrigue, he slides his arm into the hole.

Just as his hand encloses around the object inside, something clamps down on his hand. Ronald’s heart leaps into his throat as he jerks his arm back, but whatever is inside the hole refuses to let go. His hand is trapped, and no matter how hard he pulls, it won’t budge. 

Suddenly, he hears a sound. The floorboards outside the door groan, and his blood runs cold. Creak . His eyes widen as the sound moves closer, passing by the door and continuing down the hallway. Then, it reaches the door of room 208, where he hears it groan as though it’s being shoved open. Ronald pulls at his arm again, pressing harder against the wall, but it remains stuck. 

The sound continues, getting closer, closer , until it no longer resembles floorboards–now, it’s the distinct crack and grind of joints, bone grinding against bone. Crack . It stops just outside the hole, and Ronald freezes. His entire body goes still. He stops breathing, stops shaking, stops everything–his wide eyes glued to the hole, waiting for anything. The silence is deafening, and all he can hear is his own heartbeat pounding in his ears.

Long, flesh-peeled fingers curl around the bottom edge of the hole, their unnatural length stretching towards him. An arm, equally long and gangly, moves forward, its bitten, chipped nails scraping across the rug as it pulls itself closer. The thing's back is grotesquely twisted, its neck snapped at an impossible angle, hanging limp as it grins–a large, stitched, unnatural smile, far too wide for any human face. Its soulless, beady black eyes bore into Ronald with a chilling intensity. 

It’s crawling toward him, its movements accompanied by the sickening creaks of joints shifting in unnatural positions, as though every bone in its body is in the wrong place. The sound is enough to turn Ronald’s stomach. His fight or flight instinct kicks in and adrenaline shoots through his veins; he feels every muscle in his body surge with desperate energy. 

In one strong yank, he’s finally able to free himself and out of instinct, he tries to summon his scythe before he recalls that’s not possible. Fear overtakes him, his eyes locked on this creature before his mind suddenly reconnects with reality and he dashes toward the door, scrambling to unlock it before he’s bolting down the hallway. It’s only when he skids to a stop before the boarded up window does he realise he’s made a mistake. His only other option is the lift. He can hear the creature following after him, his eyes refusing to look at the thing as he fervently presses the down button of the lift, begging for it to work. “Pleasepleaseplease.” and then, utter silence.

********************

It feels like an eternity since Ronald left, and the weight of time presses on William in the quiet of their room. He has no way of knowing how much time has passed as there’s no clock, and he’s certain that any clocks in the building would still be stuck at eight, but the feeling that Ronald should have returned by now gnaws at him. He shifts, forcing himself to sit up, his gaze fixed on the door as if Ronald will walk through it any moment.

As more time passes, with no sign of Ronald, a tight, anxious feeling settles in his chest. Something’s wrong.

Tension builds, and William can no longer sit idly by. Pocketing the room key, he exits, scanning left and right. With how enormous the hotel is, he’s utterly unsure of where Ronald could have gone. “Knox?!” he calls out, hoping his voice will carry through the empty hallways. “Knox, where are you?!” His voice echoes, but no reply comes. His chest tightens. Something’s definitely wrong.

Deciding to take the right hallway, William strides forward, continuing his calls, hoping for any sign of the younger reaper. “Bloody hell. Knox!” His voice cracks slightly, betraying the worry building in his gut.

Then, faintly, a response. “Sir!”

A surge of relief floods him, but it's quickly replaced with urgency as he hears the desperation in Ronald's voice. He moves faster, almost instinctively, his shoes clattering down the stairs. As he reaches the bottom, he sees Ronald at the end of the hall, slumped against the wall under the boarded-up window. The dim light above him flickers, casting an eerie glow on the scene. William’s heart leaps into his throat as he breaks into a run, not caring about anything but getting to Ronald. He kneels beside him immediately, gently shaking Ronald’s shoulder. “Knox.” he says, “Ronald, can you hear me? I need you to open your eyes.” he checks over the younger reaper, trying to see if he could determine what happened, then he sees Ronald’s hand. It’s got three long cuts straight through the flesh on the top of his hand, blood beading from the wounds. He reaches into his blazer’s pocket to procure a handkerchief, the best option he has right now to wrap Ronald’s hand. The blood starts to seep through the white cloth but thankfully, it doesn’t completely soak the handkerchief. “Ronald, what on earth happened to you?” he sits down, pulling Ronald against him in an effort to protect him, for some reason fearing Ronald might be taken away from him.

Minutes–or maybe hours–pass, with William hypervigilant of every sound, every movement until finally, he feels a shift from Ronald. A groan. William eases Ronald away just enough, and the moment their eyes meet, a rush of raw emotion floods through the younger reaper. Without a moment’s hesitation, Ronald launches himself into William’s arms, nearly knocking him flat onto his back. “Sir! Oh, fuck, sir!”

William grunts as he’s taken by surprise, but his arms instinctively wrap around Ronald, holding him close. “What’s wrong? What happened?” His voice is low but urgent, as he watches the younger reaper pull back slightly, looking shaken.

“I…” Ronald struggles to find the right words, his breath uneven as he tries to explain. He gestures vaguely, his eyes darting away as he tries to process what he saw. “I don’t think I’ve ever been that scared in my life…” he whispers, his voice barely audible. “I…I don’t know what the hell it was, but I know it was real.” He shudders, his hands trembling at his sides. 

William’s heart aches as he sees how deeply shaken Ronald is. He doesn’t want to make the younger reaper relive the details, so he chooses to remain silent. Instead, he says what he knows to be true. “As terrifying as that situation was, you’re alright now. I’m with you. That thing…whatever it was, is gone.” His voice is firm, trying to reassure Ronald, but a flicker of unease lingers in the back of his mind. 

Ronald breathes a little easier, his voice calming as he repeats softly, “Yeah. Yeah, I am. You’re with me…” He says it a few more times, almost like a mantra, as if grounding himself in William’s presence. After a long breath, he relaxes just a little. “Okay. I think I’m okay now.”

“You are.” William affirms, his voice warm and steady but then he leans back, looking at Ronald’s hand, the blood now more evident on the handkerchief. He furrows his brow. “Now, what on earth were you doing with your arm in that hole? You’ve injured yourself doing so.”

Ronald’s mind flashes back to the moment, the fear still fresh. In his panic, he hadn’t felt the pain, but now that he’s calm enough to realise what happened, the stinging of the cuts hits him. He looks at his hand, the blood dark against the white cloth, and the pain sharpens. “There was something in the hole,” he mutters, looking down at the floor, unable to meet William’s gaze. “Something shiny."

“And that’s a good enough reason for you to stick your arm into a mysterious hole?”

“You should’ve seen the room, sir. It’s destroyed , so I thought it might’ve been something useful.”

William sighs, pushing himself to his feet before helping Ronald to rise as well. “First of all, do you have my phone with you?”

Ronald taps his fingers together awkwardly. “I might’ve dropped it in that room.”

“Mmhm. Then return to our room and I’ll–”

“No way. I’m not goin’ anywhere without you,” Ronald interrupts, making his point by locking their elbows together. “The last thing I need is to see that… thing again.”

“I suppose that’s fair.” William begins to lead the way back, but Ronald slows, then freezes inches away from the door to room 209. “Knox?”

“I’m just gonna wait here for you.”

“Alright.” William enters the room, just as surprised as Ronald was by the state of it. “Goodness. Someone wasn’t very happy,” he comments, bending down to pick up his phone. “You’re right, the room’s in a right state.” As he leans up, his eyes catch the hole Ronald mentioned. Curiosity piqued, he shines the light inside and notices the same glinting of something shiny inside.

“You comin’, sir?” Ronald asks, his voice faint, clearly still lingering outside the room.

“I’ll be in a moment. I see what you were trying to grab.”

Ronald hesitates, then slowly pokes his head into the room, swallowing his uncertainty. He takes a small step past the threshold, his body shuddering with a chill. Without thinking, he slots himself right against William’s side, as though the closeness might somehow protect him from the return of that creature. “Yeah, I thought it was weird. I just wanted to see what it was, to figure out why someone would hide it in a hole, in a hotel room, behind a mirror.” William feels a wave of curiosity himself. Despite being the eldest of the two and thinking he’d be the more sensible one, he’s drawn in by the mystery. He passes Ronald his phone before rolling up the sleeve of his sweater and blazer. “You’re not doin’ what I think you’re doin’,” Ronald says in disbelief.

“Unfortunately, I am. Whatever’s in there has me intrigued as well. I just hope I don’t suffer the same fate as your hand.” William holds his breath, slowly easing his arm into the hole. He feels sharp, jagged edges scraping against his skin as he slides his arm through, the sensation almost like the hole itself has razor-sharp teeth but with no immediate harm, he presses on until his fingers make contact with the object Ronald had been trying to retrieve. The moment his hand closes around it, something sharp clamps down on his wrist, the pressure as intense as it had been on Ronald’s hand. “Shit.”

“Really?!”

“Seems whatever’s in there, someone doesn’t want anyone to have it,” William summarises, straining just as hard as Ronald to yank his arm free. He can feel something sharp beginning to dig into his hand, those jagged points sinking into the skin of his arm. He forces himself to stay calm, not wanting to frighten Ronald more than he already is. “Knox, pray tell, what did you feel in here?”

“Just something clamping down around my hand. Why?! What’s in there?!”

“I’d rather you help me free my arm before I explain.” William grunts, his muscles burning as he pulls again, desperate to break free.

“Right! Right, shit, erm, let me see if I can open the door to the other room and see if there’s something that’ll help from that side!” 

William watches as Ronald bolts off, and he takes a deep breath, trying to steady himself. He lets his arm go slack, no longer fighting, realising that struggling could only worsen the situation. Then, after what feels like an eternity, something changes. The tight grip around his hand loosens, and the sharp teeth that had been sinking into his flesh begin to retract. He holds his breath, carefully pulling his arm back from the hole. To his surprise, there’s no resistance as he does. “Knox! I’ve got it!”

Ronald whirls back into the room, his eyes wide with disbelief. “How?!”

“I can’t say for certain, but my best guess is the contraption is designed to punish anyone who tries to take this,” he explains, holding a locket up in his palm, “without permission. It’s a natural reaction to try to yank your arm free, and in doing so, you trigger the mechanism, which makes you fight harder to get away. I’m certain that if I hadn’t relaxed, I’d be without an arm by now.”

Ronald swallows hard. “So I got off lucky.”

“Seems so.” William continues to examine the locket, wondering why on earth someone would protect it with such a bizarre device. “Odd.” What’s even odder is the small picture code that locks it shut. “I’ve never seen a locket that requires a passcode to open.”

“Yeah, me either.”

William turns one of the dials, noticing that each one has a set of pictures made up of dots in varying positions. “I believe the code is in Braille.”

“Braille? Do you know any Braille?”

“No, unfortunately.” William keeps twisting one of the dials. “Even if I did, I don’t have the combination.”

“How many dials are there?”

“Four.” William folds the locket over in his hand, frowning. “This is all so confusing. The last few days, and now this. I can’t make any sense of it.”

“That makes two of us,” Ronald mutters, shaking his head. “It’s like…like we’re in a whole other plane of existence.”

“We may as well be,” William agrees. “We’ve lost all connection to home, we’re seeing things, hearing things…and now you’ve had an encounter with a monstrous creature.”

Ronald shudders. “And we still don’t know anything about Haven. Just the name.”

“Just the name.”

Ronald glances around the room, piecing things together. “I bet whoever trashed this place was looking for that,” he suggests, gesturing towards the locket.

“Perhaps.” William agrees, rolling his shoulders as he feels the weight of the day settle into his muscles. “Which then begs the question, what’s inside it? Usually, a locket is kept on one’s person. If they went through the trouble of hiding it and locking it away, then perhaps there’s something inside that someone didn’t want anyone else to see.”

“Maybe it’s hiding some sort of dark secret? Evidence of an affair, or a murder, or something like that.”

“An odd thing to keep in a locket, but I suppose any theory is logical in these circumstances.”

Ronald folds his arms across his chest, rubbing his hands up and down his sleeves as a shiver runs down his spine. “Can we go back to the room now, sir? I’m starting to get really cold again.”

“Good idea. While we’re there, I’ll see if I can open this locket.”

Ronald follows as William slips the locket into his blazer pocket. Many things about this place have set his nerves on edge, but the locket sits the heaviest with him. “Good luck, sir,” he says quietly, swallowing hard. “You’re going to need it.”

********************

“Eric!” Eric’s hand halts abruptly as Alan throws open the door to William’s office. “Grell’s finally got one of Ronald’s friends to talk!”

Eric jumps to his feet. “She did?”

“Yes! Follow me!”

Eric doesn’t hesitate, quickly trailing after Alan as he leads him down a corridor to an office Eric’s only passed a handful of times. Inside, Grell has a reaper forcibly seated in a desk chair, looming over him as though she’s ready to strike the moment he moves. “Eric, darling! Perfect timing! Now, you tell him what you told me,” she says to the trembling reaper.

The reaper swallows hard, visibly nervous. “We went to a party and when me and Marie left, we didn’t see him anywhere, swear on my life! It was like he just…vanished. We thought he’d either gone home with someone else or was off getting it on in the tall grass, but I swear , we wouldn’t have left if we thought he’d gone missing.”

“So ye left despite not seein’ the lad when ye were his only ride back home?” Eric growls, stepping forward and slamming his hands down on the desk. “And instead of checkin’ if he was busy, ye just assumed and bailed? What kind of bloody friends are ye?”

“We didn’t wanna get involved if he was having a good time!”

“Doesn’t matter if ye don’t know if the lad was or wasn’t, does it?” Eric’s voice grows colder, more dangerous. “If ye were his friends, ye’d have looked for him, not just left him in the middle of bloody nowhere.”

“We didn’t know he’d–”

“Doesn’t. Fuckin’. Matter whether ye knew he’d gone missing or not. The point is, ye’re lousy friends. Now show me where this party was, and maybe I won’t kick yer arse to the moon.”

The reaper’s hand trembles as he pulls out his phone, showing the map to Eric. His fingers shake violently as he holds it out, the fear evident in his eyes. “D-Don’t hurt me. Please.”

“I’ll think about it.” Eric stands, ready to head for the door. “Actually, why shouldn’t I? Ron’s been missing for almost a week now, and ye never said a word? Not even a ‘oh by the way, maybe he’s out there’? Did ye even bother looking for him?”

“No…”

“Mmhm.” Eric glances over at Grell. “Grell?”

“Yes?”

“Have fun with him.”

Grell’s grin widens, her eyes alight with a sinister glint as she gazes at the reaper, who visibly cowers under her predatory stare. “Oh, darling, I will. I most certainly will.”

Alan follows Eric from the office, his expression cold and unsympathetic. He glances at Eric, curiosity piqued. “Are you going to see if you can find anything out there?”

“Aye. I’m hoping Ron’s just stranded somewhere.”

“That doesn’t sound very likely.”

“No, but it’s a chance, and I’m gonna fuckin’ take that chance.” Eric cups Alan’s cheeks, pulling him into a deep kiss. “I love ye, hen, and I’ll be back shortly, I hope.”

Alan takes a deep breath, trying not to pull Eric in for another kiss. “Alright. I hope you’re able to at least find something out there.” Eric gives Alan another quick peck before he walks out, leaving the office building behind.

As it turns out, ‘shortly’ is quite an understatement. The drive to the party location takes over an hour and a half, and when Eric finally pulls into the desolate lot, he sits there for a moment, struggling to wrap his head around the fact that Ronald willingly came all the way out here, just for a party. Perhaps it’s because he’s out of the scene now, but it just sounds like a horrible idea. “Ronald?!” Eric calls into the empty wilderness, hoping that he’s right–hoping Ronald will stumble out of the trees, a complete and utter mess and thanking him for finally coming to find him but he’s wrong.

Eric doesn’t leave right away. Instead, he starts combing through the abandoned site, hoping to find something–anything–that might tell him where Ronald went. Instead, what he does find makes him curse under his breath. Under a bush, partly buried in the dirt, lies not only Ronald’s treasured watch but his phone as well. “You fuckin’ kiddin’ me?” he mutters, brushing the dirt off both items. Knowing Ronald’s passcode, Eric unlocks the phone. The screen lights up with missed calls from both him and Grell, along with a string of unanswered texts she’d sent. His chest tightens with frustration, but he tries to stay calm. He scrolls through Ronald’s photos, hoping for some clue that might help solve this mystery. Instead, all he finds are photos of Ronald in increasingly obscene positions, from sober to absolutely smashed. “Damn it, Ronald,” Eric mutters, a pang of disappointment shooting through him. His paternal instincts flare up as he looks at the images. He’d hoped Ronald would be more responsible.

Sighing, Eric pockets the watch and the phone, heading back to his truck. He sits in the driver’s seat for a moment, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel. Coming out here might as well have been a waste of time if not for finding Ronald’s things. He starts the engine, his mind spinning with possibilities of where Ronald could have gone. He drives aimlessly for a while, slowly giving up hope, when a petrol station catches his eye. It’s a long shot, but he pulls in anyway. 

Inside, the shop is quiet, and the cashier looks up as Eric enters. “Evening, sir.”

“Aye, evenin’.” Eric places his palms on the counter, leaning in slightly. “Listen, I’m here lookin’ for someone. He’s a young lad, ginger-blond hair, dyed black underneath, with a pretty tellin’ fringe in his bangs. Black, thick spectacles, white oxfords. Any of that ring a bell?”

The cashier takes a moment, eyes narrowing in thought before he nods, much to Eric’s surprise and relief. “Kinda does, actually. Think he was with someone, too.”

Now that’s a surprise. “Who was he? Tall, black hair, suit, black-rimmed glasses?”

“Yeah. Yeah, that’s the guy.” The cashier gestures with his thumb over his shoulder. “I was in the back, takin’ a small break since we barely get anyone comin’ by this late, and when I came back, there was money on the counter. Checked the security footage, and yeah, the taller lad paid for a sandwich and coffee. Left a nice tip too, didn’t stick around for any change.”

Eric drums his fingers on the counter, processing the information. That had to be William. So, they were together then? “Then I guess ye wouldn’t have known where they were goin’?”

“Nope, sorry.”

“Shit.” Eric curses under his breath, frustration mounting. “Well, thanks, lad. That was a big help.” He gives a quick wave, then heads back to his truck, his mind racing. William and Ronald were together. Why? The only other clue he had was William calling him, saying he'd be staying somewhere due to the storm. Where could that have been? And had Ronald stayed with him? Maybe there’s a place nearby? With that thought in mind, Eric pulls onto the road again, keeping his eyes peeled for anything.

After a while, a rundown motel appears in the distance. It doesn’t look like any place William would’ve stayed willingly, but again, he was caught in a storm. Him and Ronald both, so this must have been their only option.

When Eric steps inside the motel, a woman is behind the counter, focused intently on sorting through some files. She doesn’t even notice he’s walked in until he speaks. “’Scuse me, lass?”

She startles, her head snapping up, and then offers him a small, apologetic smile. “Oh, I’m sorry. I’ve had a lot on my mind recently.” She sets the papers aside and looks up at him. “Are you looking for a room?”

“No. I’m lookin’ fer someone. Two someones, actually.” He repeats the same description he gave the cashier, but she doesn’t seem to recognise them. “Please, lass, I’m beggin’ ye. If there’s anything you can remember, I need ye to tell me.”

She taps her pen against the desk, her gaze turning thoughtful as she pulls out the check-in book. “I had to rush home last night for an emergency and when I came back, there was money left on the desk. Perhaps one of them left it? Here, you can check the list, see if you recognise any names.”

“That might help.” Eric takes the book, scanning down each name until his eyes stop near the bottom of the last page. “William. This is him. William Spears.” He looks up at the woman. “Thanks.” He leaves the motel and heads for the room William signed himself into. He reaches the door, bangs his fist against it, and calls out, “Spears?! You in there?” No answer. Not a single sound–no footsteps, no voice, nothing from the other side. His heart sinks as his hopes fall flat.  With the wind blown from his sails, Eric walks away, heading back to his truck, his shoulders slumping with a frustrated groan. “Damn it.”  As he leans against the truck, his phone suddenly rings. He grabs it, only then realising how late it actually was. “Fuck,” he curses under his breath before answering, his voice sharp with concern, “he–”

“Eric! You need to get back here now!”

“Why?! What’s wrong?! Is Alan okay?!”

“He’s as shell-shocked as I am!” Grell’s voice drops to a whisper, “Mr. and Mrs. Spears are here.”

Chapter Text

Eric’s expectations are both high and non-existent when Grell told him he’ll be arriving back at the office with Mr. and Mrs. Spears waiting for him. He doesn’t know much about them–no one really does–except for the rumors floating around. While he’s not usually one to put much stock into gossip, given how easily things get twisted, he knows rumours have some inkling of truth behind them. Still, these are William’s parents and that alone says a lot.

He doesn’t get far when he enters the lobby of the offices as Alan is quick to push against his chest, ushering him away from the staircase. Despite Grell’s call having nothing to do with Alan, he’s still relieved to see his partner is fine for the most part. The expression on Alan’s face has him wondering what other than the Thorns is bothering the younger reaper. “You can’t go up there yet.”

Eric grabs Alan’s arms, offering him a confused stare. “Why not?”

“Because I need you to promise me that you won’t tell them who I am.”

“Huh?”

Alan swallows, twisting from Eric’s grasp to hold the older reaper’s hands in a near death grip. “Grell’s already called you to warn you about them, I know that, but I need you to promise me you won’t tell them who I am, okay? I’m not Alan, I was not dating their son and I was not the reason he was put in hospital, got it?”

“Alan, what happened? If ye want me to play along, I’ve gotta know more of the story.”

“Why? You just have to refer to me by a different name, that’s all.”

Eric levels him with a deadpan look, “Alan.”

Alan ignores Eric, continuing to think out loud, “it’d be easier to just call me…Arthur! Or something.”

“You do not look like a fuckin’ Arthur.”

“Eric, please.”

Eric knows he promised Alan he wouldn’t pry and would wait for the younger reaper to come to him with the full story but being told to lie to Willima’s parents because Alan’s clearly afraid they might persecute him for sending their son to the hospital is more than he can stomach without knowing what happened. Had Alan attacked William or vice versa during some heated argument?

As Eric peers into Alan’s pleading eyes, he releases how far-fetched that idea is. Alan and him had plenty of heated arguments but they never escalated into violence and despite William being known to get physical when he’s at his wits end, Eric never thought of him as they type to strike his partner for any reason. Besides, Alan still speaks fondly of his time with William and Eric doubts he would speak with such affection if there had been any sort of abuse. “Fine, but you’ve gotta promise you’ll tell me everything, okay? This sounds like something I should know.”

Alan cringes, debating with himself whether to agree to those terms before letting out a frustrated groan, “fine. Alright. I’ll tell you everything if you promise to keep me quiet.”

“Deal.”

Alan exhales slowly, some weight lifted from his shoulders. “Thank you.” Eric brings Alan’s hands up to kiss the back of each before gently pulling him aside to ascend the stairs. Alan follows closely behind, clutching tightly to the hand he refuses to let go of.

As they near the top floor, Eric already hears Grell’s voice. He’s not surprised to hear the flirtatious tone which makes Eric curious about what Callum actually looks like. Despite all the whispers and rumours, Eric’s never been interested in putting faces to the names but now that he sees them, even if he didn’t know who they were, it’s clear who they resemble. William’s icy glare is replicated in the older man’s eyes while he carries himself with perfect posture. He sports a sharp jawline beneath a full, neatly trimmed beard with high cheekbones and chiselled features. His deep brown hair is gelled back while a few strands of grey poking through. He’s about Eric’s height, with square shoulders and long legs.

Kimiko, on the other hand, has a more subtle strength. There’s a commanding presence about her, in how she stands, her own glare piercing. Her thick black hair is styled in a bun with a flower hairpin holding it in place with a strand of bangs on either side frames her oval face. Her posture is just as straight as Callium’s, her hands folded politely in front of her while Callum’s are crossed over his broad chest. Eric feels Alan hold even tighter to his hand, obviously feeling Kimiko’s sharp gaze land solely on him when her eyes sweep across them both. If Alan thought he could get away with being someone else before, he highly doubts he can now. “Ah! There’s the man in charge!” Grell’s voice breaks the silence between them, sauntering over to put her hand on Eric’s arm, “Mr. and Mrs. Spears, this is Eric Slingby.”

Like before, when Eric’s name is mentioned, there’s a certain, almost affectionate, tone of voice that comes from Callum as he offers his hand to Eric, “we’re pleased to meet you, Mr. Slingby.”

“Aye, you too Mr. Spears.” Eric greets, shaking the older reaper’s hand.

“Please, call me Callum.” he opens his arm for Kimiko to step forward and she bows in greeting, “you may call her Kimiko as well.”

“Indeed.” she answers with an oddly soft smile. “We do not wish for formalities with you.”

Eric wants to ask why but now is not the time to discuss anything other than William’s disappearance. That’s why they’re here after all, Eric assumes, to figure out where the hell their son went. “I appreciate it.” He turns to the office door and opens it. “Why don’t we talk in private?”

“Excellent idea,” Alan says, stepping away from Eric to grab Grell’s arm, trying to tug her with him, “Grell and I will–”

“Please, you are both acquaintances of William’s, correct? I’m sure what we will speak of would involve you as well.” Kimiko cuts him off but Alan sees the other intention behind her eyes; she knows who he is.

“As much as I’d love to stay, unlike Allie here, I have work that I need to finish before I can even think about socialising.” habitually, Alan glares at her, knowing she’s making a jab at him being on forced medical leave, “however,” and her voice switches to one more serious, even for her, “if there is anything I can do to help find Will and Ronnie, let me know. I want them home and safe just as much as any of us do.” though she does turn to Callum, giving him a wink and blowing a kiss, “until then, ta ta darlings.”

Kimiko watches her leave with a quirked eyebrow, “an interesting one she is.”

“Aye, well that’s Grell’s for ya.” Eric comments.

“Hm. Well, enough small talk. I wish to speak about what she’s just described, especially now knowing there is another reaper missing as well.”

Eric gestures with his arm for them to enter the office and once he steps inside after Alan, he closes the door behind him. Right away, Kimiko is observing William’s desk, her gloved fingertips dragging across the polished wood while Callum stands off to the side with his arms remaining crossed. “Right, there’s no need to beat around the bush. William’s missing and we want to know everything you do, Slingby. I’ve made multiple calls and no one has an inkling of where he might be. Those that he would have met at the conference all confirm he left the moment they were allowed to.”

“You mentioned on the call with Callum that William called you to tell you he was staying the night at a motel to wait out a storm, yes?” Kimiko asks Eric, lifting a document from the desk to casually read over it.

“Yes, he did.” Eric leans against the door, takes a deep breath then explains what he found during his trip to the party venue when Ronald was last seen. 

When he mentions Ronald’s most likely with William, Alan snatches his arm. “Ronald’s with him?! He’s okay?!”

Eric places his hand over Alan’s, nodding. “Aye. The lad at the petrol station said they arrived and left together, so if anything, that’s a good sign. Neither of them are alone.”

“Oh thank Styx.” Kimiko sighs, placing the paper back on the desk. “I feared the worst.”

Callum approaches her, placing his hand on her lower back, “as did I, I’m afraid.”

Kimiko breathes for a moment before looking back at Eric. “Ronald, you said this name was? William’s companion?”

“Aye.”

“And is he reliable?”

Eric scratches the back of his neck. “I mean, yeah. The lad’s a good one and even if bein’ stuck with Spears might be a pain in th arse–” he winces, recalling too late he’s speaking to, “sorry.”

“We raised him. We understand how…ornery, he may be.” Callum comments, sounding almost flippant, “at least it doesn’t sound like he’s changed much upon coming to London.”

The tone of voice doesn’t sit all that well with Eric, especially considering the circumstance, but he chalks it up to that being Callum’s way of dealing with his own concern. “Anyway, Ronald is a good lad to be with. He has a way of makin’ someone feel better about a situation.”

“As long as William isn’t alone, I do not care who he’s with.” Kimiko states. “Now, this motel. What did you find?”

Eric shakes his head, “nothin’. All I know is the lad paid for a room but when I went to said room, no one answered. No idea what car Will drives either, so I can’t even say if it was in the lot or not.”

“Damn it all.” Callum sneers. “Then why the hell won’t he answer any calls? The last time he avoided them, he was put in hospital on the verge of death. If this is his way of deciding now would be a perfect time to try again, I swear I’ll–”

“Callum.” Kimiko snaps.

“Kimiko.” Callum snaps back. “I know you thought the very same thing just moments ago.”

“But I would not say it. I have more faith in my son than to think he’d do something again, especially when someone is with him.”

“I know my son.”

“As do I.” Eric feels Alan press even closer to him, uncomfortable with the conversation unfolding in front of them.

“Enough of this.” Callum sighs, putting a vexed hand to his forehead, “This is getting us nowhere and Styx knows where the hell they’ve gone.” he directs his attention back to Eric, “show me where this motel is.”

Eric scratches the back of his neck again. “I would but I told ye over the phone that I was takin’ over for Spears, and I can’t–”

“If the Board wishes to issue complaints, then I will handle them. Finding my son and your friend takes precedence over whatever mundane tasks they want you focused on.”

Eric is taken aback by that, considering what he’s heard about Callum. “Ah, yes sir.”

“And I wish to be taken to William’s home.” Kimiko says, “Allie, may you take me?”

Alan feels his face heat up for two different reasons. He fears being alone with her, but how could he refuse a worried mother? “It’s, ah, it’s Alan, actually.” he corrects her.

“Then Alan? May I see where my son once occupied?”

“Of–Of course.”

Eric fishes out his keyring from his pocket and frees William’s key from it, passing it to Alan, “here.”

“Thanks…”

Callum turns toward the door, eager to get a move on but he pauses for a second before leaning to kiss his wife’s cheek. “I will try to have faith,” he whispers.

She doesn’t react to the kiss outfight but she does lean a touch more into the affection, “good.”

“Now come, Slingby.”

"I am. We'll meet you two back at our place." Eric says to Alan before giving him a quick side hug then following Callum out of the office.

Once the door closes behind them, silence descends in the room as Alan is left alone with Kimiko. He’s ready to jump out the window, her expression remaining the same, neutral, hardened one she’s had nearly this entire time. “Well? Shall we?”

“Ah yes. We shall.” He remains as calm as possible as he leaves the office with Kimiko in tow, her entire stature far different from how terrified he’s feeling. She knows. He knows she knows and it makes it far worse that she has yet to say anything. How does she know? He never formally met William’s parents and only saw them once in passing when William was in hospital, so surely she doesn’t remember his face from that brief moment.

Walking with her to William’s home feels almost excruciatingly long, many questions and rushed apologies forming on his lips to which he has to swallow down. Kimiko remains patiently silent next to him, content to follow which makes him realise that, if she remembered his face from such a brief moment, she would have recalled where William’s home was, thus she’s never been there, has she? Her and Callum really hadn’t seen William since coming to London? William didn’t have much to say in regards to his parents either, other than a passing comment meaning whatever relationship they had must have been strained at best.

“Here we are.” Alan announces when they arrive at William’s home. Yet, he hesitates to actually unlock the door. It’d been such a very long time since he’d been inside William’s home, a home that, for a time, used to be his as well.

“It’s quaint.” Kimiko comments, observing it from the outside. “Perhaps a bit presumptuous, but it reminds me of the home we raised William in, though lacking any traditional aspects.”

“You’re not the first person to make that observation. About it being quaint, I mean.” he holds his breath as he unlocks the door and pushes it open. Immediately, he’s transported back in time. He knows the layout of this house like the back of his hand and all the memories he used to share with William come flooding back. At least, during the time they were happy together. “This is…it.”

Kimiko closes the door once she steps inside, side eyeing Alan as she stands next to him once again. “Are you alright? You have tears in your eyes.”

Alan clears his throat, looking away from her as he tries to blink away said tears. “I’m fine. I’ve…I've just been ill as of late, that’s all.”

Kimiko doesn’t press after that. Instead, she removes her heels at the door and wanders further into her home, Alan watching her either judge or admire William’s choice of decor. He slips his own shoes off before following her, feeling like a ghost in his own skin as he wanders down the same hall he used to. “I see he’s kept things relatively organised.” Kimiko comments, swiping her finger across the coffee table in the sitting room. “Although he should have hired someone clean while he was away. Dust gatherers quickly.”

“He has Eric looking after his home while he’s gone but since he’s been gone longer than anyone expected, Eric’s been stuck at the office.” Alan explains, fidgeting with the hem of his sleeve.

“I see.” she wanders next into the kitchen, Alan watching her open the various cupboards, a frown tugging at her lips. “There’s little to no food here. Nothing canned or boxed.” she opens the fridge, “completely empty. I do hope this means it’s empty because he’s not been here rather than not eating at all.” she glances at Alan as she closes the fridge. “You wouldn’t happen to know the answer, would you?”

Alan swallows. “Well, from what I’ve seen, he doesn’t eat all that much, no and his portions are rather small.”

She clicks her tongue. “I see he’s carried over his bad habits.” She wanders from the kitchen, Alan continuing to follow her now down the other hallway, opening the three other doors before she finds the room she was apparently looking for. The bedroom. It’s just as Alan recalled it. It resembles the rest of the house in colour; warm with the dim sunlight filtering through translucent, cream coloured curtains that match the colour of the rug underneath the bed to avoid any scratching of the hardwood floor. The bed itself has a dark brown blanket covering it, the pillows propped up and fluffy. A bookshelf stands next to the bed, the floor to ceiling shelves filled to the brim with novels, almost half written in Japanese. There’s a desk opposite the door that’s free of any clutter and the last thing of importance in the room is a wardrobe tucked nearly against the wall at the otherside of the room, opposite the bed. It’s rather ornate with fancy designs carved into the wood and silver handles on the doors. “As I suspected it to be.” Kimiko comments, going to the bed and straightening out the blanket to smooth out the wrinkles that Alan barely even noticed.

“Is that a good thing?”

“It’s as expected. I’m pleased to see my son did not fall to filth when he left us. I’ve seen how some of his peers lived and I feared they may have rubbed off on him.” she adjusts the pillows, “thankfully, they have not.”

Alan looks her over, not quite sure how to ask the question he’s wanted to, so he just decides to do it. “Why did you and Callum never visit?”

He almost thinks she’s ignoring him as she goes about tidying the room despite the lack of tidying it needs, until she finally turns to him, her hands once again folded in front of her. “Because we were not invited.”

Alan tilts his head. “He never offered?”

“No. Once he left Japan, it felt as if he was all but done with us. Our communication rarely went beyond letters either. The only time he would bother to call and have a real, honest chat, was a couple of weeks after we’d seen him in hospital.” Alan freezes as her eyes stare directly into his. “Alan Humphries, I presume?”

“You…remember?”

“Of course I do. I rarely forget a face and with a surname as unique as yours, it was simple to connect the dots.”

“I-I only saw you in passing.”

“And that was all I needed. Of course, I couldn’t be sure what your relation to William was, until he told us who you were. Not directly, as William seemed to want you to keep some anonymity, but in his slightly drugged induced state, his tongue was a little looser than it would be otherwise.” Alan feels so suddenly on the spot, his fight or flight instincts kick in. A part of him actually believes he’s going to be slain by his ex-lover’s overprotective mother right on the spot until her expression finally softens. What used to be the glare that made him tremble, is now holding his eyes in a softer, almost sympathetic, gaze. “I see why he was so fond of you.”

It’s like whiplash and Alan just blinks multiple times, trying to find his voice. “You…you do?”

“Your reaction to simply entering the home was telling and I recall seeing those same tears when you left William’s hospital room that night. Unlike I presumed, you did care for my son, didn’t you?”

Alan lowers his head, slowly nodding. “I did. Of course I did. I wouldn’t have been with him if I didn’t but…but then things just, fell apart and…and,” he swallows, looking back at Kimiko, “and I was the reason he was put in hospital.”

“No. You were not.”

The way she says it as if it’s fact surprises him. “But I was. I was his lover and I–”

“He is a grown man, Alan. He is capable of making his own choices, even the bad ones.” she tilts her head quizzically, “might I ask, were you happy with him?”

His first instinct is to lie, is to please the woman in front of him but he quickly realises how idiotic that idea would be, so reluctantly, he’s honest. “I was at first. During the, well, the ‘honeymoon’ phase, things were exceptional and I could feel how he felt about me, but then…but then, like I said before, things started to fall apart. He started to shut me out, he started to focus solely on his work and I felt like I no longer mattered and I tried so hard to work things out with him but he just didn’t listen. So I…” he realises how much he’s telling her without even answering her question, so he composes himself, rubbing the side of his neck. “No. After a while, no. I-I wasn’t happy with him.”

“Then you made the right choice for yourself. A relationship where one is not happy, is not one you should force yourself to remain in.”

“You…you don’t hate me?” the shock is clear in his eyes.

“I do not and nor does WIlliam.”

That’s probably the most surprising thing he’s heard. William was cordial with him after the incident, of course he was, but he always assumed, deep down, he harboured some loathing for him. “He doesn’t…? How do you know that?”

“As I mentioned, he called a few weeks after he was released from the hospital and told me everything and by the end of it, he was earnest when he told me he still cared for you. That, as long as you were happy, he would be happy for you.”

Alan slowly looks down at the floor, letting that sink in. “He still cares.” he whispers, feeling those tears start to return. “He still cares.”

“He does.” She tells him, fondly patting his cheek. “While he is very capable of carrying a grudge, the way he spoke about you, were not words formed by hate. I do not want you to feel guilt when there is no reason to, Alan.”

Alan swallows. “I…I feel light years worth of weight has been lifted hearing that.”

“I would hope. I could see that guilt in your eyes.” she exhales, turning around to approach the window, pulling back the curtain to stare into the distance, “my concern now remains for William’s safety.”

Despite his outward appearance, Callum’s concerned as well. At least, Eric hopes that’s the case. The man resembles William to a T, keeping his emotions in check, not so much giving Eric an inkling of an idea of what he’s thinking. “This is where you last found any sign of their whereabouts?” Callum confirms as Eric slows to a stop just at the turn into the motel.

“Aye. Then Grell called to tell me you arrived, so I drove straight home.”

Callum observes the road in front of him, then directs Eric’s attention to the right fork in the road, one that could easily be obscured by heavy rain or, dare he say, fog. “Try down there. As unlikely as it is, perhaps William took the wrong path.”

Eric does as Callum instructed, turning down the right road. For the most part, the ride with Callum was quiet despite the questions Eric wanted to ask. Why does it sound like both Callum and Kimiko know his family? Know him? As far as he’s aware, no one outside his hometown knew his family when they were alive. Their death, however, was another story.

Not long after, Eric’s forced to come to a stop when there’s a blockage in the road. Another vehicle sits idly in front of them–still and quiet. Eric glances at Callum before getting out of his truck, Callum following his lead as they carefully approach the vehicle. It’s not running and peering inside tells them there’s no around to claim it either. The only thing they do see is a suitcase on the backseat and keys dangling in the ignition. “Strange.” Eric comments.

Callum looks the car over himself before trying the passenger’s side door; it’s unlocked. Opening the door, he leans over to check the dashboard for any idea of what could have happened but the fuel gauge tells him there’s still half a tank left which begs the question: why was the car abandoned like this? He pops open the glovebox and other than a map, he finds nothing much of use inside. “Slingby, you’re positive you don’t know what car William drives?”

“Sorry sir, but I don’t. Why?” the moment the question’s asked, the reason clicks. He stares at Callum for a long moment. “Ye don’t think this is Will’s car, do you?”

“Check the suitcase. That should give us an answer.”

Eric opens the backseat door and pops open the suitcase. He doesn’t expect to find much other than clothes, and yes, there is a pair of pajamas but there’s a wallet tucked into the pocket inside the lid. He pales when he opens it to find who it belonged to. William. “Fuck.” Eric leans up and cups his hands around his mouth, trying to project his voice, “Spears?! Ron?!” he calls out in hopes one of them would come running from the trees, thankful they’ve been found, but no. It’s still silent.

Callum closes the passenger door, taking a deep breath. This was already enough of an answer about his son’s wellbeing but even if he didn’t have further hope for William, this Ronald fellow was still out there as well–a young man traveling with William. Perhaps, for once, he’d shove aside those pessimistic thoughts and hold out hope that Kimiko was right, that William wouldn’t do anything stupid or rash in the presence of someone else and if she was wrong, well, he would not shed a tear.

********************

“What about stars?” Ronald suggests, watching William continue to fiddle with the locket.

William feels like he’s done about half the combinations he could think of at this point but he’s still no closer to unlocking whatever secrets this locket holds. “It’s a four-letter combination, Knox. Not only that, I still don’t know braille to properly input those letters." He tries to wedge the tip of his thumbnail into the small slit, hoping to pry it open but the attempt fails. “That creature you saw may have been protecting this. That entire contraption was. So what the hell is in here that’s so important to hide?”

Ronald shrugs, already settled in for bed with the blankets thrown over his lap. “Dunno. I still say it holds evidence for some big crime or somethin’.” he shivers, “something worth that creature guarding anyway. I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep properly with the image of that thing still in the back of my mind.”

William glances at Ronald, sympathizing with the younger reaper. “I can’t imagine anyone could.” with a dejected sigh, he stores the locket away in the nightstand next to his side of the bed then settles in himself. “What about your hand? How is it?”

Ronald looks at his injuries, noting they’re not nearly healed enough for a reaper’s body. “Okay, I think. The cuts sting when I touch them, but it’s nothin’ major.” he offers his hand to William, “but I’m no doctor, so what do you think?”

“I’m not a doctor either.” William reminds him but still takes his hand to inspect the wounds. The edges are slowly healing, the skin pink where some of it it's already healed but the wounds themselves are deep enough that they may take overnight, or even another day, to fully heal. “The fact it’s taking this long is troubling, but I suppose it’s better than losing an entire hand.”

“Or arm.”

“Or arm.” William agrees, letting Ronald’s hand go. He finally removes his glasses, placing them on the nightstand then flicks off the light before lying down. Once the light was out, that was usually sign any socialising was to end but he feels Ronald shifting almost constantly next to him. Seems even the music floating from his phone wasn’t helping Ronald tonight. “Do you want to try and sleep, or would talking help ease you into it?”

Ronald returns to his back, staring up at the ceiling. “Talkin’ might help.” he picks at the blanket covering the both of them, “Alan said your favourite colour was blue.”

“It is.”

“What kinda blue? Royal blue? Baby blue? Light blue? Sky blue?”

“I suppose I don’t really have a preference for one shade over another. Though, if you twisted my arm, I would have to pick royal blue.”

“Ooo, good choice.”

“In the spirit of being truthful with one another, I have a royal blue suit tucked away in the back of my wardrobe.”

Ronald closes his eyes, imagining his superior in such a suit. What comes to mind is certainly a very dashing image. “I think you’d look great in it.” he covers a yawn with his hand. “You know, when we get back home, we should do something together.”

William glances at him, surprised but intrigued, “pardon?”

He yawns again, barely aware of what he’s saying. “Yeah, like, I dunno, maybe a shopping trip and I can force you into other colours.” he chuckles, “see what really makes Mr. Spears pop.”

“Honestly Ronald.” it sounds exasperated but, and perhaps it’s because he’s tired, Ronald swears he hears a tenderness in his voice as well.

The conversation fades as Ronald struggles to stay alert, eventually letting himself drift off but even as his body lies still, his mind continues to wander. It drifts to the “what ifs” and suddenly, he’s touching someone’s hand, a soft kiss is pressed to his lips and someone whispers promises and sweet words into his ear. William’s arms are around him, one hand holding his own, the other resting firmly on the center of his back. He’s being led in a waltz, something Ronald never learned how to do but WIlliam leads them in perfect synchrony, the older man not once breaking eye contact with him. His mouth moves, forming words Ronald’s can’t hear yet he’s captivated by every syllable. His arm instinctively wraps around William’s neck, leaning in closer as if William is the safest person he’s ever been with. He smiles and William smiles warmly in return. The hand on his back disappears to gently cup his cheek instead, holding his head in place as William leans in for a soft kiss. It leaves Ronald weak in the knees and he tries to pull himself closer to William, to close the space between them.

The moment he tries to get even closer, William’s suddenly standing away from him, letting him drop helpless to his knees. The warmth in William’s eyes is gone, replaced by his cold, piercing glare. Ronald reaches out, tries to call for the older man, but his voice is non-existent. He tries again and again but each wordless plea causes William to get further and further from him. He feels tears streaming down his cheeks, sobs wracking his body as he begs. In a heartbeat, his dream transforms into a nightmare and he’s left alone in an all-consuming darkness.

A sudden gust of freezing wind jolts him awake. Confused, he flails on the floor before sitting up, trying to make sense of where he is.

Another gust of wind jolts him completely awake and he quickly realises he’s in the hotel lobby. Turning around, he sees the front doors are flung wide open by the fierce wind which suddenly dies down the moment his brain reconnects with reality. He swallows hard, rubbing the side of his head as he looks around, only to notice he’s still directly beneath the seven portraits of those soulless children. Their eyes are fixed on him, staring down with an unsettling intensity but after a quick rub of his own eyes, their gazes are straight ahead again. A shiver runs through him and he pushes himself to his feet, keeping his attention locked on the portraits, terrified they might start to move if he dares to look away.

How the hell did he get down here? He doesn’t sleepwalk and not only that, William was the one closest to the door, so surely he would have woken the older man when he left. As it stands, he feels like the only soul in the entire building. The unease only grows as he realises he’s standing out in the open in nothing but his bright orange boxers (although he silently thankful his unconscious self chose to throw something on so he wasn’t down here bare arse naked). On high alert, he expects–no. He waits to see that creature crawl from one of the many dark corners. “Hey. You.”

A shiver runs down his spine as a voice speaks from behind him. Swallowing his fear, he spins around, preparing to defend himself. Instead, he sees a child standing at the opening to a dark hallway, one Ronald didn’t dare walk down. Is this the same child William mentioned seeing? “Um, hey.” Ronald tries to sound friendly, “you okay? Where’s your mum? Or dad? I–” Suddenly, the child’s eyes widen in pure fear as if he’s the monster and without warning, the boy darts down the dark hallway, disappearing into the incredibly thick shadows.

Part of Ronald wants nothing more than to retreat back to their room, to crawl under the covers where he feels warm and safe with William but another part urges him to follow the child in some hope to find some answers. Steeling himself, he follows the boy down the hallway, hating how this darkness seems to deepen the further he walks. His eyes should be accustomed to the dark as a reaper but not now. Much like how his hand should have healed by now, there’s something that’s making them feel like the human souls they’re meant to collect.

He comes to a halt at a door at the end of the hall. This is the only place the child could have run to, so taking a deep breath, he tries the doorknob. Finding it unlocked, he turns it and pushes the door open.

Instead of unimaginable horror lurking behind it, he’s met with the hotel office. The room is in as much disarray as the rest of the hotel–dust settles on a desk, a broken, torn lampshade hangs from the ceiling and yellow, crumbled papers are scattered across the desk in a chaotic mess while a rusted old filing cabinet sits next to another door. It’s not what he expected but it’s a relief of sorts.

The floorboards creak under his weight as he steps carefully inside, part of him wishing his sleepwalking self had put on shoes as well before deciding to wander the hotel at night. Nevertheless, he makes it to the desk without injuring himself on whatever could be lurking underneath the scattered papers and he begins his search for some answers.

Each page Ronald reads reveals nothing but mundane, everyday work papers. The most interesting thing he finds so far is buried beneath everything: there’s a key laid across a piece of paper with a riddle scrawled hastily on it.

A pen that writes in the colour of crimson

A shard of glass as sharp as a blade

We share a commonality 

That could end in lethality

“Great, just what I needed,” he mutters, folding the scrap of paper carefully before examining the key. There’s nothing special about it, other than the fact whatever door number it belonged to was missing, as if the manufacturer forgot to print it. Well, at least that took some of the mystery out of what the riddle was meant for, but that still didn’t mean he knew what the hell the riddle was talking about.

As he stands there, lost in thought, a sudden shift in the atmosphere catches his attention. He hears voices, voices that grow nearer and nearer each passing second. His heart races and he freezes where he stands, forcefully listening to what they were saying, “I don’t care how we do it, I just know that we must.”

“But he’s not the child promised.”

“But they share the same blood. He will listen. He will forgive us. Unless you wish to incur the wrath of the Stars for this error and not give him anything?” The moment Ronald hears the twisting of the doorknob, he does the only thing he can think of; he throws himself under the desk, pulling his knees as tightly as he can against his chest and trying to make himself as small as possible. 

In the time it takes for him to blink–just that half second–the office is completely transformed. The lights flicker to life and the room is brand new, the sounds of the hotel completely restored, like it’s hosting a variety of guests and then, the door creaks open and all he sees is a pair of heels and dress shoes enter the room. “You know I don’t. None of us do.”

“Then find me his brother. This town will not suffer because of my wretched sister.”

There’s a long pause. “Of course.”

Ronald watches as those dress shoes leave and he reactively pushes himself further under the desk as those heels approach it. He clutches the key so hard, he feels it digging into his palm but it’s the only thing that’s keeping him grounded right now. He then hears the furious sound of her scribbling on paper, the rustle of her movements and then, the sound of paper being ripped. He flinches then, when she slams her palms down onto the desk. “You will pay for this, Rose and I shall enjoy the day I am able to witness your pitiful demise.”

He closes his eyes, trying to steady his breathing but when he opens them again, the office has returned to the same way he’d entered it. The transformation, the conversation, when it all felt so real now feels like it’s fading into some distorted dream. He peeks his head out from under the desk and looks around, but no one’s there. Swallowing hard, he crawls out from under the desk only to turn around to see if he can find whatever paper she was scribbling on. Next to the folded riddle, there’s now a list of names, names that match the ones on the back of those eerie portraits but one name–number eight–had been furiously crossed out so aggressively, the pen tore through the paper.

He doesn’t think twice about it. Snatching the list of names, along with the folded riddle and the key, he bolts back towards his and William’s room, desperate to tell him everything but as he reaches their hotel door, he forgets that he needs the key to enter it. Without thinking, he slams straight into the wooden barricade, his forehead meeting the door with a painful thud. He winces, rubbing his forehead then rapidly starts pounding on the door. ”William! WilliamWilliamWilliam!”

One knock too many and as soon as the door swings open, his fist connects with William’s bare chest. Ronald freezes, blinking at William who winces and rubs the area; he’s glaring at his companion now, not that Ronald blames him. “What the hell are you doing out there Knox?”

Without answering, Ronald shoves William inside the room, slamming shut the door behind them then shoves the papers and key into William who scrambles to suddenly hold the objects being thrust at him. “I need you to hear me out,” he says, voice trembling in urgency,

The annoyance on William’s face quickly morphs into concern, his brow furrowing. “Why? What’s wrong? What happened?”

Ronald takes a deep breath, doing his best to steady himself. His mind races as he tries to piece everything together, explaining the surreal experience the best he can without sounding like a complete lunatic, “and I know it was real sir! Real!”

William blinks a few times, staring at Ronald as if he’s suddenly grown a second head. “Knox…you’re telling me you slept walked down to the lobby, woke up and saw the same child I did, followed him to the office and then experienced some version of the past where this woman was demanding another sacrifice because one was stolen?”

“I mean…yeah.” Ronald’s voice shakes slightly, but he’s sure of what he saw.

“And you believed it?” William asks cautiously, trying not to upset his companion.

Ronald nods rapidly, “it felt real.”

William takes a deep breath, putting the items he was forced to hold on the bed. “Ronald, I’m sure it did, but I’m also sure something like that couldn’t happen. This town is clearly playing with you, making you see things and especially after you’ve just woken up in such a disorientating way, you presumed it was real.”

Ronald’s shoulders sag as William’s explanation makes more sense then the idea of time bending back to the past. “I mean…I guess. Yeah. That makes sense.” William frowns at him, unsure what else to say. He’s about to speak when Ronald hands him the items again, this time in a calmer manner. “I did find these though.”

William takes the time to look over the times now that things have calmed down. He examines the key, then reads the riddle, then the list of names. “Hm. Interesting.”

“Think so?”

“I do.” he focuses back on the riddle. “This in particular.”

“I’m gonna guess the key goes to whatever the riddle opens but I got no idea what it’s tryin’ to say.”

“Nor do I.” William thinks for a moment then shakes his head, storing the items into the bedside drawer where he stashed the locket. “For now, it’s best if we return to sleep. Let’s think on things in the morning. I can see you’re still rattled and a bit of rest might do you good.”

“It probably would.” Ronald agrees quietly, but even as he settles into bed, silent once more, William feels an unsettling weight in his chest. He’s not sure if it’s guilt or concern but he doesn’t like seeing Ronald like this. Clearly, whatever Ronald experienced, whether real or not, affected him deeply.

“I’m sure Slingby and Stucliffe are looking for you right now.” William says, trying to offer some comfort as he lays next to Ronald.

“You think?”

“Of course. As I’ve told you before, they wouldn’t forget about you. You mean far too much to them.”

“Well, thanks, sir.” Ronald says, smiling faintly, but the smile falters when his mind drifts back to that dream. “Um, sir?”

“Yes?” William replies once his spectacles are off again and he’s laying beside Ronald.

“When you dream about someone, what does it mean?”

“I suppose that depends on the dream you had.” he folds his hands on his stomach. “Describe it to me.”

“Well, I was dancin’ with them.”

William raises an eyebrow. “Well, I’ve heard dancing in a dream can symbolise love or desire for the person you’re dancing with.”

Ronald suddenly shifts uneasily. “Oh.”

“May I ask who your partner was?”

“Ah just someone you don’t know. A work friend…which now that I think about it, makes me sound like a total prick since you told you me you like me and–”

“Knox. Ronald.” William interrupts in a quiet, gentle tone. “I’ve already told you, my feelings for you aren’t something I want you to feel pressured to reciprocate or even dwell on. I know my stance with you. Please, if there’s someone else on your mind, don’t feel you have to keep it from me. I won’t take offence.”

Ronald frowns, rolling away from William to curl in on himself as he processes William’s words. How does he tell the other man that his dream was about William himself? What did that even mean in the first place? Did he have feelings for William? He’d felt something, yes, but the idea of those feelings being romantic makes his stomach twist. “Yeah. Right. Sorry.”

William doesn’t like how bothered Ronald sounds. “You wanted us to trust each other, yes?”

He did but he’s regretting that request now. “Yeah…”

“Then trust me now. Tell me who it is that you seem to have feelings for.”

Ronald bites his lower lip, trying to come up with some random name but the truth feels too big to deny. When he rolls back over to meet William’s eyes–his gaze sincere and gentle–he sighs and shuts his own tight. “You.” he whispers. “I was dancing with you in my dream.”

William falls dead silent. He blinks, as if not sure he heard correctly. “You…what? Me?”

“Yeah.” Ronald swallows, voice barely above a murmur. “You.”

William doesn't know what to say. The air feels suddenly tense now, heavy. “Well, it was also just a one-off dream, yes? I’m sure it didn’t mean anything.”

Ronald’s heart sinks. “Probably.” and just like that, the conversation comes to an awkward, uncomfortable, end. The room feels colder now and Ronald is left feeling more disoriented than ever. His mind is caught between what he just experienced and what he’s feeling now, but there’s a new rock settling in the pit of his stomach, one that time won’t make go away.

Chapter Text

He wants to bang his head against the wall. Surely, surely, William would have forgotten what he said last night. They were both tired; perhaps William assumed it was just a slip of the tongue or a cover-up to avoid revealing who Ronald was actually dreaming about. They could move past the incident without making things awkward between them. If anything, Ronald dearly hopes William doesn’t see that answer as a taunt. ‘I know how you feel about me, so I’m going to give you false hope that I feel the same’ type of taunt, a taunt that a very deep part of him isn't even sure it would be a taunt.

It would help if he could gauge William’s reactions, but as usual, the man’s face is blank and stern. William’s woke before him again and by the time Ronald’s roused from his own slumber, the older man is already dressed. There's no ‘good morning’ this time, in fact, William is still too invested in the locket Ronald found. He can’t tell if William’s using it as an excuse to avoid talking to him or not, his thumb absently twisting one of the dials. “So…” he starts slowly, knocking the toes of his shoe against the carpet, “what do we do today?”

The gap between Ronald’s question and William's answer is almost non-existent but in Ronald’s mind, it feels like minutes before the older reaper finally looks at him. “I cannot say.” William replies, his attention swiftly returning to the locket in his palm. “We lack any information about this place save a photo, a locket, a monster and the Stars. Plus that riddle you found.”

“A photo?”

William spares Ronald a quick glance before doing a double-take, his expression shifting to surprise when he sees the genuine confusion on the younger reaper’s face. “I didn’t show you?” Ronald shakes his head. “Ah, my apologies.” William places the locket aside then reaches into his blazer pocket, producing the photo he’d found behind the hotel desk. “I found this the first day we arrived here.” he says, offering it up to Ronald.

Ronald takes the photo, scanning each of the smiling faces in the picture. He doesn’t recognise any of them, yet, something tells him that he should. “Someone must have had a vendetta against these two,” he mutters, running his thumb over the scratched out plaque, “I wonder what this said.”

“Considering how rough and deep those scratches are, the vandalism was clearly done out of pure hate.” William comments, pausing as he glances at the photo again before adding, “as for the plaque itself, I’ve yet to see anywhere around this palace, which begs the question, was it taken down at some point? Perhaps even stolen?”

“Maybe it was dedicated to the founders of the town or somethin’? Or maybe to whoever the ‘Stars’ are?”

“That’s a good guess, though I’ve never heard of such an organisation in our world.” William rests his fingers on his chin, searching through countless memories, “all I’ve ever known is the Board. The Undertaker would most likely know more than I ever would, but unfortunately, we can’t contact him.”

“What about mum or dad?”

“I doubt they would even know…” William’s gaze suddenly flicks to his phone that’s still playing the same calming piano riff that’s helped them sleep. “However, I was able to contact my father before…” he leans over to grab his phone, the clock still stuck at eight mocking him before he swipes the lock screen away to open the phone app. He takes a deep breath before dialing his father’s number then holds the phone to his ear. One ring. Two rings. Three rings. The call drops after the fourth and William nearly crushes the phone in his hand. “Seems I won’t be that lucky again.”

“Damn it.” Ronald scowls, staring at the photo again before setting it aside on the nightstand. “There’s gotta be some connection between all of this, right? Like…I dunno, but things have to add up somehow.” he crosses his arms, frustration building. “That ripped paper you found in the alley, what’d it say again? Something about a replacement?”

“Yes. Someone or something is to be replaced. The ‘Stars have decided’, which leads me to believe there is some form of higher power that had control over this place.”

“Replaced.” Ronald shifts his weight to his right foot, “I know you think I was sleepwalking last night, that what I experienced wasn’t real, but the lady who came into the office said she needed 'his brother' to be a replacement. So, what if she’s one of the Stars?”

William gives him a curious look, pocketing his phone. “While initially, yes, I believed you were dreaming the entire encounter, after sleeping on it, this place is strange enough that what you experienced could very well have been real.”

“Sure as hell felt real and I saw the same kid you did.”

“Very true.”

“And that list of names I took? Those were the names of the kids on the wall in the lobby.”

“With the last name forcibly crossed out, no doubt the child that this Oliver was meant to replace.” William furrows his brow, trying to piece what little pieces they have together. “Children only ten years of age are being used–no. Are being chosen for some sort of ritual and if there is a hiccup, such as one of those children going missing, this town would incur some sort of punishment. What exactly would that entail?”

Ronald taps his fingers together, “maybe I’m overthinkin’, but, aren’t demon’s the kinda creatures that would wanna take kids that age? I mean, they’re pure, right? And we know demon’s like…pure.”

William looks at Ronald and Ronald fully expects William to shut him down, but there’s a flicker of acknowledgement in William’s eyes, his arms folding over his chest as he thinks over Ronald’s suggestion. “A demon.” He sits up straighter, as if the very word would cause one of those creatures to apparate in front of them. “You do have a point, yet, I find it hard to believe a demon would be in our territory and no one would know.”

“I guess that’s true. Plus, if there was, the Board would be right quick to put an end to it, right?”

To his surprise, William doesn’t quite answer right away, folding his arms tighter against his chest. “There was an incident before that would suggest otherwise.”

“Incident?”

“The Board covered it up quite well, thus I’m not surprised you didn’t hear about it, but there was an incident regarding a demon somehow finding its way into our realm and not just any demon either, but a Scout.” he watches Ronald’s face morph into surprise and horror all at once. “It, well, it went on a rampage. It destroyed buildings, terrain and worst of all, it slaughtered a handful of reapers and three of those that perished, were children.”

Ronald just continued to stare at William open mouthed, “no way…”

“Unfortunately, yes and the Board sat idly by. They did nothing to help and it was my mother, along with a few others, that was finally able to put an end to the beast but not before there were more casualties.” he exhales slowly, glancing to the side, as if he finds it hard to look Ronald in the eyes, “from the way my mother told me that story, it was one of the darkest days of her life. An event that began her, and my father’s, distaste for the Board themselves.”

“That’s…that’s awful, sir. I…” Ronald breathes in then out, trying to find the right words that he wants to say, but none of them feel appropriate for the situation he was just told about. “Well shit, then maybe the Board wouldn’t do anything if there was a demon infesting our realm.”

“As awful as it sounds, a part of me believes they truly wouldn’t.”

“How do ya think they kept it covered up so well?”

William clicks his tongue. “The Board is all powerful, Knox. They have many ways to be sure there are things that would never reach even my ears.”

“That’s so…” he shakes his head. “Don’t like it.”

“That makes two of us.”

“And you work for them?”

William sighs, “as a supervisor, Knox. I have no jurisdiction when it comes to the realm itself. All I am able to do is try to keep my subordinates in, at least, decent working conditions.”

Ronald slowly nods, not intending to have put William on the spot as he did. So he straightens his back and opens the bedside drawer, taking out the riddle he found last night. “Then let’s get to business, right? The quicker we get outta here, the quicker we can figure out what the hell this place is actually about.” he says, offering the paper to William.

William nods in agreement, taking the paper. “Agreed.” He adjusts his glasses once, pushing them up further on his nose as he reads the riddle himself, humming thoughtfully when he finishes. “‘A pen that writes in the colour of crimson’. I’m assuming this means it’s a pen that writes with red ink.”

“Okay.” Ronald sits next to him, shoulder to shoulder as he re-reads the riddle himself. “What’s that mean for us then? Why’s it matter what kinda ink a pen uses?”

“Traditionally, writing someone’s name in red ink used to be reserved for the names of the deceased. Thus writing a living person's name with the same colour invites death upon them.”

Ronald blinks. “Right. Okay.” he scratches the side of his neck. “Still don’t get how that correlates with a ‘shard of glass as sharp as a blade’.”

“Hm. Well, sharp as a balde. Death.”

“Death.” Ronald repeats. “So, that’s what they have in common? Death? How’s that supposed to help us? Not like we can find ‘room death’ with that key, right?”

“Room death. Now hold on. In Japanese, there are two ways to pronounce the word ‘four’. Yon and shi. Generally, yon is preferred because the word shi means death.”

Ronald just stares at him. “That’s…interesting. So if it wants us to think of the word four, what’s the shard of glass have to do with anything?” the moment he says that, something clicks. “Wait, if we’re talking about numbers, then when I think of a shard of glass, I think of a broken mirror, and a broken mirror gives you seven years of bad luck!”

“That could very well be it.”

“Ha! So forty seven then! Er, wait.” his enthusiasm quickly dies. “Doubt this place has forty floors to begin with.”

William flashes a very brief smile, one that’s clearly amused by Ronald’s youthful excitement but Ronald catches it and his shoulders slump just a bit as he realises just how much even the cursory of smiles made him feel. “Perhaps not forty seven, but four-o-seven seems like a more manageable number.” he folds the riddle back up, storing it in his pocket, “however none of this does us any good when he we can’t reach the fourth floor with the barricade in the stairwell.”

“Well, there’s always the lift? I think it’s stuck on our floor.”

William takes a deep breath, closing his eyes as he adjusts his glasses, as if he’s mentally preparing himself for another gruelling day. “Then I suppose we’d best see if we can find a way into this lift.” he rolls his shoulders, hoping he can avoid taking his painkillers today. He’s running a little low; not enough to worry, but enough that he wants to try rationing them as much as possible. “Right, let’s go. Maybe you’re onto something Knox.” Ronald desperately hopes he is, wanting nothing more than to get back into William’s good graces. William hasn’t outright said anything but the younger reaper can still feel a subtle rift between them, one that tells him William didn’t forget what he said last night.

Unfortunately, when they reach the lift, the doors are shut tight. William absently pats around, even tries to pry them open but he has no luck. With a frustrated grunt, he stands back, hands on his hips and a disgruntled look on his face. “Blast.”

Ronald groans, shoulders slumping. “Well, there goes that idea.” he glares at the lift as if his searing gaze could force the doors open but the lift is an inanimate object and he does not possess the same glowering power that William does. “What are the odds pressing the button will do anything?” he half-jokes, slamming his fist into the up button. To both his and William’s surprise, the doors shutter open. They stutter and screech as metal grinds against metal, but soon enough, the doors part to reveal the inside of a very old lift. “Oh.”

“Hm.” William cups the back of his neck, clearly perplexed. “I thought the power was out?”

“Yeah…so did I.” Ronald agrees. “Then again, the light in the bedroom works, right?”

“I suppose that’s true, but the lights don’t work anywhere else.” he shakes his head, realising there’s no point in trying to make sense of this place. “Another mystery for another time. For now, let’s see if it’ll take us where we want to go.” Ronald tries to remain as close as possible to William without touching him, slipping into the lift the moment William steps inside. However, one look at the buttons, tells them this plan wouldn’t work anyway. The panel has several missing buttons while others are scratched beyond recognition and, of course, the button for the floor they need is one of the missing ones. “Bollocks.” William hisses under his breath. “Of course.”

“Maybe we can work on moving that blockade?” Ronald suggests. “Wouldn’t be too bad with the two of us, right?”

“I suppose not, no, I just worry I won’t be able to help as much as I could.”

Ronald grins and nudges his shoulder against William’s, “aw c’mon old man, you can do it. It’ll be easy when you got a sprightful young lad to help!”

For a moment, Ronald worries his jovial attitude isn’t wanted as William gives him a deadpan stare but once again, there’s that brief smile that makes the rock in his stomach even heavier. “I am not old, thank you but I suppose that’s our only option left.”

William steps out from the lift but just as Ronald barely takes an inch out after him, the lift doors slam shut. Hearing the horrible noise and Ronald’s shocked shout of surprise forces William to turn around and barely, just barely, he’s able to grab the edge of one of the doors, straining with more force than he should need to keep it open only by a crack. “Knox!”

Ronald tries to help William pull open the door, but the light above him flickers before shattering, the sudden crash of glass taking him by surprise. He reacts instinctually, cowering away from the falling shards. “Shit.”

William’s footing slips as he tries to hold the door open, his grip weakening. In a last ditch attempt to give Ronald something to help, he quickly reaches into his pocket and tosses his phone into the lift before his grip finally gives out. The door slams shut with a deafening clang. “Ronald?!” he pants, feeling the ache in his back already.

“I’m okay!” Ronald reassures him from the other side of the door, crouching down to feel around for William’s phone. He manages to avoid most of the small glass shards before finding the phone and switching on the torch. While not the best source of light, it’s enough to illuminate the dark, confined, space. “Do you see a way to get me out!?”

“Unfortunately no!” William shouts back, trying desperately to pry the door's apart, but there’s barely any space for his fingers to gain leverage. “Perhaps I can find the power source.”

“Without light?!”

“It’s an idea! Or would you rather be trapped in a lift for the rest of your life?!”

A pause. “Yeah…yeah actually good idea!”

William rolls his eyes, “then I’ll–” Before he can finish, a new, unsettling sound fills the air. Both of them hear metal creaking under strain. Ronald freezes, and William’s eyes dart upward, desperately trying to see where the noise is coming from. In an instant, something snaps, and the lift lurches, plunging downwards. “Ronald!”

Ronald’s tossed off his feet, the metal scraping violently against the shaft walls as the lift rockets downward, before suddenly coming to a complete stop. He’s thrown hard towards the floor, groaning as tiny shards of glass embed into his hand. The light from William’s phone flickers and dims. His other hand reaches for the phone, frowning when the lock screen lights up just long enough for him to see the screen is completely cracked. William’s going to kill him. He knows that for sure.

Gingerly, he pushes himself up onto his knees, wondering just how far the lift has fallen. It’s eerily quiet now, the only sound is the occasional creaking of metal. He takes the brief moment to breathe, scanning the small, dimly lit space, hoping to spot a way out. Thankfully, the lift has a hatch on top of it. Maybe, if he can open it and climb into the cab's ceiling, he might be able to reach a floor that William could open. The lobby doors had been ajar when he last saw them, so perhaps he can get lucky and reach that floor. He looks down at the glass still embedded in his hand and doubts his chances of climbing anything.

Then, the creaking metal turns into something far more horrifying. Right behind the doors, he hears the sickening crack and creak of bone from twisted joints, the low, vibrating sound of what almost sounds like a voice, but twisted, gurgling from a throat turned the wrong way round. Nailless fingers pound against the doors, the sound reverberating through the entire lift. He suddenly doesn’t care about the glass in his hand. With a jolt of adrenaline, he forces himself back to his feet, jumping for the hatch–just barely missing it. The force of his landing causes the lift to jolt an inch further downward, nearly knocking him off his feet again. But it also shifts the angle of the lift. The pounding on the metal doors continues, his heart hammering in his chest.

Using the new angle, he tries again, leaping up and managing to punch the hatch open but the impact when he lands causes the lift to drop even further, the sound of its descent making his stomach lurch. He sees the metal doors begin to quiver as though something behind them is trying to force them open. With no time to lose, he pockets William’s phone and wastes no more seconds. A third leap–this time, his fingers catch the lip of the hatch. He pulls himself upward, the shards of glass in his hand digging deeper into his skin with each movement. “Ronald!”

Ronald’s heart nearly bursts from his chest when he sees William only a couple of feet above him. That has to be the lobby, as William pushes open the doors wider to allow him access to the lift’s shaft. “Sir! I…I…”

“Can you reach my hand?” William asks, bending down to offer it. Ronald stretches upwards, pushing himself onto his tiptoes but his fingers just graze the tips of William’s. “Damn it.” the older man curses. “Can you jump?” Ronald almost tries, but the moment he hears the metal doors inside the cab being forced open, he freezes in place. “Knox!”

He obeys, leaping from the top of the cab but as soon as William grabs his hand, pain shoots through his own, dragging a sharp yelp of pain from his throat and he lets go, forcing William to drop him. Ronald lands back on the cab, causing it to wobble dangerously. He clutches his hand, tears stinging his eyes. “I-I’m sorry!”

“There’s no time to apologise!” William shouts, his voice full of urgency. “Use your other hand and try again!” William lies down flat, stretching his arm out as far as he possibly can.

He squeezes his eyes shut and jumps one more time, reaching with his less dominant hand. William’s grip is iron this time, his other hand snapping around Ronald’s wrist, locking them together in a vice. 

And then–the cab gives.

Both of them watch in horrified silence as it plummets, crashing down the shaft with a deafening roar, disappearing from their sight. The sparks of grinding metal are the only indication of just how deep the shaft goes, until the sickening crash of the cab hitting the bottom vibrates through the ground beneath them.

Ronald stares down into the void where he’d just been, heart pounding, adrenaline still coursing through him. William doesn’t breathe a sigh of relief–not yet. His eyes flick to the now empty space where the lift had been, then he yanks Ronald up in one final, forceful heave, ignoring the sharp flare of pain that lances down his spine.

Ronald scrambles forward, desperate to be on solid ground, away from the gaping, open doors. Before William can even check on him or see what’s wrong with his hand, Ronald throws himself at him, tackling him in a hug so tight, it knocks the breath from William’s lungs. 

William stiffens at first, surprised by the sudden display of affection, but Ronald doesn’t let go. Slowly, cautiously, William raises his arms, pulling him into an embrace just as firmly, just as firmly as Ronald is holding onto him. There’s something right about it, a comfort in the chaos, and neither of them pulls away. 

Eventually, William tries to, at least, just enough to check on Ronald but Ronald’s arms are still locked tightly around his neck. “Ronald?” William asks carefully. “Are you…alright?” Ronald mumbles something into William’s shoulder. “Pardon?” He tries to lean back a bit for a clear response but Ronald’s face remains pressed into him and his reply is still incoherent. “Knox, I can’t understand you.” William says gently, concern evident, “Kn–”

“I’m sorry!” Ronald blurts out, throwing himself off William. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…” he whimpers, pressing his trembling hand tightly against his chest as if trying to hold himself together.

William raises an eyebrow, confused by the sudden outburst. “Sorry? What for? Let me see your hand.”

Ronald looks down, guilt washing over his face. His eyes flicker briefly to William’s before directing them at his pocket as he slides out William’s broken phone, presenting it with a sense of shame. The screen is shattered, jagged cracks spidering across the surface. “I-I broke your phone…”

William takes the phone, his eyes still fixed on Ronald, wondering why the hell would Ronald think he was at all worried about something so materialistic. “It’s a phone, Knox. Why would I be more concerned about something I can easily replace?” he holds out his hand, “now let me look.”

Ronald shakes his head quickly, his face pale. “It’s fine…”

“Knox.” William’s voice is sharper, more commanding. “Let me look.”

Ronald flinches at the tone, his body tensing but after a brief pause, he relents, extending his injured hand. William takes it gently, his fingers brushing over the raw skin. He examines the shards of glass embedded in Ronald’s palm, blood slowly trickling down from the wounds. “Surely there’s tweezers around her. Getting these out with our bare fingers would prove tricky otherwise.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

William’s eyes snap up to meet Ronald’s, disbelief creeping into his expression. “And who says it doesn’t?”

“I do.”

“Why doesn’t it matter?”

Ronald’s voice drops lower, quieter, like if he spoke too loud, he’d be yelled at. “Because I broke your phone. It’s my punishment.”

William’s realising now that this experience has somehow triggered something from Ronald’s past, something that makes him think being in pain, being physically punished, is a good trade off for breaking something that doesn’t belong to him. From what Ronald told him about his past, he wouldn’t be surprised if something similar happened before. “Well, it does matter Ronald.”

“Why? It’s a fitting punishment, isn’t it?”

Ronald’s head hangs low, William’s silence leaving Ronald to assume he’s thinking of ways to match the physical punishment with a verbal one. When William speaks next, he’s scared of how right he was. “You’re right. It is.”

Ronald slowly lifts his head, his eyes wide and starting to water. “It…is?”

“Of course it is. You broke something of mine–something expensive, I might add and you think there’d be no repercussions? That this,” he gestures to Ronald’s hand, “is enough? Do you realise how important my phone could have been for us? It was our only lifeline to the outside world and you’ve destroyed it.” William’s gaze narrows into a glare that cuts straight through him. “No wonder your mother never liked you. Breaking things that don’t belong to you, playing with people’s feelings the way you did. You didn’t deserve the food she gave you or a place in her home. Frankly, I wouldn’t be surprised if she was glad you were gone. If everyone is glad you’re gone.”

His lip begins quivering, emotions that were bottled up, now breaking free. “I-I’m sorry…”

“Sorry isn’t good enough. If you want to apologise, then get out of my sight.” William scoffs, ire in his voice. “Of course I’m the unlucky one stuck with you.”

“Sir, I–”

“Leave!”

William is thrown completely off balance as Ronald rips his hand away and bolts from the hotel, barreling through the doors. For a moment, William’s too stunned to move.

What just happened?

Snapping himself out of it, he finds the strength to push himself to his feet, rushing out into the streets after Ronald–the town’s swallowed by that thick fog again. He doesn’t see Ronald at all. “Ronald!” he calls out, hoping beyond reason that Ronald will answer and return to him, but this place isn’t that kind. “Where the hell did you go?” As far as he was aware, all he wanted was to understand what happened in the lift but the younger reaper’s responses were strange, almost like he’d been talking to someone else.

“Hey.” William spins around, not quite sure what to expect, but seeing the boy from the diner was not it. He’s standing a few feet away, barely visible through the thick fog. He’s cautious, eyes wide and terrified as he watches William with apprehension. William isn’t exactly great with children, which probably comes as a shock to no one, but he doesn’t despise them either. Quite the opposite, fate just decided he wasn’t worthy of having one of his own. 

Slowly, he raises his palms and kneels down in an attempt to appear less threatening to the child. “Hello,” he says calmly. “My name is William.” the boy stays where he stands but William spots a hint of trust in his eyes. “I don’t want to hurt you. In fact, quite the opposite. I want to help.” he lowers his hands, resting them on his thighs as he sits back on his haunches. “Can you help me learn more about this place?”

“It’s home.”

“This place is your home?” the child nods. “Interesting.” he says to himself, “can you tell me your name?” the boy shakes his head. “Why not?”

“Not supposed to talk to strangers…”

William offers the child a gentle smile. “That’s a very good lesson to follow. Some strangers can be very scary, especially for someone your age.” he pauses, considering his next question, “then, have you seen my companion run past you?” the boy nods and William breathes a sigh of relief. “Do you know where he’s gone? Can you show me?”

The boy points down the street. “Hospital.”

“Hospital?” William repeats, looking where the child was pointing. Well, that’s a good place to start looking for supplies at least, but how did Ronald know which way to run? “Thank you young man.” William says, getting back to his feet. “Are you lost? Or hurt?” the boy shakes his head again. Despite this, William doesn’t feel good about leaving the child to wander these empty streets alone. “Why don’t you let me help you find your parents? Your mother or your–” before he can finish, the child’s expression shifts to one of horror and in an instant, he’s gone, swallowed by the fog. William stands still for a few seconds, letting that interaction process before he shakes his head, knowing he needs to focus on finding Ronald. He sprints down the direction the boy pointed; the fog brings a cold that bites at his skin and a wind that whips through his hair. His breaths come in sharp bursts, the aching throb in his back getting worse but he can’t stop. He won’t stop. “Ronald!”

“Spears…?”

William skids to a halt, his pulse stuttering. That voice…Eric? He swears he just heard Eric as if the man was standing right beside him except he’s clearly not. He can even small the faintest trace of Eric’s cologne, the one Eric always wore during his shifts. “Eric…?” Silence. Nothing moves. Not even a shadow stirs in the fog. William exhales sharply. No. He won’t let this place get to him. The town is playing tricks, feeding him delusions. He needs to focus on Ronald.

He starts running again, shoes striking the pavement. Despite it now being easier to see, the fog feels denser, heavier, clinging to him like it was a living thing. Then something falls. A dull thunk against the ground. William stops glancing over his shoulder. His phone. It must have slipped from his pocket when he hastily shoved it there in his rush to chase after Ronald. With a small frown, he bends to pick it up–he blinks and his fingers close around a rock. He stares at it in confusion, “what…?” his gaze darts back to the ground; his phone is gone.

Slowly, he clenches his fist around the rock then hurls it away, anger boiling beneath his skin. The stone clatters somewhere out of sight; he doesn’t have time for this. William turns and keeps moving. The hospital. There’s where the boy said Ronald was headed. If William sticks to the main road, he knows he’ll find it soon enough.

He passes a butchers shop, its display window eerily vacant, a convenience store with shelves barely visible through the dust-caked glass, a funeral parlour with its old ornate sign creaking softly in the wind and then, finally, he sees it. 

The hospital.

The moment his eyes lay sight on it, there’s a painful throbbing in the side of his head. He hisses through gritted teeth, pressing his hand to his temple before it subsides just as quickly as it came. He blinks a few times then shakes his head. He breathes in then out, ignoring the sudden headache to instead focus on the building in front of him. The red cross above the entrance stands start against the gray surroundings, the words HAVEN HOSPITAL printed beneath it in peeling letters. “Ronald. Are you really in there?” William mutters to himself. He can’t explain why, but something about the place sends a chill crawling down his spine, urging him to stay away. Everything about it screams to turn around, to keep walking, yet if this is where Ronald has run off to, he can’t afford to ignore it. He has to find the younger reaper, sort things out. Ronald had been upset, and as far as William knows, he hadn’t said anything that would make him run.

Shaking off the unease gnawing at him, William steps up to the hospital doors and pushes them open, unsurprised to find them unlocked. He casts one last glance outside, hoping for a glimpse of Ronald in the distance, but the street is empty. With a deep breath, he steps into the building, letting the doors close softly behind him.

********************

“What is this place?”

Callum’s eyes flick over to Eric before answering, his gaze scanning the broken cracked road ahead of them as they walk deeper into the desolate town. “An old place, abandoned for good reason.”

Eric spares a glance back at his truck, William’s car parked beside it. Callum was insistent that he could drive his son's car since there was nothing wrong with it and it had the fuel to drive home. It wasn’t like leaving it in the middle of the road would be a good idea either, though it still leaves Eric with questions as to why it was left abandoned. “Slingby?”

Eric snaps his attention back ahead of him when Callum calls his name, following the older reaper further in, admiring what was once a bustling town. Most of its buildings are nothing but rubble and the structures that remain standing are boarded up. “Ye don’t really think Ron and Will came through here, do ye?”

Callum doesn’t stop walking and his voice is steady as he responds. “This was the same direction William’s car was facing. I have no doubt they must have come through here.”

“Ye know somethin’ about this place then? Ye said ‘good reason’, so, obviously ye gotta.” Eric remarks not liking that Callum may know something he doesn’t.

Callum only spares a fleeting glance back at him. “I take it the name Haven doesn’t mean anything to you?”

“No. Why? Should it?” Eric asks, brow furrowed in confusion. Callum doesn’t respond, ignoring him like he hadn’t asked any questions at all. He clearly does know more than he’s letting on but they’re on the same side, aren’t they? So why the secrecy? Why ask him something then refuse to answer when Eric poses a question of his own?

They walk in silence for a while, Eric keeping his eyes peeled for any sign of life. From the looks of things, no one lived here for decades, dare he even say, centuries and the eerie emptiness makes him uneasy. As far as he knew, it wasn’t just him who’d never heard of this place. No one had. There wasn’t a town or place in their realm that went unnoticed or undiscovered, there just wasn’t. The Board needed their eyes everywhere and with that, came everyone else’s, so to have this entire town he’s never heard of, yet Callum seems to, makes the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. “Ronald!”

Eric whips around so quickly, he almost throws himself off balance. That voice. It was William’s voice. It’s unmistakable, except, William’s very clearly not here. It’s just himself and Callum. “Spears…?” he asks into the emptiness. He takes a step forward, toward the direction he swore he heard William but as his foot hits the ground, something crunches beneath it. He pauses, carefully lifting his foot then bends down to pick up a mobile phone. The screen is cracked and the back is scratched to bits but it still works, even if the lock screen flickers intermittently. Could this…be William’s phone? It seemed far too coincidental to find it right after hearing the other man’s voice. “Will?”

“Eric.”

Callum’s the one to grab his attention again, the older man watching him with an expectant gaze. “Aye. Sorry.” Eric apologises, approaching the other reaper. “I…” he looks at the phone clutched tightly in his hand, “I found this and I think it might be Will’s.”

Callum takes the phone, turning it over in his hand. “How do you know that?”

“I know how it sounds, but I swear I heard Will’s voice just before I found it.” Eric explains, hoping Callum doesn’t think he’s making light of the situation.

“You…heard him?”

“Aye. I know how mad it sounds, but you have to believe me. I’m not lyin’ to you.”

Callum frowns, deep lines furrowing across his forehead. “I do believe you, which means we should leave. It still isn’t safe here.”

“What do you mean? What’s not safe about this place?” Eric demands, planting his feet firmly on the ground as Callum begins walking back toward the vehicles. “Oi! Give me some answers!”

Callum stops, letting out a heavy sigh before turning back around and walking toward Eric. He places a hand on Eric’s shoulder, his grip firm. “You remind me so much of your father, Eric.”

Eric’s heart skips a beat at those words. “You knew my da?”

Callum squeezes Eric’s shoulder affectionately before pulling away. “Before I answer any questions, we need to leave. Hearing William’s voice is a bad sign and I’d rather not risk this place knowing you’re here.”

“I don’t understand.” Eric admits, his confusion evident in his voice.

“You won’t, not until we leave here.” Callum turns and starts walking again, yanking Eric with him. “You want to get back to your partner, don’t you?”

“Aye, of course I do.”

“Then we need to leave.”

“But Will–”

“Do not question me, Eric.” Callum interrupts sharply, his tone turning cold. “We leave immediately.”

Eric is yanked along, his mind whirling with a new storm of questions. Wouldn’t Callum want to follow up on the lead to find his son? Wouldn’t he want to get to the bottom of this mystery sooner than later? Why is it so critical that the town doesn’t know he was here? Is the town alive? And how Callum phrased his words about returning to Alan, as if there wouldn't be a choice if they stayed any longer…the thought was unbearable, especially knowing how precious his time with his lover already is. He feels as if he's living on borrowed time with Alan, and now, even that could be slipping away.

Alan, however, is oblivious to the turmoil Eric was putting himself through. Instead, he’s focused on the disgruntled look Kimiko is giving their kitchen cupboards. After returning from William’s home, it felt like they were on neutral ground again, Alan not fearing that he may be hated or that he needs to keep up some illusion to hide his true identity from her. “I’m sorry none of it’s to your liking.” Alan says hesitantly, not quite sure what Kimiko was looking for.

Kimiko turns to him with a shake of her head, “no, no. I just see very little of it. William had an excuse, you do not. Look at you. You’re so small, Alan. You should eat more.”

Alan flushes, rubbing the back of his neck in embarrassment. He’s unsure what to say, unsure how to explain why he looks like he does, until he figures it’s best just to tell her, if for no other reason then as a precaution in case the thorns decide to act up. “I, well…remember when I told you I wasn’t feeling well back at William’s?” she nods, “that wasn’t a complete lie. I am…sick.” he forces the word out, hating how it sounds.

Kimiko’s expression softens. “You are? What’s wrong? Perhaps there’s something I could make that’ll help.”

Alan shakes his head, a sigh escaping him. “It’s not quite like that.” he mutters before taking a deep breath. “I’ve…been inflicted with the Thorns of Death.”

Kimiko’s hands immediately cover her mouth as shock flashes across her face. “Shi no toge?”

“Yes…” Alan says, a tremble in his voice. To his surprise, she pulls him into a warm hug, something he did not expect and he freezes in her arms. He’s so unused to such motherly affections that he’s not sure how to feel about her hug, but as she persists, he slowly lets himself indulge, wrapping his arms around her in turn and laying his head to her shoulder. It’s strange to think that at one point, this woman could have been his mother-in-law.

When she pulls away, Alan feels an overwhelming urge to pull her back for a longer hug but he forces himself to resist. Kimiko smiles kindly at him instead, her hands resting on his shoulders before turning back to the cabinets. “I’ll make you something to eat.”

“N-No! That’s fine, really! You’re the guest.” Alan protests as he pushes himself up. “I should–”

“Hush.” she places a finger to her lips, “there is nothing good food can’t cure. Do you have any favourites? A dish from your childhood perhaps?”

Alan slowly sits back down, feeling slightly relieved he won’t have to embarrass himself further in front of William’s mother. Cooking was never one of his strong suits–Eric’s the chef in their relationship, something that surprises many when they first learn of it. “A favourite childhood dish?” he repeats, knowing that’s not an easy question to answer. “Not…particularly.” he replies, a frown tugging at his lips. “I can’t say I had many favourites growing up.”

“You don’t? Why?”

Alan shifts uncomfortably in his seat, his fingers gripping the edge of the table as he looks down, finding it hard to voice his answer until he finally gathers the courage to tell her, “my parents stopped caring about me when…when they found out my...prefrences.” his voice grows quieter with each word, wanting to retreat into himself.

Even further to his surprise, Kimiko actually scoffs at that, the sound sharp in the quiet kitchen. She turns back to the counter and sets to work, “then I will cook you something warm and healing from William’s childhood.”

Alan feels his cheeks heat up, the warmth soon consuming his entire face. This is William’s mother? The woman who hunted down demons on her own? The one with a reputation for strength and discipline? She wasn’t what he expected at all but then again, neither was William. Under that cold, seemingly unbreakable shell, was a kind, soft spoken man who cared deeply for those he allowed close to him…until he returned to his unhealthy habits of putting work before everything. He quickly shakes his head at that, focusing on the present instead. There had been a question that was on his mind. “Forgive me for asking, but when you heard William was dating, well, me, were you put off by it?”

Kimiko hums as she selects the pot and utensils. She doesn’t look at him, but her soft sigh speaks volumes. “I will admit, Callum and I were wary of his choice of partner at first. It bothered us even more when we were told about you through a letter then a call, but his wording was rather sincere. Truthfully, I was disappointed because I wanted grandchildren someday and I worried he’d chosen you as a partner to avoid any mention of them, but he has promised me, one day, he will make me a grandmother.” she sighs again, this time it sounds more melancholic, “he’s yet to make good on that promise.”

Alan swallows, knowing he may be the reason for that. “Probably because he doesn’t have a partner anymore.”

The air between them suddenly shifts and Kimiko glances at him over her shoulder. “Did you ever want children?”

Alan blinks at her question, looking down at the table with his hands nervously clasped together. “At one point, I did. I didn’t think I’d make a tremendous father, but I would have tried my best. But…well, with the thorns, they make family planning a little more complicated. I don’t want to leave Eric all on his own to raise a child I promised I would be there for.”

A solemn expression washes over Kimiko’s face. “Ah yes. That’s right. I apologise.”

“It’s, fine. It’s fine.” She flashes him an apologetic look before continuing to prepare dinner and soon enough, she places a steaming bowl of what Alan assumes is some kind of pudding in front of him. The aroma fills the room is earthy and slightly nutty. Alan inhales deeply, already taken in by the scent. “It smells wonderful.” he says with genuine appreciation. “What do you call this?”

“Okayu.” she replies, taking a seat in the chair across from him. “It’s a wonderful dish to eat when you’re feeling ill and while I understand the shi no toge are not your typical illness, I figured this might help on a more emotional level. Usually, I’d top it with umeboshi, a sweet pickled plum, but as that was not available to me, I used eggs instead.”

Alan smiles at her, touched that she went through the effort to make something for him. “Well, it looks delicious. Thank you Mrs. Spears. I really do appreciate this.”

Kimiko waves her hand dismissively. “Please Alan, you’ve been told to call us by our first names. There is no need to be so formal.”

He nods, his smile reaching his eyes for once. “Then thank you, Kimiko.”

Alan gets about two bites into the dish before the front door opens and Eric enters the kitchen shortly after, Callum right behind him. “Ah good, you’re back.” Kimiko says, looking up to her husband. “I’ve made dinner for all of us. Please, sit and eat.”

“Hold on.” Eric tells her, flashing an apologetic smile, “I appreciate that ye made dinner but I found somethin’ that I’m pretty sure belonged to Will.” he holds up the broken phone. “Ye’d know more than me hen, does this look like his?”

