So Luke did what felt right, he accepted. Master brought him home, and presented him to the crystal. He placed his hands onto the magical object, and it bequeathed to him the powers of a Reaper. Burning into his palms a cross, his specialty being retrieving the good souls of religious individuals. The palace became his home, but unlike his father, he wasn't bound to the estate. He could stay on Earth for much longer, which lessened Master's burden. The original Reaper was quite happy with the turn of events. He felt as if half a hole he didn't even realize existed, was filled. He knew that meant he had another child out there somewhere, and that one day Luke would get a younger sibling. That day was twenty years later, in 1609, when he stumbled upon an ill Darla. He felt the familiar telltale sign of their souls intertwining. He approached the young woman the following night, and much like with Luke, explained the situation. She also accepted, becoming Darla Grim. She too stood before the crystal to receive her powers. She bore the mark of a bitten apple on her palms, her specialty being collecting the benevolent souls of sex workers. Her father felt content, complete. He could tell that meant he wouldn't find any more children, and he was fine with that. More than grateful for the two he now had. It was just the three of them for a long time, and while the siblings were happy, they were incomplete. Missing pieces of themselves they didn't know were lost.




They expressed this to their father, and he reassured them there were children made for them, as they were made for him. They just hadn't found them yet. So they waited, and one hundred and forty-four years later in 1753, Darla Grim bumped into an intoxicated Liam. She was confused, this intense bond she felt couldn't be mistaken for anything else, he was made for her. Yet he didn't feel like a son. She didn't think such a thing were possible, Master hadn't taught her what to do in a situation such as that. So she fled, returning to her home in frustrated tears, regaling her family with what happened. Her father wiped away the moisture gathered on her face. Told her she was correct in that Liam wasn't her son, but in fact her intended, her soulmate. Her other half meant to fit her perfectly. She was thrilled by the news, her brother was a tad jealous, and Master marveled at how his family was growing in ways he hadn't expected. He urged her to go to him the following night. Reveal her intentions and his destiny, should he agree, as her father had done. She heeded his advice and did just that. He agreed without hesitation, and was welcomed into the family as Liam Grim. His palm marks were that of a drop of blood, his powers and specialty lying in gathering the worthy souls of tortured victims. They got married in the palace a week after his Reaper ceremony.




Luke thankfully didn't have to wait too much longer for his own soulmate, twenty years later in 1773, he met Cordelia. So of course he raced home in all his excitement and informed the others of the new development. With all their support, he set off to do what his sister had already accomplished, bringing back a new family member. His intended ended up being a bit of a tougher sell than the more than eager Liam, but as Luke outlined the finer details of his occupation she became interested. It helped that the pull of their connection was hard for her to ignore as well. He succeeded, and she was hence forth known as Cordelia Grim. A crown adorned her palms as her specialty was to pluck the benevolent souls of leaders. As per the new tradition, they'd wed a week later. The siblings' spouses now too felt the previously unnoticed void being filled, but only partially. They were waiting for their children to be found, as these children would be made for them just as much as they were made for Darla and Luke. It was 1840, sixty-seven years later, when Darla finally found her first child. A daughter named Elizabeth. She wasted no time in taking the girl aside. The girl was skeptical, naturally, until she witnessed her mother bottle a soul. That did it for her, looking at the glowing being inside that jar. Knowing the person would be safe and cared for all because of a Reaper. Knowing she could save souls too if she embraced her fate, made her follow Darla to her new home.




Where she was embraced by her new family and calling. They proudly watched on as she accepted her gift from the crystal. Her palms were branded with an hourglass, and her specialty was saving the virtuous souls of the elderly. Elizabeth Grim was where she belonged, and the hole in her parents' hearts was halfway filled up. It seemed that they would indeed have another child. Twenty years from then, in 1860, Liam would come home with Elizabeth's younger sister. A clairvoyant woman named Drusilla. She foresaw her father's retrieval of her, and complied before he even uttered a sound. Drusilla Grim was given a doll on her palms, her specialty being whisking away the pure souls of children. Her parents' hearts were full, their part of the family was complete. It was expected that Luke and Cordelia would have to wait anywhere from between half to a full century for their children. Elizabeth and Drusilla didn't even think to worry about soulmates and children, assuming it'd be their turn in a few centuries. So they pushed away the ache that settled deep within themselves. Until the most amazing thing happened. It was 1880, only twenty years later, and the girls were in London. Saving beings from Eaters, you know, the usual. While traversing through the city, they saw a handsome young man on the opposite street corner. Elizabeth felt a tingle go up her spine, the pain in her chest lessened.




