Hi there! Thanks for stopping by to read this :) I just randomly got the idea lying in bed one night (which is when I'm at my most mushy, mentally), and thus, this was born x3 Please enjoy, and leave any critique in a review - I like knowing what I do wrong so I can improve as an author.

Also, the title is borrowed from the song "Call Me" by Shinedown :) If you haven't heard it, I highly recommend it, it's a great song.

Most people probably wouldn't have thought much of anything of the sounds of fighting and screaming coming from Whitechapel. It was considered a filthy, dirty place, crawling with whores and murderers. And, for all intensive purposes, they were correct. However, very few people would have thought that those loud noises were coming from a tortured woman, a young child, a demon, and a god of death. It would also be found ironic that the god of death was on his last legs, and probably would have died that night had another god of death not come to save him.

"Will~!" Grell called. "You came to save me!" he squealed, squirming on the hard pavement. "My hero!" He could feel that luscious demon, Sebastian, seethe with anger behind him, but for the moment, it was inconsequential.

Will leapt off the building and landed directly on Grell's skull. "Ow…" Grell whined, in more pain than he already was. In fact, the blow caused Grell's head to swim with agony. He could tell that William and Sebastian were talking, but their voices sounded far away, and his vision became rather blurry. He vaguely noticed when Will threw him over his shoulder and called out something flirtatious to Sebastian, but it hardly made sense in his head. And then, everything went black. How very ironic.

"Nn…What happened?" Grell drawled as his golden eyes began to flutter open. He looked around and noticed he was in Will's office, slumped in a chair while Will sat at his desk, as he always did, hunched over paperwork.

"You, Mr. Sutcliffe," Will scowled, "managed to get yourself into a world of trouble."

"Wait…what…?" Grell was exhausted, and his bruises began to just scream in pain.

Will sighed. "Everyone knows, Grell. We all know you were Jack the Ripper along with that woman, and you're going to be put on trial for it."

Grell stared blankly, then sunk back into his chair. "N-no…"

Will bit his lip. "Unfortunately, yes. Although you should have known what you were doing, Sutcliffe. You knew that this directly violates every rule the death gods have."

Grell whimpered, pushing himself upright in the chair. The room was dimly lit, only having one small lamp and a candle, both on Will's desk, to shine through the darkness. "So…What's going to happen to me, Will?"

Will looked at Grell, the glare on his glasses hiding his eyes. "Most likely, Grell…You could be put to death."

Silence. Sheer, utter silence. It cut through the already quiet room like a knife through hot butter. "I'm…I'm going to die?" Grell asked, quiet and subdued. Will couldn't remember the last time he ever heard Grell speak like that.

"It's…it's not a hundred percent but it's very likely…" Will responded, trying to file paperwork so he wouldn't have to look at Grell. Wouldn't have to look at his sullen features. Wouldn't have to look at the apparent fear in his eyes.

Grell let his head fall backwards, in shock. They were silent for several more moments, before Will heard small whimpers emit from Grell's throat. Carefully, almost fearfully (almost), Will looked up from his paper to see Grell…crying?

"What have I done?" he sobbed into his gloved hands. "Angelina…Oh, God, Angelina…I'm so sorry…This is all my fault…"

Angelina? Who was that? Will blinked in confusion. Then he remembered – Angelina Dulles. Grell's accomplice as Jack the Ripper. Although, from the sound of Grell's weeping, she must have been more than just an accomplice…

"Angelina, my God, forgive me…"

William bit his lip, looking back down at the paper, almost afraid of Grell's despair. Almost. And yet, a twinge poked at the inside of his abdomen. Jealousy? No, that was foolish. Why should he be jealous of this woman, this Angelina whom Grell seemed to deeply care for? It was none of his concern.

"I'm so sorry, Angelina," the red-headed death god whispered. "I thought I was saving you…"

Will looked up. "Saving her?" he asked, curious. He nearly slapped himself for saying something. This was ridiculous. He had better things to do than worry about Sutcliffe. But on the same token, the thought of Grell showing compassion for someone, caring for them, intrigued Will, and in an almost voyeuristic way, he desired to know more about the relationship between Sutcliffe and this woman, Angelina.

"I-I found her one night, outside Whitechapel," Grell stuttered, wiping some stray mucus from his nose. "She-she was covered in red, red hair, red clothes…blood…" Another sniffle. This tale must have been very hard for Grell to tell, and Will didn't intend on missing a word of it now. "She'd, she'd just killed a prostitute that was one of her patients – A-Angelina was a doctor, you know, and a very good one. But this woman, this whore," Grell spat, "she just so casually threw away what dear Angelina would have given anything to have."

"What was that?"

"A child. The woman had had an abortion. You see, Angelina was unable to have children. She'd been in a terrible carriage accident several years ago- it killed the child inside her womb and her husband…in order to save her, the doctors had to remove her uterus.

"And yet these women had the gall to ask Angelina to kill their children, calling them nuisances, bothers, troublesome – they had no idea how much pain Angelina went through every day at the thought that she couldn't have the gifts that they had been blessed with. Well, she just – she couldn't take it anymore, so she took it upon herself to punish those women." Grell sighed, folding his hands in his lap, ignoring the welts on his thighs that made the act painful.

