Spirit doesn't transform back to human form at the end of the fight. Mostly this is because he is so dizzy that the addition of a human stomach will absolutely result in vomiting, and also because he is so tired he's not sure he could stand up on his own, and also because he can't Resonate with Stein in human form. This last isn't useful at the moment, hasn't been useful since the Kishin's madness crashed over them and shattered their Resonance and Stein dissolved into manic laughter, but Spirit can't help in human form and he could be useful as he is. Eventually.
It takes what feels like hours and is probably a few minutes. The world is spinning, even at the distance he has from it, and Spirit is relatively sure it's not the aftershocks of the Kishin's revival rolling through the building. There are whispers at the back of his head, although they decreased dramatically in volume when his Resonance with Stein broke, and even when he holds perfectly still he can see things moving just at the edges of his periphery. He tried to watch them for a while, but that just made him feel dizzier, and then he tried shutting his eyes but that just made the voices louder, so finally he curls in over himself as best he can in a form that doesn't obey his physical orders and lets his eyes go unfocused and tries to ignore the hallucinations while he waits for Stein to come back.
The focus helps. Having something else to pay attention to has always helped, and right now it is easier to worry about the meister, about the darkness that swallowed him up just before Spirit lost contact with him and the wounds that are slowly seeping blood into his clothes and the shrill edge of panic to that laugh. It has always been easy to worry about Stein. Even the seriousness of the situation loses the worst of its effect in the familiarity of the emotion, and it is easy to forget that Stein's injuries could very easily kill him when the resignation to taking care of his meister, again, is so strong in Spirit's head.
Spirit can't make himself reach out for Resonance just now. He caught the edge of what Stein is seeing for a moment, blood over his face and dripping sticky through his hair and warm as a touch on his skin, and Spirit's stomach tried to turn itself inside-out and he had to retreat, pull back into his own mind and try to forget what is pulling that laugh out of Stein's throat.
It's not like it really matters, he admits to himself. We've already failed.
The magnitude of the result still hasn't hit him. He keeps trying to explain it to himself, review the fallout from the Kishin's revival - the Madness that will spread across the world, the very real possibility of the apocalypse, the impossibility of fighting such an enemy - but he can't comprehend the range of the effects. Listing them out just makes him feel numb and cold; it's the trivial pieces that cut. The judgement he will face from everyone at the Academy for his failure as a Death Scythe. The possible punishments Lord Death could give him for his lapse. Maka's childhood sacrificed on the altar of a worldwide threat. The Madness's effect on Stein, the separation already as solid as a wall between them. It's been his job to protect Stein from himself since they were children, even before Spirit himself realized the responsibility. He's already failed once and now he's failing again, he can't fix this no matter how he wants to. It would be suicide of his self if not in physical fact to fall into whatever has a hold on Stein now. He wishes that option didn't sound as distantly appealing as it does.
Stein fades back in so slowly that Spirit isn't sure that he's returning for several minutes. He doesn't know how long things have been improving when he first thinks there might be a difference, and it takes long, breathless minutes of intent watching before he is sure he has seen an improvement and can confirm it even after taking his own desperation into account. Then Stein sighs in his head, and the sound is all Spirit's meister in spite of the exhaustion under it. He takes another inhalation off the cigarette in his mouth, and when he tosses it aside Spirit is shocked that it is only half-burnt. It feels like it has been hours.
"It looks like Lord Death and the Kishin were fighting it out up here." Stein says. He must be using Soul Perception; Spirit can't see anything. Even the tremors in their surroundings have faded, and at the distance they are from the surface the aboveground sounds fade to white noise. "But the Madness seems to be fading," and it has; the hints of movement are gone when Spirit looks for them, and his head has been free of everything but self-deprecation for some time. Stein's thoughts are clearer too, slow and heavy but recognizable again, tied down by the meister's own control.
Spirit reaches out for Resonance without speaking. Stein doesn't respond, narrows his eyes at whatever he is seeing that Spirit isn't. "He got away."
It is not that Spirit expected anything else, not really, but some part of him was hoping desperately that Lord Death would be able to take care of the danger, stop Asura before he fully broke free onto the world. He flinches back from the knowledge that all hope really is lost, but it doesn't stop the understanding from hitting him, pulling hot against his throat with the promise of tears, as if that will help anything now.
"I wish I could have seen it," Stein says, still lost in his own thoughts.
If only I'd stayed by Lord Death's side like I'm supposed to. The words sound dangerously close to a sob, catch on the knot in Spirit's throat no matter what he does. He forces back the tears, looks down at the cracked floor. Then we could have stopped him. Stein's face pulls his face back up; there is some comfort to be gained from the exhausted calm in the meister's expression, from the support of another person at his side. Things turned out horrible. And what's worse everyone'll blame me.