Alan takes the phone, staring at it with something akin to horror and disbelief mixing in his stomach. “It…it is. This is his.”

Kimiko swallows, clearly unwilling to believe her son may be in any type of danger. “How are you so sure?”

“It’s the lock screen picture. He’s had it ever since we were together. It was taken during our vacation to Ireland, when the sunrise was perfectly cresting and it created this beautiful orange, pink and red reflection across the pond.”

“So that is William’s phone then?” Callum confirms.

“Yes.”

Kimiko immediately takes her husband's hand. “I…I hope he’s not in any danger.”

“I wish we knew for sure, lass.” Eric agrees, glancing back at Alan. “Ye wouldn’t happen to know the passcode either, would you?”

Alan thinks on it for a moment before carefully navigating the lock screen, manoeuvring between the cracks. He used to know what William’s code was and though he suspected William would have changed it by now, he inputs the code that he knows and his heart sinks when it’s right. “He hasn’t changed it…”

“What is it?” Callum asks, running his hand up and down Kimiko’s back.

“It was the date of our first anniversary.” Alan answers. “He kept it the same after all this time.” he forces himself to ignore the lump in his throat and begins searching through Wiliam’s phone. There doesn’t seem to be anything out of place, but Alan does find it odd there are outgoing calls to Eric, even a few to Callum. “Eric, phone.” he demands, holding out his palm. Eric obeys without question, passing his phone to his husband who quickly checks the call list. Strangely, there’s no record of these calls on Eric’s phone, missed or otherwise. “Odd…”

“What is it?” Kimiko asks, worry clear in her voice.

“William tried to call you Eric, but your phone doesn’t show any of these calls.”

“Not a single one?”

“No.” Alan replies, “there’s one to me and even Grell,” he then points to the last call William made, “there’s one to you as well, Mr. Spears.”

“Me?” Callum takes out his own phone and checks the call history. Other than the first call from William, there’s no other missed calls from his son. “How strange. Then, William must have wanted someone to know where he was. If, hypothetically, this was a final goodbye, he wouldn’t have tried so hard to reach out.”

“Callum.” Kimiko frowns. “I’m ashamed you still believe he would.”

“I had good reason to think so.” Callum replies, almost sounding defensive. “We found his car, Kimiko. Abandoned, with the keys and his suitcase inside. Tell me that doesn’t sound suspicious.”

“You found his car?!” Kimiko gasps, full on worry now setting in.

Callum sighs. “Yes. I drove it here, don’t worry. It’s not stuck in the middle of the road, but he had left it behind and everything in it.”

Kimiko looks like she’s about to keel over. She closes her eyes, takes a few deep breaths, then focuses on her husband again. “Alright yes, that is suspicious, but if you’re intent on believing our son is dead somewhere, then I want you to keep that to yourself. I will continue to hold out hope that he’s alive and trying to find his way home.”

Eric looks at Callum’s stoic face then to Kimiko. He feels like Callum won’t say anything, so he will. He puts his hand on Alan’s shoulder and states, “I found it in this abandoned town. Don’t know what that place was, or is, but Callum, you seemed to know exactly what it was.”

“Callum?” Kimiko asks almost too innocently.

Callum almost glares at Eric before he decides it’d be best to tell his wife the truth. “I’m afraid the place William and their friend are lost in, is Haven.”

The horror on Kimiko’s face is blended with disgust. “Haven…? As in, the same place that…?” her eyes flick to Eric.

“The very same place.”

“What the hell do ye two know?” Eric demands, voice rising. “Callum mentioned he knew my da, but how? How?! Both him and my mum have been dead for decades now.”

Kimiko stands next to Callum, her eyes growing soft as they continue to look at Eric. “Your father and Callum were very good friends. He was the one to introduce Callum and I. Although, I didn’t know your mother very well, but she was a beautiful, lovely woman with a warm heart. When Callum and I learned they were going to make a new life for themselves in Haven, we wished them nothing but the best.”

“But that was before we knew what Haven truly was.” Callum continues, his voice steady, but heavy with a truth that they’ve both carried for so long. “We assumed it was like any other town, but we were wrong. That place is nothing but an infestation in our realm, a place that taints everything it touches. There’s blood soaked in that soil, bodies left to decay at the bottom of the lake.”

Alan swallows, putting William’s phone down before he accidentally crushes it in his hand. “Why have we never heard of this place?”

“Because it was destroyed such a long time ago. By what, or who, we don’t know.” Kimiko answers, a sadness lingering in her tone. “Your parents, Eric, were not fully aware of the clause they signed when they moved there, a clause that stated on your tenth birthday…”

“You were to be killed. You were to be a sacrifice.” Callum finishes.

“Sacrifice.” Alan whispers as Eric’s hand tightens on his shoulder.

His mouth runs dry. “I…I was gonna be…?”

“You were, yes, but your parents both agreed to leave Haven to spare you, but you know what happened afterwards. Shortly after they fled with you, they were killed, but by whom? That’s still unknown, even to us.” Callum further explains and Eric sees regret in the older man’s eyes. “Kimiko and I tried contacting you when we heard of their passing, but we couldn’t get through to you. For a very long time, we assumed you were dead as well.”

Eric stares at them, mind racing, struggling to take in all this new information. “Why don’t I remember any of this? Remember Haven?”

“We can’t say.” Kimiko responds, “we don’t know.”

“And William and Ronald may be trapped there?” Alan asks.

“Yes.” Kimiko’s hands tighten together, knuckles white with the force of the grip. “If my son does not come back from that place, I will burn it to the ground again in order to bring him home.” Alan and Eric share a look, one that conveys everything they are both feeling: confusion, fear, and a haunting realization. A few questions have been answered, but in their place, many, many more have opened up, leaving them with more uncertainty than ever before.

Chapter Text

The hospital doors shut behind him, leaving him mostly obscured by darkness. What should have been no challenge for a reaper, he now faces the same struggle Ronald did as he stares into the depths without any sort of light to break through the opaque blackness. He looks down at his hand, lamenting the fact the only object that could have helped had magically turned to stone. Or at least, vanished from his realm of existence, if that was even possible. Still, this is where that child claimed Ronald was headed. Whether he believed said child or not, he can’t say, but it’s the best lead he has given that Ronald was swallowed by the fog that, once again, consumed the town. “Ronald?!” he calls, his voice echoing eerily through the abandoned building. As expected, no reply.

He makes his way to the front desk where the weak light filtering in through the windows at the front of the hospital provides just enough illumination to see. As he’s come to expect of this place, the desk is a chaotic mess of haphazardly scattered papers, yellowed with age and faded with time. The best he can make out from one of the files is a patient with a high fever.

He moves around the desk, starting to rifle through the drawers, which at first, leave him with nothing but what he expected to find: more papers, stationary, even a group photo of doctors standing in front of the hospital.

Nearly about to give up, he opens the last drawer and to his shock, he finds a torch just sitting there. It's dusty and when he picks it up, he finds the button is a little stuck, but when he eventually hears that satisfying ‘click’, a beam of light instantly cuts through the dark. “Brilliant.” he mutters to himself, shining the light down the right hallway. Despite how much easier it is to see where he will wander, the entire building continues to fill him with dread. Still, he sucks in a deep breath and forces himself to continue forward, on high alert for anything lurking in the darker shadows.

The path he walks feels far more intimate than anything he’s experienced so far. It’s like each step is igniting some sort of sensor in his brain that’s telling him…well, that’s the problem. He’s not sure what it’s telling him. Is it to be even more cautious? Is it to turn around right now and never look back? Is it worry for Ronald’s safety? All of the above? He steels himself, knowing that no matter what he feels or what will happen, he will not leave this hospital without Ronald. Alive or dead.

As he walks, he shines the light through the window of each door he passes, peering through them while trying each handle. All are locked, unsurprisingly. Occasionally, he calls out for Ronald when he doesn’t fear he’ll have something else answer but so far, he’s beginning to think trusting that boy may have led him to a dead end. Who even was that boy? Someone as young as him shouldn’t be able to survive in such a place, especially as unscathed as he appeared to be. So then, another thought arises. If the child were a product of this town, then who–or what–was he? Was he a ghost? A lingering memory? Or something even stranger?

The next doorknob he tries twists unexpectedly. Even he’s surprised how easily the door opens once he’s pushed on it but the room it opens too is like all the others–abonded, decayed–except for one thing. As he shines the light over the bed, there’s an obvious bloodstain that runs lengthwise over the medical sheets. He stares at it, feeling that horrible throbbing in his temple return. He presses the heel of his hand to it, trying to ease the pain away but only when he looks away from the bed, does it subside even a little.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

The sudden sound catches him off guard, the rhythm coming from the supposedly inactive heart monitor is sharp and insistent right next to his ear. He flicks the light toward the device, but there’s no sign of it being on, and yet, the beeping continues as if attached to a person. He searches the area around the device, baffled as nothing in this building should be working and then, the pattern changes. The steady beeping flat lines for a brief moment before picking up again, only to flatline after another few beeps. The cycle repeats, a rhythm that’s strangely methodical. It’s only then that it clicks: is this morse code? Almost like it was telling him ‘yes’ the beeping starts up again, repeating the sequence from the start. He needs to write this down, he needs to find a pen and paper–the front desk!

Hestating, he lingers by the monitor, not wanting to leave in case the strange rhythm stops once he’s gone but with no way of interpreting it, and nothing to record it with, he decides it was better to try and fail, then to not try at all.

He sprints back to the desk, scrounging around for a pen and grabs one of the old papers. There’s urgency in his movements, knowing exactly what he needs to do clear in his head but as he turns to hurry back to the room, a cold chill creeps up his spine.

Something isn’t right.

Slowly, he turns around, shining the light down the opposite hallway. There, formed from the shadows, is something darker, something that seems to absorb the very light from his torch. The beam flickers, dimming to nothing before the light cuts out entirely. He smacks the torch against his palm, willing it to come back to life. When it does, the beam briefly illuminates the shadow again, only to go dark once more.

William scowls, his patience already thin from all that’s already happened in this hellhole. “You think you can scare me?” he taunts, voice filled with annoyance. “Well, you’re sorely mistaken. You’re a demon then? Hiding in the walls and cursing this town?” he steps forward, his voice rising in defiance. “Come out of your shadows. Show me your true form and let's see what you’re really made of.” there’s no response. The shadow remains still, unmoving, a dark blot against the already darker corridor behind it. William’s irritation grows. “Pathetic.” he snaps. “If you’re just going to hide like some coward, then fine, but know this. Your petty attempts at intimidation won’t work on me. I’ve faced your kind countless times and you’re all the same, vile, bloodthirsty creatures that can’t even think for themselves.” he continues, his words sharp and coloured by disdain, when suddenly, the hospital lights burst to life.

The sudden brightness blinds him and he blinks rapidly to clear the spots from his vision. As his sight returns, he sees the shadow still remains, not even affected by the harsh fluorescent lights. It’s a taunt toward him, telling him that nothing he could say, or do, would shield him from this creature.

Right at that moment, William knows this thing is no demon. It’s, somehow, something worse.

And it takes a step forward.

The light above it shatters instantly, a sharp crack echoing through the stillness of the hall. William stands his ground, willing to prove he is not a force to be reckoned with either. With every step the shadow takes towards him, another light shatters, casting him further into darkness, yet he doesn’t flinch, unwilling to show any fear. What he fails to remember, is that he has no weapon to defend himself with. The moment the shadow takes another step, his next reaction is to summon his scythe but nothing happens. He stares dumbly at his empty hand–reaching the realm in this town, is impossible. “Blast.”

Then from within the shadows, low distorted whispers rise. They start as small murmurs but grow louder with each step of the shadow.

"You aren’t good enough."

"You’ve failed me."

"What son are you?"

"The Board will replace you."

"You mean nothing to everyone."

"You didn’t try hard enough."

"Weak. Useless."

"You disappoint us."

"You’re pitiful."

"You should have gone through with it."

Each voice is a blade to his mind, each word a fresh wound. He knows them all, regnises every last one. The weight of their words drag him down, each accusation, each condemnation adding to the crushing pressure in his chest. He shuts his eyes tight, trying to block them out but the voices grow louder, more persistent, echoing in every corner of his mind. His hands instinctively press against his ears, but the sounds only intensify. The darkness around him starts closing in, suffocating him under the weight of their whispers–“Hey.”

It stops. Everything suddenly just…stops. It’s so quiet now, William staying motionless, still on his knees, breathing heavily, confused. Slowly, he lowers his hands from his ears and opens his eyes. Kneeling in front of him is the same child he’s seen twice before. The boy’s small hands are overlapping his own and William can’t help but stare. He’s stunned, struggling to comprehend what just happened. The voices, and the shadow, are completely gone. “You…stopped it?” he breathes out, the words mixed with disbelief and gratitude. The boy nods, his expression still wary but he seems less guarded than before. He removes his hands from William’s, his gaze never leaving him, however. “Thank you.” William says, his voice trembling just the slightest before he swallows what was left of that weakness. “Do you know what that…thing was?” the boy remains silent. William sighs, frustration creeping back up on him. “Right…right.” he mutters, shaking his head as he tries to collect himself. He takes a deep breath, forcing himself back to his feet, his hands trembling as he picks up the torch he dropped. “Do you…have a name?”

He doesn’t expect a response, so when one comes, it catches him off guard. “Oliver.”

“Oliver.” William repeats, cautiously eyeing the boy that's standing just a little too still for comfort. “Well, thank you Oliver. I…” William falters, unsure of what to really say. The thought of what might have happened if the boy had not intervened is one he doesn’t want to entertain, so he quickly shifts topics. “What are you? You can’t possibly be a real child, thus are you some sort of ghost? I don’t quite understand how spirits work, as in my line of work, we’re meant to collect the souls of the dead, so none of this should be possible.” Oliver offers no answer, he only lets the silence stretch between them leaving William more exasperated then he was. “As I should have expected.” he sighs deeply. “Then, are you willing to join me? I may need your help again.” Oliver nods and a quiet understanding forms between them, a shared resolve that gives William some comfort. “You told me my companion came here, yes?” William continues, “do you know if he’s still here?”

“He is.” Oliver replies.

William nods in answer to that, “then we best find him.” he smacks the torch against his palm again, forcing it to flicker back to life before regathering the pen and paper. With the light leading the way again, he returns to the hospital room with Oliver right behind him. To his relief, the heart monitor continues beeping. He sets the torch on the bed, waiting for the pattern to restart before scribbling down the sequence as it begins again.

- .... . / ..-. .. .-. ... - / .-.. . - - . .-. / .. ... / -.-

He looks at the dots and dashes he’s written down, frowning in through. He doesn’t know what this could mean, or if it means anything at all. The monitor, as if it knew he’d gathered the information he needed from it, goes silent once again. William gives the device one last glance before turning the paper toward Oliver. “You wouldn’t happen to know what this means, would you?” Oliver shakes his head. William clicks his tongue. “As I thought, but it wouldn’t have hurt to ask.” He folds up the paper and stores it in the pocket of his blazer before taking up the torch again. Believing there was nothing else of use in this room, he turns to leave only for Oliver to tug at his sleeve.

William looks down and the boy points to the foot of the bed. William shines the light where Oliver is indicating and his eyes narrow as he sees a medical chart hanging from the foot of the bed–something he’d missed earlier. He picks up the chart, but there’s really not that much on it, save why the person was admitted: spinal injury. A part of him suddenly feels cold, like there’s someone breathing down his neck while another part of him realises how improbable the thought that popped into his head is. “Hm.” he puts the chart back, rubbing the back of his neck before looking down at Oliver. Why did the boy want him to see that? “We need to find Ronald.” he says, reminding Oliver what their main goal of exploring this damn place was meant to be. Oliver just nods.

With the torch securely in his hand, William continues to lead the way through the old building, continuing to shine the light into each room they pass. He still doesn’t understand why Ronald ran off like he did; frightened, apologising, speaking as if he were conversing with someone else. Could that have been the case? Was Ronald, somehow, talking to someone else? Who though? And how? As far as he could tell, he was the only one there but after everything they’d experienced so far, William isn’t so sure. Perhaps manipulation of the mind was at play. After all, anything felt possible in this place. “Ronald!” he calls out one more time in hope he’ll get an answer, yet still, there’s nothing. His heart sinks a little. Would Ronald even respond? If the younger reaper is hearing someone else, would he trust it was really William trying to find him?

Just as he’s about to call out again, Oliver speaks, “near.”

William looks down at the child. “Ronald is near?” Oliver nods, staring straight ahead. “Do you know where exactly?” Oliver suddenly takes off running down the hall, startling William. He quickly chases after the boy.

Eventually, Oliver leads him to a room that appears to be the examination room and there, sitting on the bed with his back facing the door, is Ronald. William wastes no time in throwing open that door, relief washing over him. “Knox! Bloody hell, finally. I was worried about you.” the younger reaper doesn’t respond. He’s hunched over, his shoulders shaky slightly. “Ronald?” William asks gently, not wanting to frighten him again.

“Y-You weren’t worried. No one is worried.”

“What? Knox, I was, and am, genuinely worried about you.”

“No. You’re not.”

William’s brow furrows and he glances back at the door where Oliver still stands in the doorway. He’s not quite sure what to say here, so slowly, he moves closer to the other reaper. “Ronald, can you look at me?”

“No.”

“And why not?”

“You hate me.”

That leaves him almost speechless. “I don’t hate you. I never have. In fact, you know how I do feel about you, don’t you recall? I could never, never, hate you, Ronald. Far from it.” he tries assuring him, reaching to place his hand on Ronald’s shoulder.

“Sir…?”

He spins around, immediately shining the light behind him, inadvertently blinding Ronald in the process who quickly shields his eyes with a wince. “Knox?” he asks, sounding genuinely baffled.

“Yeah. Me.” Ronald replies, lowering his hand as William lowers the light. “Who’re you talking to?”

“I…” Ronald’s right. The other him he was just speaking to is gone from the bed and not just him, Oliver is gone as well. “I thought I was talking to you.”

“To me?”

He can’t fault Ronald for the confusion on his face. “Yes. You.” he looks down at his free hand, then offers it to Ronald. “Forgive me if I said anything to hurt you at the hotel.”

Ronald glances at William’s hand, hesitant before he decides to take it. “It’s okay.”

William lifts Ronald’s hand, using the light to observe Ronald’s wounds, frowning at the glass that’s still embedded into his skin. “Let’s get this cleaned up before we go back. I might have found something that could be useful to us.”

“Really?”

“Perhaps. Though, I did have a bit of help from that boy again. I know his name as well.”

“Yeah? What is it?”

“Oliver.”

Ronald blinks. “Who?”

“It's the name of the child that's been appearing to me.”

He blinks again, trying to understand that. “He is? What's that make him then? Is he, I dunno, a ghost?” but before William can offer any suggestions, he suddenly shakes his head, “y’know what, nevermind. I just want to get my hand fixed up right now. It’s really starting to hurt.” he glances at William’s other hand. “Where’d you find that?”

“I found it in a drawer of the front desk.” William explains, stepping away from Ronald to search through the sparse storage in the room.

“Wow. That’s lucky.”

“Indeed it was.” Finally, William finds a pair of tweezers. They’re rusty (or rather, he chooses to believe it’s rust instead of blood) but they’ll do the trick. “Hold this.” he instructs, offering the torch to Ronald. The younger reaper takes it, aiming it at his hand as William sets about carefully removing each shard. Ronald winces several times, his hand reactively flinching a few times but eventually, William finishes the removal, twisting Ronald’s hand this way then that to ensure he’d removed every last shard. “Is that better?”

“Yeah. Thanks, sir.”

William releases Ronald’s hand and takes back the torch. “Right, let’s head back to the hotel.”

“Actually, I found something too. I dunno what it means, but maybe you can make sense of it.”

“Have you? Then yes, lead the way.”

Ronald does as instructed but William notices he keeps his distance. What did he say to make the younger reaper distrust him so much? A part of him wonders if sharing how he truly felt about the younger reaper was a good idea, despite Ronald’s request to be honest with each other. Even then, was Ronald serious about his dream or was he just using William as a cover up for who he was really dreaming about? No. Ronald wouldn’t tease him like that. At least, he didn’t think Ronald would. “It’s this.” Ronald says once he’s led William to the cafeteria and to one of the metal tables.

William snaps from his thoughts and sure enough, there’s something etched into the tabletop. Ax3. William runs his fingers over the grooves, thinking of what it could be. “Interesting.”

“Yeah, what I said. I thought that maybe there were three A’s, but what would that even mean?”

William thinks on it for a moment, then walks to the adjacent table. Ox2 is carved into this one. He pulls the folded paper from his pocket and smooths it out, wondering if this is the key to the morse code. “Ronald, check the other tables.”

“Why?”

“Because I think they’re the answer to this.” he gestures to the paper. “This is what I found during my search for you.”

Ronald looks just as confused by the morse code as he was, but he doesn’t protest, doing as William asked. Soon enough, they meet back at the first table with more letters, letters William writes underneath the existing code:

Ex2, Nx1, Yx2, Hx1, Tx1, Cx1, Rx1, Kx1, Ox2, Px1, Ax3, Sx1, Lx1, Wx1, Bx1, Dx2

“Okay, so what does this mean?” Ronald asks, confused.

“I suppose we’re meant to unscramble the letters.”

Ronald frowns. “Well, the first word I see is ‘by’.”

William nods, writing it beneath the letters. “That leaves us with zero B’s and one Y.”  

“Great. Fun.”

William resits rolling his eyes. “This might get us somewhere Knox, such as a way out.”

“I doubt we’ll ever get that.”

William faces Ronald again, shining the light directly into his face on purpose this time. The younger reaper flinches again, weaving away from the beam. “Can you not?” he whines.

He still seems to be his Ronald. “Ronald, listen to me. I need you to remain positive that we’ll get home, alright? Yes, I know, that’s rich coming from me, but we cannot afford to be pessimistic. I have a feeling it’ll feed off that.”

“‘It’?”

“This town, this fog, this…entity.”

Ronald’s eyes begin to narrow, like William’s the source of all their problems. “Yeah, you say that like it’s easy for me to forget everything you said to me.”

William sighs but he tries to keep his voice steady despite the frustration that’s building. “I never said anything to you.”

Ronald scowls, clenching his fists. “Yes you did!” His voice is sharp, his anger bubbling over. “You said you were unlucky to be stuck with me! That mum never loved me! That everyone was happy I was gone!”

Now William realises that Ronald really had been manipulated, because those words never passed his lips. “Ronald, I promise, I never said any of that.”

“It sure as hell looked and sounded like you!”

“And I’m telling you it wasn’t. Why would I ever say anything like that to you?” Thankfully, that question seems to get Ronald to pause and think, his anger dimming just a bit, his expression faltering. “Exactly. I have no ill will towards you, you know that. I want you safe. I want you protected, not unwanted or unloved.”

“But…it was you.”

“I swear it wasn’t.” William gestures to the room with his free hand, “this place, it’s playing with us. It’s making us hear and see things. I don’t know if it prys on our emotions, our deepest thoughts, our insecurities or all of the above, but it knows exactly how to get to us.”

“How…how would you know that?”

“Because I never said any of those things to you, Ronald. I promise.”

Ronald’s at a loss for words, his eyes drifting to the side as his shoulders sag. “You. Said. It. I know you–” In an act of desperation, William drops the torch, cups Ronald’s cheeks and kisses him. He feels Ronald freeze up instantly and he knows this may not be the best way to convey to Ronald he’s telling the truth, it’s about the only thing he can think of at the moment.

He holds the kiss for a solid minute before slowly easing away, staring directly into Ronalds’s eyes. “I adore you too much to ever hurt you like that.”

Ronald stares at him now, wide eyed with his mouth moving as though he’s trying to form any words. William hopes he didn’t ruin things even further between them, that he didn’t cross any lines or that Ronald feels forced to return his affections. He just needed to make it clear that, despite whatever this town tries to convince Ronald of, he would never hurt him. “Y-You…” Ronald’s mouth opens and closes a few more times before he finally manages to get the rest of the sentence out, “...kissed me…?”

“I did.” William lowers his hands, already regretting what he’d done, bending down to grab the torch. “I apologise if that was overstepping any boundaries, but–”

“Don’t.” Ronald interrupts. “I…I believe you…”

William feels a surge of shame, his own gaze falling to the floor, unwilling to meet Ronald’s. “Let’s just take this information back to the hotel where we can–”

“S-Sir!”

Ronald’s tone has shifted from stunned astonishment to outright horror. William snaps his head around to see where Ronald is staring, and there, in the dim light, is the same creature he had seen before, its shadowy form looming ominously. The torch’s light flickers and dies before William can react. Wasting no time, he grabs Ronald and yanks him from the room, pulling him into a run, not stopping until they feel some semblance of safety.

When the silence settles and no monstrous sounds follow then, William slows their pace, taking a deep breath as Ronald anxiously rocks on his feet, his eyes wide and fixed on the direction they just feld from, expecting that creature to re-emerge any second. “I-It won’t, right? It won’t come after us?”

“No.” William’s response is far too confident, given that he had no idea whether he was right or not. “We’re safe for now.”

“Bloody fuck! That thing is horrifying! Why won’t it leave me alone?!” Ronald cries out, gripping tightly to his hair.

William knows he and Ronald are seeing different creatures, knows for certain now that things are not the same between them despite even being right next to each other. “I think it’s best if we stay together.” William says, keeping his voice calm despite what he really feels. “That way, at least you’ll have someone to rely on.”

“Yeah…yeah, you’re right.” Ronald swallows hard, dropping his hands and meeting William’s gaze. “You saw it too, right?”

“I did.” William semi-lies, not wanting to further scare Ronald by revealing they’re seeing different variants of the same monster. “It’s not an encounter I’d like to repeat.”

“You can say that again.” Roald shivers, rubbing his hands up and down his arms. “Can we go now?”

“Brilliant idea.” William agrees, but as they prepare to do so, he can’t help as his mind drifts back to Oliver. Would the child have stepped in again if things got worse? The idea of a child saving them is almost laughable, but also more than a little humiliating.

Stepping out of the hospital feels like a breath of fresh air. The fog has lifted once again and William doesn’t feel the need to constantly check over his shoulder for the moment. However, now that the excitement has faded, he’s beginning to feel today’s toll on his back as each step sends a searing spike up his spine. Right, turns out he will need those painkillers today. “Sir…?”

William turns around, expecting a few things for Ronald to want to discuss, but instead, Ronald launches himself into William’s arms, initiating the kiss himself this time. William’s mind stalls, hardly believing what’s happening. Surely Ronald doesn’t return his affections. Surely this is another trick but as the seconds tick by and Ronald refuses to let go, William leans into the kiss, reacting instinctively, holding Ronald just as tightly as the younger reaper holds him. Even when Ronald’s knees give out, forcing them both to sink to the ground, Ronald refuses to pull away until William’s the one to break it with heavy reluctance. “Ronald?”

“I…I just had to.” he confesses, “I’m sorry.”

“You certainly have no reason to apologise.” William brushes his fingers through Ronald’s hair, his touch gentle as he tries to reassure the younger reaper. “In fact, I am the one who should apologise for kissing you as I did. It was out of line.”

“But you had a point to prove.” Ronald leans in more to the touch, his voice becoming quieter, almost looking embarrassed. “I just…jumped you.” he places his hands on William’s shoulders. “Sorry.”

“Don’t, please. Don’t apologise.” William insists, trying to still his racing heart.

That’s easily done when Ronald pulls away and wraps his arms around himself, his face contorted in discomfort. “I…I feel like a dick saying this, but…can we pretend that didn’t happen? Please?”

That takes William by surprise. He’d hoped Ronald might finally admit that he shared William’s feelings, but this wasn’t the outcome he’d expected. “Yes. Of course.” He forces himself to stand, wincing at the effort. “Neither my kiss, nor yours, happened.” He offers his hand to Ronald, his expression softening. “Now come. Let’s return to the hotel.”

Ronald hesitates, looking at William’s outstretched hand before taking it, allowing himself to be helped up. “And get you lying down. I saw that wince.”

William sighs, reaching over his shoulder in an attempt to rub the pain away. “Unfortunately, you’re correct. It’s begun aching again.”

Ronald places his hand on William’s back, rubbing up and down his spine with a gentle pressure. “Does this help?”

“Somewhat.” William rolls his shoulders, relieved by the touch but still feeling the tension. “Standing here will not, however.”

“Yeah. Right. Let’s go.” Ronald agrees, his tone shifting back to something more practical. “We’ll get you some rest.”

********************

“You’re a busy bee Allie, what’s got you so into the history of the realm? Is this the only way you can spend your very extended medical leave?”

Alan glances up from his pile of books he was able to secure from the Library. They vary on minor subjects, the overall theme was the realms of the past, places that were once here, now long forgotten or destroyed. While Alan assumed, like everyone did, there wasn’t a place in their realm he didn’t know about, he was quick to learn that wasn’t the case. “Like I have a choice when I’m allowed to come back.” he snaps back at Grell, closing the book he’d been reading, “but I’m searching for a place. A town rather.”

Grell sits across from him, resting her chin on her palms, looking rather unimpressed. “I hope this has something to do with Will and Ron.”

Alan looks around the canteen where he was able to find a secluded table by the windows, wanting to be here when Eric took his break but discussing the town he was looking for almost felt taboo. “It does.” he assures her. “Have you ever heard of a town called Haven?”

“Haven?” She lets her gaze trail to the side as she thinks and to Alan’s surprise, her answer isn’t what he was expecting, “I think I may have.”

“Really?” he asks with obvious surprise.

“Think, darling.” she leans up, stroking her fingers through her long red locks. “When Will and I were back in the academy, I think I recall some other students talking about this ‘urban legend’. Will brushed it off, of course, but I was curious.” she makes eye contact with Alan, “as they told it, there was a town founded by an old woman and it existed on the cusp of our realm and the human realm, the human part of it allowing the town to be influenced by both humans and demons. Supposedly, that old woman made a deal with a demon to make a town the most prosperous one in the entire realm, but there was one condition. The moment her first child turned ten, a sacrifice was to be made and from that, a tradition was born. Each family that lived in that town were destined to have a son as their first born and once that son was of age, he would be sacrificed to that demon as payment for the demon to keep the realm as grand as it was. Supposedly, there was a mishap that happened, a child that was killed or taken before their tenth birthday and the whole town fell into despair as the demon saw no use in keeping his end of the bargain when she could not fulfill hers.”

Alan stares at her for a moment before looking down at his stack of books. “That’s…well, that’s quite a story. A horrible story but a story nonetheless, right?”

She shrugs. “They say some of these stories are twisted from real events, so who’s to really say?”

A shudder runs through Alan. “Until I find proof of otherwise, I’m going to keep believing it is just an urban legend.”

Grell shrugs again, folding her arms over her chest. “On another note, what ever happened to Mr. and Mrs. Spears? Have they left or are they still on the search?”

“They’re staying with Eric and I for now and actually…” he glances about the room again, before leaning forward, guarding one side of his mouth with his hand, “Callum and Eric found William’s car and phone.”

“What?!” Grell’s sudden shriek grabs the attention of a few onlookers. “They found Will’s car?!”

“Shh!” Alan instantly hushes. “Quiet Grell. The last thing we need right now is more rumors.”

Grell’s still perturbed by that fact but Alan has a point. The most popular one that’s circulating right now is that William and Ronald ran off together. “And his phone?” she drags her fingers through her hair again, trying to calm herself. “That’s not good Alan.”

“I know it’s not. Callum thinks William’s gone and, well, tried to kill himself again.”

“He wouldn’t! It’s not like he had another you to break his heart again.” Alan gives her an unimpressed look and she glares right back. “What? I’m only saying what’s true.”

Before Alan can snap back, a warm, study hand suddenly lands on his shoulder and both of them look up to watch Eric slide into the seat next to Alan, throwing his arm fully around Alan’s shoulders. He has a quip on his tongue, a greeting in mind, but when he feels the tension between them, he just sighs. “Right. What happened now?”

“Nothing.” Alan says. “We were just talking.”

Grell holds her tongue as well, thankfully. “Indeed darling. Just talking.” she stands then, resting her hand on her hip. “But I’ve done enough chatting for now. Some of us still have to work.” she winks at Eric, “see you later dear.”

Eric watches her walk off before switching attention back to Alan. “Talkin’ hey? What’d she say?”

“She’s just…” he debates for only a second if he wants to tell Eric what Grell said, but chooses to avoid that topic entirely, “well you heard her. She’s jealous she still needs to work while I’m still stuck on medical leave.” he frowns, tugging at the hem of his sleeve. “Not that I have much of a choice.”

Eric leans in, pressing a kiss to Alan’s temple. “Don’t let Red get to ya, lad.”

“I know. I try not to.” he shakes his head, trying to rid many of those dark thoughts that were starting to plaque his mind. Instead, he shifts focus back to what he was originally doing, grabbing the book he was just reading and tapping the cover of it. “I’ve been searching high and low for anything about Haven.”

“I see! Ye’ve been busy.”

“I have and while I wasn’t necessarily able to find any reading material about Haven, Grell did tell me about an urban legend regarding the town.” He sets the book down in favour of taking Eric’s hand.

As he reiterates the story, he watches Eric’s face start to fall and his eyes start to dim  When he finishes, Eric’s clutching his hand in turn even tighter. “Fuck…” is all he manges to say at first. “My parents took me away from that place because they didn’t want me to be fuckin’ sacrificed. I know that’s what Callum told us last night, but hearing that he’s right...fuck.” he runs his fingers through his loose blond hair, “and they died because of it.”

Alan offers him a sympathetic look. “I’m sorry Eric.”

Eric shakes his head. “Ye got nothin’ to apologise for Al. It’s just…a fucked up situation and knowin’ Will and Ron are stuck there...” he’s thinking now, “Grell said it’s on the edge of our realm and the human realm, aye?”

“Yes.”

“Then I wonder if the human side of Haven is just as abandoned as the reaper side. Maybe, maybe, they’re stuck on that side and that’s why we got no contact with ‘em.”

Alan thinks about it as well. “Maybe.” he sighs. “If you weren’t stuck with William’s job, you could go during the day instead of making an awful trek in the night.”

Eric smirks. “Well, that’s the thing. Callum took over fer me.”

Alan blinks. “He did?”

“Aye. When Kimiko told ‘im…well, that ye were sick, the lad met me in Spears’ office this morning and said he’d take over for me so we could spend a bit more time together. Now, after I showed him what he needs to do and how to do it like Will would, he let me go.”

Alan can only smile when he hears that news, though it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. He hugs Eric, squeezing him as tightly as he can. “That was very kind of him.”

Eric returns Alan’s embrace, squeezing him even tighter. “Aye, isn't it? Now you and I can go to Haven and check things out fer ourselves.”

“Me?” Alan pulls away with a frown. “Eric, I can’t leave the realm when I'm on medical leave, remember?”

Clearly, no, he did not. “Shit. Right.”

“Why don’t you ask Kimiko to go with you? I’ll stay here and continue to search for anything else about Haven.”

Eric sighs, clearly not enjoying the idea of leaving Alan behind, but it’s better than going alone. So he stands up but doesn’t leave without kissing Alan on the cheek. “I love ya.”

“I love you too. Now go.”

Eric doesn’t want to. He wants to take Callum’s kindness to be with Alan, but he knows there are far more pressing matters at hand. So, he returns home to find Kimiko. The older woman is still clutching William’s phone as if it’s her only reassurance that he’s alright. “Kimiko?” he asks.

Her attention snaps to him so quickly that he freezes. Those once warm eyes now resemble William’s cold gaze. “Do not tell me you’ve found my son’s corpse.”

“Thankfully, no, but I may have an idea where to find him.”

“Where?”

“The human side of Haven.” He gives Kimiko a brief rundown of what Alan told him of what Grell told Alan.

Kimiko is quick to get to her feet, putting William’s phone aside. “Let us go. Sitting by the wayside only makes my heart grow heavier. If Callum will not have faith, I will simply have to prove him wrong.”

Chapter Text

As it turned out, the human side of Haven wasn’t any better than the reaper side. Everything felt eerily identical, from the crumbling buildings to the ruined roads, as though the decay seeped through the very fabric of reality. The only real difference is the absence of that suffocating, oppressive atmosphere. It is quiet however, lifeless and yet, Eric doesn't feel the need to constantly look over his shoulder. Here, the silence is merely an emptiness, not unseen eyes watching from the dark.

Another difference is between the spouses. While Callum seemed wary of everything to the point he deemed it unsafe, Kimiko strides forward with purpose, barely sparing a glance at anything she doesn’t deem worthy. She’s determined, unwavering and Eric respects that. He knows that same drive, feels it within himself whenever Alan is involved. If there was even the faintest glimmer of a cure out there, no matter how impossible it seemed, he’ll pursue it without hesitation but the Thorns of Death are so rare that the mere idea of a cure feels like a fairytale. “Haven.” Kimiko comments, a bitterness in her tone. “The first time Callum and I set foot here, it already felt like nothing more than a breeding ground for the occult.”

Eric presses his lips into a thin line. “Do you have any idea why me mum and da’ thought this place was a good one to live in?”

“As your father told us,” Kimiko replies, “a friend of theirs convinced them it would be the ideal place to raise a child.” Her next words come out a little softer, yet with more anguish behind them, “our realm is hardly suited for the young, but we’re required to have offspring so our kind may continue to flourish. Your parents were told this town was going to be a sanctuary for families, that it was built with that very purpose in mind.” she glances back at him, “despite what Callum and I felt, we had no reason to believe otherwise. Nor did they.”

Eric falls instep beside her, hands shoved into his pockets. “Were ye parents yet?”

There’s a hesitation there, a hesitation Eric finds odd for such a simple question. “We were, yes. Did you know William was only a few weeks old when you two met for the first time before your family moved to Haven?” she looks at him again, a longer, more reflective look. “You were insistent on holding him.”

Eric stares down at his hands, astonished by what he’s been told. He met William before? As a baby? “Why don’t I remember that? Or…or anything before me parents death?”

“You were young, Eric. When your parents were slain, I’m sure, on many levels, you tried to forget that horrific day.”

Eric swallows hard. “And you don’t know what killed them?”

“No.” she answers with regret colouring her words. “Callum told you we tried to get into contact with you once we heard of their demise, but we assumed none of our letters made it through to you, or you had perished as well.”

“I…” he swallows. “I remember just pushin’ everyone away. Didn’t read any letters or really talk to anyone for…for a long time.”

Kimiko turns to Eric, resting her hand on his bicep. “You were a distraught ten year old, of course you would work through your grief in such a way, but I want you to know, had you read our letters, Callum and I were willing to take you in, or at the very least, send you money if you needed it.”

That fully surprises Eric as he stops dead in his tracks. “You…what?”

She smiles at him. “As you were told, Callum and your father were very good friends. In fact, you were the reason Callum and I wanted to start our own family.” She begins to walk again, leaving Eric to stare after her as this is the most he’s heard spoken about his parents since that day, especially to be told that he knew William when he was still a newborn.

He catches up with her quickly and the walk continues on in mutual silence, the crumbling ruins of the town standing witness to their previous conversation. Eric’s gaze drifts over shattered glass of storefronts and faded remains of signs once advertising goods. “Do you know the person who convinced them to move here?”

“Rebecca. That is all we know of her.” Kimiko responds. “Your mother was insistent that we meet with this woman but Callum and I had no desire to raise William under someone else's vision. We wanted to raise him in our own way, to prepare him for what life would inevitably bring.”

“So, you were hopin’ Will would be someone important?”

“We’d hoped he’d take after us in some way, yes. And he did.” A small, satisfied smile curves over her lips before it falls again. “We’ve heard the rumors as well, that Callum and I had a hand in securing his supervisor position, but I assure you, we did not. William earned that spot all on his own.”

“Never doubted that.” Eric mutters, peering into one of the abandoned shops. The inside is coated in dust, the shelves still stocked with long expired goods. “He acts too much like he knows what he’s doin’ to have gotten it because daddy put in a good word to the Board.”

He hears the smile in her voice instead. “Good.”

As they continue forward, another thought tugs at the back of Eric’s mind. “What about what Callum said? Blood soaked in the soil and decaying bodies at the bottom of a lake?”

Kimiko’s expression shifts far too quickly for Eric not to assume her answer is personal. “After your parents’ death, Callum and I came to Haven, hoping to find some explanation,” she closes her eyes briefly, “instead we stumbled upon one of the rituals taking place.”

A chill creeps up Eric’s spine. “Ritual?”

“I do not wish to repeat what we saw,” she explains quietly, “but it was horrific, Eric. Callum and I…we could not bear to witness it for long.”

Eric winces, “shit…how the hell did you two get here with Will being just a wean?” he thinks for a moment, “was Will ever here?”

“How dare you assume that!” Kimiko snaps with vitriol enough to shock him. “We would have never brought our son to this cursed place and I am appalled you even dare to suggest we would.”

Eric raises his hands in defense, “sorry. Didn’t mean to imply anythin’. Just…curious.” although there’s something about her reaction that strikes him as odd, much like her earlier hesitation.

She seems to realise that her outburst was uncalled for, as she turns her head away, pushing her glasses further up her nose. “This is not a good place, Eric. Many horrors have happened here. You can feel it.”

“Aye…” She gestures for him to keep up and Eric only briefly pauses before quickening his pace to walk alongside her once again. Why was she so angry at a simple question? Better yet, how the hell could they have seen a ritual happening and not have intervened? If it was as terrible as she said it was, why didn’t they step in? It would have saved the life of a child, damn it. Then again, he knows next to nothing about the place except the small bit of information he’s been told, so maybe it wasn’t that easy.

As they walk, it occurs to Eric that he has no idea where they’re going. Clearly, Kimiko has a destination in mind, but where? “Can I ask where we’re goin’?”

Kimiko hesitates again but this time, the pause feels more for his sake than hers. “Your home.”

Eric blinks. “Home?”

“Yes. Where you lived before your parents fled with you.”

His stomach twists. “Why?”

“If there’s anything left that can tell us more about this place,” she explains, her eyes darting across the street as if she’d seen something, “it might be there.”

A lump forms in his throat but he forces a nod. “Aye. Alright. Lead the way.” he rubs the back of his neck, an uneasy chill settling over him. Home. The word doesn’t sit right with him. His home is wherever Alan is now; the house he lived before is not even a memory, lost to the haze of grief and time. “Alan told me that Grell told him that reapers had to agree to…sacrifice a son to live here. Why the hell would my parents agree to that?”

“I doubt they knew.” Kimiko replies as they walk down a new road, this one entering the suburbs. The homes are just as dilapidated and isolated as all the other buildings. Rusted bicycles lie forgotten in overgrown gardens, clotheslines hang cut and frayed, fences stand broken and half collapsed. None of it feels welcoming. “Had they, I’m sure they wouldn’t have moved, let alone suggested that Callum and I join them.”

“Somethin’ about that feels wrong. I feel like they woulda known something before moving here.”

“Eric, while I may have some answers, I do not have them all, nor do I understand why this town took William and your friend.”

Eric frowns at her. “And yer sure Spears was never here? Ye never brought him when he was young?”

“I continue to not appreciate the insinuation.” Kimiko snaps at him again, glaring at him over her shoulder.

Yet Eric can’t help but notice she’s not given him a direct answer, but she wouldn’t hide things from him, would she? After all, it sounded like she, and Callum, did genuinely care about him and respect hopefully enough to tell him the truth. “Right. Just needed to make sure.”

Kimiko sighs, folding her hands together then pressing them against her lips. “Forgive me Eric, I merely fear for my son. I will not know peace until I see him again with my own eyes.”

“I understand, Mrs. Spears.”

As silence drifts between them once again, it doesn’t take long for them to finally reach their destination. Eric stands at the front gate of what used to be his old home. He really doesn’t remember it, but there is something about it that feels vaguely familiar. The orange bricks have dulled considerably, cracked and riddled with holes, the white trim of the windows now looks more grey, the wood cracked and peeling, the bay window completely shattered and the front door looks as if it has been nearly kicked in. “Does this remind you of anything?” Kimiko asks.

“I…I dunno. No and yes at the same time.”

Kimiko touches his shoulder. “Would you prefer to stay out here while I look inside?”

Eric weighs his options; one one hand, something pulls him toward the house but on the other, with how this town is, he feels someone should keep watch. “I think I’ll stay out here.” he answers.

She nods. “Alright. I won’t be long.” she promises before disappearing inside the home.

Eric stands diligently on guard, waiting, watching. Knowing this place was partly influenced by demons only sets him more on edge. He knows that at any moment, one of those bloody creatures could swoop down on him, so, as a precaution, he summons his scythe, expecting the worst. “A reaper on tainted soil? I never expected to see this again.”

Eric grits his teeth as a creature emerges from the shadows. It’s clearly a demon trying to take human form, but it’s one of the younger ones, as its horns have yet to be fully hidden by the disguise. “Figured we’d run into some problems,” Eric replies. “What do ye want? Because I suggest ye leave before you're sent back to the place ye came from.”

“Now, now, can’t we be civil? This is our territory, after all.”

“Our?”

To answer his question, more lower-level demons step from the shadows, each halfway cloaked under the guise of being human. “Our territory.”

Eric digs his heels into the ground. “Alright, who’s first?” he mutters, tightening his grip.

The creatures don’t need an invitation. They lunge as one, screeching with inhuman hunger. Eric pivots sharply, his scythe whistling through the air as it cleaves through the nearest demon’s midsection. The creature lets out a wet gurgle before collapsing into blackened dust. He sidesteps another swipe, bringing his weapon down in a vicious arc to sever a clawed hand from its owner.

More come at him. He twists, the motion fluid, a deadly dance with nothing but instinct and years of Reaper training guiding him. Blood splatters across the pavement as he dispatches them, but there are too many. A claw rakes across his arm, another strikes his side, and for a moment, his footing falters. Then suddenly, a different scythe slices through the demon that would have taken a chunk out of him.

A figure steps forward, moving with a precision that Eric isn’t even capable of. Kimiko joins the fight, tall, poised, and exuding an aura of quiet authority. Eric barely has time to process the situation before she moves. With a practised flick of her wrist, she unsheathes her own weapon–a silver sickle, pristine and elegant. She plunges it into the nearest demon’s skull, twisting gracefully as she evades another’s lunge. “You’re struggling, Slingby,” she remarks, her voice smooth yet laced with quiet amusement.

Eric laughs despite himself, driving his scythe through another demon’s chest. “Ha! I’d say I’m doing great considerin’ how many there are!”

“I suppose I do have to give that to you,” she replies, effortlessly sidestepping an attack. Her blade slices upward, carving through another demon’s throat before she delivers a decisive thrust, obliterating the final foe.

The dust settles. Silence reigns once more. Eric exhales, rolling his shoulder where a dull ache has settled in. He glances at her. “Was an honour to see ye fight.”

She banishes her weapon with ease. “It has not been something I’ve done for quite some time.” She surveys the area, her eyes narrowing. “I could sense these foul beasts from inside and, though you may not have needed my help, it helped release some of my pent-up aggression toward Callum at the moment.”

Eric banishes his scythe as well. “He’s still convinced Will’s dead?”

“He will be until we find him alive or dead.”

“Why is he so convinced that he is?”

Kimiko shakes her head. “William’s tried to…well, there was an incident many years ago that left him hospitalised. That’s all I’ll say. I’m sure he’d rather keep those affairs private.”

That had to be the incident with Alan. That was the only time he’d heard William and hospital mentioned together. Just, what exactly happened? “Yeah, I understand that.”

Kimiko takes a calming breath before scanning over Eric. “You’re injured.” she states, seeing the tear in his suit and blood staining the fabric. “We should return and you should head to the infirmary to be sure it doesn’t get infected. Goodness knows where those demon claws have been.”

He winces this time as rolling his shoulder again makes the wound sting. “Aye, good point.” he looks back at the house, still finding no real connection to it. “Did ye find anything inside?”

“No,” she answers without looking at him. “But I still hold out hope there is something here that’ll lead us to them.”

Eric closes his eyes, nodding slowly. “Aye, lass. I hope you’re right.”

********************

The world is dark now. Ronald lies curled up in bed, wrapped tightly in the blankets, hating the silence that William’s phone used to keep at bay. If he tries hard enough, he can almost imagine a piano in the distance, but it’s a poor imitation of the real thing. The whispers still creep into his mind, speaking in tones he can’t make sense of.

After seeing that monster again, Ronald’s almost afraid to close his eyes, half expecting that thing to come bursting through the hotel room door to devour him if he does. He’s never seen a creature like that before and he doesn’t even know if it’s real.

As he shifts, trying to find a more comfortable position, the light in his peripheral vision distracts him slightly. William sits against the wall, knees pulled up, the piece of paper from the hospital resting against his thighs. One hand holds the pen, the other the torch. He’s given Ronald plenty of space since they returned to the hotel room, clearly assuming Ronald wants it after the unwanted (and poorly thought out) kiss they shared, but Ronald isn’t entirely sure if that’s what he wants. Kissing William was…strange. Different. He’s used to soft, plump lips, maybe with a taste of lip gloss; William’s were thin and a little dry, a little rough, a whole new sensation–one he’s scared to admit he liked. William’s feelings for him were laid plainly out and he promised they wouldn’t change their relationship in the slightest, but does a kiss nullify that? Is a kiss more damning than just only admitting you like your subordinate?

He frowns and rolls over completely, watching William as he studies the paper, tapping his bottom lip with his pen as he thinks. Neither of them can decipher the morse code, but the other puzzle could be solved with some trial and error, at least William believes so. The paper is littered with scratched out words, possible solutions discarded in frustration. “How’s it going?” Ronald mutters from inside his cocoon.

William glances up, his brows knit in frustration. “So far, I’ve found nothing that’ll provide us with the answers I was hoping for.”

“What are you thinkin’ it’s meant to say?”

“I haven’t the foggiest. I’ve run through quite a few combinations, but if I manage to form a word, I lack a place for the remaining letters and any full sentence is a jumbled mess.”

“Maybe it doesn’t say anything at all.”

“It must.” William scribbles down another combination before instantly striking it out with a frown. “Having letters carved into the tables feels deliberate.”

“Or just someone fucking with us.”

William gives him a deadpan stare. “Enough Knox.” he returns his eyes to his paper, “try to get some sleep.”

“Easier said than done. It’s way too quiet again.” Ronald sighs. “Wish we still had your phone.”

“And who’s fault is that?” the moment the words leave his mouth, William clamps his lips shut, regret immediately flooding him. “I…I apologise. That was uncalled for.”

Ronald pulls the blanket tighter around himself. “And you said you weren’t the one that yelled at me.” his voice is muffled against the pillow but the words hit William hard.

He feels his heart sink, knowing he wouldn’t have said that otherwise, but the frustration of not having any answers is getting to him. He knows he has a temper and he knows he takes it out on others sometimes. “I do genuinely apologise to you, Ronald.”

“Sure.”

William inhales through his nose and exhales slowly through his mouth. He chooses to keep his thoughts to himself, refocusing on the jumbled letters in front of him. There are only so many combinations he can make and he feels like he’s close, he just needs that final ah-ha moment. “The place…one, alright.” he mutters, writing that down. “The place one…works day by day. That’s it!” he exhales sharply, relief washing over him. “Finally.”

“Did you get it?”

“I think I may have. ‘The place one works day by day’.”

“Great. So you figured it out, just for it to be another puzzle.”

“Well, where does one work every day?”

“There’s a lotta answers to that.”

“Regarding our situation then. There has to be a correlation.”

“Dunno.”

William closes his eyes and counts backwards from five. He’s not used to being the optimistic one, especially when Ronald was usually so upbeat. He breathes through his nose, mentally preparing himself to stand but the moment he tries, his back seizes up. Pain lances through him, forcing him to sit back down with a sharp hiss. “Damn it.”

Ronald peeks out at him. “You…okay?”

“I’ll be fine.” he replies, steadying his breath. “I fear I’ve done too much today.”

“You didn’t take those pain meds yet?”

“No. I was too eager to focus on that bloody puzzle.”

Ronald watches him for a moment longer before finally sighing and kicking off the blankets. He gets out of bed and approaches William, offering both hands. “Lemme help.”

William eyes Ronald’s hands before setting the paper and torch aside to take them. Ronald leans back slightly, using more strength than necessary as he nearly yanks William off balance. “Goodness.” William mutters once he steadies himself. “You’re certainly far stronger than I presumed you to be.”

Ronald shrugs. “Comes with carryin’ that scythe around.”

“I suppose so.” he dusts off his blazer. “Thank you.”

“Yeah.”

William doesn’t comment on Ronald’s clipped tone. Instead, he leans down to retrieve the paper and torch. “Right, well, I think I may have an idea where to go. You mentioned finding an office and that would be my best guess regarding our location.” he tells Ronald, folding the paper and tucking it into his pocket. “Why don’t you try to get some sleep while I–?”

“You said we should stick together.” Ronald frowns.

“Yes, but you seem unhappy with me–rightfully so–and I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“I’d rather be uncomfortable than alone.”

William clenches his jaw, looking away. “I suppose that’s understandable.” he sets the pen down on the nightstand. “Then, will you show me where the office is?” he asks, offering Ronald the torch.

“Yeah. I can.” Ronald says, taking the light and leads the way out of the room. Tension lingers between them, thick enough you could cut it with a knife, but Ronald meant what he said. He’d rather feel uncomfortable around William than be alone and vulnerable. However, the silence of the walk does give him time to think. William insisted he wasn’t the one who yelled at Ronald in the lobby but how could that be true? It was his face, his voice, there should be no question about it, yet if that were true, he doubts William would be so adamant that it wasn’t him, so…maybe–just maybe–there was a way to tell the difference. “Hey sir?”

“Yes?”

“I was thinkin’, maybe we should come up with a safe word.”

“A safe word?”

“Yeah.” Ronald stops and turns to face him. “If you’re tellin’ the truth that it wasn’t you in the lobby, then I wanna have somethin’ to tell me it isn’t. If it happens again, and you don’t say the word, then I’ll know it’s not really you.”

William crosses his arms. “Do you believe I wasn’t the one who yelled at you?”

“No, but if it happens again, and you don’t say the word, then I will.”

William nods, understanding where Ronald’s logic is coming from, even if a part of him doubts it’d even work. “Fair enough. What are you thinking it’ll be?”

“Somethin’ kinda obscure.” Ronald thinks for a moment, then meets William’s eyes. “You’ve done well today Knox.”

William blinks. “That’s more of a sentence.”

“Yeah, well, if I hear it, then I’ll know it’s you, yeah?”

“Alright.”

“Okay.” Ronald continues leading the way and William feels…conflicted. He had no idea those words affected Ronald so much, but in hindsight, it made sense. Compliments weren’t something William threw around freely and when he offered one to Ronald, he meant it.

Eventually, Ronald opens the door to the office, sweeping the light around to examine the space. Nothing’s changed, it’s still a mess and when his light lands on the door next to the filing cabinet, he has a feeling that’s where they’ll need to go. “This is where I found that riddle.” Ronald says, gesturing to the desk. “And where I found those names.”

William steps toward the desk, scanning over what little information there is still on it. “I still find it hard to believe what you experienced, but being in here, I’m more inclined to.”

“She was pissed, sir.”

“From the way that name was eviscerated from the paper, clearly.” he turns around and eyes the door Ronald keeps the light on. “And what’s behind there?”

“Dunno. Didn’t get that far the first time.”

William approaches the door and tests the handle. It’s unlocked, thus he opens the door to reveal a near-empty room. Directly across from him stands a grandfather clock, its face frozen in time, while on the wall next to it, four pocket watches are affixed in deliberate symmetry. “Interesting.” William comments, stepping inside.

Ronald follows him, the beam of his torch sweeping across the room. “Huh…y’know, I don’t know if I like this.”

William approaches the grandfather clock, his eyes drawn to the hands that have stopped at precisely 4:18. “It’s showing a different time than the bloody eight every other clock’s been stuck at.”

Ronald meanders over to the pocket watches, inspecting each one carefully. He notices that each one has a different time frozen in place, its hands seemingly caught at random. “These too.”

William steps back, cupping his chin thoughtfully as his gaze shifts between the watches and the dim-lit room. “Hm…”

“You thinkin’ it’s another puzzle?”

“I am, but the answer or prize? I’m unsure.”

Ronald scans the walls once more, the flickering torchlight catching strange, carved faces above the pocket watches. Each face is unique, and the expressions are unsettling. Above the first watch, a face with hands folded in front of it; above the second, a face with a single tear; the third features a face with its hands covering its eyes; and above the fourth, a face with scratched-out eyes. “Maybe this’ll help?”

William glances over, tilting his head slightly, his brow furrowing as he takes in the details of the faces. “Odd.”

“Looks like they’re meant to represent emotions?” Ronald suggests, his voice uncertain but intrigued, his brow furrowing deeper.

“It would seem so.” William picks up one of the pocket watches and flips it over. Behind it, he spots a small hole in the wall where the metal peg on the back of the watch is meant to slot into place. Engraved above the peg is an intricate image of hydrangeas. He lets it fall back into place and moves on to the others. Each watch bears a different engraving: chrysanthemum, peony, and purple hyacinth. “If I had to guess, I’d assume this is the language of flowers.”

“Where’s Alan when you need him?” Ronald jokes, his tone dry. “So…you know any of that language?”

“When Humphries and I were...together, he did mention some of the language to me.” William’s eyes linger on the hyacinth, his expression growing pensive as he recalls the past. “I believe these represent some form of regret.”

“So then, is it supposed to match a face?” Ronald asks, pointing to the carved faces above them.

“Perhaps.” William removes the hyacinth pocket watch from the wall, holding it up as he examines the faces carefully. “The one that represents regret, in my opinion, is this one.” He gestures to the face with hands covering its eyes, and gently removes the watch beneath it, replacing it with the hyacinth. A soft click echoes in the room as the watch slots into place. Something shifts, as if the wall itself has acknowledged the change.

“Is that…good?” Ronald asks, squinting as if to spot some tiny new detail, the uncertainty in his voice evident.

“I believe so.” William places the remaining pocket watches on the table beneath the carved faces. “Right, let’s see which else matches.” Ronald sets the torch down, the beam casting long shadows across the room as he positions it to shine directly onto the watches. They carefully arrange the timepieces, taking time to deliberate over the engravings and the order in which they should be placed. The atmosphere is tense, as if they are not just solving a puzzle, but deciphering something much deeper. After a few moments of contemplation, they arrive at a conclusion: hydrangeas, peony, chrysanthemum, and finally, the hyacinth.

William steps forward to place the first two pocket watches back on the wall. As he slides the metal nubs into the holes beneath the faces with their hands folded and the one with the tear, the watches click into place with a satisfying sound but when Ronald places the final watch, despite it clicking securely into position, nothing happens. “Uh…so, what’d that do?” Ronald asks, his voice tinged with uncertainty as he glances at William, awaiting some sign of progress.

William frowns, his brows knitting together in confusion. “I’m not sure.” He picks up the torch again, sweeping the beam across the wall until it catches a faintly carved sentence next to the faces: ‘Only when all are in unison, will he find rest.’ “Unison?” William repeats, his voice low, the word hanging in the air as he processes its meaning.

Ronald places his hands on his hips, narrowing his eyes as they fixate on the grandfather clock. “Maybe…” he starts, his voice thoughtful, “maybe they all gotta line up with the big clock?”

William sighs, a hint of exasperation creeping into his tone. “Worth a try.”

With sudden confidence, Ronald exclaims, “I got it,” already moving to adjust the time on the pocket watches. His hands work quickly, setting the time on each watch until he reaches the last one.

As soon as the final adjustment is made, the room is suddenly pierced by the loud chime of the grandfather clock. It rings sharply, so loudly that both of them jump, frozen for a moment as the sound reverberates around the room. The pendulum swings into motion, and the clock’s ticking becomes a steady rhythm. The glass face of the clock slides open with a faint creak. William steps forward, his eyes drawn to the space beneath where the hands meet. There, in the shadowed corner, is a small slot with something protruding from it. Carefully, he reaches in and pulls out a small key. Holding it up, he examines it, his brow furrowing. “Strange,” he murmurs, turning to Ronald. “It’s for room three fourteen.”

“We did all that for a key?” Ronald raises an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed.

“A key means another open room,” William replies, pocketing the object, “and another open room might lead to more answers.” He leads the way out of the room but pauses when his gaze lands on the filing cabinet they passed earlier. He didn’t think much of it at first, but if there was a chance to find any answers, there may be some in here.

Ronald stands idly next to him, not expecting much to come from this exploration but when William pulls out a file with a small tape recorder attached to it, he suddenly becomes interested. “What’d you find?”

William looks at the name written in the tab of the manilla folder, hardly believing his own eyes, but he’s seeing clearly. “Slingby.” he tells Ronald. “This is a folder that belongs to Slingby.”

Ronald blinks once, then twice, then three times. “Like, our Slingby? Eric?”

“I know only one family by that name.” He passes the torch back to Ronald, the younger reaper aiming it so they both can read what’s inside. From a cursory flick through, it’s a portfolio detailing Eric’s parents and even a profile of a young Eric. Skimming the page, he points to the word ‘status’ at the bottom of the page, “removed.” he says.

“Removed.” Ronald repeats. “What’s that mean?”

“I’m not sure. I wasn’t even aware Eric had ties to this place.” he closes the folder and removes the recorder. There’s a tape inside and he glances at Ronald before playing it:

“Is this really necessary?”

“Yes. If you’re going to leave me, leave this town, then you will formally declare it yourself for all to hear.”

“Rebecca–”

“Say it. Tell everyone what you’re doing. Tell everyone that you are forcing another family to use their second born because you are taking your first away from here.”

There’s a sigh, the man on the tape sounds agitated, like he’s holding back his proper anger, “Fine. My wife and I are takin’ our son and leavin’ this place for good.”

“Names. Do it again and be more direct about who you are. We will need to use you as an example, after all.”

“Ye got what you wanted.”

“Again.” the woman’s voice drops lower, threatening.

There’s another sigh and the sound of a creaking floorboard. “I–” the tape cuts out, “–Slingby and my wife–” the tape cuts out again, “–Slingby, are taking our son, Eric Slingby, away from Haven.”

“And you are prepared to deal with the consequences?”

“Aye…aye, we are. We’ll doing anythin’ to get Eric out of this hellhole.”

“And you will suffer, I hope you know. You will incur the wrath of our Star.”

The tape ends there, leaving an even more uncomfortable silence in its wake, Ronald subconsciously biting his inner cheek. “Eric…lived here? His parents ran away with him?”

“It seems so.” he glances back at Eric’s profile. “Removed. They removed him from Haven. The death of his parents has always been a mystery to those that still remember what happened, but to have some answer now…it’s disconcerting.”

Ronald looks at William, “I’ve heard about it, but I’ve never heard what actually happened. Like, from someone who does remember. What really happened to them?”

William sighs. “I was far too young to recall any of that for myself, but what I do recall, is my father and mother lamenting the tragedy some years later, before I came to London.” he reclips the tape recorder to the file and tucks it back into the filing cabinet drawer. “It was bloody. Supposedly, when they were found, the entire room was covered in it, but what made their death’s all the more suspicious, or interesting depending on who you ask, was the very fact there were no wounds, yet their bodies were completely drained.”

“No…wounds?”

“Not a single one. No scratch, no bites, no slashes or tears. Nothing, but upon hearing that tape, I have no doubt this ‘Star’ of theirs, was the culprit, meaning whatever entity this being is, it certainly is not another reaper, or even the Board.”

Ronald clutches tighter to the light. “So…what’s that mean for us? Are we gonna suffer like that too?”

“No.” William shakes his head. “It means, if we keep following these clues, we’ll be able to find a way home.”

Ronald shudders. “I don’t like this place. It’s not like I liked it before, but I really don’t like this place now.”

“I agree, but now we have another room at our disposal.” he says, gently waving the key in his fingers. “Let’s see what other secrets it has.” Ronald sticks close to William, his anxiety rising after hearing that tape, feeling as if there’s eyes watching them, which considering this place, he wouldn’t be surprised if there was. He tries to remain calm, however, keeping the light affixed ahead of them as they make their way back to their hotel room and to the door directly next to it. William inserts the key into the lock and with a quiet click, the door swings open.

Inside, the room, like all the others, is dreary, dusty, and decayed. However, there’s something new–an old desk with a telegraph machine resting on top. “I haven’t seen one of these in ages,” William comments, stepping forward to examine the machine. The wires are frayed, and the brass components are tarnished with age. “Wow. It looks so old,” Ronald remarks, his voice filled with awe as he takes in the vintage machine.

“It appears to be, yes,” William agrees, his eyes scanning the desk further. He opens the drawers, sifting through old papers and forgotten objects. When he reaches the bottom drawer, something catches his eye–a morse code decoder. The sight of it immediately reminds him of the pattern he had written down back in the hospital. He folds the decoder carefully and slips it into his pocket. “Right, let’s search the rest of the room. Maybe there’s something else here.”

The two split up, each taking their own end of the room. Ronald, who initially thought the telegraph machine was the only noteworthy item, is surprised when he opens the wardrobe. Inside, he discovers an old, rusted ladder that leads up into a dark space above. He blinks in confusion. “Sir? I found…a ladder.”

“A ladder?” William’s voice carries the same confusion. He strides over to Ronald, eyeing the rusty rungs with suspicion. “That’s…strange.” He examines the ladder for a moment, running his fingers over the corroded metal, clearly puzzled by its presence in the room.

“Oh yeah.” Ronald shines the torch upward, the beam revealing the dark void above. “So…who wants to go first?” He glances at William, his expression almost expectant. “I vote you. The last time I went first, that…thing appeared.”

William nods. “Fair enough.” With a sigh, he steps into the wardrobe and grips the first rung of the ladder. It creaks under his weight, the sound unnervingly loud in the quiet room. For a moment, he hesitates, unsure of its stability, but then, holding his breath, he begins to ascend. Each step protests, the rusted rungs groaning as he climbs, but eventually, he reaches the top.  It’s just as cramped and claustrophobic as the space below, and William quickly deduces he’s probably climbed into another wardrobe. He pats around the walls until he stumbles out through another set of wardrobe doors and into a new room. 

Surprisingly, a lamp is on in the corner, its flickering light offering some relief from the otherwise oppressive darkness. "It's safe, Ronald!" William calls down, his voice echoing slightly in the confined space.

Soon enough, Ronald’s head appears above the edge of the wardrobe, his torchlight casting a wide arc over the room. “Okay, so it’s not the horror show I was thinkin’.”

“Thankfully.” William breathes a quiet sigh of relief as he moves toward the door. He pushes it open carefully, revealing the number 414 on the frame. “We’ve reached the next floor.”

“Great! So, does that mean we can finally get to the room the riddle told us to?” Ronald asks, now standing beside him, his tone tinged with anticipation.

“I’d hope so.” William steps out into the hallway. The familiar gloomy, decayed walls are unchanged, their peeling paint and grimy surfaces resembling the rest of the hotel. The air feels thick, stifling even. “Do you recall what it was?”

“Four-o-seven, I think?” Ronald replies, his voice thoughtful as he glances around the dimly lit corridor.

William looks up and down the hallway, hands resting on his hips. “Well, we’re up here. I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to poke around these other rooms.” As his fingers brush the cool metal of the door handle–an immediate sharp pain shoots through his arm like a red-hot iron, and his hand seizes, throbbing violently. His heartbeat pounds in his ears, pulsing in time with the excruciating ache in his palm. Blood begins to tear, splattering in a slow, steady rhythm onto the floor.

“Sir!” Ronald gasps, his face blanching at the sight. His hands dart out, gripping William’s arm with urgent force, panic spreading across his features.

William stares at his own hand in shock. A jagged shard of metal has pierced straight through his palm, emerging from the lock. In the torchlight, it gleams, slick with his blood. “S-Styx,” he breathes, his teeth gritted together as pain claws through him.

“Can you move it?” Ronald’s voice wavers with barely restrained panic. His wide eyes flick between William’s injury and his face, searching for some sign of reassurance. He swallows hard, trying to calm but considering the spike lodged through William’s hand, it’s easier said than done.

William attempts to flex his fingers, but the pain is too great. He pulls experimentally and that hurts worse as even smaller hooks at the end of the larger spike have embedded into his flesh. His breath hitches and he barely suppresses a wince. “Not easily.”

Ronald tightens his grip on William’s forearm. “Sir…look, this isn’t gonna be that bad, okay? We just need to pull it out. It’s gonna hurt like hell, but it’s better than bein’ stuck here, right?”

William takes a shallow breath; Ronald’s right. There’s no easy way around this. He had thought that the scythe that nearly split his back would be the worst pain he’d ever feel, but this...this fights for the top spot. It doesn’t help that this place makes even the dullest ache feel twisted and unnatural. “Yes,” he says softly, “you’re right.”

Ronald’s eyes flicker with concern as William braces himself, his body taut, preparing for the inevitable. “You want me to count backwards from five?”

“Yes,” William replies, trying to remain calm.

“Okay.” Ronald lets go of William’s arm, shaking out his nerves through his hands. “Okay, let’s do this. Five. Four. Three. Two–”

The sound of tearing flesh rips through the air, sickening and wet. The metal spikes drags through William’s skin, parting it with brutal efficiency, and fresh blood rapidly dribbles to the floor. William instinctively cradles his injured hand to his chest, his eyes squeezing shut against the wave of agony that crashes through him. “Damn it,” his voice falters.

Ronald just stares, his breath shallow, his hands hovering uselessly. For a moment, he’s frozen, unable to comprehend the grotesque sight before him. Then, he snaps out of his stupor, carefully taking hold of William’s injured hand. The wound is deep–jagged skin, torn muscle, and bone fragments visible through the hole; the way the light from the torch shines straight through it is enough to make him queasy. “Is it numb?” he asks, his voice tight with anxiety.

“Yes.” William’s response is quiet, detached, his gaze fixed on the blood dripping from his hand.

Ronald swears under his breath, his eyes darting around the room, searching for anything to wrap the injury with, but there’s nothing. Nothing but dust, darkness, and the silence. His grip tightens slightly on William’s hand, frustration bubbling within him. “Shit,” he mutters, his fingers twitching, as if his touch alone could somehow fix the injury. “We can’t just leave it like this.”

William clasps his good hand around Ronald’s wrist, his grip trying to offer the younger reaper some comfort. “Don’t worry about me. Right now, we have more pressing matters to worry about.”

Ronald stares at him, his expression incredulous. “Yeah, because having a hole in your hand isn’t ‘pressing matters’,” he snaps, jerking his arm away.

William sighs, weariness seeping into his tone. “Getting out of this town is more important, Ronald. I am a reaper. This will heal itself in time.”

Ronald’s jaw clenches, his gaze hardening. “Sir, this place makes us feel human, and I dunno what kinda humans you’ve been lookin’ at, but I’ve never met one that can heal overnight from a bloody hole in their hand.”

William looks down at the gaping wound, the blood still dripping steadily onto the floor. Ronald’s right. This place does make them feel human–fragile, vulnerable. The pain is real here. Things hurt. “I know it’s not ideal,” William sighs.“The moment we get proper rest, I’ll tend to it, alright?”

“Proper rest?” Ronald raises an eyebrow, disbelief written across his face. “What? You expectin’ us to go exploring with you like this?”

“Yes.” William replies without hesitation.

Ronald’s shock grows the more William talks. “No. No. No way in hell are we goin’ on a ‘jolly ol’ grand adventure’ with your hand like that.”

“Knox–”

“You’re not pullin’ the boss card right now.”

William sighs, exasperated. There’s still that tiny bit of energy left in him that wants to fight because he is meant to be the superior but the longer Ronald holds him down with that silent plea in his eyes, William’s shoulders finally slump in resignation. “Then what do you propose?”

“We go back to our room and get this wrapped at least,” Ronald says, leaving no room for any more arguments. His tone is final.

William studies him for a moment, the silence stretching between them, before he finally concedes with a slow nod. “Fine. I…suppose you have a point.”

“Can you even climb a ladder like that?”

“Slowly, but yes.”

“Then let's go.”

As William said, climbing down the ladder with an injured hand is slow, every step is careful, but eventually, they make it back to their room. The moment the door clicks shut behind them, Ronald immediately starts hurrying about the room, rifling through drawers and pockets, trying to find something that could help. William sits on the bed, watching Ronald in attempts to keep his mind off his hand, wincing every now and then as he moves his fingers just a fraction too much.

When he comes up empty handed, Ronald looks down at his jumper, then tugs at the shirt underneath it. “Bugger it.” without a second thought, he tears a strip of fabric.

“Knox.” William frowns, eyeing the makeshift bandage with disapproval. “That’s not–”

“It is.” Ronald interrupts, leaving no room for argument as he starts wrapping up William’s wounded hand. He does his best to be steady and careful, pulling the cloth snug against the injury. “I can always get a new shirt. This though?” he gestures to the wound with his free hand, concern clear on his face, “I’m more worried about it gettin’ infected or somethin’.”

William watches the rough bandaging, feeling a mix of gratitude and frustration at how easily Ronald’s taken charge. He opens his mouth to protest but decides against it. He’s in no position to argue and deep down, he knows Ronald is right. “Thank you.” he says instead, the word more difficult to say then he would have liked, his eyes admiring the patchwork. He tries to move his fingers again and while the pain is still sharp, it’s not unbearable. He rotates his wrist, testing the limits of movement as his palm turns from side to side. “You have a point.” he finally says, his voice softer, “that this place makes us more mortal than we should be, but I still doubt it’ll take overly long to heal.”

Ronald sighs, shifting his weight back slightly on his heels before grabbing the stout bottle from the nightstand. He pops open the cap and shakes out two pills, handing them to William. “Here.” 

William does so eagerly, swallowing the pills with ease. “Thank you. Again.”

“Yeah.” Ronald caps and returns the bottle to its spot before moving to sit beside William on the edge of the bed. His fingers tap rhythmically against the worn covers, the repetitive motion easing some of his nerves. “I hope it doesn't take that long to heal.” he mutters under his breath. “What’d you think this happened?”

William leans back against the headboard, taking slow, deep breaths. His eyelids feel heavy and for a moment, he simply stares ahead. “I can only assume it’s because I tried to open the wrong door.”

“That’s bollocks.” Ronald mutters.

“I wouldn’t say so,” William counters, tilting his head slightly, his gaze drifting to the dim interior of their room. “We have to follow the rules here and I tried to open a door we were not allowed to.”

A silence hangs between them now, neither sure of what to say or if they should say anything at all, but Ronald decides he should be the one to break the awkward air between them. He clears his throat with a cough, then exhales sharply through his mouth. “Hey, um…I’m sorry for snappin’ at you and bein’ so pessimistic about this whole place.”

William shakes his head, his eyelids fluttering as he fights off the sudden exhaustion his entire body feels. “You have no reason to apologise. I understand. It’s not an ideal situation for either of us.”

“Still.” Ronald frowns, rubbing the back of his neck. “You’re right. The least I can do is try and stay positive.”

William’s gaze shifts to the worn floorboards beneath them. “Considering what you believe I told you, I understand why you’re struggling.”

Ronald lets out a tired sigh, leaning back on his hands. “I…I think deep down, I know it wasn’t you, but the only other option means there’s something here that can use your voice and face against me, and that’s even worse.” he pauses, looking down at his lap for a moment before mumbling even quieter, “and maybe…maybe I’m still thinkin’ about kissin’ you.”

William blinks, his mind briefly stalling at the unexpected confession. “You…are?”

“Yeah.” Ronald shifts uncomfortably, avoiding William’s eyes as his cheeks flush with embarrassment. “Never kissed a bloke before, so…”

William’s discomfort grows, his own anxieties tugging at him. “I apologise again. You were so insistent, and I wasn’t sure how to get my point across elsewise.”

“I…I didn’t dislike it, y’know?” His voice catches a little, like the admission is hard for even him to believe, “it was just…different.” he shifts on the bed, his posture stiffer than usual. Knowing that that confession could lead to, he decides it’d be best to quickly change subjects. “So anyway! Uh, you found that decoder thing, right? Maybe we can use it for those dots you wrote down.”

William frowns, knowing exactly why Ronald’s changed the subject but he chooses to let it go. He doesn’t want to push Ronald further into discomfort, instead, he reaches into his blazer pocket with his good hand and offers over the decoder. “Perhaps it might.”

“Well, gotta think positive, right?” Ronald smiles faintly, forcing his usual charming personality back into his voice. He takes the decoder, along with the pen from the nightstand and begins working, concentrating on creating the message. His brows furrowed, his eyes darting between the symbols and the decoder.

Minutes pass, William watching as he continues to fight off the waves of exhaustion. Finally, with a decisive flick of the pen, Ronald sets it down on the bedside table, tapping the paper with his finger. “Got it, I think.” he pauses, finger resting on the paper. “The first letter is K.”

“K?”

“Yep.” Ronald tilts his head, brow furrowing as he considers the letter. “First of what though?”

William rubs his eyes beneath his glasses, a deep sigh escaping him. “I’ve no idea.”

Ronald glances over at him, raising an eyebrow. “Knackered, huh?”

“Very.” William gestures toward his bandaged hand. “This injury is not helping.”

“Yeah, not surprised.” he sets the paper aside, sympathy in his voice, “we’ll pick this up in the morning, right?”

“Right.”

The exhaustion weighs on them both now and they settle into the quiet routine of preparing for bed and eventually, they lie side by side, the faint creaking of the old building replacing the sound of a soothing piano. William stares at his cloth wrapped hand resting on his stomach before closing his eyes. Now that the painkillers have kicked in, he’s on the cusp of sleep but there’s something that just barely keeps him awake.

It’s fear.

He feels Ronald continuing to twist and turn beside him. “Knox?”

Ronald stills, bracing himself as if he’s about to be scolded. “Yeah…?”

“Are you finding it hard to get comfortable?”

Ronald sighs deeply, shifting again. “It’s hard to sleep when that bloody monster keeps showin’ up every time I close my eyes.”

William opens his mouth to offer a suggestion but quickly shuts it when he believes it might be too much for Ronald, but the more the younger reaper continues shifting restlessly, he decides it’d be worth a try. “Would it help if…if I were to…” he sighs, regretting he’d even started that sentence. “Never mind.”

Ronald turns his head, looking sheepish as he does scared. “If you held me…?”

William avoids eye contact, his face warming. “Perhaps.”

Ronald’s own cheeks colour. “I’d, uh…be willing to try.” William remains still long enough that Ronald assumes the offer is off the table, but then, slowly, tentatively, William opens his arm. Ronald shifts towards him, careful at first, then finally rolls onto his side. He pauses, hesitates, before eventually resting his head against William’s chest. At first, William is stiff but gradually, he relaxes, slipping his arm around Ronald’s shoulders. It surprises Ronald how quickly the embrace banishes though nightmarish thoughts. “You’re surprisingly comfy.” Ronald mutters, attempting to lighten the mood.

William raises an eyebrow. “Surprisingly?”

“Yeah. I dunno, just thought you’d be uncomfortable to lie on. Y’know, more solid.”

“Are you calling me soft?”

“Ehhh, something in between, but it’s nice. Comfy.” he hears the scoff but there’s no actual heat behind it. Ronald briefly smiles at that. “It’s…it’s also the first time I’ve been the cudlee and not the cuddler.”

“That, I believe.” William replies, pressing his good hand between Ronald’s shoulder blades, keeping a firm, warm presence there.

Ronald closes his eyes. The steady rhythm of William’s heartbeat beneath his ear is soothing; the rise and fall of his chest is calming, more so than the distant piano melody still lingering in his mind.

Before he realises it, his body unwinds in the warmth of William’s embrace, his thoughts slipping away. If he were awake enough to notice, he’d be surprised, but within minutes, he falls into a deep sleep.

Chapter Text

Eric rolls his shoulder, trying to ease the now dull but persistent throbbing he feels in it. He knew returning home after an incident with a couple of demons would invite questions from his lover but thankfully, Alan bit his tongue when it came to chastising him. He merely sat quietly in the corner of the hospital room while Eric got patched up, the older reaper realising he had more wounds then he suspected, including a nasty one to his shoulder. Eric just stared at Alan the entire time, eager to tell his partner what he’d learned but of course, that was a conversation Alan wasn’t willing to have until the next day. “Rest first and then you can tell me everything. Right now, you look like shite luv.” which is fair. He felt it.

The couch is where he sits now, slowly coming to realise that the home is awfully empty considering he was under the impression they were meant to be housing two other reapers. Reapers he’d yet to see today. Callum made sense at least, he was working for Eric, but Kimiko? Where was she? “How are you feeling?” Alan asks, offering him a cup of warm tea.

“Been better but been worse.” he replies, accepting the cup, sighing contentedly as the porcelain warms his hands.

Alan frowns at him. “You’re lucky you weren’t stuck in hospital. The look on your face when the doctor was taking the tally of all your injuries tells me you didn’t even know how bad they were.”

“I may ‘ave thought there were less than there was.”

“Obviously.”

Eric waggles his finger at Alan. “Don’t go pointin’ fingers lad. How many times have ye refused to get checked up on after the thorns?”

Alan rolls his eyes. “The smaller attacks don’t leave any lasting impact.”

“That ye know of. If I wanted to, I’d have carried ye down to get ye looked at, but, I was bein’ a good husband and let ye walk it off instead. So don’t try makin’ me feel shite for thinkin’ I could handle a few demons with minimal injury.”

Alan almost rolls his eyes again but instead, he chooses to sit next to Eric, taking Eric’s free hand into his own. “Fine. I’ll keep quiet for now, but be more careful at the least, alright? Especially in Haven. If this place is as bad as I think it is, who knows what sort of danger you could put yourself in.”

Eric lifts his and Alan’s hand to his mouth, kissing the back of it affectionately, meeting Alan’s eyes. “I promise hen.”

“Good.” Alan mutters with a faint blush on his cheeks, still so susceptible to Eric’s gentlemanly affections. “Now,” he says, tucking his leg underneath himself as he gets comfortable, “tell me what happened.”

Eric puts his arm around Alan’s shoulders, explaining the feelings he had while walking through Haven, but more importantly, what Kimiko told him. The look on Alan’s face (his mouth slightly open and eyes wide with his brows raised) is exactly how he felt. “You…what? She took you to your old family home?!”

“She did.”

“And…and how did you feel about it?”

Eric shrugs. “Can’t say. Didn’t remember much about it but there was somethin’ that told me not to enter it. Dunno if it was because it was old and looked ready to collapse or because there was somethin’ lurkin’ inside, but I didn’t get a good feelin’ from it. I mean, aye, subconsciously, I think, I remembered it, but my consciousness right now doesn’t remember shite.”

Alan rubs his hand over his forehead, “I’m glad because if you had somehow been killed by entering that house, I’d find some way to revive you just to kill you again myself.”

Eric chuckles. “I know ye would hen.”

Alan breathes out, crossing his arms as he runs through everything else that Eric’s just told him. “I can’t believe Kimiko and Callum wanted to take you in. That you knew William as a baby.”

“Aye.”

Alan leans back against the couch. “I…I can’t even imagine how life would have been if you were raised as William’s brother.” he looks back at Eric. “And Kimiko said this woman’s name was Rebecca? That they witnessed a ritual taking place?”

“Also yes.”

Alan shivers, nibbling on his lower lip. “How the hell is this place so shrouded in mystery when it’s clearly so…evil? Surely there has to be some documentation of it. Something the Board isn’t trying to hide.”

“If the mortal realm can do that, so can ours.” Eric reminds him.

“I…suppose. You’re right.”

Eric puts his hand on Alan’s thigh, rubbing it comfortingly as he takes another sip from his tea. “Before I say anythin’ else, where’s Kimiko gone?”

“She said she wanted to talk to Callum about something.”

“I wonder what about.”

Alan would believe Eric’s just curious if he hadn’t said it with such distrust in his voice. “What happened?”

Eric glances over his shoulder as if to double check that he and Alan were alone before facing his husband again. “There’s somethin’ weird about Kimiko and I’m sure somethin’ weird about Callum too.”

“Weird?”

“Aye. I feel like she’s hidin’ something from me. That she knows more than she’s lettin’ on. When I asked if Spears had ever been to Haven, she never directly answered me and got real angry when I suggested he could have been.”

Alan lifts up his knee, wrapping his arms around it. “Why would she lie? I’m sure any mother would be appalled to be accused of bringing their child to such an awful place.”

“See tha’s the thing. She never outright told me she didn’t.”

Alan thinks about it for a minute. “I suppose that is strange then.” he tilts his head. “What else do you think she, or rather, they, are hiding?”

“Can’t say for certain about that, I just have that feelin’ that they have more answers then they’re tellin’ us.”

As if he was no longer allowed to speculate, the door to their home opens, allowing Kimiko to step in. Right away, her attention is on Eric but her gaze only appears to be concerned as she looks him over. “Good morning.” she greets, closing the door behind her. “How are you feeling, Eric?”

“Alright.”

Alan glances between him and Kimiko before sliding off the couch to stand up. “Would you like some morning tea? I made Eric some and I have some left over if you wanted.”

“Tea would be lovely, thank you Alan.” Kimiko says with a bow of her head before coming to sit on the loveseat parallel to the couch. “I am pleased to hear you’re alright. I have to admit, you fight better than I assumed you would, especially being surrounded as you were.”

“Had to prove I can hold me own around someone like you.”

“And you did. I also hope I did not cause you any distress by bringing you to your old home.”

Eric shakes his head. “Ye didn’t. It was surreal, absolutely, but I still can’t remember anythin’ about that place.”

“Would you go back?”

Eric shifts on the couch, straightening his back as the question almost, almost, sounds desperate. “Dunno. Callum told me stayin’ there for too long would be a bad idea. Said it still wasn’t safe.”

Kimiko’s lips twitch into a slight frown. “Because it’s not.” she agrees. “At least, on the reaper side, it is not. What demonic energy should have stayed in the mortal realm, has bled into ours, infecting those grounds to a disturbing degree.”

Eric takes a few more sips from his tea, trying to understand what feels so wrong about her this morning. “Ye know, Kimiko, just from the way we were talkin’ yesterday, I gotta say, I feel like ye know more then yer tellin’ me.”

“I do not.”

Her reply comes far too quickly for Eric to believe her. So he is being lied to, but why? What isn’t he meant to know? “Aye. ‘Course ye don’t.” he finishes off his drink, then leans forward, placing the delicate cup on the coffee table. “What’d you want to talk to Callum about?” he questions, crossing his arms.

“We were discussing if it would be worth the risk to visit Haven again on a more long term basis.”

“Would it?”

“I’m sure you know the answer. Our son and your friend are still stuck behind the veil. It’s in our best interest to get them home as soon as we can rather than let them slowly succumb to that place.” She leans forward, her hand reaching for his arm but he shifts away from her. She’s clearly surprised by that as she retracts her hand, but she doesn’t comment on it. “You should join us. Ronald, yes? I’m sure he would be ecstatic to hear the voice of someone he knows.”

Eric drums his fingers on his arm. “Lass, didn’t ye hear me? Callum said it wouldn’t be a good idea fer me to stay there too long. I want them home as much as anyone, but why would I risk meself like that? Especially, if Callum goes, someone needs to take care of Spears’ position, let alone be here for my husband?”

“I…yes. I suppose you have a point.”

“Here you are Kimiko.” Alan says as he returns with a cup of tea for her. “I wasn’t sure what you liked in it, so I just added some sugar and a dash of cream.”

“That is fine, thank you Alan.” she nods as she accepts the cup. “You are still on medical leave, correct?”

Alan sighs, taking his spot next to Eric again. When Eric wraps an arm around his middle from behind, pulling him closer to Eric’s body, it should feel like a normal embrace, but something about it feels oddly protective for some reason. “I am.” he answers, glancing up at Eric then back at Kimiko. “William needs to sign my return form before I’m able to make myself useful again.” he jokes.

“A shame. I’m sure Callum would be able to sign it for him.”

“Doubt it.” Eric comments. “If that were the case, as acting supervisor, I’d have signed the form myself.”

“Forgive me Eric, but Callum’s name does carry a little more weight with them.”

Eric pulls Alan just that little bit closer. “Aye. I guess that’s true.”

Alan looks between them again, wondering where this tension is coming from. Eric’s already mentioned believing her and Callum are keeping secrets, but is he really that certain he’s willing to put a wedge between them and William’s parents? “Ah, well, what’s the plan now?”

“Callum and I will return to Haven in a search of our own.”

Eric raises an eyebrow. “Yer serious about that then? Just the two of ye?”

“We have little other options.”

“And if Spears somehow gets back and his parents are gone?”

“I would rather we tried than sat idly by.”

Alan looks between them again, sinking further into Eric’s embrace. Clearly, something happened between them while he was making tea, and he’s afraid to ask what.

********************

Ronald is the first to wake the next morning. His eyelids flutter open, adjusting to the dim, grey light filtering through the dusty windows. Blinking, he realises that at some point during the night, he’d sprawled across most of the bed, leaving William barely a sliver of mattress to cling to. Frowning, he sits up, reaching over to gently pull William back onto the bed.

The touch startles William awake; he jerks, his shoulders tensing as his eyes snap open only to immediately start glaring at whoever dares touch him. He’s defensive, clearly ready to tell them off until recognition settles in and his expression softens as his memory catches up. “Knox?” his voice is thick with sleep.

Ronald offers a sheepish grin, even if William can’t see it. “Sorry sir, but, I kinda hogged the bed last night.”

William glances around, rubbing his face with his good hand, as if trying to rub the fog from his mind. “Ah. Well, thank you for making sure I didn’t fall off said bed.”

“Yeah, no problem.” He sits cross-legged next to William, looking down at the bandaged hand that William rests on his stomach again. “How’s your hand?”

William squints down at it, experimentally flexing his fingers. He hisses through his teeth as pain flares up each finger despite the pain being duller than yesterday. “It’s fine.”

Ronald raises an eyebrow. “Yeah? That looked like anything but fine. C’mon sir, be honest with me, like you said you would.”

William tries to flex his fingers again only to receive the same result. “I’m sure you can tell it’s still rather painful.”

“Should we take a look at it?”

William hestates, pressing his lips into a thin line. He shifts, attempting to roll over to reach his glasses but the movement causes a sharp pang to shoot up his spine. His breath sutters and he immediately returns to his back, squeezing his eyes shut. “I’m…not quite sure I’ll be up for much walking today. Or at the very least, right now.” he admits, frustration clear in his voice.

Ronald frowns. “Your back feels that bad?”

William sighs, rubbing his temple. “I pushed myself far too hard yesterday. Running did not help, nor did pulling you up from the lift shaft.”

Guilt settles in Ronald’s stomach as he stares down at him. Of course William overexerted himself–he’d been the one dragging Ronald up to safety, away from the precarious drop after he hung there for a good minute. He swallows, rubbing the back of his neck. “Sorry…”

“It isn’t your fault Knox.” William tells. He’s clearly still tired but he sounds like he’s trying to be gentle, to assure Ronald there is no blame to place. “I’d rather have a sore back than you crumpled at the bottom of that shaft.”

