A/N: This was yet another tumblr prompt request. It turned into—a dialogue monster, basically. Steals some of the better concepts from Twilight, though calling it a Twilight AU is a huuuuuge stretch (I don't even like Twilight, but there are a few gold nuggets for world building).

Is what it is. Starcrossed lyrics belong to Ash.

Girl we're star-crossed and can't escape
We're condemned and can only wait
At this time now it's far too late
The poison's in our veins
It's true
You know that I'd die for you

"I know what you are, you know," she said with a somewhat predatory smile, though her tone was so casual that she might have been commenting on the weather. Soul was walking her home from school as he often walked her home from school. Today they had decided to cut through the thick woods that were everywhere in their little corner of the Sierra Nevada mountains.

Maka had somehow gotten it in her head to climb a tree and was currently looking down at him. She had been strange over the past few months, more reckless. For a few weeks she had missed school when she never missed school—had been more distant when she returned—but now they were closer than ever. She was touching him more lately, subtle things like a hand on a shoulder or forearm, and it was becoming harder and harder to keep a lid on his feelings. They had been best friends for three years, ever since she moved here from Death City to live with her Dad at the end of middle school; a year ago, he'd realized that he was in love with her, not that it mattered—she'd made it crystal clear that she had no interest in a relationship with anyone, now or ever. She had seen her parents marriage go down too spectacularly in flames for that.

He blinked up at her, at the oddness of her words, looked up into those too green eyes filled with mischief and something else he couldn't quite place, but took the bait for how could he not?

"And what's that?" He returned casually.

"My best friend," she said matter of factly. Before he could get around to calling her a nerd, she continued, "but you're also a half-blood."

He stared at her, long and hard, his jaw working noiselessly.

"What now?" He finally managed.

Maka hopped down from the branch she was perched on and landed in a perfect crouch, uncannily nimble. She walked over and stood not a foot in front of him, hand cocked on a hip and head tilted thoughtfully, a pigtail brushing her shoulder tin he most distracting way. He loved and hated when it was warm enough for her to wear tanktops.

"You're a half-blood. Half human, half vampire. Surely you didn't think you could hide it from me forever?"

Soul didn't say anything, didn't know what to say. He heard her words, but they made no sense. Was his friend ill, insanity clawing at her, or was he? He had always struggled with his inner demons and he might wonder if this were a dream if not for her strong scent, that smell that always drew him in, made him want to taste her skin and her blood.

Oh hell.

Had she caught on to his little fetish and was teasing him? He'd never toldanyone, never acted on it, so how could she know?

"You could have told me, you know," she said into the silence he had yet to fill, her brow lightly furrowed. "I wouldn't have cared."

He didn't understand. This clearly wasn't a joke—wasn't just her teasing—and his own brow furrowed in concern because it made no sense.

Soul shook his head. "What?"

She responded with a sigh. "I thought you would at least not play dumb with me of all people, Soul. I can smell it on you, within you. You don't act on it, I can smell that, too, but it is there. Red eyes, white hair, and thoseteeth are a dead giveaway for anyone who knows better anyway."

"You can smell it?" He scoffed.

She sighed again, began to pace in front of him for a moment before turning to face him. "Really, Soul, we won't get anywhere if you persist with this lie. I haven't even gotten to what we need to talk about, and how can I ever if you won't even acknowledge what you are?" Her green eyes were searching his, to find what he could not say.

Perhaps she found it because she shook her head. "You really don't know, do you? We were wondering how it could just be you ,but… I guess Stein was right. I'm not sure if this makes things easier or more difficult, but we'll figure it out, I suppose." She had been babbling to herself, mostly, before heaving another sigh.

"Stein was right? You mean you've been talking to the creepy science teacher about me?!" He felt a wave of fury course through him but tamped it down. What the hell was going on here?

"No, Soul, more like I overheard his conversation with my Papa. Look, that doesn't matter. What matters is that you're a half-blood, and—well, maybe we should start there."

Suddenly, she sat down on the soft mix of moss and grass within the small clearing and patted the ground next to her. He stayed standing, looking down at her in irritation, which earned an eyeroll from her. "Don't be a jerk, Soul. This isn't easy and I'm tired of standing here like a couple of idiots."

"So we sit here like a couple of idiots? Look, I'm going home—I'm done with wh—"

He heard her growl then, a nearly inhuman sound, and looked back down at her I surprise.

"Just sit, alright?" Her voice was angry but her eyes were pleading. "I don't want to have this conversation at home in case my Papa comes home earlier than he's supposed to, and we need to have it. Please?"

"Yeah, whatever," he sat down heavily beside her. "But I'm thinking I'm gonna need to have a few of whatever you're on to make sense of it."

Maka laughed at this and it was so normal that he felt even more strange, uncomfortable with this entire situation, uncomfortable with her for the first time he could remember.

