A/N: And we've made it...! Posting this ending on Halloween, cuz spooky story from spooky anime for spooky day. Lol I'm not funny. Anyway.

Huge thanks to split-n-splice firstly for getting me into Soul Eater, secondly for the concept of Stein and Spirit being "worn and frayed at the seams" which is a theme that will return in my future stories about them, and for her constantly listening to me babble on and on about characters she's not overly into as I learn this fandom and develop headcanons. Couldn't have done this without her. Check out her Tumblr (midnightcaptions) for Soul Eater content, and keep an eye on her AO3 for a fanfic to be appearing soon~!

What started as a tiny one-shot that never left a hospital room inspired by some lovely, thought-provoking art (check my AO3 for the art link), turned into this over 16K story, and I'm thrilled with the places it took me! It's been so much fun to explore these characters! And now...the conclusion.

Epilogue

The hurried clatter of Stein's footsteps and the those of the young meisters running behind him became white noise as his mind raced.

"So, why don't you join me?"

It had startled him, as had the approach of Medusa's lips. He knew she was a witch—the embodiment of evil—and yet he had made no moves to stop her. His accursed scientific nature was curious. Or at least, that was what he let himself believe for the moment. He had more important things to worry about.

Still, the request had hit too close, and far too soon. After the hell he had been through because of Griffin, he mentally cursed himself for even remotely allowing the condemning thought into his head.

The air was damp and chilled below the academy, and Stein shivered as he led the students onward to what would very probably be all of their doom. But he knew—he had been trembling long before they had passed into the darkened tunnels.

'Fear again. Huh. Good, I should be afraid...'

He grit his teeth. The fact that Medusa had so easily distracted him was all the proof he needed that he wasn't as strong as he would need to be for this fight. He had to remain focused on his purpose. He was Death's elite meister. And an instructor...a guardian, he supposed now, of young meisters and weapons. That was his mantra. There could be nothing else.

And somehow, he would have to stop the witch and protect his students...alone.

So distracted had he become in his thoughts that when Kid kicked up the skateboard and Maka slid to a stop behind him, Black Star stumbling next to her in surprise, he had a split-second of wondering before understanding why. And then, the wash of relief as he sensed his soul...

As Maka heralded her father's approach with words of disgust and loathing, all Stein could feel was an uncoiling of the fear that had been constricting his chest.

Despite his determination that he couldn't care and that he couldn't let anything but his assigned purpose matter to him, when it came to Spirit there was something at work in his soul which he did not understand. All he knew for certain now was that he wasn't alone. He didn't need to be alone.

But he knew he shouldn't feel that way.

"How did you manage to escape from the trap they set up there?" he asked automatically as he began to give in, letting his concerns melt away.

His feelings about Spirit, about Medusa, could wait to be analyzed later. His task was what mattered, and if he needed Spirit—and oh, how he needed him—to complete that task, then so be it. He could protect them all, now. He could fight the witch and stop the Kishin's revival. This time...he wouldn't fail.

For the first time since the lost battle on the Forsaken Plains, Stein felt like he could breathe again.

"When it comes to chasing a woman no one's faster than I am," Spirit replied with a thumbs-up and a wink.

Stein felt a familiar annoyance at the reply, and still he almost laughed.

"I should have guessed," he began, the sensation of lightness around his soul taking over his tongue before he could stop it. "It is a relief to see you, though. I wasn't sure how much I'd be able to do without my weapon around."

Stein closed the distance between them and smiled.

Then Spirit frowned and turned his back to him, humming acknowledgment as his frame tensed.

In an instant, everything within Stein broke all over again—just as it had above ground weeks ago when he had stitched and restitched Spirit's wounds. The same as it had on the plains, holding the death scythe's torn and bleeding body; as it had in the Death Room in years past when he'd demanded—and to his surprise, been granted—exile. And as it had when his best friend of five years had told him he no longer trusted him, and that as partners and in every way that mattered, they were finished.

He felt the claws of fear beginning to tear at his soul again. But without even lifting his hand to the screw in his head he banished them before they could sink in.

"You are no longer his meister."

He and Spirit knew each other intimately. They could resonate powerfully. They could fight with hardly any communication needed. But the seams of their partnership were worn, and Stein realized with an ill twisting in his gut that when stitches are frayed, they don't mend.

What had he been thinking? It was weakness to have let Spirit's presence mean anything to him, just as it was weakness to have let Medusa's lying words and false promises distract him.

Anytime he tried to attach any meaning, any value, to anything in his life, he was left disappointed. What was the definition of madness, after all? Doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different result?

Spirit may not hate him; he was too good a man for that. The scythe may be willing to fight with him when it was necessary. He may in fact desire good for his former meister. But he hadn't forgiven him, and he didn't trust him.

Any thread of friendship that Stein was still reaching for had been lost to him long ago, surrendered to his failures and to the doomed path of madness. It was time he accepted that, and take his purpose to heart. Anything else...everything else, was meaningless.

He was Death's elite meister, and an instructor of young meisters and weapons. He existed to serve, with or without a weapon, and he would serve Death well. Anything else he attempted in life was merely grasping for the wind.

Stein chewed the end of his cigarette a moment as he set aside every distraction. He looked past Spirit, toward the abyss that led to the source of all madness, and he took a breath. He had a job to do. And he was never going to screw it up again.

"What have we got?"

A/N: "There is something at work in my soul, which I do not understand." –Mary Shelley, Frankenstein

"Therefore I hated life because the work that was done under the sun was distressing to me, for all is vanity and grasping for the wind." –Solomon, Ecclesiastes 2:17, The Bible (NKJV)

Thanks for reading! I'll be back with more Soul Eater stories soon.