"I found her after she'd done it the first time. She looked so distraught, so alone…and so frighteningly beautiful."

"But you said she was covered in blood," Will interjected.

"But you have to understand, William," Grell pleaded quietly. "That was what made her so very beautiful. She was daring, she was…she was…" He sighed, letting his head roll back again. "Angelina was everything."

All right, Will wasn't about to deny it anymore. He was jealous. The green-eyed monster was practically swallowing him whole – and the story was nowhere near finished, he could tell.

"Were you two…close?" Will asked, although it was more or less heard as, "Did you ever have sex?"

Grell snickered. "Oh, Will, I didn't know you were such a voyeur~" he teased. Normally the comment would have been most unwelcome, but William decided that he could let it slide, just this once. "But, to be honest, no. We weren't like that. I wasn't about to tell her, and her heart already belonged to another. He was dead, of course-"

"The one from the carriage accident?"

"No, actually. Angelina hated to admit it, but, she never loved that man. No, her one true love perished long before that. He was married to her sister, however, so, you can imagine the pain and torment that must have put her through…"

Will put down his pen and folded his hands together. This soft, compassionate side of Grell was new to him. And, he had to admit, it intrigued him fully…

"But why did you stay for so long with this woman?" Will asked. "And if you cared for her so deeply, then why…?" He wasn't going to finish that last statement. They both knew what became of Angelina, and that it was entirely Grell's fault.

Grell bit his lip. "Well…I-I actually was supposed to…collect Angelina's soul that night. She was supposed to die. I-I just…I couldn't do it…not while I found her still alive, covered in all that blood…"

"Her time was up, but you couldn't let her die?" Will asked, trying not to reveal the awe he held for Grell's actions.

"No!" Grell shouted, leaping out of the chair. He soon regretted it, though, when searing pain shot through his lower half.

"Stay there," Will said to him. "You're hurt." The concern in his voice was apparent, and caused Grell to blink once or twice. He tried not to concentrate on it though, and continued his story.

"Well…I just…I couldn't do it," Grell repeated. "So I thought, maybe if I stayed with her, I could protect her- keep another god of death from collecting her soul. And it worked…but I couldn't prevent the inevitable." His head dropped, long red locks dangling lazily by his face. "When I saw her, crying for her lost sister, even though she took the most precious thing in her life away…I couldn't do it. I couldn't keep letting her live a life of torment. So, I…I…" He couldn't say it, and quite frankly, Will didn't have the heart to blame him.

Grell sighed. "The whole thing is my fault. I should be put to death. After all I did to Angelina…it would only make sense." He grinned faintly. "Maybe I'd get to see her on the other side."

Will slammed his hand on the desk. "That's enough," he said roughly, causing Grell to be snapped out of his depressed stupor. "You're not going to die," Will added. "I'll see to that personally."

Grell's eyes welled with tears. "But…but, Will, I broke all the rules willingly…It's all my fault and I know it. I-I deserve to-"

"No, you do not!" Will responded, rising from his desk. "I can see this situation much differently – you loved a woman and you did what you did to protect her. That is most admirable, Sutcliffe, and while I agree that you should be punished for your actions, you should not be killed for them. And furthermore- eh?"

Grell whimpered softly, clutching his face in his hands. "W-Will…Th-thank you…" he sobbed, crying. "Uh, God, I'm such a woman, really," he scolded himself, wiping his eyes, only to have new tears replace them.

Will looked at the younger man with pity. "Here," he said, walking towards the chair and getting to his knees, opening his arms for him. Grell looked and blinked, then threw himself at Will, wrapping his arms around him and refusing to let go. It hurt, but it was nothing compared to the fact that Will was showing him so much kindness. Will felt himself flush with embarrassment for a moment, and then scolded himself. Sutcliffe could die if he didn't do anything about it, and he was concerned about how a simple hug looked? Ridiculous.

Will decided to try and comfort Grell, and embraced him gently, rubbing his back as if he were trying to stop a small child from crying. "There, easy now, Sutcliffe," he said in his usual stern voice. He wished he could have sounded more caring, but it was a force of habit for Will to distance himself from emotion. He thought they were useless, and besides, feelings couldn't change the facts about a situation.

…Well, if he was going to say something like that, he thought, then his entire argument for trying to save Grell from death was null and void. Maybe he was wrong after all.

"Uh...W-Will?" Grell choked out into Will's shoulder, embarrassed at the horrid mess he was leaving on Will's pressed and clean jacket.

"Yes, Sutcliffe?" Will asked, trying not to flush at the feel of Grell's skin against his. Oh God, what the hell was happening to him now?

Grell's tiny, feminine hands clung tighter to Will's jacket. "Th-thank you…F-for everything." He pulled his head away and clasped his lips around Will's in a gentle kiss, holding the sides of Will's face to keep him from squirming. But, to Will's surprise, Grell didn't try to do anything flirtatious outside of that. There was no flickering of tongue, no sly movements downward, nothing. But then again, didn't Will just listen to an entire story about Grell's capacity for love?

Maybe the world was big enough for all of Grell's love.

Returning the kiss with some uncertainty, Will decided that he'd have to try to learn that through experience.