Summary:

Memories resurface and connections are severed. Auriel feels incapable. Can Stein change that?

A/N:

My headcanon is that weapons and meisters are born being able to heal more quickly than the average human. And they are more indestructible the stronger they become. Idk if this is canon, bc its never explicitly mentioned, so I'm calling it a headcanon.

DISCLAIMER: Any mental illness depicted may or may not be accurate. I try my best to research symptoms, but I am not an expert and often base things on my own experiences. Stein is obviously a greatly whitewashed psychopath in the manga and will be depicted the same way here as it is central to his character. He will be violent, possessive, and even cruel at times. If that bothers you, this is probably not a story you want to read. The MC struggles with severe depression, grief, survivor's guilt, and a budding alcohol addiction. She switches between violent outbursts and fawning to cope with her feelings. This can be a dark story (with all the same themes and elements as the manga) and as the author I do not agree with all the things the characters do, say, or believe. Trigger warnings are in the tags. You have been warned, read at your own risk.

Michael was good to Auriel. He helped her when she faltered, corrected her missteps, and helped her grow strong. Her soul was a perfect fit for him, she just needed to make a few adjustments. Their apartment was peaceful, so long as she made no mistakes. And she was his perfect weapon, so she rarely made mistakes.

Michael made her friends laugh. They only occasionally asked her if she was alright or needed help. Why would she? Michael was perfect, and good, and kind, and perfect, and good, and kind, and perfect, and good, and kind, and perfect, and good and kind and perfect andgoodandkindandperfect—

Auriel awoke with a gasp, a heaving thing that sucked into her lungs and pulled tight at her skin as though it wanted to suck her flesh and muscle and bone inside, into the black void of her ruined soul. It unleashed itself in a high, keening wail, her hands scrabbling at her pillows and blankets, stuffing them against her mouth to muffle the sound.

Stein wouldn't come running. He didn't care that much about her. Still, she didn't want to wake him if he was sleeping, nor did she want to alert him to her suffering. He knew enough about it already.

But the cries kept coming like claw-tipped fingers searching their way up her throat. Her vision began to swim and spin, her head growing light and her breath coming fast. And there was that warm static-y feeling brushing against her soul again, stitching itself to her, sending light pulses of static through her chest.

Then Stein was there, pulling her fists away from her mouth and covering it with his hand. It was cool, callused, scarred, and steady. Her lips were pliant against his palm and they zipped closed, forcing her breath through her nose. Panic swelled up in her chest, but another soul tendril stitched itself to her, sending a spark.

"Breathe," Stein said, tone almost bored. "You were stronger than this, Auri. Breathe."

But she wasn't stronger than this. Not anymore.

Not since that witch shoved her forked tongue down her throat, attempting to climb inside of her, to claim her body then her soul. Michael's soul. Auriel had barely enough strength to slice the witch in two and wrench herself away. Black spots danced before her eyes and she swayed against Stein's body.

He was shirtless, wearing only white drawstring sleeping pants. His body was amassed with scars, some old, some newly stitched, some self-inflicted, some battle-won. She had always thought he was beautiful in a macabre sort of way, and now he was even more so.

One of his arms moved to encircle her, his hand moving from her mouth to pat her cheek sharply.

"Breathe," he demanded once more in that same bored tone.

Auriel tried to suck in a large gulp through her mouth, but couldn't.

"Through your nose, stupid," Stein said.

Hey! She wasn't stupid!

His fingers massaged the space between her eyebrows. "Don't get mad at me, you're the one who forgot how to breathe. You know, one of the most basic human functions? I would never have become a doctor if I had known all my patients were going to be this idiotic."

How was he simultaneously so comforting and infuriating?

She wanted to rip his skin off and make a coat out of him.

But she settled for breathing.

Properly this time.

He removed the soul stitching on her mouth when her chest started to rise and fall evenly. It was then that she truly realized she was nestled into Stein's bare chest. If her mama could see her now, she'd send her outside to find a switch for lying in her half-naked partner's arms like a tart.

A snort escaped her and she looked up to see that Stein's face was blank and unreadable.

"Don't tell me you're choking now," he said, moving to open her mouth to check for a foreign object.

Auriel batted his hand away. "'m fine now, you can go back to bed."

Still, he didn't release her.

Rolling her eyes, Auriel pulled herself away and twisted to check the time on her electric alarm clock. Four-thirty am. Well, she wasn't getting back to sleep now. They needed to be up in a few hours anyway. She ran a hand down her tired face, sighing heavily.

"I'm sorry," she murmured.

"Don't apologize. Just don't be stupid," Stein said, standing from her floor mattress.

Auriel wanted to laugh but found it stuck in her throat. She needed to do more than that – she needed to become stronger; she needed to live – if she wanted to keep Michael's soul alive inside her.

Michael whose hands were gentle and violent. Michael whose voice was soft and harsh. Michael whose soul shone so brightly it burned her every time they resonated. Michael who loved her so much that he wanted to be with her forever even if she hadn't wanted to—

"Auriel," Stein snapped, leaning to flick her in the forehead.

At the same time, his soul sent a pulse of electricity through her. He was still attempting to resonate with her? She hadn't even realized. The shock coursed through her, a pleasant thrum beneath her skin and deep in her bones.