Ronald shivers at the mental image–vivid and unwelcome. “Yeah…thanks for that.”

“Ah. My apologies.”

Ronald shakes his head, ridding himself of that thought. “Right, well, you’re stayin’ here today, okay? I’ll check out room four-o-seven, see what’s inside.”

William eyes him sceptically. “I thought you preferred not to be alone?”

Ronald shrugs. “When you’re in pain like that and can’t even get outta bed? No offence sir, but, it’s best if you stay put.”

William exhales through his nose, his expression unreadable for a moment. He wants to argue, the words right on the tip of his tongue, but inevitably, he decides against them. “Fine, but I don’t want you wandering too far or for too long, understood?”

“Yeah, ‘course! You’ll need me anyway.” Ronald grins, winking as he swings his legs over the side of the bed, preparing himself for the excursion.

William sighs, watching the blond blur move about the room as he finishes getting ready. A small flicker of unease settles in his chest but he stamps it down, knowing Ronald could take care of himself. Hopefully. If that monster came around, Ronald, at least, had the ability to run. “Be careful.” he murmurs as Ronald heads for the door.

Ronald flashes another grin over his shoulder. “I will sir. Be back soon. Promise.” he leaves after that, slipping back into the room next door, making his way to the wardrobe. The ladder inside waits for him, leading up to the next floor. He’s got the torch and key but being alone makes him feel far more vulnerable than when he’s with William. Still, he has a mission to do, so he shakes off his nerves and grips the first rung, hoisting himself up.

Climbing up the ladder without incident, he feels a little better about doing this on his own, clicking on the torch to give the room another sweep. “Alright Ronald, you can do this. You gotta make up for being such a bellend yesterday.” he tells himself as he exits the room. Despite the curiosity of wanting to explore the other rooms, he doesn't want the same thing to happen to him that happened to William, so he keeps his hands to himself. That’s made even easier as he passes by the door that put the hole in William’s hand. The weapon is still protruding from the lock on the doorknob and William’s blood that stains the metal almost looks like rust. “I really wish I coulda done more to help sir.” he sighs before returning to his mission, grip tight on the torch and walking straight ahead.

When he finds room four-o-seven, he pauses for a moment, debating with himself for a moment. He glances at the key, then at the door, worried this might be a trick to have him injured as well, or even worse, that they got the riddle wrong. He sucks in a deep breath, holding it as he quickly taps the doorknob, instantly yanking his hand away, prepared for another spike. Nothing happens. He taps it again, lingering a little longer but when nothing continues to happen, he slowly releases the breath he’d been holding as he slowly inserts the key. It fits perfectly. It turns without effort and once it’s unlocked, he pushes the door open, immediately sweeping the light across the room. To his surprise the room is pristine. Untouched. Unlike the rest of the building–hell, the entire town–it looks new, as if time itself never laid a hand on it. “Wow.” Ronald breaths, daring to take a step inside. “Maybe we can switch rooms.”

Once he’s fully inside, he takes a moment to really drink it all in. The furniture gleams under the light, the bedding is crisp, the air lacks the musty staleness clinging to the rest of the hotel. If he didn’t know any better, he’d say this was some kind of high-end suite, one you’d have to ask for specifically. Then again, this wasn’t just some room, was it? They had to solve a riddle to find the door for its key.

First things first, he checks the wardrobe. Compared to last night’s discovery, this one holds nothing particularly interesting–not even a ladder. Just clothes and shoes: a few dress shirts, a blazer, a couple of dresses with dress shoes and heels neatly arranged along the bottom. Well, nothing particularly exciting to anyone besides Ronald who runs the fabric of the blazer between his fingers, “oh that’s nice. Pretty damn expensive too.” It reminds him of his own suits, the ones he has custom ordered and Italian made, tailored to fit him like a glove, much like his favourite oxfords–ridiculously pricey but worth every penny.

He shuts the wardrobe and moves to the bedside table. The first drawer holds nothing of interest, but the second, however, makes him pause. There’s a watch and not just any watch, it looks exactly like the one that was stolen from him. He picks it up, turning it over in his hand, the litch catching the glass face, which of course, shows the time to be eight. “What the hell’s this doin’ here?” he asks himself. It doesn’t make sense. This entire town is a wasteland, abandoned and looted, yet this–this–was still here? Why would scavengers overlook something like this? His curiosity gets the better of him as he sets the torch on the bed and fastens the watch around his wrist. It fits perfectly. “Weird.”

“It looks marvelous on you.”

Ronald jumps nearly a foot in the air, his heart leaping straight into his throat. He spins around with cat-like reflexes, prepared to fight. Instead, William stands there, watching him with a placid expression. “Bloody hell sir! A warning woulda been nice!”

William offers a small, apologetic smile. “I apologise.”

“You better! Styx.” Ronald presses a hand to his chest, trying to calm his hammering heart. “What’re you doin’ up here? I thought we agreed you’d rest for today.”

“I rested. The pain eased enough for me to get up as well as the added effect of the painkillers I took.” William replies too easily.

Something’s off.

Ronald’s instincts tell him that, as a strange feeling creeps up his spine, watching William carefully. He looks the same, sounds the same, but…something is wrong. “With how bad you looked, kinda surprised you’re okay as you are.”

“I promise, I am fine.”

Ronald shifts from one foot to the other, not completely believing the other man. “Can I ask for our safe word?”

William tilts his head slightly. “Oh?”

“Please?”

There’s a pause, a flicker of something in William’s expression and then, an understanding nod. “You’ve done well today, Knox.” Ronald gets the answer he was hoping to hear, but for some reason, it doesn’t settle him. 

He shakes his head, chalking it up to that fight William had just given him. “Okay. Good to hear.” he sighs, then looks back at his wrist. “So, you like the watch?”

“I do. It looks quite like your old one.”

“That’s what I thought.”

“You should take it.”

“Take it?” Ronald looks back at William. “I mean, it’d be nice to have my watch back, but,” he starts unlatching it, “I’m not gonna take something that’s not mine.”

William’s hand closes around his, stopping him. “Keep it, Ronald. What’s the point of letting it waste away when a handsome young man, like yourself, could be wearing it?”

Ronald looks at their hands then back at William. He asks himself, ‘would William say that?’ but clearly, he would since it’s coming from William’s own mouth and yet...“uh, yeah. Sure. Thanks.”

William steps back, as though he knows he crossed a line. “Have you found anything else?”

“Just the watch and some clothes but nothin’ that warrants this room bein’ any more special than the others.” he gestures to the interior of the room, “besides the fact it looks brand new.”

“It looks like it, doesn’t it?” William runs his hand over the bed. “Strange.”

“Like this entire town is.”

“Indeed.”

Ronald tries to subtly put space between himself and William, checking out the rest of the room but he continues to find nothing of interest until he gets on his hands and knees to check under the bed. “Hey, look at this.” he says, pulling out a suitcase.

To his surprise, William actually lays across the bed, looking down at what Ronald’s found. “Hm. I wonder what’s inside.”

Ronald sits back on his heels. “You okay sir?”

“Of course. Why do you ask?”

“Well…that.” he gestures to how William’s lying, “seems a little too…casual for you.”

“Lying down is meant to ease the tension on one’s back, yes?”

“I mean, yeah. I guess.”

“Then I’m simply keeping myself relaxed.”

Ronald eyes him but chooses not to ask any more questions. “Sure.” he returns his attention to the suitcase, unlatching the lid and popping it open. Much to Ronald’s disappointment, the only thing inside is a class photo. He lifts out the frame, looking at all the blank faced children lined up for the picture but there is only one child whose face is completely blacked out. “This is creepy…feels like I’m looking at kids lined up for slaughter, you know?”

He turns the picture toward William and the other reaper scans the picture himself. “You have a point. Flip it over.” Ronald does and on the back of the frame is written, “class nine of Haven Elementary.”

“Class nine? Like Year Nine?”

“I cannot say.” William’s brow furrows. “And that was all that’s inside?”

“Yep.”

“Even stranger.”

Ronald continues to examine the photo, eventually noticing there’s a room name behind the child without a face. It’s hard to make out since it’s a blur like the rest of the background is, but he can just barely read it, “looks like it says…” he squints a little more, “room four-three, I think?” he looks at William. “I’m gonna guess this is the next place we should go. So, you think you’re up for lookin’ for a school?”

William pushes himself off the bed, rolling his shoulders, “I believe I’ll be capable of doing so, yes.”

“You sure?”

“Yes, Knox.”

“Okay, okay.” he stores the photo back in the suitcase then looks at the watch still on his wrist. He knows he shouldn’t take it, but would it really be that bad if he did? William did have a point–no one else was here, so why put it back? Deciding to keep it, he grabs the torch and looks at William. He makes the split second decision to shine the light at him, blinding him the exact way William did to him back in the hospital. 

“Knox.” William winces, immediately using his hand to block the light.

“Just checkin’.” he isn’t even sure if light would do anything to William if he was some sort of…well, not William, but he feels better when he reacts the way he expected William to. “Be nice if we had a map.” he comments, walking out of the room.

“I had one in my car, but I’m unsure if it would even account for Haven.”

“I doubt it considering, y’know, no one’s heard of this place.” As he turns to walk back to the room with the ladder, he’s confused to see William walk down the hall in the other direction. “Uh, sir? Where are you going?”

“The stairwell.”

“Why? It’s blocked, remember?”

“The blockage has been removed.”

“Really?”

“Indeed.” he raises his injured hand, “it’s far more convenient for me.”

“I’d say.” Ronald jogs up to him. “Lead the way then.” so William does and sure enough, the blockade is gone. The stairwell is now completely clear. “Huh? How?”

“I’d rather not question something that benfiest us.” William tells him, already making his way down the stairs.

“You know, good point.” following William again, Ronald tries to keep a close eye on him. There’s still something about William he doesn’t like, but he can’t quite place his finger on it. He’s acting just how he expected William to, yet at the same time, it’s as though someone else is inhabiting him. His eyes, his posture, the cadence of his words, all of it is unmistakably William. He even had William’s memories and the safe word, so then, it must be William, right? “How’s your hand?” Ronald asks when they reach the lobby.

“The painkillers are still working on both that and my back, thankfully. While moving my fingers is still a task, it doesn’t hurt as much as it used to.”

“Well, that’s good.”

As they exit the hotel, the thick fog has lifted again, revealing the street ahead. The air feels cooler, and the atmosphere more oppressive, as if it’s waiting for something to happen. They look down either end of the street. “Right, so the hospital was that way,” William says, gesturing down the road one way, “and we entered Haven that way,” he points the other direction. “So where would the school be?”

“Well, we could continue down to the hospital. There’s gotta be a branching path there, right?” he asks, turning off the torch and clips it on his belt, “I mean, this is a town, so there should be some houses or something.”

“A good guess as any, I suppose.”

They walk in silence as they venture down the street, the cracks of the asphalt acting as if leading them where they need to go. There’s the distant sound of wind whistling through the cracked windows of the old buildings and the air is thick with tension that Ronald can’t shake; something is watching them but obviously, there’s nothing but empty streets that are stuck in time.

Ronald eventually points to a new road and they start their walk down it. This street feels different–narrower, more intimate, and less abandoned. It seems to lead into the suburbs, with old, faded houses peeking through the overgrown hedges and at the end of the street, almost hidden by the mist, stands the school.

They stop at the gated entrance, the large iron gates imposing and rusted with age, their twisted bars almost reaching out like skeletal fingers. Behind them stands an old, rustic school, its stone walls weathered by years of neglect, but its most striking feature is the large bell tower, looming high above the rest of the building, like a silent guardian watching over the forgotten place. “Wow.” Ronald mutters, almost in awe. “This reminds me so much of the academy.”

“Does it?” William asks, eyes locked on the bell tower.

“I mean, look at it sir.” Ronald rubs the back of his neck, voice betraying his nerves, “I don’t…I don’t like it. Brings back bad memories.”

William shifts his focus to Ronald. “Your mother?”

“Yeah. Like I said, when she kicked me out, this was the only place I could go that offered any type of shelter.” It's like he can hear his mother again, screaming at him, telling him that he was worthless, that he didn’t deserve the kindness she gave him. “I know we gotta go in there, but…”

“I am deeply sorry she did that to you, Ronald.” William’s voice is soft as he places his hand on Ronald’s back, “you deserved better.”

Ronald slowly side steps away from William, his skin prickling at the touch. A hand on the shoulder was one thing but the one on his back feels far too intimate. The air between them shifts, and he clears his throat, hoping to ease some of that sudden tension. “Let’s just get going. The sooner we find this classroom, the sooner we can leave. Hopefully.”

“Of course.” William’s voice is calm, but there's a hint of something unreadable in his eyes.

Ronald takes a deep breath and pushes on the gates; they creak and groan, the rusted hinges protesting. The stone path leading up to the school doors is cracked and overgrown, the grass wild and untamed, pushing through the gaps in the stone. Weeds sprout between the cracks, their vibrant green a stark contrast to the decaying surroundings. Each step Ronald takes feels heavier, as though the very ground beneath him is reluctant to let him pass.

When they reach the door, it opens with a groan, the hinges echoing through the empty hallways inside but what surprises Ronald isn’t the creaky door–it’s the sudden burst of life that fills the air. Just like the diner, the school comes alive. The sounds of children’s laughter and the murmur of classrooms fill the air, as if the school is running during a busy school day. The smell of chalk and old books lingers in the air, faint but distinct, and the walls seem to hum with a strange, unnatural energy. “Are you seeing this?” Ronald asks as he looks at William, both of them frozen at the threshold of the building.

“I am.” William replies, his gaze sweeping over the strange scene. The halls are bathed in a warm orange light, as if there’s a setting sun just outside their windows when for all they’ve seen, it’s been nothing but a dim, grey sky. “What causes this shift in reality?” he asks more to himself than Ronald.

“That’s what I wanna know.” Ronald mutters, eyers dating from the strange, almost welcoming hallways, to the vibrant and active classrooms.

“I have not see you around here before. State your name and your reason for stepping onto school grounds during school hours.”

Their attention snaps to a rather stern-looking man who seems to have materialised from what shadows were left. His presence is commanding, his clothes impeccable–much like William’s. Actually, there’s quite a lot that reminds him of William in this man, right down to the shape of his face, but as he glances at William, to see if there’s any sign of recognition on the older reaper’s face, he finds WIlliam looks just as startled and baffled as he feels. “Uh, well, hi! Names Ronald and of course you haven’t seen me during school hours because, ah, I’m usually here after.” he forces a smile, trying to ooze charisma like he does at work. “See, I’m the janitor here and as I was going home for the day, I realised I’d lost something while doing my job. So, if ti’s not too much trouble, I’ll just head on over to the classroom where I lost my…keys and I’ll be out of here in no time.”

There’s a very long pause as the man stares at Ronald and William feels William’s eyes on him as well and he thinks he’s about to be physically thrown out of the building, when the man finally sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You are aware you’ll be disrupting a class?”

“Yep. I am and I am so sorry, but can’t go home without my keys, heh.”

“What room then?”

“Four-three?”

The man exhales sharply, as if it’s a chore to deal with this at all. “Fine, but do be quick. I do not appreciate disruptions in my school.”

“Yep! Don’t worry! Will be in and out before you can even say ‘Ronald’.” he grabs William’s wrist with a little more force than necessary and yanks him past the other man, wanting to get as far away from him as quickly as possible. “I thought you were intimidating, but that guy? It’s like he doesn’t have a soul.”

“I must agree. He’s…unsettling.” William’s voice matches the unease Ronald’s feeling.

“Yeah, you can say that again.”

“He’s unsettling.”

Ronald almost laughs. This really had to have been William then. He’d said the same joke before and he feels like that’s the only type of humour William has, considering he looks like he finds jokes to be a waste of time. No one could guess that by just looking at William. At least, he hoped no one could.

When they find the room they were looking for, they hear muffled sounds behind the classroom door; a teacher lecturing her students, the quiet hushed whispers of delinquents muttering away thinking the teacher won’t hear them, the scrape of chairs against the floor. “Ready?” he asks, glancing back at William, to which he answers with a nod.

Ronald steels himself and knocks on the door. The moment the knock resonates in the still air, the classroom falls silent. A beat passes before a voice calls from inside, “yes?”

“Hi there,” Ronald begins, trying to act professional, “uh, I’m the janitor and I dropped my keys in this classroom while I was cleaning, so I was hopin’ I could jot on in and grab them?”

The seconds drag on, the silence feeling like an eternity rather than the few seconds she replies in. “Fine. You may come in.” she responds, her voice flat and clearly annoyed.

Ronald takes a moment before opening the door, preparing to greet the woman and her class but the moment the door opens, the world shifts. What was once a lively and pristine classroom is now a dilapidated version of itself. The wallpaper is peeling, revealing layers of old paint beneath, the floorboards groan underfoot, warped from years of neglect. The desks are scuffed, their surfaces scratched and worn, the posters on the walls torn or faded beyond recognition. “Now this,” Ronald mutters, surveying the room, “was what I was expecting.”

“Indeed.” William comments, running his fingers over one of the desks, picking up a fine layer of dust. “I do have to question what exactly we’re looking for here.”

“Yeah that makes two of us.” William takes the teacher’s desk to rifle through while Ronald starts down the aisle between the rows of student’s desks. He lifts each top, but he’s found nothing even remotely useful. They’re all empty and if they’re not, there’s only pencils and old papers inside. He thinks this idea may have been a fruitless endeavour, thinking he got something wrong but just as he’s about to suggest to William they leave and try elsewhere, he comes to the last desk by the window. There’s a strange symbol carved into it. It’s circular in shape with, if he recalls right, the alchemical symbol for salt being what in cases a branching tree with withered, dead roots. “Hey sir, come look at this.”

William joins him by the desk, tracing the symbol with his fingers. “Strange. I’ve never seen something like this before.”

“Me either.” so he lifts the top of the desk and inside, is a black and white photo. There’s a woman and a man, along with that faceless child and a newborn cradled in the woman’s arms. There’s another child in the picture as well, a head taller than the faceless boy, but he doesn’t quite look like he belongs with them. His hair is a darker shade, his face a bit more angular and his eyes are sharper. It’s then Ronald recognises that face. “Woah…sir, that’s the face that scared me outta the diner.”

William looks at him with astonishment on his face. “It was?”

“Yeah…at least, I’m pretty sure it was.”

William studies the photo closely, trying to see if there’s anything of interest in the background, but unlike the class photo, there is not. “Is there anything on the back?”

Ronald flips the photo, revealing a message scrawled on the back: The third letter is O. Under that is another riddle, one Ronald reads aloud. “He stands above the single school, a shepherd bound by written rule. His voice is law, his hand is firm, yet buried deep, his secrets squirm.” he glances at William. “Almost sounds like you.”

“Well I can assure you, it is not. In fact, it sounds more like a principal.” William suggests, cupping his chin with his hand. “What other being could be considered a ‘shepherd’ within a school?”

“I guess that makes sense.” he folds the photo and puts it into his trouser pocket. “That’s probably the next place we gotta go then.”

“Seems so.”

Ronald follows William out of the classroom, taking up the torch again and flicking it on. The hallway feels like it stretches for ages on both sides, even with the light cutting through some of that darkness. He gestures to take the right and now William follows him, their footsteps echoing through the empty halls.

As they pause to deliberate right or left when they come to another crossroads, the air suddenly shifts. Ronald tenses immediately, flicking the light in either direction until he hears it. The creak and crack of joints snapping. His body goes cold and he spins around as fast as possible.

That very same creature that’s hunted him since he found the locket, is standing just behind William. It’s a blur of shadows and sharp angles, the thing’s body contorted in ways that defy logic. Ronald’s heart skips a beat, and he shouts, “William!” William barely turns to see what has Ronald so terrified, but it’s already too late.

The creature strikes with terrifying speed. In one swift motion, William’s head is severed from his body. Ronald watches in stunned horror, his body locked in place as William’s head falls to the ground with a sickening thud, his body following shortly after, crumpling to the floor. The severed head rolls towards him, its cold, lifeless eyes staring directly at him as it bumps into his shoe.

The shock is too much. Ronald’s mind reels, his vision blurring as his body gives way to the overwhelming wave of dizziness. His knees buckle, and he crumbles to the floor, his head spinning. The last thing he sees before everything goes black is the sight of William’s head, staring at him with an expression that seems almost mocking in its lifelessness.

And then, there’s nothing but darkness.

********************

He gasps awake, hardly aware he’d even dozed off in the first place. The room is quiet, and as he lays there, gathering his bearings, he knows there’s not a single other soul in the room with him. He groans, rubbing his face with his good hand, trying to chase off that sickly feeling that comes from having an unexpected nap. When Ronald left, he told himself he’d lie there for a few minutes, let the painkillers work their magic, then force himself up to join Ronald, but in the end, when the pain dulled, he drifted back to sleep. Now, he forces himself to reach for his spectacles as he sits up, shoving them on his nose, the world snapping back into clarity. He rolls his shoulders, then looks down at his hand, trying to bend his fingers. It still bloody hurts.

He holds his breath as he unwraps his hand, inspecting the damage. Unsurprisingly, it’s not healing as it should; there’s still a clear hole straight through his palm. The edges of the wound are the only parts that seem to be regenerating even the slightest, as the skin is pale pink in colour. Sighing, he wraps his hand, deciding he’d best get up and dressed. Ronald isn’t back yet, which worries him.

Just as he pulls his turtleneck over his head, frowning at the blatant bloodstain on it, the door opens and he’s relieved to see it’s Ronald who looks no worse for wear. “There you are.” he comments, pulling on his blazer. “I was beginning to worry about you.”

“Sorry. Didn’t think it’d take that long.” Ronald says, approaching him. “I didn’t find anything either.”

William frowns. “Nothing at all?”

“Nope.”

William cups his chin, thinking. “Odd. Why would there be a riddle to a room with nothing in it?”

“Dunno.”

William doesn’t notice Ronald reaching for him, but he flinches when Ronald touches his cheek. Instantly, he knocks Ronald’s hand away. “What are you doing?”

“Huh? Oh, sorry. You just look so pale. I wanted to make sure you weren’t runnin’ a fever or somethin’.”

“I’m fine.” he says sternly. “I see no need for you to touch me.”

“Did I cross a line?”

He wants to say yes because he’s trying to keep that line between them, to maintaining some form of professionalism–even if last night’s cuddling may have blurred that line a bit (he’s choosing to ignore Ronald confessing to still thinking about their kiss) but a touch like that is certainly crossing the line, even if it’s a touch William wants to indulge in. It’s too familiar, too casual, too loving. “Yes. Knox, I am trying to keep–”

“What?” Ronald frowns. “Wouldn’t you wanna test that line just a bit?” he reaches out, pressing his hand against William’s chest. “You can’t tell me you don’t like this.”

“I do not.” William snaps, swatting Ronald’s hand away. “I am well aware you suggested such a thing for you to use, but I am employing it now. What phrase did you want me to tell you so you knew I was me?”

“Oh?”

William narrows his eyes. “Tell me.”

“You’ve done well today Knox.”

William continues glaring at Ronald, eyeing him up and down. “What’s gotten into you then? You certainly weren’t this…” he waves his hand, "affectionate before.”

“Dunno.” Ronald shrugs. “Maybe this place makes me worried we won’t be able to get home where we can really talk about us.”

“I told you, there will be nothing between us. I respected you too much to force, or guilt, you into something and I am not…completely ready for another relationship.”

Ronald frowns at him, then sighs as if disappointed. “I was hopin’ you’d rethink that.”

William steps back, creating space between them. “Our main focus should be finding a way to leave this town.” he crosses his arms. “If you were unable to find anything in that room, then I’m unsure where we go from here.”

“Well, the room mighta been empty, but I did see someone in town.”

William blinks. “You did? Was it Oliver?”

“Someone else.” he gestures to William. “She kinda looked like you a little bit.”

William blinks again, slowly this time. “She looked like me?”

“Yeah.” he jabs his thumb toward the door. “I was on my way back here when, by chance, I looked out the window and saw this woman walkin’ down the road. Ran down to the lobby and outside just to see her turn a corner at the end of the street.”

Surely Ronald hadn’t just seen his mother and if he did, how and why he hell was she here? “Show me.”

So Ronald leads William down the stairs and out the front doors. “She went this way.” he tells him, continuing to lead the way he said he’d seen the woman walk. William is hopeful to see her as well, but if they do, that might mean a way out of this hellish town but the longer he follows Ronald, the more he loses hope that Ronald saw anything at all.

They’ve entered the suburbs now, surrounded by run-down and dilapidated houses and William can’t help but wonder how the hell Ronald knew where he was going, or if he was just guessing at this point. He was walking with purpose, so William believes it’s the former, which leaves him feeling uncertain about the whole thing.

When Ronald finally leads him to wherever he was taking him, he finds the home he’s staring at almost, almost, feels familiar. He knows he’s never seen this place before and yet, something tells him that there’s a far off memory that tells him otherwise. “She went in there.” Ronald says.

“And how do you know that?” William asks, eyebrow raised.

“I…don’t know. Lucky guess?” William eyes him warily before deciding that the chance to get home is worth trusting Ronald. Still, he’s cautious. He slowly pushes open the front door, finding the inside to be more taken care of than any other building in this town. It’s like it’s stuck in time, somehow like it’s both been recently vacated and left abandoned for years. “I could see this place looking pretty nice when it wasn’t, y’know, like this.” Ronald mutters, glancing around at the dust-covered furniture.

“It would.” William agrees, admiring the interior. There are dishes set up in the dining room, a book lying open on the coffee table and a blanket crumpled on the couch. “I wonder who used to live here.” he muses, wandering down the hallway. It seemed any personal photos that once lined the walls or were on display in their frames, had all been thrashed and ripped apart.

“Me too.” Ronald agrees, trailing behind him.

William opens the next door he finds, revealing it to be a study. Bookshelves line the walls and a desk sits in front of a window. As William walks up to the desk, his eyes are drawn to a very crisp, fresh note sitting in the centre of it. Even more curious, is that it’s directed to him:

‘William, my son, I hope this finds you as your father and I have been told Haven has taken you. I wish I would have told you about this place when I had the chance, but know, your father and I will not stop looking for you.’

He blinks as he picks up the note. “Mother?” They were looking for him? If this note was real, then his parents were…searching for him? They knew about Haven? Unexpected emotions rise at both thoughts, not expecting his parents to really care if he’d gone missing or not.

Ronald peers over his shoulder. “That’s from your mum?”

“It…appears to be, yes.” the seconds tick by as he tries to wrap his head around that. “How…how is this here? Why is it so recent?”

“I told you I saw a woman.” Ronald says matter-of-factly.

“Yes, but…how? How was she able to get here and leave when we cannot?” he presses his fingers against his temple, feeling a headache coming on.

“You think your mum would like me?”

William slowly looks at Ronald, feeling that headache getting worse by the second. “I…well, yes. I presume she would. Why?”

“Just curious.” Ronald smiles. “You know, in case  I ever get to meet her.”

William looks away, folding up the note and tucking it into his blazer. “Mmhm. Right.” he steps back. “Why don’t you continue to search downstairs while I check upstairs?”

“Yeah. Can do that.”

“Good.” William leaves Ronald behind and, he hates to admit, he feels a bit relieved. It’s an odd sensation, something he didn’t expect to feel regarding his companion, but there was something wrong with Ronald. He couldn’t exactly say what was wrong, but something certainly was. Still, at the very least, it had to be Ronald, right? He knew the safe word, so, surely it was…

Once he’s upstairs, he tries the first three doors he comes across and of course they're all locked but the fourth door surprises him as it opens almost too easily, like it was welcoming him into the room on its own. Said room looked like it could have been a bedroom with a metal frame and torn mattress propped against the wall and a couple of old boxes pressed against the opposite wall. What really stands out, however, is the large, sheet covered object standing in the middle of the room.

He scans the room before taking a step into it, carefully approaching the object. He holds his breath, a mixture of anticipation and wariness washing over him as he grabs the centre of the sheet and with one mighty tug, he pulls it off. A plume of dust rises from the removal, forcing William to wave his hand in front of himself to dispel the annoying little particles that fly in front of his face but when the dust does settle, he’s startled to be staring at himself. Underneath the sheet was a large, ornate mirror. The metal frame is partly rusted and on each top corner are the heads of horned-like beasts shaped from the frame, mouths open and eyes wide as if stuck in some eternal torment. He wanders around it, trying to see if there was something unique about it, but the back was covered by a black, tar-like, substance that he didn’t dare touch.

As he rounds the back to the front of the mirror, he notices that his reflection returns from the opposite side. Befuddled by that, he raises his right hand, to which his reflection raises the opposite. Then, it begins to move on its own. It positions its hands as if beginning the waltz with an invisible partner, stepping backwards, then to the right, forward, to the left, and back to the centre. William waits, his breath held, and his reflection repeats those steps again.

So, William positions his hands and tries to follow the movement, but he fails. The moment he returns to the centre, he watches, horrified, as an elongated wound spreads diagonally across his face, stopping just at the bridge of his nose. His brows furrowed in confusion, trying to figure out what he did wrong. He tries again, moving slower, more precise, but once again, he’s wrong. This time, the wound grows longer, blood beginning to drip down his face.

He stares at the mirror, frustration building. What does he need to do to pass this strange challenge? He raises his arm again, and once more, his reflection raises the opposite one. “Then, backwards would be forwards and right would be left?” he mutters under his breath. “Or, is backwards, backwards and left, left?” He frowns. He had tried one way, so now, he figures he best try the other.

Taking up the dancing position again, he decides to ignore his instincts to make the mirror work as normal. This time, he does everything in the opposite direction–backwards instead of forwards, left instead of right–but just as he thinks he’s getting it, he makes the wrong move. Almost instantly, another wound appears diagonally on the opposite side of his face, meeting the first one on his nose. He knows that if he messes up one more time, an X will form across his face and he has a strong feeling that means punishment.

Holding his breath, he closes his eyes, focusing on the movements, repeating them once more. He forces himself not to make the same mistake again, concentrating all his energy on getting it right. Slowly, carefully, he moves through the steps, his heart pounding in his chest.

When he comes to a stop for the final time, he opens his eyes, expecting to see the dreaded X across his face but to his brief relief, it doesn’t happen. Instead, the mirror begins to crack, the sound sharp in the silence, before it shatters. He watches the glass shards crumbled to the floor and behind the mirror, is a key. His fingers tremble as he pulls it free from the small string it was attached to, the tag reading: Principal’s Office.

A heavy sigh escapes him as he clutches the key tightly in his hand. Without wasting another moment, he turns, quickly exiting the room then jogging down the stairs, “Knox?!”

“You should have just died.”

William freezes, the words slicing into him like a shard of ice. He closes his eyes, breathing deep and steady as he forces himself to not listen to the voices. You will need to do better than that, I’m afraid.

“Why would I ever love you?”

He winces, but his eyes remain closed. Even worse, you bloody monster.

“I hate you! I’m uncomfortable around you! I don’t want to be with you! You should just die!”

William squeezes his eyes shut down, clutching his hand so tightly, the ridges of the key are starting to dig into his palm. No. You’re just voices, my self doubts. You mean nothing.

“W-William…” the tremble in Ronald’s voice breaths through his defences. His heart skips a beat and before he can stop himself, his eyes snap open, his blood running cold.

The mass of shadow looms behind Ronald, its form swirling and dark, a presence far too real. It stands over Ronald and William’s frozen where he stands. All he can do is watch, helpless, as the shadow leans down, its tendrils reaching for Ronald. They circle around him and slowly, blood begins to dribble from Ronald’s neck. William’s eyes widen in horror as a gash grows wider and wider in Ronald’s throat, blood soon rushing from the wound as Ronald gurgles and ties gasping for air. Their eyes remain locked through the entire thing and William watches the light beginning to fade from them until he collapses to the floor, motionless, in a pool of his own blood. He can’t speak, he can’t even breathe for that moment, until the creature starts looming closer.

He doesn’t think. He just runs.

His legs carry him, his mind pushing aside everything–the terror, the grief, the guilt–as he races for safety. His sole focus is on escaping, leaving behind the body of his fallen companion and the monster that killed him.

It’s not until he bursts through the doors of a school that he realises where he’s ended up. He skids to a halt, looking around the main foyer, eyes frantically scanning the unfamiliar space. He glances behind him, some form of relief flooding through him when he sees that shadow didn’t follow.

He tilts his head back, trying to swallow the panic, forcing down his emotions in order to press on. He looks at the key then, knowing where he needs to go. He then makes a vow to himself that when he finds a way to get back home, he’ll return ready to put an end to that bloody monster with his scythe at the ready.

He wanders aimlessly for a while, checking each floor and finding many of the doors locked while those that aren’t provide no answers. Then, as he reaches the fourth floor, he hears someone running up from behind him. His reaction time makes him to turn just as a torch comes swinging at him like a makeshift club. “Knox!” he gasps, dodging another swing that comes at him.

“I'm not fallin’ for your tricks again!”

“Would you wait a moment?!”

“William’s dead so fuck off!” Ronald cries out, swinging at him again with unbridled rage.

William throws himself backwards, his back slamming against the wall behind him, wincing when pain shoots up his spine, “Knox, I’m not dead!”

“The hell he isn’t!”

Just as Ronald swings at him again with all his anger thrown into the attack, William habitually grabs the weapon with his injured hand. He feels the pain spike down his fingers and his wrist as he holds tightly to the torch. Powering through the agony, he tries his hardest to convince Ronald that he’s real. “Ronald please. Enough. I. Am. Alive. I promise. I promise I am me and not whatever version of me you’ve encountered.”

Ronald still looks unconvinced; his teeth are grit and there’s fire behind his eyes. “I saw him die right in front of me and you expect me to think you’re him?!”

“Yes! Because I witnessed you perish as well and clearly, you haven’t!”

That gets Ronald to slowly calm down, perhaps more out of confusion than realisation, but at least, the rage is subsiding somewhat. “What…?”

“Yes. Yes, I saw your death as well. In fact, how could you have witnessed my own demise if I haven’t been with you in this school?”

“But…you were. You were.”

“How? I fell asleep once the painkillers kicked in and only awoke some time after you left. In fact, you were the one who told me you witnessed my mother in this town and led me to a home where she left me a note.”

“I…huh?” he loosens his grip on the torch, stepping back as he lets that information sink in. “I saw your mum? I…lead you to a house?”

“Yes.” William nods, removing the torch from Ronald’s hand and quickly switching hands then tucking it into his blazer pocket where it weighs heavy and barely fits, but it works for now. “That was my version of events.”

“So…so you weren’t…beheaded?”

Now that is not at all what William expected to hear and for some reason, there’s a sudden ache in his neck that he can’t help but try to rub out. “Beheaded? Goodness…no. No, I was not.”

“So, you are alive?”

William slowly nods. “I am. I promise you.” Before William can say another word, Ronald doesn’t hesitate. He yanks William into a hug, squeezing him so tightly, that William feels the throbbing ache in his back, but he doesn’t care as he secures his arms around Ronald in turn. The warmth of Ronald’s living presence outweighs any pain he might feel.

When they finally part, Ronald swallows, his hands gripping William’s shoulders firmly, as if making sure he’s real under his touch. “I…I’m sorry I tried attackin’ you.”

“I’d rather you defend yourself than fall victim to this place.” WIlliam responds, resting his own hand on Ronald’s forearm. “Even your safe word didn’t work like you hoped it would.”

“Yeah, it didn’t for you…or him? I don’t bloody know.” he shakes his head in frustration before grabbing William’s good hand. “That’s it. I’m not lettin’ you go again. I will handcuff myself to you if I need to, but I’m not letting you outta myself.”

William looks at their intertwined fingers and nods, his eyes serious as he meets Ronald’s just as determined ones. “Agreed. This place seems to feed off us when we’re separated.”

Ronald gives his hand a reassuring squeeze. “Right. So, you said your mum wrote you?”

William nods, showing Ronald the note. “Wow.” Ronald breathes, clearly as shocked as he was. “So, the fake me saw her?”

“I believe he did, yes.” William replies, tucking the note back into his pocket. “And then I found this as if she were here, but I can’t say for certain if she was ro not. This note could very well be a fabrication of this town in order to elicit an emotion from me.”

“Well, let’s stay positive, right?” Ronald says with a forcefully upbeat smile, “maybe she really did write it and maybe that means there’s a way outta here.”

William actually smiles in return, though it’s small and just as forced as his own, but it’s still something. “Yes. You’re right.” He then pulls out the key from his pocket. “I have this as well.”

“Principal’s office? That’s where me and the other you were gonna go check out.”

“Then I suggest we find it.” William says with new found resolve. Ronald nods firmly, squeezing William’s hand once more.

Hand in hand, they continue their search through the school, the atmosphere growing heavier with each step, until they finally come across the Principal’s Office. William takes the key from his pocket, unlocking the door, and they step inside, immediately noticing the disarray. The room looks as though someone had been rifling through everything–papers scattered, drawers half open, just like everywhere else they’ve been. “You know,” Ronald mutters, his voice tinged with frustration as he places his hands on his hips, “I’m kinda tired of finding things without actually getting any answers.”

“As am I.” William agrees, approaching the desk and picking up what would have been the nameplate. It’s scratched all the hell, leaving most of it eligible but William swears he can make out an L, M and E. He sets the nameplate down, now focusing on the framed photos and diplomas on the walls. As he studies them, one of the pictures catches his attention. Standing directly in front of it, he realises it’s the same photo he’d found in the front desk of the hotel, but this version is complete. He sees the faces of the people holding the plaque clearly and even the plaque itself…his heart sinks as he reads it. “Knox, come look at this.”

Ronald moves to stand beside him and when his eyes fall on the photo, his expression switches from mere curiosity to full blown shock. At first, he recognises the man and woman holding the plaque as the man and woman from the photo he’d found in the school desk but when he reads the plaque for himself, his face pales and he automatically grabs William’s arm. “That’s…fake, right?”

“I don’t think it is.” William replies quietly, securing his hand over Ronald’s.

Ronald’s mouth runs dry as he forces himself to read the words aloud, “Haven Hotel founded by Andrew and Rebecca…”

William looks down at Ronald and holds his hands tighter as he finishes the sentence for him, “Knox.”

Chapter Text

Shock ripples across Ronald’s face. His eyes widen and his lips part but no sound escapes as he stares at the photo in disbelief. Knox. It’s plain as day. His family had something to do with this horrid place. His mind struggles to comprehend the many implications of what he’s seeing and for a brief second, it feels like it’s just him, alone, in this dark, cold room. “I…that can’t be right…can it?”

“It doesn’t appear to be modified in anyway.” William observes, keeping his tone calm as he searches the rest of the faces, locking the memory of them away in case any of them appear again.

Ronald swallows hard, his throat dry as dread tightens in his chest. His fingers instinctively reach out for the sleeve of William’s blazer, curling tightly around the older man’s bicep, digging his fingers in, needing that reassurance that William was still here with him. “The…the two with the plaque, I’ve seen them before…” William glances down at Ronald as Ronald pulls the photo from his pocket, showing it to him. “This is them.”

William takes the photo, glancing between twice to be sure the man and woman are the same and sure enough, they are. “Andrew and Rebecca then.” he summersies. “Curious. I wonder what relation they have to you.” he puts his thumb over the redacted face of the boy in the middle. “Or who these children are.”

Ronald swallows, clutching even tighter to William’s arm, hardly noticing the wince William gives as he does. “Like I told the you I was with when we found it, that other kid,” he points to, whom he guesses, is the eldest son, “was the one that freaked me out in the diner.”

“Was he? Then we can presume he was a victim of this place as well as Oliver then.” he folds the photo and tucks it away, before forcibly uncurling Ronald’s fingers that dig deeper and deeper into his arm. “Knox.” Ronald barely even acknowledges him. He just allows William to pry his fingers off while his eyes remain steadily locked on the picture. “Ronald,” William says softly, putting his hand on Ronald’s shoulder, trying to turn him away from the wall, “let’s go, alright? There’s no need for us to stay here any longer.”

But Ronald refuses to go. He refuses to take his eyes away from the picture. It feels like his world is crashing down on him, like everything he knew about his family was a lie. His fingers are trembling, his chest rising and falling in quick, stuttering breaths. He snaps. In a sudden fit of unbridled rage, he lunges forward, grabbing the framed photo and slams it to the floor with shaking hands, shouting with how much force he puts into the action. The wooden frame splinters apart, the glass shattering with a violent crack as shards spray every which way. He stands over the mess, chest heaving with rage and betrayal, fingers curled into fists so tight, he’s drawing blood with his nails digging into his palm. William stands stock-still, his own eyes wide; he’s stunned. “No. I can’t believe this. It’s…it’s wrong ! My family can’t be part of somethin’ like this!” he whirls toward William, as if the older reaper has the answers he’s begging for, “who are they, sir? Who are they?!”

William’s shock is quickly replaced by a neutral expression, watching Ronald spiral, not that he can blame his companion. “Knox, breathe.” he tells the younger reaper, putting his hand back on Ronald’s shoulder.

“How?!” Ronald yells in turn, knocking away William’s arm. “How?! That’s my family!” his voice cracks and he jabs his finger at the broken picture, “my family takes children and–”

“I know.” William interrupts, grabbing Ronald’s wrist, placing his thumb firmly on his pulse. “I know this is hard for you to learn but at least we now know the reason you were pulled into this town.”

“Oh yeah. Because that makes this sooo much better.” Ronald’s laugh is bitter, hollow. He rubs his eyes, feeling the sting of tears he can’t control.

William frowns, knowing there’s nothing he could say at the moment to make things better, so he crouches down and carefully picks up the picture from under the shattered glass, brushing away the shards before turning it over. A part of him expects there to be some kind of message or clue, perhaps even names belonging to the rest of the people in the photo, but no. There’s nothing. “There needs to be more answers somewhere around here.”

Ronald snatches the photo from William’s hands, ripping it up into tiny, little, pieces. The sound of tearing paper visceral as Ronald throws too much energy into tearing it apart. “I want out. I want to pretend this never happened.” he growls, throwing the bunched up scraps to the floor.

William stands again, wondering just what exactly he can do in this situation. “I understand that, as do I, but we need to remain calm.”

“Calm?! I just found out my family sacrifices children!” Ronald shouts at him, pure anger behind each word.

“We don’t know that yet.” William reminds him, keeping that calm yet firm tone. “All we know is that they built the hotel.”

“With those portraits!” Ronald gestures wildy at the wall where the picture once was, “don't tell me they didn’t have a part in everything else!”

“Then perhaps they did, but even then, we don’t know the role they played. Perhaps they were forced, blackmailed or threatened into whatever cult this town had.”

“But what if they did?” Roanld stresses, his voice cracking again, his entire body trembling at the very idea, “what if they did know and did it willingly?”

“Even if that were the case, what they may or may not have done, does not reflect on you.” William tells him honestly, holding Ronald’s gaze with his own. “A name does not make family.”

Ronald takes a shuddering breath; the longer he stares at William, the calmer he’s starting to feel. Reason slowly starts to break through the cloud of hate, fear and anguish and slowly, he nods. “Yeah…you’re right. They’re strangers. Blood doesn’t make family.” he rubs the back of his neck, trying to shake off the rest of the eerie feeling. “Still…it doesn’t make things feel any better.”

“Perhaps not right now, but look at me.” the older reaper gently lifts Ronald’s chin, keeping their eyes locked, “breathe, Ronald.”

Ronald swallows, inhaling slowly then exhaling just as, steps he repeats a few times until he finally feels some of his nerves beginning to settle. “Okay. I…I think I’m okay…”

“Alright.” William responds, removing his finger from under Ronald’s chin, “because right now, we’ve hit a dead–”

A bell tolls, its sound harsh and echoing, vibrating through the very bones of the building. Both of them flinch at the nose, the sound even worse where they stand, as if the bell itself is right beside him. “What the hell?” Ronald winces, covering his ears.

William rubs his own ear with a wince then shakes his head, as if trying to shake away the ringing he still hears. “I don’t know,” he grabs Ronald’s arm, “but we need to leave. Now.”

Ronald lets William pull him toward the door but the bell rings again, somehow even louder, both immediately covering their ears this time. Ronald wonders if the toll is meant to be a warning or telling them their time has come; that they’ve come too close to getting answers and the town is about to kill them, but as the sound finally dies a second time, a woman’s voice rises beyond the window. It’s a soft hum, melodic, yet carries an eerie weight to it, echoing through the sudden stillness like a mournful hymn. “You…hear that right?” Ronald whispers.

“I do.” William responds, his eyes on the window that’s covered by pulled down blinds.

He exchanges a glance with Ronald before slowly creeping up to the window, the younger reaper right behind him. He presses against one side of the wall and Ronald the other before he pinches the dust covered blinds open. Beyond the window and even beyond the schoolyard, there’s a lake with its surface smooth and unsettling. A crowd has gathered at its shore, their faces indistinct in the shadows of their cloaked hoods while a woman stands at the front on a platform that ends halfway over the water. Her arms are raised upward, her head lowered as if in prayer, “The clock has struck eight. In the precious moments that our time is infinite, I regret that the sacrifice we were meant to provide, has been taken from us!”

Ronald’s stomach churns, dread pooling in the pity of it. “Don't tell me this is…”

William’s eyes scan the crowd outside the window, trying to see if he can discern any faces. “It seems it is, though it sounds like they don’t have a sacrifice this time.”

Then, the woman turns toward the crowd, her skeletal hands reaching out towards them. Her voice rises, as if she’s somehow addressing William and Ronald directly, “as we cannot provide the chosen boy, I am forced to offer up another who shares the same blood! Our Star demands a sacrifice and we shall provide!”

The crowd parts and another cloaked figure, one taller in height, begins to approach with a body covered by a blanket in their arms. They walk as if matching an unheard rhythm, the crowd begins to chant words neither of them can understand and the woman reaches her arms out toward the being the closer they get–the blinds suddenly fly up, startling the both of them. “Woah.” Ronald gasps in surprise.

“Hey.”

The two of them spin around, William presuming Oliver’s found them, but no. It’s not Oliver at all. Instead, another boy stands there, the same boy from the photo of the family. His skin is pale and he’s drenched, droplets of water dripping from him and splashing onto the floor. He’s holding a stone, his lips twisted into a cruel grin before hurling the rock through the window. The glass explodes outwards, shattering into tiny, knife-like, pieces. Immediately, all attention is brought to the window, as if the mob could see them from where they stood, but when Ronald’s eyes lock on the woman, it’s like she really could, her head solely directed toward him. “We have guests!” the woman cires, voice pitched higher and shrill with excitement, “go! Retrieve them!”

The faceless crowd moves in tandem, a wave of dark cloaks, marching toward the school, chanting those strange words. Ronald throws himself away from the window, bouncing in one spot, “oh so now they see you?!”

William’s jaw clenches. “Seems so.” he pushes away from the window as well, walking in quick strides towards the door, “we need to leave even quicker now, We have no power in this place, let alone the strength to fight off a mob.” Ronald doesn’t need to be told twice, as he runs from the office, yanking William along behind him. However, they only reach the top of the staircase when that chant can be heard suddenly flooding the empty hallways of the school. “Hells.” William cusses, already hearing the rhythmic echoes of people stepping in sync.

Ronald knows going down isn’t going to work, so he snaps his attention to the right, eyeing the window there. He yanks the torch from William’s pocket and tosses it at the window, breaking the glass before peering out of it. Normally, the height wouldn’t bother him, but here, he lacks those supernatural abilities, “you think you can jump?” he asks, glancing at William over his shoulder.

“I don’t have much of a choice.”

Knowing William’s right, Ronald takes the leap first, his shoes hitting the ground with a heavy thud. He glances back just to see William jump after him but his landing is far less clean. Pain flashes across his face once he lands and he stumbles but Ronald grabs him before he can fully topple over, his grip secure on William’s arms. “You okay?”

William only needs to spare a glance up at the window where they see the hooded figures staring out at them, to answer that, “fine. Just run.” with the torch laying forgotten, they don’t waste another second, breaking off into a sprint.

Eventually, they make it back into town, the hotel just in their sights and that’s when they decide to finally rest. Ronald sinks to his knees, feeling the unfamiliar burn in his calves as he heaves in the air he’s not supposed to need while William all but collapses against the wall of a building, pressing his entire weight against it to keep him standing. “Okay, that new kid?” Ronald pants, wiping sweat from his forehead, “hate him. Oliver is so much better.”

William chuckles weakly, a flicker of amusement in his eyes. “Agreed.”

Ronald takes another deep breath before scanning William head to toe then up again. “How’s your back?”

“Sore, but it’s manageable for now. The painkillers haven’t completely worn off yet.”

“Hand?”

William checks the makeshift bandages, grimacing as he adjusts it. “Fine. Same as it was before. Very slow to heal.”

“Told you.”

“I know.” William straightens slowly, wincing. “Yourself?”

“Physically? Okay. Mentally? No idea.” he pushes himself back to his feet. “I know my mother wasn’t the best, but I didn’t know she was hidin’ anything like this.”

“What of your father?”

“She didn’t like him bein’ in the picture much.”

“I can assume she was afraid he’d interfere with her control over you.”

Ronald shrugs. “Who knows.” he shakes out his hands, glancing back the way they’d run from. “But now that I know my family has some connection here, I wanna figure this out. I want to know why they did what they did, to know what the exact attachment is. Maybe even figure out how this town got to the way it is.”

“You’re certain you want to do that?”

“Yeah.” Ronald nods, a steely determination in his eyes, overpowering the anger and fear. “I do. I need answers.”

William studies Ronald’s face before offering his hand to Ronald, “then you will not be alone in that endeavour.”

Ronald glances at William’s hand, then takes it, squeezing it firmly. “I know you don’t got much of a choice, but, thanks, sir. It’d be easier with your support.”

“Of course." there's a pause as William glances at their hands then back to Ronald's eyes, "however, Knox, you needn’t keep using my title to refer to me.”

Ronald blinks, shoving his hands into his pockets. “What? You mean ‘sir’?”

“Yes. You may call me by my name considering we’re no longer at the office. At this point, I’d rather have us on more common terms.”

Ronald thinks about it, then nods. “Yeah. Okay. I can do that, Will…iam. William.”

William sighs. “You may use that dreaded nickname if you wish.”

“Really?!”

“Yes.”

“Aw sweet!” he enthusiastically punches the air, “Grell’s gonna be so jealous when I tell her!”

“Or she’ll put you in hospital.”

Ronald’s excitement tampers a bit. “Oh. Yeah. Or that.”  he grabs William’s good hand again, holding tightly. “I still don’t want to let you go until I know we’re safe.”

“I agree. Especially now that the town seems to realise I’m here.”

“Yeah, why? What changed?”

“I’m willing to believe it’s because that woman saw me as well, considering she appeared to be the leader of that…cult. The rules for her may be different then every other being we’ve met.”

“Then, do you think–Styx this sounds so dumb–but do you think we’ll be able to put a stop to her? Maybe put the souls of Oliver and that other kid to rest if we can?”

William looks up at the sky, tired of seeing that dreary grey overhead. “I cannot say. Considering I fully believed spirits did not exist, I truly cannot say, Knox.”

“But we’ll try, right?”

“Of course we will.”

The return to their hotel room is a tad slower then either would like but with their energy levels as low as they are, it’s easier to take things slow, especially for William. He can try to hide the pain all he wants, but Ronald notices the wincing with almost each step he takes. It’s especially apparent when they climb the stairs.

When they return to the room, Ronald spins as he flops to his back on the bed, swiping William’s pain killers in the process and holds them up for the older reaper, “take. You need ‘em.”

William doesn’t argue, taking the bottle, popping off the cap and shaking out two pills before downing them. “Thank you.” he says, putting the cap back on and putting the bottle back on the nightstand. He empties out his pockets which in turn leads him to looking at the photo Ronald showed him of that family. He scans it once more before flipping it over. The third letter is O. “Knox.” he whispers, turning to pull the locket out from the nightstand drawer.

“What?” Ronald asks, his voice slightly muffled by his arm half covering his face.

“Knox.”

“Yeah, what?”

“No. Knox. As in, that could very well be the passcode to the locket you found.”

Ronald immediately sits up. “You think?”

“Perhaps. The first letter is K and the third letter is O. Four letters as well? Unless we find something else that requires a passcode, then that very well could be the answer.”

Ronald scratches the side of his neck. “What about knob, knot, know? Those could work too.”

“I’m sure the word is more significant than random.” he offers the locket to his companion. “This could very well be a family locket.”

Ronald takes the locket, frowning down at it.. “If it is, why was it so hidden and protected?”

“I can assume it either holds something damning as you suggested or something precious to your family that someone did not want others getting their hands on.”

Ronald’s thumb flicks one of the dials. “I wish we could open it.”

“As do I. I swear I’ve done every combination I could come up with.”

Ronald turns the dial once more before offering the locket back to William, rubbing at his eye. “Right now, Will, I’m too tired to really think too hard about anythin’.” he admits.

William returns the locket to the drawer then sits next to Ronald on the bed. “I must agree, although I fear sleeping will not come easy tonight. Not after what we’ve experienced.”

“Yeah…yeah, I can’t even get that kid’s face outta my mind. He was so…pale and thin.”

“A sacrifice to whatever bleeding ‘Star’ those people seem to worship.”

“Star.” Ronald repeats. “You know, the more I think about it, that woman sounded pretty familiar to me. I think it was the same one I heard in that weird…” he waves his hand, trying to think of the right way to describe that reality he experienced, “whatever you wanna call it. The one that wanted to use Oliver for a replacement.”

“Was she?”

“I think.” he turns his head toward the window, staring out into the bleakness that was the old town of Haven, “and I dunno about you, but I think we’re gonna have to go to that lake.”

William turns his attention to the window as well, “as do I.” Silence settles between them now, Ronald feeling a small sense of peace after it's clear the mob hadn’t followed them all the way back to the hotel. It also helps to know the William next to him is real which allows him to breathe even easier. Maybe, a bit too easy. He quickly comes to realise just how close they are, the warmth from William’s body seeping into his own as they sit shoulder to shoulder and thigh to thigh, his eyes unintentionally drift to William’s lips. They’re parted just slightly and William’s tongue absently darts out to wet them as he’s lost in his own thoughts. A flutter of emotion rises in his chest, something he doesn’t want to put a name to. He swallows, knowing he shouldn’t want what he does but the pull feels undeniable. “We should–Ronald?”

Ronald jumps, startled and pulls his gaze away from William’s lips. Caught off guard, he stammers, “g-get ready for bed? Yep.” he hops to his feet. “Yep. Yeeeep, we should absolutely get ready for bed.”

“Hold on.” William’s hand darts out, grabbing Ronald’s wrist. It’s a firm grip but not forceful, telling Ronald he will let go if the younger reaper doesn’t want to answer the question he’s about to ask, “what were you looking at?”

“Nothing.” Ronald mutters quickly, although his voice comes out just a little too high-pitched. “Just thinkin’.”

“Ronald.” William’s voice is stern. “You said we’d be honest.”

“I…yeah.” he swallows, throat dry.

“Then tell me.”

Ronald sighs deeply, looking down at the floor, almost regretting ever asking for that stipulation between them; he can’t bring himself to look William in the eyes. It feels too intense. Too exposing. “You.” he answers softly, feeling that uncomfortable itch under his skin, “your lips.”

There’s a brief pause. “Why?”

“I…” his voice goes even quieter, a sound barely above a whisper, “I…was thinkin’ about…kissin’ you again…”

William’s taken aback by the confession, full heartedly Ronald wouldn’t bring that up again. He mentioned it last night and William assumed it was only because it was a new experience, but now? Now, it feels like something a little bit more. “Were you?”

“Yeah…yeah, I was.” Ronald exhales, his breath shaky as he steps back, William easily letting his wrist slide out of his hold, “but they’re just thoughts. Doesn’t mean I want to, right?”

William shifts slightly, trying to appear more open, more casual because there’s a question he wants to ask and he doesn’t want to push Ronald away with it. “Knox, forgive me if this is too personal,” he begins, keeping his voice calm, “but I’ve noticed a pattern with you and I have to ask, are you afraid of liking other men?”

Ronald bites his lower lip gnawing on it nervously as he avoids eye contact. The question is too direct, but that’s how William is and he knows William deserves the truth. “I…well, yeah.” he swallows again, trying to keep his voice from breaking. “My mum…she ingrained into me that I had to get married and have kids, so…so in my mind, I never really thought of other blokes as options. It just wasn’t something that was ever supposed to happen, y’know?”

William nods, folding his hands in his lap. “Understandable. However, she may have pushed you onto that path, but you are in no obligation to follow through with what your mother demands of you." he studies Ronald, making sure his questions don't push Ronald away. "If you had not been forced onto this set path, would you have considered being romantic with another man?”

Ronald anxiously rocks back and forth on his heels, itching his hand. “I dunno…”

William presses his hands harder together, clearly seeing how nervous he’s making the younger reaper. “I apologise, Ronald. I did not mean to make you even more uncomfortable.”

“You’re just wanting answers, I get it.” he runs his fingers through his hair, “I mean, you’re probably speaking from experience huh? About the whole, don’t gotta follow the path your mum set for you?”

William hums, unfolding his hands to shake out the throbbing from the injured one, having pressed them together too tightly, “my mother’s desire for grandchildren, you mean?”

“Yeah.”

“Then, yes. I understand the pressure parents may place on you, but again, it is not an obligation to follow what they desire. Trying to please everyone will only make you miserable eventually and at some point, you will need to put your own needs first.”

Ronald can’t help but smile slightly, “not really something I expected to hear from Mr. Spears.”

“No, I would suspect not, but do as I say and not as I do.”

“Yeah, good point.” Ronald’s smile fades as he considers William’s earlier words, allowing them to really sink in. “I dunno if I ever considered datin’ another guy, but even if I did, I don’t think I could just…stop, y’know? Stop worryin’ that’s it’s wrong, or stop thinkin’ about how disappointed she’d be in me.”

“I doubt anyone could right away and I certainly do not expect you to.” William then holds up his palms, as though trying to validate his next words, “and I promise, none of this is coming from any selfish agenda on my own behalf.”

Even before William said that, Ronald knew he wasn’t. William may have been many things, but the younger reaper knew he wasn’t the manipulative type. He was blunt and straight to the point. “I know.” Ronald assures him, sitting next to him again. “You're not that kinda guy which makes me feel worse because…” he sighs, dragging his fingers through his hair again in frustration. “I don’t know. You said you had feelings for me and that scares me because I might…kinda like you back, but, I also know I can’t.”

William tries to navigate the next part of the conversation as carefully as he can, not wanting to isolate Ronald or turn the younger reaper against him. “Have you spoken to your mother since she kicked you out?”

“No…” Ronald admits, pain lacing his words with the awful memories that’s always brought forth with the mention of her.

“Then you are free to choose whatever path you wish. She is not around to influence you.”

Ronald looks at William now, really looks at him and for the first time, he sees a flicker of something he can’t quite name in William’s eyes. Is it sincerity? Adoration? Love? “I dunno if it’s all her. I think some of it…is that, it’s you.” he swallows again, a lump in his throat. “It’s easy with the birds, yeah? A wink, a laugh, but you? Someone who’s mature, older and another bloke? That’s all things I’m not used to.”

William’s jaw tenses, briefly glancing away from Ronald because the next move he makes, will permanently change their relationship. Perhaps for the better, perhaps irreparably, but it will change. He turns back to Ronald and slowly–so slowly–he reaches out. His fingers hover close to Ronald’s cheek, hesitant to actually touch in case even that shatters whatever common ground they’ve found between them. Ronald’s breath hitches when William’s cool fingers finally touch his skin, his heart racing. He’s unsure of what’s happening but he’s too afraid–no. He’s too eager to stop it, “Will…”

William moves inches closer, his hand cupping Ronald’s jaw gently, guiding him–not forcing, never forcing–forward until their foreheads touch. The connection is warm, a simple meeting of skin and breath yet it carries everything unspoken between them. Ronald inhales sharply, his heart hammering loud enough he’s sure William could hear it. “Tell me to stop,” William whispers, “and I will.”

Ronald’s hands grip William’s arm, moving in just a little on his own, their lips just barely brushing. “Don’t.” William exhales slowly, the sound shaky–so human it hurts. Then, finally, their lips meet.

It’s not a kiss fuelled by desperation or hunger; it’s a kiss that’s careful, tentative, like both of them are afraid of breaking the other. William’s lips are gentle, barely moving at first, testing, tasting. Ronald lets out a quiet, shuddering sound, his fingers wrapping tighter around William’s arm as if he needs something to hold onto and William responds in kind, pressing just a little more firmly into the kiss. Ronald’s breath hitches, a soft gasp escaping him as he feels William’s presence in a way that’s both foreign and entirely consuming. Every part of him seems to hum with awareness, his skin is alight with the touch of William’s lips. Their hands tremble, like they are both trying to hold onto something fragile, afraid the moment will slip away.

When William slowly breaks the kiss, Ronald can only stare at him with glassy eyes, his fingers still clutching to William’s arm. “That was…different. Way different than before.”

“I do apologise for forcefully kissing you.” William tells him, voice heavy with regret.

“Again, I get it. You needed to make a point.” Ronald swallows, his breath shaky, “but this felt…genuine.”

“I would hope.” William fingers gently brush down Ronald’s cheek, hoping Ronald will not shy away from his touch; he’s testing the waters of this new connection he wants to forge. “I have to ask, do you wish for this kiss to be forgotten as well?”

Ronald winces at that. He didn’t expect that question to feel like a fresh wound, but it does. He bites his lip, hating himself for the words he said in the heat of the moment that day at the hospital. “I’m sorry I said that…and did that.” he carefully presses William’s hand harder against his cheek. “I…I dunno if I want this to be anything, to put a name to it, but, I…I don’t wanna push you away either.”

William nods in understanding, his eyes soft, nonjudgmental. “The choice is yours.”

Ronald is torn between indulging in the warmth and safety William provides and pushing him away because he’s been told his whole life that he needs to go in the other direction. “I don’t know.” he answers, almost ashamed.

“You needn’t provide an answer right away.” William reassures him, brushing his thumb gently over Ronald’s cheek.

Ronald searches William’s eyes; that something that was there is stronger now and it makes Ronald feel like, for once, he’s not forced to act a certain way. That he can breathe, that his charm can take a back seat for a moment; that he can just be Ronald. So he takes a deep breath and swallows the last of his nerves. “Okay, I…I have an idea and I know it’s gonna sound weird, but, in this place, while we’re here, maybe…maybe we could make us something?”

“Something?”

“Like I said, I don’t wanna put a name to it, but I don’t want to throw this chance away either. I just want to pretend, for now, that there’s no outside pressure, that I can do what I want and what I want, is to try,” he gestures to the small space between them, “this, just, without a name.”

William runs his thumb over Ronald’s cheek again, thinking over the proposition. Even if it’s not what he wants completely, he meant what he said when he wasn’t ready for a proper relationship yet. “That suits me well. Putting a name to it would…” he sighs, his gaze becoming distant. Troubled. “It’s easier for me to leave it nameless as well.”

Ronald looks William up and down, noticing the bothered look on William’s face. “I wanna ask you something, but, can I kiss you again first?”

William’s lips twitch into a minute smile, “I would welcome it.”

This time, Ronald is the one to initiate the kiss. He’s still timid and hesitant, but there’s purpose in the way he presses his lips to William’s–no pushing, no retreating. When he finally pulls away, he lingers, his forehead pressed back to William’s as they both catch their breath. “You know, I gotta say, you’re a better kisser than I thought you’d be.”

William rolls his eyes, a dry chuckle escaping him. “Thank you, I suppose.”

Ronald laughs softly himself, cautiously slipping his arms around William’s waist. “Is this…okay?”

William glances down at Ronald’s arms, surprised to see them around him like that instead of the other way around. A part of him feels like he should be bothered by this, bothered that it feels like he’s having his command taken from him, but in just a few seconds, that part of him is squashed by the larger part that realises this is Ronald trying to show he’s willing to try this something that he wants between them. “It is.” he assures, running his good hand up and down Ronald’s arm. “Now, you wanted to ask me something?”

“Right.” Ronald breathes out, fully prepared for his question to go unanswered. “What happened between you and Alan?”

William frowns, his expression darkening as he turns his head away. “I suppose you deserve to know.”

“You really don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, Will. I promise.”

“Correct, I do not have to tell you. However, I feel I owe it to you for not only have you told me about your own past, you also deserve to know if there is to be something between us while we’re in this godforsaken town.” he pauses, searching for the right way to start. “What happened between Alan and I is mostly my own doing. For a time, we were happy, at least, I hope he was. I was content in our relationship and that is where my shortcomings were really shown. I was content enough that I allowed my old habits to start creeping back up to the point where I spent most of my time in the office instead of giving Alan the attention and love he deserved. When Alan confronted me about it, I thought he was being dramatic thus I didn’t give his claims much thought. I didn’t give him the emotional support he needed because, even now, I don’t…quite know how to give that support.”

“You’re doin’ pretty good right now.”

William shakes his head, “thank you Ronald, but, that’s because of our situation. With Alan, I was complacent." he grips just that little tighter to Ronald's arm, "and then, he left me." the words come out forced, as if it's diffuclt for him to even say them, "I felt as if my whole world crumbled and I believed I’d never find someone like him again, however I’d never place blame onto Alan for what happened. It was entirely my own doing. I made him feel like he came second, like he did not matter and for that, I wish I could apologise to him for.” he inhales deeply then exhales slowly, “when he told me one evening he was leaving me for Eric, I don’t think I fully believed him at first. I thought it was a jest, perhaps even a test to see if I would change my behaviour…but then, he grabbed his packed suitcase and left. He walked out of my life for good and this heart of stone? It cracked.”

Ronald isn’t sure what to say now. His mouth opens and closes as he fights to find the right words, but instead, all he can say is, “oh.”

William closes his eyes again. “A few days later, when I saw him and Eric together, that was my true breaking point. Nothing else felt as if it mattered. The man I’d opened up to, that I allowed in, had found love in the arms of another and I just couldn’t take it.” he licks his drying lips, Ronald noticing the faintest hints of wetness in the corner of his eyes, “What I recall about that day is I had drawn closed all the curtains and took a scythe, similar to the pocket knife you carry, and stabbed myself.” He places his hand over the scar on his chest. “The scar here is a permanent reminder of what I tried to do, of how weak I was.”

“Will.” Ronald places his hand over William’s on his chest, “what happened after…?”

“After that, I recall waking up in hospital with Alan by my side and that…that was my reason to continue to live. Alan still loved me enough to be there with me, and that was enough for me.”

“That’s a lot to take in…”

“I know and as far as I’m aware, not even Eric knows the full story of how things ended between Alan and I, for which I thank Alan. He never revealed how horribly I’d lost myself in grief.”

“I kinda get it. You were tits over arse for Alan, right?”

William actually laughs at that, “I suppose I had been, yes. I was convinced that Alan would be the one I would eventually marry.” He waves his hand. “Obviously that never came true, and I am happy Alan has found someone to love him even through the wretched thorns, but I do have to admit, seeing them together still stings a bit.”

“Can’t say I’m all that surprised. If the bird I loved like that found someone else, I don’t think I could see them together either.”

William nods. “So, that’s it then. You know about one of the worst things I’ve ever experienced. Something even worse than the disappointment of my parents, even worse than when I received the wound on my back.”

Ronald looks at William’s chest, holding tighter to the hand that’s still pressed there. “You really loved Alan.”

“I did, yet I did not deserve him. And that’s why I feel I am not ready to be in another relationship. I feel as if I would not deserve you, for example. I am unable to cater to the needs of my partner, be it physical or emotional.”

“Not true.”

“Oh very true, Ronald.”

“I think you just need to find that someone that’ll bring out those traits in you.”

“Alan wasn’t enough?”

“No. No, I don’t think so.” He shrugs. “I mean no disrespect to Al, I really don’t, but maybe he could’ve tried harder.”

“Ronald. I told you, Alan did.”

“Yeah, but for someone so set in their ways, I feel like it’s something you’ve got to keep trying to get across.”

William does offer him a soft smile. “I understand what you’re trying to do, Ronald, I do, but Alan did try. I was the one who ignored every attempt. I understand it was my own fault for reacting the way I did, and I do not put blame on anyone else.” He holds Ronald’s hand that is still on his chest. “However, telling that story to someone has felt good. Somewhat healing, I suppose.”

“Well, good because we are in this t’gether. You and me.”

“You and me.” William agrees. “And tomorrow, we’ll go to that lake.”

Ronald nods. “Agreed.” He pulls himself closer to William, resting his head on William’s shoulder, finally feeling like he can indulge, even just a little bit, without some guilt. “Also, I wanna thank you, Will.”

“What for?”

“For letting me be a little vulnerable. I don’t know if it’s this place or if it’s just you, but I don’t feel like I’ve got to keep up much of my persona when you’re around. You didn’t judge me for feeling the way I did.”

“Of course not. How one is raised and the feelings that come from that are not to be mocked.” Ronald closes his eyes, knowing William’s right. Outside of this horrific town, he’d have felt this was wrong for indulging in William’s embrace, but right now? He’s going to, for once, simply let go.

********************

“So, she's gone then?”

“Mmhm.” Alan replies, uncertainty clear in his voice, “she left after lunch and I’ve not heard from her since and considering you were called in to take over for Mr. Spears again, I can guess he’s gone as well.”

Eric taps his foot against the floor, “so they went to Haven. Do ye know if it was the human or reaper side?”

“Reaper, I think.” Alan answers, glancing out the window. His brow furrows, concern on his features.

“Then I say we go with ‘em.” Eric’s voice gives away his determination, glancing at Alan with that very look. “Those two aren’t tellin’ us the whole truth. I know they’re not and I have a feelin’ if we want Spears and Ron back, we’re gonna have to go find ‘em ourselves.” his eyes soften when he sees doubt in his husband’s own. “I know it’s risky, but what else are we supposed to do?” Alan hesitates, torn between doubt and desire to help his friends but Eric reaches out, gently cupping his face to pull him from his thoughts. “Hen, look at me.” Eric ushers, voice gentle, getting Alan’s eyes to lock with his, “ye trust me, aye?”

“Of course.” Alan answers quickly.

“Then us going there is what we need to do and I promise, if somethin’ happens, I’ll protect ye with my life.”

Alan laughs softly, though it’s more from a place of warmth then amusement. “I know you will.” he sighs before nodding. “Alright. Let’s go.” They set off, Eric’s truck’s engine rumbling through the quiet, their destination looming ahead. Alan is hypervigilant, his eyes darting over the rain-slicked roads, looking for any sign of their missing companions. Every shadow seems like it could be them, and his mind races with worries, but Eric’s steady presence beside him offers some comfort. Eric, on the other hand, is focused on the road, his hands gripping the steering wheel, though the growing fatigue in his eyes is becoming more noticeable.

The rain starts coming down heavier, slashing across the windshield like a sheet of glass. Eric silently curses under his breath, struggling to keep his eyes open, vision clouded by the storm. “I can’t see much.” he mutters, frustration evident in his tone.

Alan rubs his hands together, “I’m nervous about going to Haven.” Alan confesses, his words barely audible over the pounding rain.

“Yer not alone.” Eric assures him, “it’s not a nice place but we need to do this, Alan. For them.”

“And for you?”

Eric spares his husband a quick glance over. “Me?”

“You were part of Haven once. There’s probably going to be answers there to what happened to your parents. No one would blame you for wanting those answers.”

Eric grips tighter to the steering wheel, grinding his teeth together. “Maybe.”

Alan frowns at Eric before swapping his eyes to the window again. “I am worried about them. William and Ronald, I mean. I just want them home as soon as possible.”

“We both do.” Eric agrees.

“How did they even get stuck in that town in the first place?” Alan asks after a long pause, “surely they’d arrive there in the same fashion you did.”

“Ye’d think, but I dunno.” Eric replies, adjusting his grip on the steering wheel, “Behind the veil is what Kimiko said, so it sounds like there’s more to it. Maybe more of that demon influence sucked them in or somethin’.”

“That’s terrifying.” Alan murmurs, hands balling into fists on his lap.

“Aye.” Eric agrees. He glances at Alan for a small moment, removing one hand from the wheel to cover Alan’s own.

As the truck continues its journey, the rain grows thicker, the road harder to see. Eric feels his eyelids growing heavier, the fatigue settling deep into his bones. He tries to shake it off, but it’s like something is pulling him under. A part of him wonders if it would be alright to just close his eyes for a few seconds–to give them a rest, but before he can even think about it, Alan suddenly shouts, “Eric!”

He slams on the breaks, the truck skidding to a halt, tires screeching against the wet road. The vehicle lurches forward but Eric quickly regains control, heart pounding in his chest. A figure stands in the middle of the road, drenched by the rain, their cloak billowing in the wind. Eric jumps out of the truck first, Alan quick to follow, the sounds of their shoes splashing in shallow puddles. Seeing the figure up just that little closer, they can tell it’s a woman and though her face is obscured by the hood, they can see tears streaking down her cheeks. “Forgive me, kind young men, but may I ask for your help?” she calls out, her voice tremulous, as if she’s barely holding herself together.  

“What’s wrong?” Alan asks, ever the bleeding heart for these sorts.  

“I’ve heard that my son has gone missing, and I wish to offer my help in finding him,” the woman explains, her voice breaking slightly as she speaks.  

Alan and Eric share a glance, both of them unsure of what to make of this sudden encounter. Eric steps forward, his brow furrowed in suspicion. “And that would make ye…?” he asks carefully.

“I am," she begins, lowering her hood, shocking both Eric and Alan as her apperance uncannily reminds them of..."Rose Knox.”

Chapter Text

Alan lingers at the edge of the kitchen, watching the woman from halfway behind the archway. She’s seated on their couch, her eyes intently focused on the pouring rain beyond the window. He narrows his own eyes; he’s wary of her. Eric, however, observes Alan with amusement as he prepares a cup of tea for their unexpected guest. "Alan, yer bein' obvious," he tells him, stirring the contents of the mug.

"I can’t help it." Alan turns to him. "She claims she’s Ronald’s mother, but how can we be so sure? How does she even know Ronald’s missing? As far as I knew, that information never left the office."

Eric sighs. "Can’t answer that, Al."

"And another thing–has Ronald ever spoken to you about his mother? Or any of his family for that matter?"

Eric taps the rim of the mug with the spoon, setting the utensil on the counter. "No. Lad’s never mentioned a thing about ‘em."

"Gee, I wonder why."

"Alan." Eric gives his partner a serious look. "The lad could have had many reasons not to mention ‘em. It’s not like I’ve told ye anythin’ about my folks either."

"Well, yes, but yours…" Alan clears his throat. "You had a good reason not to. Which leaves me wondering what reason does Ronald have? Is she abusive? Neglectful? If so, why is she so concerned that he’s missing when she’s never appeared a day in his life otherwise? Reapers can’t go off the grid the same way humans can. We can’t just disappear unless specifically requested from the Board, and we both know Ronald wouldn’t do that."

"Yer makin’ a lotta speculations, hen," Eric tells him, putting his hand on Alan’s shoulder. "Why don’t you calm down, aye?"

Alan’s eyes flick back to the sitting room where Rose remains seated. "I don’t trust her," he whispers. "I can’t explain it, but something about her is off."

"I know. It’s weird, I agree with ye there, but for now, let’s treat her like we did Callum and Kimiko, yeah?"

Alan crosses his arms. "Callum and Kimiko…do you think they’ll come back?"

"I think so," Eric replies, squeezing Alan’s shoulder before letting go. "Especially Kimiko. Lass is dead set on finding Will. Doubt anythin’ could get in her way."

Alan inhales through his mouth then exhales through his nose. "There’s just…a lot of strange things happening, and I hate that we don’t have any answers. We don’t even know if they’re alive. All we know is that they vanished inside a town with demonic influence hanging over it."

"I know, Alan, I do." He runs his fingers through his hair. "I wish Grell could tell us more. Don’t care if it’s an ‘urban legend.’ There’s usually some truth buried in ‘em."

"I could." Rose suddenly inserts herself into the conversation. Alan flinches away from her and Eric blinks, having not even noticed she’d gotten up from the couch. She stands in the archway now, her hands neatly folded at her chest. "I know quite a great deal about Haven."

Alan and Eric exchange a look, the smaller reaper scooting just a little bit closer to his husband. "Well, obviously ye do," Eric replies, offering her the mug of tea. "Since ye already know the name of the town we’re talkin’ about."

"I mean you no harm, gentlemen," she assures them, accepting the mug with a thankful nod. "I only wish to bring my son home. Although, I wasn’t aware someone was with him."

"Yes," Alan says. "William T. Spears."

"Spears?" she echoes. "I have not heard that name in a very long time."

"Ye know Will?" Eric asks.

"No, not a William, but a Callum."

"His father," Alan mutters, feeling a strange, tingly sensation on the back of his neck.

"Hm. I see." She sips her tea. "What do you know about Haven? About the Spears family?"

Eric cocks an eyebrow. "Spears family? Don’t tell me they’re connected to that place."

"He and Ronald both."

"Both?!" Alan gawks. "They both have ties to such a…cursed place?"

"I’m afraid so." She silently sips her tea for a few moments, as if debating what would be worth her time explaining until she lowers her mug, her expression remaining strangely neutral. "Callum Spears was the principal of Haven Elementary, and his wife, I never bothered learning her name, was his assistant. She was in charge of punishing the delinquents while he kept the school under his iron fist. However, the children he deemed too troublesome to stay were the lucky ones, as they would be struck from the list of approved sacrifices for the Star that rules that town."

Eric's face falls and a scowl overtakes the surprise. "She was lyin’ to me," he growls. "I knew she was. Kimiko was fuckin’ lying to me. They both lied. That whole story they told Alan and I the first time? That was all bullshit then?"

"I would assume so. I'm sure they would not tell you the truth for they played such a large part in the demise of your parents."

Eric's breathing heavily now, looking ready to punch a hole through the wall. "Those pieces of shite."

Alan puts his hand on Eric’s arm. "But they’re such prevalent figures in our realm. How would no one know this about them?"

"I cannot answer that. All I know of them is that Rebecca, the ever-holy leader of that place, ordered Callum and his wife to retrieve a family that had gone rogue."

Eric’s fingers clenched into fists now, grinding his teeth together. "Retrieval? Let me guess, for the Slingby family?"

"Exactly." She takes a sip. "When they returned, they found out their son was gravely injured. As I know it, Rebecca’s eldest son injured William’s back so horribly, supposedly, it was a miracle he could still walk." She lowers her voice, as if somehow, she could be overheard by the outside world. "Ronan was that child’s name, and he was…unique." She holds the mug closer to her chest. "Now, as I’ve heard, upon seeing their own son in such a state, something clicked, and Callum choose to leave just as the Slingbys did, but under the guise of returning with handfuls of other reapers who wish to live in this nirvana Rebecca keeps touting Haven as."

"Haven. Heaven. Clever," Alan deadpans. "What was so unique about Ronan?"

"I can’t say, for not even I know. I only know that he did not share the same father as Ronald."

"You don’t know?" Alan narrows his eyes, rubbing up and down Eric’s arm, feeling how tense his husband is. "How do you not know? You're Ronald’s mother."

She blinks, as if not realising her slip-up. "Ah. I suppose so." She sighs. "I am not his biological mother, no. That would be Rebecca. Instead, I am her sister, and I am the one who stole Ronald away when he was approaching the age of sacrifice. I’ve made sure he does not recall his time in Haven for I knew that town would eventually call him back because his time has yet to pass."

Eric’s jaw tenses and he’s trying very hard to keep himself under control. "So, Ron could be dead right now?"

"If that is what the town calls him back for, then the chances are higher, yes."

Eric clenches and unclenches his fists before turning to Alan, looking his husband dead in the eyes. "Hen, I need to take a walk ‘fore I break somethin’, alright? I’ll be back…" He pauses, honestly unsure when he will be.

"During this storm?" Alan asks. "Eric, I–"

"Lad, don’t argue with me right now. I promise, I’ll be back t’night."

Alan obviously wants to protest, but he isn’t the one who was just told that the family who said they wanted to be there for him when his parents died were the ones who probably ratted them out to begin with, let alone that his best mate could already be dead. "Alright," he concedes, then pulls Eric down for a kiss. "But, don’t be out too long, please?"

"I love ye," Eric replies instead before stealing another kiss and walking from the home. He has an overwhelming urge to go to Spears’ flat and smash all the glass, tear up all the photos, make an entire mess of the place. But really, none of that is William’s fault. He was a child much younger than Eric himself when he lost his parents. No. Instead, he’ll take out this anger on the two who deserve it.

As he walks down the street, completely soaked by the pounding rain, the cold is the only thing that even remotely keeps his rage in check. He pulls out his phone and rings for a ride. "Red? What are ye doin’ right now? I need a lift, and I need you to drive, else I’ll drive meself off a fuckin’ cliff."

********************

As with every morning in this place, there’s no real indication that the day has begun. No birds that sing in the dawn, no sunlight spilling through the windows, only that ever-present grey sky. The hotel room, though still dingy and run-down, feels like the safest place they’ve been since arriving in this hellhole. Perhaps that’s because, when Ronald opens his eyes, he’s in William’s arms.

It’s a little jarring at first to see William’s face so close to his, but there is a strange form of relief that comes with it, the tips of their noses barely touching. He sits up with a groan and a stretch that earns him a satisfying crack from his spine. He rakes his fingers through his sleep-mussed hair, then glances down at William. His face is blank and lips partly open in silent, even breaths.

Something shifted between them after last night's conversation. Ronald was the one to insist William hold him like he did the night before, and William did, those arms feeling warm and secure around him—a feeling he’s not used to but one he can’t lie and say he didn’t like. It’s something he expects to regret in the morning, something he expects to hear the voice of his mother in the back of his mind, chastising for indulging. But no. That doesn’t happen. Instead, he wants to nestle against the older man for just a little bit longer, but he knows that’s not an option if they want to find a way home. "Will? Hey, Will," he whispers, nudging William gently on the shoulder. "Time to wake up."

Rousing William from his sleep continues to be an easy endeavour. One more push causes William’s eyelids to flutter open. Despite the immediate squinting he has to do with the lack of spectacles, there is a warmth, a kindness even, in his eyes as they land on Ronald. "Ah. Good morning then."

Ronald offers a sleepy smile. "Yeah. Morning."

William sighs, his voice gruff in the wake of sleep. "I suppose, in this place, it’ll never truly be a good morning, will it?"

"Mm, dunno," Ronald replies, a grin tugging at his lips. "‘Cuz with you? Every morning’s a good morning." The flicker of surprise across William’s face almost makes him laugh. "Sorry," he adds, "hard to switch that part of me off."

"No, that’s fine. I much prefer it, to be honest," William replies, sitting up and instantly reaching for his glasses on the nightstand. "It balances out such a dreary atmosphere." His eyes meet Ronald’s, only briefly sparing a glance toward his lips. "Last night did happen, correct? What we talked about, we did talk about, yes?"

Ronald leans in slightly, emboldened in the gentle hush of the morning. His grin widens and he tilts his head almost too innocently. "Yeah, we did. Wanna make sure?"

William captures his lips in a kiss the moment that question is asked. Ronald surprises even himself by sighing into it, allowing himself to melt into the tenderness. It still feels strange, surreal even, to be kissing William—to be kissing his usually uptight, cold, unfeeling, superior. But these kisses…they are the most genuine he’s ever shared. More real than any romance he’s had. It’s like that realisation shatters something in him; that small thread that’s still tying him to the words his mother ingrained into him, snaps. As William breaks the kiss, Ronald reacts without thinking. He immediately cups William’s face, pulling him back into a more desperate kiss, asserting dominance over it. He swallows William’s gasp, pressing harder into the kiss, needing to know, to feel, that this is what a kiss is really meant to feel like.

Eventually, William firmly, but gently, pushes him back, his face a mixture of confusion and want as he tries to understand where that sudden desperation came from. "Ronald?" is all he manages to ask.

Ronald doesn’t know how to answer that. His hands have dropped to clutch William’s arms, and he doesn't realise how heavily he’s breathing until he’s come back to his senses. Now, instead of that desperation, he feels shame. "I…" He swallows, looking away as he sits back on his knees, forcing his hands into his own lap. "I’m sorry, sir."

William isn’t sure what comes over Ronald, but he sees the same lad he saw before at the hospital: ashamed, guilty, afraid of being judged. "You needn’t apologise, Ronald," he assures the younger reaper, tentatively reaching out to cup Ronald’s cheek. "I promise you, you don’t."

Ronald’s breath shakes as he breathes out, leaning into William’s hand. "I just…it’s like I said last night. With you, this, is different."

"Do you want to stop it?"

"No." He grabs William’s forearm as if he’ll vanish any second. "No. I don’t. I really want this while we’re here."

William cups his cheek again, soothing his thumb just under his eye. "Then you have nothing to apologise for."

Somehow, that gives Ronald the relief he needs, as he closes his eyes and leans into William’s touch. "Okay."

William quietly admires the younger reaper, searching for any other sign of doubt. When he sees none, he slowly removes his hand from Ronald’s cheek. "Right then, I want no more questioning while we’re here, alright? And if you have your doubts, talk to me. I will not take offence to anything you wish to discuss or how you’re feeling, yes?"

Ronald almost feels like laughing. "Hard to believe that’s comin’ from Mr. Spears."

"Yes, well, it’s only a privilege to those that I deem worthy."

Ronald couldn’t help but smile at it, leaning in and controlling himself to only give William a kiss on the cheek. "Thanks, Will." He leans back and takes a deep breath. "Right, I’m okay now. I think I just had to get that outta my system." He pushes himself off the bed. "So, how’d you sleep?"

"Well enough," he answers, getting out of bed himself and reaching for his trousers. He doubts whatever just happened between them is going to go away as easily as Ronald makes it sound, but he doesn’t have the urge to keep dwelling on it in case he really does push Ronald away. "Though I must admit, I am eager to sleep in my own bed once this is over."

"Yeah, me too," Ronald agrees, tugging his jumper over his head. "You still think we can, right?"

"I do," William answers without hesitation, grabbing his dress shirt instead of the turtleneck. Only having two articles of clothing to switch between is beginning to get to him, but he pushes thoughts of laundry from his mind for now. "I have that note from my mother, meaning she was here, and she left, which means we can as well. Somehow."

"Somehow," Ronald mutters, dragging on his own trousers. He’s about to ask what they should be looking for once they reach the lake, like they agreed to do last night, but his stomach betrays him first, growling loudly in the otherwise silent room. He winces, flushing red as he folds his arms around his middle. "Erm…maybe we can continue lookin’ for that kitchen first."

He expects William to agree, but instead, he finds it disturbingly consistent that whenever food is mentioned, there is a look of disgust on William’s face. "I…suppose," he mutters, shrugging on his blazer.

"Okay, what’s with you and food?" Ronald asks, frowning. "First the diner, now you’re givin’ me the same look like the last time I mentioned findin’ something to eat."

William exhales slowly, visibly reluctant but honouring their promise to be honest, he answers, "You and I see things differently; our doppelgängers are a good example of that. The same goes for food. While you see it as fresh and warm, as if it was just made to serve…I see it as mouldy and decaying and completely unfit for consumption."

Ronald stares at him. "Wait—what?"

"I’m afraid so. That meal you received at the diner…to me, it looked like foul, putrid mush. Watching you eat it nearly put me off food altogether."

Ronald swallows, stomach now twisting uncomfortably. "You mean I was eatin’ rotten food?"

"To me, yes."

His face turns an alarming shade of green and he fights down the bile rising in his throat. "Oh. Uh, yeah…maybe I’m not so hungry anymore…"

"I apologise for not telling you sooner," William says, adjusting the cuffs of his blazer. "But at the time, we had no idea what this town could do, and I didn’t know what I was seeing was real or not."

"Would’ve made a right mess if you had, so…thanks for holdin’ off." Ronald grimaces, taking the watch from his bedside table. "Eugh. I’ll never look at a full English the same way again."

Any other reply dies on William’s lips as he watches Ronald fasten the watch around his wrist. Wasn’t that stolen? "Hold on. That watch, you told me you no longer had yours."

"Huh? Oh yeah, I don’t," Ronald replies, holding his wrist out. "This is a different one. The you that found me in room four-o-seven said I should keep it. Found it in a drawer."

William takes Ronald’s wrist and inspects the watch, contemplating the item. It’s almost identical to what he recalls of Ronald’s own, perhaps the only difference being a few of the decorations are in a slightly different position. "He truly wasn’t me, as I’d never suggest taking anything from this place, let alone something potentially cursed."

"Pretty sure it’s curse-free."

"You’re certain of that?"

Ronald hesitates. "I mean…kinda?"

"Mm," is all William comments, letting Ronald’s wrist go. He turns his attention to his own watch that’s been sitting idly on the nightstand since their first night here, considering it has no purpose in this place. He opens the drawer of that nightstand and pulls out the locket, looking it over. They are going to the lake today, and something is telling him he should bring this.

"Will?"

William blinks, looking up from the locket to Ronald who is looking curiously at him. Obviously, he’d missed whatever question the younger reaper tried to ask. "I apologise, Ronald, what is it?"

"I asked, what’re you doin’ with that? Have another idea how to open it?"

"No," William answers, tucking the locket into his pocket. "Rather, a part of me believes I should take it with us."

Ronald clicks his tongue. "Y’know, in this place, that’s either gonna kill us or save us."

"Let’s hope for the latter. Right, shall we go?"

"I wanna see your hand first," Ronald tells him, holding out his own. "Make sure it’s tryin’ to heal at least." William glances at his wrapped hand before offering it to Ronald, and Ronald carefully unwraps the cloth. Neither of them are surprised to see the wound remains with a perfect straight hole straight through his palm. However, there is more of that healing pink colour around the edges, which is a good sign at the very least. "Looks better than when you first got it," Ronald mutters, inspecting it closely. "Can you move your fingers yet?"

William tries, but the movement is limited. "Not fully."

"Well, it’s progress at least."

William frowns at the injury. "I still dislike how prominent it is."

"Yeah, me too. Let’s hope when we do get home, this’ll heal like it’s nothing."

"I hope."

Ronald re-wraps William’s hand, his touch careful. Once finished, he brings William’s hand to his lips and kisses the underside of his wrist. "Maybe that’ll help." William doesn’t quite know how to reply to that, but his eyes tell Ronald what he couldn’t find the words for, and it makes him smile almost bashfully. "Now c’mon. Let’s get to the lake and hope we’re alone when we get there."

When they step out of the hotel and back onto the main road, however, it’s as if the town itself wants to keep them away. The wind is incredibly strong, a force to walk against, whipping their clothes and hair. Telephone wires swing violently overhead and branches of trees appear to be on the verge of snapping completely off; echoes from the alleys sound as things are blown over. Ronald flinches as a dried leaf slaps against his cheek. He’s holding his arms in front of his eyes, a little relieved to see William struggling just as much as he is. "This is the worst the wind’s been!" he hears William semi-shout above the constant gusts.

“It’s not a good sign, is it?!"

"No! It’s never a good omen!"

