Soul is really starting to wish that he actually had bothered to listen to Maka all of those times she talked about sensing souls. He might have learned something that would help him now. But of course he didn't, so now he just has to improvise a way to get them out of this mess. He shuts his eyes, and does his best to keep focused on the faint trace of Maka's soul that he's been able to sense.

"Are you there, Soul?" Maka calls again, and Soul grins to himself. He wishes that there was a way he could tell her to keep talking, because it makes it much easier to concentrate on finding her. He feels a strange sensation, almost like a tugging, on his soul, and his eyes snap open. He's no longer standing on the bridge where they were fighting. The air is warm, instead of frigid. He glances around. He's in—their apartment?

It certainly looks like he's back home. But the more he looks around at the familiar walls and furniture, the more little changes he notices. There's more pictures on the walls, and there's no way Maka would ever let the room get this messy, or let anyone leave all that crap on the floor. So where is he? Their apartment, but not at the same time?

"Maka, where are you? What is this place?" Soul asks, before whipping around at the sound of another voice.

"So you must be Soul," drawls a strange little man. No, not a man. A little red demon?

Upon spotting Soul, the demon smirks. "So you must be Maka's partner. You know, your girl has gotten herself into quite a bit of trouble this time."

Soul growls. "What did you do to Maka? Where is she?"

The demon simply laughs. "What did I do to her? Nothing. She did this to herself. The minute she let herself get gutted like a fish in that cathedral, she let me in." Soul growls again, and the demon seems to sense his growing impatience. "And your girl's not very far off. Actually, she's right here with us. You can sense her soul, can't you? It's fascinating, the bond between a weapon and her meister. Truly an intriguing relationship, full of—"

Tired of this nonsense, Soul cuts him off. "Where is Maka? If she's here with us, then why can't I see her?" It's true that he can sense Maka's soul, but that doesn't seem to be doing him much good at the moment.

"My, my, so impertinent!" the demon teases, seeming almost amused by Soul's rage. "You're a clever boy, so I'm sure that you can figure this one out on your own."

If the demon isn't going to help him, then Soul isn't going to bother to listen to him. Soul paces over to what seems to be the entrance to the apartment. It looks just like their front door at home, except—there's a thick, black ooze trickling through the crack at the bottom. Black. Black blood? Soul rips open the door. If the black blood was what got them into this whole mess, then it probably made sense to follow it to find Maka.

Upon opening the door, the black blood doesn't come flooding into the room like he'd feared it would. Instead, he sees a vast lake of the vile substance; the surface glimmers in iridescent colors like an oil spill. Soul crouches down and carefully pokes the surface. He's surprised to feel a solid surface beneath his hand, like ice over a frozen lake.

Or maybe not like ice. It's stickier, like tar, and there seems to be a little bit of a give to it, similar to the softer ground beneath a mud puddle. Or quicksand. He can sense Maka's soul better now, and her calls for help are louder than ever. Soul braces himself, takes a deep breath, and takes a step out onto the black lake. It holds his weight, only sinking a little, and he keeps going, following the tiny beacon of light that is Maka's soul.

He's only taken about fifteen steps out when he comes to an abrupt halt. Maka's presence is so strong here it's as if she's standing right next to him, and her calls sound like they are coming from right underneath him. He stands still for a moment, trying to think of what to do. A sudden idea comes to him, and he crouches down again, shoving one of his arms beneath the surface as far as it will go. He feels nothing but the sticky black blood until, when he's reached down as far as he can go—he feels his hand brush smooth skin, just for an instant.

Time for a new approach. He withdraws his arm a little, shifting to a better angle, and reaches out again, stretching as far as he can. This time, when his fingers brush against skin, he grabs on as tightly as he can, and pulls. It's difficult with the viscous blood hindering him, but slowly, he's able to start pulling Maka to the surface. When she gets closer, he uses both arms, straining against the pull. There's a sharp jolt, and suddenly Maka bursts free, gasping for air.

Soul is so relieved that all he can do is stare at her for a moment. Maka stares back, her wide green eyes never leaving his face. "Maka," he begins. There's a million things he wants to tell her, needs to tell her, but he can't seem to put any of them into words right now.

"Soul," she murmurs, her voice barely audible. "Thank you." To his horror, there are tears welling up in her eyes.

"Hey, hey, it's okay," he frantically tries to soothe. "Why don't we head back now?" He gestures for the door to the apartment that he came through. He has so many questions about where they are, what happened, but none of that really matters as long as Maka is safe. She grabs his hand and they make their way back together as partners.

As soon as they reach the door, Soul feels a pull at his soul again, and suddenly he's back in London, still in scythe form. He shifts his focus to Maka as her grip loosens, and he's relieved to see that her eyes are sharp and focused again, no longer dazed and vacant. She lowers her hands, and Soul takes the cue to shift back into human form—just in time to catch Maka as she falls to her knees. "Are you okay?" he practically shouts. She's had way too many close calls lately.

"Just a little tired," Maka reassures him, before practically doubling over with a coughing fit. Soul lets out a startled yelp as she coughs and coughs, before spitting up a large quantity of black liquid into the snow. She wipes her mouth on her glove, leaving a black smudge on the white cloth.

"Black blood?" they ask, in perfect unison, frowning. Maka dissolves into hoarse giggles at their accidental harmony, and Soul laughs too. It's been a long day, and they're both a little worse for the wear, but they'll be fine.

"Tsubaki! Blackstar!" Maka immediately calls out to their friends upon spotting them. "What happened to the wolf-man?"

"Maka! You're okay!" Tsubaki says, sounding relieved. "The wolf-man escaped. I tried to stop him, but I couldn't do much on my own, and Blackstar's still too drained to fight."

"That's alright," Maka reassures her. "You're not hurt, are you?" When Tsubaki shakes her head, Maka breathes a sigh of relief. Movement on the edge of the bridge catches her attention.

"It looks like Dr. Stein and Death Scythe are here," Tsubaki announces. It's the only warning Maka gets before she's tackle-hugged by her father.


That night, after they've been cleaned up and given their reports of the incident to Lord Death, both of them immediately collapse into bed, exhausted by the events of the day. Maka sleeps without dreams for the first time since the incident in the church. Soul, however, dreams of a strange dark room with a grand piano, a scratchy record player, and a little demon for company.


And that's a wrap. Thank you for reading! Please leave a review if you liked it.

This is the ending I had planned from the beginning. I'm glad that I took some time to go back and edit and repost this. I think it turned out pretty well with the adjustments.