A lone soul called out to hers in the night, an indescribable deep connection formed. He was her soulmate. He was made for her, and she loathed having to leave him there for now, but there were still souls in the area to reap. You can imagine the family's surprise at the news, but they were happy for her. Fate was the one pulling the strings after all, and if her aunt and uncle had a problem, it wasn't with her. So the next night she dressed up, and crashed a party. Gave a sweet poet his book back, and asked him to dance. They may have only shared two wonderful dances, but Elizabeth was already in love with William. She doesn't think a stronger bond between two people could possibly exist, and that's why she's deeply terrified he won't come with her when she's asks him. She's terrified that in a few hours she'll have to say goodbye to you. That no matter how much time will have passed from then on, I'll always have a piece of myself missing. So please, my love, believe me. Believe me, and love me enough to stay with me. To become a Reaper, to become William Grim.", Elizabeth narrates. William stares at her blankly, with wide eyes. No words, he has no words. No thoughts even, except that if she took up a pen name and published that story of hers she'd be famous. He doesn't know whether to call her brilliantly creative, completely off her bird, or both. She wilts under his unmoving expression. She seems to tear up at the thought of him rejecting her.




Something inside of him fractures, he feels like a right git. He blinks a few times. "Can you, pro- show me?", he hoarsely pleads. He wants- no, NEEDS, to believe her. That he's fallen for some equivalent to an angel, instead of an escaped asylum patient. Would that make William himself over the bend barmy, if he actually sees her produce some sort of proof? She tersely nods before ripping her hands away from his own. Had he been holding them for the duration of her story? He hands feel cold and empty now as they drop into his lap, boy is he buggered. She holds her hands out in front of herself palm up. They're blank, he feels sick. She closes her eyes, and a glowing emblem of a sodding hourglass breaches the skin of her palms. He gapes at her like a fish out of water. If she's gone completely carrot top, then he's right there with her. She opens her eyes just as they arrive at his home. Blakeley opens the door for them. Oh, right, they're in a carriage. He numbly climbs out, and doesn't turn around as he hears her feet hit the gravel. He bids the coachman a good night before the man pulls away. What in the bloody Hell was he supposed to do now? How is he supposed to make such a monumental decision in the span of a couple of hours, if they even have that much time left? He can't live without her, he knows he can't. The thought of doing such for the rest of his days feels like a knife to the heart, but to leave Mother and everything he holds dear behind?




"I haven't the slightest clue what I'm to do about all of this, but I believe you, for what it's worth.", he finally says to her. She's standing beside him, she doesn't look too happy, but she isn't crying anymore at least. "It's worth an awful lot actually. Getting you to believe me was half the battle.", she sighs. The answer to this predicament seems so obvious doesn't it? As if there would be any other choice than her. He's sure there are books and parchment in Heaven. He certainly wouldn't miss being teased and ridiculed by all of London, but he would miss her should she depart without him in tow. It's his mother that's the kicker of this. She couldn't possibly live all on her own, regardless of the staff under their employment. Not that she'd have the funds to employ anyone if he left. It'd be too selfish of him to abandon her at a time like this, while she's stricken down by consumption. Yet wouldn't it be selfish of him to break Ms. Elizabeth's heart? To doom her, from what he understands, to remain unwed and alone as her sister and future cousins marry and have children. All because he was too stupid to make preparations. Ensuring that if something were to suddenly happen to him, his mother would be looked after until the end of her days. If only he had the time to make such an arrangement. They walked up the path to the front entryway in silence, stopping just short of the door. "If it were just me, I'd join you in a heartbeat, but my mother..", he trails off.