"So? You got somethin' to say, say it," he snapped, irritated when she failed to speak.

"Well," she seemed to think for a minute. "You like your meat rare, raw even."

"Yeah, so? Lots of people do."

"But most people don't feel a hunger they don't understand sated by it. Most people also don't crave the taste of blood."

"I…" He blinked at her because how could she know?

"And, most people don't have red eyes and a mouth full of fangs. They aren't as strong as you or as fast, though I'm not sure you're even aware of your limits there." She looked at him, and he looked back, though what she hoped to see was beyond him. "And most people definitely don't smell like an unholy mix of vampire and human."

The boy scoffed. "The smell thing again?" He rolled his eyes. "Please, Maka. People don't smell other people and know that they're—I don't even know what. This is ridiculous. I'm leav—" He felt her hand on his thigh before he could move and her eyes seemed almost to glow as she fixed his gaze with her own.

"People don't. Werewolves do," she said softly.

He looked at her for a long moment, blinked, then burst out laughing. Maka glared at him but said nothing as his loud guffaws filled the clearing. He let himself fall to his back and just laughed, his eyes squeezed shut and leaking tears.

"Oh fuck—Maka—you really—had me going—for a minute—" He wheezed out before laughter overtook him once more, shaking his entire being.

Still, Maka said nothing.

Finally, his mirth spent, several minutes later, Soul sat up, wiping tears from his eyes.

"Come on, Maka," he began, finally looking to her. "Don't be like that—holy fuck!"

He shot up and scrambled back because Maka was gone, but standing just where she had been sitting shortly before was a tawny wolf, oversized, with bright, intelligent green eyes. He raised his hands defensively, his gaze frantically sweeping the clearing for his friend. His heart dropped into his stomach as he realized she was gone. Fuck had this wolf—fuck—

Rage and grief slammed into him forcefully, irrationally, as he eyed the wolf, meaning to do—he knew not what. Something. Anything. But before he could act, the thing before him began to shift, to change, and in an instant Maka stood before him, stark naked.

He practically shrieked as he averted his eyes.

A moment and some shuffling of fabric later, he heard an exasperated "I told you. You can look now, I'm decent."

He ventured his gaze back her way and there she stood in the tanktop and short skirt she had worn to school that day. He took a shaky breath and pinched himself because things had jumped from weird to fucking insane at the speed of what the fuck ,and he had no idea what to make of any of it.

Maka sat back down, patted the ground next to her, and he reluctantly complied. This was—there were no words. He just stared at her because what else could he do?

"Do you believe me now?" Her voice was soft yet firm.

"I believe I might be losing my damned mind," he grumbled. "But yeah, pretty hard to deny you just turned into a giant dog."

"Wolf," she rolled her eyes.

"Yeah, whatever."

"Good," she grinned at him in something like triumph and he wanted to scream at her because it felt like his life, no, his entire world was crashing down around his ears.

"And do you believe that you're a half-blood?" The intensity of her gaze was unnerving.

"Not really?" Because this was all absurd and he just wanted to go home and forget that his best friend, who he also had a hopeless case of the hots for, had just turned into an oversized mutt.

"Well, you are," she said, blowing her bangs out of her eyes as she finished. "And the sooner you accept that, the sooner we can talk about—other things."

"Other things?" His eyebrows shot up.

"Well, yeah," she frowned and he could almost feel the nervousness radiating off of her suddenly, her brow wrinkling unhappily. "I didn't bring this up just to—I don't know—scare you. I have a reason. I'm not a jerk, Soul. You could have lived happily never knowing what I am, except you can't because they aren't going to let that happen, plus—" she shook her head, sighed.

"Plus? Who isn't going to let what happen?" His head was spinning. He rubbed his temples and sighed. "None of this makes any sense…"

"It will. I promise, okay?" Maka smiled at him, a half smile, and reached out to put a comforting hand on his forearm. "Just, I need you to understand that you are a half-blood. Stein thinks it's probably an ancestor somewhere far back in your line, that you were just the one it resurfaced in. But—look, that's not important. What's important is that you accept that it's what you are so I can explain the rest. Think you can do that?"

"Alright, whatever, I'm a vampire—I want to suck your blood or whatever the fuck, great." She moved her hand away at the outburst and he missed the contact immediately. Soul tried not to think about the fact that he hadwondered how her blood might taste, had wanted to, maybe, kiss her and nip at her lip and enjoy the flavor. Forcing himself to hold onto the anger over the sudden surge of pure lust, he glared at her. "Now can we get to the point here? It's going to get dark soon and I'd rather not deal with your stupid Dad if I—"

"My Papa won't be home until late, and anyway, we've got far bigger problems."

"Like?"

Another sigh, deep and heavy.