The journey takes longer than it should, Ronald swearing he’s about to be blown off his feet a few times. Each step itself feels laboured, every gust of wind like a warning. William seems to notice his struggling, as he is himself, so he grabs Ronald’s arm, pulling him forward. Both use the other as a sort of anchor to make it to their destination.

The moment they step foot on the lake’s shore, the wind suddenly dies. Ronald stumbles forward a bit and William plants his feet firmly in the ground to avoid completely toppling over. He adjusts his glasses, staring at the eerily still lake. It’s as if it is untouched by the wind, the watery surface almost acting like a mirror. "I hope it’s not just me when I say this place gives me the creeps," Ronald comments, peering over his shoulder. "Especially since…especially since this is where the sacrificing happens."

"I feel the unease as well," William assures him. "But it’s best we don’t dwell on it."

"Kinda hard not to when we’re standing right here."

William glances back at him before daring to step right up to where the water meets the shore. He kneels down and reaches out, dragging his fingers through the water. Unlike what he expects, the water’s texture feels almost tar-like. It’s thick and reminds him of the stuff he saw on the back of that ornate mirror. Yet when he pulls his fingers out, the water drips from them like a proper liquid. "Odd."

"Pretty sure you can say that about this entire place," Ronald comments, anxiously bouncing from one foot to the other. "So, what are we lookin’ for?"

"I wish I knew." He stands up, looking to his right then to his left. He moves to the only other interesting thing in the vicinity, which is the dock that leads out into the lake. It’s weathered, the boards looking like they can barely handle any weight, some even completely missing, having fallen into the water. He puts one foot on and tests the sturdiness before stepping fully on it. It groans, but otherwise, it seems to hold his weight. "Don’t fall in, okay?" Ronald tells him.

"I’ll try not to," he says over his shoulder. Carefully, he makes his way down the dock, testing each step forward and avoiding the planks that creak worse than the rest until he finally reaches the end. Peering down into the water, he can just barely see something glinting at the bottom of the lake, catching what little sunlight is breaking through the grey clouds.

"Anything?!"

William glances back at Ronald then motions for the younger reaper to join. Ronald does, though slowly, cautiously making his way toward William, avoiding the same overly creaky planks. "There’s something down there."

Ronald sees it too. He also notices how thin this water looks compared to the darker, thicker water all around them. It’s like this is the only place that someone could…he slowly looks at William and swallows, knowing what the older reaper is probably thinking. "You…wanna go down there, don’t you?"

"I don’t want to, but I feel we must."

" Or we can live. That’s a nice option too. I mean, we just started this thing, and I like where it’s goin’, don’t wanna mess that up, right?"

William crosses his arms, continuing to stare down into the lake. "I know you’re worried, but this is the only lead we have at the moment. That woman, their leader we can presume, was standing here, and there’s clearly something down there."

Ronald shivers, rubbing the goose pimples from his arms, staring into the lake as well. "You…you might have a point." He looks at William again. "Thing is, I dunno how to swim that well."

William looks at him now. "You don’t?"

"Not really. I mean, I know enough not to drown, but deep diving? That’s well outta my depth."

William rolls his shoulders. "Swimming isn't my biggest concern. It’s holding our breath. You’re right, we are essentially human here, and humans need air to breathe."

Ronald grimaces. "Oh yeah. Good point…"

After thinking on it for a moment longer, William starts shrugging out of his blazer. "Right, I’ll go."

Ronald just stares at him. "You…will? What about your back?"

"We don’t have many options," William reminds him, unbuttoning his dress shirt once he’s folded up his blazer. "You said yourself that you’re not a strong swimmer, and I used to be decent before the injury. I think I can manage the dive."

"Yeeeeah, sorry sir, but I don’t like this."

"Then what do you suggest we do instead?"

Ronald opens his mouth, then closes it, a process he does a few times. "Somethin’ less likely to get you killed?"

"Such as?"

Ronald huffs, crossing his arms. "Then what am I supposed to do while you’re down there?! Just stand around waiting for you?!"

"Think of it as more…keeping watch," William tells him, laying his folded shirt on top of his blazer.

Ronald frowns, glancing back at the water. "You’re dead set on this, huh?"

"I want a way out, and I’ll do whatever it takes to get it."

Ronald bounces anxiously on his feet again. He knows William is right, but that doesn’t mean he’s less worried the water will just swallow his superior whole. "Fine, just…be careful, okay? Don’t push yourself. If your back starts hurting or you’re runnin’ outta breath, come right back up."

William turns to him, cupping his cheek. "I will. I promise, I have no intention of dying on you, not when I’m finally allowed these blissful moments with you."

Ronald frowns, lips twitching into a pout. "Okay, no one said you could be smooth."

"I have my moments." He steals a chaste kiss from his partner before facing the lake again. He closes his eyes, breathing deeply a few times. Before Ronald can count to five, he dives in.

The water is ice cold once it hits his skin. It’s pitch black save that one shining object at the bottom. That’s what he keeps his attention on as he swims deeper. He half-expects the water to feel heavier, but it’s deceptively calm.

Then he dives deeper.

That’s when the resistance begins. The water starts to thicken like the rest of the lake, pressing against him as if it’s a living thing. Invisible currents are trying to shove him back, as if warning him to stay away. Swimming becomes a struggle, each stroke more taxing than the last, but he needs to power forward.

His arms cut through the dark, his legs kick steadily; he refuses to yield. The pressure builds around him, unrelenting, and that feeling for air starts creeping up on him. The lungs that he’s used to never really needing are beginning to beg for air.

He does his best to push that need aside, that glimmering getting closer and closer. His muscles burn as he forces himself downward, the pressure growing worse. His vision starts to blur, spots flicking at the edge of his sight, but he doesn’t care. He won’t stop.

Finally, he reaches his goal. He needs to come right up to it to see what the object really is, but his hands enclose around a metal box. There’s nothing special about it; it’s just a small, metal box. He doesn’t do much observing at the moment, desperate to get back to the surface. But just as he plans to kick off from the bottom of the lake, something grabs him.

A hand.

Bony fingers wrap around his wrist, cold and unyielding. They clutch him with unnatural strength. William jolts, panic surging through him like lightning. He claws at the skeletal grip, trying to rip it off. "You belong here too," the voice doesn’t come from above or below; instead, it echoes in his mind—a whisper threaded with malice. Then, another hand grabs his leg and he snaps his head downward, only to now realise he’s staring at a graveyard. There is a pile of skeletons here, skeletons that all try to reach out for him, as if they want the life that they are not allowed to keep. "Just like him. You belong here."

Meanwhile, Ronald stands nervously on the dock, watching the still water. He’s alone. The wind starts to stir a bit but nothing like the violent gusts before. Sounds drift from all directions; sounds he’s not sure are real or just his imagination running rampant with all the horrors that could be lurking out of sight: whispers, distant footsteps, the low groan of something monstrous he swears is drawing closer. It’s enough to make his skin crawl.

He glances at his watch, half expecting to count the minutes, but of course, the hands haven’t moved. Like every clock in this cursed place, it’s stuck at eight, the time the sacrifices occur. He tilts his head to the sky, its slate-grey expanse offering no answers. What’s the purpose of this town? Who created it, and why? He doubts anyone could’ve built this place without knowing some eldritch entity lurks beneath it, waiting for a benefactor to arrive.

Too many minutes pass. With every second William remains underwater, Ronald’s nerves fray. He begins to pace, eyes never leaving the lake’s surface, desperately scanning for any sign of movement. He’s terrified that William got caught on something—or worse, that the thing stalking him found its way into the water and dragged the real William under.

Then, finally, a splash. William breaks the surface, gasping for breath. Ronald immediately drops to his knees, helping hoist William back onto the dock where the older reaper barely passes Ronald a metal container before collapsing onto his back, greedily sucking in air. He coughs a few times and his eyes are squeezed shut. Ronald just stares at him, not sure what he could do to help. "Will? Are you okay?" he asks, putting the box aside to check him over. There are no new wounds on him at least, but his chest is heaving and he looks far too pale.

One more deep inhale later, William finally forces himself to sit up, coughing violently into his hand, having breathed in some water in his rush to get back to the surface. Ronald rubs his back, carefully avoiding the scar that looks worse than it did before he took the dive. "Will?" he asks again.

"I-I’m fine," William forces out, his voice raspy from the coughing.

"What happened? You look like you saw a ghost…again."

William shakes his head, his hand trembling as he brushes his bangs from his eyes. "Skeletons, Ronald. There are skeletons at the bottom of the lake, and they…" He shivers, shaking his head again. "They tried to keep me with them. They told me I belong here just as much as you do."

Ronald just stares at him, either not believing him or having a hard time putting that to a mental picture. "Skeletons…?"

"I-I know how it sounds, but–"

"I believe ya," Ronald assures. "In this place? I believe you, Will. What I don’t believe, or don’t understand I guess, is that you’re meant to be here too? What the hell does that mean?!"

William takes a deep breath in then a long breath out. "I wish I could say, Ronald. I really wish I could."

"Great," he whispers, a chill running down his spine. "Just great." He swallows, then wraps his arms around William’s shoulders, hugging him tight. "Well, whatever. We’ll figure that part out later. I’m just glad you’re okay."

William leans his head against Ronald’s, resting his hand on Ronald’s back as he tries to get his breathing under control. "At least it wasn’t for naught," he comments when Ronald pulls away.

The younger reaper looks at the metal box and puts it on his lap. To his surprise, it isn’t even locked, so he flips open the latches and pushes up the lid. Inside is a chart of dots and correlating letters. "Will…I think this is braille."

William immediately grabs his blazer and finds the locket. He passes it to Ronald, who then matches those dots with the letters that form his surname. The lock clicks open, revealing a folded photo inside. Ronald is rather impressed with how neatly it was folded, but as he sets the locket aside to unfold it, his blood runs colder with each unfold. Eventually, he’s staring at the full photo—the very same one from the suitcase, except the faceless child is no longer faceless. "Will…" he whispers, hardly believing what he’s seeing. That child…it’s him.

William, once he’s pulled back on his shirt and blazer, looks at the photo, and he’s just as surprised as Ronald is. "It’s you."

"I know it’s me! But…how?!" Ronald’s beginning to tremble. "I’ve got no idea what this place is."

"It seems to imply you belong to this town. That your family does belong here," William states, continuing to study the photo, eyes narrowed. "There has to be some record of your family that we’ve missed."

Ronald feels that rage bubbling again, but now it’s mixed with horror and confusion. "Will…Will, I don’t like this."

William runs his hand over his shoulders. "I know, but you’re with me, and you’ll be alright, understood? I promise."

Ronald closes his eyes and nods, trusting William to be right. "We could check the filing cabinet in the office of the hotel again?" he suggests, crumpling up the photo and shoving it and the locket into the metal container. "Now that we know what we’re lookin’ for, could probably find somethin’."

"Good idea," William agrees, finally forcing himself to his feet. "Let’s not waste another second." Ronald is sure he wants to leave so quickly because he wants this solved as much as Ronald does, but he’s also sure it’s because the lake bothers him greatly now. He sees it in the wary way William watches the deathly still water.

"Let me just get rid of this," Ronald tells him before chucking the metal container back into the water. It hits the surface of the lake with a splash, and they watch it start to sink to the very bottom where Ronald believes it should stay for good. "Okay. We can go."

Ronald grabs William’s arm and pulls him off and away from the dock. The hotel is the only place he truly feels safe, even with its cramped rooms and dusty corners, because being out in the open like this makes him feel far too vulnerable. Maybe it’s a false sense of comfort, but it’s better than this. "Ronald."

He barely hears William’s voice and doesn’t want to stop, but William halts him as they just barely return to the main road. "What?" he demands, realising just how weak his voice sounds. William says nothing; he simply pulls Ronald into his arms. Ronald remains still as stone, trying to control these emotions he doesn’t like he’s having, but the longer William holds him, the tighter his arms get, eventually coercing Ronald to sink into his embrace. He grips the back of William’s blazer like a lifeline, pressing his face into the crook of William’s neck and shoulder. The world feels upside down, and for all he knows, the town is twisting reality itself. Maybe it really isn’t him or his family that’s connected here, but even if it is, just seeing it implied, makes him sick to his stomach.

"I can’t say I understand how you’re feeling, but remember what I told you. A name, even blood, does not make you a part of them," William assures him, stroking his fingers through the back of Ronald’s hair.

Ronald just clutches tighter to him. The one thing he isn’t questioning right now is William. William is warm. Solid. Real. It’s the same comfort he felt drifting off in the same arms the night before. "I know I said it before," he mumbles against William’s neck, "but I’m never drinkin’ again."

William chuckles softly, his hand now tracing slow circles over Ronald’s back. "A wise choice regardless."

Ronald huffs a small laugh. "Somehow, figured you’d say somethin’ like that."

William feels a flicker of relief at the slight lift in Ronald’s voice—that brief moment of respite is ruined as the air suddenly thickens around them. The shift is instant. Ronald lifts his head, and William glances around for anything that could be the source of the sudden tension; each shadow looks darker now, every sound suddenly amplified. Then, they hear the chanting, and it’s coming from all directions, surrounding them. Immediately, both men snap to attention, moving instinctively to stand back-to-back, guarding one another’s blind spots. William’s hand flicks outward in muscle memory only to cuss himself under his breath. He should know by now that no scythe will come to him, no matter how hard he tries to materialise it.

From the shrouded edges of the alleys, cloaked figures begin to emerge, gliding out the dark like shadows made flesh; it’s the same mob that was sent after them by that woman. Their movements are eerily soundless save for the low, unintelligible chanting that ripples from their covered mouths. Ronald grips William’s arm with white-knuckled desperation, trying to ensure they stay together even as it seems hopeless to think they’ll escape this.

The mob surrounds them, closing in so tightly, there is barely breathing space left. Only a small, shrinking circle separates the two reapers from the crowd. "Look," Ronald begins, trying for diplomacy despite the tremor in his voice, "I think there’s some sorta misunderstanding. I don’t think you think we’re the ones you want, right? Mistaken identity?"

"I am afraid, there is no misunderstanding," a familiar voice cuts through the air. The moment she speaks, the chanting dies down as the crowd parts to allow the figure through. It’s the woman from the lake, the one who commanded the mob before. "And no mistaken identity. I would know my own son no matter how many years have passed." Ronald’s throat dries up, staring at the woman in disbelief.

William instinctively moves in front of Ronald. "You must forgive us," he says, his voice cautious, "for not knowing the rules of this place, or for even daring to believe that you are his mother."

Despite being unable to see her face, William feels her eyes trail over him, and he tenses even more, preparing himself for any sort of attack. "Spears." She says his name almost like it’s a relief. "A Spears. I did not think a member of your family would return and yet, our Star has blessed us today."

William narrows his eyes. "Excuse me?"

"Your father told me you were leaving to bring others to our blissful little town, and I believed him. He’d been so loyal up until then, and your mother, she would follow him to the ends of the earth. You were only just a child, and I do not blame you for your parents’ mistake. The only reason they are alive today is because I had no one else I could trust to indict the same punishment they had upon the Slingbys."

William just stares at her, for he has no words for what he’s just been told. "You lie," is all he can eventually force out. "You lie. My parents would have never been a part of…this."

"Callum Spears," she tells him, and that is answer enough. "He was the principal of the elementary, and he kept such a tight hold on his rules. The poor children that broke them learned to never do so again."

Ronald is in just as much awe as William is, and it clicks now why the supposed principal he and the other William met at the school reminded him so much of his superior… "Bullshite," Ronald speaks up, shouldering past William, "you’re not my mum, and you’re lyin’ to Will."

"Am I? Then I will prove it to you." She reaches for her hood, and when she pulls it down, both reapers recoil. Her face is scarred, deep gouges running where her eyes once were, empty sockets gazing without sight. It looks like something ripped her eyes from her skull. "I am your mother, Ronald."

She has to be right because she’s also the woman from the photographs and from the picture with the plaque. Rebecca Knox. "How…?" is all he can ask.

"The woman that stole you from me was my sister. She’s the reason I no longer have the sight I used to. I was punished for her misdeeds. For her interference."

"You expect us to believe you?" William’s voice is ice-cold, a tone Ronald’s only really ever heard when he’s run out of patience. "You’re the reason this place has gone to hell, isn’t it? And what? You plan to drag Knox and I down with you?"

"Oh, William," she reaches for his face, "I–"

William snatches her hand, gripping it so tightly, he’s inches away from snapping it. "Do not. Touch me."

Her brief surprise is quickly replaced by a smile. "Yes. Just like your father. An iron fist."

William throws her arm to the side. "Speak of my father again and I–"

"Will do nothing." She reminds him. "I’m afraid being a reaper does not make you invincible here. Your hand is a grand example of that." William clearly despises the woman, Ronald sees it in his eyes and he can’t say he blames him. "Now, we can continue to chat out in the open where Ronan can hear us, or, you can follow me to a safe place where his curse cannot reach."

"Ronan?" Ronald asks.

"Your older brother, Ronald. My firstborn. The child I promised to never offer up." She sounds almost upset by those words. "Alas, my sister forced my hand."

William takes his eyes off the woman for a second, scanning the crowd around them, seeing if there’s a way he could force his way through, but unfortunately, they are blocked in too tightly. He doesn’t like it, but following her is the only choice they have at the moment. "Fine," he says through gritted teeth. "We will go with you."

Ronald blinks at him, surprise evident in his eyes. "Will?"

"We have no other choice, Ronald," he says to his companion, but his focus remains on Rebecca.

"You have made a wonderful choice, William." She turns and the crowd parts again as she walks past them. "Follow me."

Ronald leans close to William, whispering, "I really don’t like this…"

"Nor do I, but again, we have no other choice."

Unfortunately, William’s right. "I guess not…"

The woman walks ahead, and they follow close behind, the mob trailing them like a silent procession. Ronald’s fingers find William’s and clutch tightly, ready for a fight if it comes. He’s reassured to feel William gripping back just as firmly.

As they walk, Ronald doubts they are going anywhere until, from the fog, a building emerges–tall, stately, and eerily pristine. It looms like a relic untouched by time, its brickwork a deep, mottled grey that seems to absorb the dim light rather than reflect it. Ivy clings to its walls in thick veins. Tall windows, arched and narrow, glow faintly from within, casting no clear shapes, only the impression that something, or someone, might already be watching from inside.

Atop its gabled roof, a cracked clock face stands permanently frozen at eight. The heavy double doors, carved with the same symbol Ronald saw etched into the school desk, are made of dark, polished wood, as though recently varnished despite the building’s otherwise ancient appearance. Thick columns frame the entrance, each etched with winding symbols and old words neither reaper recognises. "Our town hall," the woman announces, standing on the first stone step. "Here, you are safe from his curse. Within these walls, you will sleep undisturbed, and dine on food untouched by time."

William steps forward slightly. "Then I can assume only those in your presence may see this place?"

She smiles, pleased. "Indeed. Just like your father." She ascends the stairs further. "Come. We will talk when we’re comfortable."

Ronald tightens his grip on William’s hand, whispering to him again. "She still creeps me out."

"I do not have the best feeling about her either," William whispers in turn. "But we’ll get our answers then find a way to leave."

"Hey."

William’s head snaps around so fast, Ronald flinches. Standing only a few feet away is Oliver, his expression strangely wounded as he watches them follow the woman. "Well?" she calls from the steps. "I do not hear your following." William shares a long look with Ronald before he begins to ascend the stairs himself. Ronald lingers, eyes locked on Oliver’s distant form before following William up and inside the building, continuously staring at Oliver until the heavy doors of the town hall swing shut behind them, sealing the outside world away.

Chapter Text

Instead of a town hall, the interior appears to be a makeshift chapel. Rows of old, wooden pews line up, facing the front of the building where a worn, splintered podium stands. The mob that trails inside behind them disperses, drifting into smaller groups and murmuring in the darker corners of the main entrance. “Do you feel it?” the woman asks, her tone breathy, relief and reverence present, “do you feel how safe you are now? How free you are from his curse?”

William tightens his grip on Ronald’s hand. “Curse or not, I believe we’re owed answers.”

“We will discuss once you’ve both had something to eat. I’m sure the two of you are famished.”

“How do we know you’re not gonna poison us?” Ronald pipes up, fully on edge.

“I wouldn’t poison my own son.” she tells him, speaking over her shoulder. “Now come. The both of you.”

Ronald remains firmly planted where he stands, holding William back as well. He waits until she’s a decent distance from them before he asks the older reaper, “there’s no way she’s my mum. She’s gotta be lying. Lying about all of this.”

William glances back at the woman, then at Ronald again, wanting to believe that she’s not, but she’s far too confident in what she tells him about his own family that he’s not quite sure what to believe. “Perhaps.” is all he can answer. “Although, we do have to wonder why she’d lie about such a thing.”

“What do you mean why? Will, she wants us to trust her and what kid doesn’t wanna trust their mother, especially since mine was already so shitty.”

“And how would she know that?”

Ronald’s bravado suddenly dims as William does have a point. How would she know? She may be the leader of this town, but she doesn’t seem omnipresent. All things considered, she felt and appeared to be like a normal reaper and normal reapers weren’t privy to information not told to them. “I…guess you have a point.”

William glances over his shoulder again, only slightly bothered by the fact he can no longer see the woman. “As strange and abhorrent as this place is, I do applaud you for being suspicious. Who knows what tricks this town can really play, so yes, keep your guard up, but at the moment, she has answers to questions I myself need to ask.”

Ronald swallows. That’s true. William was just told his family’s just as connected here as his was. “Okay…okay, I’ll bite my tongue for now. But the moment something fishy happens, we’re gone, got it?”

William flashes him a short smile, “understood.”

Ronald squeezes his hand as reassurance. “Good. Then–”

Hands are suddenly on both their shoulders and they’re forced down the same hallway the woman walked. Ronald actively struggles, trying to fight off the hands while William keeps himself composed for the moment, feeling something even more unnatural about these reapers. One of them’s the same being that carried the body of the boy during the ritual and even witnessing this being from afar, William was offset by them. Their larger frame’s even more noticeable being this close to them and he fears for a moment that Ronald might just be crushed by the other, larger, reaper if he continues to struggle.

They’re forced through a door and into a room that resembles a dining hall, though it carries the same neglected chill as the rest of the town. A long table—really two tables pushed together—sits in the centre, draped with a faded blue runner embroidered on either end with that same symbol from the doors and on the school desk. Shelves line the walls, mostly empty and an unlit fireplace sits at the far end of the room, leaving what would be an inviting meal to be as cold as the rest of this place. “There you are.” says the woman, standing politely in front of the table. “I was afraid you’d gotten lost.”

“Get your hands off.” Ronald demands, finally yanking himself away from the strangely strong grip.

“Ah, please ignore them. They tend to get a bit forceful when my demands are not met or ignored. Now,” she claps her hands, then gestures to the table, “please, indulge. While I would prefer we ration what we have, I dislike that my son has gone hungry for so long.”

William places a protective hand on Ronald’s back, his eyes never leaving the woman until they’re right at the table's edge. He surveys the food; most of it’s in cans or containers but there’s a specific meal that’s been laid out for them: a full English. To William’s concealed surprise, it even looks edible, especially compared to what he’d seen in the diner. “What’re you thinkin’?” Ronald whispers. “Safe to eat?”

“It appears to be.” William admits, though he’s still cautious.

“You think it’s drugged? Poisoned? Do you think we’re gonna be okay if we eat it?” Now that’s a question William can’t answer. While the food looks fine, eating it’s another matter entirely.

Once again, there are suddenly overly strong hands that clamp down on their shoulders, forcing them down into chairs, the wood creaking under the strength these reapers used. “Hands off!” Ronald shouts, clearly ready for a fight if need be.

William, though, still holds his composure, automatically putting his hand on Ronald’s arm to hopefully calm him down. He knows, feels, even if they still had all their supernatural reaper abilities, a fight with one of these beings—he’s hesitant now to call them reapers—would end horribly for them. He can’t even get a glimpse of their face despite how possible it should have been from the angle. “As I told you, they enforce what I demand but I do apologise they’re so rough about it. They are the guardian of the Star. Guardian’s our Star has blessed me with control over.” she answers, perhaps knowing William was about to question their existence. “Now please. Eat.”

William looks down at the plate; it’s still steaming, indicating it’d been freshly made. It looks genuine, but he still hesitates. It could easily be a trap—a trick designed to lure them into a false sense of security, yet, the scent of warm food drifts upward and before he can steel himself against it, his stomach betrays him with a loud growl. An immediate flush consumes his face and he clears his throat awkwardly, “my, ah, my apologies.”

Ronald gives him a fraction of a smile, nudging him playfully, “we’re even now.”

William matches that brief smile before turning back to the woman. “We will eat but I believe we’re both more inclined to have answers at the moment.”

Her smile is both soft and unsettling. “Eat.”

William sits up a little straighter, even if she can’t outright see him do it. He’s dealt with the stubborn types many times and he hopes he’ll be able to work with her. “Your name is Rebecca, yes?”

“It is.”

“Then Rebecca, I’m sure we can have a civilised conversation if you joined us. Kill two birds with one stone, as it were. We have this wonderful meal that’s been laid out for us, graciously by you, I’m sure and then we may also have our questions answered.”

“Eat.”

The moment those words are said, his head is yanked back by his hair and a forkful of egg is rammed into his mouth. He swallows instinctively, choking as he coughs into his hand when he’s pushed forward as he’s let go. The intrusion burns down his throat and Ronald quickly pats his back in an attempt to help dislodge anything that might be stuck. “What the hell was that for?!” Ronald demands, glaring at the cloaked figure who’s already melted back into the shadows.

William swallows again, wincing, feeling as if his throat is bruised. “Surely that was a reasonable request.” he manages to say despite the strain in his voice.

“If I were to eat the food provided to our guests, then what type of host would I be?” William glares at her in contempt now, because even here, he’s to be reminded of that devil in his side from years past. “Now, I will not say it again. Eat.” Reluctantly, William picks up the fork and takes a proper bite, chewing slowly. Ronald watches the cloaked reapers idly before following suit. “Excellent.” she says with a smile. “Enjoy your meal. I shall return when you’re finished.” She leaves after that, the cloaked figures following after her.

As the door closes behind them, Ronald sets his fork down and turns to William, worry clear on his face. “You alright?”

William sets his own fork aside, rubbing his throat. “I’ll be fine…I believe.” he glances at the door. “While I regret following her, we really didn’t have much other choice.”

“Wasn’t the smartest idea, but yeah, didn't really have another one.” Ronald agrees with a sigh, “hopefully we’ll get those answers because I need to know the full story.”

William picks up his fork again, poking at the eggs. “As do I.” he scoops up another forkful, “and I also hate to say it, but I believe we should finish this meal. I don’t doubt she’s watching us somehow.”

“I feel it.” Ronald says, cutting off a bite of sausage, “hate to admit it though, it tastes good.”

William pushes around the eggs then cuts off a bite of black pudding, examining it for any oddities before taking a bite. “It does indeed. I’m rather surprised it’s not tampered with.”

“That we know of. Could be a slow-acting aphrodisiac.” Ronald mutters with a crooked smile.

William raises an eyebrow. “And why would they give us that?”

“Repopulation? Another sacrifice?” Ronald suggests with an off-hand shrug, “I mean, they left us alone and it seems like it’d be a cult kinda thing.”

William looks down at his plate, the idea both disturbing and, particularly for him, painful. His heart sinks as he’s reminded of his affliction, of one of the reasons why he’d always feel like a failure in his parents’ eyes. “Yes. It does.”

Ronald must hear the shift in his voice because he suddenly watches him closely. “Are you okay Will?”

“I am, yes.”

Ronald scoots his chair a little closer to William, the tips of his fingers brushing against William’s arm, “you sure? Like, you’re absolutely sure nothin’s wrong?”

William quietly chuckles and decides to lie. “I promise.”

“And you still trust me?”

William fully faces Ronald, cupping his companion’s cheek, Ronald reactively placing his hand over William’s. “I still trust you, Ronald.”

Ronald initiates a kiss without thinking, pressing his lips to William’s with more urgency than the older reaper expected but William doesn’t mind. He lets his hand drop from Ronald’s cheek to rest on his thigh, drawing slow, soothing circles with his fingertip. Ronald sighs into the kiss, trying to shift closer, his own hand cupping William’s side as leverage to keep William in place as he leans in even closer but the moment Ronald’s hand slips just a little too low on William’s hip, it’s like a switch is flicked in them both.

Simultaneously they jump apart, breathless and wide-eyed. William glances down at their plates of food then back at Ronald, his brain coming back online when all he’d just been doing felt instinctual rather than thought out. “That must have been the placebo effect.”

Ronald nods, his lips tingling from the kiss. “Oh yeah. Definitely. Because they wouldn’t actually lace our food with aphrodisiac…right?”

William slowly nods. “Right. Of course not…unless you’re spot on with that repopulation idea.”

Ronald pales, a visible shiver crawling over him as he shoves his plate away with a grimace. “Right. Yeah, that’s enough reason for me to never eat again.”

“I concur.” William agrees.

Ronald rubs the back of his neck, trying to banish the cold settling into his bones. “Will, I think we should leave and I think…” he sighs heavily, “look, I know I said I wanted to save those kids, but I’m worried about savin’ ourselves first. Gettin’ outta here needs to be our first priority and then we can come back with more reapers, right? Come back more prepared?”

The suggestion seems to relieve William. “Brilliant idea.” he shoves himself out of the seat, the chair scraping across the stone floor. “I believe we should start by leaving this bloody building.” However, his direct announcement of leaving is foiled when he tries the door. Of course, it’s locked. “Bollocks.” he grunts, trying again. “She really wants us in here until we’re finished eating.”

Ronald groans in frustration, slumping back into the chair he was already eagerly halfway out of. “Can’t even say I’m surprised.”

“There has to be some other way out of here.” William comments, already observing the windows but they’re all boarded up and without his usual strength, breaking through would draw far too much noise. “Help me look, Knox. Perhaps we’ll find something.”

Ronald exhales sharply then nods to himself before forcing himself back to his feet. “I can do that.” He takes one side of the room while William takes the other but his search doesn’t go very well when his eyes land on the emblem embroidered into the runner. “Just, one thing first.” he says to William, pulling the older reaper’s attention toward him, “you seen this anywhere else?”

William lifts the end of the runner, examining the embroidered symbol before shaking his head. “No. Have you?”

“Once. The other you and me found it on a school desk. The same desk where we found that family photo.”

“You did?” William cups his own chin. “Then I’d assume it was some form of family crest or symbol.”

Ronald crosses his arms. “If it is…if it’s for my family, then, the withered roots aren’t a good sign.”

“No, it’s not, which means an even better reason to find a way out of here.” Ronald’s more eager than he was just moments ago, almost feeling claustrophobic with the way they’re locked in this room. A part of him expects the room to suddenly fill with poisonous gas or for someone to eventually grab them and take them to Styx knew where. The only thing that’s keeping him relatively calm at the moment, is William. The older reaper’s calm himself, searching for their way out like they’re not in a maybe dangerous situation.

As a last-ditch idea, Ronald kneels down in front of the fireplace, wondering if they could somehow shimmy up the chimney, but as he leans in to look up, something catches his eye. Scratches. There are faint scratches around one of the bricks. He touches them, trying to ignore how deep they are for being in stone, how desperate whoever they belonged to must have been. Instead, he focuses on the fact that the brick feels loose and with only a bit of pressure, the brick comes free when he pushes on it, falling to the other side of the wall with a dull thud. “Huh.” he glances over his shoulder. “Hey Will, found somethin’.”

William joins him, crouching down beside him to examine the space where the brick once sat. “I don’t want to hold our breath, but you may have found a way out. There appears to be another room back there.”

“That’s what I’m hopin’ for.” Ronald replies, pressing on another brick and it, too, gives way with ease. One by one, he pushes out enough bricks to create a gap wide enough for them to crawl through.

He slips inside first, brushing ash from his hands when he stands inside the new room. The hidden chamber’s shrouded in dust, the air thick and stale. Sunlight barely filters through veiled windows, the curtains draped in heavy, moth-eaten fabric but what catches his attention most, is the grand organ that sits in the centre of the room. It’s ornate and ancient, its wood warped by time and lined with silver pipes that stretch toward the ceiling like skeletal fingers. “Wow…” Ronald breathes, taking it all in.

“Fascinating.” William agrees, standing next to him. “I haven’t seen an instrument like this in decades.”

Ronald’s still admiring the room as he walks with William toward the grand pipe organ, before shifting his attention toward it. It certainly is a grand instrument, something only offset by missing keys while there’s blood staining others. “Do you think you could play it?” Ronald asks, pressing one of the bloodied keys, but nothing happens.

“Play it?” William studies the instrument, wondering that himself. “Perhaps if it had all the keys to play it with. I can’t imagine it’s much different than a piano.”

“Wouldn't know since I can’t play either.” Ronald jokes, then presses one of the clean keys—a piercing, inhuman screech bursts from the pipes.

The sound is unbearable. It echoes violently through the chamber, vibrating through their bones, worming into their skulls. It’s not just a sound—it’s a cry, a scream of agony and rage, as if a thousand lost souls are shrieking for salvation all at once.

Ronald clutches his head, staggering. William does the same. The pressure builds, unbearable. And then—

Darkness.

They both collapse to the floor, unconscious.

********************

The ringing in his head gets quieter and quieter the more conscious he becomes. He groans, his eyelids fluttering open and he blinks rapidly as the world comes into focus. Immediately, he knows something’s wrong—he’s in a makeshift hospital wing.

He pushes himself upright with a grunt, one hand rubbing the side of his head as if he could massage the ache away. It doesn’t help. “Knox! You’re awake. Finally.”

William's voice cuts through the haze and soon enough, the man himself comes into view. Ronald realises the older reaper’s hands are gripping his shoulders, his usual composed face wracked with worry. “Uh…yeah.” Ronald mumbles, squinting at him. “Got a killer headache though.”

“That doesn’t matter. We have to go. Now.”

“Go? Where? What’s happenin’? Where even are we?”

“It doesn’t matter, just get up and follow me. If we don’t leave now, we may not leave at all.”

Ronald still doesn’t understand but the urgency in William’s voice makes him move faster than he wants to. Or really can. William must have thought so at least, because the moment his feet touch the floor, William’s arms hook under his, hauling him upright and the world spins. “Ugh, Will, can we slow down a bit?”

“No. We need to go.”

“Go wh–?” The question dies in his throat as William suddenly lifts him, cradling him like he weighs nothing. Ronald gasps, his legs kicking for the ground that’s no longer there. “Will?!”

“Quiet.” William snaps, eyes sharp as they lock ahead. Ronald clings to him, arms around William’s neck as the man runs. He barely keeps his eyes open as the world tilts and spins leaving him hardly any idea of where they’re going but he knows they’re outside when the cold air slaps him across the face. It drags a startled gasp from his lungs.

Wind howls around them as William runs through the streets and only when the hotel comes into view, does he finally slow then stop entirely. He sets Ronald down in front of the building with remarkable care, being sure the younger reaper’s able to stand on his own before letting go of him completely. “There. We should be safe now.” He says with more confidence than the eyes scanning the area around them would lead Ronald to believe.

Ronald wipes at his eyes, trying to get back some clarity into his vision. “What’s goin’ on Will? Can you answer that now?”

William hesitates. Something’s troubled him. “I’m afraid what happened is best left unsaid. What I saw…is hard to explain.”

“What you saw?”

“I will tell you in time, I swear, but right now…I cannot.”

Ronald studies him, the uncharacteristic edge of fear in William’s voice bothers him more than he expected it to. Despite all they’d been through, he’s not once heard William’s voice take this meek, cowardly, cadence. “Will…”

“I promise.” William says more firmly this time, reaching out and taking Ronald’s hands. “Just not right now.”

Ronald exhales slowly, “fine. At least we got out. Honestly, that felt too easy after getting knocked out…” he offers a sheepish smile, “sorry about that.”

William shakes his head. “We had no idea what any of those keys might do beyond making sounds. That…that screeching caught us both off guard.”

Ronald chuckles weakly. “What about your back? Does it hurt after carrying me like that?”

William rolls his shoulders with a grunt. “I’ll survive. Once we get to our hotel room, I’ll take my painkillers and that should help.” he gestures toward the hotel, “now let’s get inside and regroup. I dislike being out in the open like–”

“William?!” William freezes mid-sentence. The reaction is so sudden it’s almost comical. He turns slowly, as if dreading what he’ll see. Ronald watches his eyes go wide behind his glasses, his own hardly believing what he’s seeing. A woman approaches, hesitant at first but quicker and quicker the more sure that she’s seeing William in the flesh before she outright hugs him, embracing him tightly in her arms. Ronald can see a resemblance between them and it begins to click on who this woman is. “William, you’re alive.” the woman almost sobs, clutching tighter to him. “When we heard you were missing, we immediately came to look for you.” William stands stiffly in her embrace, arms rigid at his sides, gaze still locked ahead of him as if she were a ghost. Her warmth isn’t returned.

“Your mother greets you after fearing you dead and you don’t even react?” says a man who’d been following along behind her, his tone sharp with disapproval.

All Ronald needs to do is look at the man and he recognises him almost instantly. “Y-You’re…” the accusation dies on his lips as he stares at this man then snaps to the woman and the information Rebecca told them before slowly sinks in until he puts two and two together. “you’re his mum?!” he snaps his head back to the man, “and you’re his—his dad?!”

“We are.” the woman confirms, stepping back with disappointment written all over her face. “William? Please, speak to us. I…I understand you must have so many questions.”

Normally, Ronald would find William’s reaction strange as well, but considering what he was told, that his parents not only lived here, but were aware of the happenings of this town and had a hand in the murder of Eric’s parents, he can’t blame William for the blank slate he’s wearing on his face. “I…I apologise.” William says, taking a step back. “I was just…surprised to see you.”

“Considerin’ what we found out about you two, he doesn’t need to talk to you either.” Ronald crosses his arms, standing almost defensively in front of William.

“What on earth are you talking about?” the man asks, looking exasperated about the whole thing.

“We know about you two. About your past. Isn't that right, principal?”

The shock that flashes across the man’s face tells Ronald that Rebecca wasn’t lying to them. She was right. William’s parents were intimately involved in the rituals that took place here. “Ignoring us will not make the matter disappear, William. We can at least discuss this, privately.”

William doesn’t react, at least outwardly he doesn’t. His face remains blank. “I’ll be in our room.” he tells Ronald before disappearing into the hotel.

Ronald blinks, watching him go before he faces the other two again, his bravado failing without William there to back him up. “Erm, well…this wasn’t how I planned things to go.” he mutters, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Are you Ronald then?” the woman asks, clearly hurt from how William completely dismissed them.

“Yeah. Yeah, I am. Ronald Knox.”

The immediate look on their faces when he announces who he is nearly makes him cower. “Knox.” they say in unison then the man’s face twists into an expression of pure ire. “Rebecca’s son?”

“I…guess, technically, yeah…?”

Ronald's full body flinches when the man’s so suddenly in front of him, ready to punch him, but the woman’s touch calms him down enough that Ronald quickly backs up to put that distance back between them. “It’s not his fault, Callum.” she tells him. “He’s only her child. He’s not her.”

“Kimiko–”

“Stop it.”

The man, now named Callum, eventually realises his wife’s right and he breathes in then out, lowering his arm. “Correct. He isn’t her.”

Ronald swallows, taking another step back. “I’m gonna go and check on Will…our room’s three-fifteen if you wanna find us.” he heads inside, up the stairs and finds their door William left slightly ajar. He pushes it open and finds William standing at the window. “Oi! Your dad was just about to punch my lights out!” Ronald shouts as soon as he enters the room. “And knowing both of them—Will?” He grabs William’s shoulder, spinning him around then stops. William’s eyes are strange. They’re distant. Empty. “Will? Hey, Will. What’s wrong?”

William blinks, slowly focusing on him. The vacant look gradually lifts, replaced by something more William. “Yes.” he says quietly, “I’m fine.”

“You sure? Because you don’t look fine.”

“I am fine, Ronald,” William insists, cupping Ronald’s cheeks with both hands. His touch is warm but there’s something still strange about it, like he’s trying to convince them both of his words, “I promise.”

The gesture feels familiar and foreign all at once and Ronald can’t decide if it’s the way William’s holding him, or if it’s just the fog that still clings to his thoughts. His body still aches and the room feels far too still. “Okay.” Ronald forces a smile, “I believe ya, but, how are you doin’? It’s kinda obvious that Rebecca was tellin’ the truth about your folks, so…”

William’s expression falls as he drops his hands. “I can’t answer that right now. There are many feelings swirling inside me and not one I can properly vocalise. I just want answers.”

“So do I.” Ronald agrees and then, Kimiko and Callum enter the room almost cautiously. Callum looks dubious of the room while Kimiko’s eyes are only on William. Ronald wants to say she’s relieved but there feels like there’s something else in her gaze as well. “I know it’s sketchy, but the room’s safe.” Ronald tells them.

“In this place, that’s hard to believe.” Callum replies, crossing his arms.

“What should matter at the moment, is that we’ve finally found our son.” Kimiko says with near tears in her eyes.

“Please, forgive my earlier reaction.” William apologises with a bow. “I thought you were another trick of this town.”

Kimiko walks toward him then reaches out to brush a few strands of hair from William’s eyes when he straightens up; William automatically flinches, almost surprised to have her do something so motherly. “As we feared you were.” she sympathises. “You’ve no idea how worried I’ve been.”

Callum steps forward, placing a firm hand on his son’s shoulder. “We both were.”

“If that were true, you two would’ve told me of this place earlier.” William snaps, pushing off Callum’s hand.

Callum sighs, glancing at his wife before looking William in the eyes. “We were worried if we told you about Haven, this place would come for you.”

“Like you had for the Slingby’s?”

Callum’s eye twitches. “I refuse to discuss this in Haven. We will return home before we have any sort of talk about past events.”

“And if we say we don’t trust you because of that?” William counters, putting his hand on Ronald’s back. “Forgive me father, but the only one I completely trust at the moment is Knox.” Ronald feels that hand press a little harder against him, like a reassurance he’s really there, “I doubt I would’ve made it this far without him.”

Ronald turns a bright shade of red under Kimiko’s sudden scrutiny and he quickly rubs the back of his neck. “Yeah…”

Seeing the tension he’s caused, William removes his hand from Ronald, folding his arms behind his back, retreating into his usual posture. “William?” Kimiko asks tentatively, “are the two of you…?”

“No, mother.” William answers. “We’re not.” Ronald’s stomach drops and he winces out of sight when he hears those words. “Regardless,” he continues, “perhaps…perhaps I was a bit too hasty before. You’re here now and I, as well as Knox, I’m sure, are eager to return home.”

Ronald blinks. Now he wants to go home? Where’s the demand for answers? The distrust? Why does that suddenly vanish? Yes, Ronald wants to go home, William’s right, but he also wants answers, answers he feels they’re both owed, “sir–”

“At least you’ve come to your senses.” Callum states. “Follow us and we will return to safety.” Callum narrows his eyes at Ronald, “even if he is a Knox.”

Ronald holds up his hands, feeling like he’s about to be hit again. “I swear, I had no idea about my family or their past. I just found out Rebecca’s my real mum.”

“And it would be wise, father, if you didn’t threaten him in my presence either.” says William, looking just as ready to defend Ronald as Ronald was to defend him.

Callum drops his arms, yet still glares at Ronald. “Then let us go. The more time we waste here, the chances of us making it to a hotspot before it closes are lowered.”

“Hotspot?” Ronald asks.

“They are the only places that can take you between the two realities.” Kimiko answers. “And they’re not open long.”

“Once the clock strikes eight, we only have a minute,” Callum adds, “to return to the real world.”

Ronald swallows, almost reactively reaching for William’s hand when he recalls he’d be doing so in front of William’s parents. It’s temporary, he reminds himself. All of it. “Then, yeah…yeah, we should go.” but before they do, Ronald grabs the painkillers and offers the bottle to William. “You should probably take one too. Can’t imagine your back feels all too good carryin’ me like that.”

But to his surprise, William gently pushes his hand away. “I’m fine for the moment.”

Ronald blinks. “You sure? Not even one as a precautionary?”

“I’m fine, Knox.”

Kimiko then takes the bottle from Ronald’s hand and puts it into her pocket. “We shouldn’t waste time.”

“Agreed.”

Ronald blinks and for the contempt that Callum has for him, for his family at least, he shares the same confusion he does. Surely, besides him, his mother would worry about his wellbeing. Neither mentions the bandage around his hand either which also concerns him. Either his parents are pretending to care, or there’s something else going on here.

********************

The ringing in his head gets quieter and quieter the more conscious he becomes. Gradually, William musters the strength to sit up, wincing as he presses a hand to the back of his throbbing skull. The room around him blurs before sharpening into focus, revealing it to be a bedroom—no. It’s more like a hospital wing with rows of beds lining the wall opposite of him, a mirrored set to his left. Stark, uniform, impersonal. “Sir!”

He barely has time to register the voice before Ronald’s suddenly hovering over him with wide, worried eyes. “Knox…?” William asks, startled.

“Sir.” Ronald breathes, relief rushing out of him in one, long, exhale. Without warning, he wraps his arms around William’s shoulders, pulling him into a tight embrace. “I was so worried you weren’t gonna wake up.”

William slowly pats Ronald on the back, indulging for just for a moment before easing the younger reaper away. He studies Ronald’s face, searching for something— anything —that might explain the unease in his chest but nothing seems off about his companion. He tells himself it must be the disorientation still lingering from his unconscious state. “A part of me doesn’t want to be.” he admits, rubbing the tender spot at the back of his head. “It feels as if I’m the one nursing a hangover.”

Ronald chuckles softly. “No alcohol involved. Just that loud, bloody pipe organ.”

“Ah yes. That’s right.” William mutters, pinching the bridge of his nose to chase away the lingering buzz in his ears. “Do you have any idea where we are?”

“I’d say a hospital room.” Ronald replies, glancing about the room as he shifts to sit on the edge of the bed. “Honestly, I’m shocked we’re even awake. Thought those hulking henchmen of hers were gonna kill us for finding that secret room.”

“To be truthful, as am I.” William agrees. “Although…that organ. It was missing a few keys. I wonder what would happen if we found the missing three and put them back. Clearly, hitting the wrong key results in a punishment, but if we were to play the correct ones?”

Ronald hums thoughtfully. “Maybe, but that’s a lotta guessin’ for a place we probably can’t get back to that easily.”

“That’s very true.” William sighs, forcing himself to stand. He sways slightly, gripping the footboard of the bed for balance. “Hells, I could do with my painkillers.”

“Well, if this is a hospital wing, maybe there’s some lying around?” Ronald suggests, hopping to his feet.

“Perhaps. Knox, I’d hate to ask, but would you mind having a look? I’m still feeling rather weak.”

“No problem!” Ronald says brightly with a mock salute. William exhales slowly, slumping back onto the mattress, massaging his temples and trying to breathe through the fire in his back. He’s complained multiple times about being chained to a desk but after everything they’ve endured here, he’ll never grumble about office work again. “Think I found some!” Ronald calls, approaching with a small plastic bottle in hand.

William takes it, examining the label with a sceptical eye. They’re expired, unfortunately, meaning he doubts they’ll have the same impact as the ones he’s been prescribed but he’ll try anything at the moment. He shakes out two pills into his palm then swallows them dry. They leave a strange, bitter aftertaste on his tongue but he does his best to ignore it. “Thank you Ronald.”

“Yeah, for sure. Want to wait for them to kick in, or should we try sneaking out now?”

“I’d rather leave now. Who knows when we’ll get another chance.” Ronald helps him back to his feet and William leans heavily against him for a moment, every muscle in his body screaming in protest. He wants to rest but he knows better. Lingering might just get them killed.

As it turns out, it wouldn’t have mattered either way.

The moment they step out of the hospital wing, Rebecca stands waiting for them with her two guards towering at her side. Her smile is sickeningly sweet, her hands folded too saintly against her chest. “William. My dear Ronald,” she coos, “I’m so glad to see you’re both awake.”

“Yes, well, we are and we’ll be going now.” William says curtly, trying to push past her as he tugs Ronald along but of course, the moment they move, the guards step forward, blocking their path.

“I’m afraid that would be a terrible idea.” Rebecca says with concern, as if she genuinely cares about their wellbeing. “You’re free from his curse here, don’t you recall? Why would you wish to return to the outside when you’re safe here?”

“It doesn’t exactly feel safe.” Ronald replies, eyeing the hooded brutes cautiously. “Your friends here don’t really scream ‘safe’.”

“I apologise, but they’re here for our protection.” she explains as she approaches. William suspects she’ll focus on Ronald but instead, her attention is solely on him. “I can sense your pain.” she says, her fingers brushing lightly across William’s shoulders—it’s hardly there, almost ghost-like. “Your injury still bothers you even after all these years?”

William doesn’t react to her touch, not wanting to upset her just yet. “Excuse me? How did you know about that?”

She frowns, “Ronan was the one that gave it to you.” she sighs, shaking her head. “I knew he wouldn’t be able to control his emotions at such a young age and you were the only one that bothered him out of the rest of the children.”

William blinks. “I…my injury was from this Ronan?”

“It was.” she clicks her tongue. “My poor boy thought you meant more to me then he did, considering I held your father in such high regard. Had I not intervened, you would’ve been dead, or at the very least, paralysed.” her fingers trail down his spine, forcing him to tense at the unwanted touch, “but Haven’s medical team’s far better at treating specific injuries then any reaper outside our town.” she smiles far too innocently at him. “Agree to stay, and I will heal this wound for you completely.” she leans closer, her lips brushing the shell of his ear, “agree to stay, and I will heal your other ailment as well.”

Instantly William shoves her away, taking a defensive stance against her. “Touch me again and I will cut off your hands. If you believe I have even an inkling, a thought, about agreeing to your proposition, then you are sorely mistaken.” he hisses through gritted teeth, fire in his eyes, “I don’t make contracts with demons.”

Her smile twitches downward. “A demon? William, I’m not a demon.”

“No?” he replies coldly, the ache in his muscles and the pain in his back making him lose all patience and decorum. “Are you not the reason this place went to hell? Why it exists? Why you murder children just to appease some form of deity?”

Her lips flatten into a straight line. “You know very little to be making such accusations.”

“Then please, enlighten me.”

She snaps her fingers. Before either he or Ronald can react, her guards grab them both, dragging them forward where they’re carelessly deposited onto the front pew like rag dolls. “What’s with the manhandling?!” Ronald protests, grimacing in pain.

“Quiet.” Rebecca snaps, now standing behind the podium at the front of the room.

Ronald immediately grabs William’s hand, William’s fingers tighten around his instinctively. He watches with quiet dread as the remaining pews fill with members of the mob from earlier, all seated with eerie calmness. “Be ready to run.” he whispers to Ronald, pointing his eyes forward again.

“I am.” Ronald assures.

Rebecca spreads her arms, beginning to conduct her sermon. “My fellow companions, today, we welcome two new guests into our midst. One even happens to be my long lost son who was stolen from my very arms.” her eyes fixate on William then, “and one who believes we are demons. That we feast on mortal souls, that we are creatures without morals! But we know, that’s not true. We are above that. The Star we serve provides us with everything we desire, the protection we need, in exchange for one annual sacrifice. A small price to pay for the wealth, health and prosperity of our beautiful town.”

“A small price?” William surges to his feet. “A small price in the form of a child’s soul? Do you hear yourself?”

“You wanted answers and I am providing them.”

“Why did you make this deal? What could possibly make you believe this was a good idea?”

Rebecca closes her eyes, gripping tightly to the podium. When she opens her eyes again, a single tear runs down her cheek from her eyeless socket as she lifts her head toward the ceiling. “Losing a child will bring heartbreak to many mothers. Myself included.” her voice grows softer, her attention returning to William. “I lost my first child when the Board refused to protect him. To protect us. A demon crossed into our territory and they did nothing as it rampaged. Nothing!” she swallows her anger, breathing deeply for a moment, “thus, I founded a town to prevent something like that from happening again. A place where families could be safe.”

“Bollocks.” William spits. “What ‘safe place’ demands the life of a child? I am sorry for your loss, I truly am, but this wasn’t the answer.”

“I didn’t force anyone to come. Everyone here willingly signed a contract. Your parents willingly signed a contract.”

William grits his teeth. “That may be so, but clearly, they came to their senses and realised this is no place for families. Not only that, what about the children themselves? They didn’t sign away their lives. They were no doubt taken without their regard or worse, raised to be told they wouldn’t live to see their eleventh birthday. Sheep to a bloody slaughter. They didn’t sign anything. They didn’t choose this!”

She stares at him blankly and William, naively, thinks he may have gotten through to her by some miracle, but instead, her voice is as cold as it is sorrowful as she finally says, “you can’t have children of your own.” William’s blood runs cold as he openly stares at her. No one knew that about him, not even his parents. The only person that did, was a woman he hadn’t spoken to in decades. “That’s an ailment we can heal here as well, William. You desire a child from your own blood and here, I can provide that for you.”

William swallows, feeling his hands start to shake. “ How…?” is all he can manage to ask.

“I knew the moment I met you. I know any ailment of those that I meet. It’s my gift given to me by our Star.” she explains, stepping down from the podium to approach him. “Wouldn’t you want that ailment cured?”

Ronald’s instantly by William’s side, smacking away her hand as she reaches for William’s chest, “don’t touch him.” the younger reaper growls.

Rebecca ignores him, continuing to solely focus on William. “Here, you would be cured. Nor would you suffer from any injury. All you would be required to do is provide one fresh sacrifice and that would free us from his curse. It would only be right that the son of the family that I trusted so dearly, were to give us that sacrifice.”

“Hell no!” Ronald snaps, shoving her further away. “You’re not gonna use him like that.”

William is left speechless once again, hardly believing the proposition he’s being offered. “Ronald’s right.” he tells her with a snarl. “I would adore the chance to have a child but like hell will I ever consider producing one just for you to take them away from me.”

“Now William, I’d suggest not being too hasty. You are passing up the chance for one of your greatest desires.” Rebecca tells him in an almost disappointed tone.

“I already made up my mind the moment you even offered. I would rather die than ever, ever, consider a contract with you.”

Her expression falls. “That can be arranged.” A massive hand clamps around William’s throat and lifts him effortlessly into the air before slamming him into the ground. The impact knocks the breath from his lungs. His vision spins. He barely registers Ronald being seized next, a blade pressed against his neck as he struggles. “You have one more chance, William,” Rebecca says. “What will it be?” William closes and opens his eyes a few times, trying to see straight but when he does, all he sees is Ronald shaking his head. It hurts. It hurts but even if he agreed, he doubted that would change Ronald’s fate. “Well? Answer.”

William fights down the urge to cuss the woman out. He’s no immortal Grim Reaper in this hellish place. No. Here, he’s as weak as a human and he’s at her mercy. “I…” he can barely say it, the words caught in his throat. All he can do is stare at Ronald, stare at the red that’s beading from the cut the blade is slowly making. He shuts his eyes in order to avoid watching the punishment when he finally forces out the word, strained and fragmented, “n-no.”

The sound that follows is unforgettable—the slice of a blade through flesh, the dull thud of a body hitting the floor. Something warm touches William’s hand. Wet. Sticky. He doesn’t dare open his eyes. “Throw him to the wolves,” Rebecca says. “Let the curse consume him. He will starve before we offer him shelter again.” Rough hands grab the back of William’s collar. He’s dragged out the doors of the town hall and hurled into the street. He hits the ground hard, skidding across the asphalt. Pain sears through his limbs—scrapes, bruises, blood pounding in his ears. When he forces his eyes open, all he sees is red staining his hand.

Ronald.

He curls his fingers into fists and slams them against the asphalt, his cry caught in his throat, tears welling in his eyes. The first time he’d witnessed Ronald’s death, he’d gotten him back—relieved that the Ronald that perished was nothing but a fake, but this? This is real. He knows it. It’s too cruel, too visceral. He can hear the sound of the blade, the gurgle as blood wells up in Ronald’s throat, the thump of Ronald’s body hitting the ground.

He squeezes his eyes shut again. Ronald told him to do it. That thought’s supposed to ease the pain, but it only makes it worse. The ache in his chest burns deeper than anything physical. “Hey.”

He startles at the small voice, pushing himself onto his hands. Oliver crouches nearby, watching with concern. “Oliver…?”

“You…hurt?”

William wincingly manages to sit upright. “Yes.”

Oliver scans him before standing and beckoning him to follow. “Come.”

William watches the child already starting to walk away. Even if this is a trap, he’s beyond caring at this point, so he forces himself up onto his feet and limps after the boy, one arm clutched to his side. “Where are we going?”

“Help.” is all Oliver offers.

Well, he’s right because eventually, Oliver leads him back to the hospital. He stops to admire the building, not feeling that same, awful, presence he had the first time he came to this place. He breathes out, following Oliver inside and to the very same room where the heart monitor gave him that code. On the bloodstained bed, is an array of medical supplies and Oliver looks at him expectantly as he sits on the edge of the bed. “Are these for me?” he asks, not wanting to presume but Oliver nods and William tries to offer a smile. “Thank you, Oliver.”

“Will you be okay?”

William looks at him as he starts to roll up his sleeves, blinking a bit in surprise. “You don’t sound as cautious as you once did.”

“Because Ronan likes you.”

William frowns, unsure if that’s good or not. “He does? Why? What’s changed?”

“What you said.”

“Ah…” guilt sticks in his throat, knowing it was his outburst that got Ronald slaughtered. He tries to take his mind off that thought for now, sitting next to the boy as he observes the medical supplies then his injuries. His arms are scraped all to hell, the sleeves of his dress shirt torn to near ribbons and he feels the bruise around his throat along with the fire in his back, but thankfully, none of his injuries will jeopardise his revenge at least. “Did Ronan not like me before?” William asks, using a cotton ball and disinfectant to clean the scrapes, wincing each time he does.

“No. He didn’t like anyone that wasn’t family.”

“And that’s why he was kind to Ronald?”

“Yeah. He wanted to use brother to escape.”

William eyes the boy as he wraps the gauze around his arms, before removing the makeshift bandage from his hand. “Escape?”

“Uh-huh.”

Seeming to realise he wasn’t going to get more answers about that, he chooses a different topic as he wraps his hand in proper bandages. “Do you know how this town came to be the way it is?” Oliver nods. “Could you tell me? Please?”

Oliver glances around nervously, his small shoulders tense. His eyes dart to the corners of the room, like he expects someone—or something—to be watching. William wouldn’t be surprised if they were. “If…if you promise to help.” Oliver replies quietly.

William takes a deep breath once he’s wrapped up his hand. It’s not the best job but it’s as good as he could do with one hand. Yet, as he looks at the fabric that was once used as a bandage, he can’t bring himself to throw it away. “I promise.” William replies, storing the scrap of fabric in his pocket.

Oliver tentatively holds out his pinky. “Pinky promise?”

The gesture, so innocent and earnest in such a grim setting, tugs something in William’s chest. He wraps his pinky around Oliver’s gently. “You know, where I used to live,” he says softly, “this is called yubikiri.” he tells the boy who listens attentively, “If someone broke the promise, they’d have to cut off their pinky finger.”

Oliver blinks, staring at their linked fingers. “Then…then that means you really won’t break it.”

“I won’t.” he assures.

Seemingly satisfied, Oliver nods and releases his hand. “Okay…I trust you.” He shifts a little on the bed, fingers fidgeting nervously in his lap. There’s an uncertain and fragile silence before he begins to speak. “Ronan was born first and then Ronald and then me. Mummy said Ronald was supposed to be the one that was gonna be taken first, but then, when Auntie Rose took him, mummy told me that I was gonna go too. I didn’t get it because only one from a family is supposed to leave but mummy said I was special."

“Special how?”

“Dunno.” Oliver shrugs. “Mummy just said that because Ronald was gone, I was the special one now. Then Auntie Rose came back and gave me this funny-tasting drink and I fell asleep. So, Ronan was the new special one instead of me.” Ah. So ‘special’ clearly just means sacrifice. “I dunno what really happened but I know Ronan got really, really angry. He wanted to make everyone hurt and that’s what he did.” William nods, putting the pieces together. That does indeed explain why this place feels so desolate. “When you and Ronald came here,” Oliver continues, “Ronan wanted to use brother Ronald to really leave this place, but…”

William lowers his eyes to his lap. “And now he’s…dead.”

Oliver nods with a quiet, “uh-huh.”

William’s vision blurs with tears before he tries to shut them out, forcing away the grief that claws at his chest. No. Not now. He’ll mourn when Rebecca and every other being in this place is held accountable for what they’ve done. When Oliver and his siblings get their revenge. “If you have a way to reach your brother, tell him that I will help him. That I’ll help him destroy this place and everything it stands for.”

Oliver looks up at him with wide eyes. “I wanna stay with you. I wanna…I wanna help.”

William reaches out and runs his fingers through the boy’s orange-yellow hair, a shade that’s truly familiar now that he really sees it. The same hue of the young reaper he’d fallen in love with, the same hue of the young reaper he was going to enjoy seeking revenge for. “You will.” he promises, “telling me what you did has already done so. It helps me understand this place a little better.”

“Then what next?” Oliver asks, eyes hopeful.

“Well,” William says, sitting upright with a newfound determination. “There’s a pipe organ that’s missing a few keys and I want to find them. I have a feeling, completing that instrument, is going to be very detrimental to the end we will bring upon this place.”

********************

“I can’t believe we’re going all the way out here and Allie doesn’t know where you are!” Grell says, clearly scandalised by what Eric has told her.

“If I did, I know the lad would have a few things to say and with how I’m feelin’ right now, I wouldn’t be able to listen. The sooner I see that prick, the sooner I’ll feel better when I knock his teeth out.” Eric replies, fingers clenching and unclenching on his lap, his built-up aggressions having no place to go.

“I still can’t believe that about Will’s parents.”

“Lass had no reason to lie.”

“Still. I can’t even imagine how you must be feeling darling.”

Eric cracks his neck. “Can’t even put it into words. Spears is lucky he’s missin’ because I’m pissed enough that I don’t care if it wasn’t his fault, I’d hit him too.”

Grell glances at Eric as she drives through the rain towards Haven, following the directions Eric gave her, “some of it still doesn't add up to me. If the Mr. and Mrs. lived in Haven for however long, how are they so revered by the Board? How are they able to have such reputations?”

“Asked the same thing and got fuck-all for answers.” Eric’s phone vibrates in his pocket and to Grell’s further surprise, he takes it out just to silence the device all together. “Sorry hen, but I don’t need to take me anger out on you.” he whispers as if apologising to Alan’s face.

“You’ll have him in such a tizzy Eric.” Grell says, “and as much as Allie and I are at odds with each other, I hope this stress about wondering where you are doesn’t affect him too much.”

It’s like in his rage, Eric has completely forgotten why Alan’s been on medical leave for as long as he has. “Shit.” he taps open their conversation and sure enough, there’s a constant string of texts from his very worried husband. ‘Sorry hen. I’m safe. With Red. Be back soon. Love u.’ and he leaves it at that, hoping that’ll calm some of Alan’s nerves. “There.”

“You’re going to be a dead man.”

“I know.”

The conversation is left at that and not long after, Grell parks her car at the edge of Haven, already not liking the look of the place. Eric doesn’t give it a second thought as he gets out of the car and summons his scythe, clearly on a mission. “Callum you bawbag! Where are you?!” Grell spares a glance at Eric, not having seen Eric this mad in a very long time. The last time she recalls his ire being this extreme is when he first learned of Alan’s illness. It was an anger that quickly devolved into pleading and begging. It was a state Grell never wanted to see Eric in again.

She follows Eric through the empty streets, momentarily upset by how the rain will affect her hair, when out of the corner of her eyes, she swears she sees someone watching them from the hotel. Sure enough, when she looks, she just barely catches someone turning from the window. “Eric!” she gasps, “I think I saw Will!”

“What?! Where?!”

“There!” she points toward the third floor of the hotel.

While Eric doesn’t see anything, he doesn’t doubt Grell did. “Shit.”

She’s the one to lead the charge into the hotel, the both of them navigating the debris that seems to nearly purposefully prevent them from getting to the room, but eventually, they do and Grell throws open the door.

There’s no one inside.

Eric scans the space, his eyes falling on a discarded turtleneck lazily laid across the couch, an obvious bloodstain on the chest. “Shit.” he repeats.

Grell frowns, observing the room for herself, not wanting to know if that sweater belongs to William or not because the idea that her darling suffering from any type of wound in this place unsettles her worse than knowing he’s here at all. Instead, her eyes settle on the nightstand and on it, she sees a leather watch and a bottle of pills. “This is Will’s.” she announces, picking up the watch. “I remember commenting on it once, about how he should get a new one since this one was so old and worn out but he kept telling me if it worked, why would he bother wasting money to replace it.”

Eric looks over his shoulder then picks up the bottle of pills. “What about these? Looks like…pain meds.”

Grell frowns, clutching the watch to her chest. “Those could be his as well. I’ve seen him with a pill bottle before, I just never asked what it was for.”

Eric lifts an eyebrow. “Really? That’s where ye draw the line on privacy?”

“How rude! I’m not that nosy! Especially if it’s something as personal as illness or… whatever he needs them for.”

Eric grunts and walks to the window himself, peering out of it. Obviously, William’s not here and he wonders if this is like when he swore he heard William calling out for Ronald. Behind the veil. “Where the hell are they, Red? And why the hell would Will leave this stuff behind? Where the fuck is Callum and Kimiko?”

Grell doesn’t answer. She stares down at the watch in her hands, rubbing her thumb over the scratched face of it. With the bloodstain turtleneck on the couch, she knows the answer.

They both do.

And neither of them like it.

Chapter Text

Alan watches the rain. It’s storming outside, with a wind that whips up and raindrops that pierce the ground rather than gently soak it. He holds his phone tightly in his hands, his worry for his partner at an all-time high. Not only did it take ages for him to even get a reply from Eric, but all Eric tells him is ‘with Red’. Grell. It isn’t that he doesn’t trust Eric; he’s been with the older reaper for too many years to worry about his husband cheating, but Eric’s clearly unstable at the moment, rightfully so, and a part of him worries that being with Grell will lead to something intimate. She’s a fiery, passionate woman, as she claims to be, and he knows she doesn’t like him (the feeling’s mutual), so now would be the perfect opportunity to swoop in and make a pass at Eric.

“He will return.”

Alan blinks, momentarily forgetting they’re hosting someone else. She sits on the couch, her hands folded elegantly in her lap. Her attention’s on nothing in particular as she stares straight ahead, and Alan still finds it hard to wrap his head around that this is the woman who raised Ronald.

“I’m not worried about him coming home, I’m…” He doesn’t want to voice his concerns, especially to a stranger. “I’m not worried about that.”

She hums. “The way you’re clutching your mobile tells me otherwise.”

Alan blinks, looking down at his phone he’s clutching like a lifeline. It’s still open to their conversation, and just knowing it took as long as it did to get a hold of his husband when he usually answers in mere minutes, or even seconds, sends his mind racing. “Well, I promise, it’s none of your concern.”

“I know,” she finally turns to look at him, “but I am a willing ear for your troubles.”

Alan flinches when thunder booms overhead, his heart rate picking up just a bit more. He clutches even harder to his phone, a part of him worried something’s happened to Eric beyond being with Grell, and he can’t decide if that would be better or worse. “I…” He forcefully turns his back to the window, taking a deep breath. Talking to someone would probably be best rather than having all these worries piling on top of each other, especially with a condition like his. “He’s with someone. A friend of his, and she’s one of the flirtatious types. She’s also made it clear that she’s found Eric attractive for some time, and I worry she might—”

“Steal him?”

Alan twists his phone in his hands. “No, well, not necessarily. Eric’s not in the right headspace at the moment with the anger inside him, and I worry that she might take advantage of that, and he might think using her would be a good way to expel that anger.”

“I see,” Rose says, unfolding her hands and offering one to Alan. “Have you had this concern about your husband before?”

Alan glances at her hand before hesitantly taking it, and she pulls him to sit next to her. “No,” he answers honestly. “For how Eric looks and his reputation, he’s one of the most loyal men I’ve ever met.”

“Then I believe your worries are wasted. If he’s as dedicated to you as he has proven he is, then I wouldn’t be concerned about an infidelity.” She upturns Alan’s hand and traces his palm with her index finger, “especially if he has stuck by your side through your own illness.”

Alan blinks. “How…do you know?”

“I see it in your eyes. On your skin. The thorns have marked you so fully, and yet, you still are here, standing on your own two feet. You’ve quite the strength about you, and I’m rather impressed. From what I’ve heard of the Thorns of Death, it’s a silent killer, and yet, you haven’t let them beat you.”

Alan stares at her hand, at her finger that traces the lines of his palm. “Are you some sort of doctor?”

“At one point, I was. Now, I am merely part of a cursed bloodline.”

“Cursed bloodline,” Alan mutters.

Rose folds his fingers into his palm and covers his hand with hers. “You will live for quite a long while yet, Alan, and your husband will return to be with you, his fidelity intact.”

Alan looks from his hand to his phone, then back to her. “Are you a psychic? Or are you telling me what I want to hear?”

“That is for you to decide.”

Alan takes a deep breath, focusing back on the pounding rain outside. Even if she’s completely wrong, even if she’s just saying what he wants to hear, he’s going to believe her. “Then, to take my mind off this, can I ask you more about Ronald’s childhood? Why he’s never bothered to mention anything about his family?”

Rose folds her hands back into her lap, staring straight ahead once again. “Good.”

Alan slowly looks back at her, confusion clear on his face. “Good?”

“Yes.”

Alan’s not quite sure what to make of that. “Is that…it?”

“All I will tell you.”

Alan turns his eyes back to his phone, his lips dry. Well, what other questions could he ask because what were the odds he’d even get an answer? “What about Ronald’s father? You’ve told us about his mother, but is there anything you can tell me about his father?”

Rose doesn’t regard him for a moment, Alan hoping for a proper answer, but all she ends up replying is, “he served his purpose.”

Alan clicks his tongue. “You know, a little more information would be nice. I mean, you’re here because you claim you care about Ronald, but you refuse to answer any of my other questions.”

“The less you know, the better. All I told you and your partner was the necessary information for what happened to Ronald and that Spears boy.”

“His name is William.”

“His name will be irrelevant if he perishes in that place.”

Alan scoffs. “William’s a force to be reckoned with, especially when he’s threatened. He won’t die. Not there.”

Rose’s face continues to be void of any emotion, not even allowing Alan a hint of knowing what she’s really thinking. “Haven has ways of destroying even the most hardened of reapers.” Her voice is clipped. “There’s a reason they cannot simply transport themselves home.”

“I’m sure you’re aware that portalling in the realm is forbidden regardless,” Alan counters, crossing his arms.

She finally looks at him, and he finally sees some emotion on her face, though it’s more of a pitying look directed at him, as if he doesn’t truly understand what they’re talking about. “They’re not in the realm, Alan. Not any longer.”

He stiffens. “Grell…mentioned that Haven was on the cusp of our realm and the human realm. You don’t mean to tell me it’s in its own realm…do you?”

“I mean exactly that. The Haven they’ve entered isn’t a place so easily ventured unless the town itself calls you in. In that Haven, they’re no longer reapers. Their bodies will be treated like mortal shells.”

Alan looks down at his phone again, then to William’s that still sits untouched on the coffee table. He understands now why many of William’s, no doubt desperate, calls for help only showed up on his phone. He blinks, and his heart sinks. That call Eric received where the only sound was an ear-splitting ringing, that was probably William as well. Maybe even Ronald. “How…” He doesn’t want to ask, but he feels like he needs an answer to prepare himself for the worst while hoping for the best. “What do you think the chances are that Ronald and William will be okay?”

She reaches over again and pats his hand. “I will be honest. They’re slim, but there’s always a chance.” Slim. He sucks in a deep breath, not liking those odds at all, but there’s nothing he can do except sit and wait. There’s nothing anyone can do at the moment, especially with Callum and Kimiko already on their own rescue mission. Hopefully, they’re able to find something wherever they are, be it William and Ronald, or at the least, something that would tell them all of their fate.

His eyes find William’s phone again, and he reaches to pick it up while setting his own down. He’d gone through it once Eric left as a way to hopefully distract himself—William’s device is meticulously organised, cleared of anything unnecessary. Yet, there’s one photo among the ones of paperwork for proof of completion. It’s another picture taken during their Ireland holiday; Alan insisted they commemorate the moment, and William begrudgingly agreed. He’s the one holding the phone upwards to capture both himself and Alan in the frame, along with the lush garden behind them.

If Alan were honest, he’d admit he misses those days—misses William, but the heartache that followed stains those memories, tainting the sweetness with regret. Maybe he should’ve given William another chance. Maybe he shouldn’t have announced he was leaving for another man.

He closes his eyes to avoid looking at the device, knowing that if he ever sees William again, they need to talk.

The sound of an approaching vehicle snaps him to immediate focus. He’s instantly on his feet, practically throwing William’s phone to the coffee table and nearly plastering himself to the window. It’s red. The car that pulls up is red. He doesn’t need more information than that before he’s throwing open the front door.

Eric barely steps out from the passenger’s side before Alan throws himself into his arms, hugging him as tight as he physically can. It’s the reaction Eric expects, and the gesture he reciprocates, holding Alan just as tightly to him. Alan inhales deeply, and some of his nerves are calmed by the fact Eric doesn’t smell like sweat or Grell’s flowery perfume. There’s only a hint of it, most likely from being in her car.

“I’m sorry, hen,” Eric whispers, squeezing him. “I know ye were worried.”

That’s what causes Alan’s fuse to be lit again. He throws himself away from Eric, almost, almost, on the verge of slapping him. “Are you sorry? Do you really know how worried I was?!” Alan’s fingers dig into Eric’s shirt, the fabric straining in his grip. “My calls went straight to voicemail, Slingby! And my texts?! Do you realise how terrified I was when you refused to text me back, and then all you eventually do is that you’re with her?!”

“I told you darling, you’re a dead man,” Grell comments, holding her jacket over her head, doing her best to keep her hair dry.

Eric shoots her a glare before focusing back on Alan, seeing how red his partner’s face is beyond the rapidly falling raindrops. “Right, maybe I didn’t know how worried ye were, but I know I shouldn’t have avoided ye like that.”

“Bloody right!” He yanks Eric closer to him with the strength of a scorned lover. “Now you better tell me where the hell you went!”

Eric sighs, knowing his answer isn’t going to go over well even if Alan were calmer. “Haven.”

It takes about two seconds for his answer to sink in before Alan’s nearly ready to throttle him. “Haven?! You refused to answer me because you went to Haven?! What if you went missing as well? What if you just vanished, and I had no bleeding idea where you went?!” He aggressively points at Grell, thrusting his arm out as if he aims to jab her with his index finger. “With what you told me, I’d have assumed you ran away with her!”

“Alan—”

“No! And if you tell me to calm down, I will slap you.” He’s gripping tightly to Eric’s shirt again. “I was so scared, Eric. Never, never, do that to me again, do you hear me? And if you do, and if the only thing you text to me is ‘with Red’ again, I’m divorcing you.”

Eric immediately pulls Alan into another hug, encasing him fully with his arms. He rests his cheek to the top of Alan’s head and gently sways with him because that’s one of his favourite things about his husband—it’s his fire. That flame that always tells Eric how passionate he is about them. “I promise,” he replies with a whisper. “I promise it’ll never happen again.”

Alan swallows, sinking into Eric’s embrace, just glad to have his partner back and to be in his arms again. “Good,” he replies, voice cracking just slightly.

Grell can only smile slightly to herself. She’s slightly offended that Alan assumed she’d go after someone already involved (well, she would, just never Eric), but seeing the two of them act like this, she lets any snide remark go. As much as she wished it could’ve been her, Eric and Alan are the definition of soulmates. Anyone could see it.

As another minute passes, she can only stand in the pouring rain for so long before she finally decides to say something. “Darlings, can we step inside please? My hair won’t survive getting wet, and I really don’t want to test this waterproof mascara unless I really have to.”

Alan takes a deep breath, slowly exhaling as he pushes away from Eric. “She has a point,” he agrees. “It’s not good for us to be out here in this weather.”

Eric runs his fingers through his bangs, throwing them back and out of his eyes. “Aye. The rain in Haven wasn’t nearly this bad.”

Grell leads the way back into the house, letting out a pleased sigh as she lowers her coat, hanging it up on the coat rack by the door. “Ooo nice and toasty,” she says, rubbing her arms as she sits on the couch.

Alan closes the door after himself once he’s followed Eric inside, and he’s about to introduce Rose to Grell, but the woman’s gone. He blinks, staring at the empty spot where she used to be until the world suddenly goes dark as a towel is thrown over his head. “Think ye could use one too,” Eric comments, drying his hair with one of his own.

Alan quickly rubs himself dry, trying to figure out where their unexpected guest went. “You wouldn’t have happened to have seen Rose when you grabbed these, did you?” he asks Eric.

“Aye. Lass is in the spare room. Said she’d give us time to talk alone,” Eric replies, taking Alan’s towel. “And we do have some things to tell ye, Al.”

“I’ll start,” says Grell, reaching into her pocket and taking out William’s watch. “We found this in a hotel room.”

Alan sits next to her, carefully taking the watch into his hand. Right away, he knows who it belonged to. “You found it…in a hotel room?” he tries to clarify, wondering why William’s without it to begin with.

“We did, and it is Will’s, right?”

“It is,” Alan swallows. “And it’s…broken? The hands aren’t moving.”

“Probably why the lad left it behind,” Eric comments once he’s returned from throwing the towels into the laundry. “What’s worse, is that Red and I also found a jumper with—”

“Blood on the chest,” Grell finishes. “And we’ve no idea who that would even belong to, but the fact it was there at all is worrying. All we found were things that belonged to Will, and nothing that belonged to Ronnie, which has me even more worried that they’re not even together in that place.”

“All? How can you be so sure the jumper was William’s?” Alan asks, looking between the two.

“It wasn’t the jumper, but, we found these,” Eric explains, reaching into his pocket to produce the medication bottle and offering it to Alan. “Grell thinks these belong to Spears.”

“He did take painkillers occasionally, yes,” Alan says, taking the bottle and scanning the label. “Wow,” he whispers in awe, “I didn’t realise how strong these were. They need to be prescribed by a specialist. Even for a reaper, these are extremely rare.”

Eric crosses his arms. “Do you know what he’d need ‘em for?”

Alan looks at Eric, then at Grell, then back to the bottle before looking again at Eric. Technically, he shouldn’t tell them, as William told him about his injury under the absolute belief Alan wouldn’t ever tell anyone else, but this is a unique occurrence, and he doesn’t have to tell them the whole truth. “He has an injury on his back. Scythe-related that hurts occasionally, but, to be prescribed something like this? I…didn’t realise just how bad it was.”

“Scythe?!” Grell gasps. “When was he ever struck with a scythe?!”

“When he was younger and before coming to London,” Alan answers with a finality that tells the two that’s all the information Alan’s willing to divulge. “Still, there’s an ingredient in here that doesn’t make sense to me.”

“What?” Eric asks, sitting on the opposite side of Alan, leaning on his thighs. “Like, somethin’ banned?”

“No. It’s ironwort. It’s said to be an anti-inflammatory, but it’s also used to treat demon poisoning on the rare occasion one of us is scratched or bitten by a poisonous demon, but those variants of demons are also rare.”

Eric scratches the side of his neck. “Why the hell would Spears need help with that if his injury was from a scythe?”

“And why would it need to be a constant dose?” Grell adds.

“I don’t know,” Alan nibbles his lower lip, turning the bottle over to read the front of the label again. “It’s not labelled as anything unique or special.”

“I suppose that’s the point, so no one would know there’s anything different about the pills,” suggests Grell. “I certainly wouldn’t have guessed a demon’s poison was involved.”

Eric rubs his hands together, his eyes laser-focused on the bottle. “Do ye think…do you think those pills could help…you, Al?”

Alan’s face falls as he looks at Eric, the light in his eyes dim as he frowns at his husband. “Eric.”

“What? They can help demon poisoning, aye? What’re the odds they can help the thorns?”

Alan hears the plea in Eric’s voice and it hurts him even more to turn the idea down. “If they could’ve, I’m sure someone would’ve suggested it by now. The pills themselves are rare, not ironwort itself. If it could help with the thorns, I’m sure they would’ve tried it.” Alan reaches over and takes Eric’s hand, Eric immediately gripping tightly to it like it’s his only tether to the world. “I know, Eric, but, there’s nothing anyone can do.”

Eric closes his eyes, bringing their hands up to his lips and just rests them against the back of Alan’s hand. “ Fine .”

********************

He doesn’t feel one hundred percent yet, but his wounds are patched up the best they can be with the meagre supplies laid out for him. The only wound he’s unable to tend is the one in his chest, the wound of losing Ronald in such a way. Every time he closes his eyes, he hears Ronald’s death, and even a glance at his hands tricks his mind into seeing Ronald’s blood still staining his skin.

“You gonna be okay?” Oliver asks as William removes his blazer, realising there’s no longer a point to wearing the tattered thing.

“I will be,” he assures the boy, looking at his arms. The sleeves of his dress shirt are in just as bad a shape as his blazer, so with the surgical scissors Oliver managed to find, he cuts off most of the sleeves from his dress shirt. He doesn’t like how the shirt feels now, that his arms are too bare and bandaged for his liking, but the only other option for clothes is a bloody turtleneck back at the hotel. “Despite the slow healing we’re subjected to here, our bodies will mend the surface wounds quickly.” That’s a lie, of course, but he wants to spare the child further worry. Oliver chose to help him, and William refuses to let the child think he’ll keel over from his injuries. “Right, now Oliver. I need to ask you something.”

“What?” the boy asks, blinking up at him.

“Do you know where Ronan is? Does his spirit wander or has he become something more malevolent? Ronald and I only saw him once at the school.”

“I dunno where he is. He goes all over,” Oliver replies, fidgeting with the sleeves of his school blazer.

William exhales slowly, disappointed. He’d hoped to find Ronan himself, as the boy carried the curse. Perhaps William could reason with him—beg for passage home, and, if nothing else, to take Ronald’s body back for proper burial. He winces at his own thought.

Burial .

The idea that he’ll need to do just that when he’s able to find a way home makes a rock settle in his stomach. It was the last thing he’d ever expect to think of when it came to the younger reaper who still owns a vast majority of his heart. “First things first, I want to return to the hotel. There’s something important I need to retrieve.”

“Like what?”

“My pain medication,” William answers, his eyes glued to his hand. “I need them, and I’ll be no use to you—or anyone—if my back gives out again.”

“What about these?” Oliver suggests, offering him a half-empty bottle from the bed.

William takes it, inspecting the label. It’s the same brand Ronald gave him back in the town hall. He frowns. “I appreciate it, but they’re not the same. I’m afraid they’re not nearly as effective as the ones I need.”

“Oh, okay.”

A faint smile tugs at William’s lips as he ruffles Oliver’s hair. “Thank you though.” The way his heart melts just the tiniest amount when Oliver’s eyes light up at the gratitude is a strange feeling. He’s telling himself not to get attached, that Oliver is the ghost of a child, and even if William were inclined to offer Oliver the choice to stay or come home with him, it wouldn’t matter in the long run. Oliver’s bound to this place, and all William can do for him is set his spirit free. “Now, there’s no point in staying put. We best make haste if we’re to avoid any unwanted encounter.” William comments, pushing himself up from the bed. His back’s starting to sting, the wound on his back feeling more prominent now for whatever reason. While the pain’s always there, he often forgets about the injury itself, but now, he feels it, almost like he’s freshly received it.

“Wait. I wanna show you something first.”

William pauses, glancing at Oliver who goes to the end of the bed where the medical chart is. “You showed me that before, and there was nothing—”

“Look again,” he insists, holding the clipboard up to William.

William cautiously takes the clipboard, as if there’s something about to jump out at him. Instead, when he sees the medical chart is complete, unlike it was before, his blood runs cold:

Patient Name: William Takaeda Spears

Date of Birth: ████████

Age: 5 years

Case Level: High Alert

Status: Critical

Attending Physician: Dr. Rose Knox

Guardian Contact: Callum Spears & Kimiko Spears

Incident Description: Patient was found unconscious in the school yard. A deep, jagged laceration was discovered along the spine. The wound was cauterised unnaturally and embedded with residual demonic toxin.

Vital Signs on Arrival:

• Heart Rate: 164 bpm

• Respiratory Rate: 35/min

• Temp: 39.3°C

• Consciousness: Semi-responsive

Prognosis:

Short-term: High risk of spinal degradation and permanent paralysis

Long-term: 40% chance of regaining full motor control with continuous treatment

Notes: I have reason to suspect ████████ was the cause of such an injury, and I’ll be bringing it up to Rebecca Knox as his reaction to other children given even the slightest more attention. Mr. and Mrs. Spears are requesting an immediate solution, and I’ve tested the first dose of the medication I’ve created. Patient seems to be accepting the medicine well, and if progress continues, will prescribe a permanent prescription.

— Dr. Knox

“What…is this?” comes William’s question, disbelief in his voice as he reads the chart over and over again. This is clearly describing his injury, but, it doesn’t make sense. It was from a scythe wound, not…a demon , let alone that it says he was only five when this injury occurred. Again, that couldn’t be right. He was much older when he lost that idiotic duel. He was living with his parents in Japan, not…Haven. “This…can’t be right.”

“It is,” Oliver says matter-of-factly. “Ronan said you’d remember this room. That’s why he made the bed like that.” William closes his eyes, in hopes that when he opens his eyes, the report will have changed, but of course, that doesn’t happen. Instead, when he opens his eyes, all he sees is that Rebecca was telling him the truth. Even if he didn’t want to believe it, even if he kept denying it, this medical report’s clear as day. He’s a part of Haven, just like Ronald is. Then, if Rebecca was right about that, she must’ve been right about who injured him; a fact that leaves him slightly bewildered. Demonic toxin. Ronan was Ronald’s sibling, the first-born as Rebecca said, so why was demonic toxin involved? “What’s wrong?”

William looks at Oliver, trying to form his thoughts into proper words, but he’s not sure where to start. “Oliver, Ronan is your brother, yes? Blood related?” Oliver nods. “Then, have you ever noticed something…off about your brother?”

“Like what?”

“Anything. Anything, shall we say, different compared to you or Ronald.”

William watches as Oliver’s face twists into one of thought. William’s gripping tightly to the medical chart, hoping Ronald isn’t, even by chance, associated with demons because that would make everything so much more complicated. “Um, mummy really liked him more,” Oliver answers. “She said Ronan was her blessed one.”

“Blessed one?”

“Yeah.”

Well, that doesn’t tell him anything. He clicks his tongue and rips the medical chart from the clipboard before folding it up and storing it in his trouser pocket. Whatever answers he wants, he isn’t going to get by just standing around. “I’m glad you showed me what you did,” he says to Oliver, patting his pocket where he stored the chart. “But now, we need to go.”

“You killed me.”

William freezes. He turns around, expecting to see that monster standing in the doorway, and while it isn’t, he sees the light beyond the door start to dim. Immediately, he puts his finger to his lips, signalling Oliver to be quiet before gesturing for them both to hide at the base of the door away from the windows.

“You’re the reason I’m dead.”

Oliver curls into himself as he presses against the door, as William presses his back as tightly against the door as possible, eyes shut as he pleads that the creature doesn’t know he’s here.

“You can’t ignore us!”

Instantly, William covers his ears as a knee-jerk reaction despite knowing that it does little to actually block out the voices.

“You’re a failure of a son!”

“You left me to die!”

“Why are you trying to leave when you deserve to be here?!”

“You’re the reason I’m dead!”

The voices hit him like waves—vicious, relentless. He grits his teeth, squeezing his eyes shut, his breath catching as he tries to drown them out. He feels that dark presence at his back, just beyond the door, ready to consume him completely. He can feel the dark tendrils wrapping around his legs, his arms, his neck—small, familiar hands cover his own, and just like that, the voices cease. The presence vanishes. William sits completely still for a moment before cautiously opening his eyes, his focus immediately on Oliver as the boy sits back on his knees. He exhales in pure relief, dropping the back of his head against the door. “Thank you…”

Oliver tilts his head, a form of worry on the boy’s face. “Are you gonna be okay?”

“Yes,” William replies, giving himself some time to gather his nerve again. “How are you able to do what you do?”

Oliver shrugs, looking down at his hands. “Dunno.”

“Do you even know what that creature is?”

“No.”

William gives a dry smirk, looking up at the ceiling. “Of course.” With a deep breath, he forces himself up to his feet, peering out into the dark hall, carefully examining the area before them to be sure they’re alone again. “Right, come along Oliver,” he commands, throwing open the door. He pulls Oliver with him, setting a brisk pace back to the hotel. Ronald may have encountered his monster there, but William’s yet to have such an experience with his own, and he hopes it stays that way.

Yet, as they walk, something feels…wrong. An unnatural chill brushes his skin. The air feels crowded—as though unseen souls pass them, wandering in the opposite direction. He tries to shake it off, focusing on only getting behind a locked door, but that chill isn’t easy to dismiss. It almost gives him the sense of abandonment? Of being forgotten? No. Of being left behind.

While he’d like to say there’s some relief when they enter the hotel room, the only place that’s proven to be absolutely safe, he’s sorely gutted to realise that his medication’s gone. The bottle of painkillers he knows he left on that nightstand, are missing. His heart stops for a moment as he scours the room, desperately hoping he’s misplaced them somehow, but no. Nothing. They’re gone. “What…?” he asks no one, pressing the heel of his hand to his forehead, fighting to remember if he’s taken them someplace or somehow left them in some innocuous drawer. What’s even stranger, is his watch is missing as well, vanished just like the bottle.

Oliver fidgets in the doorway. “Are they missing?”

“Yes.” William rubs his temple, frustration mounting. “Where could they have gone?”

“Maybe someone stole them?” Oliver hesitantly suggests.

“By whom? I’ve not seen anyone else here besides Ronald and those…c ultists .” He continues to think, pacing in circles in front of the window.

“Are…are you gonna die without them?”

William’s head snaps up when he hears the genuine worry in Oliver’s voice, and the boy looks like he’s on the cusp of tears. So William kneels down in front of Oliver and puts his hands on the boy’s shoulders, giving them a reassuring squeeze. “No. I won’t die without them.”

“T-Then why are they so important?”

“Well, because my back hurts sometimes, especially after exerting myself too much, and the painkillers are the only thing that makes it not hurt as bad.”

“S-So you’re gonna be okay?”

“I will be, yes.”

Oliver sniffles and wipes his eyes with his sleeve. “Okay.”

William squeezes his shoulders again, then stands, trying to think of the next course of action. The only other place he could think of is room four-o-seven. The Ronald he eventually came to learn was a fake, told him there was nothing in that room, which leaves him wondering, was there really nothing there, or was the doppelgänger trying to dissuade him from searching on his own? “There’s one other room I’d like to see with my own eyes. Room four-o-seven.”