"There's no use crying over spilled milk, Spirit." Stein's voice hums through Spirit, gaining back some of the texture the fight sapped from it as he recenters himself. The reassurance is far more effective than it should be; Spirit shouldn't need someone else to tell him to calm down. What it should be has no effect on what it is, though. "Besides, this isn't over yet. If we can't figure out a way to make this right, we'll have a lot more problems than your ego."
Spirit is opening his mouth to retort that his ego has nothing to do with this when black arrows sweep around Stein, pinning his arms to his sides and locking him in place. There is a flood of surprise from the meister, more shock than fear, and both Stein and Spirit see Medusa's head raise over his shoulder a moment before she sinks her teeth into the meister's shoulder. Stein yells in surprise and pain, tries to pull free but can't get any traction against the constricting arrows around him.
Stein! It's not helpful, Spirit realizes as he shouts, but his panic doesn't allow for anything other than some sort of expression of his concern, and with Stein's arm locked against his sides there is nothing he can do to help. He realizes he could transform, offer physical support if not that of a weapon, just as Stein forces his left arm free and up to seize Medusa's hair. "Damn!" Stein hisses, more angry than upset. He drags her off - Spirit can feel the sympathetic pain in his shoulder before her hold gives way - and throws her back to the ground.
Medusa twists her head up to look at them and laughs, and Spirit is too repulsed to be horrified, which is a benefit at the moment. "I love you, you know," she says, and there is nothing but shock from both his own head and Stein's. "A man after my own heart."
Spirit has never before found the impact of blade against flesh satisfying. He does now, pinning Medusa to the floor like an insect so she won't move again, even if she refuses to die. Stein is holding him one-handed, his free hand holding the bite wound on his shoulder closed to stem the worst of the bleeding.
"Don't be stupid." His words are laced with fury. "At your core, Medusa, you're just like me. You can't possibly understand a concept like love." The wave of self-loathing that boils through him is so strong it overwhelms Spirit's own rejection of the idea that his meister is anything like the witch in front of them.
Medusa just laughs, even as defeated as she is. What is left of her torso forms into arrows before dissolving. There isn't a body, not even a soul left behind.
What kind of woman… Spirit starts before he realizes that he has no idea how to finish the sentence. The current situation is inadequate but comes to mind easily, and he finishes ...would be willing to extinguish her own soul? It's not enough, it doesn't touch on Crona or the black blood or Stein, but there aren't enough words to handle the others and the momentary burst of adrenaline from Medusa's final attack is taking the last of Spirit's strength with it too.
Stein opens his mouth as if he's going to answer. Then his hold on the scythe-handle slips for the first time all night, his weight comes fully over his own legs, and he crumples like all his injuries are hitting him at once. Spirit is back in human form before he means to be, surprised to find he has hands instead of a blade even as he is reaching too late to catch Stein from the floor.
"Stein!" The old barrier on physical contact is forgotten. Spirit is touching every part of Stein he can reach, hair, face, shoulder, waist, trying to heal a multitude of injuries via sheer desperation and fluttering hands. Stein's shoulder is bleeding the most at present, but it's not the worst wound. Spirit's total lack of first aid ability quails away from even properly looking at the torn cloth over the meister's stomach. It's absurd that Stein has stayed conscious as long as he has, really, but there's no way Spirit can get him back up to the infirmary alone. If there was just something he could do to fix this -
Stein's hand comes up to catch his, stalls the frantic movement. His skin is very cold, far colder even than what Spirit has become accustomed to from his meister, but his grip is firm enough to lock Spirit's hand in place. Spirit's fingers close around Stein's without him ever asking them to, and then he's not sure if Stein is holding him still or if he is clinging to Stein for support.
"Calm down, Spirit." Stein sounds awful, far worse than he did with Medusa in earshot, but there's a sweep of humor under the rough sound too. Spirit is crying, can't stop even when he smiles at that sound, and he thinks it's from relief that Stein is still able to talk but he can't tell anymore. There's too much all together, guilt and hurt and shame and relief and worry and panic, and the adrenaline is gone, leaving a sucking void of exhaustion where it was holding him together.
"You're hurt," Spirit starts.
"I know." Very, very flat. Spirit starts to laugh. It turns hysterical almost immediately.
"Don't snivel," Stein says, "You're a grown man," but he is smiling, and it's affectionate and it is strange to see that on his face but something in Spirit responds to it, trickles warmth through his blood and determination into his brain.
