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Grim Reaper's War

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The overtime was awful, to say the least. He had never been this short-handed before, not even during the fire in 1889. It made him wonder how the reapers that were around during the Black Plague were able to cope.

Then again, they weren't short-handed and trying to clean up the mess left behind from an all-out war between heaven and hell. Honestly, the frivolous nature of those angels and demons was more of a pain than anything else.

He looked down at the note on his desk with disgust. Some girl from General Affairs had left it there for him. Apparently not only was he short-handed and trying to clean up their mess, but now they also wanted him to choose sides. Did heaven not realize how much work they were making him do without having to turn his subordinates into a make-shift demon killing army? No matter how much he would enjoy bringing an end to those pests, he simply did not have the resources to do so at the moment.

His train of thought was interrupted entirely as a certain red-headed reaper swept into the room. He didn't even need to actually look up from the pile of paperwork on his desk to know exactly who it was, or that she had swept into the room. It was the only person who would come in without knocking, much less without express verbal permission to enter.

“What do you want Sutcliff?”

Grell put her hands on his desk, leaning forward so that her long hair covered most of his papers. “I want you to explain to me exactly how it is that I can reap one human's soul three.”

William finally looked up. “Winchesters?”


He sighed and shook his head. “Someone obviously likes them.”

“Well it's annoying.”

“It's not like I don't agree with you.” He glared at her. “This is something you should take up with management, Sutcliff, not me. I'm simply following orders.”

“Well, send someone else to reap them for a change! We're practically on a first name basis at this point.”

Grell stormed out, once again leaving Will with his thoughts.


The water cooler gossip had become more grim than anything else in the past year. Everyone was too busy and too tired to have anything interesting to talk about.

“Did you hear? Death himself is apparently getting involved down there.”


“Lucifer's got him tied to a leash right now.”

“Anyone else have, like, thirty names in Chicago show up on their to-die list for next week?”

Chicago? Why do we keep getting sent to America, we're supposed to be the London division!”

“They're short-handed. Something big's about to happen.”

Grell just sighed. She wanted to go home. Her shift was supposed to end hours ago. In fact, this was supposed to be her day off. She hated this stupid war.

Ronald looked over to her. “Grell, don't you have another soul to reap right now?”

“Oh, what even is the point?” She sighed dramatically. “It's one of the Winchesters again.”

He nodded knowingly. “Which one?”

“The older one. Dean. I don't see why they keep putting their names down on the to-die list, it's fairly obvious that their continued existence is going to make some sort of change to the world.”

“Yeah, but has it ever been a positive one? They're the ones who made us so busy in the first place.”

Grell shook her head. “I do hope management knows what they're doing, letting them live like this.”

Everyone was tired. Everyone wanted to go home. They all knew that this whole war thing was just heaven throwing a temper tantrum. For the first time, they really understood how the terms “rats” and “lice” came about among them to refer to demons and angels.

This whole thing was just irritating.