“That’s where your mum and dad stayed.”

William just stares at Oliver. “What?”

“Mummy told me that was the room of the people she thought she could trust the most. Said they stayed there when you were in hospital.”

“You weren’t even alive back then, were you?”

“No, but mummy wanted to show me what loyal followers get.”

William feels a chill run down his spine. His parents and loyal followers in the same sentence didn’t sit right with him. Still, that gives him another reason to look through this room himself. The only problem with that is his hand. “Then I know where we must go next.” he sighs, frowning down at his hand, still unable to fully bend his fingers. “Climbing will be a hassle, however.”

“Climbing? Why?”

“The stairwell’s blocked, and Knox and I found a ladder to the fourth floor.”

“No, it’s not.”

William blinks. “What do you mean it’s not?”

“You can go up the stairs easy!”

He immediately goes to check, and Oliver’s right. The massive blockade of furniture’s gone, cleared away as if it’d never been there. When did this happen? Did Ronald clear it? “This does indeed make the way up far more convenient,” he mutters.

Taking Oliver’s hand, William leads the way up the stairs, vigilant just in case that monster returns. He also makes sure to avoid touching any other doorknobs, knowing the punishment that awaits if he does. When they reach the door to room four-o-seven, William taps the knob with the pad of his finger. When nothing happens, he turns the knob and pushes the door open. Unbeknownst to him, he sees the room exactly as Ronald had: perfectly preserved, untouched by time, as though it’s patiently awaiting its rightful occupant to finally arrive. “Fascinating,” he says in quiet awe.

“It’s really pretty,” Oliver says brightly, stepping in beside him. “I like it lots more than my room.”

William glances at him. “Your room?”

“Yeah. Mummy told me that special boys get the special room, and it was really uncomfortable.”

William softens, offering the boy a sympathetic look. “I’m deeply sorry for the life you lived, Oliver.”

“Lived?” Oliver echoes, tilting his head with wide, innocent eyes.

The genuine confusion in his voice takes William aback. Doesn’t the boy realise he’s dead? Does he even know what death, or sacrifice, meant? “Never mind,” William says, not wanting to upset the child, “for now, why don’t you help me find something of interest here?”

“I can do that!” Oliver chirps, eager to be helpful. He dives into the dresser, pulling open drawers and rummaging through forgotten trinkets and scraps while William watches with a furrowed brow. His chest tightens the longer he looks at Oliver; there’s too much sorrow wrapped around the boy’s short life. Forcing himself to focus, William starts searching as well.

He’s just about to give up since there seems to be nothing but dust and old, useless belongings, and he’d admit, he’s a little disappointed considering this is supposedly where his parents stayed while he was injured, but then, he looks under the bed. There’s something under it, and reaching under, he pulls out a briefcase. It’s certainly old and worn around the edges, but at least it’s something. “Oliver, you wouldn’t have happened to have seen this briefcase before, would you?”

Oliver plops down next to William, looking the briefcase over himself before shaking his head. “Nope.”

William hums, then holds his breath as he clicks open the latches and slowly opens the lid, fully expecting something to jump out at him. Instead, he finds three things inside: a knife, an old flip phone, and one of the three missing pipe organ pieces. He studies the objects carefully before deeming there’s no real threat here, and the first thing he picks up is the phone. He flicks it open, and the screen’s cracked, a few buttons missing, yet to his surprise, it still holds a faint charge. “Strange…” he murmurs, snapping it shut to preserve what little battery remains.

“That’s really old,” Oliver comments.

“It is, which leaves me curious as to why it’s still holding a charge. It doesn’t look like it should be working at all.” He stores the phone into his pocket, then picks up the kitchen knife. Crude but serviceable. The blade’s a tad dull and a bit rusted, but it would still serve well enough for protection if he desperately needed it. Well, if anything in this place could be hurt with a mere kitchen knife, of course. “Having a weapon will help to protect us—well, myself at least.” He looks at Oliver. “I’m not certain if you can be harmed at all.”

Oliver shakes his head. “No. Not right now.”

That gives William some relief, knowing he’d only really need to look out for himself at the moment, especially considering the shape he’s in. “Then protection for me it is.” He sets the knife down to pick up the last object inside: the pipe organ piece. “Well, I believe this is confirmation then. This is what we need to be looking for.”

“What is it?”

“A key for a grand pipe organ in the town hall. Why we need to put it back together, I haven’t the foggiest, but it gives us some goal to work toward.”

Oliver taps his chin. “Is that like a really big piano?”

“Somewhat, yes.”

“Oh! I know that thing!”

William strokes the piece into his pocket, giving Oliver his full attention. “Then, do you happen to know what it is, or does, rather?”

“I think so! I remember this piano thing being played during those special days! Dunno what it did, but mummy always told me it was because the Star liked the song!”

William raises an eyebrow. “Liked the song?” He cups his own chin, thinking. “Then there must be a crucial role this pipe organ plays during these rituals.” He frowns. “Would putting it back together really be a good idea then? Especially when hitting just one wrong note leads to a severe punishment?”

“I think it is,” Oliver says, nervously tapping his fingers together. “I think it’ll be worth it.”

William hums. “Perhaps. We’ll need to find the last two pieces first before we make any rash decisions.” He grabs the knife and stands up, feeling a little more prepared to face what else the town will throw at him. “So long as it leads to vengeance for Ronald’s death, I’m willing to do anything.”

********************

“What is this place?” Ronald asks as Callum and Kimiko lead him and William down a quiet suburban road. It feels all new to him, but seeing how both of them seem to know exactly where they’re going makes the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. He really doesn’t want to believe it; he wants to convince himself that this is all some big coincidence, but clearly, it isn’t.

His question isn’t answered verbally yet, as they eventually come to a stop in front of a home he knows he’s really never seen before, but to give it credit, it looks the least dilapidated compared to the other homes around it. “The Slingby’s once lived here,” Callum tells him. “This is where one of those said ‘hotspots’ is. Why? I cannot answer that, but it’s here.”

“Eric’s old home…” Now he feels like he shouldn’t be here at all. Knowing what he does, he feels like this place should be left as some sort of memorial. Entering it almost feels like a violation of Eric’s personal life. Still, it might be their only way out of this place. He takes one step through the door, but both he and Callum seem to realise their footsteps are the only ones that have. Glancing back, William’s the one that’s standing stock still, just staring at the home as Kimiko stands next to him, her concern evident. “Will?” Ronald asks.

“Perhaps…” William begins, sounding strangely hesitant, “it is best if we don’t leave quite yet.”

Ronald blinks. “What? Why?”

“Do we even know if we’re able to return afterwards?”

“How do you think your mother and I were able to find you?” Callum responds, voice gruff and clearly running out of patience. “Now come, William. Any and all discussions will be had once we’re free of this accursed place.” Callum’s eyes land on his wife. “Isn’t that right, darling?”

Clearly, he expects Kimiko to take his side, Ronald having zero doubts she would, but to both their surprise, she doesn’t. Instead, she puts her hand on William’s arm and says, “If you believe that’s what’s best, perhaps you shouldn’t return with us.”

“What?” Callum’s deadpan surprise is almost comical if Ronald wasn’t just as concerned. “Kimiko, we cannot leave our son behind.”

Kimiko looks at her husband, a strange, indescribable look in her eyes. “If our son chooses to stay, who are we to force him?”

“Kimiko—”

“Callum.”

William actually turns to his mother and nods his head as a thank you towards her. “I appreciate that you’re on my side.”

“She shouldn’t be. She was beside herself with worry when she learned of your disappearance, and now she’s allowing you to stay in a place you could very well be killed?”

“I’m allowed to change my mind.” Kimiko refutes.

“Yes, you are, and I’m not telling you that you cannot, but this isn’t something you should change your mind about.”

“You worry too much, father,” William tells him.

Ronald frowns and approaches William, gently pulling him off to the side so they could talk alone. “Why the change of heart, Will? We agreed we’d go.”

“It’s not in our best interest to leave.”

“Why? We agreed it was. Why don’t you want to now?”

“The souls you claimed to want to save. They may not have the luxury of time if we leave now.”

Ronald blinks. “When did you see somethin’ about time? Because as far as I’m aware, every clock’s stuck at eight, and we haven't seen any time limit for anythin'.”

“Are you so sure?”

“Are you?”

“Yes.”

Ronald’s at a loss for words now. He just stares at William, trying to search William’s face, his eyes, to see if there’s anything that will give away why he’s changed his mind, but no. There’s nothing. “Will…”

William says nothing for a long moment until his eyes lock on something over Ronald’s shoulder, and they quickly widen in shock. “Ronan,” he breathes, taking a step back.

Ronald immediately spins around, but he isn’t seeing what William is. “What? Where?”

“There.” He points down the road. “He turned down an alley.”

“You sure?” Ronald asks, but the answer comes quickly as William bolts down the street, rounding the corner without hesitation. “Will!” Ronald shouts after him.

“Where the hells is he going?!” Callum demands.

“He…he thought he saw one of those ghost kids,” Ronald explains, already backing up to follow.

“And he just runs off?!” Callum stares off into the direction William ran. “William!”

“Let him go,” Kimiko says, watching with far less concern than she should be showing. “He will return when he’s ready.”

Ronald doesn’t say anything regarding that, doesn’t even need to be told that her reaction is wrong. “I’ll go get him!” he announces before breaking off into a run. He follows William’s pathing exactly, whirling into the alley only to trip over something and fall practically on his face. He barely catches himself on his hands, groaning at the pain that vibrates up his arms. He doesn’t realise it at first, when he pushes himself to his knees to check his hands over, but when he moves to stand up, he’s hit with the sudden realisation that everything’s changed. The crumbling, cursed town’s gone, replaced by a vibrant, thriving neighbourhood, untouched by rot or decay. It’s like stepping back into a time when the town still had a future. “What the hell…?” Once he’s on his feet, he’s able to see what he tripped over, and to his surprise, it’s a journal, its cover cracked with age.

When he picks it up, he means to open it to read what’s inside, but the moment he barely even lifts the cover, the journal’s yanked from his hands. “No. Not now. You’ll summon her otherwise, and that will be a catastrophe for everyone.”

Ronald blinks, not expecting to meet the dark eyes of someone who looks like an older version of the boy he and William met in the school. “Don’t tell me you’re Ronan.”

“And if I told you I was?”

“I’d, uh, find it hard to believe,” Ronald admits, scanning Ronan from head to toe. “Weren’t you, like, a kid?”

Ronan smiles, stroking his thumb fondly over the cover of the journal. “This place allows me to enjoy any stage of my life.” He looks back at Ronald. “I assumed you’d have an easier time conversing with an adult.”

“Well, I guess you got that right. It’ll be easier to ask you questions, like where the hell is Will?”

“He was never here.”

“What do you mean he was never here?!” Ronald juts his arm out, pointing at the opening of the alley. “I followed him here!”

“You followed a version of him.”

Ronald slowly lowers his arm. “ Version ?” He groans. “Don’t tell me that was another doppelgänger…”

“How else would I have gained your attention?”

Ronald sucks in a deep breath, then slams his fist against the wall. “Fuck.” He stares at Ronan. “So you’re tellin’ me, the William that’s been with me and his parents, wasn’t the real one? That the real one’s still in the town hall for all I know?!”

“Yes.” Ronan smiles, but it isn’t comforting. If anything, it’s unsettling. “But I will give you some peace of mind. He isn’t alone, nor is he still in the confines of the town hall.”

“He’s not…?”

“No. He wanders with Oliver keeping him company.”

“Oliver,” he repeats, trying to decide if that’s a good thing or not before settling on the idea that it’s better than being completely alone. That is, if Ronan’s even telling the truth. “Fine. I’ll believe you.”

“You didn’t have much of a choice.”

Ronald grits his teeth, but holds his tongue, knowing it’s probably best to stay on Ronan’s good side. “Then, what’s with the journal? Why is everything so normal all of a sudden?”

“Because I have things I want to show you.”

“Like what? Why didn’t you just come get me instead of sending a fake Will to lure me out?”

“Because that man you were with. I don’t like him,” Ronan answers, gripping tighter to the journal. “Mother was overly fond of him. She was overly fond of his son as well, and that man was dedicated to Haven. He may have left, but I know he would still find a way to rat me out to mother. She wants to earn my forgiveness by destroying what I’ve done to this town because of what she did to me, and I want to show you just exactly what she did.”

Ronald scratches the side of his head. “What about his wife? Are you—?”

“William’s mother is of no concern. At least, not that one.”

Not that one . Ronald feels like he knows what that means, and it would add up as to why Kimiko’s acting the way she is, but is it possible for her to have a doppelgänger? He and William were clearly exposed to this town for long enough that, somehow, theirs were able to manifest. As far as he knows, this is Callum and Kimiko’s first time in Haven since…well, since they left the first time. “Fine,” he eventually concedes. “Show me what you need to.”

“Good.” He offers Ronald the journal. “Then follow me.”

Ronald cautiously takes the journal, glancing down at it once before trailing after Ronan, amazed by the life bursting around him. The town shimmers under a warm sun, colours vivid and alive, the streets bustling with people going about their day. It’s a far cry from the lifeless place he knows now. "Wow...yeah, this place looks ideal compared to what it is now," he comments, glancing over his shoulder to speak to Ronan, only to realise he’s gone. He blinks, looking right, then left. Nothing. "Hello?! Ronan?!"

"That’s it. I’ve told her."

"I can’t believe it. A part of me didn’t think ye’d come out alive."

"Didn’t think I would either, but I did, and now we’ve got to go. The longer we stay, the sooner that bloody ‘Star’ will know we’re leavin’."

Ronald realises he’s standing in the middle of a street, right outside the house Callum was trying to get William to follow him inside of. The Slingby’s. His heart leaps when he sees two figures he guesses are Eric’s parents. "No way…" he whispers, ducking quickly into an alleyway and pressing himself against the brick wall, just enough to peek around and watch.

"Are you certain we’ll be able to leave as freely as you think we can?" the woman asks, hoisting a battered suitcase into her husband’s arms.

"Aye. So long as we leave ‘fore she lets the entire town know…so long as we go before Callum knows."

"He wouldn’t…he wouldn’t try to stop us, would he?"

"I dunno, Ava. I wanna say he wouldn’t, but knowin’ his place among Rebecca’s ranks, can’t say if he would or wouldn’t."

"Do ye think he’ll eventually see through Rebecca’s shite as well? I…I don’t know how I feel leavin’ knowing what’ll eventually become of their wean."

"I know, I don’t like it either, but we gotta think of ourselves for now. Think of Eric. We can’t save other children if we can’t save ourselves."

"Yes. I suppose you’re right," Ava murmurs, turning back into the house. "Eric! We’re leaving! Hurry up!" Ronald’s breath catches when he sees a young boy—no older than ten—hurry after her, innocence radiating off him. It’s Eric, but so young, so untouched by the horrors that will one day define him. It feels wrong to see him like this, knowing what lies ahead.

A painful pull tugs at Ronald’s heart, but he knows he can’t follow. Ronan brought him here for a reason, and right now, he needs to find out what that is. He glances down at the journal still clutched in his hand, debating. It might hold answers...or it might summon Rebecca (and her terrifying henchmen) straight to him, as Ronan alluded it would. Alone, he doesn’t stand a chance...like William, who’s alone now too. Oliver or not, it’s not the same. They’d promised to stick together, but the William he’d been with—the William his parents thought was their son—had been nothing but an illusion. "I’m sorry, Will. I really, really am. Just...stay safe, yeah? I’ll find you again. I promise." With that vow seared into his heart, Ronald keeps moving, searching for Ronan, but so far, the boy’s nowhere to be found. Not that anyone around seems to notice Ronald either. It’s like he’s a ghost...and maybe that’s all they are here.

He wanders aimlessly for a while, the town unfolding around him like a half-remembered dream, until he stumbles into a park bursting with vibrant flowers and perfectly trimmed bushes. The care lavished on the place makes the centrepiece all the more eerie—a statue, towering and imposing. It depicts a well-dressed gentleman, one hand pressed solemnly over his chest, the other tucked behind his back as if making a pledge. His carved eyes are hollow yet intense, and his long, flowing hair has been sculpted to look as though caught in an eternal breeze. He looks...normal. Too normal, and that unsettles Ronald more than anything.

He edges closer and squints at the plaque at the statue’s base. No name, only that symbol that might be his family emblem. He looks up again, locking eyes with the statue. This must be the ‘Star’ everyone's talked about. Even in stone, he radiates a crushing, domineering aura.

“I wanted to take you to your favourite place so we could talk.”

Ronald’s head snaps towards the voice. Rebecca.

Instinctively, he ducks behind the statue, crouching low, not at all confident he’s truly invisible. “Why are we here?” That is Ronan speaking.

“Because mummy wanted to talk to you about something very important.”

“What is it?”

“My darling, I need you to be a big boy...and take your brother’s place at the ceremony.”

There’s a long, agonising pause. “Me?”

“I’m afraid so.”

“But...but you promised I’d never be the one.”

“I know. I’m sorry. But I must break that promise. You know what’s become of Ronald and Oliver.”

“But...but...you said I’d never be a candidate.”

“I’m afraid I have no other choice. You know how demanding our Star is. You’re the only one left.”

“No…”

“Ronan, the choice has been made. I’d hoped you would take the news better.”

“No! No, I don’t want to! You promised!”

“Ronan—”

“NO!”

In an instant, the world around Ronald twists and collapses. The bright colours and bustling life vanish, replaced by rot and decay. The abandoned, hollow version of the town looms once more. The only thing that remains untouched is the statue.

Slowly, Ronald straightens, stepping out from his hiding place to face it. His chest tightens painfully as he stares up into the statue’s blank eyes. “He was the only one left, huh?” he mutters. “Bloody hell...It’s bad enough being born to be a sacrifice, but to have what little future you think you have ripped away from you...that’s almost worse.” He glances down at the journal still gripped in his hand. “Can I open this now? Or am I still in danger?” With no answer or any sign of Ronan, he takes a steadying breath and carefully opens the journal:

With my thoughts as scattered as they are, I figured a journal would help me put them in order. The demon came to me again, asking, as he always does, if I’d be willing to work with him. He tells me he cannot bring my son back, but he can create a utopia, a place where families would be safe from another demon attack, even from the Board themselves. The idea is tempting, I’ll admit that much, but am I desperate enough to make a contract with a demon? He hasn’t told me what he would want in return, and that leaves me on edge. These creatures are not known for being generous without expecting something grand in return, but what could that be? Surely offering reapers, his sworn enemy, a place of safety would come with a hefty price. I shudder to think of what that price might be.

I’ve thought about asking Callum, as I know he harbours that same contempt as I do, but he has a reputation for being loyal. But then I have to ask myself, why would he even care? Him and Kimiko have no family of their own to protect, so why should it bother him if I make this deal? He doesn’t understand the kind of pain that comes with losing a child, especially to something as uncontrollable as this. Maybe I should take the deal. Corrupt the Board’s precious realm with the very thing they despise, because of what they did to me, to my son, and to those children they failed to protect in our realm. If they don’t care about us, why should I care about destroying what they hold dear?

Ronald sighs, closing the journal with a soft snap. "So, mum lost a kid before, huh?" he mutters, his voice thick with disbelief. "I guess, in some twisted way, I can see why she’d want to make this place, but that still doesn’t give you an excuse, mum! And to make a contract without knowing the terms…" He pauses, looking up at the statue looming in front of him. "And you’re that demon, huh? You’re a suave bloke, gotta give that to ya, but I’m gonna enjoy taking this place down for what you did to all the families here." As he turns his back on the statue, a strange sensation crawls up his spine. It’s as if someone’s watching him. Whipping around, his heart skips a beat. Of course, there’s no one there—only the cold, lifeless eyes of the statue, but they feel different now. A subtle shift. The eyes are just a little bit more alive than they were a second ago.

Chapter Text

"I'm tired."

William stops and glances down at Oliver, the boy lagging behind now, his small frame trudging along with clear fatigue, one hand rubbing at a heavy-lidded eye. To his credit, it's been an eventful day, and William isn't sure how spiritual energy works. As of now, they wander aimlessly down through the abandoned streets, William trying to concoct a plan of action in his head. With one key of the pipe organ acquired, where are the other two? Oliver himself is a quiet companion, only really speaking when spoken to, but his presence brings a certain amount of comfort to William. In this hellish place, especially with Ronald gone, William finds solace in simply not being alone.

He thinks about it. He thinks about storming the town hall with his newfound weapon and running Rebecca through, but his rational mind is quick to remind him how futile that would be. Not only is Rebecca protected by those strange bodyguards of hers, he is shunned from their safe haven, meaning who knows if he can even enter the building again. "We've been wandering for a while," William says, stopping and turning to the boy. "Why don't we take a break and rest for now?"

"That'll be okay?" Oliver asks quietly.

"Why wouldn't it?"

"You wanna do all these things. Wouldn't a break make it take longer?"

"It might, yes, but it's never wise to deny what the body needs." At least Oliver won't realise how hypocritical that sounds coming from him. "If you are tired, we will take a break." He scans the road ahead of them, waiting for the wind to pick up and tell him that something is lurking beyond this damnable fog, but it doesn't. It remains a gentle breeze and that's enough, at least for now. They can afford a few minutes. "Let's stop here," he suggests, gesturing to the side of a boarded-up butcher's shop. It's not the most inviting of places to rest, but he doesn't intend to linger long enough for it to matter.

"Okay," Oliver says simply, plopping down beside the building. He rubs both eyes now, a yawn escaping him.

"I'm sure it's late for you," William comments, easing himself down with a wince as pain pulses through his back.

"Yeah…" Oliver leans into him, small arms wrapping around William's waist, snuggling up to him as if he were a life-sized teddy bear.

William freezes; the gesture is so innocent, so trusting. Slowly, cautiously, he wraps an arm around the boy in return, holding him close. The contact pulls a different kind of ache from within him–one born of grief and helpless longing. "I promise to free you. All of you," he whispers, pressing the boy tighter to his side. He rests the back of his head against the cold stone wall, eyes closing as his thoughts race–the hotel is a dead end, the hospital only raises more questions, and the only place left that could yield something is now locked away from him. What other options do they have? "I don't suppose there's any other place you'd care to show me?" he asks in a half-joking manner, expecting Oliver to mumble something back.

Silence.

He opens his eyes, for a moment, believing Oliver had fallen asleep until he realises the pressure of the boy next to him is gone. Looking down, it's confirmed. Oliver’s vanished. "Oliver?!" he calls out before lurching to his feet, immediately regretting that as pain blazes up his spine, forcing him to seek support against the wall. "Damn it…" he breathes out, his hand tightening around the handle of the knife. There's no sign of the boy.

"William?!" He grips tighter to the knife. No. No, he won't fall for any more tricks of this damn town. "William! Answer me!" He refuses to look in the direction he swears he hears his father calling him from. His parents, let alone his father, wouldn't come for him, and the woman that the fake Ronald told him was here is clearly just a trick, a lure to get him to that house…that house…perhaps there's something else there.

A force slams him back against the wall, followed by something gripping tightly to his shoulders. His reaction is instinctual, lashing out with the knife at whatever dares try to hold him down, and the blade glances across the throat of…his father? Thankfully, the man reacts in time to pull back before any real damage can be done, but the blade still nicks him, a small trickle of blood beading from the small wound. "What the bloody hell do you think you're doing?!"

William doesn't want to give this figment even the title of 'father'. Instead, he holds himself defensively, knife at the ready, willing to strike if given a reason. "If you think I'm going to allow this place to whittle me down, then you're sorely mistaken."

"Put that damn thing away!"

"I have no intention of doing so!"

The slap comes hard and swift, cracking his neck in the process as his head is forced to the side. He stands there, stunned for a few moments, his brain catching up to understand what just happened. "Enough! You do not raise a weapon to your father!"

William slowly blinks once before turning his head back towards the woman's voice. "Mother…?"

"Of course it's your mother," Kimiko tuts, "what has gotten into you?! What happened to your shirt?! Your arms?! And where did you ever get that knife?!" She presses an exasperated hand to her temple. "Your friend wouldn't happen to be with you, is he?"

William blinks again. "Friend…?"

"Ronald Knox," Callum replies, still clearly bothered by the family Ronald is related to.

"What?" William breathes, genuine shock overtaking him, his shoulders going slack as he stares at both of them. "Ronald? He's alive? You saw him?"

Callum and Kimiko exchange a worrying glance. "William, you were with us as well," Callum tells him.

"No. No, I wasn't."

"Have you lost your mind?"

William almost laughs. "Honestly? In this place, I may have." But none of that matters when he's just been told Ronald is still alive. Yes, there's a chance the Ronald that his parents met was another doppelgänger, but that almost means there's a chance the one he witnessed die again was one as well. "What matters most is that you've told me Ronald is alive, and that's all that matters to me at the moment. Where did he go? What happened to him?"

"I believe you've completely lost the plot," Callum sighs. "You were with us."

"No, I wasn't." He feels his frustration mounting. "Father, mother, you must believe me. The me you were with wasn't me."

"You expect us to believe there are two of you running around then?"

"Technically speaking, yes. There is." He still sees the disbelief in his parents' eyes. He scoffs with a roll of his own, shoving past his father because he's just been told Ronald is alive, and that's far more important to him right now. "Believe me or not, it doesn't matter. What does, is Ronald, and I will find him again."

The strike comes swiftly to his back, and the pain is so great, his vision blacks out for a second. When it returns, he's on his hands and knees, feeling undignified tears in his eyes while his back feels like it's on fire. "Enough of this. The town has clearly affected you, and we will return home where you will get the help you need," he hears his father standing behind him, his tone leaving no room for argument.

William breathes through the pain, through his gritted teeth while he fights off the anger, the idea that slashing his father's throat wouldn't have been such a bad idea. "I will not leave without Ronald," William declares when he finally finds his voice. He swallows, gripping tight to the handle of the knife again as he painfully pushes himself to his feet. "As I said. I do not care if you believe me or not, if you think this town has altered my thinking, for my only care right now is finding Knox." He turns around, pulling himself to stand straight in front of his father's eyes. "Strike me again, I don't care. It will not stop me." A part of him almost expects his mother to be on his side, to be outraged that his father hit him, but she remains oddly placid. "Well? Will you allow me to go?"

William sees the hidden rage behind his father's eyes, a rage he's seen plenty of times before. "William," his father begins slowly, clearly trying to control himself just as much as William is, "we will go. That is not up for discussion."

"I wasn't aware you still had control over me and what I choose to do."

"You nearly killed yourself because you were overwhelmed. At this point, I believe I should."

William's eye twitches. "Overwhelmed? That's the reason you're going to believe why I tried to do what I did?" He lets out a dry chuckle, glaring at his father, "forgive me for experiencing true and honest heartbreak for the first time in my life. For feeling such a guttural sense of guilt, for feeling the pain of seeing the man I loved in the arms of another. Yes, forgive me for being 'overwhelmed'."

"And now you're being dramatic. What you felt was not love. Had that been true, you would have married him. What you felt was infatuation, most likely because no matter what your mother and I did, you refused to even give the women we tried to set you up with a chance, and this lad was your first real trial of what proper love could be."

William feels the handle of the knife weighing more in his hand. "I am going to be the bigger man here and assume Haven warped what you perceived to be as 'true love' because clearly, there is no point in arguing with someone who will not see what I had with Alan as such." He takes a step toward his father, "because I know you and mother lived in this place before you fled."

Callum stands his ground, trying to appear taller, stronger. "I told you, we will discuss all of this when we are home."

"I'd rather discuss this here where you cannot lie to me, because if I sense even one, I am more than willing to take this blade and ram it straight through you."

"William!" Kimiko looks horrified at even just the idea of what William's threatening to do.

The surprise that flashes across Callum's face is satisfying. "You wouldn't dare do that to your father."

"No? And why not?"

"Because I am your—"

"You may be my parent, yes," William concedes, still refusing to lower the blade, "but you were never a father."

Callum is further taken aback by that statement. "You've lost your mind."

"I haven't, no. Instead, I've had my eyes open to all the lies you both have told me!" There's fire burning in his eyes. "The injury I was so ashamed of? The injury that forced me to leave, wasn't at all from a death scythe, I know it wasn't! Somehow, somehow, it was from a demon, and you two refused to ever tell me that! Refused to tell me that when I completely believed I failed both of you after I lost that duel, that it wasn't all my fault. That I was suffering from this injury years before. You both pushed me, continuously, until I reached my limit, and not once did either of you even dare to think that maybe, you should have told me that I had a certain limit that other reapers don't have." He shakes his head, "for Styx’s sake, there was a good chance I'd never even walk again!"

Kimiko's face falls into a more sullen look, and she folds her hands, holding them up to her lips. "You must have found the medical report then."

"I did." William pulls out the folded chart and flicks it toward his mother, the folded paper landing at her feet. "Both of you have so much to answer for. So many answers I deserve."

Kimiko leans down to pick up the folded paper, and the look of resignation in her eyes when she unfolds it is somewhat relieving. "From the hospital," she tells Callum. "The original of the document we were given."

Callum sighs, crossing his arms to take a more defensive stance. "Fine. Yes. You were injured years before the death scythe re-opened it, but your mother and I could barely look you in the eyes after our experiences in Haven, let alone tell you that you suffered there because we chose to raise a family here."

William keeps the knife at the ready. "Do you expect me to have sympathy then? To understand all of a sudden?"

"No. What I do expect is for you to return home with us so we may discuss this in private," Callum continues to insist.

William scowls. "I have told you, I am not leaving without Ronald."

"William, you have a very important position that requires your attention. Eric may only cover for you for so long before your department needs you."

"You mean Eric Slingby? Son of the family that you slaughtered?"

"William."

It's the first time he hears real anger in his father's voice, as well as sees it on his face. "What? All I speak is the truth." He lowers the knife just slightly. "In fact, it makes sense why you were so harsh on me. Why you were so...demanding. You were the school principal, meaning you were used to dealing with children and especially, mother, enacting punishments on the misbehaving ones."

"We have admitted as such, we've told you and your friend before."

"And I keep telling you that. Wasn't. Me."

"Stop this," Kimiko interjects. "Just stop it. This is not the place to argue. You have work that requires your attention, and once everything is taken care of back home, then we may speak."

William flicks the knife toward her. "Work," he repeats, narrowing his eyes. "Because that's the most important thing to both of you, isn't it? My own well-being means very little when the reputation of the Spears family could be on the line, yes?" He gives her a dry smile. "Considering what you've said, I can only guess you've spoken to Eric, hell, even Ronald, and let me guess, you two played nice, didn't you? You two played the part of the 'oh so doting' parents, when in reality, you're just as cold as the realm perceives me as. At least I have the decency to be honest with my disposition upfront." He lowers the knife but remains alert, prepared for a fight if need be. "I am not leaving without Ronald. He is not someone I intend to forget or replace. He has friends, people who care for him, and if I were to lose him for good…" His voice trails off, thinking of the heartache he endured the first two times he thought he really had, "then you'd have to replace me as well. I will not leave him."

"You're being unreasonable," Callum sighs, but there's just a bit of that paternal worry inching into his voice. "We have limited time to leave this place, and you'd waste it defending and looking for a man who doesn't matter."

"To you, I'm sure he doesn't, but to those that are worried for his well-being? To me? He matters a great deal."

"Are you in love with him?"

William's the one taken aback now, staring at his mother because that's a question he not once expected to answer. "I…"

The silence hangs in the air. That's answer enough.

Callum closes his eyes and breathes out as Kimiko takes Callum's hand like a comfort. "That explains why you're so adamant about looking for him."

William breathes out slowly. "You needn't worry. My feelings are not returned in the same way."

Kimiko's voice drops to a whisper, gripping tighter to Callum's hand, "we had hoped Alan would be the only time you tried something like this."

William clenches his jaw. "I will not explain my being to you, or anyone. I've spent years trying to do that with myself." He looks between his mother and father. "I will not leave. I will not abandon Ronald in this place."

They take their time to respond, William wondering why he's even standing here waiting for what they have to say, but before they can even say it–"Get off of me!"

William's head jerks up. That's Ronald. It's like his father knows the moment he'd hear the cry of his companion, William would run to his rescue because Callum quickly thrusts out his arm and grabs William by the wrist. "We are not done talking."

William reacts almost instantly, brandishing the knife and shoving it against Callum's throat, letting the blade slice just a little deeper into the cut it made before. "Let me go," he growls. "I don't give a damn if you still have something to say, Ronald needs me." With eyes that betray his shock, Callum immediately lets William's wrist go, and William doesn't waste another second, running toward Ronald's voice.

********************

"You know Ronan, it's not very nice to take someone somewhere then leave!" Ronald yells into the empty streets. He has no idea where he's going. Once he left the park, he lost all sense of direction, too caught up in the awe of what the town used to look like. Now he isn't even sure he could find the hotel again.

It's been eerily quiet ever since he witnesses the past, and he can't tell if that's a good thing. Will the town treat him differently now that he knows its secrets? Will Ronan let him walk freely without feeling like he's constantly being watched? And where the hell is William in all of this–especially now that he's just been told that the William he thought he escaped with wasn't William at all. "I'm so tired of these doppelgängers," he groans, dragging his feet along the cracked road. "Can I have my real Will back, please? I don't care if he brings Oliver, I just want to know he's okay!" There's no answer, of course. Still, as he walks, he starts to recognise some of the buildings he passes. Maybe, just maybe, he's on the right path.

His thoughts drift. What if he and William do get out of this cursed town? What happens then? He tells himself this would be temporary, that once they leave, they'd go back to boss and subordinate, but…what if that changes? What if he chooses to break the mental blockade his mother had forced upon him? Could he really be with William? The older reaper has his flaws, sure, but he's been nothing but patient with Ronald. He never pushed Ronald. Their kisses never go further than what Ronald is comfortable with, and now, Ronald knows the truth that Rebecca was his mother, not Rose. If Rose thought him such a burden, why had she taken him from this place? Why risk herself to protect him? Something doesn't add up, and he hates not knowing the answer.

The air shifts. It grows thick, heavy.

Ronald freezes.

Then he hears it–the sickening crack and pop of joints shifting unnaturally. He swallows hard and forces himself to turn.

From the alley, it comes. That thing. It shuffles into view, grotesque and wrong, its smile even wider than before. It's moving faster now–too fast.

Ronald runs. He doesn't look back until curiosity gets the better of him, and when he does, his heart drops. It's right there.

He stumbles and falls when the monster lashes out and grabs his ankle, yanking his leg backward. He hits the asphalt hard, the wind knocked out of him. He rolls to his back, trying to kick the monster away as it slowly starts climbing up his body; he's broken out into a cold sweat, trying desperately to fight the creature off. "Get off of me!" No matter how hard he tries, the creature overpowers him, and it's ready to devour him.

Just as he thinks this is where he dies for good this time, the monster is suddenly kicked off him, the sound of bone snapping and breaking surprising Ronald as the creature collapses to its side, a horrible, sickly wheeze coming from it, and there, standing over him–knife in hand, spine ramrod straight–is William.

William.

Ronald can't breathe for a moment, watching William who doesn't lower the blade until he's certain the creature is gone, slipping into the shadows. Only then does William turn, dropping to his knee beside Ronald before slowly lowering himself to both. His once stiff posture is now hunched, pain radiating through his back. Coupled with the strike from his father earlier, he's surprised he's still walking. "I apologise," he says, voice a little hoarse, "that may not have been the most ideal rescue."

Ronald stares at him, wide-eyed. "Are you…you?"

William gives him a crooked half-smile. "I'd like to think so." Ronald sits up, searching William's face for anything that might tell him William's lying, but instead, he finds the one thing that tells him the truth. It's the pain. It's the way William winces, the way he clearly looks ready to keel over from it. The other William hardly showed any discomfort, but this one…this one feels that pain.

It's enough.

Ronald reaches out, cups William's face, and pulls him into a kiss. A real kiss, deep and fierce. William lets out a soft, surprised sound, his hands gripping Ronald's arms, holding him steady.

When he eventually pulls away, Ronald can't help but smile at William, letting his hands drop to the man's shoulders. "Hey, I'm not dead, so I call that the perfect rescue."

William blinks several times, still clearly reeling from the kiss, then sharply turns his head to the side to adjust his glasses in rapid movements. "Yes, well, good. I am…glad." Ronald snorts and hugs him, arms wrapping tightly around William. The older reaper doesn't hesitate to return the embrace fully, drawing Ronald in close.

The moment stretches between them, the usual, uncomfortable quiet not so bothersome in this embrace until Ronald breaks it with a question. "What happened? I thought it was you that carried me away from the town hall."

"And I believed it was you who'd been slaughtered right before me–again," William replies, cupping Ronald's cheek with a trembling hand. The relief in his eyes is unmistakable, "I can't tell you what it means to me to see the light in your eyes again."

Ronald doesn't want to know what happened to the fake him. "Nope. Still alive and kickin'…like you just did. By the way, nice form." That earns a rare laugh from William, low and breathless. He hugs Ronald once more, holding him so tightly it's as though he fears Ronald might leave him again. For a moment, for a single, fragile moment, it feels like everything might be alright. "How's your back?" Ronald murmurs, still nestled against William's chest.

"I'm in immense pain," William admits with a pained smile, "but finding you again has outweighed that discomfort."

Ronald pulls back with a frown. "Your mum should have your pain meds."

"Ah, grand. When Oliver and I returned to the hotel, they were missing, but I'm pleased to know they weren't completely stolen."

Ronald sits up straighter. "Oliver? So he really was with you?"

"He was. He told me a few rather interesting things, about myself, and Ronan."

Ronald raises an eyebrow. "Like what?" William takes a moment, then carefully recounts everything that happens during their separation, every detail he can recall. Ronald listens, nodding, wide-eyed and focused. When William finishes, Ronald exhales. "So…when Oliver says Ronan wants to use me to get out, what exactly do you think that means?"

"I don't know for certain," William answers. "Even Oliver seems to know both too much and not enough. He's still very much a child in some ways. Innocent, despite everything."

"Damn…" Ronald whispers. "Look, Will, we should go. We're together again, nothing's stopping us now. Your folks know how to get out, right?”

William hesitates, eyes lowering. The answer already weighs heavy on his tongue. "I…I cannot."

Ronald openly, wide-eyed, stares at him "What do you mean you can't?! There's nothing in our way this time, Will!"

"I made a vow to Oliver. I promised I'd help him."

"Like I wanted to, but we said we could go back and bring backup, remember? We don't have to do this alone."

"I know, but I gave Oliver my word, Ronald. I can't abandon him."

Ronald frowns, confusion and frustration flickering across his features. "Why's Oliver so important to you all of a sudden?"

William hesitates again, not because he doubts his answer–but because he fears Ronald's reaction. "Now would not be a good time to talk about this," he tells his companion, feeling the searing heat of his back.

Ronald sees the increasingly painful look on William's face, and once he's grabbed his mother's journal, he gets to his feet, then helps William to his. The older reaper can barely stand straight, hunched incredibly low to the point Ronald knows he needs the help, even if he won't ask for it. "I got you, Will," Ronald promises, slinging William's arm around his shoulders. "Lean on me as much as you need."

William winces, regretting that he needs the kind of support Ronald's offering, but he can't deny that he needs it. "Thank you," he eventually forces out, feeling like he's speaking through flames, "I desperately hope my mother has my prescription like you claim she does."

"Your mum…" Not that one. He looks at William, debating if he should tell William what Ronan said or not. "I know you're dealing with your back right now, but I've got to warn you about her."

William gives him a side glance. "What of?"

He breathes in then out. "Ronan told me, kind of, that your mum isn't the real one."

William looks away, trying to decide if that's information worth caring about. While he likes his mother better than his father, does he really care if she's outright replaced? "I suppose that explains some of her behaviour," he comments, wincing as he takes another step.

"Should we tell your dad?"

"No," William answers immediately. "If he cannot see there is something wrong with his wife, then that is his own fault."

"I mean, yeah. That's true."

They go quiet as William focuses on walking, trying to ignore the pain that rips up his spine at every step. He's truly grateful for Ronald's help, doubting he'd be able to make it very far on his own. He suspects his back wouldn't be bothering him as much if his father hadn't decided to strike him like he did.

When Ronald helps him toward the Slingby home, William looks upon the house with familiarity. "What is this place?" he asks Ronald.

"Believe it or not, this is where Eric used to live."

"What?"

"Yeah."

William blinks, then narrows his eyes. "This is where I found the principal key."

"Really…?"

"Yes."

Ronald swallows. "Small world…"

"I'd say a more carefully designed world." Ronald would have to agree there, because clearly, this place leads them to what it wants them to find.

When they enter the house, Callum is there to greet them, clearly looking none too impressed with William, Ronald noticing he's giving his son a wide berth as he directs them toward the sitting-room. "You look awful," Callum states as Ronald helps William to the couch.

"Thank you for stating the obvious, father," William replies with a wince as he sinks down into the cushions. He then turns his attention to his mother, observing her carefully now that Ronald's mentioned she may very well not be his real mother. She physically looks as she usually does, but he supposes so did the fake Ronald’s. "Ronald told me you have my pain medication, mother?"

Kimiko looks almost puzzled at Ronald. "I do?"

Ronald's brow furrows. "I saw you put them in your pocket."

She pats around said pockets, but she turns up with nothing. "I think you're mistaken, Mr. Knox."

Ronald stares at her then switches his attention to William who, thankfully, is giving his mother a scrutinising look. Seems he believes Ronald about her. "Then since Knox doesn't have them, I can assume they really are missing?"

Callum sighs, shaking his head. "This is another reason why you should come back with us, William. We are the only ones that are able to get you that prescription."

"I'm staying. Nothing will make me change my mind."

"Why? You have that friend of yours, what other possible bloody reason do you need to stay for?"

"I don't need to answer you."

Ronald, who'd been content to let William and Callum bicker, makes up his mind when he sees how adamant William is. He takes William's hand and holds it tight. "We're both staying." He sees the surprise flash across William's face, but William returning the hold on his hand tells Ronald he made the right choice.

Callum looks back at Kimiko before rolling his eyes, putting his fingers to his temple. "This is a terrible idea. The town will destroy both of you. I implore you to reconsider."

"No," William says.

"If they wish to stay, Callum, then we should not force them."

Kimiko grabs all their attention, Callum clearly put off by her. "And you. What's changed? You were just as adamant as I was about bringing our son home, and now you don't care."

"I care," she assures, touching his arm, "but we know how stubborn our son can be. Forcing him to leave will not get anyone anywhere."

"I still want to know why. At first he claims because he will not leave without Ronald, so what excuse is it now?"

"It is not an excuse, but it is a reason I do not feel the need to disclose to you," William snaps at him. "Knox and I will be fine on our own."

Callum glares at his son before looking down at his watch. 7:59. "Unfortunately, we've run out of time for us to argue or even try to convince you to come with us." He unlatches his watch from his wrist. "I will repeat what I told you before since you claim it 'wasn't you' that was with us before. This home is a hotspot that allows us to travel between this realm and ours, but it is only open for one minute, and one minute only," Callum explains again, offering William his watch.

"I can only assume that minute is eight?" William guesses, accepting the watch, pleased to see the hands on the face of this clock are actually ticking.

Callum exhales. "Yes. Eight."

"Of course," William mutters, securing his father's watch around his wrist. "Then you'd best be going. It's nearly eight." Kimiko reaches out, briefly touching William's arm. Then she turns to Callum, taking his hand properly, and William gives his father a nod the moment the minute changes.

Callum gives him a curt nod in return, and with a wave of his hand, he opens a portal. "Your last chance."

"We're staying." Callum closes his eyes, and for a few precious moments, he doesn't move, perhaps hoping William would change his mind last minute, but eventually, he steps through the portal, pulling Kimiko through with him.

The portal closes the moment the minute changes, and now, they're alone again. "I…I'm surprised you stayed," William finally says to break the silence.

Ronald looks down at their hands before leaning over and placing a chaste kiss to William's lips. "You can't do whatever it is you wanna do, on your own. Especially with your back like this."

William sighs, knowing Ronald's right. "Still. I fully expected you to leave," he comments, finally choosing to lie down. He releases a sigh of relief when the pressure is completely off his spine.

"Well, like you wouldn't without me, I wouldn't without you," he promises, holding William's hand between both his own now. "Just, now that we're alone, can you tell me why you're staying?"

William meets Ronald's eyes, seeing the sincerity in his question. "I want to stay because of Oliver." He looks away from Ronald, finding it hard to admit what he's trying to. "A part of me, a very deep part of me that I long since buried, has grown attached to the child, and I…" He sighs, deciding to just say it, "And I want to think of him as something like a son. As close as I could get to possibly having one of my own."

Ronald blinks. "A son?"

"Yes." He runs his hand over his forehead. "I don't expect you to understand, but my heart tells me I need to stay with him. To protect him. I can't turn my back on him."

Ronald's brow furrows, trying to put himself in William's shoes. When he told William he'd be a good father one day, he meant it. He just didn't think it'd be for his little brother. His dead little brother. "I think I get it, but wouldn't you want your own kid instead? Wouldn't that mean more than some ghost kid?"

William takes a deep breath, preparing to tell Ronald something he's never even told Alan. "Because I cannot have children of my own."

Ronald's mouth drops open. "You can't?"

"No," William answers, shifting just a bit to try easing up some of the pain on his back.

Ronald rubs the back of his neck, still not entirely sure what to say in this situation. "How…did you know?"

William knew the question was coming, but answering it still feels a little too personal and still a little too painful. "My drive is incredibly low, and when, shall we say, the moment arose, I would…lose momentum rather quickly."

Ronald awkwardly smirks at that. "Yeah…can't say I've ever had that problem, heh." He looks back at William. "But, you tried before? With who?"

William adjusts his glasses, deciding he might as well just tell Ronald the whole story. "After I graduated from the academy, I had no desire to date, yet I was relentlessly pressured to give my parents grandchildren. That's when I met another reaper–someone who was under the same expectations. We talked. We understood each other. Eventually, she suggested a solution that would please both our families. We'd have a child together, kill two birds with one stone, as it were. We shared a few interests, and I thought…maybe I could grow to love her." He draws in a sharp breath, then lets it out slowly. "But there were problems. Personal ones that I won't go into. We visited a doctor, hoping for answers. We were both tested, and in the end…" He lowers his gaze. "I was the one who couldn't give her what she wanted."

Ronald groans, rubbing his hands over his face. "Now I feel like a complete arse saying you'd be a good dad one day."

William smiles softly. "You didn't know. No one did. Not even my parents."

"Still…I get why you reacted the way you did." He looks up at William again. "Can I ask one more thing?"

"Go ahead."

"Did you ever end up loving her?"

To Ronald's relief, a relief he doesn't want to examine too closely, William shakes his head. "No. There was no love. It was meant to be transactional."

"Huh." Ronald nearly says good , but catches himself, biting down on the word. He reminds himself that all of this–whatever it is–is temporary. Once they escape Haven, they go back to their roles: boss and subordinate. Nothing more. "And now that you've got that knife, we've got a weapon, yeah?"

"Hopefully." William gestures to the old, worn book Ronald's carried with him. "And that is?"

"Huh? Oh! Mum's journal, apparently. Ronan showed it to me. Showed me a few things, actually."

"What exactly are those 'few things'?" So Ronald explains what he's been through, explains what Ronan showed him, and William closes his eyes. "They were afraid of my father." He scoffs. "I knew he was an arsehole, but learning all of this really solidifies that."

Ronald holds the journal tightly in his hands. "So, you really don't get along with your parents, huh?"

"I'm sure you can gather that much. I much prefer my mother to my father, however." He removes his glasses to rub at his eyes.

Ronald tilts his head. "How's your back now?"

"Not as bad as it was. Hopefully, I'll be able to sleep off the rest of the pain."

Ronald gently takes William's glasses from his hand, folds in the arms, and reaches forward to set them on the coffee table. "Why don't you try to get that sleep then, eh?"

He takes a deep breath. "I think you're right. I shall." He nearly closes his eyes, only keeping them open enough to keep Ronald in his blurry sights. "What about yourself?"

"I'm knackered too, but I'll keep watch."

William slips his fingers into Ronald's hand, holding it gently but firmly. "I'd sleep better with you."

Ronald glances down. "Couch is kind of small. Unless you're thinking of me lying on top of you."

"If you wish. I cannot guarantee it'll be entirely comfortable."

Ronald thinks for a moment, then gently manoeuvres himself over William, finding a way to nestle close without causing too much discomfort. He rests his head against William's shoulder. "This good?"

"Are you comfortable?"

"You know what, yeah. I," he yawns, "am."

"Then so am I."

Ronald smiles and closes his eyes, sighing softly as William's arms wrap around him. It's been a hell of a day, but ending it with the real William beside him, safe and warm, feels like the first step back toward peace.

********************

"Right, Rose said she's going to be turnin’ in fer the night," Eric announces as he steps back into the sitting room. Grell lounges across the couch, filing down a nail while Alan stands stiffly by the fireplace, arms folded tightly against his chest. "We should have more privacy now."

"Good," Alan replies, his tone clipped. His eyes are fixed on the carpet, his brow furrowed, thoughts in deep calculation. "Because it strikes me as strange. She comes to us in tears, terrified for Ronald, only for her entire demeanour to shift the moment she steps foot in this house." He glances up, leaning more on his right leg. "Not to mention she called herself Ronald's mother."

"She probably thought it'd tug at your heartstrings," Grell muses, admiring her crimson red nails. "Pity can get you many things, after all."

"It bloody worked then," Eric mutters, leaning back against the wall. His arms hang limp at his side, but there's tension in his shoulders, betraying his unease.

Alan doesn't look away. "I still can't shake the feeling something's not right. We should've heard of her before. Ronald's not careless with his past, but he's not guarded either. You'd think he'd have mentioned her."

"It’s like I told ye before Al, some of us just don’t like talkin’ about family.” he runs his fingers through his loose blond hair, “but, I will agree. It’s strange she switched like she did."

Grell tilts her head, gaze switching from Eric to Alan then back to Eric. "I think I'm inclined to agree with Allie. Ronnie doesn't keep many secrets, not from us, Eric. If she really mattered, he would have said something, even just an offhand comment." She taps her chin as she thinks. "Come to think of it, it feels like he's gone out of his way to avoid mentioning anything about family."

Eric exhales through his nose, crossing his arms. I’m sorry but I can’t bring myself to agree with the both of ye. Family isn't somethin’ some reapers share freely. Some things are kept locked away, even from those closest to–"

A sudden, sharp knock at the door draws all their attention to it. Eric shoves away from the wall and opens the door–immediately, all he sees is red. Rain plasters Callum's dark hair to his forehead, and Kimiko stands behind him, equally just as soaked but oddly less bothered than he seems to be. "Slingby," Callum greets. "May we come in?"

Without an answer, and without warning, Eric launches himself forward, fist aimed squarely for Callum's face. The first punch, fuelled by pure, unadulterated hatred, lands with a sickening crack.

"Eric!" he hears Alan and Grell's surprised cry from behind him.

Callum reels back from the sudden impact, his head snapping to the side. His glasses fly off, skittering across the wet porch and landing in a puddle, a trickle of blood slipping from the corner of his lip. He blinks, clearly stunned until he seems to know why he's at the end of Eric's wrath. "Ah." His smile is anything but kind. "You know."

The rain is coming down harder now, Eric throwing another wild jab. Callum dodges, his movements precise, even without his glasses. He retaliates with a sharp, swift kick to Eric's shin, forcing Eric to stumble back a step. "Damn right I do, you fucker! You killed them!" Eric yells at him, wiping rain from his eyes.

He lunges again, a blur of motion, trying to overwhelm Callum with sheer aggression. Callum, however, is no stranger to fights despite usually being the one to put an end to them rather than endure them. He parries Eric's blow, beginning a deadly dance, one fuelled by Eric's deep-seated hatred for the man in front of him.

The fight spills off the porch and onto the waterlogged lawn. Eric uses his broad shoulders and natural strength, aiming for powerful, sweeping blows designed to overwhelm, eventually forcing Callum to slip on the wet grass. He lands hard, grunting as muddy water soaks through his suit. His missing glasses put him at a disadvantage, forcing him to rely more on instinct than precise calculations. He scrambles back to his feet, wiping mud from his face with the back of his hand. "Will you give me a chance to explain what really happened?!" he shouts, voice barely audible over the drumming rain.

"There's nothin’ you need to explain!"

Callum grits his teeth, seeing how Eric really isn't going to listen to him. "Fine." He lunges unexpectedly, catching Eric off guard. Callum's fists, though not as powerful as Eric's, are incredibly fast and accurate. He aims quick, stinging jabs to the body, designed to chip away at Eric's resilience. One connects solidly with Eric's ribs, eliciting a sharp gasp.

Eric growls, recovering from Callum's attack to throw his own series of heavy punches, forcing Callum to duck and weave, the sound of rain splattering a constant soundtrack to their fight. Eric's movements are less refined, more driven by anger than any actual thought. He manages to catch Callum with a glancing blow to the temple, making Callum stumble back against a rose bush. Thorns snag at Callum's clothes, and a few prick his skin, drawing a hiss of annoyance.

Callum tears himself free, and he moves with renewed, almost chilling, purpose. His fighting is almost dance-like, a stark contrast to Eric's wild aggression. He dodges another of Eric's lunges, stepping inside Eric's guard and delivering a swift, open-palmed strike to Eric's ear. The blow isn't meant to knock him out, but to disorient, and it works. Eric staggers, shaking his head.

Before Eric can fully recover, Callum capitalises. He moves quickly, circling around Eric, who is still trying to clear his head. Callum then delivers a sharp, unexpected kick to the back of Eric's knee, sending the larger reaper crashing to one knee in the mud, a splash erupting around him. Callum stands over him, breathing heavily, his chest rising and falling with exertion, rain streaming down his face.

But Eric is far from defeated. With a primal roar, he surges upward, catching Callum by surprise. Eric's massive hand clamps onto Callum's soaked lapels, hauling the taller reaper down into the mud beside him. Eric lands a brutal, arcing punch that connects squarely with Callum's jaw. The sound is sickening, and Callum's head snaps back, his eyes momentarily unfocused before collapsing to the rain-soaked, muddy ground.

That's when Eric stands over Callum's prone body, wiping blood from his bloody bottom lip with the back of his glove, and summons his death scythe. His own chest is heaving, his rage still bubbling up inside him, wanting, needing, the revenge he could never have gotten as a child. The blood of his parents stains the walls of the only home he remembers, so he'll stain the yard with Callum's.

With another roar that comes directly from his wounded soul, Eric brings his scythe down, meaning to slice Callum directly lengthwise down his entire body, but his scythe doesn't connect. Suddenly, his weapon is blocked by another, and slowly, as his emotions start to settle, he recognises the weapon belonging to Alan. Sure enough, when he really looks at what he was about to do, he realises Alan put himself between him and Callum, his own scythe preventing Eric from killing the other man. "Eric," Alan's voice is incredibly soft despite the stern look on his face. "You're going to take this too far."

Eric snarls. "He killed them, Alan. Isn't this justice?!"

"No," Alan continues in that calm voice that he only ever uses with Eric. "I know you're angry, anyone would be, but if you kill him, you'll kill William's father, and you don't want to do to him what Callum did to you, do you?" Eric wants nothing more than to shove Alan aside and do what he wants, but as he stares into his husband's eyes, he starts to realise that maybe Alan has a point. He and William may have been the furthest thing from friends, but he isn't sure how he'd be able to look Spears in the eyes if he took the life of his father.

It's with that realisation that Eric drops his scythe, letting it materialise away as he drops into Alan's welcoming embrace. He drops them both to their knees, his large, strong arms enfolding around Alan, hugging him tightly to his chest while he buries his face in the crook of Alan's neck. He feels one of Alan's hands on his back while the other presses gently, but firmly, on the back of his head, keeping him securely against him. "I'm sorry," is all he can say.

"Don't apologise," Alan assures, then lowers his voice, "the git deserved a good punch in the face, I'll give you that."

Eric huffs a very quiet laugh. "Aye. He did."

"Are you two finished or will one of you help me drag Callum inside? I just fixed my nails!"

Eric lifts his head and Alan looks over his shoulder as Grell stands at Callum's side, emphatically gesturing to the unconscious reaper. Eric takes a deep breath and reluctantly pulls away from Alan, walking over to Grell. "Fine. Let's get him inside."

Alan oversees Callum's transport, wincing inwardly when his muddy body is plopped unceremoniously on the couch. At the very least, it's nice to know he isn't dead, though when he wakes up, he might wish he was. "I'm a little surprised," Alan comments, turning to Kimiko who stands by the door the entire time, hardly even reacting when Eric first strikes Callum. "Are you not at all worried for your husband?"

Kimiko looks at him, as if just realising where she is. Realising that she should be reacting to what's just happened. Immediately, she gasps, rushing to Callum's side and stroking back his wet bangs. "Of course I'm worried!" she snaps at Alan, as if he had the audacity to question her. "My thoughts are simply…distracted for a moment," she admits quietly, continuing to stroke back Callum's hair. "We found William and your friend."

"What?!" the three of them ask in unison. "Are they alright? Where are they?!" Alan continues, frantic.

Kimiko looks at him again, a pain in her expression. "They wanted to stay."

Eric slowly blinks. "Stay…? They wanted to, stay?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

She shakes her head, pressing a kiss to Callum's temple. "William would not tell us."

Grell takes a deep breath, hugging herself. "Stubborn bastard," she frowns. "I…I hope they'll find a way to come home soon."

Eric puts his hand on her shoulder. "Somethin’ tells me they will, Grell.” he looks back out the window, watching the rain, “somethin’ also tells me, they’re not gonna come back the same lads as we knew them.”

Chapter Text

Ronald’s wake-up call comes as a graceless tumble from the couch. The moment he hits the floor, he jolts upright, bleary-eyed and confused, his head whipping around as if expecting danger. Then he exhales a long, ragged sigh. “Ugh…”

“Are you alright?” William’s voice, gravelled from sleep, draws Ronald’s attention. The older reaper is propped up on his elbows, clearly roused by the fall.

Ronald chuckles sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, I’m okay,” he says, offering a crooked smile as he pushes himself to his feet and dusts off his trousers. “Just gave myself a fright.”

“Make that two of us,” William replies, pushing himself to sit up a little straighter with a slight wince. “But I suppose a corpse is not the best bed, is it?”

Ronald cringes at the wording, giving William a rare, serious look. “You’re not a corpse, Will.”

William sighs. “I suppose in this town, it’d be best to avoid such comparisons. You’re right.”

Ronald looks William over, then sits on the couch beside him. “How’s your back?”

William rolls his shoulders carefully, then bends slightly to the left and then to the right, testing his range of movement. “I’m not in tremendous pain.”

“Think you’re going to be okay for today?”

William takes a quiet moment to think. “I may require a few extra moments of rest before getting up, especially considering I no longer have the painkillers I need.”

“About those, actually,” Ronald begins, shifting to face William fully. “Your dad said they were the only ones who could get your prescription for you. I thought they were just regular painkillers?”

William hums. “As did I. But no. It seems the wound on my back was laced with a type of poison. My medication helps to ease the symptoms.”

Ronald’s eyes widen. “Shit…you’re not gonna–?”

“I won’t die,” William says quickly. “Oliver asked me the same thing.”

“Oliver.” Ronald smirks, leaning back on his arms. “Guess that kid was a real blessin’ in disguise, huh?”

“I believe so.” William looks down at his arms. “He was the one who provided the equipment I used to take care of such wounds.”

Ronald gently takes William’s hand, his gaze travelling up and down the man's arm. “This looks really bad.” He glances back at William’s face. “What happened to your shirt? I mean, short sleeves aren’t ever what I expected to see you in, but they look good,” he jokes, trying to lighten the mood.

William sighs. “The sleeves were nearly torn to ribbons when I was thrown from the town hall, and I figured the strips of fabric would eventually get in the way, so I cut them off. My blazer, on the other hand, I tossed completely. It was beyond saving.”

Ronald winces in sympathy. “Damn…” He squeezes William’s hand a little tighter. He doesn’t like it when they’re separated; doesn’t like seeing the man he’s beginning to really care for continuously getting hurt. “I’m…I’m just really glad you’re back. I just wish there was a way for us to know when we’re swapped out.”

William curls his fingers around Ronald’s, holding his hand close. “As do I, because clearly, death does not truly affect them.”

“The most I know is that the fake yous don’t seem to feel the pain you do. Like your back, or hand, or even your arms now.”

“They don’t?”

“So far, I don’t think so.” He frowns. “I shoulda picked up on that sooner.”

“We didn’t even know it could be possible, Ronald.” William reaches forward, cupping Ronald’s cheek. “You’ve picked up on it now. You know what to look for if there is a next time.”

Ronald swallows, pressing William’s hand closer to his skin. “Yeah. I do.”

William keeps his hand on Ronald’s cheek for a moment longer before slowly removing it, finding the will to ask what has bothered him since he read it on the medical chart. “May I ask you something? Something I am aware you may not be able to answer?”

Ronald tilts his head. “Uh, sure. I can try.”

“Is there anything else you can tell me about your family?”

Ronald stares at him before looking away, almost ashamed. “Well, remember I told you Ronan gave me Mum’s journal?”

William narrows his eyes. “What did you find?”

Ronald closes his eyes, biting his lower lip. Voicing this to a man who openly hates demons more than anything else will most likely lead to William wanting nothing to do with him. “Well, Mum, she kinda…” He leans down, picks up the journal, and offers it to William. “She made a deal with a demon.”

William leans towards the coffee table to retrieve his glasses, placing them on his nose before taking the journal and flipping it open. It doesn’t take him long to find the entry Ronald’s talking about. While a part of him feels vindicated that calling Rebecca a demon wasn’t far off, the larger part of him knows the implications. Ronan was the blessed one, he also carried demon toxin, and now, knowing Rebecca made a contract with a demon, he puts the pieces together. “Ronan is half-demon,” he concludes.

Ronald swallows. “You really think he is?”

“I do.” He snaps the journal shut. “There’s far too much evidence to ignore.” He tells Ronald the points he excluded yesterday, the parts he hadn’t thought prevalent to their situation, which they now, clearly are.

Ronald blinks slowly, letting the information sink in. “Half-demon…” He looks down at his own hands, then back at William. “You…do you think that means I…am, too?”

“You are not,” William immediately reassures him. “You don’t have that stench about you.”

Ronald frowns. “Clearly Ronan didn’t either.”

William is ready to brush off Ronald’s concerns, to roll his eyes and tell him there’s not a chance, but then he sees the look of horror in Ronald’s eyes at the very idea he could be half of what reapers are born to despise. So, he takes a softer approach. He sets the journal down and manoeuvres carefully, avoiding any unnecessary movement of his back, before taking Ronald into his arms. Immediately, Ronald presses his face into William’s chest, gripping his shirt. “You are a reaper, Ronald,” William promises, holding him a bit tighter. “And if it turns out there is the blood of another that runs through your veins, then we’ll work through it. But I promise you right now, nothing will change.”

Ronald takes a shaky breath. “You mean that? You wouldn’t, I dunno, turn me in to the Board or somethin’?”

“Of course not.”

“What about when we go back and…” He swallows again. “And this thing between us stops?”

William doesn’t want to think about that future, but Ronald has a point. When they return, if Ronald did possess demon blood, he would not be protecting his lover, no. He’d be protecting his subordinate, and their rules clearly stated there was to be no demonic activity in their realm. Still, that did not mean his heart would ache any less if he chose to betray him. “Nothing would change,” he assures the younger reaper. “Nothing.”

Ronald looks up at him, open surprise on his face. “You really wouldn’t turn me in?”

“No.” He offers Ronald a soft, small smile, reaching up with his good hand to cup Ronald’s cheek again. “A name does not make a family, nor does blood define what you are.”

Ronald slowly offers a small smile of his own. “It’s weird hearin’ the superior you’re so used to bein’ so serious all the time, talk like this.”

“Well, as I said before, it’s a privilege only given to those I deem worthy.”

“Still surprised I’m someone worthy of that.”

“You're worthy of so many good things, Ronald.”

This time, it’s Ronald who reaches up, gently touching William’s face with his fingertips, brushing an unruly strand of hair from his forehead. “Will, I’m worthy of you, and that’s, honestly, all that matters to me right now.”

William is taken aback by how genuinely Ronald says it—he sees the earnest look in his eyes, so he pulls Ronald back into an even tighter embrace. It may not be what he expected to hear, but it’s what he needed to, and a new resolve takes hold in his heart. The revenge he was set to seek changes course, becoming something more protective. He will see this town destroyed, see Rebecca and this demon she made a deal with, dead at his feet, so he may free Ronald from whatever torment Haven will continue to bring upon him.

Eventually, Ronald slowly pulls away, smiling warmly at William, even if the smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Thanks, Will.”

William nods in turn, his good hand resting on Ronald’s arm. “I meant every word.”

“I know you did.” He takes a deep breath, then slowly exhales, forcing himself under control. “Right, how’s your back now? Think you’re ready to go?”

William tests his back again, pleasantly surprised by how much the pain has subsided. “I believe so.” He pushes himself up, wincing slightly at the twinge of pain that spikes up his back as he stands straight. “It’s manageable, at the very least.”

Ronald stands beside him, looking him over to be sure he isn’t lying about his condition. Satisfied, he meets William’s eyes. “So, what’s the next plan of action?”

“Well, I believe it’s finding the two other keys for the organ,” William replies, reaching into his pocket to show Ronald the one he has already claimed. “What I don’t know is what song we’re meant to play once it’s whole.”

Ronald takes the pipe organ key, frowning at the bloody fingerprint staining the ivory gloss. “Where’d you find it?”

“In four-o-seven, under the bed in a briefcase.”

Ronald raises an eyebrow. “Under the bed? Weird. When I looked under the same bed, I found a suitcase with a class photo inside.”

William hums. “That is strange. Perhaps things reset when we’re apart.”

“I mean, other things change when we’re split up, doesn’t it? So, that doesn’t sound too far-fetched.”

William sighs, rubbing his temples. “I suppose not.” He takes the key back from Ronald, pocketing it once again. “However, I am pleased to be back in this house, because one of these keys might be here.”

“What makes you think so?”

“It was a place of importance, as it’s where I found the principal’s key. A part of me wonders if we return to that room, one of the pipe organ keys may be there as well.”

“Then lead the way, Will. Just, don’t push yourself too much anymore, okay? Without your meds, we got nothin’ that’ll help that pain as quick as the painkillers did.”

William clicks his tongue, clearly disgruntled. “I suppose,” he replies with a frown. “Had my parents not decided to move here, I would not have the injury in the first place.”

Ronald touches his arm. “How are you feelin’ about that? Can’t imagine it’s easy to learn that they were, y’know, kinda okay with offerin’ you up to some demon before they decided to run.”

William pockets the key, his eyes searching the ground as if it holds the answers. “I cannot answer that,” he replies. “A part of me wants to say betrayal, but another part of me is almost relieved. Their treatment of me, their contempt, was because they most likely did not expect to raise a son beyond ten years. At least, I’m certain my father didn’t. My mother was a little kinder to me.”

Ronald squeezes his arm gently. “Well, maybe they didn’t expect it, but I’m sure as hell glad they did.”

William places his hand over Ronald’s. “Thank you.” He squeezes back. “Now, enough of this moping about. We have a mission to accomplish. Standing around discussing feelings will not get us anywhere.”

Ronald nods, removing his hand. “Now that sounds like the Mr. Spears I know! So like I said, lead the way, boss. I’m right behind ya.”

“Then let’s go. This way.”

Ronald follows William towards the staircase, his gaze drifting across the shadowed walls and dust-laden furniture. Knowing Eric once lived here, that his family rushed to leave before they were ‘punished’ and still were, leaves a bad taste in his mouth. He swallows. “How do ya think Eric’ll feel, knowin’ we know about his family?”

William doesn’t pause. “I imagine very little would change.”

“Really? ‘Cuz if him, Alan, and Grell knew about my past…I dunno. I think I’d be searchin’ for pity in everything they did. Like, ‘Your life was shite, here’s a coffee,’ or something.”

“A coffee?” William glances back at him.

“It’s the best I could think of right now. And let’s be honest, a coffee sounds reeeeally good right about now.”

“Truthfully, yes, it does.” William places his hand on the staircase railing, fingers curling against the dusty wood. “And I doubt they’d give you coffee out of pity. At the very least, you’d receive chocolate.”

Ronald snorts. “Yeah? You a chocolate kinda guy?”

“I am, as a matter of fact.”

Ronald grins. “Are you? Whaddya fancy?”

“Any, really, but I’m particularly fond of orange chocolate.”

“Really?” He laughs. “Somehow, that tracks. Even when you’re indulging, you’re still trying to be healthy.”

“Well, considering I used to sit for most of the day, I do attempt to maintain a balanced diet.”

“Oh, and it shows.” It takes both men a moment to register what Ronald just said. William glances back at him, a brow raised. Ronald shrugs and grins cheekily. “What?”

“A few days ago, you were flustered just for complimenting Slingby’s physique.”

“He was butt-arse naked! That’s different!”

William wisely chooses not to respond as they enter the room with the shattered mirror. “This is where I found the key.”

Ronald eyes the broken glass. “Wow, Will, did you smash the mirror to get it?”

“It shattered on its own. After a rather…unsettling sequence.”

“Yeah, sounds about right.” Ronald approaches the fragments cautiously, scanning the shards. “So, the next piece is gonna be somewhere in here, just maybe different now that I’m with you.”

William crosses his arms. “If how I found the first key is any indication, then correct. Do you notice anything strange about the mirror?”

“Hmm…” Ronald circles to the back. “Other than the obvious? No–wait…” He freezes, eyes widening. “What’s this stuff?”

William rounds the mirror himself, staring at the same tar-like substance he’d seen before. “I wish I could tell you. It was here the first time I encountered the mirror, but I have no idea what it is.”

Ronald prods the substance. To both his and William’s surprise, it isn’t sticky, nor does it move much. “Sorta feels like slime,” he comments, before reaching for the corner of the frame. He sticks his tongue out as he works his fingers underneath the tar. Eventually, he gets a good hold and starts pulling it away from the frame. Slowly, another mirror is revealed behind it, and the tar disintegrates once it’s fully removed. “Huh. It’s pretty clean, considering what was on it.”

“Indeed,” William agrees, scrutinising his reflection. It behaves like a normal mirror, mimicking his movements perfectly. To be sure, he raises a hand and waves. His reflection copies him exactly.

Ronald smirks. “Yep. That’s you, Will. You do remember how mirrors work, right?”

William shoots him a flat look. “The other mirror…I’m now convinced it wasn’t a real mirror at all. My reflection moved independently.”

Ronald blinks, then whistles. “Ah. Yeah. Fair then.” Ronald peers into the new mirror again, his eyes narrowing. “Wait…look.” He points. “Behind us, in the mirror, there’s open space. No junk. But turn around–” They both look back. In reality, piles of boxes and broken furniture obscure that section of the wall. In the reflection, however, it’s clear: a crawlspace is hidden behind the mess.

William nods. “I see it.”

He approaches the clutter, reaching for a box, but Ronald stops him with a firm hand on his arm. “Hey, let me. I don’t want you straining your back again.”

William’s brow twitches. “Knox, I assure you, I’m perfectly capable.”

“You sure?”

“Yes. I am.”

Ronald raises his hands in surrender. “Alright, alright. I’m just worried, that’s all. Remember, no painkillers.”

William sighs, exasperated. “Ronald, I am fine. I appreciate the concern, but please, I know my limits. Lifting a bloody box isn’t beyond them.”

“Okay, okay,” Ronald says, nudging William’s shoulder with a playful grin. “I just wanna make sure I’m not draggin’ your limp body outta here.”

William opens his mouth to deliver a sharp retort but catches the gleam in Ronald’s eyes. He reigns himself in. “I’d argue you wouldn’t have the strength,” William says instead, “but seeing as you managed to help me stand and walk just yesterday, perhaps I’d be wrong.”

“Oh yeah! You’re taller, but lighter. Honestly, I think my scythe weighs more.”

“I sincerely doubt that.” William gestures towards the pile. “Shall we get on with it?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Together, they begin shifting boxes and overturned furniture. After some effort, the crawlspace comes into view. Ronald drops to his knees, squinting into the pitch-black opening. “It’s dark. Can’t see where it leads.”

“Can you reach anything?”

He extends his arm into the gap, feeling around, but pulls back empty-handed. “Nothing. Feels like it goes into another room.” He tilts his head. “Y’know…I might be able to squeeze through.”

“At the risk of getting yourself horribly stuck? I’d rather not.”

“Then what do you suggest we do?”

William hesitates. “I…don’t know.”

“Then the only way forward is, well, forward,” Ronald says, casting a glance over his shoulder at William. “Ladies first?” he grins.

William adjusts his glasses in place of rolling his eyes. “How gallant of you.”

“I try,” Ronald replies with a wink. “But seriously, I’ll go first. With your back and all, probably not a good idea in case…well, I dunno, but I’ll take the lead on this.”

“I can manage,” William insists, but the tightness in his jaw betrays him.

“Yeah, no. I’m going first. Just stay close behind me, yeah?” He doesn’t like it, but he knows Ronald is right. With a reluctant wave of his arm, he allows Ronald to take the lead.

The crawlspace is claustrophobic, forcing them into a crouch. The air is stale and thick with dust, and cobwebs cling to their faces like ghostly threads. “You know, I don’t think I’m gonna get used to the dark being dark here,” Ronald murmurs, his voice low. “Like, I like having our night vision.”

“I must agree. I felt far less vulnerable being able to see ahead,” William replies, swatting away a cobweb.

“Right? Like, I know I agreed to stay with you through all this, but bloody hell, Will, I’m gonna be so glad to get home.”

“That makes two of us.” William sighs, the darkness feeding a quiet dread that something monstrous might be lying in wait at the end of this tunnel.

Thankfully, that’s not the case.

Unfortunately, something else is.

It happens in an instant. One moment, Ronald’s weight is secure on the floorboards—the next, they give way. He vanishes with a shout, crashing into the space below. “Knox!” William calls instinctively, peering down through the newly formed hole. “Are you alright?”

Ronald groans, pushing himself onto his hands and knees. “Yep...yeeeep, I’m okay,” he grunts, brushing debris from his sleeves.

William lowers himself carefully, landing with as much grace as the cramped drop allowed, before extending a hand to Ronald. “Perhaps it was wise you went first after all.”

Ronald rolls his eyes but takes the offered hand. “Yeah, you’re welcome.”

William affectionately brushes dust and splinters from Ronald’s hair. “Thank you, Ronald.”

Ronald is about to bask in the tenderness when he notices his surroundings. First, it’s the warm, flickering candlelight that casts long, stretching shadows across the walls of the cramped room. Then, the altar. “Woah…Will, look at that.”

William turns, his gaze falling on the strange structure. Candles are arranged in ascending tiers, their wax pooling at the base and dripping to the floor. At the very top stands a statue: a smaller replica of the same commanding figure Ronald saw in the park. “What is this?” William mutters, approaching it.

“That’s the demon that started all this,” Ronald replies. “At least, I’m pretty sure it is.”

William studies it, fingers resting thoughtfully on his chin. “It’s quite…commanding.”

“Innit? Gives me the creeps. Especially the eyes.”

“I see why. They feel–”

“Alive?”

“Alive, quite right.” He moves slowly around the altar, inspecting the room. “If we fell through the crawlspace on the first floor, then this must be on the ground floor. I doubt you dropped all the way to the cellar.”

“I mean, coulda. Hurt enough.”

William hums, still doubtful. “Why would this be in the Slingby home? If they fled, if they refused to sacrifice Eric, why have a shrine dedicated to that blasted demon?”

Ronald folds his arms, thoughtful. “Y’know, I wonder if these houses were built to accommodate people or if they were pre-built.”

William glances at him. “You think they didn’t know this was here?”

“Yeah. I mean, it’s not exactly an open plan.”

“Hm, you may have a point.”

“Hey, I have some good ideas,” he smirks, before pressing along the wall. “And my next one is findin’ a way outta here.”

William lets Ronald search while his own attention is drawn back to the statue. There’s something about it, something beyond the stone. He notices its base doesn’t seem fused to the altar. Cautiously, he wraps his hand around the statue and slowly lifts.

A click.

He freezes, waiting for something to drop on his head, stab him, or for the floor to fall out from under him. Instead, he leans back over the altar. Sure enough, a hatch has opened up underneath the statue, and something glints at the bottom. Holding his breath, he reaches down, praying nothing clamps around his arm. Thankfully, he retrieves the item without a problem. “Well, it may not be a key in the traditional sense, but I have indeed found one,” William tells Ronald, staring at another pipe organ key in his palm.

Ronald’s face lights up. “Brilliant! So, we’re just missing one now?”

“We are. Though, where to look for the final one, I’ve no idea,” William replies, returning the statue to its place.

“Hm…” Ronald hums, tapping his foot. “What about…oh! What about the school?”

“The school…” William echoes. He hadn’t considered it, but Ronald could be right. It’s one of the only other locations that holds significance for both of them. “It’s worth a try, at the very least.”

“Ha-ha! Now we’re gettin’ the ball rollin’!” Yet as he turns, he’s faced with the previous dilemma. “Riiiight. Once we get outta here, that is.”

“If this room was built before the Slingbys moved in, as you suggested, then I doubt they made it easy to access, but I also doubt they made it with no exit. I see no skeletons of poor workers stuck in this room with us.”

Ronald shivers. “If all of a sudden we’re attacked by a horde of angry corpses, that’s on you.” He steps back and looks up at the hole he collapsed through. “Doubt we could jump back up through there. If it didn’t hold my weight then, it definitely won’t with the pressure we’ll land on it with.”

William looks up at the hole as well. “If we even have the ability to make it up there. As far as I am aware, humans do not possess the ability to jump that high.”

Ronald pouts. “Right. Yeah.” He turns back to the wall. “I wonder if we could charge through it then.”

“And dislocate your shoulder? Or give yourself a concussion? That’s a horrible idea, Ronald. The walls don’t look even remotely thin enough to crash through.”

“You think?”

“It’s brick, Knox. Don’t you dare even try.”

“Okay, okay,” Ronald concedes, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “No smashing into bricks. Message received, boss.” William doesn’t reply, but the look he gives speaks volumes. Ronald exhales and leans against the cold wall. “I just hate standin’ here. Feels like this place is watchin’ us.” His eyes settle back on the statue. “Or, more like, he’s watchin’ us.”

William glances at the statue, feeling the same. “Then we best be quick to find a way out,” he says, examining each brick in excruciating detail. “I’m positive they would have built an exit.”

Ronald scratches the back of his neck. “So we’re lookin’ for some kinda button?”

“That would be my guess. A lever would be far too obvious.”

Ronald turns and helps William, pressing each brick at least twice before moving on. With every minute they fail to find an exit, the more claustrophobic he feels. The statue’s eyes seem to burn into them, as if at any second the demon himself will come to collect two souls that got away, to rip them apart, to—

Click .

They both pause. Ronald’s hand rests on a slightly raised portion of the wall. The brick next to it is sticking out just as much, so he carefully presses that one next.

Another click.

The bricks become flush with the wall. The sound of ancient gears grinding is heard to the sides, and dust filters down as a section of the wall slides open, revealing a dimly lit room beyond. Ronald practically throws himself out of the room, greedily sucking in what little fresh air there is. “Ronald?” William asks, as the panel closes behind him, disappearing into the surrounding brickwork.

Ronald waves a hand dismissively as he slowly pulls himself together. “Sorry, Will,” he eventually says after one more deep breath. “Was just really psyching myself out in there.”

“And you’ll be alright?”

“Oh yeah. Yeah. Just needed a moment.”

William places a hand on Ronald’s shoulder before taking in their new surroundings. To his surprise, it appears to be the basement, with the only light filtering through a single, grimy window near the ceiling. He casts a look at Ronald, surprised all over again that the younger reaper really did collapse two storeys. “You must be bruised,” he remarks, a touch of irritation in his voice that Ronald appears to have walked away unscathed while his own injuries are so prevalent.

Ronald laughs. “What can I say, Will? I’m young. We bounce back quick.” He winks, tugging at his invisible lapels. “And that doesn’t just apply to injuries.”

William rolls his eyes. “Honestly.” He squeezes Ronald’s shoulder, then approaches the old, rickety-looking wooden stairs. “Now, our next priority is the school. The sooner we get there and find the final key, the better.”

“What do you think the pipe organ even does?” Ronald asks, following him up the creaking staircase.

“I can’t say for certain. All I know is what Oliver told me, and all he said was that it was played during the rituals and that putting it back together would be worth it.”

“Worth it, huh? Do you think if someone, let’s say, generally morally good, plays it, it might release the spirits?” Ronald asks, following William through the door at the top of the stairs and into the worn-down kitchen.

William hums, unconvinced. “That would be far too simple. If this demon is still lingering, which I have no doubt a part of him is, he’ll want to keep those souls as close as possible.”

“Damn…but I guess that makes sense.” He leans against the doorframe. “And this demon guy. What kinda demon do you think he is? Think he’s one of the standard ones, or somethin’ stronger?”

“I presume he’s the same kind of low-life as the demon butler, but for a reaper to willingly forge a contract with him, it would have to be immensely persuasive, considering reapers are normally born with the mental fortitude to resist a demon’s lure.”

“Well, you read that page from her journal. She was lookin’ for revenge against the Board, and the demon was offerin’ it.”

“I suppose that’s also true. He wouldn’t need to be as persuasive if she believed she had good reason to. Regardless, it’s still a bloody demon and deserves its eventual end.” Ronald looks down at his hand again, William’s declaration about Ronan still stuck in his head. Noticing this, William takes that hand and holds it against his chest. “Enough.”

Ronald swallows. “But…what if I am?”

“I told you, it doesn’t matter. If you are, then that will be something we’ll come to terms with. If you’re not, then life continues on as normal. Either way, you are still Ronald, and nothing will change that.”

Ronald looks at their joined hands, words stuck in his throat. Hearing William say such things, so plainly and consistently, is finally starting to add up. Coming from a home that demanded he be one way, only to hear William say that no matter the outcome—even if he was part demon—he would still always be Ronald, makes his heart stutter. “Will…”

“I mean every single word, Ronald,” William assures him, stroking back his fringe. “Your past, your blood, your family—nothing changes who you are. Rather, it shaped you into this wonderful young man who chose to be the better person, despite what life threw at him.” He cups Ronald’s jaw, resting his thumb on his lower lip, feeling it quiver. “I am proud of you, Ronald. Proud of who you are. I may have told you that you’ve done well as of late, but truth be told, you’ve always done well. Yes, there are moments where you’ve slipped up, but for a majority of the time, you’re a reaper I can rely on. You deserve to give yourself more credit, and I do not want you fretting over something that I doubt is even true.” He smooths his thumb over Ronald’s lip. “And if by some chance it is, that will not change my opinion of you, nor will it change those that care for you. I promise you that.”

Ronald lets out a choked laugh. “Where was this speech when I was a kid? Coulda really used the confidence boost.”

“I apologise it’s come years too late, but I’d rather you hear it now than not at all.”

Ronald takes a deep breath, nodding carefully so as not to dislodge William’s hand. “Thanks, Will,” he says, putting his hand on William’s forearm. “Really. Thanks.”

William leans in, placing a gentle kiss on Ronald’s cheek before pulling back. He needs to say nothing else; Ronald sees the unspoken words in his eyes. He finally lowers his hand. “Now, the school.”

“Wait.” Ronald grabs his wrist. “I wanna tell you somethin’ too.”

William raises an eyebrow, sparing a glance at Ronald’s hand. “What is it?”

“You’re not as bad a partner as you think you are.”

William winces. “You would change your mind quickly if you had to deal with me for as long as Alan did.”

Ronald’s grip tightens slightly. “No. I wouldn’t.”

William eyes him up and down. “How are you so sure?”

Ronald flashes him a smile. “Because I just know.”

A brief pause hangs between them until, finally, as if letting himself believe the words, William offers a small, brief smile of his own. “Alright. For now, I’ll trust you.”

“Good.” Ronald’s fingers linger on his wrist for a moment longer before finally letting go. “Now, school?”

“Yes. Let’s get going.”

Ronald follows William through the kitchen and back to the sitting room. As they move, his gaze drifts, drinking in the remnants of the Slingby home. The walls, the furniture, the items left stuck in time—all of it belonged to a family he was close to. “Actually, Will. Can we stay a second longer?”

William pauses. “Why?”

“I just…wanna see if I can find something for Eric.”

William’s expression becomes more solemn. He folds his arms behind his back and nods. “Alright. I’ll be here when you’re ready to leave.”

“Thanks,” he says with an appreciative smile. He spends the next few minutes wandering the house, quietly taking in the remnants of a life once lived. Faded wallpaper peels from the corners; a cracked teacup sits abandoned on the kitchen table. It's all frozen in time, haunted not just by spirits, but by absence.

He stops when he notices a photograph on a shelf. A silver frame, tarnished but elegant, catches the light. He picks it up, running his thumb along the delicate filigree carved into its edges. Inside is the only photo that hasn’t been vandalised: Mr and Mrs Slingby with a young Eric standing between them, dressed smartly in a school uniform. A first day, maybe. A moment that once mattered.

Ronald turns the frame over, pops open the back, and slides the photo out. He folds it with care, tucking it into his trouser pocket. The empty frame, he returns gently to the shelf.

When he rejoins William, his voice is soft. “Okay. I think I’m ready now. Do we know where to look first in the school?”

“Not a single idea,” William replies as they walk out of the house. “But I imagine we’ll find something to guide us.”

“I can help.”

Ronald nearly jumps out of his skin, and William turns sharply. Oliver stands in the doorway, just as small and timid as the first time they saw him. “Bloody hells, has no one told you it’s not nice to sneak up on people?!” Ronald exclaims, a hand over his chest.

“Sorry…” Oliver murmurs, shrinking in on himself.

William carefully approaches the boy, kneeling down and looking him over for any sign of injury. “Where did you go? Are you alright? You disappeared without a word.”

“I said I was tired.”

“And when you’re tired, where do you go?” Ronald hears the worry in William’s voice and watches the older reaper closely, remembering his declaration of paternal instincts towards the boy. “I don’t like the idea of you vanishing like you did.”

“I went home.”

William frowns. “And where’s home, Oliver?”

Oliver glances at Ronald, then swallows hard. “I’m not supposed to say.”

“Why not?”

“Because then Ronan will get mad.”

William exchanges a glance with Ronald, then turns back to Oliver. “Surely you can tell someone. If not me, then maybe your brother?”

But Oliver just shakes his head. “I can’t…”

William exhales through his nose but doesn't let Oliver see the true extent of his frustration. “Alright. We’ll leave it at that for now. Instead, you said you could help us find the last pipe organ piece?”

Oliver nods slowly. “I know where it is.”

“That’s excellent news. Can you tell us?”

Once again, the boy looks at Ronald and seems to cower. “No…”

Ronald isn’t so good at concealing his own frustration. “You just said you could help us.”

William pulls Oliver’s attention back to him. “It’s alright. If you can’t tell us exactly where it is, then can you tell us in a more general sense? A certain room, perhaps? Or what floor it’s on?”

Oliver nods at that. “Yeah.”

William stands up and offers his good hand to Oliver. “Then let’s go, and you can direct us when we get there, alright?”

Oliver slips his small hand into William’s, nodding again, but with more determination this time. “Okay.”

Ronald watches for a moment as William walks with Oliver, before quickly catching up to walk beside the older reaper. “You sure about this, Will?” he whispers, not wanting to scare Oliver away.

“We don’t really have any other options,” William whispers in turn. “This place makes sure we don’t.”

“Shouldn’t that raise some red flags then?!”

“Perhaps. But then you tell me what we’re supposed to do.”

Ronald hooks his elbow with William’s. “Well, I don’t got that answer, but just know, I don’t like it.”

“Ronan’s scared too,” says Oliver. “He’s scared just like me. He’s scared you’ll leave him.”

Ronald frowns, then leans forward just enough to talk to Oliver. “Hey, we know a few things about being scared, so…so, we won’t leave anyone behind, okay? We’re gonna help you. All of you.” He looks up at William, who offers him a reaffirming nod.

The wind whistles low, brushing through the ghost town as they head towards the school, and towards whatever new horrors are laying in wait for them.

Chapter Text

“Well, you managed to knock him out cold for the entire night.” Alan comments, joining Eric out on the front porch. The morning air is cool and the slight breeze carries the lingering scent of damp earth from last night’s rain. “And he’s still not awake.”

Eric looks at the hand that did it, curling and uncurling his fingers, still feeling the rage thrumming through his veins. “Wasn’t aimin’ to do tha’, but won’t say I’m sorry for it.” It's almost casual how he says it, proving to Alan that there was no guilt he was feeling.

“I’d be surprised if you did.” Alan sighs, leaning his head on Eric’s shoulder. The warmth of his partner's body is welcomed on this cool morning.

Eric slips his arm around Alan’s waist, his hand gently rubbing up and down Alan’s side. The sun just barely peeks out from the clouds, casting a warm glow over the landscape before them. “I…I woulda regretted it if you didn’t stop me though.” Eric eventually confesses, “so, thanks Al. For making it easier to face Spears again.”

Alan smiles, his eyes closed. “You’ve done the same for me before.” a pause, “well, tried.”

Eric snorts, hugging Alan tighter to him. “Aye. Yer a force that words can’t stop.” he shrugs his free shoulder, “at least it was only a demon ye tried runnin’ yer scythe through.”

“Tried, key word.” he opens his eyes, silently watching the sunrise, but as the silence persists, the more his mind starts wandering, a frown slowly etching its way onto his face. “I can’t believe they chose to stay.”

“Neither can I, but I’m sure the lads have a good reason to.”

“What reason could possibly be good in that place?” he lifts his head, rubbing his hands together, “Haven sounds like its own kind of hell.”

Eric sighs after a moment, his hand pressing a little harder against Alan’s ribs. “I dunno hen. But we know Spears and we know Ron. They got each other’s blindspots covered if things go to shite.”

“Even without scythes?”

“Aye.” Eric nods; a sharp, quick movement of his head. “I believe in ‘em.”

Alan observes Eric, sees that faith in his husband’s eyes before he turns his own to the horizon. The breeze that’s accompanied them now feels like it’s trying to assure Alan itself that his ex and his friend will be alright. They will return alive. “They’d better because I’m eager to learn the full story. I have so many questions I need answered.” he counts on his fingers, “Ronald’s ‘mother’, who is really his aunt, the very fact that William’s parents killed yours, what Haven really is and how it properly came to be, why the Spears family is so renowned by the Board and why no one’s done anything about Haven before.” he glances behind himself, staring at their home. “Clearly, Callum would have told us something if someone didn’t decide he was better unconscious.”

Eric just shrugs again. “Still not apologising."

Alan can only laugh at that, “I don’t expect you too.” he leans closer to Eric, lowering his voice, “though I can’t say Kimiko’s reaction to last night wasn't odd.”

