An Act of Death [William T. Spears x Reader]

09 Burst

They sat awake in the sitting room, staring silently at each other for the longest time before Ronald finally spoke to her. "I’m not very good at this."

“At what?” ______ asked. 

“Talking to women.” 

“Aren’t you the smoothest talker in the Dispatch Unit?”

“Flirting is completely different. That’s not what I meant.” Ronald said awkwardly. “I mean… I have no idea what I’m supposed to say. You’re…”

“I’m…?” She asked, unsure of where he was going with this.

“You're looking at me differently than you did before.” 

She was too tired to be surprised by this statement, but it certainly had an impact. Ronald was right-- she was acting different around him. Since hearing him laughing with Grell and Eric over some of their human cases, she’d been unable to look at him without feeling both a pang of guilt and a dull pain in her chest. She wanted to deny it all, but knew better. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologize,” He said, shaking his head. “I just want to know you’re okay. Did something happen?”

“No, it’s… I mean…” _____ wasn’t sure of what to say either. “I don’t know.”

He appeared bothered more than anything. “I know you have your secrets, but still...”

“What do you mean?"

“I’m not that thick,” He said, growing frustrated. “I know no normal officer gets attacked by demons or their photographs stolen. I know you aren’t really from the American branch, hell, you don’t even have a foreign accent. I also know…”

She looked up, trying to catch his eyes, but he cast them to the floor. 

“I know that William knows the real reasons why.” He said, coming out with it. “And I want to know, too.”

She felt weak. "If I told you, you would look at me differently."

"I don't care what it is." He said stubbornly; naively. "_______, we're... best mates, aren't we? All of us at the Unit are."

Maybe she wanted to believe him. Or perhaps she just wanted to prove him wrong. What a stupid thing of him to say, claiming that they were such good friends. Was the past year, the best year of her life, not a mere flicker in his incredibly long life? In any of her friends, no, co-workers' lives?

So she told him... 

... and watched his green eyes widen to shock and his words run dry. A great pain twisted in her chest, and she felt the last of her convictions glide down her face. Spent, exhausted, and emotionally-drained, she turned away from him. 

"Goodnight, Ronald."

* * *

William didn’t bother to knock when he reached the door to a certain doctor’s office; he shoved the door with such force that it slammed against the wall inside, causing picture frames to fall and the room to quiver. Inside, seated calmly at his desk, was Dr. Sheppard with an infuriating indifference. “I was wondering whether or not you’d show up. Especially after I learned that you stole my patient."

He wasn't interested in skirting around the topic. "You hired the demon to kill her."

"Wrong." Dr. Sheppard said, taking off his glasses and looking at William plainly. "I hired him to fight her to the death."

"Even knowing she hardly stood a chance?" William asked, clenching his jaw. It was taking every ounce of his willpower to not explode, and he knew to do so would only serve to satisfy the doctor.

"Frankly, it didn't matter who won." Sheppard returned his glasses to his face, smug. "Whether she is dead or wounded is the same to me. Either way, I can progress my research."

"I could kill you now." William said. While Sheppard had the advantage of being older and henceforth more experienced, he had a frail build and was no longer conditioned for combat the same way William was. However...

"The Chairman already suspects you are too emotionally invested with the Second. He believes your judgement is somehow... clouded.” Sheppard said. “Killing me might offer a moment’s pleasure, but are you prepared to prove him right?”

Reasons aside, killing a fellow shinigami was punishable by death. Perhaps he would be acquitted if he could prove that Sheppard was committing treason by negotiating with demons, but he had no such evidence. “She will never be alone in the living world again. I’ll see to it myself.”

“Assuming our realm is safe.” 

William’s pulse rushed. Impossible. He turned and strode out the door, knowing he was wasting time speaking to Sheppard. There were only two possible reasons why ______ wouldn’t be safe in their realm. Either Sheppard had connections among the higher-ups, or demons were in the shinigami world for the first time in centuries. 

Either way, he had to be sure that _____ was safe. What if she went out tonight? What if Knox left her alone to go to some stupid party? He couldn’t rely on Ronald if there was any weight behind Sheppard’s threat. He felt panicked, possessed by the one feeling he hated most: feeling out of control. 

He found Ronald standing outside his apartment building with a bitter expression. It was dark, the closest streetlight just barely illuminating the sidewalk. William approached, alarmed by the sight of him alone. "Where is ______?"

"She's inside." Knox said, gritting his teeth. He was hiding his face, looking down at the pavement. "How do you do it, Will?"

"Do what?” William asked.

To his shock, he saw Knox take off his glasses and wipe his eyes. Was he crying? "How can I not look at her differently now that I know?"

"She told you, then.”

    “She did.”


* * *

When ______ woke up, her head was throbbing and her eyes felt dry. She did as she always did-- she struggled with her tie, buttoned up her waistcoat, and fastened her death scythe to her belt. Except this morning, Ronald wasn’t passed out on the sofa or trying to shake off a hangover. He was gone, likely having gone to work uncharacteristically early. He was taking the initiative by avoiding her, which brought her a great sense of relief. That was, until she heard a knock on the door. She answered, astonished to see William. At her lack of a greeting, he sighed.