"Okay." He nods, several times before he can control the movement, brings his free hand up to drag his sleeve over his eyes. "Yeah. Okay."
Stein reaches out towards Spirit's shoulder. When his hand closes over it Spirit's mind briefly contemplates the dozens of things that Stein could be about to do and how utterly impossible every one is. He still folds under the pressure when Stein pulls, curving in towards the meister although he has no idea what Stein is thinking.
Stein stops. "I need to sit up," he offers, and Spirit's whole face goes blisteringly hot.
"Oh. Uh. Yeah." He straightens, turns his head away while Stein pulls himself up. He really does need help, judging from the weight he is putting on his hold, and when Spirit's blush has faded enough to look back the meister is grimacing in pain.
"Fuck, Stein." The words lack any energy; they fall flat and tired. "We're never going to make it out of here at this rate."
"Shut up, Spirit." That lacks bite as well. Stein sighs, takes a deep breath, shuts his eyes. He is still holding Spirit's right hand in his left, his own right leaning heavily on his weapon's shoulder. This close Spirit can feel his exhale against his collar, can see the lines of pain all across his face, can see the evidence of habitual insomnia pressed blue and purple under Stein's eyes. It is terrifying to see his meister so human, even as the realization that there is no one here but you fires him with determination.
"Okay." Stein lets Spirit's hand go, shifts his grip to Spirit's opposite shoulder. His eyes are still shut. "I need you to pull me up."
"Okay." Spirit shifts to get his feet under himself, pushes hard. Stein weighs a lot more than he looks like he should, or Spirit is more tired than he thought, or both. It takes a painful minute to get them both upright, with Stein dragging Spirit down by his shoulders while Spirit tries to push Stein up by his elbows. They do make it after some struggle, although Stein is hissing in pain by the time they are upright and Spirit is shaking so badly he thinks they might go right back over in a second.
Stein takes a minute to rest his forehead against Spirit's shoulder, and Spirit determines that he is only going to topple over if he actually passes out. If will can keep Stein upright it can keep him on his feet too.
"Transform." Stein's voice is muffled against Spirit's shirt but the word is clear enough.
"What? No, you'll fall."
Stein shakes his head without lifting it. "You have to transform so we can Resonate or I won't make it to the infirmary." For the weight of the admission he sounds perfectly calm, like they are discussing the weather rather than the relatively mortality of his injuries.
Spirit tries to speak but his throat is closed up. His hands are against Stein's shoulders in something that would be a hug if he didn't have his fingers clenched into fists in the bloodstained fabric. "You'll be fine. I'll help you get there."
"Spirit." Stein lifts his head, opens his eyes. They are green and shadowed behind the pain and Spirit would look away if they weren't so bright. "Transform."
It's in his meister voice, but it doesn't matter. Spirit doesn't have any arguments left anyway. He transforms.
Stein does manage to stay upright for the moment he lacks support, although Spirit has no idea how he does so, but the moment his hand touches the handle he is saying "Resonate," without even waiting to steady his grip. Spirit is already reaching for it, flinging himself towards Stein's wavelength as fast as he can complete his transformation in spite of the lurking darkness that is still obscuring it.
It is colder than usual, colder and louder with the resurgence of some of those half-heard voices, but it's recognizably Stein's wavelength again and that takes all the terror off. Spirit realizes a moment before they Resonate that he's about to feel Stein's pain first-hand, but he doesn't have time to do anything but tense in anticipation before their awarenesses slide together.
It's agonizing to be upright. Some animal part of him is screaming to collapse, to stop STOP the pain however possible, and Spirit can't remember who he is or where he is or anything other than the pain, it would be better to die than to feel this, but there's more to him than him now, and the additional part is very good at distancing itself from its own body. It latches onto his memories, shoves him backwards into the past, rifles through his mind until it finds the details it needs. The Soul stitches don't hurt, even as they form, and they fend off the very worst of the mortal pain. Spirit leans against the scythe in his hands, all his weight against the handle for a minute while he gasps for air, and then he is the scythe instead, both and neither, and Stein is pleased, it has to be Stein because Spirit is definitely not.
I don't understand, he offers to himself as they begin moving. How are you upright?
Stein, in his body for the moment, chokes a laugh that is almost amused, slips into the weapon form before there is an answer. You don't have to understand something to experience it.
That doesn't make any sense.
Don't worry about it. Affection, warm and comforting even over the burn of pain and the chitter of unfamiliar voices, and Spirit can't identify the source but right now, for now, it doesn't matter which of them it is.