Eric nods. “Aye. She didn’t seem all that worried about Callum. Didn’t even try to stop me.” he scratches his goatee, “wonder if there’s trouble in paradise.”

Alan shakes his head. “Considering how they were acting before last night, I doubt it.” he crosses his arms over his chest, “she barely even acknowledged Rose. Even now, when I left her with Callum, she barely even acknowledged the state he was in.”

Eric glances back at the door, his gaze lingering on the closed wood. “Her and Callum just came back from Haven, so maybe somethin’ happened there that changed ‘em.”

Alan taps his chin in thought. “Maybe. Callum did want to explain a few things before you decided he needed a nice long nap.”

Eric props one foot up on the step, leaning on his knee as he gives Alan a deadpan look. “Lad, are ye gonna keep remindin’ me about what I clearly remember?”

Alan’s the one to shrug this time. “Well, I said I didn’t blame you for what you did, I never said I agreed with it.”

Eric rolls his eyes then after a moment, sighs. “Right. Fine. Maybe I shouldn’t have knocked him flat on his arse. I promise, when he wakes up, I’ll keep myself under control.” he looks up to the sky, spotting a few birds flying overheard. “Kimiko said Spears wouldn’t tell ‘em why he wanted to stay, which I dunno if I believe. He made a choice and obviously, that choice influenced Ron too, so Will damn well told them why he was stayin’.”

“Perhaps Ronald didn’t want William to stay there alone?” Alan suggests.

“I mean…aye, I guess that could be true, but still. I feel like he’s told his parents why and Kimiko just won’t tell us for whatever fucking reason.”

Alan hears the frustration in Eric’s voice and he’d be lying if he said he didn’t understand why. “Well, when Callum wakes up, he’s going to tell us everything,” he playfully pokes Eric’s cheek, “and I’m sure you’re going to make sure he does.”

Eric cracks his knuckles, “damn right I will. I won’t kill the lad, but if he doesn’t wanna be bedridden the entire time he’s here, he’ll talk.”

Alan rubs his hand up and down Eric’s arm, doing his best to comfort his partner. “I should really admonish this behaviour, to tell you it’s extreme, but honestly, it’s one of the few circumstances that, I think, it’s warranted.”

Eric smirks. “Still don’t agree with it though?”

“Oh no. Of course not.”

Eric outright laughs, hugging Alan to him. Alan smiles softly in turn, letting himself be held by his partner. It’s peaceful for a long moment until Eric leans down and kisses the top of Alan’s head, “thank ye, love.”

Alan raises an eyebrow, “for what?”

“For what ye said. I know, deep down I do, that I’m overreactin’ but…” he shakes his head, “I never had an answer to what happened to them for decades, then all of a sudden, I know who did it and it was someone who tried tellin’ me they wanted to reach out and take care of me.” he scoffs, the sound laced with bitterness. “More likely wanted to kill me too.”

Alan leans up, rubbing his hand up and down Eric’s back, “I know. You don’t have to explain yourself to me. Hopefully, when William does come back, we’ll have the full story because I doubt they’ll continue to lie to their son when he’s probably learned the truth himself.”

“Like you said, I’m gonna make sure Callum does. He’ll tell us everything, him and Kimiko. She’s not innocent in this either.” he rubs his hand over his forehead, looking at Alan again, “ah enough of this for now. I’d love to stay with ye hen, but I still have a job to do.”

Alan frowns, a small crease forming between his brows, “that’s right. I suppose I shouldn’t keep you then. The Board, most likely, has already noticed how messy things have been.”

Eric exhales, forcing himself to stand. “No doubt. Wouldn’t be surprised if I walk into the office and there’s already a letter waitin’ for me.” he leans down, properly kissing his husband, a tender, lingering touch. “Be careful, hen. I’ll be home as soon as I can.”

Alan nods, cupping Eric’s cheek, his thumb gently stroking the rough skin. “I know. Don’t worry, I’m able to take care of myself.”

Eric smirks despite the concern shining in his eyes. “I know ye can, but the worry isn’t somehin’ I can turn off.”

“While I find it highly annoying,” Alan smiles, a teasing glint in his own eyes, “I do appreciate it.” He kisses Eric again then pushes him away with a gentle nudge. “Now go. The last thing we need is to get William into trouble.”

“Right, right.”

Alan stands up as he watches Eric head off to work, the morning light feeling just a little dimmer all of a sudden. He glances back once more at their home, the familiar comfort feeling distant now. He isn’t all too eager to go back inside, the silence within its wall more unsettling than any noise.

********************

The walk to the school is quiet save for the crunch of gravel under their feet and the occasional sigh of the wind weaving through the skeletal branches of bare trees. The buildings they pass seem to lean inward, their darkened windows like vacant eyes. “If it was at all possible, and I didn't find this town creepy before, I definitely do now.” Ronald comments, sticking as close to William as physically possible.

“The air has changed.” William agrees. “As if the town itself knows what we’re trying to do.”

Ronald slips his arm around William’s waist, feeling better with a good anchor on the older reaper. “Don’t like it and will never like it. Remember when I said never drinkin’ again? Yeah, well, I'm thinking a few rounds at the pub is exactly what I need after gettin’ outta this place.”

“If you can.”

Ronald frowns, peering at Oliver from around William. He’s conflicted. On one hand, he doesn’t trust the child that is technically his brother but on the other, he doesn’t doubt William’s judgement. If William thinks Oliver is harmless, then he’ll believe him. Well, for now at least.

When the school finally comes into view, it looks ten times worse than it did the first time. Its widows are bricked over, thick ivy grasps at the worn away walls and the bell that once used to appear proud yet ominous, is not frozen mid-chime, hanging crookedly in the tower. “So, I’m gonna guess the school looking worse is a bid sign.” Ronald mutters, pressing just that little bit closer to William.

Oliver swallows, his hand clutching tighter to William’s. “It doesn’t…look like that.” his voice trembles, “It’s not supposed to look like that…”

“Ha. Greeeat.” Ronald groans.

William lets Oliver’s hand go and separates himself from Ronald to be the first one to walk up to the school doors. They’re warped and weathered now, their once grand wood now splintered with one slightly ajar and creaking with each shift of the wind. He carefully presses on the half-opened door with his good hand, the creaking growing worse then more he pushes the door open before taking the first steps inside. Immediately, he’s hit with a difference in air quality–the inside is thick with dust causing William to cough into his hand, trying to force out the uncomfortable tingle in his throat. “The inside is just as bad as the out.” he comments when the other two join him.

“It’s also way colder.” Ronald mutters, rubbing his arms vigorously as his eyes train on the faint, ghost-like puffs when he breathes.

“It is.” William agrees after clearing his throat. He glances down at Oliver; the child’s extremely pale all of a sudden, standing stock still and trembling like a leaf. “Oliver?” he asks, his voice gentle as he kneels down to the boy’s height.

“I-I’m not supposed to be here.” Oliver whispers, “R-Ronan doesn’t want me here.” he steps backwards, his movements jerky, before outright bolting from the school doors. In the second it takes before said doors close, Oliver vanishes into the thick, swirling fog that now surrounds the school.

“Red flaaaag.” Ronald huffs, continuing to rub his hands up and down his arms. “Well, great. Now what?” William frowns after Oliver, his gaze lingering on the door before standing up again, facing the interior of the school once more. It’s quiet, of course it is as not even the wind has breached the walls, and yet, William could swear he hears something. Or, someone rather. It’s faint, a sound that could be very well mistaken for the wind, but he hears it. A voice. “Will?”

William snaps his attention back to the present, finding his eyes on Ronald who stares at him with both an expectant and concerned expression. “I apologise.” he says before Ronald can ask any other questions. “We continue with what our plan was to begin with. Oliver told us he could not show us exactly where the key is, thus even without him, our main goal is still to look for said key.”

“I mean, sure, but no offence Will, this school is huge and we’re lookin’ for something so small.” Ronald gestures vaguely at the vast space before them, “we might not even find it at all.”

William adjusts his glasses, a small movement that betrays his anxiety. “We certainly won’t if we do not, at least, try.”

While Ronald clearly doesn’t think they’ll find anything, he bites his tongue and chooses to humor William, “okay. We’ll try.”

“Thank you.” William says, bowing his head to Ronald before cupping his jaw as he thinks. “Now, if we think about this in a more logical sense, schools tend to have a music room, correct?”

“I mean, I think so.”

“Then that should be our first step. It gives us some place to go and something less small to look for in this grand building.”

William sounds so sure of himself that Ronald’s starting to believe him as well. He may still think it’s absurd to look for a key in here, but he’s refused to leave William’s side. So he snatches up William’s hand and squeezes it reassuringly, then smirks up at his superior. “I suppose you could say, where there’s a Will there’s a way?” as William just stares unimpressed down at him, Ronald goads him on a little more, gently nudging his side, “ehhhh?”

William outright rolls his eyes, making it almost an exaggerated movement. “Honestly.”

“Aw c’mon! Just tryin’ to lighten up the mood!”

William touches Ronald’s cheek with his other hand, running his thumb just under Ronald’s eye. “Your presence does so already.”

Ronald blinks before fighting down the blush he feels trying to creep onto his cheeks. “Yeah, uh, thanks, Will.” William, seemingly satisfied he’s caused such a reaction from his companion, leads the way then, with a proper destination in mind.

The ground floor has nothing but dust and decay.

The first floor is much the same as the one before it.

But upon reaching the second floor, there’s something else. That voice. It’s raspy and broken, hardly even heard despite how quiet the halls around them are. “Help…”

“Will?” Ronald whispers, his grip tightening on William’s hand, “you hear that, right?”

“I do.” Yet William does not fear it the same way Ronald seems to. Instead, after it calls out one more time, William finds he recognises the voice. It’s a shadow of the reaper’s former self but he’d still recognise it even if it died a little more. “Mother.”

Ronald blinks. “Your mum?” he swallows. “Ronan did imply the mum we were with before wasn’t the real one.”

“So this one must be.”

“Or it could be a trap.” Ronald warns him, almost tempted to pull William in the other direction. “What if we follow it and end up beheaded or somethin’?” 

He doesn’t doubt William’s rational mind would agree with him under any other circumstance but now, Ronald doesn’t get the reaction he wants. Instead, William continues to stare down the corridor where the voice is still, weakly, trying to cry out. “H-He…lp…” He knows Ronald could very well be right. There is real danger in Haven, however, if he chose to ignore the cry, a part of him would never forget the sound, that he allowed his mother to perish in such an awful place despite another part of him thinking she deserved it.

Much to Ronald’s chagrin, William starts walking down the corridor and though Ronald stands still in disbelief for a second, he catches right back up to William, locking his arm around the older reaper’s waist again, his fingers digging into William’s shirt, a silent plea for William to turn around.

The voice leads them to a classroom with a door that looks somehow worse than the rest of the building. It physically looks like it’s decaying, the wood peeling back on itself and that same, black tar from behind the mirror, seeping from multiple crevices. Ronald wants to implore WIllam again to turn around because that’s a bad omen but William continues to ignore all warning signs. He only pauses for half a second with his hand around the doorknob before slamming it open, the door crashing into the wall behind it with a resounding echo that fills the empty corridor. Inside, staring at them with terror in her eyes, is Kimiko herself. Her clothes are torn, her hair dishevelled and her face is streaked with grime. Ronald’s eyes widen in shock, a gasp caught in his throat only to die completely when he sees William’s reaction. Or rather, the lack of one. His face is entirely blank. “Mother.” is the first word that comes from William’s lips, a word that barely conceals the anger inside him.

“W-William…?” her voice is raspy and broken, barely able to reach a higher octave. “Is…is t-that really…you?”

William still does not react the way Ronald expected him to. There’s no rush of emotion, no sudden demand for answers. His gaze remains vacant, reminiscent of the way his doppelgänger reacted upon seeing Callum and Kimiko the first time. “Yes. It’s the real me as well.” Each word is overly enunciated as he tries to contain his rage.

The relief in her eyes is quick to fade, replaced by a flicker of pain. “You will help me, won’t you, William? Y-You will free me…?” her eyes plead just as much as her voice does.

William looks away, jaw clenching, “you want me to save you? To free you? Why would I do such a thing when I was only born for you to kill?” his voice is dangerously low, a bitterness in his tone Ronald’s not quite heard before.

The realisation dawns on her face, her expression falling. “You know…?”

“I do. I know everything, mother, and now you’re asking for my help when I know you and father thought nothing of me. That you two only saw me as a means to an end. A child, I’m sure, you were already planning to replace with another, one you would actually care for.” he crosses his arms, his posture rigid; closed off. “I feel, if anything, it’d be appropriate to leave you here.”

Ronald nudges William’s side a little harder this time, “we can’t just leave her here, Will.” he frowns. “Look, I know a thing or two about shite parents, but leavin’ her here would be no better than what she did to you.”

William glances down at him. “I am not worried about being the better person in this case.”

“She changed her mind.” Ronald continues, holding William’s arm as if his very touch could convince William to change his mind. “Her and your dad, they both did. Shouldn’t you give her the same chance?”

William glances away again, Ronald feeling the way he curls and uncurls his fingers. The silence feels like it stretches on for minutes before WIlliam finally moves. He turns his attention back to his mother then approaches her, crouching down to look at the chains keeping her arms above her head. “They appear weak where they’re attached to the wall.”

“So we can smash ‘em?” Ronald clarifies, watching as William’s fingers test the strength of each chain.

“Perhpas.” he reaches down, as if to grab the weapon he was sure he had on him, but after a moment of patting around for the knife, he comes up empty handed. “Damn it. Don’t tell me I lost the bloody thing already.”

Ronald reaches over and touches William’s shoulder, “hey, no big deal, yeah? I’ll look around for something to smash the chains with, okay? You stay with her.” he flashes William a reassuring smile before starting his search about the room.

As William remains knelt next to his mother, there’s a tension between them, one William isn’t keen on breaking. He refuses to look at her, clearly wanting nothing to do with her in general. “William,” Kimiko finally speaks, voice trembling with regret, “I am so sorry. I…I wish you did not have to learn what your father and I did.”

“You would have never told me.” William counters, his voice flat and devoid of emotion. “No matter what, you both would have kept this secret from me. You allowed me to feel like a failure when I was injured from that death scythe.”

Tears begin to form at the corner of her eyes, because she can’t even say he was wrong. “You have every right to be angry with us, but you have to know, that when your father and I saw you in hospital, that was when we realised what we agreed to.” she swallows, wincing at her dry throat. “You were so young, and once we saw you, so small, on the verge of death, it broke my heart.” her voice cracks, thick with emotions she never expected to feel again.

William continues to avoid looking at her, keeping his eyes trained on the crumbling wall where the chains are attached. “Even if that were true, what I want to know, is what made the contract Rebecca proposed so appealing to begin with? Why would you think it was a good idea?”

Kimiko shakes her head. “She promised it would be safe.” she insists. “You recall the Scout that the Board did nothing to stop?”

“Of course I do. The story you told me was one that began my own questioning of the Board.” William’s voice is still bitter, but there’s a hint of him willing to try and understand.

“Then that was part of the reason why.” She turns her head to William, her eyes imploring. “Will you look at me?” William doesn’t respond for a moment, his internal conflict visible, before finally looking down at his mother, his gaze still guarded. Her voice grows soft then, a smile forming over her chapped lips as she gazes upon her only son, “it was also our only chance to have a child.”

William’s face goes slack, the anger momentarily forgotten, as surprise flashes in his eyes. “ What ?” The word is a choked gasp.

“Yes. Haven would permit us to have a child. To have you.”

“Found something!” Ronald announces as he returns to them, holding a rock, jagged and heavy. “It’s as good as it’s gonna get. There’s nothin’ else in here and like hell am I leavin’ without you two.”

William offers his hand, his fingers closing around the rough stone as Ronald hands it to him. It’s a solid weight and hopefully, it’ll work. He turns to the chains and raises his arm. With one, heavy strike, he smashes the rock against the end of the chains, a loud crack echoing and the chain shatters from the wall, sending fragments of rusted metal flying. He repeats the same with the other chain and Kimiko’s arms drop limply at her sides, a shuddering sigh escaping her. “Thank you.” she whispers, rolling her shoulders, trying to work the stiffness from them. “Thank you so much. I was terrified no one would find me.” her voice is still weak, but it’s filled with her gratitude.

“What happened?” William asks, his voice gentler now as Ronald crouches on Kimiko’s other side.

“When I brought Mr. Slingby to Haven to search for the both of you, I entered the Slingby home, and after I wrote you a note, another version of me attacked me from behind. I barely had the energy to defend myself until Haven itself intervened. Before I knew it, I’d woken up chained in this room.” Her voice is strained, though trembles at the memory of seeing her own visage copying every move she made.

“Why this room in particular?”

“It was the classroom I was in charge of.”

“You mean terrorised children in?” William comments, standing up, that bitterness returning.

Kimiko sighs, “I suppose I deserved that.”

William, though still clearly angry, does lean down to help his mother to her feet, his hand offering support. She holds onto him, her knees weak and hardly able to hold herself up. “Are you capable of walking?” he asks.

“I am, yes. The less time spent in this place, the better.”

William and Ronald glance at each other before he tells his mother, “Knox and I will not be going with you then.”

For as weak as she appeared, how quick her attention sapped to Ronald was impeccable. “ Knox ?”

Ronald swallows and William recalls that this isn’t the Kimiko he’s explained everything to. “Right. I suppose you’ll need a quick briefing about this and about him.” so William gives that to her, keeping his eye on his mother, slowly letting her stand on her own two feet as more and more of her strength returns.

“Rebecca’s son.” Kimiko says, looking at Ronald, curiosity in her gaze, “you do look somewhat like her, the blond hair especially. Although the hairstyle is…unqiue.”

Ronald rubs the back of his neck. “Thanks…I think.”

William crosses his arms, his expression serious once more. “Now, mother, I have a question about this school.”

Her attention swaps back to William. “And what is it?”

“We’re lookin’ for a music room,” Ronald replies, “you wouldn’t happen to know if this place has one, do you?”

She looks perplexed, her brow furrowing. “It does, yes but why on earth do you need to find it?”

“We’re looking for a key to a pipe organ.” William answers, pulling out the other two and showing them to her. “It’s the last one.”

Kimiko looks at his hand then back at his face. “You couldn’t possibly mean the organ that was played during the rituals, do you?”

“So you know it?” Ronald asks.

“Of course I do. It would repeat the same song over and over again until the ritual was complete. The song itself was Rebecca’s own creation, one she deemed worthy of the ‘Star’.”

“You mean demon.” WIlliam says, pocketing the keys again.

Kimiko looks almost horrified at the idea. “ Demon ?!”

William frowns. “I will explain later on. Right now, yes. The music room. Where is it?”

Kimiko looks between them, silent for a moment, debating whether she should direct them or not before lifting a trembling arm and pointing out the door. “It’s at the end of the far corridor. Though I recall doing my best to avoid it, as the music teacher was always…strange.”

Ronald sighs. “Sounds about right for this place.”

“Then let us not waste another second.” Despite that, he does pause, meeting his mother’s eyes. “Will you join us or will you leave?”

Kimiko rubs at her wrists, her entire being screaming at her to leave while she has the chance, but she knows there’s safety in numbers and after constantly worrying about William’s well-being, she doesn’t want to leave his side so she’ll know he’s safe. “I will join you.”

“Right then.” he starts moving towards the indicated corridor, his steps purposeful. Ronald falls into step beside him, instinctively taking his hand again, their fingers intertwining, a silent promise of support. Kimiko hesitates for a moment, her gaze lingering on the dark hallway, then follows, her movements still stiff but determined.

The corridor is even darker and colder than the classroom they had just left. Dust motes dance in the sparse, weak beams of light that pierce through cracks in the ceiling, illuminating ghostly outlines of forgotten lockers and faded murals on the walls, their colours long since leached away by time and neglect. Each step echoes ominously, a hollow sound that seems to reverberate through the very fabric of the old building, and the silence, save for their footsteps, is unnerving.

They reach the end of the corridor and much like before, William’s the one to open the door, pushing it open with purpose. The music room is vast, its high ceilings lost in shadow, filled with the ghostly shapes of covered instruments–a grand piano draped in white sheets, rows of empty music stands, their surfaces coated in a thick layer of dust, and what looks like a disassembled drum kit in a corner, its cymbals dull and tarnished. The air is still, heavy and thick with the scent of old wood, forgotten dreams, and the faint, sweet decay of time. “Well, this is kinda disappointing,” Ronald states, his voice flat, the initial excitement draining from him. “Doesn’t look like there’s anything in here. Just…dust.”

William scans the room with a scrutinising gaze, taking in every detail about the forgotten space. “I wouldn’t say there’s nothing.” he comments, walking towards a large, ornate, music stand partly hidden by the piano. He removes some of the white sheet to reveal a leather-bound book resting on the stand. He picks it up carefully, the leather dry and brittle beneath his fingers. When he opens it, he finds it’s filled to the brim with a madman's ramblingings.

“What is it?” Kimiko asks, entering cautiously, her gaze sweeping over the room.

William flips through the pages, brow furrowed in concentration, the faint rustle of old paper the only sound. “It’s a record of all the teacher’s lesson’s, each one describing the punishment should his students fail the lesson.” he fips the page. “I understand what you mean, mother although I’d call him a sadist instead.” he flips the page again; the ink here is fresher. It’s recently been written. “‘The final key, not seen but heard, a melody dark, a whispered word. Sing its warning, cold and deep, the secrets that the shadows keep.’” William reads aloud.

Ronald cocks his head. “A…song? Don’t tell me we gotta actually sing somethin’.”

Kimiko, who’d been looking over William’s shoulder, nods slowly. “He was a theatrical man and believed in the power of music to solve all problems, even the most mundane of them.”

William looks down at the page again. “There’s no notes, no lyrics, no rhyme. The only song that immediately comes to mind is the song you mentioned only a couple of minutes ago, mother. Did the song the pipe organ played during the ritual have any lyrics?”

Kimiko sighs, “it does. In fact, it’s also the song that students were made to sing at the start of every day. Rebecca was rather happy with how it would remind the children how their life was a fragile thing and, to the one that was chosen, their sacrifice was not a fruitless endeavour." she tries to hum, but only a dry, raspy sound emerges. She winces, rubbing at her throat, “at least, I recall the rhythm and the lyrics.” She looks around the room, her gaze falling on a dusty chalkboard and a few pieces of old chalk on the ledge below it. Stiffly, her movements still hampered by her recent ordeal, she walks to the chalkboard. She picks up a piece of chalk, its white surface stark against her grimy fingers, and with a trembling hand, begins to scrawl the lyrics, the chalk scratching faintly against the board:

When the veil thins, and shadows call,

One pure heart must heed the fall.

A chosen soul, a whispered name,

To feed the hunger, quench the flame.

The blood will spill, the sacrifice,

To buy our peace, a dreadful price.

So sing the hymn, of what must be,

One boy's end, to keep us free.

“That’s it…?” Ronald asks. “The one she made kids sing?”

“Yes.” Kimiko replies, continuing to write on the board, her hand still trembling as she adds a few simple lines to indicate the tune’s pattern.

William stares at the words, subconsciously rubbing his own throat. “I’m not certain I’ll be able to sing to this teacher’s satisfaction levels.”

Ronald slides up to William, bumping shoulders with him. “I’ve been told by Grell and Eric that I can hold a tune, so, I can try.”

William looks at him. “You’re willing to risk punishment?"

Ronald’s eye twitches. “Yep. I mean, wasn’t aware there was gonna be a punishment when I offered, but, yep. I am.”

William touches Ronald’s arm, offering him a reassuring, small, smile. “Then by all means.”

Ronald nods, takes a deep breath, then begins to sing. There’s a tremble in his voice, worried he might, somehow, mess up the words and endure that punishment, but he forces it to be steady when he nears the end, eyes locked on the words Kimiko wrote.

When he comes to the end, nothing happens for only a moment before the music stand descends into the floor. Ronald scoots himself closer to William, all of them watching the stand disappear, only for it to return moments later with a key on it.

William moves first, eyeing the item cautiously before taking the old, iron key into his hand. “You did it.” he tells Ronald, a fond look flashing in his eyes as he looks at the younger reaper. “It gave us a key.”

“Hell yeah!” he cheers before snapping his mouth shut, momentarily forgetting where they were. “Does it say for where?”

“The clock tower.”

Ronald blinks. “Clock tower? As in, the one that looks like it’s gonna topple over any second?"

“The very same.”

“I do not think going up there is a good idea.” Kimiko warns her son. “It could be very dangerous.”

“Then we’ll have to be careful.” William says, enclosing his fingers around the key. “Are you both ready?”

Ronald nods, a mixture of trepidation and excitement on his face, a nervous energy thrumming through him. “As I’ll ever be, Will.”

Kimiko takes a shaky breath, then straightens her shoulders. “I suppose I must be.”

The three of them leave the music room, the heavy door creaking shut behind them as if reluctant to let them go.

As they start to ascend the stairs again, the more they climb, the more Ronald starts to notice William slowing down bit by bit. At first, he used to lead the three of them, but now, he’s falling a little behind his mother and Ronald sees the tinge of pain on his face, pain he’s clearly trying to hide. “Will.” Ronald frowns, jogging back down the few steps to stand at William’s side. “C’mon, let’s take a break.”

“There’s no need for that.” William insists, forcing himself to stand straight despite the wince he gives. “I am capable of continuing.”

“No you’re not.” Ronald outright tells him. “Your back is acting up again, isn’t it? Don’t lie to me either.”

“William?” Kimiko asks. “Your injury still bothers you this badly?”

William automatically sends her a glare, “yes. It does.” he focuses back on Ronald. “I am fine. I will rest when we reach the clocktower.”

Ronald looks him up and down. “You promise?”

“I do.”

“Fine but if you look like you’re gonna keel over, we’re stopping, got it?”

William can’t help but touch Ronald’s arm affectionately, offering him a brief smile, “understood.” Kimiko watches the interaction but holds her tongue. If given the chance, she would ask about it later.

After several minutes, they finally reach the landing of the top floor and before them, is an old iron door. William glances at the key he’s holding before sliding it into the lock and it fits perfectly. He doesn’t even need to bother twisting it as the key does that itself, unlocking the door and once it’s pushed open, there’s a spiral staircase behind it. It’s made of rusted iron, its surface rough and cold. The steps are uneven, treacherous, and the railing is corroded. "This is it," William states, his voice slightly strained from the climb. "The tower is above us." He pauses, leaning against the cold stone wall for a moment, a hand pressing to his lower back. 

“And you still don’t wanna take a break?” Ronald clarifies.

“Yes.” he assures his companion. “We’re close as it is. A few more steps won’t kill me.” Ronald doesn’t like the idea but there’s no point in arguing when he’s set in his ways.

They continue their ascent, the darkness increasing with every turn of the spiral stairs, wrapping around them like a shroud. William relies on touch and the faint light filtering from below to guide them, his hands brushing against cold, rough stone and cobweb-laced iron, the sticky threads clinging to his fingers. Ronald's grip on his arm remains firm, offering silent support, a constant, reassuring presence. The sound of the wind grows louder, making the structure feel less like a building and more like a skeletal cage.

Finally, they emerge onto a small, circular platform at the very top of the clock tower. The air here is thin and cold, carrying the metallic tang of old iron. The rusted bell hangs precariously above them, motionless and massive. Dim light streams in through the gaping, bricked-over window openings, casting long, eerie shadows that dance and writhe with every subtle shift of the wind. The mechanism of the bell, a complex tangle of gears, chains, and counterweights, is visible and appears just as dilapidated as the rest of the school, covered in rust and dust. "Wow…take a look at that view," Ronald says, peering out one of the openings only to quickly pull back, unnerved by the sheer height. "Just...try not to move too fast up here, Will. One wrong step and–"

“Thank you, Knox, but I do not need the mental image," William interrupts, his voice tight with a mixture of pain and exasperation, his eyes fixed on the bell's mechanism. He approaches it carefully, mindful of his back. He runs his hand over the cold, rough metal, feeling the years of neglect. Then, his hand runs over a bump. He runs his fingers over it a few times before pressing on it and that bump turns out to be a button, to which a panel opens up below it. Relief washes over him when he’s able to take the final key of the pipe organ into his hands. “We have it.” he says to the other two. “The last one.”

“Finally!” Ronald groans happily, slumping against the wall. “I mean, it coulda been a lot worse.”

“I’m sure.” William replies, pocketing the key, but he turns too suddenly and pain lances up his spine. 

He stumbles forward, Ronald automatically catching him so he doesn’t fall. “Will?”

“Just give me a moment.” William tells him, pressing himself against the wall this time, leaning his entire body weight against it.

Kimiko turns her head briefly from William before trying to look him dead in the eyes, “William, I–”

“I know.” William cuts her off, “you’re going to apologise again, but there are only so many apologies one can hear. Once was enough and I will decide if you deserve that forgiveness or not.” he glances away, pushing up his glasses, “father hasn’t.”

Kimiko puts her hand on William’s shoulder, a gentle, pleading touch. “You musn’t be too hard on him. He was just as distraught as I was when we found you in hospital.

“I severely doubt that.” William’s voice is cold.

“He was. He was the one that made the choice for us to run, regardless of the punishment we might endure.” her hand drops to his arm, a tender caress, “William, I know your father and I made a mistake signing your life over to Rebecca and the ritual, but we tried so very hard to rectify that. We took you to Japan because that was the farthest place from Haven we could go and I know we were hard on you but that was because we were terrified something would happen to you and…and we allowed that fear to turn into pressure.”

“Is that meant to change my mind?” William’s voice remains flat, emotionless.

“It’s meant to be a reason.” she breathes out, a shaky sigh. “When you told us you were leaving to London after the scythe incident, your father and I were terrified again, but we could not keep you from going less we told you about Haven.” 

“You should have.” William counters with a near snarl. “You should have told me. Instead, I found out from the town itself that I was meant to be one of the children slaughtered to their bloody ‘Star’.”

Kimiko nods, her eyes brimming with tears. “I know. Believe me William, I know. Your father and I could have done so many different things with you but we didn’t and then you refused to have any contact with us that went beyond letters.”

“Because I believed you both were so disappointed in me, that you wouldn’t want communication. Do you know how painful it is to think that your parents see you as a failure? To hear, from the other managers, that you’re only in the position you are because your father was able to get you into it? And then when you saw me in hospital after I did something I severely regret…the look in your eyes…” he closes his own, a shudder running through him as the painful memory resurfaces. “It was the same disappointment I saw in your eyes the day I lost that sodding duel.”

“No.” Kimiko quickly reassures, grabbing William’s shoulders, her grip firm, desperate to show she means it. “Perhaps you perceived it as such but when we saw you in hospital again, your father and I saw our five year old son lain up in bed again, on the verge of death.” she cups his face, staring him dead in the eyes, “we were reminded of the horrors we nearly subjected you too and for that, I could never forgive myself.” a tear spills over, “you were a blessing and we were prepared to give you to a curse.”

William searches her eyes, a deep conflict inside him, glancing away for a moment before looking back at her, a flicker of uncertainty in his gaze. “You said Haven was your only chance to even have a child. What did you mean by that?”

She lowers her hands, looking pained out one of the cracks in the walls. “Your father and I could not conceive no matter how hard we tried. For whatever reason, fate told us we were not allowed to have children and for a time, we accepted that. Until Rebecca told your father about Haven. She said it would be a place where reapers could raise a family without the Board’s interference, without worry another demon will step through the barrier. Where even those who were plagued by the inability to procreate, could.” she looks back at William, “when you were born, we were told not to grow attached. That you were to be sacrificed and once your time came and went, we could have another and raise them with the affections we could not give you and…and as much as I want to believe Haven warped out mindset, I cannot say we didn’t agree to those terms on our own. We believed we owed Haven for what it was able to give us.”

William opens and closes his mouth a few times, completely shocked, unsure what to say, the weight of her words settling heavily on him. While he’s still angry, a part of him understands what even having that choice must have been like. “A child.” he says quietly, softer than he meant to. “All you wanted was a child and Haven gave you that chance.”

“Yes. It did.”

“I see.” he glances at Ronald who’s been standing awkwardly off to the side during their whole conversation, clearly letting mother and son work through their issues. “I am…I am unable to have children as well.”

Kimiko blinks, a slow, disbelieving movement, before her eyes go wide, shock washing over her. “What?”

“I cannot have children.” he repeats, holding himself defensively, like a shield against more pain.

“And I…” she realises what all her letters to William meant, all the times she asked about grandchildren, each question now a cruel, unintentional jab. “My letters must have made you feel so…” Her voice trails off, choked with sudden, overwhelming guilt.

“Like a failure.” he tells her, his voice raw. “I felt like there was nothing I could do that would please you and father and the one thing that may have, I learned I could not give you either.”

“My son.” she takes hold of his arms again, her grip firm, pulling his attention back to her. “William, I…I know I cannot speak for your father, but is there a chance, once this is all over, that we may have a proper sit down and discuss everything now that there are no more secrets?”

William slowly breathes out, a long, tired sigh. A part of him wants to tell her ‘no’, that his decades of feeling worthless and his newfound anger will not be extinguished by a mere talk, and yet, there is a part of him that thinks, maybe, if he did give them that chance, could they salvage whatever relationship there still was? “Fine. I suppose…I suppose I, at least, owe the two of you that.”

Ronald looks between the two, then makes up his mind, a sudden resolve in his eyes. He walks forward and puts his hand on William’s arm, a bold, possessive gesture. “There’s one more secret, Mrs. Spears.” he says, looking up at William, his gaze unwavering, “I’m his boyfriend.”

Even William looks bewildered by that announcement, completely shocked for a moment. Kimiko stares at him, rapidly flicking her attention between him and William, her mind reeling, before folding her hands to her mouth and swallowing whatever she wanted to say, before lowering her hands. “Is this true?”

William slowly comes back to his senses, staring at Ronald for a long, intense minute, his heart pounding. When Ronald keeps meeting his eyes with a determined look, he knows the younger reaper means it. “It’s…true. It’s true. We’re lovers.”

To his even greater surprise, Kimiko actually smiles at them. A true, genuine, smile. “I see. Well, I hope you both will continue to make each other happy.” Her voice is warm, full of surprising acceptance.

“We will.” Ronald assures with, what William thinks, is far too much confidence. “But that’s not gonna happen for long if we don’t do what we came here to then get outta here. The only thing we gotta do now is, somehow, get back into that secret room we found in the townhall.”

“That will be rather tough to do.” Kimiko tells them. “Rebecca hardly let anyone she didn’t deem worthy inside.”

William puts his hand to his chin as he thinks. “Well, there is one thing we could try, however, it’s up to you, Ronald, if you’re willing to do it.”

Ronald cocks an eyebrow, a wary curiosity in his gaze. “What’cha have in mind?”

“You're her son and clearly, you’re also the one that got away. Perhaps, if you pretend you’re willing to help her, then she may allow you back inside where you can find that secret room again and put the organ back together.” 

Ronald frowns, a deep line etched between his brows. “I dunno. That’s kinda risky for somethin’ we don’t even know that’ll work…maybe Kimiko could do it? You know the tune better than me or Will do.”

“I suppose I could try, so long as we–”

The bell suddenly starts ringing, a deafening, jarring clang that shakes the entire tower. The rusted iron groans under the sudden vibrations and the bell finally gives way, collapsing under its own immense weight, falling straight through the floor they stood on. Ronald and Kimiko react quickly, scrambling backwards and away from the huge plummeting weight but William, with his back still aching from the climb, is a fraction too slow. The floor beneath him gives way, the splintered wood and crumbling stone plunging him into the terrifying darkness below. A sickening thud echoes from somewhere far below as the bell hits the bottom.

Ronald, the moment he sees it happen, reacts nearly instantly, surging forward and grabbing William’s hand in an iron grip. Except, it was his injured hand that Ronald clutched in an iron grip and a searing hot bolt of pain lances through William’s arm. Despite the agonising pain, William doesn’t let go either, curling his fingers the best he can, his other hand snaps around Ronald’s arm in a just as tight hold. “William!” Kimiko screams, her face white as a sheet as she peers down into the hole, seeing her son desperately cling to his lover.

“I have him!” Ronald assures. “He didn’t let me go and I won’t let him!”

Despite the pain he's in, a part of William takes a moment to really admire Ronald’s strength, fully believing him now that he’d be able to outright carry him if he needed to. He does his best to help as well, trying to find something to give him some leverage and, as Ronald pulls him higher, he’s able to find a small ledge with his foot, pushing off it just enough to lessen his dead weight and with one, final, pull, Ronald hauls William fully up, pulling him away from the ledge. William collapses onto his side, cradling his hand close as every nerve in it feels like it’s on fire. Ronald immediately kneels next to him, eyes wide and unsure what he should do. “Will! Are you okay? How bad are you hurt?”

Kimiko quickly kneels beside William’s side as well, her hands held tightly against her chest, her eyes scanning him over for any other injuries. “William, love, are you alright? Please speak to us.”

William takes a deep breath before opening his eyes and forcing himself to sit up. His face is pale and his body still trembles slightly as he flexes his injured hand, wincing as a fresh wave of pain washes over him. “My back and my hand feel as if they’re burning, but give me a moment and I’ll be capable of moving again.” Ronald urges him to lean against him for support, to which William does, allowing Ronald to hold all his weight, a reprieve for his back.

Kimiko reaches over, brushing a strand of hair from William’s face. “Are you certain you’ll be alright?”

“Yes mother.” William sighs, as if he’s annoyed by her affection, “I just need a moment.”

Ronald rubs his hand up and down William’s arm, staring at the large hole. “I don’t wanna rush you Will, but I don’t think we should stay here too long.”

William glances up at Ronald then to the hole as well, realising Ronald does have a point. “Alright, alright.” he tries to stand on his own but Ronald is already there, helping him to his feet then practically forcing William to lean on him, much like he had before. William doesn’t try to protest, he just leans on Ronald, allowing the younger reaper to be his crutch.

The descent from the clock tower is slow, Ronald checking in with William every other step, ignoring the exasperation he hears in William’s voice. Kimiko follows after them, her attention solely on William, only shifting whenever she hears something that might bring danger but it’s always just the wind.

Finally reaching the main hall, Ronald can’t help but whistle as this is where the bell’s landed, crooked and embedded into the floor. “Damn. That is one big bell.” he comments, skirting around it with WIlliam.

“I can say I’d rather have fallen through a hole than risk being crushed.” William adds, shifting his arm around Ronald’s shoulders.

“Or, y’know, stuck inside it.”

“Or that.”

As they step out into fresh air, a sense of liberation washes over them. “Alright,” Ronald says, pulling William closer as they start to walk away from the school. “Let’s get you back to Eric’s place where you’re gonna rest for however long it takes for you to feel better. No protesting allowed.”

William allows himself a small, quiet chuckle that turns more into a wheeze, a sound of tired amusement and lingering pain. “I won’t. I promise.”

Chapter Text

Despite having two extra guests in his home and Grell accompanying him in the kitchen, the house remains rather quiet. Kimiko remains with Callum while Rose is in the sitting room, perched on the couch as she stares out the window. Grell’s at the kitchen table, drinking the morning tea he offered but it’s still too quiet for Alan’s liking. He knows most of his unease comes from missing Eric already, despite the months they’ve not been able to have breakfast together. “Thank you for the tea darling.” Grell says, setting her cup down.

“You’re welcome.” Alan replies, swirling what was left of his own tea in his cup before drinking it. “Sometimes, coffee’s just a bit too strong.”

“But that’s exactly how we like our men.” she purrs, causing Alan to roll his eyes. She sits back, watching Alan go about pouring himself a second cup. She sees the tension he’s holding in his shoulders and the slight tremble of his hand as he pours the tea. Despite how she feels about Alan, she doesn’t like that she can’t tell if that tremble is from his worry or a sign the thorns are waiting just below the surface to strike again. “Alan?”

Alan pauses for a moment at the use of his full name. “What is it?”

“I, well, I want to apologise.”

Alan outright stops making his tea, immediately turning around to face her. “Apologise?”

“Yes.” she sighs, twirling a strand of red hair around her finger, “I’ve been rather unfair to you lately. I know the Thorns of Death are bastard things and it isn’t like you’ve used them as an excuse to get out of work.” she pauses for a moment, “unless you have then I take back my apology entirely."

Alan actually laughs at that, “I promise, I haven’t.”

“Then, I suppose, I am genuinely sorry for how I’ve treated you.” she runs her finger around the rim of her cup, “now taking William and Eric away form me is a whole other matter.”

Alan dramatically rolls his eyes, turning back around to finish making his tea. “And I won’t be apologising for that.”

“You won’t even tell me any of the juicy details!”

“Because it’s called a private life for a reason.” he glances over his shoulder, “but I’ll tell you one thing. William is very touchy.”

“Allie!”

Alan snickers to himself, stirring in the sugar he’d just put in. “In all seriousness, thank you, Grell. I don’t expect this to change anything between us, but the apology was nice to hear.”

“And I hope you know I won’t be making a habit of it.”

“Oh I didn’t expect you to.” he takes the first sip of his next cup of tea. “Anyway, shouldn’t you be leaving soon? It’s ten past eight and I know Eric isn’t as strict as William is when it comes to clocking in late, but he does have to take note on who does.”

She sighs in an overdramatic fashion, pushing herself up from the table. “I suppose you have a point. When Will gets back, the last thing I want to worry about is him scolding me for being tardy.” Still, she looks a little reluctant to actually leave. “Will you be alright by yourself?”

Alan nods, sipping from his cup. “I’ll be fine.” he replies, leaning against the lip of the counter. “Well, I believe I will be. A part of me doesn't quite like the idea of being alone with Kimiko and Rose, but I’ll make do.”

“At least that Rose woman seems fascinated by the…” Grell blinks, finding Rose has gone from where she’d placed herself by the window. “Nevermind. Rose may have left.”

Alan blinks. “She did?”

“Seems so.”

Alan rubs the side of his neck, his attention now where Grell is. “I didn’t hear the front door at all, did you?”

“No.”

“And we would have seen if she walked past the kitchen.”

Grell waves a dismissive hand. “Oh well. She’s a grown woman, she can go where she pleases.”

“Well, yes, but–”

“If she’s at all worried about Ronnie as she says she is, she’ll be back, I’m sure.” she shrugs, “right now, one less person for you to worry about hosting.”

“I suppose that is true.”

“Exactly! Although…” she leans closer to Alan, her eyes now trained on the hallway, “I’d suggest keeping an eye on Kimiko.”

Alan raises an eyebrow. “You would?”

“Mmhm. I went to check on Callum while you and Eric were having your little chat out on the porch and she was acting very odd. She was standing nearly as far away from him as she could get whilst staring down at him with such a bank expression on her face, as if she didn’t care a single bit about her husband’s condition.” she taps her own cheek, “now I can’t speak for everyone, but if that were Will, I’d be right at his bedside, making sure I was the first thing he’d see when he woke up.”

Alan frowns, “she’s not at all bothered by this?”

“Not a single bit. Granted, no one knows how Mr. and Mrs. Spears really are, but I never got the feeling there was trouble in paradise between them”

“Eric thought the same thing.” he taps his finger against his cup, “but like I told him, I doubt it. They seem to be, at least somewhat, happy together.”

“Well, I’d suggest keeping an eye on her.” Grell taps his cheek, “but I’ll be off now and I’ll see you after work. Ta ta darling.” she blows him a kiss and Alan watches her leave in a flourish of red.

He’s alone now.

He sighs to himself, looking at his ripping reflection in his tea. He thinks he should have gotten used to it now, but being alone never gets easier, especially when he doesn’t know how long he has left to spend his life with those that he loves.

He shakes his head, knowing the last thing he needs is to fall into those thoughts, so he finishes off his tea, puts his cup in the sink and chooses to check on Callum. He wants to see for himself how strange Kimiko is acting. Last night was already a red flag, so he worries if she's gotten worse.

He politely knocks on the bedroom door, standing there for a moment, waiting for an answer but when none comes, he knocks again. Nothing. Knocking a third time, he says, “Mrs. Spears? Kimiko? Are you still in there? I just want to check on your husband.”

The door opens only a minute after, Kimiko’s face showing her worry despite what Grell claims to have seen. “Please do. I fear as to why he’s woken up yet.”

“Well, Eric does have quite a punch, so I’m not terribly surprised Callum’s still unconscious.” he admits, offering her a smile before walking past her to check on Callum. He’s still in the same condition he saw him the last time he checked on the older reaper but there’s some colour returning to his skin, so that’s a good sign at the very least. “I’d say in a few more hours he should be awake, give or take.” he picks up Callum’s glasses he retrieved from the front garden. “At least these weren’t damaged,” he comments.

“Oh indeed. Thank you again Alan, for allowing us to stay here.”

“So long as we get the answers for the questions we’re going to ask, then of course.” he tells her, setting the glasses back down. “For now, I’ll leave you two alone. Call if you need anything.”

He leaves after that, only sparing one glance at the door as he closes it behind him. He still has a strange feeling about Kimiko but he can’t place his finger on what. Maybe it’s the distress over William’s choice to stay in Haven that has her acting oddly. After all, if he had a son who would rather stay in such a hellish town than return home with him, he can’t say he wouldn’t be bothered by it as well.

Regardless, she clearly doesn’t want to talk, so Alan goes about what he’s been doing since he was put on medical leave: housework. For the first week, he was forcefully put on bedrest by Eric but that was all the rest he agreed to, even knowing how dire his situation was. After that, he’s spent most of his time finding things to do whether that be dusting, cleaning the floors, reorganising kitchen cupboards or taking care of his many houseplants; he needed to be doing something productive. Eric suggested he pick up a book but he would much rather create a story than read one.

As the time ticks by, he’s checked on Kimiko and Callum twice more and Callum’s still out cold. He offers Kimiko something to eat, but she declines, so Alan makes himself something simple. Eggs on toast. A few times he wishes he had the culinary prowess that Eric had but most of the time, he’d much prefer waking up to his husband making breakfast in nothing but an apron.

By the time he finishes cleaning up, he deems it’s time to check on Callum again. After drying off his hands, he approaches the bedroom door only to pause when he hears voices; muffled whispers.

He opens the door, expecting to find Callum awake–instead, he’s frozen in place. Kimiko’s holding the blade of her death scythe up to Callum’s throat, her hand covering his mouth. It takes a few seconds for what he’s seeing to fully register. “Kimiko?” There’s something about her eyes that feel wrong as she glares at him.

She slowly stands up, holding her scythe tightly at her side. “I do not need a witness.”

Alan summons his own scythe. “And I’d rather not scrub blood from my bedsheets, thank you.” he narrows his eyes, trying to discern what about her is wrong. “I’d ask what’s gotten into you, but I know you won’t give me an answer.”

The snarl she lets out sounds almost hellish. “I am the one that belongs here now. I am the real one.”

That’s all she says before launching at Alan, the younger reaper barely blocking her attack with how quickly she moved. He throws her back, simultaneously pushing himself further from her but that distance doesn’t last long before Kimiko’s attacking him again with increasingly more powerful strikes. Alan defends the best he can but she doesn’t tire and before he realises it, he’s slashed deeply across his shoulder, a wound deep enough that it completely renders that entire arm useless. The pain that blossoms from the area is immense but he’s felt far worse, so he grits his teeth, using only one arm to fend her off. It’s increasingly more difficult than before and she’s slashed into his flesh a few more times–she wants him dead.

He attacks her in turn, using her fury against her as he enacts a more tactical strategy. However, what bothers him most now, is the fact she doesn’t seem to feel any pain. The wounds he gives her in turn, bothers her not; she fights as if she has no sense of self-preservation.

Then, he recalls why he was put on medical leave in the first place.

The tightness in his chest happens so fast, he barely has the time to even register what’s happening before white hot pain shoots through every limb and his vision blacks out. His scythe clatters to the floor and he drops to his knees, curling in on himself as his fingers grasp desperately at his shirt, his dead arm limp at his side. He’s trying to breathe through the torment. The woman he once knew as Kimiko stands over him, a callous expression on her face. She raises her scythe–

…

Nothing.

Alan barely musters the strength to list his head, only to flinch when her body suddenly crumbles right in front of him, a scythe spread completely through her. Her eyes are open but there’s nothing in them. Above her, Callum stands, still hunched as he’s recovering from Eric’s attack but he scowls down at the…reaper? Disdain was clear on his face. “I hoped to play along until we could find my Kimiko but you played your cards too early.”

“Ca–ah!”

Callum’s attention immediately snaps to Alan and he drops to his knees in front of the dying reaper. “Alan?” Alan’s next cry is weaker but the pain has only increased in intensity. Instantly, Callum scoops Alan into his arms. Hospital it is.

********************

Eric bursts through the hospital room door. He doesn’t need to ask where Alan is as this very room was nicknamed the “room of thorns”. He’s frantic, having slammed the phone down the moment the doctor said, “Alan has been re-admitted.” That’s all the information he needed to know. However, seeing Alan sitting upright in bed, with his arm in a sling, awake and alert, eases some of the panic. “Alan!” he’s by Alan’s bedside in a second, looking him over. “What the hell happened?!"

Alan sighs, laying his head back against the pillow. “I’m sure you can guess.”

“But yer arm?”

“That…” he briefly closes his eyes, obviously exhausted about the entire ordeal.

“Okay, okay.” Eric says more to himself than Alan, calming himself down. He sits on the edge of the bed, taking Alan’s hand into his. “How’re ye feelin’ first?”

Alan breathes in and out a few times before opening his eyes to look at Eric. “Honestly? I feel like I’ve set back all the recovery I’ve gotten but otherwise, not horrible.”

“Well, I guess we’ll take tha’.” he brings Alan’s hand up to kiss the back of it. “Right. Now, yer arm?”

“Shoulder, actually.” He leans against Eric, Eric shifting to give Alan that comfort, carefully putting his arm around Alan’s shoulders, allowing himself to hold up what little body weight Alan had. “It was Kimiko.”

“Kimiko?”

“Mmhm.” he frowns, trying to find the right words to describe what happened, but he’s not quite sure how to. “She said something about being the ‘real one’ and when Callum killed her, her eyes…it was odd. They were like a blank canvas. Nothing was on them.”

Eric blinks rapidly as he tries to understand what he’s just been told. “What the hell?”

“She was a doppelgänger, I’m afraid.” Eric looks at the door as Callum enters, carrying two take-away cups. “Alan had a feeling you’d come looking for him, so I took the liberty of buying you a coffee.”

Eric glances at the offered cup then back at Callum. “What? Poisoned it?”

“Eric.” Alan says, gently nudging him. “I understand your reservations, I do, but don’t start anything here. Please.”

Eric sighs, finally taking the cup. “Fine. I’m still pissed, but ye saved Alan’s life, so, I guess yer not a total bawbag.”

“I shall take that as some form of treaty.”

“Fer now. So long as you finally give us some fuckin’ answers.”

Callum sighs, nudging up his glasses. “I owe you those, I know.”

“Damn right ye do.” he takes the first sip from his cup, finding the coffee has a nutty taste to it. “Right, first of all. Doppelgänger?”

“Yes. I knew very quickly that my wife was replaced by one of those creatures, but having no way to prove it, or where the real Kimiko is, I chose to play along in hopes I would eventually find her. Unfortunately, that is still not the case and in my distress,” he recalls when they’d met William the second time in the streets of Haven, recalls physically striking his son where he was wounded most, “I may have pushed William further away from his family.”

“So yer a prick to yer son too. Good to know.”

“Eric.” Alan says again, “please.”

“No, Alan. He’s correct. Regardless of my own emotional state, I never treated William well. Both his mother and I raised him with little affections, something I have regretted to this day.”

Alan frowns, nuzzling a little closer to Eric, feeling how tense the older reaper is. “I think you’ll need to start from the beginning and I want you to tell us all of it.”

Callum looks away from the two, choosing to lean against the wall and stare out the slightly dusty window. This was why this room was specifically chosen for Alan, for in hopes, if Alan were to pass away in that very room, he’d at least get to see the outside world one last time. “I suppose I should.” he sips from his own cup, clearly searching for the right way to begin, until he just decides to start, “I had known Rebecca since we were children, although we were never friends. Her family and mine were acquaintances and if we crossed paths, we were civil. Of course, over time, we began learning more about each other and I eventually told her that Kimiko–”

“Kimiko?” Eric interrupts. “You two told Alan and I that it was my da’ that introduced ye to her.”

Callum frowns. “Ah yes. We did.”

“So, ye were lyin’?”

Callum sips from his cup again, prolonging the answer, “the story Kimiko and I told you, was the story we agreed to tell you if we ever met.”

Eric just sits there for a moment, letting that sink in before he needs to stand and pace, working out his anger instead of knocking Callum unconscious again. “So that entire story was a lie. Why? Just so ye two wouldn’t feel like shit knowing ye killed my parents? Did ye want me to trust ye? Like ye?”

“I understand your anger, Eric. I do, but may I finish? I assure you, those questions will be answered.”

“How do I know yer not lyin’ now?”

“Because I have no reason to.”

“Let’s let him finish.” Alan says, holding out his hand to Eric. “Come here.”

Eric listens without hesitation, taking his place back by Alan and taking Alan’s hand, his other still tight around his coffee cup. “Fine. But if I get even a whiff that ye lyin’ to us, yer gonna be in this hospital."

Callum nods. “Understood.” he straightens his back, turning his attention back to the window. “Now, as I was saying. I told Rebecca that Kimiko and I could not start the family we both wanted. Unfortunately, it was a curse that plagued the both of us, rendering having any biological child to be nothing but a dream.”

“Then, is William adopted?” Alan asks.

“No. He is our flesh and blood.” he shifts uncomfortably, a sign to Eric that he really is telling the truth. “There was a terrible tragedy in our realm, one the Board wiped from the realm’s history. Still, I’ll ask, have you two ever heard of the Demon Scout that broke through our barriers and levelled an entire town?”

“There was?!” Alan swallows. “I…I’ve never heard of that.”

“Neither have I.” Eric agrees. “Course the Board would make sure that event isn’t widely known among the realm.”

“It was a failure on their part. It was a weakness in the barrier that was reported time and time again and they did nothing about it. Thus, the Scout. Kimiko fought against it, whittling it down until reinforcements arrived to help but during that slaughter, Rebecca’s son was killed.” he shakes his head. “She was devastated. It destroyed her and she was never the same woman after that. She became bitter and her hatred for the Board rivaled any of ours." He looks back to them, “that is why she made a deal with a demon.”

“Demon…?”

“Yes. She told me she made a deal with a demon that promised her a safe place to raise a family and at first, I thought she lost her mind completely. Trusting a demon like that was bound to end in nothing but death and then, she told me, that if Kimiko and I went with her, if we joined this town she created, a town she named Haven, then we could have our very own child. We could finally start the family we so desperately wanted.”

“And Kimiko went along with that?”

“I never told her it was a demon. Instead, I told her it was going to be a gift from the Board. An apology for what they allowed to happen.”

“So ye lied to yer wife too. Right, the more ye talk, the more I want to knock you out again.” Eric growls out, “yer a piece of work.”

“I know.” Callum admits. “Beleive me Slingby, I know. I am not proud of what I have done or the lies I have told.”

“Tell us more.” Alan speaks up, running his hand up and down Eric’s arm. “What else can you tell us?”

Callum nudges up his glasses again, breathing out slowly. “I can tell you that the only condition upon entering that town, upon signing the contract and being given the opportunity to have a child, was to sacrifice our first born son.”

Eric grits his teeth. “So ye were just gonna offer Will up? No questions asked? Fuck, ye signed a damn contract knowing that?!”

“It was not ideal, no and we held off starting a family until we could convince ourselves that it would be for the best. Rebecca soon entrusted Kimiko and I to be her enforcers, so to speak. She gave me work as the principal of the elementary school while Kimiko worked as a teacher, freely able to discipline any student. It was not how we expected our lives to go, but at the time, it was better than it was." He looks solely at Eric now, his cold eyes softening, “and then, we met your family, Eric.”

“Ye…met them in Haven?”

“Yes, but I assure you, it was not a choice they made willingly. Your father was being hunted by demons for outing one of their nests in Glasgow and Rebecca offered them safety.”

“My da’ was bein’ hunted?”

“Yes and Haven was his only choice to keep you and your mother, safe.”

“They didn’t care about the sacrifice?”

“They were not told of it.” Callum corrects. “Rebecca purposefully kept that clause hidden until they signed the contract. I was the one to tell them that, once you turned ten, you would be given up as a sacrifice to what Rebecca, and the town, liked to call the Star.” he breathes out then drains the rest of his coffee, “they were horrified to learn they signed you away and looking back now, I know Kimiko and I would have had the same reaction. As it was, we were slowly taken by the Star and the town. Our morals were warping, our very sense of self was beginning to feel like we deserved nothing from Haven unless we offered our first born like everyone else had.” He removes his glasses to rub his eyes. “William would have been a miracle if not for Haven’s influence.” To Callum's credit, there did appear to be some moisture gathering in his eyes, “when he was born, and we held him for the first time, Haven changed that connection. We felt no love, no compassion, no desire to keep our son safe. All we saw him as, was a place holder until we could have our real child." He stares back out the window, holding his glasses tightly in his hand, “as he grew older, he understood that we did not care for him like we should have and he became desperate. He did anything for us and slowly, I could see Kimiko growing fonder and fonder of William until I reminded her that he was a gift for our Star.” he exhales slowly, licking his dry lips, “and then, Eric, your parents left Haven.”

“And you killed them.”

“Allow me to finish." He replaces his glasses on his nose. “Rebecca told Kimiko and I to find them, to punish them as the Star demanded but once we left Haven to do as we were told, the influence over use began to wane and the longer we spent outside of that town, we began to realise what we were sent to do. Instead of going to kill them, we wanted to warn them, tell them they needed to flee as far away from Haven as possible, and yet, they were already dead when we found them.”

“Bullshit.”

“I swear to you Eric, I am telling you the truth.”

Eric wants to continue calling Callum a liar but the eye contact makes it hard to get those words off his tongue. The longer Callum keeps that contact, the more Eric can see how genuine he’s being, “you’re…you’re tellin’ me you… didn’t kill them?”

“No. They broke their contract and the Star punished them for it.”

Eric glances at Alan’s hand still held in his own. “I…I dunno if I can believe that.”

“I will not beg you to change your mind, but that is the honest truth. I promise.”

Alan squeezes Eric’s hand, wishing he had use of his other hand to hug Eric to him, seeing the turmoil swirling inside his husband’s mind, “what happened after?” he asks, letting Eric have a moment to think.

“When we returned to Haven, we received word William was in hospital and when we arrived, we were told he was attacked by another student, although they wouldn’t say who. The wound was directly from the nape of his neck down his entire spine and we were told he may never walk again. Even if he did, he would need to continue to take specially prescribed pain medication.” the world changes in Callum’s mind. Instead of Eric and Alan, he sees his five year old son lain up in the hospital bed, attached to various machines, his breathing coming in short spurts, pain etched upon his face. “Seeing William like that, knowing he was only being treated because he needed to live until his tenth birthday, not even considered a being of his own, something snapped in us and we finally saw the horror we were putting our son through.”

“Fuck…” Eric whispers, able to sympathise when he looks at his husband. “How…how did ye two escape?”

“Right then and there, Kimiko and I made the choice to take him away just like your parents did. I told Rebecca we would travel, seek out other reapers to join Haven to increase the power and strength of the town. She allowed it and we left, moving to Japan, knowing we needed to get as far away from Haven as possible since we, essentially, smuggled William out.” His shoulders shudder as he sighs, like the weight of finally telling the truth has lifted, “from then on, we tried to be better parents. I know we were not the best, that Haven still influenced how we cared for him, but we wanted to make up for our mistake.”

“I…” Eric’s at a loss for words.

Alan continues to rub Eric’s arm before saying to Callum, “can we have a moment alone?”

Callum stands as he nods. “Of course. I’ll be tending to the doppelgänger’s body and disposing of it.” he nods again, this time to Alan, “I give you my best wishes.”

“Thank you.” When Callum leaves, Alan gives Eric his full attention.” How are you feeling?”

Eric just shrugs. “I dunno.”

“Take your time luv. I’m here for you.” Alan promises. Eric sets the coffee cup on the side table by the bed, blinking multiple times, Alan seeing tears glistening in Eric’s eyes. “Eric.”

“Alan…”

Alan gestures for Eric to come closer and once Eric does, Alan pulls him down for a hug, using his only arm to wrap tightly around Eric’s shoulders. Eric presses his face into the crook of Alan’s neck and shoulder, his own arms wrapping around Alan’s small body, being careful of his injured arm. Alan lays his head against Eric’s, letting the older reaper process his emotions in supportive silence. It would take some time for Eric to understand what he was just told, was the full and honest truth.

********************

Ronald’s never been on the receiving end of William’s silent fury but now seeing how he outright glares at his mother, he’s entirely grateful he never has. That metaphorical fire looks almost like it could physically manifest in William’s eyes; his jaw is tight, his shoulders are square and his back is as straight as he can make it without causing too much pain. Kimiko, on the other hand, is standing across from him, her head bowed and hands folded in front of her, awaiting her son's judgement upon the story they were just told. “That’s it then? You’re going to blame the town’s influence right after you told me you agreed to the terms on your own.”

“We did, yes.”

“And what? You expect me to forgive you? To put this behind us and allow you two to start over?”

“No.” Kimiko lifts her head, “I do not expect that at all.”

“Then what do you want, mother?”

“To be a part of your life.”

Admittedly, that causes William to pause. “Excuse me?”

Kimiko holds William's eyes, trying to appear as genuine as she can. “Your father and I have not treated you very kindly and whether you believe it or not, we have regretted that for years. After Haven, we truly did try to rectify that, to become proper parents but I know we failed. When you left us, when you moved to London and essentially cut all contact with us, we were broken, yet, we knew trying to sway you to come home would only do more damage for you, just like Callum and I, have quite a hard head. You chose to leave us and we wanted to respect your choice, even if it never seemed like it.”

William shifts slightly, his eyes becoming a little less harsh. “Get to the point then.”

“All Callum and I really want, is our son in our life again. You know the truth, the full truth, there’s no reason for Callum or I to keep that distance anymore.” she glances at Ronald, “even if you love him, that will not change our own love for you.”

Both Ronald and William’s faces flush red, William turning his head away, Ronald awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck. “I’d ask you to refrain from using that word, mother. Thank you.”

Kimiko frowns. “Am I wrong?”

William rapidly adjusts his glasses, trying to fight off the heat on his face, “it’s…it’s a bit soon.”

Kimiko blinks then slowly understands, “ah. You’ve not said it yet.”

“No…”

“Then, my apologies. With what I’ve observed, I assumed you two were already quite serious.”

“I mean, maybe?” Ronald swallows. “If…if, erm, if it gets to be, I wouldn’t, y’know, mind.”

William takes a deep breath, clearly not wanting this conversation to take the turn it did any longer. “Regardless, is that really what you want? For you two just to be in my life again?”

“Yes.” She answers it so honestly and so quickly, William knows she’s being truthful. “There does not need to be forgiveness, nor do you need to forget, but if we can rebuild some form of relationship with you, then that is all your father and I want.”

William takes his eyes off her again, searching the floor instead. “I cannot give you an answer yet.” he tells her. “After all I’ve heard, I may never.”

Kimiko nods, “and we will respect that.”

Ronald runs his hand over the tops of William’s shoulders, feeling the slight tremble in them. He knows this conversation is important, but William’s clearly trying to stave off the pain from earlier that’s working its way back up his spine. “Why don’t you lay down, Will? You’re in pain again. I can tell.”

Ronald’s right. The burning on his back has returned, not to a debilitating degree like it had in the clocktower, but he knows if he doesn’t rest now, tomorrow, he doubts he’ll even be able to walk. “I suppose you have a point.” he concedes.

Ronald stands up and William carefully adjusts himself to lay down, wincing at even the slightest tilt of his spine. “Comfy?” Ronald asks, taking off William’s glasses and putting them on the coffee table.

“I suppose as I’ll ever be.” William mutters, closing his eyes.

“Then sleep Will.” he leans back down, leaving a quick peck on William’s lips, “we’ll be here when you wake up.” William doesn’t fight off the wave of sleep that quickly washes over him and as Ronald leans back up, he’s not at all surprised that William’s already out. He smiles then, gently touching William’s hand. “Hope you feel better t’morrow."

“I will carry the guilt I feel for allowing him to receive such an injury for however long I may live.” Kimiko whispers, standing next to Ronald.

“Well, yeah. I mean, I’d feel the same way.” he gestures with his head toward the other room, “let’s talk where we won’t wake him.”

Kimiko follows Ronald to the next room where William’s still clearly in both their sights, Ronald especially knowing what might happen if he loses track of William again. “I must ask you, Mr. Knox. You are truly William’s lover?”

Ronald nods without hesitation. “Yeah. I am. We’ve been through a lot here and he’s shown me time and time again that he cares about me just as much as I’ve learned to care about him.”

“And will this last outside of Haven? Will this be able to last through the mundane paperwork and copious amounts of overtime? Will this last if he has to give his attention more to his work than to you?”

Kimiko is watching him carefully, searching to pick up on any lie he will tell her. She knows what happened between Alan and William and even if she had not been the best mother, she clearly still wants the best for her son. “It will.” Ronald assures her. “I know it’s gonna be a different environment, that we’re not gonna be fighting for our lives and the adrenaline won’t keep a fire lit, but I know, I really do, that what I feel for Will isn’t somethin’ that’s gonna end here.” he breathes out, looking at William, “I’ve had a lot of relationships that didn’t survive the mundane because we thought we needed excitement, but now I know that I needed someone who’s gonna balance me out. Someone that'll help keep me on the straight and narrow, y’know? And Will, he does that. He’s been my biggest comfort here and I know, in the mundane world, he’ll be my biggest comfort there too.”

Kimiko surveys him again, her eyes searching his, for even the barest hint of a lie but when she finds none, she holds out her hand, Ronald taking it and she folds that hand between her own. “I cannot speak for Callum, but as of now, I see what my son means to you and what you mean to him. I know William will do what he wishes without caring what his father or I think, but I believe you’re going to be good for William as well and I wish for you to have my blessing to continue to see him.”

Ronald blinks, staring at her then at their hands. It feels…odd. He’s met a handful of parents of his lovers and maybe it’s because William’s parents are old fashioned, but having approval from William’s mother oddly means a lot to him. “T-Thanks.” he smiles, “and I promise, I’ll make sure Will takes care of himself for as long as he lets me nag at him.”

Kimiko smiles in turn, squeezing his hand. “I hadn’t a doubt that you would.” she looks at William herself, “I hope one day, he will be able to forgive us. I know we’ve never made his life easy, but I hope, at some point, he will allow us the chance to make things right.”

“Part of me thinks he will.”

“Thank you Ronald.” She squeezes his hand one last time before letting go. “May I ask if you’d forgive your own mother?”

Ronald scoffs. “Like she’d ever apologise.”

“You never know.”

“She made a pact with a demon to create this place. No offence, but I don’t think she’s gonna apologise after doin’ all that.” He shoves his hands into his pockets, thinking for a moment, “you know, it’s weird to think about, but if Haven didn’t exist, I wouldn’t either. Neither would Will and Eric’s parents would probably still be alive and he’d still be in Scotland. He wouldn’t have met Alan.”

Kimiko touches his arm. “I suppose things happen for a reason then.”

Ronald sighs. “Yeah. I guess they do.” he shakes his head. “There are still things about Haven I don’t understand. So, maybe you can answer some of my questions?”

“I will try my best to do so.”

“Okay, great. So, first of all, doppelgängers. Do you know how they work?”

“I do not, no. All I know is this town creates imprints, echos even, of all its residents. Why? I cannot say.”

Ronald frowns. “Right.” he crosses his arms. “Then, do you know anything about my dad? Andrew, I think.”

Kimiko sighs. “Yes. Callum and I knew Andrew but we only ever interacted with him briefly. He was friendly but rather quiet. It felt as if he was afraid to speak out of turn, or say something Rebecca wouldn’t like. As Callum told me, the father of Rebecca’s first born was certainly not this Andrew and I began to wonder if Andrew even was a father to her children, or if he was just a place holder.”

Ronald licks his lower lip, swallowing. “So…Andrew might not be my real dad?”

“Again, I can’t say for certain. While Rebecca grew to like the company of Callum and I, she kept her personal life close to her chest.” Ronad’s stomach drops. If there was a chance Andrew wasn’t his real father, then that means there was also a chance he could really be part…demon? He feels the colour rush from his face and Kimiko takes notice of his suddenly pallid expression. “Are you alright?”

He swallows again. “Yeah. Yeeeeah. Fine. Just, you know, a lot to wrap my head around.” There was no way he’d tell a notorious demon hunter that he could be related to one of those creatures. He just hopes William would stick to his word if he was. “Is there anything else we should know about Haven before we try to put any real plan into place?”

“The Haven I knew is no longer thus I cannot tell you much of anything about this one.”

“Then, I have one more question.”

“Go ahead then.”

“If you and Callum lived in Haven for as long as you did, how did you two end up so favoured by the Board?”

Kimiko’s eyes darken but she also seemed prepared for the eventual question. “Some of it was because of that demon that broke through our realm. The Board honoured me for killing it and Callum, well, he was the one to tell the Board about Haven.”

Ronald blinks. “So they…know?”

“They do.”

“And they never did anything?”

“So long as Haven never disrupted any of their rulings, it would be allowed to continue to exist. As far as we are aware, they’ve never done anything to it or even interacted with it. Not even once Haven fell to become this cursed place.”

Ronald rubs the back of his neck. “They know and they did nothin’ about it. No wonder you two and Will don’t have that trust in the Board.”

“Their priorities are to themselves, not their reapers.”

“Yeah, I see that.” He rubs the back of his neck. He’s beginning to feel his own exhaustion, covering a yawn with his hand. “Sorry.”

“You must be tired as well. It sounds like it’s been quite a long day.”

“Yeah. Yeah, it has.”

“There is a bedroom upstairs you and William may use. I’m sure that would be far more comfortable than a couch or the floor.”

“Ooo, yeah a bed sounds really nice.” Ronald returns to William’s side, gently pushing on his shoulder and William’s eyelids flutter open, immediately squinting as he lacks his spectacles. “Hey Will,” he smiles, “sorry to wake you, but your mum says there’s a bed we can use. Y’know, somethin’ that’s gonna be way more comfortable than this.”

“Mm…yes, a bed does sound more appealing.” William agrees, offering his hand to Ronald.

Ronald takes it and helps William sit up, then helps him to stand, throwing William’s arm around his shoulders, “where are you gonna sleep?” he asks Kimiko.

“I will take the couch.” she replies. “Now go, both of you.” Ronald picks up William’s glasses and helps William walk toward the stairs, the older clearly wanting nothing more than to return to his sleep, not that Ronald can blame him. The longer he stays awake, the more exhausted he’s beginning to feel.

There’s a knock at the door.

Immediately, all three of their attention is brought to the door. William’s wide awake now, Ronald offering him his glasses to which he instantly puts them on. “I would suggest we do not open it.” he says, lowering his voice to a whisper.

“I’m gonna agree with Will on that.” whispers Ronald, a chill running down his spine.

A second knock.

“They are persistent.” Kimiko comments.

“Mother, come with Knox and I upstairs. I’d rather none of us be alone.” Kimiko looks back to William and Ronald then to the door. “Mother.”

“Hold a moment.”

A third knock.

“Mother, please. Do not answer that door.”

“C’mon, let’s just go upstairs and pretend we’re not home.” Ronald tries to plead, gesturing rapidly for her to follow them. Yet, Kimiko does not listen. There’s something that tells her that she should open it, despite the pleas of her son and his partner.

She approaches the door and before either of them can beg her again not to open it, she does and to Ronald’s horrified surprise, the being that stands there is Rose. He stands frozen there, eyes wide and it takes only a second for her eyes to land on him and when they do, she smiles almost too sweetly. “Ronald, my dear, darling, boy. I’ve finally found you.”

Chapter Text

Whatever exhaustion William felt previously, banishes the moment Rose speaks. Immediately, he slots himself in front of Ronald, eyes locked on Rose as if he’s expecting her to be able to rip Ronald away from them with just a snap of her fingers. He doesn’t need to ask who this is as her appearance is far too similar to both Rebecca and Ronald. “What do you want?” he demands, ready to throw her back out that door if he needs to.

To her credit, she does genuinely look hurt when she hears how unwelcomed she is. “I understand there’s been truths told and I would like to talk to you, Ronald, in order to tell you my own.”

Ronald’s fingers wrap tightly around William’s bicep, clearly expecting the same thing William was. However, the way Kimiko positions herself to be another barrier for him does put him a little more at ease. “Yeah? You expect me to believe anything you’re gonna say? Expect me to leave them behind him?”

“And I do assure you, Rose, that it will not just be William you would need to get through in order to get your hands on Ronald.” Kimiko assures, William barely concealing the surprise on his face. Then her apology was genuine? She was being genuine with him for once?

Rose sighs, her eyes remaining strictly on Ronald. “No. I do not want to take him away from those he’s grown attached to. I promise.”

“Don’t believe that.” Ronald continues, “don’t believe anythin’ you’re gonna say or even what you’re sayin’ right now.”

“Would you at least give me a chance?”

William glances back at Ronald, recalling everything the younger reaper told him about the woman who raised him. He has no intention of allowing Rose anywhere near Ronald, however, Kimiko is not fully aware of what Rose has done and she, despite it only being slight, steps aside. “So long as you speak to Ronald with William and I present.”

“Mother.” William snaps through gritted teeth, “that is a horrible idea. Even with you and I present, I have no doubt she’ll try to feed all of us only more lies.”

“I believe she deserves to be heard out.” Kimiko counters, locking eyes with William. “As you did with I.”

“But…” Ronald swallows, dreading the conversation to come, knowing William’s right. Rose spent his entire life making him feel like an inferior son to everyone around them, outright telling him her life would be better without him taking up space.

“Please Ronald. May we talk?” Rose pleads, sounding far too innocent for what she’s done.

William looks back at Ronald again, fully turning to him as he lowers his voice, “you needn’t to if you don’t want to.” William promises, “you don’t owe her anything.”

Ronald breathes out slowly. He doesn’t, but, and he’s not sure if it’s Haven using its influence, the idea of talking to her starts to instill some hope that maybe he can get the apology he’s owed, “I…I’ll listen to her, but, don’t leave my side, okay?”

William nods, a sharp, decisive movement. “I won’t.”

“Then fine.” Ronald says to Rose, holding his head high. “What do you gotta say?”

“May we speak somewhere more comfortable?” Rose suggests.

“Nope. I’m good right here.” Ronald says, happy to keep that distance.

A choice, he learns very quickly, was the right one.

Within seconds, the door slams open–a harsh, strong gush of wind shatters the windows and throws Rose off her feet. Ronald stumbles backwards, almost tripping over the stairs, William clutching tightly to the railing as Kimiko does. Ronald barely has the strength to lean forward with the force of the wind pushing on them, his fingers barely able to curl in the fabric of William’s shirt on his shoulders. His wide eyes are locked on the destruction outside; a whirlwind of leaves, branches and debris spins violently through the air, crashing against the house. The world outside is even darker than before, the fog twisting into tendrils, fingers that pry into every crevice. The storm howls in the distance, sounding like screeching demons, shattering more glass and splintering wood. 

He watches in horror as a tree, a massive oak, is ripped from the ground and flung through the air like a toy. Its gnarled roots exposed and withering; the wind a malevolent force, tearing at the siding of the house, peeling it away. The entire structure groans and shudders, Ronald certain it’ll be torn to shreds at any moment. “What’s happening?!”

William forces himself forward, each step feeling like he’s fighting for any distance. He leans down, ignoring the ache that’s consuming him, helping Rose to her feet and pushing her out of the way of the pounding wind. 

He hears it too, the approaching cries. 

He grits his teeth, forcing himself even further against the storm until he’s able to grab the edge of the door, using what was left of his strength to forcefully shut it, pressing his entire weight against it. He can barely find the purchase on the floor, the wind slamming against the wood with a strength that is definitely not natural. “The demon!” William guesses, barely able to hear himself think over the howling screams.

Ronald throws himself down the stairs, pressing his weight against the door next to William, helping to keep it closed. “What do we do?!”

Rose swallows, pushing herself properly to her feet. “There’s nothing we can do.”

Kimiko takes a quick gander around the area then notices the door to the basement through the kitchen. She takes Ronald’s arm then, throwing him away from the door to take his place next to William to keep the door forcefully closed shut, “the basement!" she tells them, “it should be safe there!”

Ronald’s heart is hammering against his ribs, “basment?!” Basement, that’s right. The secret shrine be damned, that's really the only safe place right now. “Let’s go!”

William swallows, pressing ever harder against the door, Kimiko and him thrown from it once before slamming back against it. “You need to go as well mother!” WIlliam tells her.

“I think not!”

“Someone needs to keep this door shut!”

“Put somethin’ in front of it!” Ronald shouts; all of them wince when the screeching feels like it physically pierces through their skulls.

“There’s no time for a barricade! Go!” William insists.

“I am not leaving!” Kimiko protests.

Rose is the one to grab Kimiko and pull her from the door, forcing her toward the basement, “we must go. We must go!”

Ronald sees Kimiko struggling against Rose, the wind pounding through the windows making it harder for her to break through. “William!”

Ronald wants to stay as well but even before he can open his mouth, William glares at him, “go!”

“But–!”

“Knox! Go!”

Ronald fights with himself, wincing again as the demon screech feels like it ruptures something in his mind. His lower lip trembles but it’s clear there’s only one correct choice. He grabs William’s face and holds it still as he kisses him; it’s a deep kiss, conveying all the emotions they haven’t had time to talk about yet. “Promise me I’ll see you after this!” William doesn’t need to make a promise; it’s already a given.

Ronald forces himself to follow the other two, despite keeping his head turned to watch William struggle.

The demon is approaching.

Then for a split second, it’s still again.

The moment Ronald’s turned to close the basement door, it’s like an explosion. Everything breakable in the home shatters and Ronald’s thrown down the basement stairs as the wind slams the door shut behind him, a painfully loud BANG echoing in his ears. 

…

…

The world spins as he opens his eyes, blinking multiple times to pull the world around him into focus. He groans, feeling the throbbing on his back from the fall. “Ronald!” Kimiko gasps, immediately helping him sit up. “Are you alright?”

He groans again, rubbing the back of his head. “I think, yeah.” he stares at the door at the top of the stairs, “what…happened?”

“You’ve been unconscious for a few minutes.” she replies, stroking back his bangs.

Ronald frowns, trying to shake away the dizziness he’s still feeling. “What happened with the demon? Where’s Will?”

“It’s still not safe up there.” Rose tells them. “The demon still searches for us.” she gestures to the single, slim window at the top of the basement wall and the wind still howls outside.

Ronald frowns, his attention still on the stairs, “Will…”

Kimiko carries the same worry he does, her own anxiety manifesting as she holds Ronald close as if he’s William himself. “Why has this happened all of a sudden?”

“The demon knows we are here.” Rose explains. “We are a part of his blood. He demands our return.”

Immediately, he feels Kimiko’s arms loosen around him. “A part of his blood?”

Ronald pushes himself away from Kimiko, focuses solely on Rose, “cut the shit then. Does that mean we’re demons too?”

Rose sighs, some relief washing over him as she shakes her head. “We are not demons, no. At least, not entirely.”

And that dashes any relief. “Entirely?”

“You and I are a part of him, a part of Haven, but we are not him. We are creations."

Ronald immediately claps his hands together, staring down at his arms before turning them over and staring at the underneath of them. “Cre…ations?”

“Yes. The demon saw how lonely Rebecca was after she lost her son and created me to be her sister, created me to support her. When Rebecca continued to mourn over her lost child, the demon then chose to raise that very son from the dead, a child you, I’m sure, have heard of. Ronan.”

“Ronan was a creation?” Kimiko asks, sounding as dumbfounded as Ronald feels.

“The Ronan you know is, yes. The only caveat to his resurrection was his inability to age and the demon, believing that reapers are inferior to him, resurrected him with demon blood thus why your son, Kimiko, was afflicted with a demon’s poison when Ronan attacked him.” she looks back at Ronald, “you were created to be the sacrifice instead of Ronan.”

Ronald swallows. “So, does that mean I’m not…real?”

“You are real but you are not a conventional reaper.”

“Ha. Great.” he searches the ground, wrapping his head around what he's just heard. “Then, why did you take me away?”

“Because, despite the demon creating me to be her sister, I must have received some of her consciousness because I soon became aware of how wrong all of Haven was. I took you in some hope you could find your own way, become something more than a sacrifice.”

“By treating me like a servant?! By making sure I knew the path you forced me to follow?! By making me feel utterly worthless no matter what I did for you!?” he snaps his attention to Kimiko, “no wonder Will doesn’t like you two either! I get it now! Everyone from Haven is destined to be horrible parents!”

Kimiko frowns because she knows Ronald’s right. “Yes. I suppose that is true.”

Rose shares Kimiko’s sentiment, lowering her head in apology. “I understand my methods were unconventional, but I hoped, if I pushed you far enough away, you would never search out answers for your past or return to Haven.” she looks at Kimiko, “it appears, however, no matter what I did, you were always destined to return here.”

“Are you insinuating William willingly took him here?” Kimiko snaps, defensive, just as Ronald is.

“Haven saw a chance to take back two of the families that escaped it.” Rose replies, “as far as I was told, him and Ronald were together when Haven summoned them.”

Ronald’s fingers curl into fists. “We were together, yeah. He picked me up when I was left behind by some pricks at a party. He was tryin’ to be nice to me.” The immediate look of disapproval from both mothers makes him shy away and quickly try to switch subjects, “forget I said that.” he groans, waving his hand as if that could wipe their memory. “Then what about Oliver?”

Now that has Rose titling her head in confusion. “Oliver?”

Ronald slowly blinks. “Yeah. Oliver. My younger brother?”

“You have no other brother.”

Ronald’s jaw goes slack. “But…he’s been with us. He’s been helping us. Will’s really taken to the kid.” There was even that family picture with Oliver in it. If Oliver wasn’t his brother, why was he there?

“I’m sorry Ronald, but there is no Oliver.”

Ronald doesn’t like the insinuation of that but he won’t say anything right now. Instead, he pulls his knees close to his chest, listening to the howling wind that’s still barreling through the house. He needs to see William coming down those stairs soon or he’s going to get William himself. “How did you get here?” he asks Rose. “We were told Haven had hotspots that only opened at eight and they only lasted that minute.”

“We are from Haven. We do not abide by those terms.”

“So…so I coulda got Will and I outta here sooner?!”

“I’m afraid it would only be yourself.”

Ronald pouts. “I woulda stayed anyway then.” he nibbles at the tip of his thumbnail. “How about everyone else on the other side? Are they okay?”

“As far as I’m aware, yes. They are. Your friends are terribly worried about you. They’ve been looking nonstop for the both of you.” that does get Ronald to smile briefly. He knows it’s silly, but hearing his friends really did care as much as he hoped they did, lifts his spirits a bit. 

“What of Callum?” Kimiko asks. “Is he alright?”

“I suppose he will be.”

Kimiko’s eyes widened slightly. “ Will be?” Rose goes on to tell her of the fight she witnessed between Eric and Callum, her face growing more and more surprised until she’s outright covering her mouth with her hands. “Attacked?” she blinks, looking down at the floor, slowly lowering her hands. “I suppose, in Eric’s eyes, all he might have known was we were sent to murder his family.”

“I mean, not the first guy Eric’s knocked out.” Ronald says. “He packs a wicked punch, especially when he’s angry.”

“So I hear.” She shifts up to her knees, straightening out her shirt. “I await the day Callum and I will be able to talk to him properly and explain what’s really happened between us and his family.” she twists her wedding ring around her finger, “although, it pains me to know Callum did not realise I was not me.”

“I don’t think that’s entirely true.” Ronald tells her. “When I saw the fake you with Callum, I think he could tell there was somethin’ wrong with you. Or…her, I guess.”

“He did?”

“Yeah.”

That eases some of her worries, folding her hands against her chest. “I would hope my husband would know when I am not me.”

“Well, don’t worry. Seems like he did.” he lowers his defenses a bit. Maybe William is not willing to forgive his parents anytime soon, but Kimiko, at least, sounds genuinely apologetic for what her and Callum did and when, when , William returned, he wanted to be on some good ground with them. “Y’know, Mrs. Spears, I gotta ask. What did Mr. Spears tell you about Haven because you were clearly really surprised to learn it was a demon that made this place.”

Her face switches again, disappointed in herself that she believed the lie her husband told her. “He told me it was a test the Board was conducting. He told me they created another version of their realm with stronger protection to prevent another tear. In my desperation to even have the chance for a child, I chose to believe him, even if his story felt wrong.”

“Desperation will lead you to believe quite a number of things.” Rose agrees.

“Yeah…I guess so.” Ronald keeps his eyes on the door at the top of the stairs, needing to see William open it. He doesn’t like that they left William up there, especially with his back as injured as it is but Kimiko was right. William was stubborn. Unless Ronald could muster the strength to pull William through the powerful wind, William was staying put.

And then.

The door opens.

William all but throws himself inside, slamming the door shut behind him, the wind itself making it even easier. “Will!” Ronad cries, jumping to his feet, “you’re okay!”

“For now.” William replies, a strain in his voice as he slowly makes his way down the stairs. “I was able to find a few things to block the door since the winds calm down just a bit.”

Ronald greets him at the bottom of the stairs, letting William use him as support, “as long as you’re okay.” Ronald assures him, helping him sit down next to Kimiko. “How’s your back?”

“Managble, for now.” he answers despite the wince.

Ronald continues to cling to William, continues to cling to the idea that William won’t leave him. After what Rose said, he fears William will go back on his word, that it really would matter to William what he was. Sure, he may not have been a demon but he’s still a form of… something that isn’t entirely reaper.

The way WIlliam holds him in turn is a little more comforting but that new knowledge gnaws at the back of his mind…but, that was a good thing, wasn’t it? This was never meant to be something long term. Despite what he told Kimiko, despite what he said to William, this was something that couldn’t last. “Will you be alright?” Kimiko asks, forcefully holding herself back from doting on William.

“I will be, yes.” he promises, sounding a little too sure. “I just need a moment to catch my breath.”

“Then take it easy, okay?” Ronald says, resting his hands on William’s shoulders to massage them. “Try to relax.”

William breathes deep, leaning slightly into the massage. “If you continue, I will not have an issue doing so.” He allows himself to lean back enough to avoid injuring his back, but as his half-lidded eyes scan over the room, there’s something he recalls just beyond that wall. “On another note, mother, since we’re stuck down here for the time being,” he turns just enough to gesture to the seemingly innocuous brick wall, “those shrines. What do you know about them?”

“They were built into every home. They were silent guardians, watching over the inhabitants.”

“Being sure they followed whatever rhetoric that demon and Rebecca imposed?”

“Yes.”

William exhales slowly, “I now see why Eric’s parents were slain so brutally then. I doubt they had anything kind to say about the two higher powers here.”

“Ah so you must have told them what you and your husband did.” Rose states.

Kimiko sits up straighter, folding her hands tensely in her lap. “What we were sent to do, yes, but we never laid a hand on Ava or Ivor. We wanted to warn them.”

“Seems you didn’t do a very good job of that.”

“I don’t think you have the right to criticise my mother.” William cuts in. “Nor my father. They were poor parents, yes, but I believe her when she tells me they did not murder the Slingby family.”

“And yet, they still witnessed, attended and assisted with the annual sacrifice.” Rose reminds him, “murder is too kind for what they’ve done.”

“And you were a saint? You belonged to this town as well, didn’t you? Don’t try acting as if you’re morally above them.”

“I took Ronald away from Haven.”

“Perhpas, but I’m sure you did nothing to stop the children before he was born.”

“Created.” Rose corrects, Ronald’s hands freezing on William’s shoulders. “Ronald was a creation of this town meaning I had more to lose than just my life. The demon that created us, could have very well wiped us clean from the very slate of his world.”

“Created.” William echoes and it’s the both the awe and disbelief in his voice as he says it that has Ronald gripping tighter to William’s shoulders.

“Can we talk about that later? When it’s just you and me?” Ronald quietly pleads, feeling like he needs to get ahead of whatever Rose is going to say.

“He deserves to know what you are, Ronald. Especially if you wish to continue to see him,” Rose turns her head, offering an unwanted comment, “although I don't understand why you’d want to.”

“You must forgive Ronald for carving his own path through his life.” William retaliates, “and it does not matter to me what Ronald is. So long as he wishes to be with me, I will continue to be with him as well.”

“You say that so confidently.” Rose sounds off put by it, the side of her lip curling in near distaste. “I’m sure you wouldn’t be saying that if he were a demon.”

Willam tightens his jaw. “Even if he were, I would not change my mind. Unlike the woman that raised him, I know who Ronald is as a person and nothing would ever make me change my mind about him.” Ronald is at a complete loss for words, grip going slack as William’s words sink in. He always assumed, despite how convincing William was, that he would never be true to those words he said before, that none of it matter, that Ronald would always be a reaper to him, but just hearing him double down on that in front of his own mother, let alone Rose, almost brings tears to his eyes.
Rose on the other hand, quirks an eyebrow, looking unimpressed by William’s declaration. “I cannot decide if you’re brave, or stupid.”

William glances at Ronald, studying his eyes before looking toward her again. “It doesn’t matter to me. All I know, is that I plan to keep treating Ronald like I have been.”

Ronald wants nothing more than to kiss William right then and there, hands poised to grab his boyfriend to hold him steady–

A rock shatters through the window, barely missing Kimiko who flinches out of the way. It rolls to a stop right in front of Ronald and it feels like his heart just stops as that fog begins seeping from the window reminiscent of a waterfall. “When’s he gonna stop looking?!” Ronald demands, pushing himself closer to William, inadvertently pushing them both away from the rock he swears was meant to hit him.

“Not until he finds us.” Rose answers, sounding far too calm.

“How come he wants us?!”

“All the pieces must be put into place for the ritual to be complete again. Once he has us, he only needs one other.”

“One other?”

“Hey.”

Immediately, Ronald and William jolt apart as the small voice speaks from behind them. “What’d I say about scarin’ people?!" Ronald scolds–hold on. “Wait.” he snaps his attention to Rose, “you said–”

“Oliver!” Rose immediately embraces the child, like she feared she’d never see him again, “oh Oliver, I was terrified he had gotten you.”

Ronald slowly sits back on his ankles, utterly perplexed, “but, you said you never heard of Oliver.”

Rose looks at him, her expression mirroring his. “I never said such a thing.”

Ronald swaps his attention to Kimiko. “You heard her, right?”

Kimiko frowns. “I’m sorry Ronald, but I must agree with her.”

Oliver stares at Ronald with those wide, child-like eyes, a hurt clear within them, “d-does brother not remember me?”

Right. Okay. Obviously, this was another thing to add to their growing list of things not making sense. So for now, he’ll play along but now he’s really regretting ripping up that picture…maybe if he returned to the school, he could put the pieces back together somehow. “Uh, I do! Just, have a lotta things goin’ on.”