"This… is going to be hard to explain." She bit her lip, looked up at him through her bangs, and the motion was just distracting enough that he put his hands back in his lap with a heavy drop and nodded.

"Alright," his friend nodded back. "So. I'm a werewolf. It happened—well, remember when I missed school a few months ago?" Another nod. "Well, that's when I was changing. Before that, I thought werewolves were a stupid myth, like the boogie man and the Loch Ness monster and—well, vampires, actually," she glanced at him meaningfully, laughing mirthlessly.

"How… did it happen?"

"It's in my blood," she shrugged. "Papa's a werewolf, too. I just never knew it. Our kind, we stay well hidden, for obvious reasons. So, once I got old enough it just—happened."

"I—" What could he say to that? "Alright, so you're a werewolf. So what? I guess if you aren't going to eat people, it's not really a big deal." Soul couldn't believe he was saying that, but it was true. "You—aren't eating people, are you?"

She laughed, but again, there was no real humor there. "No, Soul, we don't eat people," she sobered quickly and met his eyes. "But we do hunt vampires."

He frowned. "So is this, what, a warning? That you'll be hunting me? That we can't be friends?" He felt anger bubble up at the thought, and hurt.

She smiled softly, inexplicably, touched his arm again as she shook her head. "No, Soul. We only hunt vampires who feed on humans, which is most of them, but you don't. You didn't even know what you are-and I'm still not convinced you believe me about it. It's, the opposite really, with you. I mean—the others don't want you around, they want to try to drive you away, but me—you're my best friend, and for me, I want you here. I'd never hurt you. I couldn't," she finished, her gaze suddenly moving down to her hands which she had returned to her lap, her fingers lacing and unlacing nervously.

"So what is this about then, Maka, because I'm—"

"I've imprinted on you," she cut him off, cut off his anger before it could mount.

"What…?" Imprinted?" The word had no meaning for him, and he looked to her to give it one.

"It's—it's complicated," she heaved another heavy sigh, her eyes still on her hands. "But werewolves we—we tend to bond with one person, and only one person, for life. Like a—a—lifemate, I guess. It's called imprinting, and I imprinted on you as soon as I returned to school, the first time I saw you after—after it happened. It was—really difficult. The imprint works differently depending on time of life, but when you're our age it—well, it doesn't matter, I've gotten better at keeping it under wraps."

"Is that why you avoided me?"

She nodded, met his eyes for a moment. "I had to, I'm sorry. It was—best."

"What does this mean—I mean, for you to—whatever—on me?" This was so strange, his head was spinning again and he resisted the urge to rub his hand down his face.

"A few things." Her voice was quiet, cautious, as if trying to feel out the words. "It means I want," she paused, swallowed, "to mate with you. To protect you. To spend my life with you. But," she was looking at him with an eery intensity though she was also flushed red. Her words slithered through him, past him, because she couldn't mean— "you get a choice, Soul," her voice was so quiet he strained to hear. "You don't have to—to want this, too. You can leave. You can leave and never have to deal with any of this."

"L..leave? I don't want to—Maka, I'm not going to leave. I—fuck, Maka, this isn't—" He couldn't process this. It made no sense. She—what—wanted to be with him? This was something he had wished for, hoped for, for the past year—and Maka thought he'd want to leave? Yet—yet—it bothered him, nagged at him, because… "You," he took a deep breath. "This imprint—did you choose me to…" he shook his head, not knowing how to even say what he meant.

"You don't choose it," she looked at him, still red, though her voice was strange and distant. "It just--is. It's more like—a compulsion, I guess. But I—"

Soul shook his head violently. This was—fuck. "So this isn't something you want. It's—I'm just the first thing you saw and—" It hurt, the idea that she would only want to be with him because of some whacked out mix of hormones or who even knew what —because what the fuck were werewolves anyway? Yet he couldn't help the thrill of the idea that she might want him.

"No," Maka whispered, her eyes wide. "It's not—like that. No one knows, exactly, what makes us imprint but," she looked down at her hands again, the fingers working once more, "I—if I could have chosen, if I had a choice of who to imprint on," she looked up, her eyes alight. "It would have been you. It's always been you."

"So you wanted this—before?" He swallowed thickly at the idea, at the sudden surge of possessiveness, of want that threatened to overwhelm him.

"Y-yes," she said even as she shook her head, raised her hand in protest . "I mean, not like this but I—I mean, I had feelings I wanted—before—to be, uh…" She bit her lip nervously. Looked down again.

"Together?" He supplied, the word weighty on his tongue.

"Yeah, I mean—like," she raised her eyes to him, "to date, maybe. And see where we went, but," she heaved yet another sigh. "That's not possible now, not really."

"It's—not?" He couldn't help the raised eyebrow.

"No." Her voice sounded strained. "Not—because of me, I would love that," she colored again. "Only because—because—" She took one deep breath then two , and he could sense the blood rushing through her as he always could, so strongly.