He can't find it within himself to actually turn her down. This is excruciatingly painful. He'd honestly rather be taken out into a field and shot dead. "Oh.", she chokes out as she turns away from him. Bollocks, why does the Universe hate him so? It looks as if she's about to disappear into the night, he panics. He reaches for her, urging Elizabeth to face him once again. She can't go, he won't let her! She looks so stricken, he hates himself for being the cause of her pain. All his life he's wanted someone to love, and to have someone love him in return. Now that he has it, he's just going to let such a precious thing slip through his fingers?! "Please don't leave me, I just need a little more time to figure something out! Who will- my mother- but I want, I so desperately want..", he frantically whimpers. Her face softens immediately. She understands, he hopes, that she owns his whole heart and very soul. To be without her.. He might as well be reduced to one of those Soul Eaters she mentioned earlier. Unhappy, empty, hungry, never satisfied, and in Hell. That's his fate if he ends up losing his Golden Goddess. "I see what you want.", a female voice calls out to them. William's startled, he lets go of Elizabeth and whips around to come face to face with that other woman, his intended's sister. "Drusilla, whatever are you doing here?", his lady peaks out from around his shoulder to ask. Huh, Drusilla, seems like a fitting name for the young woman in front of him.




She laughs, it reminds him of bells tinkling. She seems to ignore Ms. Elizabeth, focusing in on William instead. She takes a step towards him, her hypnotic stare freezing him in place. "You want something glowing, and glistening. Something, effulgent. You want the Sunshine, you want, her.", she tells him before looking over at the object of his affections. She speaks as if she's entered his mind, made sense of what she's seen, and crawled back out to relay her findings. It's slightly disturbing, yet also oddly comforting. If those two feelings are even capable of coexistence. The sisters survey each other while he's stuck in the middle. One looks curious, the other looks certain. "How did you-?", he begins to question. "Drusilla's clairvoyant, if you'll recall.", his Electryone reminds him. He makes a sound of acknowledgement. He's never met a clairvoyant individual before. Hell, he was positive such abilities were all talk and folklore until Ms. Elizabeth opened his eyes. Now that he's aware, her all knowing hazy gaze is less daunting. "You do want it, don't you?", the dark plum asks. Her attention is still fixed solely on him. The simple question seems to have a deeper layered meaning, at least that's how it feels. Like something's tugging at his innards, scraping against his brain, all in pursuit of the absolute all encompassing truth. "Yes, God yes.", he groans out. She smiles at him with both rows of teeth. It comes across as quite childlike and innocent.




He wonders if that's why she's the only one in her family so far that specifically goes for children's souls. Because her own soul is just as pure and wholesome. It seems like such a bold assumption to make, but looking at her now, he can't picture her as being anything other than. He hears a gasp, it's his Elizabeth. She slides in front of him, blocking Drusilla. It snaps him out of his stupor. "Does that mean you accept?", she prompts with wide eyes. He did agree just then, didn't he? His mind flashes to his poor mother. His mother, who's always rooted for his happiness above all. Who's wanted him to settle down and get married for years now at this point. His mother, whom if she were standing with them right this moment, would encourage him to live his life. To go be happy and in love, bugger anything else. It's then he realized what her sister was doing at his estate without invitation. She was there to help him come to terms with his answer, the only right answer there was. "I do.", he confirms. Ms. Elizabeth's smile is so bright and radiant, he's halfway convinced the sun's decided to come out in the middle of the night to shine down on them. Without warning, her hands are cradling his face, and her lips are pressed to his. The world stops spinning, all the clocks in the world stop ticking. There's only her, everything else falls away. He lets out the most desperate moan at he pulls her flush against him. She's so warm, her touch scorching, she's burning him up.




She's in his head, his heart, his soul. Her essence surrounds his body, she's all he can ever remember thinking about. He's drowning in her. When she finally pulls away from him, his mouth chases after hers. That one kiss wasn't enough for him, he's not sure he'll ever get enough of her. She gives in, until someone clears their throat behind her. His face reddens to the shade of a tomato once he remembers they have an audience, his intended's little sister no less. Yet here he was mauling Ms. Elizabeth right in front of her, right in front of his home! Why, if any of the staff decided to open the grand doors for any reason- goodness! He really did lose himself in her. He lessens his steel grip on her before taking a step back. "I apologize profusely Ms. Drusilla. I didn't mean to subject you to such an intimate display.", William expresses. His lady takes up her place at his side again, interlocking her hand in his. "Oh don't worry about her dearest, she's seen worse from our parents.", his Golden Goddess brushes off. Well that sounds horrific in its own right. When he was younger, he had never bore witness to his parents- and thank God for that. He must admit, his future sister in law doesn't look the least bit disturbed. "Yes indeed, that's not why I interrupted. The pendulum's about to stop swinging, can't you feel it?", the inquiry is directed at the wonderful woman beside him. What on Earth- how would you be able to sense if a clock broke down somewhere, and how is that relevant to the current situation?