William runs his hand up and down Ronald’s back, feeling the younger reaper’s strange distress. “I take it you went home again?” William asks the boy.

“Mmhm. I had to. Ronan was gonna look for me and Ronan’s really scary when he’s angry.”

“Well, when the wind dies down, we have all that we need to put that pipe organ back together.” William says, “thus I suggest we come up with a proper plan before we get ourselves killed.”

“But the wind’s gone now!” Oliver tells them, pointing at the window, “see?”

He’s right. It’s dead silent out there now, as if that storm never happened. “So it seems it has.” Kimiko remarks.

Ronald frowns, leaning over to whisper in William’s ear, “before we plan anything, can I talk to you alone for a second?”

William nods, “alright.” he forces himself to his feet, Ronald helping him the rest of the way up, “could you excuse us for a moment?”

“Be careful.” Kimiko warns him.

“We will be fine. We’re only stepping away for a few moments.” William assures her before Ronald gently tugs him away and up the stairs. William may not want to admit he needs the help to climb the stairs, but he does not decline the help Ronald offers. “Right. What is it?” he asks, once the door closes behind him.

Ronald continues to pull William as far away from the basement as he can and even still, he keeps his voice low, “you trust me, right?”

“Of course.”

“Then, I know you promised Oliver you’d help him but there’s somethin’ really weird goin’ on.”

William crosses his arms. “Besides the obvious?”

Ronald nudges his side, “just hear me out, okay?” William gestures with one arm for him to continue, dubious as he is, Ronald’s thankful he’s giving him a chance. “Thanks.” he exhales sharply, "okay, so, Rose didn’t even know who Oliver was until he showed up.”

That has William raising an eyebrow. “She didn’t? I thought it was clear Oliver was your younger brother? Her third nephew?”

“So did I.”

William presses his fingers into his temple. “I don’t understand.”

“Yeah. Me either.”

William’s fingers drop to his lips, tapping them as he thinks, “first of all, what did Rose say to you? Created? Is that her way of saying ‘born’? Are you part demon?”

Ronald shivers, hands flailing as he fights to find the best words to repeat what Rose told him. “No. She really means created. She said we were part of his blood but I’ve never felt even an inch of demon in my life but then she says we’re not ‘conventional reapers’ so…” he shakes his head, slouching now, “so I dunno what I am Will. Ronan’s the only one she confirmed to be, without a doubt, demon in some way, but me? I dunno…”

William studies Ronald’s face before putting his finger under Ronald’s chin and gently lifting his head. “You are Ronald, plain and simple. You are one of my better reapers even if you tend to slip up from time to time. I don’t see a reason to question that now.” Ronald hates that William knows how to invoke these feelings he’s not used to, in him. He flops against William, pressing his face into William’s shoulder and William hugs him close, running his long fingers through the back of Ronald’s hair.

They remain like that until Ronald finds the strength to breathe in and slowly pull away. He quickly wipes at his eyes under his thick rimmed glasses, offering William a small smile, a smile to which William returns. “I’m glad I got to know this side of you.”

“It is one I will only show to you.” he brushes Ronald’s bangs from his eyes as his lips straighten out again, “however, I want to return to what you were saying about Oliver. If you and Rose are creations of this town, does that make Oliver one as well? If she did not recall him, why suddenly treat him like he was part of your family?” he leans on his right leg, a decision he quickly rectifies when pain zaps up his spine. “Oliver told me many things when and now I wonder if any of that was real or just an illusion of this town trying to pry on some deeper instinct.”

“Rebecca knows you can’t have kids, right? That means I wouldn’t be surprised if Haven itself knows you can’t. So, maybe Oliver was made up to gain your trust?”

“I suppose that would be plausible. Then again, we have physical proof of his existence, don’t we? That family photo and…” William frowns, “is that it? Is that all the proof we’ve seen of him?”

“Yeah it is. Which is why I wanna go back to the school and see if I can piece the picture back together to get a real good look at it.” he rubs his arms, “I don’t think I’ll be okay lookin’ at it again, but I’ll be okay lookin’ at it again, if that makes any sense at all.”

“You did tear it into quite the many pieces.”

He shrugs. “I know, but there’s still hope, right?”

“I suppose.” he rolls his shoulders, trying to ease more pressure off his back, “however, there is one more thing that’s bothering me about Oliver. If he was a figment, he’s very knowledgeable about Haven and I doubt a figment created in this town would offer to help free any lost or trapped souls.”

Ronald rubs his hands together, “that’s a good point too.” he glances back toward the basement door, “but I’m tellin’ you Will, there’s somethin’ wrong with Oliver.”

“I do believe you, I’m just not quite sure it’s adding up the way you think it is.”

“And that’s why it’s really botherin’ me.”

William reaches into his pocket and produces the pipe organ keys, admiring their lackluster shine. “Perhpas putting this pipe organ back together may not be the best idea. As you even mentioned, we have no idea what it’ll even do if we play the right song.”

“So what you’re sayin’ is, we just need to hold out until eight then head back home and pretend this entire thing never happened?” Ronald swipes the pieces from William’s hand and dumps them on the floor, “and this is where you say ‘what a great idea Ronald. Let’s do that’.”

“Or we don’t be too hasty.” William replies, carefully bending down to pick up the keys, “I have a feeling we’ll need to be careful about our actions here, including if we decide to leave. With Rose here now as well, I doubt this demon will allow anyone to come or go so freely, especially if it believes it’s getting close to whatever it wants to do.”

“Which is why we gotta go! It wants to complete the ritual, Will! Probably another sacrifice to bring Haven back to its glory days or somethin’!” he grabs William’s arm, “and I dunno about you, but it’s pretty hard to have a relationship when you’re both dead dead!”

William knows Ronald has a point, knows he should leave with Ronald and the other two, but he just can’t bring himself to agree with the idea. However, a part of himself is pleased to know that his hesitance is not a good thing and it’s most likely the town having some pull on him. “Then what are you proposing?” he asks, putting the organ keys back in his pocket.

“Exactly what I just told ya. We wait until eight, then leave.”

William checks his father’s watch around his wrist. “I’m afraid that won’t be for quite some time.”

“Shit. Really?” he groans. “Then, in the meantime, you and I can head back to the school.”

“I…suppose we can.”

“Great! So let’s…wait.” He checks William over, “I’m gettin’ a head of myself. Are you okay to be doing anything?”

William rolls his shoulders again, feeling the fire that burns up his spine. “Not…entirely.”

“Should you even be standing? C’mon, sit down.”

Despite the protest on his tongue, he allows Ronald to escort him to the couch where he sits down; admittedly, it is nice to take some of the pressure off his back. “You will not go alone.” he tells Ronald.

“I know.” Ronald assures him with a smile. “I promise I won’t.” he sits next to William, taking his injured hand, his smile twitching downward as he sees the dried blood on the palm of the bandages. “Can I look at this? Pretty sure I made it worse when I grabbed it.”

“I’d rather that than the alternative.” William replies, already slowly unwrapping the bandages. “It’s gone numb as of now.”

Ronald watches William’s hand, eyes locked on the slow, methodical, unwrapping of the bandages until the wound is bared to his eyes. Unfortunately, it’s not gotten any better. What once was healed, had torn open again and Ronald feels the guilt that comes with the increased recovery time. “I really can’t wait to get home and have this properly fixed.”

“Neither can I.” William agrees, almost forgetting how to even move the fingers on that hand.

“What about your arms?”

“Flesh wounds in comparison.” He carefully re-wraps the injury, holding that hand in his lap–his hand landing on something else in his pocket. He blinks, trying to recall what else he has in his pockets before remembering the flip phone he found in the briefcase. He pulls it out and he and Ronald both stare at the old thing. “I’ve been carrying this with me since the hotel and I still have no idea what to do with it.” It’s still keeping its charge somehow, despite the threateningly low battery.

“Dunno…” Ronald tilts his head, “you think you could call Eric or Grell?”

“Every other time I’ve tried to make a call, it’s never gone through.”

“Yeah, but this is a phone from Haven itself and maybe, it’ll work just like your dads watch? What’s the harm in trying?”

“The battery could die and if we find a time to use it, we won’t have it.”

Ronald grunts, “you don’t have to be logical all the time, you know.”

Before Wiliam has the chance to speak, both of them jolt when the mobile dings. William holds it out far in front of him, perhaps expecting the thing to outright explode but when nothing happens, and he slowly brings it closer to them, they realise the sound came from the text message:

Found You.

********************

Eric holds the door open for Alan, the younger reaper fully expecting to see what remains of the Kimiko doppelgänger but as Callum said, there wasn’t anything left behind. No body and no blood. “How’re you feelin?” Eric asks.

Alan breathes out, the pain medication starting to wear off. “I’ll manage.” he replies.

“Still can’t believe ye were slashed with a scythe in our own home.”

“Well, we both agreed she was acting off and now we know why.”

“Aye.” Eric helps Alan to the couch where he sits him down. “I dunno if I should head back to work or not.”

“You don’t have much of a choice.” Alan reminds him, “you’re covering for William, remember. It’s not like there’s anyone that can cover for you.” he tries to offer a smile, “Callum will be here with me.”

Eric grunts, crossing his arms. While that’s true and clearly Callum’s made it known he won’t allow Alan to die on his watch, Eric’s still coming to terms with everything they were just told. “Y’know, there’s something bothering me about what Callum said.”

“What?”

“Lad never mentioned a Rose, did he? Rebecca’s supposed sister.”

Alan frowns. “You’re right. He didn’t. Meaning what exactly?”

“I’m guessin’ Rose isn’t who she says she is.”

“Wonderful. Another stranger in our home.” he leans back against the cushions, closing his eyes.

“When Spears and Ron get back, I dunno if I want to let either of them outta my sight.”

“I agree with you.” he opens his eyes to look at Eric, “how are you feeling after what Callum’s told us?”

Eric shrugs. “Numb at this point. Think I’m gonna take a few days to really process that we were lied to and the truth we were told is still fucked but a little better and I just wish I could talk to me mum and da’ themselves. Hear what they were really thinkin’. Understand if Callum was bullshitting or not.”

“I suppose not even the Cinematic Records were collected?”

“Didn’t have any from what I heard.”

“Do you remember any of that day at all?”

“Before all of this, no. Think I blocked it out, but now? There’s…there’s some bits and pieces.”

Alan takes Eric’s hand and pulls him to sit next to him. “Anything you want to talk about?”

Eric puts his arm around the back of the couch, preventing himself from putting his arms around Alan’s shoulders like he wants. “I remember comin’ home from…somewhere and it was really quiet. My da’ used to have a record goin’ all the time, so I thought it was weird. I think I called for ‘em but just assumed they went out for a bit which they did from time to time.” he breathes out. “The rest of it…the rest of it is where it gets really blurry. There was alotta red. I don’t even remember if I knew what I was lookin’ at, I just knew it was bad and I needed to call someone. Can’t remember who I called either, I just vaguely remember picking up the rotary and callin’ someone."

Alan touches Eric’s blond hair, running his fingers through it. “I’m so sorry Eric. I can’t imagine having to see any of that.”

“It’s a long time ago now lad, doesn’t bother me like it used to, it’s just, knowin’ why they were killed like that…” he sighs, “I think that’s healed a bit of anger in me. I know it wasn't just some senseless attack but listening to what Callum said, my da’ might not have been meant to live anyway. If demons were huntin’ him, he probably woulda died either way.”

“Still. There was a chance he wouldn’t have.”

Eric nods, knowing Alan’s right. Life itself was always about the ‘what ifs’ but if that were the case, “I’d have never met you, even me parents would have never went to Haven.”

Alan blinks. “You wouldn’t have?”

“No. Woulda stayed in Scotland. Wouldn’t have had a reason to come to London.”

Alan frowns. “You probably would have found yourself in the same position, I’m sure of it. Surrounded by the most attractive reapers, able to have your choice of the flock.”

Eric looks down at Alan, using his other hand to cup Alan’s cheek, “and ye know what?” Alan looks into his eyes, waiting for the answer, “I woulda known somethin’ was missing in me life.”

“You…would have?”

“Aye because ye complete me Al. There’s a reason I wanted to marry ye. Why I wanted to spend what’s left of our eternity together. Doubt I’d have found that with anyone else. No, I know I wouldn’t have found that with anyone else.”

Alan rolls his eyes despite the blush forming on his cheeks. “I’m sure you’re just saying that.”

Eric leans down, peppering kissing all along Alan’s neck, “maybe I am, maybe I’m not. What’ll you believe?"

Alan hums, tilting his head to the side. “Of course I’m going to believe you.”

“Good.”

“I see you’re not taking your rest seriously, Alan.”

Eric freezes and Alan looks mortified as Callum closes the front door behind him. “Shit.” Eric cusses, pulling himself away from Alan, “look, it wasn’t gonna go beyond a light snog.” Eric admits, putting his hand on Alan’s thigh, “just, needed to find comfort in me husband, that’s all.”

Callum nods to that, removing his glasses to rub the bridge of his nose. “I cannot say I blame either of you. There were many days where simply being in Kimiko’s presence washed away all my troubles.” he returns his glasses to his nose. There’s true vulnerability in his eyes now. “Knowing the real Kimiko is out there, I yearn to hold her again.” he plays with his wedding ring around his fingers, “even if I know she is very capable of taking care of herself, it still does not ease my worries.”

Eric squeezes Alan’s thigh, “so, ye really did know that Kimiko wasn’t the real one?”

“I did but I reiterate, I hoped to play along until my Kimiko showed her face. Unfortunately, her double played its cards too early.”

“How are you so sure she won’t come back?” Alan asks.

“Because killing a doppelgänger outside of Haven will prevent it from regenerating. Haven’s power does not extend to the outside world. At least, to the creatures that originate from within it. Now, killing a doppelgänger inside Haven is a whole other matter as it needs to be you to kill your own. It solidifies in the town’s soil that you are the one and only.”

“Then, does that mean there's a doppelgänger of Eric and I?”

“If you stepped into the Haven where William and Ronald are, yes. Haven would create your echoes.”

Alan shivers, shuffling closer to Eric. “Lovely.” immediately, his back goes taunt, “and how do we know you’re not one?”

“I have already killed mine.” Callum responds. “Long before any of this happened, before William was born, I killed mine when he tried to take my place as the real one.” He crosses his arms, “and if I were, I would not be telling you any of this. Doppelgänger’s only know the memories and the past you willingly share with Haven. Your personality is easy to copy but everything else is harder to get right.”

Eric squeezes Alan’s thigh again. “So the Kimiko one is dead fer good?”

“Yes.”

“Well…I suppose that’s some good news.” Alan sighs, “we don’t have to worry about another Kimiko wandering about.”

“Aye.” Eric nods. “Right, Callum, I’ve got one more question for you.”

“And that is?”

“Ever heard of a Rose Knox?”

“Rose?”

“She was Rebecca’s sister.” Alan clarifies.

Callum thinks for a moment then shakes his head. “Rebecca never had a sister.”

Eric clicks his tongue. “And there is it is. So who the fuck was Rose and why was she so fuckin’ worried about Ron?”

Immediately, Eric's phone buzzes. Eric apologises as he takes it from his pocket, presuming it was work but instead, it’s a text from an unknown number:

Need You.

Chapter Text

“What?!”

It’s the reaction Eric expected when he made the suggestion for even Callum looks baffled by his choice. “I’m gonna go to Haven myself and bring ‘em back.”

Alan stares unblinking at his husband, trying to wrap his head around the very idea. “Go to Haven yourself? What kind of idea is that?!”

“The only one I got.” he shows Alan the text as if that’s reason enough for Alan to give his approval, “look hen. Somethin’ tells me they won’t be makin’ it back on their own.”

Alan’s heart pounds in his chest, staring at the ominous text from the unknown sender. Yes, it could have been William or Ronald calling out for help or it could have been something far more sinister, “I…”

“It could work.” Callum speaks up after a thoughtful silence. “Could.”

Alan snaps his attention to the older reaper. “Don’t tell me you agree!”

“For the most part, I do. Haven is known to entrap those that it wants, hence why William and Ronald were lured there in the first place, but, it will also let go of those that it no longer needs, that the demon finds useless to him. Short of killing them, that is the best way to retrieve souls from Haven.”

“Right. Killing them. Okay, might I remind you, Eric, that your family left Haven? Your parents were killed because they left Haven.” Alan stresses, using his working hand to grab Eric’s arm, “you were clearly left alive for whatever reason and going back there might just be suicide.”

“And leavin’ them there without tryin’ to help is as good as murder.” Eric counters, putting his hand over Alan’s, “lad, I know. I know there’s a lot of risks and I know it’s not the brightest idea we’ve got, but what else are we gonna do? Aye, Spears said he’s stayin’ there and Ron with him, but who the hell knows if that’s their choice or if they were influenced by somethin’? By the town itself?” he squeezes Alan’s hand, “if they were, then they’ll need someone to bring them home.”

“Again, your husband has a point.” Callum says to Alan, “William was hellbent on remaining in Haven for a reason he refused to tell me. At first, he was insistent he would not leave without Ronald, yet when they found one another, he still refused to leave.”

Alan’s hand tenses and relaxes continuously around Eric’s arm, fighting with himself because as he sees it, the risk is too great. “And what will I do then? I’m unfit to go with you.” he glances at Callum, “maybe you can?”

“No.” Eric states firmly. “I want him here with you.”

“Why?”

“Because if somethin’ does happen to me, I want someone well renowned with the Board to be yer speakin’ piece.”

Callum sighs. “Again, he has a point. If you were to give a reason for Slingby’s disappearance, they would doubt–refuse rather–to believe it had anything to do with Haven.”

“So, what? They’d assume him, Ronald and William all decided to run off together?”

“If it meant leaving Haven alone, yes.”

Alan slowly shakes his head. “Bollocks that is.”

“I’m afraid that’s how the Board is. In an event any reaper goes missing, they have no qualms filling the empty spot without questions. So long as they can fix productivity without lifting much of a finger, they will.” he crosses his arms, his eyes serious as they remain on Alan, “I’m sorry to say, Alan, that when the thorns eventually claim you, you will be replaced before your body has even grown cold.”

Eric’s more bothered by that statement than Alan is; his eyes grow cold and his jaw tenses, teeth grit together. “They can never replace Alan.”

“Eric.” Alan squeezes his arm again, “it’s okay. They would need to eventually, I just had some hope they’d be a little more respectful when doing it, regardless who the reaper was.”

“That is not how the Board operates.” Callum continues, “which is another reason why I am for Eric going to Haven to retrieve Ronald, William and the real Kimiko.” he tugs at his tie, an act done out of, what Alan would dare call, nerves. “I am not one to get on my knees and beg, but Eric, I…please. I know there is irony in asking you to rescue my family for me, but I have much I need to rectify when it comes to William, things I need to tell him, things I need to tell and apologise for to Kimiko.”

Eric would have gone on this mission regardless, but there is something cathartic about hearing Callum’s plea, “if yer tellin’ me the truth about what really happened to me parents, then it’s only right I return the favour.”

Callum breathes out slowly, bowing his head in a silent gratitude. “Then there are things you will need to understand about Haven.”

“I’m sure the more you can tell us about the inner workings, the better.” Alan says.

“First off then, take your scythe with you.”

Eric quirks an eyebrow, summoning said scythe into his hand, “take it with me?”

“Yes because you will not be able to summon it inside Haven.” Callum tells him, beginning to pace, “Haven will treat your very being like it’s human. You will lose all connection to the realm, however, bringing items into Haven from the outside, such as your scythe, you will be allowed to keep. So long as Haven itself does not pull you in, the items of our realm will continue to be unaffected by Haven’s strange mini-realm.”

Eric admires the sharp teeth of his scythe. “Right.”

“You will also need to be wary of any injury received there for if you return with one, it will take an exceptionally long time to heal, even for us. Which is why I suggest we prepare a medical bag for you in case there is a wound that needs immediate care.”

“I’ll help with that.” says Alan, “we should especially remember to return William his pain medication as well.”

Callum winces out of sympathy, “indeed. That injury on his back will be more of hindrance to him there than it ever was here.”

Eric looks at Alan, seeing some burning determination behind the worry in his husband’s eyes, “yer okay with this now?”

Alan looks back at Eric, nibbling his lower lip. “Maybe.” He turns back to Callum, “I have a question then.”

“Which is?”

“How will I know that the Eric that returns, is my Eric?”

“That will be another test entirely. While doppelgänger’s will know extensively of what happens in Haven, as if they are the real whomever they’re created from, once they are removed from Haven, they are only left with that reaper’s core memories.” he gestures to wedding ring on his hand, “take your marriage for example. They will remember you are married but they will not remember the exact day or even exact details. It will take them time to fully assimilate into the world of the reaper they are replacing. Details and traits will take time for them to know and portray.”

Alan looks Eric up and down, “well, at least you’re distinctive enough that I’ll know if a doppelgänger returns home.” he pokes Eric’s cheek, “prepare for a lengthy interrogation."

Eric smirks, “aye. I will.”

Alan sighs, laying his head to Eric’s shoulder. He knows letting Eric leave might lead to trouble but on the other hand, the other two had a point. Perhaps Eric would be the only way the trapped three could be brought back home. Still, he can’t fully bring himself to say he’s okay with Eric leaving. “How are we even so sure that it was from William or Ronald?”

“Who else would have been?”

“The town trying to lure you in…or even just a prank text.”

“Pretty timely and accurate fer a prank.”

Alan nuzzles closer to Eric, clamping his hand tighter around Eric’s arm, as if he can physically lock his husband down. He knows getting them home should be the priority but is it so wrong of him to be a little selfish and force Callum to go instead? Why did it need to be Eric? Sure, the Board would believe Callum more than either him or Eric, but that didn’t mean he had to like the idea of (perhaps) sending Eric to his death or, even worse, to be replaced. “I doubt it’s such.” Callum says, “for I agree, it’s too accurate to our situation. Meaning, I doubt we have the luxury for debating authenticity. However, we do have time before the gateway to Haven opens at eight.”

“Fer how long?” Eric asks.

“One minute exactly.”

Alan swallows. “That’s very little time to even change your mind even if you wanted to.”

“Prescisly why we should spend the time we have to play the right moves.”

Eric shifts on the couch, sliding his arm down to Alan’s waist. “What about work? I’m still coverin’ for Spears, right? Hell, I’m probably gonna be written up anyway fer stayin’ away from the office for this long.”

“I will continue to cover for you.” Callum promises. “The Board will keep their noses out of our business so long as productivity continues.”

“Wouldn’t the Board be willing to help?” Alan asks, sounding a bit too hopeful, “I know we’ve established they’re arseholes, but–”

“They would rather seal the way to Haven as it is then worry about helping those trapped inside it. So no, Alan, it would not be ideal to inform the Board on what’s happened.”

“Arseholes.” Alan repeats. “Fine. I’ll keep this between us.”

Callum nods, clapping his hands together. “Then you and I, Eric, should return to Haven once we have the supplies you’ll need.”

Eric gently, but firmly, pushes away from Alan, the other reaper’s grip only growing tighter when he hears Callum wants them leaving sooner than later. “Right. I’m ready then.”

“I’m not.” Alan frowns, “Eric, I…I don’t want you going.”

Eric bends down, clamping his hand on Alan’s knees as he tries to reassure his husband with his eyes as well as his words, “I know hen, I do, but I’d rather try to help then sit here and do nothin’.”

Alan closes his hand around Eric’s, holding it as close as he can to his chest. “I know you’re right, I do, I just worry I won’t get the real you back.”

Eric smirks, pulling Alan’s hand toward him in return and kisses the back of it, “hey, if I’m replaced, ye can use that me as a punching bag, aye?”

Alan laughs softly, the amusement almost reaching his eyes. “I intend to.” he slips his hand free only to touch Eric’s cheek, capturing every detail of his husband’s face, intending to notice if even a focal of his goatee is out of place. “Alright…I’ll stop stalling.” he looks at Callum, “take care of him, okay? I know Eric can hold his own but I’ll feel better knowing he has someone of the same ability at his side.”

“I’m afraid that would be my wife.” Callum states, straightening his tie. “Kimiko is far more superior when it comes to the field. Unfortunately, my strengths lie in paperwork and bureaucracy."

Eric smirks. “Sounds like Will got both yer strengths.”

“Had he not received the injury to his back, I’m sure he would have.” Callum means to check his watch for the time, momentarily forgetting he’d given it to William, “now please. I do not mean to rush, but I would like to get everything in order before we no longer can.”

Alan stands as Eric does, adjusting his arm in the sling. “I’ll help get the medical bag ready.”

“Right, then Slingby, please retrieve William’s death scythe from his office.” Callum sets his eyes out the window, staring off into the direction he knows Haven is, “and once you return, we will leave for Haven.”

********************

He feels like he’s been thrown against every surface imaginable. His body aches worse than it ever has and his head feels like his skull is too small for his brain. Opening his eyes, everything’s doubled and blurry and he feels like he’s going to be sick. He tries to find the ground, tries to close his eyes and focus on anything but he can’t. He has no idea where he is or if he’s alone or not

Counting backwards from 5, 3, 4, 1, 2…wait, no. That’s wrong, right? It didn’t matter, his head felt like it’s about to explode. He tries to open his eyes again and barely, he seems something amongst the doubles of objects and darkness. Is…someone standing there…? Maybe? “H-He–” he slaps his hand over his mouth, swallowing down the vile. This is worse than any hangover he’s experienced before.

He’s laying on his stomach? No, his back? He doesn’t know what position he’s in, he just knows that he feels like he’d much rather be dead than endure this any longer. “The ceremony will take place tomorrow at the blessed time.”

“Are you certain of that my dear? You only have two of the three I require.”

“I am, my love. The third will arrive and soon, you will be given your sacrifices and you will have your strength to free us.”

There’s a low chuckle from somewhere ahead of him, “a curse you would not have endured if you did not try to use the child I so graciously gave you.”

“It was an error I am trying to rectify.”

“Mmm, I see you’re putting in the effort. You’ve been such a good girl for me." Well now he feels like throwing up for another reason. “A shame it had to have come to this. Such loyal followers choosing the difficult path, but I suppose that is why you reapers are inferior to demons. Guilt, remorse, empathy, love, all emotions that lead you to desperation when I offered all of you a sanctuary.”

“We are not like other reapers, darling. We thank you for all you’ve done for us and I, and the rest of your loyal followers, will correct my mistake.”

“I know you will, my sweet.” the voices stop but now he hears footsteps coming closer but instead of approaching him, they wander off to his right? No, his left? “And this one,” he hears the ruffle of fabric and grunt of effort as they…push? Something. “Remove his pinky finger. He was planning to leave after all and as he said. If someone breaks a promise, you cut off that finger.”

“Of course. Shall I do it now or wait for him to wake?”

There’s that obnoxiously, yet almost seductive, laugh again. “You should know the answer, my dear. Pain is the perfect punishment.” Then the footsteps are heard again and they approach him this time and faintly, he feels fingers in his hair; freezing cold fingers at that. “I do apologise that you’ve gone through so much, but I assure you, your presence was sorely missed.” the fingers in his hair vanish and the footsteps begin walking away from him followed by another pair until both sets of steps fade completely.

Taking a deep breath, he slowly opens his eyes, hoping to regain some vision and very slowly, he does. Things aren’t doubled anymore and he feels less dizzy. He still has no idea where he is, however. The room feels oppressively dark and stifling but he knows he can’t let that stop him. From what he’s just overheard, he needs to get out of here.

Taking another breath and holding it in, he forces himself up onto his hands, then exhaling slowly through the pain. He squints, trying to get some sense of where he is but the only light comes from a small, rectangular window up high on the wall behind him.

He shakes his head, wincing as that wasn’t a good idea. Still, he tries to force himself to fully sit up. The world’s no longer spinning completely, and now, despite the dark, he notices another figure laying across from him just out of arms reach. “O-Oi!” he tries to shout. He shuffles, pulling himself forward but then something tugs at his ankle. Looking down, his eyes widen in silent horror at the cuff snapped around it, the chain itself almost purposefully just short of reaching for his cellmate. “Shit.” he tugs at it, hoping, somehow, it’ll be easy to break or slip through, but of course not. Nothing is ever that easy in this damn place. “Hey!” he shouts again with more confidence. “W-Will? That you? C’mon.” he groans, tugging at the chain to see if he can find more slack, but no. This is as long as the chain gets. “Will, please. Just…” he swallows, feeling tears beginning to burn in the back of his eyes, “please.” he wipes at his eyes, scowling at himself. “C’mon Ron, pull yourself together. Cryin’ isn’t gonna get you outta here.” he pats around in his pockets for something to throw at the body until he realises there’s something latched around his wrist. He blinks, realising it was the watch he threw away in the metal container with that locket…that locket that’s now around his neck. “Fuck off!” he shouts, yanking it off and throwing it to the ground. He then quickly unlatches the watch and throws it at the body, hearing the thud as it makes connection. “Oi! Will!”

That worked.

He hears the shuffling next to him, William no doubt dealing with the same torture he did. He hears the groan of agony and that’s all but confirmed. “Yep. Me too.”

He watches as the shadow slowly comes to life, forcing himself up then to his knees, head bowed and clearly struggling with the dizziness. “Fucking hell…” he hears William whisper and beyond the enjoyment of hearing William cuss, he’s pleased to know it is William next to him. “Knox?”

“Yeah. Hey Will.”

William exhales, Ronald listening to his quiet breathing. “What on earth happened?”

“No idea. All I know is that we’re stuck in some prison cell with a chain around our ankles. Well, I’m guessin’ you have one too.”

“Chain?” There's a brief pause before Ronald hears the familiar clinking of iron links. “Wonderful.”

Ronald sits down properly, poking and prodding at the cuff around his ankle. “Heard some things while you were out. Pretty sure it was mum talking to…well, talkin’ to the demon that’s runnin’ this place?”

“She was?”

“Sounded like it.” He futilely tries to pull the cuff apart again. “She said ‘your sacrifices’ and ‘your strength to free us’, so, not many options on who that could be.” he pauses. “Demon guy also said ‘the third will arrive soon’ which can’t be good.”

“Third? A third sacrifice?”

“Pretty much.”

William falls silent for too long until he says what Ronald didn’t want to think about. “Slingby. He’s the only other option I can think of. The only other one that got away.”

“But how would Eric even get here? Like, there’s no way he’d leave Alan, right? And really, why would he come here in the first place? Rescue us? Again, no way he’d leave Alan, especially when there’s a chance he wouldn’t come back at all.”

“I suppose if he has my father for a guide, he may think there’s more of a chance at success.”

“Don’t see it.” he finally gives up on the cuff, slumping over his knee. A silence falls between them, Ronald no doubt guessing William’s mind’s already whirling, trying to form a plan to get them out here. “Also Will…erm, not sure how to say this, but, watch your pinky.”

The silence continues for a bit longer until William answers, sounding rather baffled, “my pinky?”

“Yeah. Your pinky finger. I, uh, heard the demon sayin’ to cut it off.”

He hears William’s choke of surprise. “Blast.”

“So you know what that’s about?”

“I made a pinky promise to Oliver that I wouldn’t abandon him in this place, that I’d do all I could to save him, but, how would he have known that I was intending to break it to leave with you?”

“First of all, why does that mean you get your finger cut off?”

“Yubikiri or in english, finger-cut off.” he sighs, “there’s a song and it begins with yubikiri genman, uso tsuitara hari Senbon nomasu, yubi kitta, I promised to cut my finger, and if I lied I'd have to swallow a thousand needles. At least, along those lines from what I recall.”

“Swallow a thousand needles. Yeah. Honestly, the cutting of the finger is probably the best outcome.”

“Unfortunately.”

“Now second of all, yeah. How did the demon know about that promise? Is he one of those all seeing pricks?”

“That’s hard to say. I once thought he was of the same vein as Sebasitan but now, I’m not so sure.”

“Okay, so then third of all, who is Oliver? I doubt he’s who he says he is after all this.”

“I have no idea where to begin with that one.” he blows out a puff of hair, “hang on, don’t you have that family portrait? The one you stuffed into your pocket?”

Ronald pats around his pockets again and William’s right. The photo from the desk, the one he completely forgot about when he saw his mother and father holding the plaque with their name on it. “Oh yeah. You’re right.” he scoots as close as he can to the window and holds up the photo–there’s no Oliver. The newborn he clearly remembered, is gone. It’s just the child with the scratched out face and Ronan with his parents. “Will…Will…” he can barely force out the words he knows he needs to, “he’s gone.”

“Gone?”

“Gone.” he leans over as much as he can and tosses the photo toward William. “See for yourself.”

William’s barely able to grab the photo and when he does, he holds it up to the light. “You’re right.” he folds up the picture, throwing it back to Ronald. “Our focus needs to be on getting out here and quickly then.”

Ronald blinks, almost taken aback how unsurprised William sounded. “That’s it?”

“What do you mean?”

“That’s it? Will, the kid’s gone from the picture when we both know we saw him there the first time!”

“And what do you want me to say? To do? Yes, I’m as shocked as you are that this town is able to warp our memories, that Oliver may be some… demon in disguise but sitting here and throwing out theories that have nothing to do with our present situation is not going to help us.”

Ronald opens and closes his mouth a few times because William has a point. They can figure all of that out when they’re not trapped in some cell where, clearly, they’re just being held until they can be sacrificed next. “Then how are we gonna get outta here?”

A pause. “I haven’t a bloody clue.”

Ronald groans, trying once again to remove the cuff from his ankle, using all his might but no. The thing still refuses to budge. “Damn it.” 

He hears William shuffling around, no doubt trying to free himself just as much as Ronald is until he hears him ask, “what is this?”

“What’s what?”

“This. It feels…it feels like a watch.”

“Oh. Probably because it is. Dunno why but I woke up with my watch and locket on again, somehow. Threw the watch at you to wake you up.”

“You were wearing it again?”

“Yeah, but like I said, dunno how whoever gave it to me even got it from the bottom of the lake.”

“Hm.” William goes silent again and Ronald assumes he’s thinking until he hears a click and footsteps again.

“Will…”

And then there’s light.

It’s a bright light considering the darkness of the room as a door opens and Rebecca walks in with those two (demons, he’s sure of it now) bodyguards at her side and now it’s made obvious they really are in some sort of cell. “Ronald.” She speaks, her voice deceptively calm, soothing even. “You’re awake. The both of you are.”

“Yeah…”

“It’s my displeasure to see you again.” says William, a fire in his eyes.

Rebecca only smiles then snaps her fingers. One of her guards steps forward and unlocks the cell door, opening it to allow her inside. Right away, she kneels down, picking up the locket with a frown. “Why have you thrown this away?”

“Why would I want it?” he genuinely asks. “So what? You have my class photo in there, big deal.”

“It was the last picture I had of you.” Rebecca says, opening the locket, somehow able to see the photo inside it “Before you were taken from me.” she looks fond as she admires the photo, stroking her thumb down the side of the locket, “Would you believe I hid this from Ronan? That I tried to keep this last piece of you with me?”

“No.”

“I did, Ronald. Despite what I could not show you, I still loved you and I wanted to keep something of you, even if it was merely a class photo. Ronan was just a jealous child and assumed my love for you was greater than his when he knew I should feel nothing for a sacrifice.” she snaps the locket shut and slips it into her pocket. “And that watch. It was meant to be yours, William.”

“Mine?” William asks, confused.

“Yes. A gift given to every sacrifice and yet, your parents refused to give it to you.”

“Why the hell would I want it?”

“It would have been the only gift your parents gave you.”

Ronald sees the fire flare and he can’t say he blames William for that anger. “Now, William, there is something I need from you.”

“You lay a hand on me and I will–”

“I’m afraid you do not have a say.” Her voice was a cold blade and she snaps her fingers, a sharp crack in the quiet space. Her bodyguards act quickly, one grabbing William, holding him bruisingly tight, forcing him to his knees and yanking his arm out straight. The other knelt down, putting pressure on William’s forearm, pinning it to the cold, hard floor. “Please remain still. It’ll be less painful that way.” she says in a sickly sweet whisper that makes Ronald shiver.

Ronald’s eyes widened in horror, watching William struggle and shout. The kneeling demon summons a knife, its polished blade catching the dim light of the outside world, and a cold, visceral terror grips Ronald’s heart.

As the knife is raised, Ronald’s voice erupts from his throat, his words running from his mouth before he even knew what he was saying. “I’ll do it!”

The demon pauses for a moment and Rebecca turns her sightless gaze toward him, the blank stare somehow more piercing than any set of eyes. “Pardon?” 

Ronald feels his hands trembling, a tremor that runs to his very core but he refuses to back down. “I’ll do it. Take my finger instead.”

William stares at him, his struggling ceasing for a moment, his eyes wide with a mixture of shock, terror and rage, “Knox, don’t. It was my promise I broke, not yours.”

“You’ve already been through enough.” Ronald insists, voice steady, even as he places his hand flat on the floor. The cold stone is a stark contrast to the burning adrenaline coursing through him, “Just…just do it.”

Rebecca looks at William, a small twisted smile on her lips as she observes the pleading on his face. “I was told to take yours. However, if he is willing to take the punishment for you, I see no reason to object.”

It happens in an instant. In a blur of motion, a flash of steel, a searing, white-hot pain, a burning agony steals his sight and voice, leaving him nothing but a raw, screaming pain that lasts almost too long—

…

There’s a throbbing in his hand when he opens his eyes. A throbbing that turns into an aching pain that, no matter how hard he tries to ignore it, continues to get worse. What’s even odder is the tightness all around him and he’s moving slowly back and forth before realising it’s arms that are around him, William’s arms. He’s slowly rocking back and forth, one hand pressing Ronald’s head to his chest, the other pressing comfortingly against his lower back. “Will…?”

“Ronald.” William whispers above him, holding him closer. “You idiot.” yet it’s said with a hiccup in his voice.

“I’m…am I okay?”

“They bandage the area but that’s about it.” he cusses quietly with a word Ronald doesn’t understand, “I wish I still had those painkillers with me.”

Ronald swallows and slowly raises his arm and sure enough, his right hand only has four fingers now. The sight itself makes him feel sick, so he immediately averts his eyes, pressing his face into William’s chest. “Glad…glad it was me.”

“I’m not!” William envelopes Ronald completely in his arms. “That was not your burden to carry.”

“Y-Yeah…well, you got a hole in your hand.”

“And?!”

Ronald smiles through the pain, “you can’t take the full brunt of this place, y’know.”

“If it means preventing you from harm, I would do so a thousand times over.”

“Sap.” William continues to cradle him, not willing to let him go anytime soon, so he asks, “how’re you able to hold me?”

“Considering we’re stuck in this cell, Rebecca allowed us freedom from our chains.”

“Huh. That was nice of her.”

“It’s the least she could do.” Eventually, slowly, William leans away to properly look down at Ronald. He takes the younger reaper’s hand, frowning at the bandage. “How are you feeling?”

“Um…y’know, I dunno. It hurts. A lot. But otherwise, I dunno.” he watches the fire return to William’s eyes, his eyes glaring at nothing through the cell bars. “Will?”

“Both her and that demon will pay for what they’ve done to you.”

He wants to protest but he feels like a thousand things are wrong, so he just relaxes back into William’s arms, “I believe you.”

With William still holding him and continuing to sway, Ronald relaxes back into the embrace. Everything else fades away and for a moment, all he knew was William’s steady breathing and the feel of those arms around him. The ache in his hand starts to fade, soothed by the safety of being held. William was here. He’d protect him. He felt like nothing could hurt him again.

He’s almost asleep when a small, meek voice cuts through the quiet, “hey.”

The word shatters the illusion of safety. William’s arms instantly stiffen and tense. Both their heads snap up to the bars where Oliver stands, his small hands gripping tight around the cold iron and his big, worried eyes locked on them. “Oliver.” William says, voice sharp despite his exhaustion. “You need to go.”

“No. I wanna help.” The boy's voice was so sincere, Ronald almost forgets that he’s not just some innocent spirit of a child.

“You’ve helped enough. Go.” William reiterates, a cold, commanding edge to his words.

“I’m sorry.” the child whispers, looking down to the floor, “Ronan was made at me. He wanted me to stay away.”

Ronald pushes himself up, slumping against the iron bars, his fingers curling around Oliver’s. William may have felt betrayed, but he’s desperate for any way out. “Can you get us out of here?”

“I wanna try.”

“Then try, okay? Do anything you can.” he says it with a plea. He knows this child could be a cruel trick of the town, or even a demon as William suggested before, but he doesn't care anymore. If there was even a sliver of a chance of freedom, he’d take it. Oliver’s face lights up with purpose and then, to Ronald’s shock, vanishes, “hey!” he yells, hands tightening around the bars.

William lets out a long, tired sigh. “I’m sorry I didn’t believe you about him sooner, Ronald. You were right.”

Ronald sinks back on his haunches. “It’s not your fault. This town was obviously messin’ with something you wanted. I get why you’d wanna help him. Besides, he’s a kid. Who doesn’t instinctively wanna help a kid?”

“I suppose.”

Ronald frowns then crawls back to William, mindful of his injured hand. “Hey, it’s okay.” he assures the older reaper with a hug.

William takes a deep, shaky breath, a sound that tells Ronald just how on edge he is. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, okay?” He gently nudges William’s head to the side with his own, offering him a reassuring smile, “instead, when we get home, you can make it up to me by takin’ me out to dinner.”

The idea surprises William. He blinks, a flicker of genuine shock in his eyes, until a slow, hesitant smile spreads across his face. It was a real smile and it was all the answer Ronald needed. “I would like that very much.” Ronald leans in, his lips just brushing William’s before they hear footsteps again. Every part of them is on high alert, both of them shooting to their feet, William automatically throwing an arm in front of Ronald, ready to defend the younger reaper if push came to shove.

Expecting Rebecca again, or even the demon, but they were speechless as the door slowly creaked open, exposing a figure they never expected to see here. “Eric!” Ronald’s cry a choked sob of pure, utter relief as he scrambles to the bars, “Eric.” he all but whimpers. Eric rushes toward the cell, his own face a mix of disbelief and shock. He’s got a bag thrown over his shoulder and Ronald’s only briefly curious about the scythe he's holding because all he sees right now is Eric standing right in front of him.

“Styx Ron! Ye both look like shit!!”

“I-I know! It’s bad, real bad, but pleasepleaseplease, get us out!”

“Aye lad, I know.” he assures in that calm voice that Ronald needs right now. “First of all, here Spears, take this.” He offers William his scythe and William stares at the weapon, his hand shaking a little as he takes it. He holds it stiffly, as if he doesn’t recall how to use it after so long without it. “Right, now step back.” Eric commands. They obey and Eric quickly slashes at the iron bars, the metal screaming as it's sliced through, making a jagged hole for them to step through.

Without a second thought, Ronald launches himself into Eric’s arms, grabbing back of the older reaper’s blazer and burying his face in his shoulder. Eric wraps a tight, protective arm around him, feeling Ronald’s heart hammering in his chest. Just knowing he’s come before he could lose either him or William, lifts some weight from his shoulders. William. His eyes land on the other reaper, fixing him with a sharp, intense stare. “Slingby.” William begins, bowing his head slightly. “I’d like to…formally apologise on the behalf of my family. Even if they did not do what we assumed, they still had a hand in your family’s–”

“We’re not talkin’ about that right now.” he interrupts, keeping his hand rubbing up and down Ronald’s back, “ye kept Ronnie alive. That’s good enough fer me.” His gaze softens a little, looking down at Ronald. “What the hell happened to the both of ye?”

“A story for when we’re safe.” William says, “just as the answers we need from you.”

Eric nods. There’s still tension hanging in the air, but getting them out and safe is Eric’s top priority now, no matter what, so he gently pushes Ronald away, “let’s get outta here.”

“Back home?” Ronald asks, his voice quiet, almost a whisper.

“Aye.”

“But, what about Kimiko?”

William nods. “He’s right. I cannot leave without my mother.”

Eric shakes his head firmly. “You two are goin’ home. I’ll find Kimiko.”

“I’m afraid that’s not up for debate.” William protests. “She is my mother, Slingby.”

“Aye, I know she is, but look at you two. Yer not fit for anythin’ let alone a rescue mission.”

“This is non-negotiable."

Eric avoids rolling his eyes, knowing WIlliam’s stubbornness was not one worth fighting. At least, not here. “At least let me get ye to a safe place.”

“Fine. I’ll agree to that.”

“Yeah. Me too.” Ronald mumbles, the thought of somewhere where he doesn’t need to be constantly looking over his shoulder sounds beyond ideal.

“Then let’s go.”

Ronald hangs back behind the two with scythes but he stays just as vigilant. As it turns out, what he assumed was the prison, was just the basement of the school. Why there was a cell in said basement, he doesn’t want to think of, he just wants out, thus even the tense air of Haven is a welcome reprieve and now he’s able to see the destruction of the storm in its full glory. It truly looks like a tornado ripped through here, tearing apart everything in its path; the only things that remained were the foundations of the buildings and the occasional tree still standing, stripped bare of all leaves. The road was littered with debris, a chaotic mix of splintered wood, twisted metal, and shattered glass.

As they walked, the crunch of their shoes on the gravel and glass was a sharp sound in the silence. The air is heavy with the smell of wet dirt and something else, a metallic, acrid scent that makes Roald’s nose wrinkle. It smelled like death. “Bad sign." Ronald whispers harshly, "all of it.”

“Meaning we stick close together.” Eric says, sparing a glance behind at him, “let Spears and I take the hit if anything attacks.” he looks at William, a flicker of doubt in his eyes, “if yer able to hold yer own.”

William nods, jaw tight. “I’ll do what I can. I cannot promise I’ll be flawless, but with Knox’s safety on the line, I will try my damndest.” and that’s all the reassurance Eric needs.

Eventually, they make it to the safe place and as it turns out, said safe place is  the same hotel room he and William stayed in and it’s comforting to see nothing about it has changed. Once Eric closes the door behind them, the outside world is gone and the safety of the room takes over. Ronald collapses onto the soft bed, his muscles aching while William drops onto the couch, scythe dropping from his hand as he forces his body to relax, slouching into the cushions.

Eric lets out a long sigh, shrugging off his bag, kneeling down to open it. “Alright, I’ve got medical supplies in here and Spears, there are fer ye.” Eric announces, shaking a bottle of painkillers.

He tosses them to William, who catches them with a bit of fumble before he shakes out two pills and swallows them dry. “Thank you.” The relief in his voice is prominent. “Knox, here. Take one.”

“Sure thing boss.” Ronald agrees, grabbing the bottle and eagerly shaking out one. The moment it hits his tongue, he’s hit by a citrusy, minty taste and once he swallows, he’s left with a distinct earthy and sweet aftertaste.

“How did you find us?” William asks, sounding as tired as he looks, the painkillers slowly easing out the ache in his body.

“Took a gamble." Eric answers, his attention already on William’s hand. He gently unwraps the tattered bandages, William’s breath hitching as the touch makes his hand sting. “yer da’ and I were talkin’ outside of my old home in our version of Haven and suddenly, the portal opened. There was way too much time to wait before it opened naturally, so I took it and what the fuck did you do yer hand?!” he demands, staring at the obvious hole.

“I tried to open the wrong door.”

Eric clearly has more questions, but he chooses not to ask them, instead focusing on the task at hand, grabbing the medical supplies from the bag, “Right, let’s get this cleaned up.”

“I wasn't aware you were a medic.” William comments, voice pitching as Eric applies disinfectant around the edges of the wound.

“I know enough. Been on the receivin’ end of a few fists.”

“So, you put the bag together?” Ronald asks, voice muffled by the pillow.

“Alan did. Callum too.” Eric starts to re-wrap William’s hand with fresh bandages, his touch gentle. “How’s tha’?”

William looks at his hand, twisting his wrist left and right. “I believe it feels better. Thank you Slingby.”

“Aye, ‘course Spears.” he gestures to William’s arms, “c’mon. Let’s put fresh bandages on those.” William clearly wants to decline the help but Eric already starts to slowly pull them off. “Figured ye’d say no.”

William winces. “Well, you were correct.”

As Eric bares William’s arm to his view, he’s thankful that the scars are less painful looking than the hole in his hand, but still. “Looks like ye went down a slide made o’ rocks.” Eric observes, looking up and down William’s arms.

“I suppose being thrown across the pavement is the same thing.”

Eric winces out of sympathy, “aye. Suppose so.”

“You said flesh wounds!” Ronald protests, jolting up.

“I didn’t want you to worry.”

Ronald scoffs, crossing his arms, amazed at how fast those painkillers can kick in. “Yeah. Fine.” he rubs his eye under his glasses. “So, Eric, how the hell are you able to use scythe’s?”

“Callum said ye can bring items into Haven when Haven isn’t tryin’ to lure ye in.” Eric explains, wrapping the bandages around WIlliam’s right arm. “Ye can’t summon ‘em from in here, but, ye can bring ‘em with ya.”

Ronald nods. “I guess that makes sense.” then the realisation hits. “Oh! Like your dad’s watch, Will!”

There’s a brief pause as it takes a moment for William to register what Ronald’s talking about. “My father’s…?” William glances at both his wrists. “My father’s watch…I don’t see it.”

Ronald blinks. “Huh?”

“It’s not on me.”

“Not on you? What? Did Rebecca take it?” and if she did, then did that mean… “Wait,” Ronald leans forward, sounding almost desperate, “if you’re missing his watch, do you still have those pipe organ keys?!”

William pats around his pockets with his free hand, a frown forming more and more the longer he’s unable to find said objects. “Damn it. They must have taken them.”

Eric glances between the two before switching arms, “what the hell are you two talkin’ about?”

“It’s a very long story and one I don’t think Knox or I have the energy to explain.” William tells him.

Eric finishes up the bandages on William’s arm, “Then I expect a full one when ye do.” He now moves over to Ronald, taking the younger reaper’s hand, only to be speechless when he sees a finger missing. “Ron…”

“I…I don’t wanna think about it.” Ronald tells him, eyes fixed on the ceiling, refusing to look at the injury as Eric gently unwraps the bandages. Eric keeps his words to himself, just focused on cleaning the wound.

Eventually, when all was said and done, Ronld leans his whole weight against Eric when the older reaper sat next to him on the bed. Having William with him had been a blessing, a solid rock in the storm, but knowing Eric was here, it gives him that little extra reassurance that everything was going to be okay. “You’re alright now, lad.” Eric assures him, wrapping a tight arm around Ronald’s shoulders.

“You had better be sure the demon and Rebecca don’t know you’re here.” William warns, “they’re waiting for their third sacrifice and that is most certainly you.”

Eric nods, determination on his face, “I won’t. I made a promise to Al that I’ll go home to him.” He sighs, a sound of relief and trepidation, “I’m just…I’m just really glad to see that yer both alive.”

“For the most part.” Ronald mutters, his eyes closed.

William forces himself off the couch and carefully helps Ronald lay down, making sure the younger reaper’s head was resting on the pillow. “Rest, Knox.”

Ronald’s eyelids flutter open just a bit, revealing a tired, vulnerable gaze. “What about you?”

“I will soon, but for now, try to get some sleep, alright? Let your body recover.”

Ronald looks like he wants to argue, to demand that William rest with him, but his body eventually won the fight. His eyelids slip closed and it takes only a few seconds before his breathing evens out and he’s asleep.

Eric sighs, running his fingers through his hair. “Ye know, a part of me ne’er expected to see you two again.”

William nods, his gaze distant. “I had points where I didn’t think we’d see anyone else again either.” he glances at Eric, before taking a deep breath. “Slingby, I–”

Eric surprises him by pulling him into a tight hug. “I know Spears. I know.” William hesitates for a second, before his rigid shoulders finally relax and he allows himself to sink into the embrace, wrapping his arms around Eric in turn. He holds William like that for a quiet moment before he tells him, “Callum told Alan and I everything.” he pulls back, just enough to smirk. “Besides, already took out me anger on him.”

“Yes, Rose told us you knocked my father unconscious." William’s face remains a mask of polite disapproval, but a spark of something, almost like amusement, flickers in his eyes. “Althought I don’t condone such acts, I…can’t say I didn’t want to do the same many times over the years.”

Eric’s smirk widens. “Yer welcome then.” he glances back at Ronald. “What about you? Ready to sleep?”

William shakes his head. “No. Not right now at least. Instead, I…well, I want us to talk.”

“Talk?”

“There’s more history between us, between our families, than either of us knew and I’d like to discuss it, if possible.”

Eric looks William up and down before fully releasing the other reaper and moving to the couch, patting the cushions next to him. “Alright Will. Let’s talk.”

Chapter Text

He made a promise to a child named Oliver. That’s what William told him when he asked why the other reaper chose to stay, a promise William felt compelled to keep. In that sense, Eric understood why he wouldn’t go home, sure himself that he’d feel the same way but on the other hand, surely going home then coming back would be the better option. Then he has to remind himself that Haven most likely had a hand in his choice. An influence he’s not yet felt. He wasn’t sure if it was because he wasn’t in Haven that long, but he’s thankful that it still feels like he’s fully conscious of all his thoughts and whims.

As he stares out the window of the hotel room, his mind wanders a bit while doing his best to remain on high alert.  Supposedly the demon would know he was here, Rebecca and the creature waiting for the third sacrifice. A part of him dared them to try and take him, or any of them, because with a husband to return to and a friend (William as well) to bring home, nothing would stand in his way. He wasn’t injured like William and Ronald were and he knows what’s real and what’s an illusion. He knows he has the mental fortitude to hold out against whatever trick Haven plans to play on him, not that he intended to be here longer than they needed to be.

It’d been two hours since he freed William and Ronald from that cell which meant only five more hours until eight. Five more hours until he could get them home. He wasn’t kidding when he told William he was sending them back home while he searched for Kimiko on his own. He wasn’t even sure where the woman would be, and he doubted the town would make it easy on him.

Pulling his eyes away from the window, he turns his attention toward the bed where Ronald’s still sound asleep, cuddled up in William’s arms. The older reaper appeared to be dozing himself; his eyes weren’t fully closed and his fingers played affectionately with Ronald’s hair. Boyfriend. That was the term William used to describe his and Ronald’s relationship and Eric wouldn’t lie, that surprised him. He thought he knew Ronald on a deeper level but clearly, either the younger reaper wasn’t comfortable sharing his interests in men with him, or he never allowed himself to try. The cynical part of Eric thinks this is just something born of desperation and loneliness, that Ronald would never really consider their superior as a romantic interest and along that same vein, William would never consider Ronald one either. Ronald was the opposite of Alan in many ways and Eric didn’t see that being William’s type. Then again, he didn't think much of William to begin with, so maybe this cynicism was born from this newly found contempt for the Spears family. Did William’s parents kill his? No. Did they have a hand in introducing them to Haven and telling them nothing about how cult-like said town was? Absolutely. William’s parents were the reason his own were brought to Haven in the first place. The reason they willingly signed the contract.

He shifts, holding his arms tighter against his chest, the phantom weight of a contract he never signed weighing on his shoulders. He scowls now, cracking his knuckles. Maybe in that vein, why would he bother trying to save Kimiko? Whatever happened to her here would be her rightful punishment.

Movement from the bed snaps his thoughts back to the present as William pulls Ronald just that little bit closer, his eyes finally closed. No. That wouldn't be fair to William. Just because he lost his own family, that didn’t mean William deserved to lose a part of his. Callum already pleaded for her return and he’d honor that plea. Haven wants him to question himself, to question his motives and his loyalty. Thus, as long as he held steady in his truth, Haven wouldn’t affect him.

He rubs the back of his neck then stretches out his spine. As alert as he may be, that didn’t mean it was comfortable. He’d experienced this kind of discomfort before, staking out to watch a soul before collection, he just never thought that experience would transfer to preparing himself for a demon attack that wanted to sacrifice him. What would the sacrifice even do? Regain the demon’s power? Would it create Haven anew? To punish this Ronan child? He didn’t have all the details, neither did Ronald or William, which made him all the more eager to leave.

“Yer sure this place is safe?”

“Fer now, any place is safer than bein’ out there. We just need to lie low fer a couple months then the three o’ us can go anywhere we want.” Eric snaps his attention to the door. Voices? A man and a woman…they sound vaguely familiar… “After that we can even enroll him in the academy.”

“With his personality, he’ll have no problem makin’ friends.” There was a sigh. “But fer now, yer right. We’re safer here.” Eric removes himself from the window, walking right up to the door, “I’m sure he’ll have no issues making friends here as well.”

“No. Our lad won’t.”

“Although, I want you to promise me one thing.”

“Anythin’ hen.”

“No matter what happens, no matter where we go, promise me that we’ll all stay t’gether.”

Eric presses his hand to the wood, the grain cool and solid beneath his palm. The voices may not be recognised fully by his mind, but his heart drops as he hears them. These were the two beings his very soul ached for, the two he mourns he never got to remember, never got to keep and that's exactly what Haven was prying off of. “I see.” he whispers to himself, a bitter simile twisting his lips, “ye think I’m gonna fall for this, huh? Think I’m gonna open the door and let ye in? I know me parents are dead.” he lowers his hand from the door, gathering all his resolve to take a step back, “yer not changin’ the past.” he’s strong enough to know when his emotions are being pried upon.

Until it’s someone else.

He flinches when there’s someone suddenly pounding against the door, banging their fists hard enough the wood itself bends each time it's hit. “Eric!”

His breath stutters. “Alan…?”

“Eric! Eric, please, open this door!”

“Yer not supposed to be ‘ere.”

“I followed you to Haven alright?! I was worried you’d never come home! Please! S-Something’s after me!”

It sounds exactly like Alan. He’s painfully aware of what fear sounds like coming from his husband but he should know this is another trick, and yet, “I–”

“Please!” he hears Alan beg, his breathing becoming laboured, a telltale sign Eric’s heard many times before, “E-Eric!” The cry of pain echoes in Eric’s skull, a phantom blow that makes his entire body tense. “E–Er–ic!” He couldn't take any chances. If this was Alan, he needed to help. He needed to be Alan’s rock as the thorns–

“Eric.”

The weight of a hand on his shoulder pulls him from his delusions. He’s staring at the door, breathing hard, a quiet falling over him as he no longer hears Alan nor his parents. He doesn’t realise his hands are shaking until he curls his fingers into fists and he forcefully turns his head toward the voice that he knows is real. William’s looking at him with concern, Ronald mirroring the expression from where he’s sat up on the bed. “Spears, I–”

“I know.” William tells him. “You are not the first this town has pried upon.”

He scowls and kicks the door, the flimsy wood rattling against the frame. “It sounded so much like Alan. It sounded like if I didn’t open tha’ door, I’d ‘ave lost ‘im.”

“It wasn’t Alan.” William assures him, voice steady, grounding the older reaper who needs a few moments to come back to himself.

Eric inhales then exhales, a slow, deliberate release of that tension building inside him. He trusts William. He and Ronald have been in Haven for long enough to know what it’s capable of, he hopes. “Yer right. Tha’ wasn’t Alan.”

William gives his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “Come and sit down.”

Eric nods, taking William’s offer to sit on the edge of the bed. He scrubs at his face, still coming to grips that whatever it was behind that door could sound so much like his husband. “Fuck.” he whispers to himself.

Ronald kneels next to Eric, running his good hand over Eric’s shoulders. He opens his mouth to offer a few words of comfort before a thought crosses his mind and he immediately directs his question to William, “what if it was one of those doppelgänger’s?!”

Eric shakes his head. “Can’t be.”

“It can’t?”

“No.” Eric lowers his hands, resting his arms on his knees. “Haven can only create a doppelgänger if ye’ve entered it. Alan’s ne’er set foot in this place, in any version of it, so it wouldn’t be able to make an alternate version of ‘im.”

William hums. “I suppose that makes sense. Knox and I haven’t seen any alternate versions of anyone that’s never been to Haven. I suppose voices are easier to replicate when Haven doesn’t need a physical form to go with it.”

Ronald shivers. “I’m gonna be really happy to be home and away from any alternate versions of us. All this guessin’ and paranoia is enough to drive someone up the wall!”

“Ye gotta kill ‘em yerselves if ye want them gone.” Eric tells him. “That’s what Callum told Al and I. If ye want to get rid of yer alternate selves, ye gotta kill ‘em.”

Ronald swallows, terror in his eyes, “but, I’ve never even met the other me! How am I supposed to kill him?!”

William shifts a tad uncomfortably. “Knox has a point and I doubt I could take my scythe to Knox in any form.”

Eric sighs, his shoulders slumped, “sorry lads, but that’s how it’s gotta be done. That’s what yer da’ told us.” he says to William. “He already killed his own alternate apparently."

William tilts his head curiously. “When?”

“When Haven was still…alive, I guess.”

“Meaning doppelgänger’s are not some new creation of whatever Haven’s become. Interesting.”

“I’m guessin’ the demon just likes fuckin’ with people.” Ronald suggests, “I mean, knowing demons in general, it adds up, right?”

“Indeed it does. I suppose knowing that, you needn’t worry that you’ll find Alan wandering the streets.”

“Yeah. I’ll just hear ‘im callin’ out fer me.” he grunts, straightening his back, glaring at the door. “Sounded like it was the thorns. Like I was gonna lose ‘im if I didn’t help.”

“And now you know it wasn’t real.” William assures him again.

“Aye. Still, doesn’t make it easier to hear it.”

“Well…no. It wouldn’t.”

Eric rolls his shoulders, opting to change subjects to get the sound of Alan begging for him out of his head. “How’s yer hand Ron?”

The corner of Ronald’s lips twitch. “Not sure and I don’t wanna look.”

“It’s best if we do.” William says.

Ronald frowns, then offers out his hand, pointedly keeping his eyes in the opposite direction. Eric takes that hand, carefully unwrapping the bandages. For the quick work that he did to stitch and dress it, the wound itself doesn’t look all that bad. Still, Ronald’s missing one of his fingers and even for him, it’s not easy to look at. “How the hell did this happen?”

William crosses his arms. “Knox decided to play hero. It was my burden to shoulder, but Knox insisted he take the punishment instead.”

“I…I just didn’t wanna see you hurt anymore.” Ronald says quietly, his voice gentle, subtly filled with the concern and care for William that Eric assumed was a fleeting thing earlier.

William clearly sees how his words were taken harsher than he meant them to be, so he gently coaxes Ronald’s head toward his where he gently places a kiss on the corner of Ronald’s lips, “and I am grateful. Please do not think I’m not.”

Eric blinks because the idea of seeing William affectionate was not something he’d thought he’d ever see. “Well shit. I know ye said you two were t’gether, but, seein’ it is somethin’ else.”

William glances at him, then back at the slightly dazed yet smitten expression on Ronald’s face. “Yes, well, Knox has earned it.”

Eric smirks. “It’s cute.”

“Cute.” William scoffs. “Hardly the term I’d use.”

“Yeah? What word would ye use then?”

William glances back at Ronald then to Eric again, “caring.”

“What about loving?”

Ronald reflectively flinches at the word. “Maybe in the future.”

Eric looks between the two then understands. He gets it. Telling someone you loved them was a big step and they’ve not even traversed outside of Haven together yet. He can’t say if their relationship will survive back in their realm but he can hope because for the most part, Ronald looks genuinely happy with someone, and Eric’s seen many of Ronald’s relationships before. They were often short and relied on sex more than anything. Right, so maybe they weren’t proper relationships save one or two and he still doesn’t trust William completely, but for now, he’ll be happy for Ronald. “How long until we’re able to leave?” William asks. “After what you’ve just experienced Eric, Haven may be coming for you as well.”

“Five hours.” Eric answers, staring back out the window. “Just have to hold out five more hours.”

“I’m not sure this hotel room is the place to do it.”

“Because Haven knows we’re here?”

“Prescisly.” he frowns, unable to even think of another place that would even be considered safe, “then again, I’m not sure where we could go that Haven wouldn’t know.”

“Well, we gotta get to Eric’s place, right? Isn’t that where the gateway is?” Ronald states.

“My place?” Eric asks.

“Your old home, the place you used to live when you and your parents were here.” William answers, arms crossed, “that is the only gateway Knox and I know of.”

His childhood home. That’s where Kimiko took him the very first time he visited Haven and he’d been too afraid to step foot inside it. A part of him regretted it, believing he’d never have that chance again and maybe if he had the first time, Kimiko wouldn’t have been taken and replaced. “Oh! Wait, I got somethin’ for you.” Ronald says, pulling a neatly folded picture from his pocket. “I was gonna give this to you when we got outta here and I saw you again.”

Eric takes the picture, carefully unfolding it. The moment he lays eyes on the picture, a tidal wave of emotions rushes over him. It’s the only real photo he has of him and his parents; his mother, his father, two beings he barely remembers but knows they cared so deeply for him. The feeling is a sharp ache in his chest, a deep regret, mourning for the life he never got to have. “I hate this fuckin’ place.” he whispers under his breath. “Never gonna come back here once we’re gone.”

“I believe that’s true for all of us.” William agrees, eyes sympathetic.

Eric’s gaze remains fixed on the small photograph. The faces of his mother and father, captured in a moment of pure joy, a life he doesn’t know. The voice of Alan behind that door keeps his emotions raw, a fresh wound, and this picture digs that knife even deeper into his heart. He swallows hard, his anger, a cold, hard knot in his stomach. Haven took his family, tried to twist his mind with the voice of his husband and now taunted him with the only way back to their home, being his old one. He carefully tucks the photo into his pocket, a vow to himself that he would get out and return to the grave of his parents to promise them that he holds no grudges against them, knowing they only did what they thought they needed to/ That they were tricked and lied to.

He looks back at William and Ronald, the younger reaper a little pale, leaning into William who was rubbing circles on his back. They’ve been here long enough to know the pain he’s enduring; they’ve been hunted and tortured, had their sanity questioned by this malevolent force and yet, they still had trust in each other, something Eric needs to hold onto as well. “Five hours.” Eric says again, his voice tight. “Yer right Spears, this room isn’t safe anymore.”

William looks up, holding Ronald just that little bit closer. “Which is why I suggest we make a move to leave and hold up the best we can where the gateway is.” he turns his eyes to the window. “The only problem with that, is Haven itself. I have no doubt that it’ll know we’re moving locations.”

“We don’t need to worry about that Spears.” Eric tells him, standing up to grab his scythe, “we have proper weapons. Whatever Haven throws at us, we’ll fight off.”

As if to prove him wrong, a sudden gust of wind whistles through the small gaps in the window. William and Ronald share a look before he walks up to the window and stares out it. There, in the distance, is the same storm that attacked them before. “I’d hate to dampen your parade, Slingby, but I doubt you can fight…that.”

Eric immediately stands next to William, eyes widening when he sees the storm coming their way. The next thing he sees is a rock being hurled in their direction and instantly, he tackles William to the floor as the rock shatters the window, showering them in glass. “Fuck.” Eric cusses, lifting off of William, looking down at him, “ye alright?”

“I…yes.” William nods. “Thank you.” Both wince as another few rocks are thrown through the window and then the howling starts. The screaming of a demon that’s angered it doesn’t have who it wants. 

Eric lifts off William enough to gesture for Ronald to join them and the youngest reaper throws himself off the bed to hug William tightly, Eric guarding them both with his own body as the storm approaches. The wind slams the door shut, pinning it to the wall with such force that the old wood groans in protest. The distant screaming of the demon grows louder, closer and Ronald, whose arms are already wrapped tightly around William’s waist, buries his face in the front of his superior’s shirt. He feels William shiver under his touch, a small tremor that has nothing to do with the sudden frozen air. Eric presses them both closer against the wall, his strong arms wrapped protectively around William’s back.

The wind outside is a physical force now, much like it was before, a roaring entity that tears at the hotel. Broken glass from the shattered windows flies in on a sharp gust, peppering the opposite wall like tiny, deadly darts. Dust and debris whirl through the room, making it harder to breathe. The wooden floorboards in the hallway creak and groan as the wind tears at them, mimicking the footsteps of whatever Ronald and William heard their first night here.

A shadow flashes past the broken window so fast that it’s barely there, but the scent of brimstone and decay fills the air. The demon’s scream is right outside now, a high-pitched shriek that vibrates through the entire building. Eric holds them both tighter, his eyes locked on the floor next to William’s head, his hand gripping tightly to the handle of his scythe. Ronald clings to William, his heart pounding a frantic rhythm against the other man’s chest, his mind trying to place him somewhere else instead of facing the imminent danger they’re in.

And then, abruptly, the screaming cuts out, leaving a ringing silence. The wind dies down just as suddenly and the deafening roar is replaced by a low, unsettling hum. The debris stops flying and the dust begins to settle, coating everything in a fine, grey film. The hotel room is left in a state of eerie stillness, the only other sound the beating of frantic hearts and soft hiss of Eric’s breathing.

Ronald, who’s still buried in William’s chest, shivers and William’s hand comes up to rest on his head. “It’s gone.” William whispers. Ronald lifts his head, his eyes wide as he looks at William, then to Eric. The oldest reaper winces, forcing himself up, using the lip of the window to pull himself to stand. He stares out of it, noting how much darker the sky has gotten, how the storm seems to have left an almost convenient path for them to follow. “Slingby, you’re injured.”

Eric winces, looking over his shoulder as William frowns at his back. He hadn’t outright felt the wounds until William mentioned them, but now he’s feeling the result of being a living shield for the other two. He feels like his back has been torn into, like tiny knives stabbed at him over and over again. “Yeah…yeah, feel it now.”

William brushes the dust from Eric’s shoulders as Ronald quickly grabs the blanket from the bed and wafts it a few times to rid it of the same dust, “c’mon. Lay down.” he urges.

Eric shakes his head. “I’m fine.”

“Something we all have said without taking our injuries seriously.” William tells him. “If you want to return home, then please, let us take a look at the very least.”

He knows William and Ronald have a point. Callum said that any injuries received in Haven would take a long time to heal out of it if not treated as soon as possible, so it really would be best to have it looked at. “Fine.” He sets his scythe against the foot of the bed, before slowly removing his blazer and shirt, a process William helps with as he notices the pained look on Eric’s face.

“Seems you’ll be needing a tailor.” William comments, showing him the ripped fabric of said items.

“Aye.” he rolls his shoulders, wincing as that pulls and tugs on a few of the cuts. “Well? How’s it look?”

“You can lay–”

“Answer me Spears.”

William frowns, giving him a deadpan look before tracing his fingers carefully around the flesh that was still untouched. “They’re bleeding but they’re not overly deep.” he leans a little closer, “however, there’s some small rocks lodged here. Knox, can you grab me the medical kit?”

“Got it!”

Eric rolls his shoulders again only to get a smack on the side of one, “oi!”

“Don’t move.” William scolds. “You’ll only pull them open more.”

Eric sighs, rolling his eyes out of William’s view. “Got the bag!” Ronald announces.

“Then find me a pair of tweezers if you would.”

Ronald digs through the bag before producing what William asked, handing them to the older reaper. William nods his thanks to Ronald before beginning to meticulously pluck the small rocks and bits of glass from Eric’s cuts. Eric’s tense but doesn’t complain this time, just keeps his eyes locked ahead of him as he tells himself this is what Alan would have wanted him to do as well. “One more.” Willam tells him as he plucks the final small pebble from the cut. “Right, that’s that done.” he nods to Ronald, “disinfect please.”

Ronald hands him the small bottle and cotton ball. The liquid stings as William applies it gently around the wounds; Eric sucks in a sharp breath, trying to keep his shoulders from tensing. “Shit that stuff burns.”

“Oh I know that very well considering what you did to my hand.” William comments, “now, hold still a little longer. I’m almost done.” he continues to work as quickly as he can, cleaning the wounds while Ronald gets the bandages ready. William doubts they’re really needed but in this place, it would be best to be safe then sorry. He takes the offered end from Ronald and carefully wraps the bandages around Eric’s chest twice before securing the other end with a small piece of medical tape. “There. Done.” William says, stepping back as Eric turns around. “They’re small but you’ll be feeling it for a bit.”

Eric throws back on his dress shirt and blazer then habitually rolls his shoulders a third time, feeling exactly that. “Aye, well, thank you Spears.”

“I believe Knox and I should be thanking you.” William tells him. “For protecting us.”

“Yeah.” Ronald pips up with a sharp, decisive nod. “I mean, Will and I were pretty much untouched by that storm ‘cuz of you.”

Eric rubs the back of his neck, "instincts just kinda kicked in.”

“And that does not mean you don’t deserve a thank you.” William assures him, touching his shoulder. “Thank you, Eric.”

Eric doesn’t respond to that, instead he turns to grab William’s scythe from where it was blown to the floor and tosses it to the other reaper, “ye can thank me when we get the hell outta here.”

William catches his scythe, observing it again like the object is foreign in his hand before nodding, “you’re right. That should be our only priority right now.”

Eric smirks. “Wha’? Not gonna fight me on goin’ home while I look fer Kimiko on me own?”

“I will go home but then I’ll return with reinforcements to help.”

Eric sighs then chuckles, “aye. Fine. That works.” he looks at Ronald. “Ready to go lad?”

“Please.”

Once everything is gathered, they make their way down to the lobby of the hotel where there is indeed, a strange path laid out for them to follow; one that’s lined either side with splinters of wood, rocks and glass. “Riiight.” Ronald clicks his tongue. “So, it’s not just me that’s gettin’ a real bad feelin’ from this?”

“It’s not.” William agrees, adjusting the medical bag on his shoulder.

“Doesn’t mean we gotta follow it.” Eric says, the straight side of his scythe resting on his shoulder, “ye two know where we need to go and I’ll follow.” so they do. Eric puts his trust in William and Ronald to lead them in the right direction. He still keeps himself on high alert, ready to defend them if needed, being the least injured of the three but then, his mind is taken by something else. He turns his head just slightly and there, far off in the distance, is himself as a child. He stops dead in his tracks, watching as two figures stand next to him, the woman hugging him to her side while the man gestures widely with his hands as if telling an exaggerated story. He sees the smile on his own young face, the woman clearly amused as well before the man outright scoops up his child self and throws him playfully up in the air. He’s laughing, just like they are. They’re a family. They’re his family. A family he–

”Don’t look.” William’s voice whispers next to him. “It’s another trick.”

So he blinks and the image dissolves, replaced by the same abandoned, broken road they’ve been walking down. He swallows the bitter taste of resentment and forces himself to continue on with the other two. Haven needed to be destroyed. Haven needed to be removed entirely from its existence in every plane it’s sunken its demonic influence in but right now, he needs to focus on the mission ahead of them. He needs to get William and Ronald home.

Despite Eric not understanding Haven the way Ronald and William have, he remembers some of the way to his home when Kimiko took him here the first time, so when the buildings they past and the street they walk is not at all familiar to him, he begins to wonder if the other two even know where they’re going. Taking one look at Ronald’s face who looks as confused as he feels, validates his own feelings. William, of course, keeps his face stoic, so there’s no tell to what he’s thinking but looking down, Eric realises with a dawning horror that, despite their effort, they’ve been walking the path laid out for them. A path that leads them toward a park and when they do come to a stop, they’re standing right in front of a grand statue of the founder of Haven. “Erm, so, this isn’t at all where we should be.” Ronald comments, sliding more behind William.

“No. It’s not.” William agrees, his eyes locked on the statue ahead of them. “Just like before, there’s something off about this statue.”

“Like it’s watching us, right?”

“Exactly like it is.”

Eric observes the statue himself then takes a step toward it, using his scythe to slash at it. For a weapon that can cut through anything, he’s not the only one horrifyingly amazed to see the statue untouched by the strike. “Back it up and let’s go.” Eric commands, stepping back himself.

Ronald’s already spun on his heels, yanking William to turn with him while Eric takes up the rear, trying to usher them to move quicker until the sound of cracking stone comes from behind. Eric’s the first to turn, watching as cracks appear down the front of the statue, cutting right through the face. A deeper crack follows, spiderwebbing out from the initial split and turning the stone to a brittle, crumbling mess, the sound is like a thousand snapping bones, echoing the silence of the entire town. The cracks continued to deepen, chunks of rock beginning to fall away, revealing a dark, pulsing light within. The ground beneath their feet begins trembling, a low thrumming that vibrates through their shoes and up their legs. “Oh fuck me.” Eric cusses, readying himself.

“Stay back Knox.” William orders, knowing the younger reaper is the only one without a scythe.

“Please don’t die.” Ronald tells William, gripping tightly to the back of his shirt. “You or Eric.”

The statue’s head falls away with a tremendous crack and the life inside flares, blindingly for a moment before fading to a low, malevolent, glow. The remaining stone crumbles completely, revealing a very real demon that the statue was one a tribute to. It steps down from the pedestal and bends to pick up its head. The eyes are open now, locked on the three as the body secures it back on its shoulders, twisting it to lock it in place. With that sickening crack, the sky above them darkens completely, sucking up any light left, leaving the low glow of the fissures that mar the demon’s body an unsettling beacon in the dark.

Lighting flashes across the sky followed by a horribly loud crack of thunder, lighting up the creature’s face for a fraction of a second, a second that shows them the horrific smile on the demon’s lips. “Finally.” speaks the demon, taking a step toward them. “I have you.” lightning flashes again and instantly, they’re surrounded by the same mob that Rebecca sent after William and Ronald in the school, that low chanting echoing all around them. “I never expected such strife from those that agreed to the contact and yet, here you three are. Living proof that a contract means nothing.”

“Yer contract was shite!” Eric snaps. “Who the hell would agree to it?!”

“Your parents did.”

“They were lied to! They weren’t told about the clause until after!"

“And yet, they did not think twice about Haven? About why this place could be as safe as it was?”

Eric grits his teeth. “Yer not changin’ my mind.”

“I suppose not, no.” His crimson eyes then fall to Ronald. “However, I don’t much care for either you or the Spears boy. Right now, I want him.” he throws out his arms and a powerful gush of air throws William and Eric aside as the demon approaches Ronald. “I’m pleased to see you.”

“I’m not!” Ronald shouts, backing up. “Leave me the hell alone!”

“Now, now, is that anyway to talk to your father?”

“You’re not–!” his arms are grabbed by the mob, preventing him from moving any further, “let go!” he demands as he struggles, trying to rip his arms free.

“A shame.” the demon sighs, grabbing Ronald’s wrist, observing the four fingers of his hand. Ronald winces, the missing finger becoming a phantom, gnawing ache in his hand. “Bold and stupid of you to accept a punishment not meant for you.”

“He didn’t deserve it!”

“No? Are liars meant to go unpunished then?”

“He didn’t lie! Oliver wasn't real!”

The demon grins, cupping Ronald’s cheek as he leans in closer, “ah. Just like you.” The mob’s hymn swells around them and black smoke erupts from the demon’s hand, enveloping Ronald instantly. It swirls around him, thick and suffocating. Ronald’s shouts are swallowed by the darkness as a dizzying, sickening sense of falling takes over. He feels like he’s plummeting through an endless void, a sensation of falling tangled with the terror of drowning in an inky abyss. The world spins, his stomach lurches, screams dying in his throat.

…

Then, with a gentle bump, it all stops. He jolts upwards, breathing heavily as the world around him comes into focus. He’s in a child’s bedroom; the air is cool and the only light source is a flickering candle on a small wooden table. The room is furnished with a simple bed, a dresser, a rocking chair and a wooden chest overflowing with various toys. He snaps his eyes to the single window and sees the night sky out it. The stars are bright and twinkling, the moon’s glow shining through the loosely draped curtains.

He hears a low hum and he turns his head to the sound. Rebecca sits on the once empty rocking chair, a gentle smile on her lips as she sways back and forth, admiring the photo from the locket that she holds her hands. He struggles to say anything for a moment, almost like he’s lost the ability to speak. Swallowing once, he tries again, “....m-mum…?”

Her humming stops as she looks at him and a relieved smile graces her lips. “Yes my dear. It’s me. You’re home.”

Home? He exhales out slowly, his breath shaking as he does. “Then…then is that who you really are? Mum?”

“It is.” She holds the photo close to her chest as she approaches the bed, using one hand to brush back his bangs, “I’m sorry.”

Ronald blinks. “Sorry…?”

“Surely I don’t need to tell you what for.”

He swallows. “I…guess not. No.”

She sits next to him, her eyes displaying all the turmoil she’s feeling inside. “It was never meant to go this way. When Rose took you, you were never meant to come back.”

“You knew?”

“Of course. She took what made me, me, and presented herself as an alternate version. At least, that’s how the demon explained it when she was created. She had the consciousness that I long lost under his influence.”

Ronald tucks his legs under himself, feeling at ease in this space, like nothing evil could ever touch him here. “So, you admit you were?”

“Of course.” she cups Ronald’s cheek, “it was the only reason why I believed getting rid of you was a good thing.”

Ronald presses her hand harder against his skin, grounding himself in this strange new reality. “But…I was told it was because you wanted to keep Ronan.”

Her smile is now more melancholic as she strokes her thumb across his cheek, “had I not been so grief stricken and thought the contract through, I would have realised what a horrible idea it was. Had I been in my right mind, I could not have given up one of my sons.” she stands straight, looking down at the photo she cherishes. “As I told you, this is the last photo I have of you. The photo Ronan was desperate to destroy, so I needed to hide it. He could not comprehend that there was still a part of me that loved another child like I was meant to love him.”

Ronald studies his mother before asking his next question, “Ronan is your son, right?”

“He is. Yes.” her eyes start to grow wet, “when I lost him, when I held his body in my arms completely void of life, I felt nothing but anger. I wanted to end the Board myself, to put them through the same pain that, not just I, but other reapers endured that day because of their lack of action. They were told that tear was there, that it was a weak point, but they did nothing to fix it.” she strokes her thumb over the picture, “you’ve met Callum and Kimiko by now and you know they shared my contempt for the Board. It was the demon’s way of prying on our instincts. On our emotions that do little to separate us from humans.”

Ronald frowns at her, grabbing at the fabric over his own heart, “I mean, I understood why you’d be driven to do what you did. I just…”

“I know but I was weak.” she admits. “The demon found me at my lowest and pried on those emotions. While I can blame his influence all I like, I know a part of me turned a blind eye to all of it.”

Ronald can’t say for certain what’s happening right now, with his mother as lucid as she is but this is the only way he’s going to get the answers he needs to hear. “Ronan was your real kid, right?”

Reecca nods. “He was. He was ten when he was killed and I still remember the exact time I’d found him.” she tilts her head back to control her tears, “in the early morning at four-eighteen is when I held him for the last time.” she swallows the lump in her throat, “his father and I warned him many times to stay away from that tear, but he was a young, curious child that, like many other children, thought he was invulnerable.” She lowers her head again, a tear cascading down her cheek, “from what I was told, his death was swift at least. He was one of the first casualties upon the demon ripping through that tear.”

Ronald frowns and he wants to reach out to offer her comfort, but he keeps his hands firmly to himself. “I’m sorry.”

She smiles solemnly at him. “Thank you.” it’s a whisper as more tears slip down her cheeks. “You know, Ronald, you look how I imagined Ronan would if he had the chance to grow.”

“I do?”

“Yes. The Ronan the demon gave to me, is only Ronan in name. In the delusions he has me under, I did not see the imperfections, the changes. The demon only gave me my son in bits and pieces and the parts of him the demon removed, he gave to you.”

Ronald blinks, his hand over his heart tightening in his shirt. “Me…?”

“Yes.” She reaches out for Ronald again, stroking back his hair, “you are Ronan to me. Not Ronald. Not some sacrifice, but the boy I lost many years ago.” she wipes at her eyes, sniffling as she fights back more tears, “although, I suppose you are Ronald now, aren’t you?”

Ronald allows her to take his hand, “you mean, I’m not really a creation?”

“You were a soul the demon chose to split, which is why Rose knew it would be best to keep you as far away from Haven as possible. To chase you away, to make sure you wanted nothing to do with your family for she feared Haven would call to you.”

“Is that what happened?”

“Yes. Unfortunately, William just so happened to be with you when it called you back.”

Ronald frowns, feeling an ache in his chest. “It’s my fault this happened to him?”

“I wouldn’t say it was your fault, my dear. Just…wrong place and wrong time.”

“Yeah…” he whispers, looking down, “wrong place. Wrong time.”

“You should be thankful you had someone here willing to fight for you.”

“Not when he gets the injuries he does!”

“Ronald,” she soothes, “it’s alright. Everything will be alright now.”

A tear slips from his eyes, running a trail down his cheek. “It won't be alright though.” he whispers, voice cracking with the emotions that are starting to overwhelm him. He feels the tears welling up, a feeling he’s been fighting for what feels like forever. He’d been holding it together, trying to be strong, but he can’t anymore. “I just wanted to be a good reaper.” he chokes out, his composer cracking, “I just wanted to be useful.”

His mother wraps her arms around him, pulling him into a warm, comforting embrace. It’s the first time he’s ever been hugged by her, the first time he’s ever felt maternal affection and the relief is immediate. He buries his face in her shoulder and the damn breaks. He sobs, his shoulders shaking. All the pain, the hurt, the fear he’d been hiding, comes pouring out. He clutches at her, holding onto her like she’s a lifeline and she holds him just as tightly, stroking back his hair and murmuring soft reassurances.

He feels safe. Protected. The world around him begins to blur, the colours fading into a soft, comforting grey. Even his own sobs are slowly drowned out by his mother’s comforting words as the rest of the world fades completely.

********************

“Ron!” Eric shouts.

“Knox!” William cries out, reaching for Ronald’s unconscious body in the demon’s arms, only to be held back by the members of the mob. “Reutrn him demon!”

The demon lazily switches his gaze between William and Ronald’s body that he holds. “I was not the one who required three of you. Rebecca only assumed if she had all of you, she would gain favour with me once more. Instead, all I need is retribution for the sacrifice she gave me the last time. A Knox for a Knox as it were.”

William practically growls through his gritted teeth, “you dare hurt him and I–!”

“You are full of threats, Mr. Spears but I do not see you in the position to carry them out.” he turns his back to them, "imprison them. Kill them. It doesn't matter to me.”

As the demon vanishes with Ronald, Eric is already defending him and William from the mob that continues to enclose on them, but it feels like no matter how many he kills, there’s just more and more that continue to fill those numbers, “Spears!” he shouts, seeing how the other reaper is too distracted by Ronald’s kidnapping to focus on much else, “help!”

Eric’s shout snaps him from his own mind and whatever rage William could not take out of the demon, he takes out on the cult members, each one he strikes down vanishing into a plume of smoke, only for that smoke to form again into another being.

It was infinite.

Eric usually prides himself on his stamina, but he’s starting to run out of steam; each slash becomes less and less precise until his energy is zapped from him completely. He drops to his knees, scythe clattering at his side, trying to find even an ounce more of strength to continue. He admires William for a moment, guessing the anger is fueling his energy as he continues to strike down the members that continue to enclose in on them.

Just as he thinks he’s not going to see Alan again, there’s a wind that spears through the crowd and the cultists disperse into smokey black clouds. William stares at the empty space before his eyes and Eric looks up to see a child standing in front of them. He doesn’t recognise him, but William seems to. “You…you’re Ronan?”

The child that mimics the appearance of the demon with the eyes of a reaper, nods. “Yes.”

Eric eyes the boy. “Yer fuckin’ kiddin’ me. He really is a kid.”

“He is.” William slowly lowers his scythe just a tad, “and he seems to be social.”

“Only because my ‘father’ is taking things a bit too far.”

“How’s tha’ make sense? Wouldn’t you want this place to stay like this?” Eric asks, getting up to his feet and taking up his scythe.

“Will you allow us to talk or will I need to earn you trust first?”

“Considering you’ve caused havoc for us, trust would be nice.” William answers, still unwilling to fully let down his defenses.

“Alright. Then here. My gift to you.” With a snap of his fingers and in a mass of black smoke, a body begins to form and once the smoke disperses, William’s doppelgänger lays there, unconscious and barely breathing. “So there’s no more mix ups."

Eric glances at William, his own shock mirrored on William’s face. He’s staring at his own unconscious form, something Eric believes might take a few moments to even register. “Shit…” he looks at Ronan, “I don’t wanna ask, but shouldn’t I have one too?”

“Oh no. Father destroyed yours long ago since if you returned, he would want to know.” he looks down to the doppelgänger, “he killed the original ones as well but considering they weren’t killed by themselves, they regenerated again once the older version stepped back into Haven. Right now, you’re too new for Haven to create a perfect copy of you.”

William holds his scythe tighter. “I have to kill it for it to never return, correct?” William clarifies, his voice surprisingly calm. He looks over his doppelgänger, his double’s chest barely rising with each ragged breath.

Eric exhales slowly. “Aye. That’s the rule of these things.” 

William then steps forward, hand tight around the trigger of his scythe. His glasses slip a little down his nose; a second feels like an hour as he raises his scythe, the clippers look almost too sharp. Eric immediately turns his head as William brings the scythe down, unwilling to watch his superior be murdered in front of his eyes, a doppelgänger or not. He hears it though, the sound of the clippers spearing through flesh, the strangled last breath the doppelgänger takes before everything falls silent again. “It’s…it is done.”

Eric turns his attention back to William, seeing the weight of his actions slumping his shoulders. He puts his hands on William’s arms, seeing the far away look in William’s eyes and the mixture of disbelief yet relief on his face. “Spears? Ye gonna be alright?”

“I…” he swallows, closing his eyes. “I believe I will be.” he answers after a moment. “There was just something…grotesque watching your own scythe…”

“It’s alright Will.” Eric assures him. “Ye did the right thing.”

William looks at him almost cautiously. “I did?”

“Aye. Now it’s just you.”

William breathes out slowly, finding the strength to stand straight again. “Yes. You’re right.” he inhales then exhales, readjusting his grip on his scythe, finding that new resolve. “Now we only need to be rid of the Knox imposter.”

Ronan claps his hands. “Very well done.” he praises William as that smokey mass returns to take away the doppelgänger’s body, only leaving behind the blood stained ground. “Now, let’s go. There’s only one place where my father doesn’t have ears.”

“And that’s where exactly?”

“Home.”

“Home.” William repeats. “Where Oliver is?”

“Oliver?” Ronan asks with a quirked eyebrow, “do you want to see him again?”

“I…I’d like to know what he is. Why he’s not remembered or known until someone sees him.”

“Because he’s not real. Father made him as a thing to gain your trust and clearly, that worked.”

William frowns. “How could a demon possibly create something so innocent?”

“I’m sure you’ve noticed, but he has had plenty of souls to base Oliver off of.”

Eric scowls. “I hope yer gonna tell us there’s a way to end this prick.”

“Not out in the open like this.” he waves his hand, beckoning them to follow.

Home, as it turned out, was the only building to be completely untouched by time or by the curse. Home was a small little house tucked away near the school. Eric examines every point of interest, feeling he and William are intruding in a place they’re not welcomed but Ronan doesn’t comment on anything yet. Instead, he leads them through the front door and toward the sitting room where he gestures for them to sit. “Father can’t hear us inside here.”

“Why?” William asks, cautiously sitting down as Eric sits next to him, “what’s so special about this place?”

“Mother made it sacred before she was completely consumed by father’s influence."

“Is there a chance to get yer mum back?” Eric asks.