“Good morning to you too, ______.” He said, adjusting his glasses. 

“Sorry, I’m just surprised to see you here. Are you looking for Knox? I think he went in early today.” She said, crossing her arms in front of her as if to create a little distance between them. He was standing rather close to her in the doorway, and the events of the night previous were still fresh on her mind. Which William was she speaking to, today?

“I’m here for you. Have you eaten yet?” 

It was in this way that she found herself seated in the corner of the closest cafe, waiting for William to bring breakfast. This place was in many ways parallel to the cafes she knew as a human, save for the bespectacled staff and similar clientele. For a society that supposedly transcended the human world, they were remarkably similar in mannerisms and in taste. Even if the food was a little bitter.

William brought coffee, sitting wordlessly across from her and pushing some biscuits in her direction. She stared at the offering, and spoke without thinking. "Is this a date?"

"What gives you that impression?" He asked with an expression too serious for such an early hour.

“Well, you asked me for breakfast, walked me here, and now you’re paying.” She sipped her drink, flinching at the bitterness. He would order it black. “Not to mention your confession last night.”

"A confession?" He rose a brow. "I don't recall anything of that nature."

"You said you'd be 'devastated if something happened to me.'" She quoted with a smile; a genuine smile. "And I feel the same way. If you died, I'd be pretty upset.”

"I'll remember that." The side of his mouth twitched as if he were about to smile but he rested his fingertips on the bridge of his glasses to shield his face. It was somehow endearing. 

"Are you hiding a smile?" She asked, in awe of what she was witnessing. “Move your hand! I want to see!”

So he moved his hand, and she burst into laughter. He reciprocated with a look that mocked offense, but was closer to embarrassment. "Is my face amusing to you?"

"I'm sorry! It's just too shocking." ______ said, stifling a giggle. "But you've made me really happy."

These words were genuine. She had known him for just over a year now, and it was a goal for her to see this side of him. Getting to know him was like chipping away at a block of ice while looking at a distorted image of what was in the center, and today, it felt like the real William was becoming clearer behind the frost. She was overjoyed. 

She took one of the biscuits in front of her, taking a modest, polite bite. However, upon tasting it, she gasped, and stuffed the rest in her mouth. It was surprisingly fluffy and savory! An idea struck ______. Feeling brave, she tore a piece off of one of the biscuits and rose, leaning over the table. She held it out to him. "Say aah~"

He turned away, covering his face again. "No thank you."

She pouted. "Come on, this is embarrassing. Take it."

“______, I--”

“Come on, William-senpai! Say aah~” mocked a voice. It was Eric Slingby, doubled over and clapping his hand over his mouth to suppress his laughter as he approached the table. For William, this must’ve been the last straw. He opened a newspaper, successfully creating a barrier between himself, and her and Eric.

“Don’t worry love, I’ll take it.” Eric said, opening his mouth and leaning forward. 

With a pout, she fed him the rejected biscuit. “Good morning, Eric-senpai.”

“... so he gets a ‘good morning’.” William mumbled from behind the front page.

Eric pulled a chair, stealing another biscuit from her plate. “Sorry to crash your little date, but I actually needed to speak to you.”

William lowered the paper. There was still a slight flush in his face from earlier, but his expression had returned to its natural stoic state. “What is it?”

Eric lowered his voice even further. “Madam Westley has been murdered.”

‘Madam Westley?’ ______ asked herself. ‘Who is that?’

“Do we know any specifics?” William asked, grimacing. 

“Not much: the higher-ups are keeping it hushed.” Eric said. “All I know is that they suspect the perpetrator is a woman because of the method used.”

“Westley was known for being short-tempered.” William said.

“Even so,” Eric said. “Murder is pretty unheard of these days.”

‘How incredible.’ ______ thought. In the human world, it wasn’t unusual to hear in passing about dozens of murders and all sorts of heinous crimes without batting an eye. Yet in the meticulous, bureaucratic society that was the Shinigami world, crimes were taken hundreds of times more seriously. Is this what resulted when everyone was expected to live such long lives? Or was it primarily because of how difficult it was to actually kill a shinigami?

Eric looked at his watch and yawned. She remembered that having the graveyard shift, he must’ve just gotten off of work. “Just thought I’d keep you in the loop-- I’m off to bed. Enjoy your little date.”

William got to his feet as well, ignoring Eric's comment. Realizing it was time to go, ______ downed the last of her bitter coffee with a shudder and followed. When they hit the sidewalk, the Shinigami Dispatch Society building getting bigger in their sights, she felt brave enough to ask a question. “Who is Madam Westley?”'

“She was one of our highest officials in the English Branch.” William said, quickening his pace. “She had a strong sense of justice and wasn’t afraid to speak her mind. She might’ve angered the wrong person. No…”

He stopped so quickly that she nearly ran into him. 

“I know exactly who she angered.”