"Who is about to- OH MY GOD!", Elizabeth loudly exclaims. Her sister's odd words are immediately forgotten. "Love, what's the matter?", he asks with unease. She drops his hand, moving to rip the entrance of his home wide open. "Come! We must hurry, while there's still time!", she urges before bolting inside. Drusilla's quick on her heels as William brings up the rear. Lagging behind for a few seconds due to him shutting the doors behind them. They dash past concerned maids, going up the stairs to the second floor. He doesn't have time to be confused about what the devil is happening, not when the ladies are making a beeline for his mother's chambers. "Oi! You can't just barge-", he starts to object. The protest dies on his lips as he hears one of the most extreme coughing fits, to ever erupt from his soft spoken mother's mouth, fill the room. Someone closes the door after him, he's not sure who at this point. All he knows is that his mother didn't look nearly this ill before he left this evening. She's laying in her bed, taking ragged short breaths. Her skin is sickly pale and covered with a thin sheen of sweat. Her eyes appear sunken in. All of it combined puts the fear of God in him. He's at her side in an instant. "Mother! Mother, it's me, William. I'm here, what's happened? Have you taken your medication? Have you rung for the maids? Of course you haven't, if you did they would've sent for the doctor by now. The doctor! I'll ring for him right now, don't you worry, we'll have you feeling better in no time.", he distraughtly babbles.




He storms across the room, very much in a hurry to reach the telephone. "William.", someone tries to gain his focus. "What?!", he snaps at whomever thought to interfere at a scary time like this. That someone comes into his field of vision, it's Elizabeth. He instantly feels like a right git for being so harsh, but she's wasting precious time that his mother might not have! Something in her gaze makes his blood run cold. Out of the bottoms of his eyes he sees something glowing. He looks down, it's coming from her hands. He grabs them, quickly turning them over to see those blasted hourglasses in full glow. She's wearing a satchel, she didn't have one earlier. He feels horribly ill, like he might pass out or throw up. He drops her hands, backing away from her. Moving to protectively stand between his mother's bed and her. He's shaking his head as she cautiously approaches. He's crying now, she looks apologetic. "No, no, please, not her. ANYONE but her, it can't be her time yet! SHE CANNOT DIE!", he wails. His pain is her pain, she looks as broken as he feels. She doesn't want to do this, he can tell, but she has to. It's her duty, and if she doesn't, his mother becomes a Soul Eater, a monster. Either way, she's going to die tonight, and there's nothing he can do to save her. He's sure Elizabeth would've already called upon the doctor for him if it would do any bloody good. She wouldn't hurt him like this if there were another way. He already accepted her proposal after all, his mother wasn't keeping him here anymore.




The hands of Fate are an absolute bitch. "I'm so sorry William.", she apologizes as she's fishing a glass carboy out of that damn bag of hers. He falls to his knees and buries his head in his hands. He can't watch, he simply cannot survive the sight of his mother's death. Drusilla hauls him to his feet. She's rather strong for someone of her small stature. "Now now, none of that. There's still time for a goodbye, she'd like that, Ms. Edith said so. She'll be happy to know you'll be looked after.", she soothes. He feels like an inconsiderate wanker. Worried about his own fragile heart, when his mother's the one about to take a trip to The Great Beyond against her will. The least he could do is make her final moments on Earth good ones. "My insightful sister's right, and you must remember; her body may fail, but her soul will live on for eternity.", Elizabeth provides some additional comfort as they make their way over to his mother's bedside. She's not coughing anymore, but she looks very weak. That fit must've taken a lot out of her. He hopes that she'll fall asleep before it happens, that it'll be painless. Then she'll wake up in Heaven's Waiting Room, before moving right along to her rightful place among those other nice souls. Maybe his father will be there to greet her. He valiantly tries to clean up his face, he doesn't want her to worry about him one bit. When she finally notices them, and seems coherent enough, he gently takes one of her hands in his.