"I don't understand," Soul finally said, frowning.

"I haven't told anyone that I imprinted. I hid it because it was you and I—was afraid of what they'd do, that they'd kill you, but I can't hide it forever. I'll slip eventually and then. Well, it'll be bad. So—I'm so sorry, Soul, because this is my fault and I hate it, it's not fair, but there are two choices, neither of them good."

"I still don't understand," he shook his head.

"The thing is when a werewolf imprints—it's unbreakable. Because of—what you are--the elders would fear what you might do, that you'll pose a threat, and because I've imprinted—my loyalties would lie with you. So to end the threat, they would naturally choose to—to—they might kill you, Soul," she looked haunted, her green eyes meeting his , so iridescent in the waning daylight. "And I—I can't let them. I won't. I'd sooner die."

"Make, no, that's—".

She put up a hand to shush him and continued. "That's why we have to act soon, to make sure you're safe. There are—two ways. The first is you leave, far and fast, and never return. They can't touch you then, won't need to."

"I don't wanna leave," he met her gaze, unhappy, determined. "What's the other option."

"Well—it's only an option if it works. I did some research of the old lore. Normally, when we imprint it's one way—our m-mate," she stammered out the word, "may love us, but it's normal love, a choice. When a werewolf imprints on another werewolf, it's—different. The bond goes both ways and their souls are bound—they are as one soul in two bodies, they share a strong connection. To harm one is to harm the other, kill one to kill the other. They are inseparable."

"Okay… But how does that help us?" Soul couldn't believe this conversation, yet he had no choice. His stomach soured at the strangeness of it all.

"Well," Maka licked her lips. "I found an old, old story, long forgotten, in the archive."

"Archive?"

"Our pack has an archive, every pack does," she said as if he had questioned that the sky is blue on a cloudless afternoon. "Anyway, this old tale—was of a werewolf elder who imprinted on a half-blood girl. Because she had fallen in love with him in return, they—uh—consummated their relationship," she went scarlet, "and when they did, because of the power inherent in a half-blood, their souls bonded in the same way a werewolf would with another werewolf. I don't know—for sure—if it would work, but—" she red and fidgeting and looking down at her hands again. As the implication of what she had just told him hit, his own mouth gaped, working noiselessly.

Was she suggesting? Maka couldn't possibly be suggesting…. could she? Soul wanted to—fuck, he'd wanted to for so long—but she wasn't the type to jump into that, and and—

"Y-you—" he stammered out, "I mean, you want—but—"

Her flush deepened.

"I know it sounds—strange and wrong. And maybe it won't work. But it—if it did, they couldn't touch you because to do so would hurt me, kill me, and Papa would never allow it, even if the council were willing to kill one of their own."

"And if it doesn't work?"

She sighed for the half dozenth time that hour. "We're back where we started. You have to run or we do."

"We?"

"If you want—I mean, to be together—you know what, never mind, it was—"

"Maka," she was becoming flustered, but Soul suddenly felt oddly calm. He took her hand and stroked it soothingly. "I'm not going anywhere. I," he took a deep, steadying breath and steeled his nerves, for if he couldn't say this now then when could he? "I love you, have for a long time. I want this. So we'll face whatever there is to face, okay? I won't let them hurt you."

She squeezed his hand, smiled shakily. "It's not me I'm worried about," she murmured. "And you don't have to do this. I know you care, you're my best friend of course you do, but you don't have to say you lo—"

"But I do." His voice didn't waver.

"You understand if this works—it's forever right? Werewolves and half-bloods both are long, long lived and this would be for—for life. It's—a lot, I know, and I understand if—"

"Maka," he reached out his free hand to touch her cheek, thrilling in her abnormal warmth, in how she nuzzled into his touch. "I want this. Do you think, what, I'll change my mind? You're one of the few people I can even fucking stand, the only one I can imagine anything like a lifetime with. So if you want this, then so do I, alright? I hate that it has to be like this. I wish I'd had the guts to ask you out sooner, to do shit right, but in the end it wouldn't have changed that you're what I want—all I've wanted for a long fucking time now. You deserve better, but fuck, I'll do everything I can to be what you deserve." He knew it sounded cheesy, uncool, but he couldn't fucking care. He just wanted her to be okay, them to be okay. To be together.

"If—if you're sure," she whispered, her cheek hot with her flush under his palm.

"I'm sure," he whispered back and leaned in to kiss her, a warm touching of chapped lips, achingly brief. Soul pulled his face away and stood, offering her a hand to pull her up after. "We should get you home. I'd rather not be killed by you dad before I can kiss you again."

Maka smiled back and, hand in hand, they made their way to her house.

Soon enough, they would have to consummate their new relationship, soon enough they would find out if they would stand or flee, but they were both willing to face it as long as it was together.