“No. She’s already lost like the rest of the town is.”

“Then what Ronald? How do we save him?” William asks, sitting forward as if he’s ready to do just that the moment knows how to.

Ronan crosses his arms. “You play the song backwards.”

“Song?”

“The song that plays during the ritual. You have to play it backwards during the ceremony. It’s a song made to entrap souls and said souls are giving father the power to keep Haven the way it is, that give him all his strength. If you play it backwards, it’ll release those souls instead and his power will vanish with them.”

“What do ye play the song?” Eric asks.

“The Pipe Organ.”

William studies Ronan for a second before reaching into his pocket and producing the three pipe organ keys he and Ronald gathered. “Then I suppose it was a good thing we went through what he did to retrieve these.”

Eric looks at the keys then back to William, then to the keys again. He blinks once more when he sees the watch around William’s wrist. It’s still ticking which is a good sign, but, wasn’t there something else about it? He shakes his head. That is what Haven wanted. Haven wants him to question everything. He needed to stay steadfast in what he knows is true. “And tha’ll free Ron?”

“It’ll free everyone.” Ronald replies with a shrug.

“Then is that why you threw a rock through that bloody window?” William asks, storing the keys back in his pocket. “Why you wanted Rebecca’s attention on us?”

“Yes. You needed to find the townhall and the pipe organ there and the only way to do that, was for her to know you’re here.”

William frowns, wringing his hand around his wrist. “Then, does freeing everyone mean destroying you?”

“Yes but I’ve had my fun.” he grins, “leaving a permanent mark on you was satisfying to say the least.”

Eric grabs William’s arm when he sees how tense William suddenly gets; the flicker of fire in his eyes. “So wha’? Yer content just…disspearing?”

“I am. Mother’s now some mindless slave to father making it far less fun to taunt her with Ronald’s visage. She even sacrificed me, me, when she promised she never would just to please him. I was supposed to be her blessed child and instead, she threw me away because father demanded a sacrifice."

“Yer an awful child.” Eric comments, momentarily forgetting that Ronan was a demon’s creation.

Again, Ronan shrugs. “My fun is done and over with and I dislike how overpowered my father is. He deserves to pay for what mother did to me. The only power I have here is the curse I’ve put over Haven to prevent father from gaining anymore power.” He looks at William, “and Oliver was created to prevent you from helping me.”

William swallows, pleased Eric’s still holding his arm as it gives him some comfort. “Oliver was just some sentinel then? A way to keep an eye on us? To get us to do what the demon wanted?”

“Yep.”

Eric sees the defeat on William’s face, so he squeezes William’s arm, “lad, it’s alright. I think we all woulda fallen fer a kid in need.”

“But…it should have been obvious.” he glares at Ronan, “and you’re certain you’re not going to use us?”

“Oh but I am using you, just for mutual gain. Father needs Ronald’s sacrifice to regain full power, to put things right…well, right for him.”

“Then that won’t happen.” William announces, standing up. “Knox will not be another death to that creature.”

“Which is exactly why I’m willing to help.”

“What about Kimiko then?” Eric asks, standing as well, “where’s she? And Rose too.”

“Oh Rose has already been consumed,” Ronan replies as if that’s a normal occurrence, “but Kimiko is safe.”

“Safe?” William and Eric ask together.

“Yes. She escaped when you entered, Eric.”

“How?” William asks.

Ronan smiles, rocking back and forth on his heels, “she had some help. Now, less talking and more planning, right? After all, time isn’t infinite, not even in Haven.”

Chapter Text

“Wha’s so special about this hotel room?”

It was cold in Haven when they arrived, a chill in the air that was certainly a tell of what was to come but Eric and him knew what Eric needed to do, regardless of the dangers that lay ahead. “This was the room where Kimiko and I chose to leave Haven.” Callum answers, setting down the medical bag, finally facing Eric once the other reaper closed the door.

Eric leans against the door, glancing around the old, dust covered room. “I guess tha’s why Red and I found Spears’ things here.”

Callum frowns, eyes darting to the window, half expecting to see the town as bright and as colourful as the first day he and Kimiko stepped inside it. “I suppose in some twisted way, Haven wanted him to know this room was safe.”

“Safe.” Eric scoffs. “Doubt any place in that hell is actually safe.”

“This room is. At least, it appears to be.” The hellish influence he’s felt over the rest of the town seems either non-existent here or it's laying dormant. “Now,” Callum continues, facing Eric again, “do you recall what you’re meant to do?”

“Aye. Bring ‘em home.”

“And find Kimiko.”

Eric nods, “don’t worry lad. I’m good at what I do.” he looks down at his scythe he’s been holding, "especially when I have my weapon with me.”

“And William will have his and I hope that will be enough. Haven is not a place you want to underestimate Slingby.”

“I won’t.” Eric assures.

“And you must not doubt yourself.” Callum emphasises, touching Eric’s shoulder. “Stay steadfast in your mission and what you know is true because Haven will try to force you to question everything. Everything, do you understand me? Your relationships, your own life. You need to have the mental fortitude to push Haven away.”

“I can do that.” Eric assures again, “I know what’s real and what’s not, I promise.” Callum has hope, he does, but he knows what Haven is like. He knows even the strongest of minds are susceptible to its awful delusions.

As they settle in for a long wait, Eric double checking the supplies in the medical bag and Callum, watching out the window, there’s a flicker in the air around them; an electric pulse that catches their attention. There’s a rip in reality then, a tear that forces itself open right against the door. Eric takes up his scythe and Calllum summons his own, preparing to face whatever creature comes from beyond as the portal continues to force itself open. And then, instead of some other worldly terror, a child steps through, a young boy, no older than ten. He appears nervous, rubbing at one of his wrists while constantly looking over his shoulder. “I-I wanna he-help…” the child whispers.

“Help?” Callum asks. The boy nods but he’s shaking now, as if terrified he’ll be found doing something he shouldn’t. “Who do you want to help?”

“W-William…R-Ron…”

Eric’s eyes widened slightly, scythe lowering, “ye know where they are?”

“I wanna…help.”

“Eric.” Callum snaps, immediately grabbing Eric’s shoulder when he sees the hopeful look flash in the other reaper’s eyes, “not now. You enter Haven on your own terms.”

“Or I enter now and save ‘em from who the hell knows wha’s wrong.” Eric counters, yanking his shoulder from Callum’s grip. “Sorry Spears, but somehin’ tells me I need to go.”

Eric’s already collecting the medical bag and William’s scythe then rushing through the portal before Callum can even try to persuade him otherwise. Yet, the boy does not follow quite yet. “K-Kimiko…”

Callum instantly perks up. “What? Where?”

“Come…” Despite the reservation he had before, Callum doesn’t hesitate. He immediately follows the child through the portal and while he expected to join Eric on the other side, he finds that’s not the case. Instead, he’s delivered right in front of Haven’s hospital and there, he finds Kimiko fending off a horde of cultists thus he wastes not a second longer to fight by her side. It’s familiar to be working in tandem with his wife and as always, he’s impressed by her stamina, able to be on her feet for as long as she has.

As the last cultist falls, Kimiko immediately turns on him, holding the blade of a familiar knife up to his throat, the blade itself slotting perfectly against the scar William left there. He sees the anger in her eyes, the distrust, assuming he was another trick. He knows words alone would not assure her, so he forces her arm away, using his other hand to yank her close enough for a kiss. He feels her tense before the familiarity finally settles in and she relaxes somewhat into his embrace. “Callum?” she asks once she pulls away.

“You’re still alive.” he says more to himself than her, “as much as I wish we could celebrate reuniting, we need to leave immediately. I don’t know how long the portal will remain open for.”

Yet Kimiko stands her ground. “I am not going anywhere.” she tells him. “William is still here. He will need help.”

Callum frowns, his grip growing tighter on her arm, “he will not leave. Not until he finishes whatever he plans to do here.”

“Then I will help.”

“Kimiko, we need to leave. This is a rare portal open before the gateway has. If we stay, I don’t–”

“I did not marry a coward.” she snaps at him. “I did not flee with a coward.” she stands even straighter, ripping her arm free of his grasp, “I know you do not have faith in your physical abilities but we cannot leave our son to fend for himself while Haven eats at his mind.”

Callum glances back at the portal, seeing it beginning to quiver as it loses strength. There’s little time to argue, so he makes up his mind. “Go. I will stay to look for William.”

“No.”

He can only stare at her. “You’re injured, love. You need–”

“I do not trust you to look for him. You came to London already assuming he was dead. How will I be sure you will even try instead of saving your own self until the portal opens again?”

She’s right. He can’t even argue against that, so he looks down at his hand then removes his wedding ring, offering it to her, “take this. It’ll be my promise to you that I will return as both a husband and a father.”

Kimiko still hesitates but eventually, she slowly takes the ring from him, holding it tightly in her palm. She wants to continue to protest, to even suggest she goes with him, but her injuries are now starting to weigh on her as the adrenaline wears off. Even if she chose to stay, she fears being more of a hindrance than help. “Fine.” she whispers, cupping his cheek, “just be careful.”

“I will.” he promises, pressing her hand closer to his skin. “I’m sure I’ll be able to find him and drag him home the moment the gateway opens.”

Yet Kimiko still looks unconceived, telling him as she strokes her thumb over his cheek, “those who travel a hundred miles regard ninety miles as the halfway mark.”

Callum sighs then, “you’re right. I know. I shouldn’t be hasty.”

“Thank you.” Kimiko whispers, leaning up to place a kiss on his cheek. “Please, focus on coming back alive then coming back quickly.” her lips brush against his skin and he closes his eyes to memorise the feeling, “yoroshiku.”

He nods, turning to watch her leave just as the portal finally fizzes out. He takes a deep breath and secures the grip on his scythe. He has no idea where to begin but he knows he will not return alone.

********************

“I understand why ye did it, but why’d ye have to block the door?” Eric grunts, hoisting himself through a broken window.

“That sounds like a redundant question then.” William replies, following in after.

Eric has his own snarky reply on his tongue but it dies on his lips when he finally sees inside what was his old home. Despite the destruction the storm brought with it, there’s still parts of the home that were perfectly guarded to be free of the storm's wrath, leaving it stuck in the same time that it would have been had Haven not collapsed. “So, this woulda been home…” Eric comments, feeling a tingle of lost memories in the back of his mind. “I…dunno how to feel right now.”

William’s quiet and Eric almost forgets he’s there until the other reaper walks past him. “I suppose this must be quite surreal for you.”

“Ye got that righ’.” he glances around, trying not to let unwanted emotions get in the way of what Ronan sent them here for. “So, a journal. I take it ye know said journal we’re lookin’ for?”

“I do. Knox showed it to me but considering the home’s been thrashed by that storm, I can only imagine it’s been blown to some inconvenient location.”

“Great.” so Eric goes about searching for the journal, doing his best to move past the obvious trinkets his parents left behind, needing to keep his focus. Haven was dead to him, dead to everyone he knew meaning he wasn’t going to indulge in this town longer than he needed too. Of course, it would help if he wasn’t the only one looking. He pauses to confer with William only to see the other reaper is half heartily lifting a few papers and standing up picture frames. “Spears?”

“Hm?”

“That’s all yer gonna do? Or are ye actually gonna help?” he squints then, really taking William in, “or is yer back botherin’ ye? How long do those painkillers last?”

“My back?” he pauses for a moment, as if registering the question. “Ah. It’s fine. The painkillers last quite a while.”

“Okay. Good. Great. Then help.”

With that bit of coaxing, William goes about properly helping Eric search for that journal, despite that, however, Eric still feels like he’s the only one putting in any real effort. William appears to be calmer then he assumed the other reaper would be but then Eric has to ask himself if William’s trying to hide the fact his back is indeed acting up again and William being William, refuses to admit it.

Eventually, after what felt like an hour, Eric’s able to find the journal that had been blown underneath a cabinet against the back wall. He uses his scythe to reach all the way to the back and slides it out, picking it up then dusting the dirt off. “Part of me was kinda expectin’ something more elaborate.”

William looks over his shoulder. “It does appear to be just another journal.”

“Supopse, technically, it is.” he stands up, flipping the journal open. “Right. Let’s find wha’ we need to.” he flips quickly through the pages, barely skimming any of them as he knows time is capable of slipping away within minutes if they’re not careful. “Where the hell is it?”

“I’m sure we could figure out the sequence without the journal.”

“Maybe or maybe we could accidentally make the demon stronger somehow.” he looks at William, “c’mon Spears, even to you that’s gotta sound like a bad idea.”

William sighs, “I know, I do, I just…I’m worried for Ronald.” he admits, adjusting his glasses, “and I feel like we’re wasting time no matter what we do.”

Eric take a moment to think about that reply as William’s actions spoke louder then his words, but he’ll give the other reaper the benefit of the doubt in that William’s still unsure how to really show his true emotions. So he reaches over, putting his hand on Wlliam’s shoulder, “aye, I feel the same way, but we’re better off ‘wasting time’ tryin’ to do this right, then riskin’ Ron’s life by fuckin’ it up.”

William exhales slowly, putting his own hand over Eric’s. “Yes. You’re right.” He then takes the journal from Eric and rapidly flips through it, “Knox showed me the entry about her accepting the deal with the demon, so it would need to be some time after that.” Eric watches over William’s shoulder this time, impressed how fast the other reaper flicks through the pages as if he’s even able to read what’s on them. He supposes, in a way, this is what William’s good at. He lives and breathes paperwork and this is as close to it as it comes in Haven. “Here.” William announces, landing on the page with a piece of sheet music attached to it. “This should be the song we need to play in reverse.”

Eric slowly nods, the music sheet itself looks like gibberish to him. “Right. Ye can read that, aye?”

“Of course I can.”

“Good.” he rips the page from the journal then folds it up, tucking it away in his pocket.

As William’s about to close the journal, he pauses when he reads the words on the page after the one Eric tore out. “Slingby, look at this. It seems Rebecca was conscious enough to know what she was doing wasn’t good.” he points at the words, “may you fix what I destroyed.”

Eric frowns. “Damn. A part of me wishes there was a way to save ‘er.”

“Demon’s have the power to feast on all of us, it just depends on when they do. A reaper suffering from great heartbreak is far more susceptible to their influence than one who is not. Clearly, this demon knew when to strike.”

“Aye…suppose so.” he wonders, once Alan dies, if he’d be susceptible to a demon’s influence, that if whatever deal said demon would propose, he’d accept. Losing his parents may have hurt, may have left a permanent scar on his heart, but losing Alan will break him and he knows this. He’s tried for decades to prepare himself for the inevitable, but each time Alan suffers from the thorns, and Eric thinks it’ll be for the final time, he already feels himself breaking down.

“Slingby?”

Eric just shakes his head and flashes William a smile, “sorry lad. C’mon. Let’s go.”

He’s already at the door, pushing away a heavy dresser when William asks, “do you even know where to go?”

Eric pauses because no. He doesn't. “Right. Yeah. Good point.” he looks at William. “Where do we go Spears?”

William clearly had an answer on his tongue but the more he thinks of it, the less he’s actually sure. “I was going to say the town hall, but if it’s as elusive as Rebecca makes it seem, we may need to find her first and pretend we’re willingly handing ourselves over in order to access it again.”

“Why’s this place so ‘elusive’?”

“As Rebecca believes, the town hall is the only place unaffected by Ronan’s curse. Originally, we planned to use Knox as bait to get us inside but clearly, he’s no longer an option.”

“Right.” he drums his fingers on the dresser. “Y’know, never liked cultists. They’re a pain in the arse to deal with when they’re humans but dealing with a cultist that’s also a reaper is worse and I don’t like it.”

“You and I both.”

Eric huffs out a quick breath. “Anyway, let me get this outta our way and we can go.”

“Do you need help?”

Eric waves his hand, “I got it lad. Don’t need any unnecessary stress on tha’ back of yers.”

Thus William watches as Eric shoves aside the dresser then removes the couple of chairs from the door before opening it only to nearly run head first into Callum who looked like he was about to try the door himself. “Fuck!” Eric cusses, “what the hell?! What are ye doin’ here?! I thought we agreed you’d stay behind with Alan?”

Callum smoothes back his hair, clearly slightly rattled himself with Eric nearly walking right into him, but he quickly calms himself down, forcing his eyes to remain on the man he’s talking with and instead of his son he sees over Eric’s shoulder, “that was the arrangement, yes, but the same child that opened the portal for you, told me where to find Kimiko and I could not waste the chance to retrieve her.”

“I suppose that explains why Ronan said she was already gone.” William comments. “And this child. I can only assume it was Oliver?”

“I guess so.” Eric answers, “wee lad’s got the ability to open a portal whenever ‘e wants.”

“Hm. Considering we’ve learned he’s a puppet for a demon, I can only imagine what that’ll mean for us.” he looks at his father, “then I take it mother is safe?”

“She’s back in our realm of Haven, so I do hope. I promised her I would find you and bring you home.” Callum replies.

William plants his feet firmly on the ground. “And I will not go home until–”

“I do not care for your reasoning.” Callum interrupts. “Instead, I will help you.”

William’s caught off guard by that. “You’ll…what?”

“I will help.” Callum repeats. “For I…for I…” he inhales and strands straighter, eyes locked only on his son, “your mother was right. I came to London already expecting you to be dead. I did not give you the credit you deserved and for that, I sincerely apologise.” he grips his scythe harder to prevent his hand from trembling, “I…I also apologise for how I’ve been as your father in general. You tried time and time again to prove yourself to us and white I can blame Haven’s influence over me, it did not dictate my actions completely. I should have tried to be a better father instead of treating you like some burden and for that, I truly am sorry, William.” He hopes for some reaction but William’s face remains impassive, “I understand that the apology has come too late, that I cannot change the past, but I know that is something you needed to hear.”

William adjusts his glasses, saying nothing for a very long moment. “Are you expecting me to forgive you then? To give you a pass because you’re not sure if we’ll make it out of his place alive? That one apology is going to wipe away everything you’ve put me through over the years? Mother tried as well, apologising to me while she was here and I can’t say I’ve forgiven her either.” he gestures around them, “you had ample time to make amends with me before Haven and yet, neither of you did.” he walks past Callum, purposely knocking shoulders with him, “you may help but don’t think that means I’ve forgiven you.”

Callum watches William walk on ahead and Eric just shrugs, offering Callum a half-way forced sympathetic smile. “Lad has a point.” He follows William, securing his scythe in his hand, “oi, Will.” Eric grabs his arm, “even if yer pissed at him, can’t say havin’ an extra hand isn’t useful.”

“It is, yes, but again, that does not mean I’ll forgive him any time soon.” he looks down the street, “now if I recall correctly, the town hall should be somewhere down that way. It’s close to the school.”

“Right, hear me out. Before we do tha’, I need to know where this ritual’s takin’ place first. I need to know where to be when yer playin’ the song.”

“From what Knox and I have gathered, it takes place at the lake.”

Eric clicks his tongue. “Lake. Right.”

William raises an eyebrow, “can you swim?”

“Oh aye, I can, just don’t like water fer no other reason then I hate gettin’ wet when I don’t need to.”

“Well, I suppose on a technical stand point, I can understand.” he looks back at his father who’s finally joined them, wanting to give William some space for a moment, “are you certain you’re willing to help?”

“I am and I do not appreciate my offer being questioned.” Callum remarks with an eye twitch.

“Then am I allowed to turn my back to you without worrying I’ll be struck again?”

Eric glances between the two, slotting himself between them, “right, let’s go. There’s a truce right now, aye? We’ve got more important things to worry about.”

William looks at Eric then back to his father, “you’re right. Follow me then.”

Both follow William without question, running in the direction of the lake. Eric wants to question if William should even be running with his back the way it is, or the way Haven makes it think it is, but those painkillers were special as Alan said, so they probably helped a great deal more than he thinks they do.

Upon reaching the lake, the water remains as eerily still as the last time William was here. “You sure this is water?” Eric asks, kneeling at the shore’s edge to investigate. He dips his fingers in and it feels more like tar than water but as he pulls his fingers out, the liquid drips from his fingers exactly how water would.

“It is.” William answers, a twinge of fear in his voice.

Eric looks back at him, noticing how William eyes the water like he’s terrified something will crawl out of it. “Will?”

William keeps a respectable distance where he’s safe on the grassy area, tightening his hold around the strap of the medical bag on his shoulder, “the last time Knox and I were here, there bodies at the bottom of the lake, skeletons that grabbed me when I dived down to collect a tin box.”

“You jumped into the lake?!” Callum snatches the front of William’s shirt, “what sort of idicotic decision was that?! You could have gotten yourself killed!”

William shoves his father away, glaring at him, “it was a choice that felt right at the time. Remember, father, Knox and I had no idea what Haven was and we just wanted a way home and we were willing to do anything to achieve that.”

Eric once again, slots himself between the two, looking angrier than he did last time. “Lads, look. If we’re gonna all work t’gether, you two need to get along, even just fer right now because fighting is gonna get us killed.” Eric tells them both. “Callum, yer a prick, that’s a fact and Spears–the young one–yer a stubborn bastard. Actually, no yer both stubborn and yet both kinda pricks…whatever, point still stands. Both these problems can be dealt with later. Might I remind ye both that’ we’re losin’ time even just talkin’ about this? We need a proper plan and we need to make it fast.”

William opens his mouth to argue back but Eric does have some points, so he shuts his mouth and adjusts his glasses. “Fine.”

Callum adjusts his own glasses. “Yes. Fine.”

“Good.” Eric swaps his full attention to Callum, “now how do these rituals usually go?”

Callum sighs and walks up to the dock, putting his hand on the rotting wooden railing. “As I recall it, the school bell would ring exactly at eight and time would stop the moment the last chime rang. And then, we would all gather dressed in our ritual attire–those cloaks–and we’d all make our way here, to the lake where Rebecca would already be standing at the end of the dock. We would all begin chanting along to the song the pipe organ played while Rebecca spoke her incantation. While that was happening, one of her ever loyal ‘guards’ would bring the unconscious body of the sacrifice toward her, offering her the boy once she finished speaking. She would then take the boy and say some bollocks about giving the purest we had to keep our town fertile before lowering the boy into the water.” Callum’s eyes turned toward the lake, the image clear in his head, “and the waters themselves would take the boy as if the very lake was alive. The water would ripple for a split second and all light would vanish, much like it has now, before the brightest light we’d ever seen would rise from the lake and burst into a million little orbs. They’d dance in the sky for a moment before shooting up into the clouds followed by a burst of lighting shooting down into the lake before time started again.”

Eric just stares at the still water, “those kids were still alive when they were sent to drown? Couldn't have given ‘em the easy way out and killed ‘em first?”

“I did not conduct the ceremony, Slingby. I was only a part of it.” he closes his eyes, “and that’s been a regret I’ve carried to this day.”

“Regrets for them but not for I.” Eric hears William mutter behind him.

He chooses not to chastise William and instead, shakes his head, “then let’s get the fuck outta here before–”

Then they hear it.

The chanting.

Immediately, they stand at the ready, scythes gripped tight, stance ready for a fight. “Don’t tell me they’re preparing fer the ritual already.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised.” WIlliam comments, eyes darting left and right, "especially if they’re aware we’re not going to allow this ritual to be completed so easily.”

And yet, as they wait, the voices don’t appear to be coming closer. They stay in the distance, like a looming threat of the dangers to come. “This will not bode well.” Callum states, “we must leave this area.”

“For once, I agree with you father.” William replies, “we’ve seen what we need to and we can discuss–”

The chanting stops.

“Hey.”

William tenses then sighs, turning around to face Oliver, “will there ever be a time that you appear where we can see you?”

Callum and Eric turn as well, both putting together that yes, the boy that gave them their way into Haven was indeed, Oliver. “Why’re you here? Givin’ us a way out?”

“L-Like I said…I wanna help.”

“And how exactly do you plan to do that?” Callum questions.

“I–”

“I vow we listen to nothing that this child tells us.” William snaps, readying his scythe, “he’s a ploy by that demon and will only hurt us by trusting him.”

William strikes, Oliver flinches but Eric interjects the blow with his own scythe. “The hell Spears?!”

William glares at Eric now, pointing at the child, “he’s a puppet for the demon Slingby! He needs to be eradicated!”

“Don’t!” Oliver cries, running to cling to Eric’s leg, “please! I-I’m sorry!”

Eric puts his hand on Oliver’s head, clearly willing to defend the child yet Callum sees the same problem William does. “Don’t be a fool Slingby. The demon of this town preys on the instinct of ours with that facade of a boy. He will sooner turn against us then be some innocent thing we can protect and save.”

Eric glances down at Oliver, his heart dropping in his stomach as tears stream down the boy’s face where he’s hidden it against Eric’s side. “Maybe, but I’ll take that risk.” he gently pushes Olvier away as he kneels down, smiling at the boy, “yer safe with me. Promise.”

Oliver sniffles, wiping at his eyes. “T-Thank you…”

“Aye, ‘course lad.” he ruffles Oliver’s hair, “now, how’re you gonna help us?”

Oliver sniffles again, tugging nervously at the sleeve of his blazer, “I-I know where brother Ronald is…”

“You do?” William immediately questions. “Where?”

“Town hall. Where mummy keeps all the precious things.”

Eric stands up, offering his hand to the boy. “Then let’s go.” William still clearly has his reservations about following Oliver but the prospect of finding Ronald gives him some hope, so he keeps quiet, following in step between Eric and Oliver, Callum walking next to him.

The air grows thicker and colder as they move away from the lake. Oliver clings tightly to Eric’s hand, eyes rapidly darting around. Eric squeezes his hand as reassurance, wanting to make sure Oliver felt safe, felt like he could trust them as they trusted him. Perhaps William had a point about Oliver being a spy for the demon, but if that were the case, why would Oliver be leading them toward Ronald?

Eventually, through the fog that’s getting thicker and thicker as the clouds grow darker and darker, the town hall emerges. It looks far more imposing than it had before; larger and more corrupted then William remembers it. “Up there.” Oliver says, pointing at the single window at the steeple. “He’s there.”

“Of course he is.” William comments. “Perhpas I’m the only one that does not like the feeling they’re receiving from this place and I suggest we do not enter.”

“Spears, Ron’s up there.” Eric says, looking at him, “we can’t just leave.”

“And are you certain that he is? Again, Eric, that child is the demon’s puppet. Who’s to say he’s really telling the truth and not just leading us to our death?”

“Look, ye can walk away, but I’m gonna believe Oliver’s tellin’ the truth that Ron is in there and I’m gettin’ my mate back. Yer boyfriend by the way.”

Callum snaps his head toward William. “What?” William doesn’t grace his father with an answer. He just reaffirms his grip on his scythe and the medical bag then gestures for Eric to continue forward. Eric nods and leads them up the stairs and into the town hall.

After stepping inside, they find themselves in a building that’s far from what it used to look like to William. The air was stale and thick with the scent of rot, dust, and mildew. Cobwebs, thick with age, draped from the vaulted ceilings like tattered funeral shrouds. The once-polished wood floors were warped and bent, and a layer of filth covered every surface. “It’s changed.” William comments, taking a few steps forward, “as if the curse has finally taken this place as well.”

“Lovely.” Eric mutters then looks down to Oliver, “how do we get up?”

“There’s a ladder…” Oliver answers, holding tighter to Eric’s hand, “but one one at a time. It’s really old…”

“I’ll go then.” Eric says then looks to William, “you’ll need to find the pipe organ."

“I already know where to go.”

“Then here.” Eric takes the sheet music from his pocket and passes it to William, “it’ll do ye more good then I.” William nods, taking the sheet and putting it in his own pocket.

“I’ll stay with him then.” Callum announces.

“Right. We’ll meet up and Ron will be back with us.” he pauses. “Hopefully.” Eric allows Oliver to lead him where the ladder is and as they wander through the dilapidated building, an eerie feeling creeps up the back of Eric’s neck. It’s the part of him that tells him he should be wary of Oliver’s intentions and maybe yes, a part of him, but if he’s able to get Ronald back, he’ll take the gamble.

When he is shown the ladder, he immediately has no faith it’ll even hold Oliver’s weight, let alone his. “Well shit.” he glances down at the boy, “yer sure there’s no other way up?”

“Uh huh.”

Eric sighs then grabs the first rung. He tests it by pulling on it and it doesn’t give him much confidence when even just a light tug removes the rung completely. He stares down at the rung in his hand before dropping it to the floor and trying the next one up. It’s a little more sturdy at least. “Right, you stay here. I’ll be back soon.”

Oliver nods. “Okay.”

Eric balances his weight well enough to climb the ladder with one hand, testing each rung before he steps onto it and despite the splintering sounds he hears a few times, he’s able to make it up the ladder without much incident. Hoisting himself up the final rung, and once he’s back on both feet, he sees a door at the end of a long corridor. Gathering himself, he tightens his hold on his scythe as he approaches the door, the floor creaking under each step. Once he reaches the end of the corridor, he encloses his hand around the doorknob. Counting backwards from five, he throws open the door.

He freezes on the spot.

In front of him is a body, is Ronald even, but not the real one and he only knows it’s Ronald’s doppelgänger from the eyes, recalling what Alan said about Kimiko’s: “They were like a blank canvas. Nothing was on them.” The body lay there wide eyed with an obvious gash in his throat with a dagger stabbed into the chest, a note along with it, ‘Wrong one’.

The door behind him slams shut with a boom and the lock clicks. Eric spins around, automatically trying to open the door but of course, it’s locked and he sees no way to get it unlocked but even before he can bang on the door or call for help, he smells it. The acrid, putrid scent of a demon.

He turns around, scythe at the ready and he comes face to face with two demons who stand there with sadistic grins on their faces. So he prepares himself for a fight, one he knew he was at a disadvantage on.

The demons move with inhuman speeds, their bodies twisting and shifting as they close in. Eric parries the first attack from the taller demon, the clash of his scythe against the demon’s shadowy claw echoing in the small room. He dodges another strike, spinning on his heel to deliver a swift, powerful blow to the side of the shorter. The creature snarls as Eric’s scythe slices through its flesh. Managing to wound one, the taller one is relentless to make up for it. It feints left then right, its movements lighting fast and Eric barely has time to react as it catches his scythe with its free hand, ripping it from his grip.

Thrown off-balance and unarmed, Eric knows he’s at an even worse disadvantage now and that’s swiftly proven as the shorter demon returns with a newfound fury, and together they overwhelm him. One demon strikes at his side while the other lands a blow so powerful to his chest, he’s propelled through the only window in the room. The glass shatters as Eric’s tossed into the street below, landing with a hard thud and crack against the pavement. The world spins around him, pain lacing up his arm. “rach-air-muin,” he curses, meekly pushing himself up. He watches as the demons land in front of him, teasing him by purposefully dangling his scythe just out of his reach before tossing it aside. He grits his teeth then, refusing to give up, to allow the demons the satisfaction of killing him, so with what strength he has left, he pushes himself up to his feet, swaying slightly as he wipes blood from his lower lip with the back of his hand. “Alright ye boggin’ thin’s. Yer gonna ‘ave to do better than tha’.”

The two demons lunge at him and Eric, bleeding from his damaged arm, dodges the first lunge with a clumsy side step but it still leaves the creature open long enough that he’s able to land a punch then barely spins to avoid the other demon, landing a solid kick to that one, actually staggering the beast for a moment. It’d been a long while since he used just his fists, but he’s pleased with himself to know he still has it.

He uses every single trick he knows, feigning, dodging, weaving–skills he taught Alan with, skills that won him quite a few school yard brawls. He upper cuts one of the demons then spins to knee the other in its chest. They don’t have the same mass as a human but their form is similar enough and he uses that to his advantage, finding gaps in their defences and aiming accordingly. He’s holding his own, but with the continued loss of blood, he’s beginning to run on fumes; each passing second he gets weaker and weaker and the demons know this.

“Slingby!”

Eric barely turns to the voice that called out for him and all he sees is his scythe being thrown in his direction. It’s reflex to catch it perfectly by the handle to use the saw-blade in the knick of time to guard against a claw that would have slashed him to ribbons. He kicks back the demon, throwing himself back at the same time and skidding to a stop next to Callum. “Thanks mate.” he comments, wiping sweat from his brow.

“William and I heard the crash from above.” Callum tells him, eyes locked on the two demons who regroup in front of them, clearly ready for round two. “Certainly did not expect this when I came to see what happened.”

“Where’s Will then?”

“Putting the pieces together of the organ.”

Eric rolls his head, cracking his neck from side to side. “Good.”

“Now, let’s put these creatures down.” Callum attacks first, his movements fluid in a way Eric can’t match. He parries and strikes with perfect precision, reminding Eric of how he saw Kimiko fight and how he’d seen William train the few times that he had. Callum’s attacks leave the demons on the defensive this time and once Eric’s caught his breath, he rejoins the frey. The two work together in a flurry of blows, Eric keeping up the aggressive style while Callum continues with his precise, measured movements; they’re synchronised, protecting the other’s blind spots, a far cry from the brawl they had in the rain on the front garden.

Then in an instant, things change. The demon’s freeze mid attack, as if something has called to them and in an instant, their forms become nothing but wispy black smoke and they dart away, shooting through the front doors of the town hall leaving Eric and Callum standing there, panting, in otherwise, utter silence. “What was tha’?” Eric asks, pressing his hand against the wound on his arm. “Why’d they stop?”

Callum shakes his head, just as bewildered as Eric. “I don’t know but surely, it can’t be good.”

Then it strikes as to where the demons fled, “shit, Will!” Eric calls out, sprinting toward the town hall, Callum quickly following after him. He runs up the steps and straight through the doors, “Spears!” he shouts only to come to a complete stop. 

Inside, William’s suspended in the air by a large, clawed hand around his throat, his scythe laying useless on the floor below him. His feet dangle inches above the ground, the demon holding him grinning ear to ear as Rebecca stands between the two demons, hands folded in front of her, her head bowed. “There is no reason to shout.” she speaks, lifting her head, “we are all in hearing range.”

Eric growls, taking a step forward. “Let ‘im go.”

Rebecca stands straighter, frowning at him. “That is not something I can do, Eric. I am to inflict punishment on those that break Haven’s rules and I promised our Star that I would give him both you and William as well as my dear Ronald.” a small smile spreads on her lips, “as my Star would have it, I now just need you.” As she speaks, the demon tightens its grip on William’s throat, William’s hands scrabbling weakly at the iron grasp around his neck. “I am sorry, Eric, but you will not be returning to that precious, dying, husband of yours. A fate you have given him by returning home.”

Eric’s lip lifts as he outright snarls at her. “You bitch.”

“Slingby, wait!” Callum shouts but Eric doesn’t hear him. He doesn’t hear anything but his own rage.

Rebecca doesn’t even flinch as Eric swings his scythe at her. She simply raises her hand and a wall of pure shadow erupts from the ground, blocking the strike. His scythe clashes against it, sending a shower of dark sparks into the air but the wall remains. “Eric!” Callum calls again, “she’s using your anger against you, you should know this!”

“Will’s dyin’ and she told me I wouldn’t see Alan again! I don’t care what she’s doin’!” Eric shouts, hacking at the wall with frantic fury.

Callum, however, is not so rash. He lowers his scythe slightly, eyes scanning the space. He’s not looking at Rebecca, or the demons on either side. Instead, he solely focuses on William, who continues to weakly struggle. He’s kicking out, clawing at the hand and yet for a split moment, he swears he sees a passive expression cross William’s face before the pained one returns. Callum shakes his head, remembering what he told Eric. He must stay resolute in what he knows. He cannot allow Haven to alter what he sees or what he knows is happening right in this very moment. What he does see, however, is how close William is to Rebecca, “William!” he shouts, preparing himself for another fight, “look!” and he gestures with his head toward her.

William’s eyes flick to the woman and he seems to understand what his father wants. From his angle, he’s not sure if he can make the distance with his strength fleeting as it is, but he tries. He lifts his legs as high as he can then kicks them out, aiming perfectly and having enough power to knock Rebecca off her feet, the wall drops and Eric rushes over to land the finishing blow–

The demons actively block him, their claws intercepting the blade and knocking him away from their charge, Rebecca incasing herself in the same black smoke she used before, guarding herself while her demon guards fight for her. Eric skids to a stop, wincing at the bruise forming on his chest but he refuses to back down. “Alright.” Eric adjusts his stance, “you wanna fight? Then let’s fight.”

With a new found resolve, fulled by Rebecca’s earlier taunt, Eric takes the brunt of their attacks while Callum quickly sneaks around to check on his son who’s regained enough energy to hold himself up on his arms where he’d collapsed after the demon dropped him, “are you alright?” he asks, keeping his eyes trained on the battle in front of them.

William coughs once, wincing as he rubs at his throat, “I will be.” he replies, reaching for his scythe. “But Slingby cannot fight alone for long.”

One of the demons lets out a deafening shriek, the sound rattling the very foundation of the town hall. It lunges forward, its shadowy form moving with sickening speed. The air crackles with powerful energy as it attacks, its massive form obscuring the dim light. Eric meets its charge head-on, scythe and claws clashing.

William, now back on his feet and having his breathing under control, joins the fray along with Callum. He fights just like his father, precision his biggest strength, darting in and out of the demon’s reach, aiming for whatever spot either demon’s left open. His clippers cut deep into skin, each strike met with a furious roar. The demon’s focus then shifts completely to William, their talons swiping at him, forcing him to dodge and retreat.

Callum sees an opening and flanks them, aiming his scythe at an exposed shoulder. His blade sinks deep and the demon lets out a horrifying shriek. It stumbles, giving Eric the chance to slash at its side.

It’s at that moment, the battle swings in their favour for one brief, brilliant, moment. William sees the opportunity to rid them of one of the demons, but as he aims his scythe to make the finishing blow, the other demon swiftly blocks the blow with its claw, sending a jolt up William's arms and he stumbles back, thrown off balance. The other demon tends to their charge, touching Rebecca’s guarded form. The same smokey wisps from her cocoon seep into the demon, healing its wounds. The light of its eyes glow even brighter than before and its hulky, grotesque form slams its feet into the ground, towering over the three reapers.

Eric and Callum take a defensive stance next to William. “Bloody hell.” Eric mutters, breathing hard, “lads, any ideas?”

William breathes deeply, eyeing the demons that wait for their next move. “It seems they’re attached to each other in a sense.” he states, “while one healed its wounds, the other was healed as well meaning if we focus solely on one creature, we might be able to take the both of them out without expending too much energy.”

Callum reaffirms his grip on his scythe. “I suppose anything is worth a shot at this point.” Callum agrees, shaking out his other hand, “then who shall we target?”

The demons make that choice for them as the larger one attacks quickly, its sole focus William again. William himself reacts just as quickly, his own scythe a blur of motion as he parries the attacks though his movements are more desperate than they are precise this time. Eric doesn’t have much time to help as the smaller demon charges at him, its brutish strength a contrast to its size. Eric clashes with the demon and Callum has faith Eric can hold his own for a little at least, so he chooses to help William fend off the demon that’s just a bit too strong for him on his own.

The battle is a maelstrom of motion and sound; blades clash, demons cry out but there’s still no clear victor in his battle yet. Not until Callum makes one crucial mistake. William parries and doges, his body moving on instinct, his scythe a familiar extension of his arm. He believes they have the chance to win this, especially with Callum at his side. From the corner of his eye, he sees Eric fighting the hardest he’s ever seen Eric fight; the sweat glistens off him in whatever light there is, his face locked in determination, his teeth grit–they have a chance to win this if they keep it up. 

Until Callum makes that mistake.

The demon he and William are fighting is lithe, quicker than Callum is. Despite the years of experience under his belt, despite the parries and doges, Kimiko was right. He did not have much faith in his physical capabilities. The next time a claw came at him, Callum misjudged his step, his shoe catching on an uplifted end of the floorboard; the claw slashed across his face.

Then, a spray of blood as a pair of glasses are thrown to the floor.

Callum stumbles back, his hand flying to his face. A low, agonising groan tears from his throat as he collapses to his knees.

William, caught off garud by what he just witnessed, doesn’t have the time to dodge the demon’s next attack and the creature's fist connects with his jaw, the blow sending him flying, his head slamming against the wooden floor. His scythe slips from his grasp, clattering and landing right next to his hand. He lies there, dazed, staring as Eric now does his best to fend off two demons again as his father has dropped to one hand on the floor, the other still covering his face as blood streams through his fingers. It was a losing battle…

No.

That was how Haven was going to portray it as.

He wouldn’t allow it.

He worked too hard to be where he was to let Haven rip everything away from him.

In that moment, something in William snaps. His fingers curl around the metal pole of his scythe and clambers to his feet, breathing harshly through his nostrils. No. This was not how it was going to end.

As Eric’s disarmed again, this time fully believing he’s about to face his death, William is as quick as a flash of lightning. He knocks Eric out of the way before unleashing all his built up rage. The demons try to fend him off, using Rebecca’s cocoon to heal as much as they can, but William is persistent. His scythe is even more precise, his movements leaving no room for mistakes. Each blow is heavier and faster than the last. He parries the taller demon’s attack with a brutal, sickening crunch of bone then spins, bringing his scythe up to deflect the shorter demon’s claws. In the end, it’s the demons that are fighting for whatever life they have.

When William shoves his scythe through the shorter demon, the taller one knows it’s the end. The dying demon screams out in agony as its body calcifies before falling completely to ash. The taller demon hunches its shoulders as it slinks away, disappearing into the shadows. William’s face remains impartial as he turns to the cocoon and whatever power Rebecca had, seems to have been revoked as the smokey shield evaporates into the air, leaving behind a terrified, frail, broken woman who lost the favour of her Star. “Please.” she begs, voice breaking as she holds up her hands in mercy. “I’m sorry for what I've done.” she whispers, "please don’t.” he stops in front of her, his face a mask of cold, unrelenting fury. He says nothing. He simply brings his scythe down with the quiet finality of execution.

The scythe slides straight through her heart and with a final, shuddering gasp, Rebecca crumples to the floor. There is no grand send off, no fantastical moment of forgiveness. William instead, peers down at her lifeless corpse with contempt, removing his scythe from her chest. Then, he turns to Callum and Eric, his voice monotone despite the rage in his eyes. “It is done and now, all we have left is that sodding demon.”

********************

He’s gotten used to his mother’s arms for the short time that he’s been in this strange, yet comforting new space. Rebecca holds him tenderly, her fingers in his hair as she hums that comforting tune. His eyes are closed and he soaks up every moment of it, basking in the affections he never thought he was worthy of. He leans into her touch, head nestled against her chest, listening to the slow, steady rhythm of her heart. He can’t remember the last time he felt this safe. The aches of his old life, the loneliness and the bitter cold of his childhood, begin to melt away under her warmth.

A tear slips from his closed eyes, but it’s not one of sorrow. It’s for the boy who never had this, for the young man who believed he wasn’t enough. He has many other questions he wants to ask her, but they all die on his tongue, afraid to ruin the peace that surrounds them. All that matters is this moment, this embrace, this connection.

He shifts, wanting to mesmerise her face, to burn the image of her gentle smile into his mind forever but as he opens his eyes, a strange, translucent shimmer catches his attention. It’s around her hands; a faint, almost invisible glow that begins slowly trailing up her arms. He reaches out to touch it, only, his fingers pass through a part of her arm. He recoils, a knot of panic tightening in his stomach. “Mum?” he whispers, his voice shaking.

She smiles, but it’s different now, softer and her form is changing, fading, like a dream slipping away. “It’s alright, my dear.” she says, her voice echoing as if from a distance, “I’ve waited so long to see you again and now, my love, my soul is content.”

“No!” he cries clinging to her. “Don’t go! Not yet! Please!” He wraps his arms around her, trying to pull her closer but it’s like embracing smoke. “Just a little more time, please.” he sniffles, more tears streaming down his cheeks, “mum, please! I need more time!” yet his pleas hang in the silence. He holds onto the fading warmth, onto the last of her presence, until there’s nothing left but the memory of her touch. He was now alone once again.

Chapter Text

Quiet settles over them, as not even the wind disturbs the moment. Callum remains on his knees, covering his bleeding eye while Eric stares at Rebecca’s body. He’s seen the dead multiple times, of course he has, but witnessing her demise by someone he always deemed level headed, changes how he views the corpse at William’s feet. The man himself lacks any discernible emotions, his eyes empty voids as they train on the clippers of his scythe, watching the blood dribble down them. “William?” he asks, voice barely above a whisper, “are you…are you alrigh’?”

“I am fine, Slingby.” William replies, slashing his scythe to the side, the blood splattering against the floor. “She needed to be removed. Not only that, we have removed one more demon from this world. We accomplished all we needed here and I suggest we leave for the lake where we’ll find the true stain on this town.”

Eric glances at Callum, the older reaper breathing slow and deep through the lasting pain. “Will, we need to take a moment to recover. Look at yer da’, me, even yerself.” he gestures to William’s perfectly straight posture, “how the hell are you so…fine?”

“A reaper does not require respite.” William states, finally turning to look at the other two. There’s a spark in his eyes, a fire that yearns for revenge, “we will rest and recover when what we need to do is complete.”

“William,” Callum breathes out, forcing himself up to his feet, wincing as the scar across his face burns, “rest. You will not have the energy to fight that demon if you don’t.”

“As opposed to you, who is already a liability?" he scoffs, “I am far more capable than either of you as of now and if I am wrong, then prove it to me.”

“Might I remind you of your injury? Your back is likely to give out the more you push yourself.” he grunts, lowering his hand to hopefully appeal to William as his son, “I promised your mother I would bring you back alive and I intend on doing so.”

William’s face continues to be impassive, “then perhaps you shouldn’t have made such promises.”

Eric wants to grab William as he passes but decides against it, allowing the other reaper to leave through the open doors. Perhaps he needed that moment alone to realise how brash he was being, something he often chastised younger reapers for. As of right now, tending to his own and Callum’s injuries was more important. “Wait here.” he tells Callum before looking for the medical bag, thankful William left it behind. He picks it up, carrying it back to Callum where the older reaper has moved to sit on one of the old pews, still nursing his eye with his hand. “How’s it feelin’?” Eric asks, kneeling down and opening up the bag.

Callum lowers his head, exhaling slowly, “worry not for me Slingby. Tend to yourself first.”

“And let ye lose an eye for good?”

“I believe it’s a worthy punishment for the part I played in Haven. Hells Eric, just leave me here. Go after William and leave me to endure the pain I’ve caused so many others.”

Eric glances at Callum as he pulls out the rest of the bandages. Callum has a point. By rights, for what he did to Eric, leaving Callum here to fend for himself would be the ultimate punishment. Perhaps he’d even be slaughtered by Haven like his own parents were; their blood sprayed across every surface, their bodies completely free of any wounds save the blood that stained their nostrils and lips. Yes, maybe it was a fitting punishment until Eric realises just what he’s thinking.

Immediately, he forms a fist, digging his nails into his palm because Haven is trying to play with him. Haven wants their numbers weakened and he won’t allow that. “Aye, maybe it is what ye deserve,” Eric begins, unrolling the bandages, “but Spears still deserves a father and yer wife still wants her husband back.” he pushes Callum’s hand away from his face, beginning to wrap the bandages around Callum’s head and over his eye, “loosin’ an eye is already punishment enough fer wha’ ye did. For makin’ me ma’ and da’ sign the contract for Haven in the first place.”

Callum stills his hand. “What?”

“Ye had ‘em sign the contract.”

“No, I did not. Eric, I told you and Alan that Rebecca had your mother and father sign the contract. I was the one that told them about the clause Rebecca kept from them.”

Eric just stares for a moment before that conversation in Alan’s hospital room starts coming back to him. Callum’s right. “Shit…”

Callum frowns at him, “I told you Haven will try to change your way of thinking.”

“I…I thought…” he grits his teeth, working to finish the bandage job around Callum’s head, “if Haven changed that, what else did I fall for?” he asks himself before shaking his head, “whatever. Tha’ doesn’t matter right now.”

Once Eric finishes wrapping the bandages, Callum bows his head in thanks, “I appreciate it, thank you, Eric.”

Eric clamps his hand on Callum’s shoulder, “yer welcome mate.” he then focuses on his own injuries, removing his blazer and shirt to look at the strip of skin scraped off his arm. It was no longer bleeding like it was but the wound itself is sore and even the slighted touch makes him wince.

“It appears you’ve already been injured here.” Callum states when he sees the bandages around Eric’s chest.

Eric nods, “aye. I used meself as a shield for Ron and Will.”

Callum observes Eric as he uses what little was left of the bandages to wrap his arm. He’d met Eric when he was a child and for the longest time, that was the only memory he had of the other reaper. But now, to see him as an adult with such a strong sense of self, almost feels like Ivor and Ava never really died. “That’s very brave of you.”

“I’d rather it have me then them.” Eric replies, wincing as he pulls the bandages tight, “they’ve been through enough here. Couldn’t stand the idea of anythin’ else happenin’ to ‘em.”

Callum can’t help but smile at that. “You’re a good man, Eric and I’m sure, if your parents could see you, they’d be just as proud of you.”

Eric chuckles, a sound both light and heavy all at once. “Thanks mate, but, I’ve gotten past the idea of what me parents would think of me, good ‘r bad.”

“Have you?”

“Aye. All I care about now is what Al thinks of me. All I care about is if I’ll be good enough for him. If I can protect him.” he pauses, looking out into the distance, “nothin’ else really matters if I can’t do that. He’s already dealin’ with his own inner demons with those fuckin’ thorns, so the last thing he needs to worry about, is me.”

“You really love him.”

“Without question.” he finishes up bandaging his arm, then pulls on his dress shirt, “never thought of gettin’ married but when I met Alan, I already knew I’d make the lad my husband. Knew from the very start, I wanted to be with him until ‘e took his last breath.”

“And after?”

“After?” his lips downturn, holding his blazer in his hands, rubbing his thumb over the fabric, “after, I’d stay loyal to him. He owns me heart and he’ll take it to the grave with him.” His eyes switch to the wedding band around his finger and he kisses it, “he said he wanted to be someone’s light one day, so he became mine.” he throws on his blazer then searches through the medical bag again, pulling out William’s medication, “here. Take one. If it works so well for Will, it’ll work for us too.”

Callum fumbles the catch as Eric tosses him the bottle but once he’s holding it in his hand, he finds himself hesitant to take one. They were meant for WIlliam after all, meaning would there be any unwanted side effects? Still, clearly, they were excellent pain killers, so he chooses to bite the bullet and unscrew the cap, shaking out a pill then pops it into his mouth, swallowing it down. “They don’t taste as horrible as I assumed they would.” he says, passing the bottle to Eric.

Eric takes one himself, finding Callum to be right. “Aye. They don’t.” he agrees, capping the bottle and dropping it back into the bag before really looking at Callum. Talking about Alan and their relationships has Eric wondering about Callum’s reaction to William and Ronald. “So, I gotta ask. How do ye really feel about Will and Ron?”

Callum crosses his arms. “Regarding Knox being referred to as my son's boyfriend?”

“Aye.”

Callum takes a moment, choosing his words before finally answering, a furrow in his brow, “I am undecided for I’ve always had a different vision for William’s life, quite obviously. Though, I suppose I cannot say I’m as surprised as I appeared as William made it apparent the first time the other Kimiko and I found him that his feelings for Knox ran deeper than simple boss and subordinate. Then friends, even but I suppose I feel the same way I felt when I learned of his relationship with Humphries. I admit, I was disappointed. I suppose it also goes back to the idea that William was not meant to live beyond ten years because of our poor choices and I wanted the Spears family name to continue on for generations, thus when we fled with William, I intended to set him on the path I laid out for the son we would have had if Kimiko and I never left Haven.”

“How do ye know it woulda been a son if, y’know, ye didn’t leave?”

Callum blinks, “I…supopse that’s true. I’ve never really considered the idea of having a daughter, but I suppose that’s because…because I have a son. I have William.” he closes his eye, bowing his head as he covers his face with his hands, “a son that deserves far more than his mother or I have given him.”

Eric reaches out, hesitates for only a moment, then places his hand on Callum’s back, “Will has every right to be pissed, so do I, but, Haven did influence yer choices like ye said. Ye can’t hold all the blame for what happened.”

Callum looks at Eric, “I can and I will.” He looks upward, watching as the cobwebs and black drapes sway slightly in a breeze that passes by, “Kimiko called me a coward before I forced her to return home and she’s correct. I’ve done nothing to make amends with William or accept that, had I not chosen to go with Rebecca in the first place, had I not convinced Kimiko to go along with this ‘Star’, none of this would have happened. Yes, William would not exist but he would have been saved from the neglect. The pain. I may have tried to apologise to William already but I need to do so again. Properly.”

Eric nods, “sounds like a good start.” he turns his own attention outside, seeing those horribly dark clouds and sheet lighting that periodically lights up the sky, “why the hell do ye call the demon yer ‘Star’ to begin with?”

“Rebecca told me it was the term the demon wanted to use. ‘For I will be the star, brightest in the sky and watching each and everyone one of you, night or day’ is specifically what the creature said to her.”

“Prick.” Eric grunts, closing up the bag. “Self-absorbed prick.”

“Like every demon.”

Eric chuckles at that. “Aye. Like every demon.” he picks back up his scythe, turning his eyes back to the town hall’s entrance. The doors are now swaying in the wind that’s picking up again. “I gotta ask. Do ye think somethin’s wrong with Will? Or is it just me who thinks he’as actin’ odd?”

Callum forces himself up to his feet, rolling his shoulders. “I dislike saying this, but I don’t know what is normal for William. His anger towards me is justified at the very least as I do not expect him to really care what happens to me.”

Eric holds his scythe tighter. “I dunno Spears as well as Alan or, hell, even Ron, but I know this doesn’t feel like him.”

Callum narrows his eyes. “That is William, yes?”

“Aye.” Eric nods, “I saw Spears kill his double. That’s the real Will.”

“And you’re positive?”

“I am.”

Callum turns his attention to the same entryway, “then, perhaps, he’s channeling that anger into his energy.”

Eric doesn’t like that suggestion but with no other reasoning as to why William’s acting the way he is, he chooses to believe it. So, he focuses on more important matters, like the time. He checks his watch: seven forty-two. “What…?”

Callum looks at him. “Is something wrong?”

“Aye. The time. It’s seven forty-two.”

“What?!” Callum stares at him for a second. “Surely time hasn’t passed that fast.”

“That’s not what my watch is sayin’.” he taps it a few times, hoping the hands will rewind, but no. That’s not the case at all. “We had four hours at least.”

Callum cusses under his breath. “Haven is the demon’s playground. It’s not out of the realm of possibility that he’s able to speed up time here.”

“And Will’s fucked off meaning we don’t have anyone that can play the pipe organ.”

“I can.”

Eric slowly looks at him. “You can?”

“Yes.” Callum nods. “Rebecca required me to play it on occasion which in hindsight, I suppose was a good thing. Besides that, with my injury,” he gestures to his eye, “I doubt I’ll be of much use otherwise.”

Eric sighs in relief. “Right, so we’re not completely outta luck.”

“Not quite.” Callum states, taking a step forward, “follow me. William showed me where the instrument is at least. Someone sealed it up behind a wall.”

Eric follows Callum through the makeshift dining room and through a hole in the back of the fireplace to the secret room where the grand pipe organ stands. It’s intimidating in the dim light but at the very least, William was able to slot the missing keys back into their rightful places before he was interrupted. “It may take a moment as I’ve not touched this in quite some time, but I believe I can recall what I need to do.”

“Okay. Good. Now we just…damn it.” he groans, “Spears still has the sheet music.” he rubs the back of his neck, “please tell me ye remember the song ye gotta play.”

Callum looks over the keys, noticing how the blood stains certain ones, each print becoming less and less prominent. Considering he knows he wasn’t the last person to play this pipe organ, he has to wonder what happened to the organist for them to leave behind this blood trail. “As I said, it’s been a long while since I need to and my memory is fuzzy at best, however, If I’m right, playing these in reverse order of the bloody fingerprints should work.”

“Ye think?”

“It’s the only idea we have and if time continues to speed up, we won’t have it for you to find William and make it back here with the sheet music before the ceremony starts. Once it does, you must make sure Ronald does not fall into the demon’s hands.”

Eric nods, putting the medical bag down, “got it. Do ye know when to start playin’ then?”

“I do. I promise you Slingby, you will not have to worry about my part in this.”

Eric almost breathes a sigh of relief but he holds it instead. Now is not the time for relief. Not yet. “Right, you stay here then and try to remember the song you gotta play if ye can. I’ll go look for Will.”

“Alright.”

Once Eric crawls out of the secret room, he takes off running out the main doors, scythe in hand. The lake is his only destination as of now, knowing there was little time before the ritual and hell, who was to say the demon wouldn’t speed up time even more? Callum was right, Haven was the demon’s playground now that he had the sacrifice that he needed and he could do whatever he wanted within what Ronan allowed. That in itself leads Eric to wonder if Ronan was genuine in wanting to help or was he planning on backstabbing them? Then again, it didn’t matter. There was no other choice here. Haven would consume them, like it did its other residence, if they didn’t try something.

As he runs toward the lake, taking one break to recover some energy, he slows to a stop when he finds William again. The other reaper is standing in the school yard, staring at a random patch of dirt in front of the school’s main doors but as he approaches and looks closer, there’s dried specks of blood staining some of the lower wall and cracked pavement. “Will?” he asks cautiously, noting the light from his eyes is gone.

“I don’t recall ever living in Haven,” William tells him, continuing to stare at the dried blood, “but standing here, I do recall what Ronan did to me. I remember that feeling when he sliced open my back.”

Eric wants to rush William, tell him they’re running out of time, but clearly, William needs this moment just like Callum did, so he holds his tongue, standing next to William instead. “Ye do?”

“Yes. I don’t remember much in terms of time or weather, but I remember wanting to practise with a training scythe so I could impress my father and mother when they returned from…wherever they went and Ronan told me he’d help me train.” There’s a brief pause, “I never really met Ronan before that. I’d only ever seen him in passing, seen how favoured he was by Rebecca. I was jealous of that.” he admits. “Jelous that he was loved by his mother. I even remember asking why didn’t my mother love me like that? Why did my father want nothing to do with me?” his hand clenches into a fist, his jaw clenching, “They never gave me an answer. Each time I asked, they ignored me, not that they really spoke to me to begin with.”

Eric can see the pain on William’s face, see that anger return, once more burning in his eyes, “wha’ happened the day Ronan attacked you?”

“Nothing all too exciting. Ronan made me think he was going to help me but all he did was use, what I now know, were claws that ripped up my back. I remember how much it hurt, that I cried for my ‘mummy and daddy’, hoping they would make everything better.”

That, unfortunately, Eric recalls himself doing multiple times after his parents death. Waking from a nightmare or getting himself hurt, calling for parents that would never come back. “Do ye remember seein’ ‘em in hospital?”

“A bit. Mother was more upset then my father was, but even then, I don’t recall any affections from either of them. No words of reassurance or soothing.” he swallows, quickly wiping at his eye, Eric seeing unshed tears glistening in them, “I know I have no right to say this, but, I wish I had parents like yours. Parents that loved you, that cared for you.” there’s an actual crack in his voice as he speaks, "parents that gave a damn if you were hurt…”

Eric isn’t sure how to reply to that. He doesn’t even know if he can in a way that doesn’t sound angry. “I…wish I could remember that part of ‘em too.”

William finally gives Eric his full attention, eyes sympathetic now, “I apologise.” he says softly, “that was rather insensitive of me.”

Eric just flashes him a smile. “It’s alright lad.” he puts his hand on William’s arm, comfortingly rubbing up and down it, “how about after all this, when we get home, you and I go out for a pint? Never known a conversation to be harder after a few drinks.”

William glances at Eric’s hand, then places his uninjured one over it. “I suppose a drink or two wouldn’t hurt.” there’s a pink to his cheeks now, “though I will warn you, I don’t…particularly have much of a tolerance for alcoholic beverages.”

Eric chuckles, trying to put a light hearted end to this rather serious conversation, “can’t wait to see a drunk Spears.”

And it’s rather refreshing that William doesn’t chastise him or refuse to go out with him after that. He only nods in turn, a small smile dawning his lips despite the hardness of his eyes. “I also want to apologise for how I acted earlier.”

Eric waves a dismissive hand. “Don’t worry about it. I get it. Things are stressful right now. I’d act out too if I was in yer position.” he looks at his watch again. “But speakin’ of all that, we have very little time before the ritual actually starts and–”

On cue, the bell begins to ring. William’s head snaps up to the tower where no bell remains, and yet, it rings deliberately, as if it had never fallen at all. “How?!” he demands. “The bell’s gone!” he snaps his eyes back to Eric, “we had time.”

Eric sucks in air through his teeth. “The demon sped it up.”

“What?! And you let me talk?!”

The third toll comes to an end and suddenly, everything stills. The air around them, the wind blowing the leaves, the fog itself, even the lighting that strikes across the sky, has stopped, frozen in time.

The chanting begins.

The voices amalgamate together, reminding William of the whispers he and Ronald heard upon first arriving in Haven. The chant that warns them that the ritual has begun and Ronald was to be the next sacrifice for that damn demon.

Eric takes off first and William’s close behind him. They run straight through the school and out the other side, the lake in the distance getting closer and closer until they see the group of cultists surrounding it. Eric pulls them behind a thick trunk of a tree, allowing them to watch on without being seen, his eyes scanning each faceless member of the crowd, then noticing the picture that’s set up near the lake. It’s the exact same as the portraits in the hotel except this portrait is of a ten year old Ronald. “Fuck me.” Eric cusses, “they’re really gonna go through with it.”

“Seems so.” William comments, his own eyes sweeping over the scene before realising just who he was looking at on the dock. “Slingby, do…do my eyes deceive me. Is that Rebecca?”

Eric turns his attention to the docks and to his horror, William’s right. The woman he thought William killed, is standing there, arms held out and toward the sky. “Yer right. How? She should be fuckin’ dead.”

William stands straighter, “Ronan told us Rose was consumed, didn’t he? What if she was consumed in the sense her consciousness is no longer her own? What if the woman standing there is Rose and not Rebecca?”

Eric scans the woman but it’s hard to tell any real difference from this far away. “That’d make sense. I’m guessin’ Rose is a doppelgänger since yer da’ said Rebecca never had a sister.”

“This must be the only way the demon could get this ritual to work if Rose took Rebecca’s place, meaning our main priority right now is finding Ronald.”

Eric nods, cracking his neck from side to side, “that was my only priority anyway."

“Then you look for him and I’ll create a distraction if need be.” he nudges up his glasses, “I don’t like admitting it, but Haven knows how to get under my skin. You’re not as affected as I am yet, so that will be your greatest strength.”

Eric doesn’t inherently like the idea of William being a distraction but he supposes there’s no better ideas left. The plan they thought they had has gone out the window, so this is the best they can do. “Alright.” Eric agrees, reaffirming his grip on his scythe. “Just don’t get yerself killed, aye? I’m serious about that pint.”

William actually, almost, laughs. “I won’t Slingby. I promise.”

Eric clasps his hand on William’s shoulder. “I’ll hold ye too it.”

They split up again, Eric having no real idea where he’s going, but he knows Ronald has to be close enough to be carried toward Rose. He checks the surrounding area within the limits he can without being seen before expanding his search just slightly outside the wooded area until finally, he finds what he’s looking for. In the arms of the demon that escaped the town hall, is Ronald’s limp and unconscious body. His face is scrunched in pain, his lower lip trembling.

Right away, Eric’s instincts kick in as he leaps in front of the demon, blocking its path with his scythe at the ready. “Sorry, but yer gonna have to drop him.”

The demon stands there, regarding Eric for almost too long before it quite literally, does what Eric requested. It drops Ronald to the hard ground, Eric only getting a second to quietly apologise to the younger reaper before the demon attacks. Eric instantly guards against the creature, snarling at it as the demon bares its incredibly sharp teeth. Despite that, however, without its twin, the demon is easier to fend off. That didn’t mean the demon was weak, however and Eric knows he’s still recovering from their previous fight, but if there’s one thing that’ll keep him going, it’s knowing he’s protecting Ronald. He’d suffer a thousand cuts then let anymore harm come to his best mate.

He swings his scythe, aiming to, literally, disarm the creature, but the demon’s faster, ducking under his saw-blade and landing a heavy blow to Eric’s ribs. A sharp, hot pain lances through him, stealing his breath away. He stumbles back, vision blurring for a moment but he forces himself to stay on his feet. The demon follows up with a series of quick, brutal strikes, all of which Eric parries with the flat of his scythe before an even harder strike to his jaw sends him skidding backwards, his shoes sliding against the dirt. “That all ye got, bastard?” he grunts, spitting blood onto the ground. His eyes quickly land on Ronald, who’s breathing is shallow and that gives him the bit of energy he needs to continue fighting. While it’s still not enough for a long, drawn out battle, it’s enough to end this with him the victor.

He fakes a wide sweeping attack with his scythe, causing the demon to shift its weight to the left to block it. In that split second, Eric rotates his body, using his momentum for a precise, devastating, strike. The blade of his scythe slices through the demon’s body, caching it right at the nap of the demon’s neck, tearing a gash all the way down its abdomen. A guttural sound escapes its lips, black blood oozing from the wound and dissipating the moment it touches the ground before the demon calcifices, just like its twin did but instead of it crumbling on its own, Eric kicks the demon and it shatters, falling to dust on the dirt.

Eric now stands there, his scythe trembling slightly in his hand. He’s breathing hard, his body aching all over, particularly in his ribs that are throbbing. It may not have been a long fight, but he’s completely spent every ounce of energy he has. He drops his scythe and stumbles toward Ronald, collapsing down to his knees next to the unconscious reaper. “Ronnie.” he says, pushing on Ronald’s shoulders, “c’mon lad. Open yer eyes fer me.”

It takes longer than Eric would have liked, but eventually, Ronald’s eyes flutter open. They stare at nothing for a moment, gathering the information of his new surroundings before they land on Eric. It takes but a second for him to recognise the pain the older reaper’s in. “Eric!” immediately he sits up, fully looking Eric over, “what happened?! Are you okay?!”

Eric grunts with a grin, clapping his hands on Ronald’s shoulders, unintentionally putting more of his weight on the younger reaper, “as long as yer alive, I’m great.”

Ronald frowns, pushing back on Eric’s chest to help keep the older reaper sitting upright, “be honest with me.”

Eric winces, trying to hold himself up on his own. “If I told ye how I was really feelin’ Ron, ye’d think I was dyin’.”

“Are you?!”

“No lad! I’m gonna be fine.”

Ronald doesn’t look all that convinced but instead of asking more questions, he throws himself forward, embracing Eric as tightly as he can without hurting him. There’s no other words that need to be spoken. Eric puts his arms around Ronald in turn, squeezing him tight despite the ache in his bones. Just knowing he made it in time is good enough. “Now,” he tells Ronald, pushing him away, “yer gonna have to run.”

Ronald cocks his head. “Huh? Run? Why? Where’s Will?!”

Eric takes a shaky breath in and a shaky breath out. “Lad, listen to me. Will’s fine, but you need to run. The ritual’s starting and it needs you to complete it.”

“But–”

“Ron, I have zero energy to argue with ye right now.” he pushes Ronald in the direction he’s facing, “go. Don’t worry about Will and I. Please Ronnie.”

Ronald clambers to his feet, worry clear in his eyes as he watches how slowly Eric forces himself to his; he sees the wince, the way Eric’s hand presses over his ribs, but there’s also that seriousness in Eric’s eyes, the commanding tone he’d used. He may not like it, but Eric’s right. Haven needs him. So with a short nod, he takes off running, knowing if the ritual’s started, then it must be eight. The gateway home should be open. It needs to be open.

********************

The fresh air almost hurts. It feels like it’d been months that she’d been trapped inside Haven, thus when she was able to take in that sweet, real, fresh air, her body almost crumbled. She looks back just to see if the portal was still there, but no. It’s not. Whatever power was used to open it, has fizzled out, leaving only her in the old, abandoned hotel room. Her heart aches as she stares down at the wedding ring in her palm, hoping her husband returns and that he’ll return with their son. Yes, it may have felt like months to her, but she can only imagine how long it must feel to William, especially with his injuries. Her own feel only slightly better now that she’s out of Haven, her wrists rubbed sore from the cuffs and cuts and bruises she couldn’t prevent from the cultists that found her.

She wanders from the hotel room, knowing she needs to return home, or at least to Alan and Eric's home, where she can find the help she needs but her mind continues to remain on William and Callum. How could she leave when they were still inside? How could she leave them behind?

Her eyes then fall on the wall where the portraits of the children would be. William's face was meant to be part of that wall. How could she ever really look her son in the eyes now that he knows all her and Callum did to him? He refused to forgive right away but at least, he was willing to have a talk when Haven was finally behind them.

As she walks out of the hotel, she starts to make her way down the road toward the exit of Haven and while she expects to, at the very least, find one vehicle from Callum and Eric, she's taken off guard when another car pulls up; one cherry red. “Kimiko!” Alan calls as he gets out of the car before running up to her; his relieved smile quickly fades to one of concern as she just stares at him; more specifically, his arm. “Mrs. Spears? Are you alright?”

She blinks, his concern mirrored on her face as she gently touches the sling, “what on earth happened to you?”

Alan gently pushes her hand away, “never mind that,” he tells her with a fake smile. “What about you? Are you alright? You’re limping a bit. You’ve been gone for so long.”

“She looks like she was tied up.” Grell comments once she’s standing beside Alan, “I have to say, I didn't realise Haven was that type of place.” she almost purrs.

Alan shoots her a look before carefully taking Kimiko’s hand, the same one he’d pushed away, observing her wrist. “It’s rubbed raw.”

“I am fine.” she assures, “my wounds will recover now that I’m free of Haven.” She removes her hand from Alan’s, threading her fingers together and holding her hands against her chest, “what I worry will not recover, are the wounds of those still trapped in that horrible place. William’s wounds are worse than mine and they are likely to be more permanent the longer he stays in there.”

“They’re that bad?”

“I’m afraid so.”

Grell feels the gnawing worry in her own chest, a feeling she’d been trying incredibly hard to keep at bay since William and Ronald went missing, but hearing from Kimiko’s own mouth that William was as injured as she says he is, she can no longer bury it. She just hopes Ronald’s in better condition. “How did you even get out?” she asks, crossing her arms, “as far as Allie’s caught me up, Haven doesn’t open until eight.”

“Callum retrieved me.” she answers, looking up at the hotel room window, “it was a unique circumstance and even I am unsure how he was able to do it.” she swallows, “he promised me he would not return without William.”

“Then, why doesn’t Grell take you home and I’ll wait for them to return?” Alan suggests.

“If you think I’m leaving when I've been left to the wayside and sick with worry this entire time, you’re sorely mistaken!” Grell protests, “if there’s anyone that can bring her darling Will home, it’ll be me!”

Kimiko smiles at that. “I am pleased to see you have the confidence to carry that out.” she turns around, pointing down the street, “if we wait at the hot spot then we will be ready when the gateway opens at eight.”

“Wonderful idea!” her face then falls, switching to something more serious, “and Ronnie? Did you see him?”

“I did.” she answers with a nod. “He is with William as far as I know. My son, Knox and I were separated when a storm swept through town.”

There’s some relief on both Grell and Alan’s features. “Oh thank Styx.” Grell sighs, hugging Alan around the shoulders, careful of his injured one, “them being together will hopefully mean they’ll come back together.”

Alan nods in turn. “Then I wonder if Eric’s already at this hot spot. I was hoping to spend just a bit more time with him before he left.”

“I’m afraid I don’t know. Callum retrieved me on his own. I saw no Eric with him.” she shows them the ring, “all he did was give me this as a promise of his return.”

Grell watches Alan’s expression quickly shift to worry and she taps him playfully on the cheek, “don’t worry dear. Eric was going to Haven, you knew he was, and I’m sure he’s putting up a hell of a fight. After all, he’s known to always come back for his damsel, doesn’t he?”

Immediately, Alan glares at her, shoving her away with his good arm, “I am not a damsel. If I didn’t have this injury, I’d gladly show you!”

“Ah there we are! The Allie I know and…tolerate, is back!”

Even if it’s not her normal, Kimiko is glad to feel some sense of normalcy return. “Please, both of you. We will go and we will wait where we can greet them upon their immediate return.”

Alan sighs. “Right, sorry. Lead the way.”

So Kimiko does, taking them to Eric’s old family home. Alan doesn’t know that’s the place he’s stepping into, but the moment his eyes land on a old photo of Eric with his parents, his heart drops. “Is this…” he swallows, “Eric mentioned you were taking him to his family home when he asked you to go with him to Haven the first time. Is this…it?”

“It is.” Kimiko answers, her fingers gently brushing over the dusty wall, “they tried so hard to make this a proper home for Eric until Callum told them that they would need to sacrifice him once he reached ten years of age.”

Hearing that, Alan’s hit by a profound sadness that aches at his very core, “I wish Haven never existed.” he whispers, running his good hand over the entry table, “then Eric would still be with his family.”

“He would never have met you.” Grell counters.

“That wouldn’t matter.” Alan responds, “he wouldn’t have suffered such a great loss at such a young age.” he tries to smile, “besides, I’d like to believe Eric and I would still find each other in that timeline. It just would take some time, but, I’d wait for centuries for him as I know he would for me.”

“Well…” Grell sighs. “I suppose the two of you really are soulmates then.” she sighs again, cupping her own cheek, staring off into the distance, “lucky. I still have to wait for my prince charming to show up.”

Kimiko offers Grell a small smile, “I’m sure you will not have to wait long. You’ll eventually find the one you deem worthy of you and the one who will strive to be with you as well.”

Grell flashes her a smile in turn, “well, thank you darling. I suppose coming from a Spears, I should take those words to heart.”

It goes quiet after that. It’s the waiting game now, Alan taking the time to admire the home, while Grell files her nails to keep her nerves at bay. Kimiko is the only one that’s sitting still, listening, waiting, hoping when the gateway opens, her husband and son will return home.

Then, a portal does open.

Ronald throws himself out of it, landing hard on his hands and knees, heaving like he’d run a human marathon. “Ronnie!” Grell cries.

“Ronald!” Alan shouts, both him and Grell immediately next to him and it takes only a second for Alan to notice Ronald’s hand, “your finger!” he gasps, “what the hell happened?!”

“It’s missing!” Grell gawks. “Ron!”

Slowly, Ronald’s breathing evens out and he forces himself up to a kneeling position. There’s tears brimming in his eyes from the overwhelming feeling of being home that he almost forgets that he needs to go back. He swallows down those emotions, instead anchoring himself by looking at the two older reapers but the anchoring doesn't last long as relief consumes him again. He throws himself into Grell’s arms, nuzzling against her, “Grell.” he hiccups, on the verge of tears, “Grell.”

Grell instantly returns the embrace, hugging him tightly as she feels how tight he’s holding her. “Ronnie,” she coos, “it’s alright darling. You’re home. You’re safe.”

But upon hearing that, Ronald jumps back, rapidly shaking his head, “not yet! I’m not safe yet! I gotta go back and get Will and Eric out! I only ran because Eric told me to! They’re still stuck!” he grabs Grell’s arms, “you gotta help!”

“I feel like there’s a lot of things we need to know first.” Alan says, still focused on Ronald’s missing finger.

“There’s no time!” he insists, “Please!”

Kimiko folds her hands to her chest again, “he’s right. There won’t be time left if he were to explain everything right now.”

Alan nibbles at his lower lip. He’d much prefer to be told what’s happening so they could formulate some sort of plan but with the increasing panic in Ronald’s voice, it really sounds like they don’t have that time. “Just come back in one piece. All of you.”

Grell stands up, summoning her scythe. “Don’t worry darling. The only thing that’ll be in pieces, is whatever comes between me and Will.”

Ronald looks at her scythe then immediately summons his own. It’s familiar in his hands and it gives him some faith they’ll be able to finally put an end to the bloody demon. “Let’s go!”

Grell doesn’t need to be told twice, slipping easily though the portal, but her confidence wanes just a bit when the air feels different. It felt dead. “I see why this place is as awful as everyone’s made it sound.” she says.

“Yeah.” Ronald swallows, “now c’mon. The ritual’s this way.”

Grell follows Ronald all the way back to the lake where she sees Ronald really wasn’t kidding when he said ritual. However, what really boils her blood are familiar figures forced to kneel in front of the hooded cultists, hands bound behind their backs and strips of cloth forcefully tied around their heads, slipped between their lips. “Oh how dare they!” she squawks.

Ronald yanks her behind a tree before she can run off. “Hang on.” he tells her. “We gotta be smart about this.”

Grell tampers her temper for the moment, knowing Ronald’s right but it doesn’t take long for it to rise again as Rose begins to cross the dock, her arms held out and high toward the dark sky, “oh Star! Hear my call! For I offer you the soul of innocence! In our infinite minute, I offer you the essence of purity to grace our lands with your fertile blessing! To grace our families with the offspring they desire! To grace our lives with your protection! Oh Star! Hear my call! I offer you Eric Slingby as our gift for you!”

Immediately, Grell revs the engine of her scythe, "that's it!” she yells before charging in.

“Wait!” Ronald shouts but it’s too late.

Grell cuts her way through the group of cultists, her vibrant red hair a stark contrast to the dreary, darkness all around them. “You’re not laying a head on him or Will!” she declares, twirling her scythe with practised ease, slicing through three cultists at once.

The cultists, so enthralled by Rose’s speech, are taken by surprise, Grell craving a path through most of them, scythe slashing through their robes. They fall without a sound, turning to ash, the fine dust frozen in the air. The others turn on her, their vacant eyes now fixed on the new threat.

Rose merely watches, a cold smile on her face.

Grell laughs, a sound that rings with confidence, “honestly! I’ve fought better humans than whatever the hell any of you are!” She’s so lost in the thrill of battle, that she fails to recognise the cultists she previously thought she killed, were now reforming, returning to solid forms despite their tattered robes.

As more and more cultists continue to swarm her, she begins to feel the effects of Haven as her energy depletes surprisingly quickly. What were once grand swings of strength, are now almost pitiful slashes at the cultists just in front of her. Soon, hands are grabbing at her arms, their grip surprisingly strong. She struggles, but there’s too many of them; she feels a dull ache in her arms as her scythe feels incredibly heavy and finally, she’s forced to drop it as her reaper body succumbs to what Haven makes it: Human.

Ronald watches horrified from where he’s still hiding but, despite the fear that tells him to turn tail and run, he sucks in a breath, grips his own scythe and runs in with a roar. “Grell!” and yet, he forgets there’s someone else waiting. Someone else watching.

Just as he swings his scythe, the rotating blades ready to slice, a black, smoky pillar shoots up from the ground, blocking the attack and sending Ronald reeling backwards. His scythe is tossed away and Rose approaches him, her smile condescendingly gentle. “Welcome home, Ronald.” She cups his jaw, “I see you brought another friend. A shame she cannot take your place.”

Ronald struggles as more of those black, wispy tendrils appear from behind her, wrapping him in their grip, forcing him to follow her toward the dock. He struggles the best he can but it’s no use. He can only look behind him to see his companions watch on in horror, all of them trying desperately to free themselves of their binds, “Ronnie!” Grell cries out, her body still too weak to throw off the cultists holding her down.

Rose’s smile turns wicked as she throws up her arms again. “Oh Star! Hear me once again! I return to you what was stolen many years ago! Oh Star! Hear me as I offer you Ronald Knox!” Rose's voice echoes across the lake. Then, after a second, the dark clouds above the lake begin shifting, then a sharp crack as lightning strikes the end of the dock. The rising smoke begins to swirl, gathering more and more mass as it rises in a humanoid shape and with it, two points of brilliant, bright amber. The cultists that are not holding Grell down, all bow on their knees and Ronald feels raw, primal fear shoot through him.

The Star has arrived.

The demon stands there just as he’d revealed himself to them before. His eyes sweep over the cultists, lingering on those pinned and tied up before landing on Rose, who offers her hands to the creature, “Our Star,” she whispers, voice reverent, laced with sickening adoration, “I have done what she could not. I have collected most of the sacrifices promised to you. I have returned Ronald to you.”

The Star’s gaze lands on Ronald, a cruel, knowing smile forming on his lips, “yes, you have. I did not have any doubts you would return him to me, whether you collected him or he gave himself to me of free will. He knows his destiny, that he is mine to claim.” he walks past Rose and up to Ronald who struggles in his smokey bindings, “I do apologise for dragging this out.” he says, cupping Ronald’s jaw, “you see, it had to be done this way, otherwise, you would forever be trapped within Haven.”

Ronald spits at the demon. “So what’ll be the difference then huh? Trapped in your stomach instead?!”

The demon squeezes tighter on his jaw, wiping the saliva from his cheek with the back of his hand. “I do love a meal that talks back. It makes it all the more satisfying to devour them.” he raises one clawed hand, Grell crying out while the other two helplessly watch as the younger reaper is sacrificed right in front of them—

And yet,

Music.

Music that sounds peaceful, calming, restful even. The demon looks up, Rose’s face utterly surprised as the song finds its way over the ritual; the cultists who are bowed begin to moan in pain before that moaning quickly turns to wailing. Grell flinches as one of the ones holding her down, outright explodes into ashy particles again, except this time, they drop to the ground, lifeless for good this time. Then, one by one, they all begin to do the same.

Then it begins to affect Rose and the demon as they recoil at the sound. The bindings that trapped Ronald dissipate and immediately, Ronald tries to run but the demon snatches him by his throat, lifting him off the ground, his feet dangling in the air, “what have you done?!” the demon hisses.

“D-Dunno.” he answers honestly, trying desperately to pry the demon’s fingers off.

“Wasn’t him that had anythin’ to do it with it.” Eric speaks up once Grell’s freed him.

The demon snaps his eyes to Eric, a growl rumbling from his chest as he tosses Ronald aside, coming face to face with Eric in a matter of seconds, “you’re the culprit?!”

“Aye.” Eric tells him with confidence, not backing down from the creature that’s inches away. On a whim, he flicks out his hand and he grins when his scythe materialises into it, “just ashamed it didn’t kill ye off too.”

The Star growls and snaps his fingers. Seems he still had some power to summon a few cultists from their ashy graves, but it’s far less than it was before and Grell, feeling her strength returning to her, grins ear to ear, “lovely! I was hoping for round two!”

“Aye! So was I!”

Grell and Eric take the brunt of the attack while William rushes over to where Ronald lay panting, rubbing at the bruise marks around his neck. “Are you alright?” he asks, helping Ronald sit up.

Ronald swallows, wincing a bit, “y-yeah. Yeah, I’m good.” he meets William’s eyes, “just…what happened?” so William gives him a quick run down and he’s shocked to be honest, “so, that’s what we had to do? Play the song backwards?”

“It appears so.” William says, watching Eric and Grell’s strength slowly returning, “although, I am curious as to how. If time stopped, if the bell still rang, if you were still to be the sacrifice, how was the song able to be heard?”

Ronald holds William’s good hand to his chest, “maybe…maybe because it’s influenced by a real person?”

William considers the idea, “I suppose that makes sense. Everything else the demon has control over, but the sacrifices themselves, and the being that need to play the pipe organ, are nothing it could control.”

Ronald swallows again, “who is playin’ it?”

“I’d assume my father considering he’s not here with us.”

Ronald balks. “Older Mr. Spears is here again?!”

William can’t help but laugh, “yes. He is. Mother sent him to collect me.”

Ronald blinks, “I thought when he got out the first time, he wouldn’t wanna come back.”

“So did I.” William comments, standing up and offering his hand to Ronald, “and I should warn you that the woman that we see now, is not Rebecca.” he explains as he helps Ronald to his feet.

“She’s not?”

“No. Rebecca was killed. Slingby and I deduced that the woman up there is Rose, Rebecca’s doppelgänger.”

“Killed.” Ronald repeats, a solemn tone to his voice. “I…guess that makes sense.”

“Is something wrong?”

Ronald looks at William, almost afraid to tell the older reaper what he’d experienced but they promised to tell each other the truth and he plans to keep to that. “I…” he breathes out, “when I was unconscious, I guess, I was havin’ this dream that Rebecca was with me. The real her. Who my mum woulda been without Haven.”

William runs his fingers through Ronald’s hair, “I’m sorry Knox.”

Ronald nods. “Don’t be. I’m just…I guess I just wish there was a way to save her.”

William drops his hand from Ronald’s hair to his cheek, cupping it and running his thumb under Ronald’s eye, “if it makes you feel any better, my father made her death quick.”

Ronald holds his gaze, “he did?”

“Yes. It was painless.”

Ronald’s not sure what to make of that, but he’s glad she didn’t suffer. “Okay…I’m…I’m happy to hear that, at least.”

William kisses his cheek then leans back, summoning his scythe, “are you capable of fighting?”

Ronald summons his own scythe back to his side, “yeah. I think so.”

“Then let us help. We may have some of our strength back, but this is still the Star’s domain.”

As William swiftly joins the battle, blocking an attack for Grell, Ronald finds he hesitates for merely a moment. When this was all over, when they made sure they won, would he vanish alongside Haven? He was technically part of this world, a creation meant for death, half of a soul of a boy that was killed many decades ago. Even if he didn’t vanish, would he still be accepted into the world of reaper? Would Eric and Grell still want him around? Would William still love him as he promised he would? Maybe, for him, the best course of action would be to keep Haven alive.

No.

That’s Haven talking. Haven surviving would only continue to bring destruction and death along with it. Watching his companions fight on his behalf helps make up his mind.

Haven ends today.

Chapter Text

It may not have been a bloody battle, but it was certainly an exhausting one. While Haven’s influence was waning, that didn’t mean they were no longer affected by said influence. Their energy was dropping rapidly and soon, strikes meant to be precise, were now sloppy and easily blocked. Grell’s frustration is clear on her face, Eric’s own shown through how hard he tries to swing his scythe and how little the scythe actually does when it connects with its target. Ronald’s already struggling to get a proper grip on his own scythe with one hand at a significant disadvantage. The only one who didn’t appear to be struggling as much, was William.

The cultists were dispatched first, telling them that while Haven’s influence faded, so did some of the demon’s power. The creatures the demon brought back from ash were clumsy, less able than the reaper’s they tried to mimic before but then, that only left the demon and Rose to be dealt with. While weaker, the Star was still stronger than they were, the creature’s body already unaffected by exhaustion as was the nature of demons.

The demon easily smacks Eric’s scythe away when he attacks, slamming his palm into Eric’s chest and sending him flying backward then quickly defends against Grell’s attack, disarming her and tossing her away. It’s William, however, that’s able to injure the demon, even just a bit. The tip of his scythe slashes straight through the demon’s side when he was distracted by Grell. 

The creature hisses, snarling at William who stands at the ready in front of him, almost taunting him as he stands in defiance. “I see.” the demon grins, a mocking, terrible grin, “I see my power alone is not enough to put an end to all of you.”

“A demon admitting they’re weak? Fascinating.” William taunts. “Normally, your kind is too prideful for that.”

The demon laughs, a sound low and dangerous. “Who are you to speak of ‘my kind’ when you do not even understand your own? You would not have even existed without Haven!” the demon takes a step closer to William, voice dropping lower, “without me.”

William grits his teeth, “that goes for me too.” Ronald steps in before William can speak. He slots himself next to the older reaper. “But that doesn’t mean we’re gonna thank you and let you destroy even more lives!”

The demon stands up straight, eyeing Ronald with, almost, a kind, soft expression before he turns his back to them, “I see then. I had hoped that you would accept your fate as one of my sacrifices, that Haven would continue to thrive once Ronan’s curse was broken.” he puts his hand on Rose’s shoulder, glancing over his own to the reaper’s, “now I understand I must destroy it all and start again.”

Rose looks at her Star, Ronald sickened by the love he sees in her eyes. “Use me, my darling.” she says, bringing his hand to her chest, “take back what should be yours.”

“You don’t gotta be used by him!” Ronald shouts, the desperation clear in his voice, “please! Snap out of it! You can stay with me! You can…we can be family like mum wanted us to be! There’s no more secrets!” The desperation gets worse, William actively holding Ronald back by his arm as tears stream down his cheeks, “it’ll be easy to start over!” Rose ignores him completely. All she sees, is the creature she owes her life to.

Ronald tenses, then instantly hides his face against William’s shoulder as the demon instantly tears through her chest once her permission is given. The light in her eyes fades and once the creature removes his hand, her body crumbles like a puppet without strings. In the demon’s hand, is her soul, one that appears to hold another soul inside it, copying the life she was replacing but all Ronald sees, as he dares to look back, is the body of the mother he was starting to understand.

The demon uses Rose’s soul, inserting it into his own chest–the wind begins to pick up, wispy black smoke starting to encase the demon. Eric subconsciously puts himself in front of Ronald and William, William’s own arm darting out in front of Ronald as Grell stands at the ready on the opposite side of Ronald as black smoke shoots up into the sky, creating a veil that muffles the song.

Then, as the smoke dissipates, it reveals the creature is no longer in its human form. The demon’s grown taller, its form only vaguely human but its limbs are elongated, tipped with sharp, obsidian claws. Its face is a featureless mask, save for those two burning eyes that seem to pierce them to their very souls. “Now,” says the demon, its voice carrying on the wind, “I shall take what belongs to me.”

Grell’s the one to attack first, adrenaline coursing through her after the first phase of battle. Her scythe sings as it cuts through the air, her strike meant for the demon’s eyes but the demon’s head snaps back, a low growl escaping it as Grell’s blade just grazes the side of its face and yet, there’s no sign of injury.

William and Eric strike next in a coordinated assault. William’s scythe allows him that precision and distance while Eric uses his own to deflect the demon’s powerful claws, creating a small opening for Grell to attack again. But the demon almost seems to know what they’re planning to do before they do it. Its claw slashes across Grell’s scythe, sending her flying while its other slams into the ground, shattering the very foundation beneath their feet, opening up a small cavern that Eric and William barely find their footing against.

Ronald quickly wipes at his eyes, collecting himself before throwing himself into the battle, but the whirling blades of his scythe do nothing against the creature’s almost impenetrable hide. All it does, is cause the demon to lash out even stronger, tossing Eric and Grell back again as if they were nothing but toys, then batting Ronald away with a single hand. While the reapers had hopes this would be a fair fight, with the pipe organ’s music nearly muted and the demon consuming Rose, its power is far stronger than theirs. “What the hell do we do?” Eric pants as he, Grell and Ronald have found safety behind one of the large rocks on the lake’s shore, William using himself to keep the demon’s attention.

“No idea.” Ronald swallows, eyes trained on William, watching how fluid his movements are, his entire being more akin to a fly for the demon than a reaper, “no matter what we do, it can’t kill us and we can’t kill it!” 

“You and Will were here the longest, Ron, so surely you’ve got some idea how we can put that bloody creature down!” Grell harshly whispers.

Ronald swallows. “I really don’t know.”

“All Ronan told Will and I was that playin’ the song backwards would release the spirits and would weaken this fucker.” Eric growls, “now, it looks like that did fuck all.”

“What about Ronan himself?" Ronald suggests. “Could he do anything? I mean, he's the reason this curse exists, right?”