"Hello Mother, I have returned from the party. Earlier than I originally intended I admit, but for a very good reason. There's someone I'd like you to meet.", he starts prior to placing her hand in Elizabeth's. She looks surprised but pleased. Well, as surprised and pleased a person can look while on their death bed.. He quivers at the thought before shaking himself out of it. Hold it together ol' chap, don't think about the d-word, he reminds himself. He has to remain strong, for her. "Well hello there my dear, don't you look lovely. I'm Mrs. Pratt, but you can call me Anne.", his mother croaks out. Drusilla produces a glass of water from somewhere, he nods at her gratefully. He holds it for his mother as she gulps some down. "It's very nice to meet you, Anne. I'm Elizabeth Grim, and this is my sister, Drusilla Grim.", his Golden Goddess introduces. Her sister takes the glass back from William as his mother gives said sister a warm smile. "I feel rather lucky, to be surrounded by such young beautiful faces. What's the occasion?", she flatters. Translation, why did he spring surprise guests on her in the wee hours of the night? Instead of inviting them over for a cuppa tea the following afternoon. "Ms. Elizabeth and Ms. Drusilla are catching the early morning train tomorrow and will be out of town. Do forgive me, we didn't mean to ambush you and I know this is sudden-", he scrambles for an explanation.




"Sudden yes, and if I'm being completely transparent, a bit jarring. Though there is nothing to forgive William. I'm touched you were so eager to show me off to your new friends.", his mother jumps in to joke. He can't help but laugh at her attempt to lighten the mood, even when she surely must feel like Hell itself. "Actually Mother, the reason this couldn't wait is because Ms. Elizabeth is so much more than that.", he gently corrects. She moves to sit up, the girls help her while he nervously wrings his hands. What if she thinks the engagement is too sudden? It is of course, out of the proper context, but given the circumstances he'd say it's right on track. It'd mean the world to him if he could get her blessing before- he just really wants her approval. "Oh, and what exactly is Ms. Grim to you, Son?", she asks with an unmistakable gleam in her eye. It seems as though she already approves of a courtship at the very least. He places a hand on his beloved's shoulder, she smiles encouragingly at him. She does that a lot, and he very well needs it. They really are a perfect match. "She's my intended.", he declares. His mother lets out a cry of joy, or relief. Since it's him he'd wager it's a mix of both. She looks back and forth between the two of them, as if to ensure this wasn't a cruel joke on their part. Her eyes are glassy, he thinks she's in danger of crying. "Oh my son, my darling boy, congratulations! You have no idea how happy this news makes me, and how proud of you I am!", she emotionally cheers.




William embraces her out of impulse and knowledge that it's the last chance he'll ever get to do so. As soon as they part his mother beckons Elizabeth closer, she complies. "You take good care of him, alright?", she tells her future daughter in law. His Electryone strongly nods without hesitation. "I promise you, your son will be loved and very well looked after for all of eternity. I will do everything I can to ensure his happiness.", she swears. His mother smiles fondly at her. She lays a hand on his lady's cheek. "That's all I could ever ask for.", she whispers. She lets go as she worms her way back into a horizontal position. "It's time.", Drusilla pipes up from her place beside the nightstand. He clamps a hand over his mouth to choke back a sob. He looks away, hoping to hide his distress. "You look tired, it's okay for you to rest now. We'll take care of everything.", Elizabeth suggests. His mother's struggling to keep her eyes open. "Yes I, do suppose I rather am, quite, knackered.", she mumbles. She closes her eyes, her breathing slows even more so . "Goodnight, Mother. I'll see you in the morning, I love you.", he tells her as he's placing a parting kiss on her forehead. Her chest stops rising and falling. His dearest opens that bottle she had on standby. The hourglasses on her palms bathe the entire space in a warm light. There's a mauve colored glow emanating from inside of his mother's chest. His intended places the mouth of the container against her heart.




The glow from his mother is slowly vacuumed into the glass, the sight is mesmerizing. He can't bring himself to look away, or to shed a tear even. How could he when the entire room's awash in a calm peacefulness? When Elizabeth's done everything dims, the only thing left glowing is his mother's soul. She gently tucks away the precious cargo into her satchel. She then wearily turns to him, as if she's fearful of his reaction. Does she think he'll be rather cross with her for something that was out of her control? He very easily could be, to air out his frustrations on her if nothing else. What a horrid thought. He takes her into his arms, caressing her golden hair as she nuzzles into him. "Does bottling a soul always feel like this, tranquil and reposeful?", he voices his curiosity. She draws away from him to take his hand. "For me at least, seeing as I tend to the elderly. After a long life full of ups and downs, this is a release for them. You were feeling what her soul felt as I removed it from her body.", she explains. That makes him feel marginally better, knowing in some sense his mother got the relief she'd been craving ever since she was diagnosed with consumption. Ms. Elizabeth guides him to the door. Not pushing nor dragging him along, but letting him leave behind this chapter of his life at his own pace. Ms. Drusilla's following them, he doesn't particularly notice. "Where are your bedchambers located?", his love asks.