* * *

She was frustrated above all else. She felt as if she could ask William a dozen questions and never get a straight answer. Confidentiality or not, would it kill him to tell her what he was thinking, and especially if it might concern her? After their short conversation about Westley, he had taken off too quickly for her to follow. And so, she chose to return to her office and attempt to get some work done. Unfortunately, there was no field work in store for her because of her latest hospital visit. A full day of tedious paperwork in store for her, she picked up her pen. 

‘Cinematic record release form… case number 444090… no anomalies reported...’

But upon hearing a strange sound, she lifted her pen to listen.

It sounded like the sparklers she lit as a child during the holidays, or perhaps like the crackle of a hearth. However, there were no fires permitted in the SDS, let alone in her office. She turned her head, and felt her blood run cold. 

A strikingly familiar face.

“Good morning, Ms. ______.”

* * *

William was standing in the lobby when it happened-- a violent shatter of a sound and the deafening roar of the structure around him shifting. A great smoke enveloped the entire floor, the shinigami around him drawing their death scythes and going on alert. Alarms sounded in response to the smoke, and the tranquil workspace was thrown into chaos. There had been an explosion, and it had happened on their floor.

“What the hell was that?!” Ronald shouted from somewhere within the smoke.

“Knox! I’m over here!” He drew his own scythe and covered his mouth with his sleeve, seeing Ronald appear from the clouds in a similar state of disarray. It was difficult to speak without breathing in the fumes. “We’re going to go investigate. It came from one of the offices on the West side.”

Knox went pale. “The West side?”

William’s heart stopped upon realization. Those office spaces were mostly empty. In fact, only a handful of people occupied that side of the floor, one of them being--

He broke into a run, nearly colliding with some of his coworkers along the way. 

“Is everyone okay?!”

    “All personnel report to the ground floor!”

“We’re doing a head count!”

    “The stairs are this way, everyone!”

On this end of the hall, light was pouring in from the outside. And there were no windows. Wind was coming in and smoke was billowing out, and as it cleared, William found himself looking at what used to be the four walls of ______’s office. 

“William! Cough-- William, wait!” Ronald caught up, hacking into his sleeve. He batted away some of the smoke, squinting his eyes in the light. 

When the majority of the smoke cleared, there was only one recognizable object in the rubble- it glimmered despite the thick ash covering its sleek, chrome and red surface- a trainee sickle.

* * *

“Attention all personnel.” said the Chairman in the courtyard that evening, speaking with a voice that pierced through the whispers and confusion. “I know there are a lot of stories being passed around today, so I would like to reiterate and be certain that all of us are on the same page.”

William stood off to the side of the crowd, eyes closed. He felt as there were a black hole in his body, a perpetual panic setting in his chest. The truth was there, before his very eyes, yet it didn’t seem to quite register with him.

“This morning at 8:25 AM, there was an explosion on the West side of the third floor of our main building. It has been concluded by the initial investigation that the explosion occurred within the office of Dispatch Officer ______ ______, whose body is being recovered as we speak. Three other personnel on the floor are being treated in the hospital wing for non-fatal injuries.

“We might find great comfort in the fact that more had not fallen victim. However, I would like all personnel to remain on high alert. This may not be an isolated incident-- the cause of the explosion was a demon.”

If there were whispers before, the crowd was now erupting. After all, demons hadn’t been in the shinigami world for centuries; not since the last war. William looked over to his coworkers, seeing Knox wiping his glasses and Alan and Eric speaking amongst themselves. Even Grell, despite his usual inappropriate responses, was silent. Like William, Grell was old enough to remember how the last war between shinigami and demons ended.

“We must maintain our diligence. After each floor is cleared, all personnel are expected to return to their posts. The living will continue to die, and there are still souls to be collected as I speak. That is all.”

Yet, William wasn’t thinking ahead. He didn’t find himself concerned for the days and weeks to come. He wasn’t thinking about how he would have to conduct himself should a true war break out again. Instead, William found himself looking back, remembering the bright smile of an insufferable girl who was not afraid of death.

He should never have left her side.

* * *

She opened her eyes to complete darkness. If it weren’t for the throbbing of her forehead and a faint ringing, she might’ve thought she was dead. She called out for help, but was stunned to hear no such sound. She touched her throat and tried again and again, feeling the vibrations of her voice struggling to reach the air. No-- she was definitely making sounds. She just couldn’t hear it. 

A light shone and she recoiled, the sudden brightness blinding her. When her sight adjusted, she surely must have cried out. She found herself in a cell barred by a substance she had never seen before, the room just outside mimicking the hospital-- white walls, white countertops, and white floors. But the most horrifying object was the ghost of a man she once knew setting an oil lantern on the cold floor.

Dr. Sheppard knelt, cards in hand. He showed them to her.

‘Your eardrums have been ruptured as a result of the explosion.’

Flip.

‘I’m sorry for the sudden change of location. It was for the best.’

Flip.

‘I brought you here because I need your help with something.’

Flip.

‘And I wouldn’t bother calling out. No one will hear you.’

She withdrew to the corner of her cell, trying to create as much distance as she possibly could between her and her captor. For the first time in years, she found herself praying-- praying that this was merely a nightmare and that she would soon wake up in her office by an angry William telling her to get back to work.