His face reddens at the thought of his intended standing in the middle of his room so late at night without a proper chaperone. He realizes they're well beyond past such things, but his upbringing simply won't stop nagging at his consciousness. "T-this way.", he awkwardly directs them down the hall. They breach his room without further comment. "Do you trust me?", Elizabeth brings forth from out of no where. He's momentarily taken aback by the abruptness of the question. "Of course I do darling. Have I given you a reason to think otherwise?", he answers regardless. He hopes he hasn't done anything to suddenly put her off. Though seeing as she witnessed his inferiority among his peers, he doubts there's much more he could do to ruin himself in her eyes. She smiles while shaking her head, he swears the area around her got brighter for a moment. She opens her bag, digging around for a moment before pulling out an empty bottle. This didn't look like the one she used for his mother. This one looked rather ornate, as if a miniature tree had grown around the glass. "Lie down on the bed.", she instructs. He complies, although with a slight reluctance. He has no idea what she needs a soul sucking container for, but seeing as though there's only three people here including herself, he has a sneaking suspicion it has something to do with him. Does she plan on leeching his soul from his body? Surely not, he's alive after all, and nowhere near death.




It feels rather odd, laying on top of his blankets in full dress. It was better than the alternative of course, changing into sleepwear and tucking himself in while the ladies were present. His Golden Goddess approached him, palms once again gleaming. He's sure his eyes were comically wide, but he made no move to jump out of bed or shuffle away from her. He said he trusted her, and he was a man of his word. It's when she started to climb onto the piece of furniture he was currently occupying that he attempted to voice his concerns and confusion. She softly shushed him, whispering reassurances of how everything would be all right and no harm would befall onto him. He believed her, he couldn't do anything but believe her. He couldn't even properly process the grief he was trying so hard to compartmentalize, or the overwhelming amount of love he was being showered with. Both emotions were blurring together. He supposes it's only fitting for the two feelings to be so tightly intertwined. As the saying goes, grief and love are sisters. Woven together from the beginning. Their kinship reminds us that there is no love that does not contain loss, and no loss that is not a reminder of the love we carry for what we once held close. He's jarred from his thoughts when he feels the weight of something settling against his waist. Elizabeth's straddling him. If this was the way he kicked the bucket, he has no complaints.




Yet he clenches his jaw all the same, fighting against the urge to remind her how inappropriate such an intimate action was. Fighting even harder against the primal urge to clamp his hands on her hips, and grind her down over his erection that had formed as soon as she sat on him. He feels like a bad bad man. Her intentions aren't to seduce him, he should be ashamed of himself. She gives William a heated look as she places a steadying hand on his stomach. All thoughts of being even remotely ashamed get tossed out the proverbial window as his eyes glaze over. She leans into him as she places the special glass over his heart. "I love you.", Elizabeth reminds him. A red light surrounds them, it takes him a moment to realize he's the source. "I love you too.", he tells her as that calm peaceful feeling from earlier returns. He feels a slight tugging sensation before everything goes dark, almost as if he's fallen asleep. Though not quite, he's conscious, in a way. He feels warm, and safe. He can't move his body, which makes him wonder if he still has one. He couldn't tell you how much time had passed. It could've been as little as a few seconds, or as long as a few decades. All he knew was that suddenly, he was standing in front of his intended. Very much not in the bed he 'fell asleep' in. They were no longer in his house, or inside any building for the matter. The sky was like a watercolor painting, blotted with pinks, oranges, and even yellows. Fluffy white clouds moved at a leisurely pace.




His Elizabeth absolutely glowed, even more than usual, in this lighting. They stood in front of an impressive estate. Complete with winding pathways, pristine fields of grass, towering trees, and babbling fountains. The mansion itself had to be at least three to four floors high, made out of what appeared to be white marble. "Where are we?", he questioned. He heard Drusilla's melodic laughter before she appeared at his beloved's side. "Silly William, we're home now.", she informs him. Right, home, his new home, in Heaven. Or was it the edge of Heaven, was there a difference? Not that he gave a damn either way, the only thing he cared about was the gorgeous girl in front of him. He couldn't help himself, he darted forward. Claiming her in a fervent kiss. She eagerly reciprocated, gliding her fingers through his hair. He was a groaning mess as soon as she touched him. His hands were anchored to her waist, fearing to move them to a place she wouldn't approve of. Not knowing what would be considered too far. She lets out a huff before reluctantly attempting to pull away. He lets her, though he's quite unhappy about it. "There's no need to get pouty, sweetie. After your Reaper ceremony you can kiss me all you like.", his love promises. She wraps herself around one of his arms before leading him towards his future. Her sister hooked an arm through his free one and walked in step with them. He's sure they made quite the picture. Why, if those sorry sods from back h- from London could see him now.




He was received by the rest of the family with open arms, and the ceremony went off without a hitch. His symbol wasn't one of the more on the nose types, like Elizabeth's Aunt and Uncle's, a crown and cross respectively. It was a heart with a smaller one resting inside of it, the smaller tilted at an angle ever so slightly. A circle each for just above where the tops of both hearts sat. The image as a whole represented a mother holding a child. He nearly cried at the realization that his specialty was bringing peace to the gentle souls of mothers. He shared a room with his intended that night. Her room, which would soon become theirs, as it didn't feel right to lay claim to her bedchambers just yet. He waited until a week later, when they were properly married, to make that distinction. William took to being a Reaper rather well, his habit of being punctual definitely served in his favor. He was soothing and caring with all the mothers he assisted. He treated them as he would've Mrs. Anne Pratt. He stopped calling her Mother after he was welcomed into the fold. In his heart she would always be his birth giver, and he would always love her as dearly as he did when they were both still among the living. Though she was not a part of his life now, nor was he in hers. As a Reaper, you're cleaved from your old family and thrusted into a new one. Darla was his mother now, or mother in law if you wanted to get nit-picky. He was the talk of the house for a while.




Turns out you're the most fascinating thing on Earth- erm, in Heaven, when you're new. Makes sense, seeing as it takes a couple of decades at bare minimum per family member. That, and aside from the souls they reap, they've no one else to converse with. It also turned out that this lot was the most supportive group of individuals he'd ever met. If you had a talent or passion for something, this family made sure you had the materials needed for it. William loved reading poetry and other literary works. He was gifted an entire section in the ever expanding library on the second floor. Everyone had a shelf or two with name plates to indicate what volumes belonged to whom. Though to have a doorway to an adjoined room just off to the side, filled to the brim with more book space than he knew what to do with at the time, with his name on it? That was a gift, that was special. He wrote poetry, he was provided with many different types of paper and writing mediums. The ladies of the house even liked his poetry! When the schedules allowed it, they all sat around him as he recited his works, new and old. Elizabeth's favorite was the one he wrote about her the night he accepted her proposal. The men of the house would sit in a time or two as well, it made him feel about ten bloody feet tall it did. That never changed, even when twenty years later in 1900, he wasn't the young pup of the pack anymore. So to speak of course.




No, Drusilla's soulmate Daniel held that title as soon as she presented the fellow with a proud, 'look what I found'. The slim built, calm and collected ginger had prayer beads for a symbol and monks as a specialty. Uncle Luke was awfully chuffed about it. If he were still the insecure man he was before he met Elizabeth, he might be inclined to feel threatened and inadequate. The way his wife looked at him, made him feel like a God amongst mortals, a king amongst commoners. He was her world, and she was his. He could never feel out of place as long as he had her, luckily for him. It seemed that with the growing world population, the need for more Reapers became apparent to the Universe and Fate. 1920 was when good ol' Uncle Luke came strutting in like a peacock with his new daughter in tow. A buxom brunette named Faith, who's gaze wandered too much for anyone's liking. She got an opened cardboard box plastered on her hands, poor bird, and her specialty was the homeless. That was probably the worst marking so far out of everyone's, not that he'd risk his hide by saying so. Then like clockwork, in 1940 Aunt Cordelia arrived arm in arm with their second kid. A bubbly blonde called Harmony, she walked a fine line between being annoying and amusing. She got a briefcase and deals with lawyers. So needless to say, she isn't taking as many souls as the rest of them. From that point it was safe to say that every twenty years they were housing a new member under their roof.




The family was abuzz when 1960 rolled about. Ol' Batface was looking into some renovations for the place, as if four stories wasn't bloody well tall enough. They weren't crowded yet, but rooms were starting to feel a bit less spacious. Like for mealtime and the sort. Everyone else was placing wagers on whether the fresh meat was gonna be a soulmate or a child. They got their answer when his smug cousin Cool Girl strong armed some confident bloke, Robin as he later learned, into the building. His father in law owed him eleven pounds. Faith's soulmate got a hair bow slapped on his palms, ironically enough for a bald guy, and spends his work hours herding teenage birds. A bit of a red flag if you asked him, but the chap wouldn't be a Reaper to begin with if he harbored any ill intentions. By 1980 the palace was sitting at a whopping five stories, they had to have an elevator put in the joint. Much to the insistence of the girls, they also now sported a pool out back. You'd swear this was a hotel instead of someone's home. A bratty bint who went by Kennedy, Harm's new wife, was sure appreciative. Was glad they gave the place an upgrade before she got there. It figures Harmony would manage to reel in someone who's maybe even brattier than herself. Kennedy had a gun of all things seared into her flesh, and loves playing drill sergeant for all the soldiers she bottles. He hasn't the damnedest clue what's going on at that side of the family, but he's pretty sure whoever put that lot together was very stoned when they did it.




Now here's where things really started to go off the rails. All of a sudden, twenty years wasn't long enough, and Fate was way too trigger happy with it's bleeding red string. Everyone just about shit themselves when in 1990 Oz brought his and Dru's daughter Willow home. Her lit candle symbol and specialty being wiccans had her father beaming with pride. The shy redhead had the elders up in arms, assuming this meant more deaths were on the horizon. They feared the Mortal Plane was starting to get out of control. They just couldn't catch a break, could they? Not that they had any say in it, that wasn't where their abilities lied, preventing death. That was the one absolute, the one solid thing that was out of anyone's control. At least the Universe seemed to have more than a single functioning braincell, and knew the Grim family was about to be seriously understaffed. The year 2000 had Dru presenting their second kid, Alexander. That sarcastic twit came away from his ceremony with glowing hard hats and a yen for boxing up construction workers. 2010 came and they got a basketball court, along with Spike and Buffy's first daughter Willamina. When his wife came home that night with an adorable young lady skipping behind her, he felt his world shift. He was a father now, and he didn't hesitate in scooping up his girls to twirl them around the room due to his excitement.




Once he got a better look at her, he realized she looked just like him. Well, before he started bleaching his hair of course. As if Goldilocks had read his mind, she revealed that their daughter used to be a Pratt. A descendant of Mrs. Anne Pratt's brother, and an empath to top it all off. He was already so proud of her, and they hadn't even held her ceremony yet. He just about went arse over tit onto the flooring when she came away with a pen carved into her hands. Proclaiming that her purpose was to save the misunderstood good souls of bullied individuals, to save all the Williams in the world. He did cry then, sod all else, and if he looked like a Nancy boy then so be it. His Buffy held him and expressed the same sentiment. They were beyond excited by the time 2020 came to be. Spike was in California the night he met her, their second daughter, Dawn. A cheeky chit with mousy brown hair and light blue eyes. Who thought he'd gone completely carrot top and threatened to set him on fire if he didn't back off. He had to whip out the glowing hand tats for his words to hold any ground. "Then came decision time. So, what's it gonna be, Bit?", he asked her. She placed her hands on her hips, and with an eye roll she quipped, "I bet people only agree to this so they never have to hear that majorly long winded story ever again.". He let out a roaring laugh before dubbing her 'Bitty Buffy'. Her symbol was a single spiral, and her calling to guide the mentally insane. His branch of the family tree was complete, and William 'Spike' Grim was beyond bloody thankful to whomever was calling the shots out there. To whomever decided he deserved to have a happy ending. To deserve having someone as amazing as Buffy and their daughters, all love him as much as he loves them. That, was better than anything Heaven itself had to offer.





You must login (register) to review.