"If you're not going to sleep, we may as well get a head start on our… experiment," Stein said scathingly, leaning his weight into one hip and crossing his arms over his chest.

Auriel stared up at him, the glow of the moonlight turning his scars silver. Shakily, she brought herself to her feet, the frigid temperature of the concrete floor sending a much less pleasant shock up her legs than Stein's soul. She wanted to ask what he had planned but didn't. It was this or nothing. And even if nothing mattered anymore, she wasn't going to give in just yet.

The desert was a cold place before the sun came up. The arid atmosphere left nothing for the sunbaked heat to stick to until the next sunrise. Auriel never thought she would miss the oppressive humidity of the Appalachian Mountains but the bitter cold as she trudged through the Nevada deserts gave her such a distinct longing for home that she almost wept.

If she had stayed, maybe none of this would have happened. Maybe Azreal would still be alive. Maybe Michael would still be alive, and he wouldn't be haunting her every waking moment.

Ah, who was she kidding? She was destined for a life of death and destruction. The flaming sword of God brought it wherever she went.

When they stopped in front of a rather tall butte, Auriel stared up at the structure in disbelief. It had to have been thousands of feet in height! And she was expected to climb it?

Demon weapons may be able to do feats that regular humans were incapable of, but that didn't mean she could climb up a straight-sided mountain and back down in time for first period! Especially since she hadn't been used as a weapon in over five years.

Apparently, that is exactly what Stein expected of her because he stomped his cigarette out in the sand and began climbing. She blinked up at his ascending form – much faster than she would have thought such a large man capable, especially in that old, tattered black trench coat of his – and looked down at her sturdy sneakers, leggings, and large t-shirt. Then she looked back up at Stein and rolled her eyes.

Auriel Saint was a demon weapon. One of the youngest in history. She could climb a damn mountain.

Determination coursed through her and she gripped the craggy rock face in her hands, pulling herself upward. There was no fear of falling or death. Not because she didn't care, but because at most she might have some nasty bruising or minorly broken bones if she did fall. Meisters and weapons were far more indestructible than the average human.

Despite this resiliency, Auriel felt her muscles aching far sooner than she would have liked. Her hands began to cramp, her fingers blistering, and sweat poured down her face and back. Surely when she reached the top, all her nails would be broken. The discomfort and pain worsened the further she climbed, but she continued to ascend the butte. As she did, Stein's form above callously taunted her. She never seemed to gain on him, his long body too far for her to reach.

That pit of despair in her soul seemed to open up at the sight of him above her. It would be so easy to let go, to let the sands of the Nevada desert swallow her whole. But even if she fell from this great height, she could not die. Death himself would be the one to reap her because there was no way she was going to be able to do this. Whatever 'this' was.

Training? Rehabilitation? She could not achieve resonance with Stein, the point was moot.

You belong to me. Michael's voice crooned in her head. You are my weapon.

"I know." Auriel continued to climb.

You and I have become one in perfect resonance. That monster will not have you.

"I know." Auriel could feel the tears gathering in her eyes.

She wanted to let go. She wanted to fall – wantedhimtoshutup. Michael would have wanted her to fall rather than do any of this with Stein. Michael was only looking out for her – Stein had hurt her brother after all. Stein was a monster.

But what did that make her then? Stein had never eaten a human soul, much less his partner's. He had not committed the ultimate betrayal to Death and his partner – experimenting on Spirit notwithstanding. Stein had not let Sprit die, nor had he let a witch escape. He had not let the witch claim his mouth with her own and try to claim his body. Auriel was the monster, not Stein.

But she was so close now, just a few more feet. Just a few more feet and she would reach the precipice. If she reached it everything would be okay. Maybe Michael would even rest. Perhaps she could get some peace if he did.

Then her foot slipped on a loose rock and her body slammed against the stone, the rock biting into her flesh causing her to cry out. Her fingers gripped the cliff face tightly, but her palms were now raw, sweat and dirt smearing into the abrasions and she felt like she could barely hold on. She had wanted to fall and now she was going to get her wish.

You were always reckless, and now you will regret it. Michael sounded delighted at the prospect. Just fall. Maybe you will get lucky and join me in death.

Horror flooded her gut at Miachael's words. Her fingers began to slip the harder she tried to hold on. She didn't want to fall. She didn't want to deal with broken ribs, bruised joints, or anything else. She wanted to reach the top of this stupid rock formation and—

A strong hand wrapped around her wrist and pulled, and she looked up to see Stein illuminated by the rising sun – whorls of red, orange, and blue framing him like Monet's Sunrise, Venice. Shirtless once again, all his scars were on display shining silver in the rising sun. Cords of muscle rippled as he held fast to her, preventing her from falling.

Auriel felt her jaw slacken at the sight but could do nothing except stare dumbly.

He was… beautiful. Beautiful in a way she knew not how to describe. Pallid and silvery thrown in stark contrast by the new light. Macabre and sinister, but preventing her from harm while Michael's angelic voice had urged her toward the ground.

The fingers of her free hand gripped the rock face, afraid to let go. Afraid she would fall. Afraid that she would not fall. Afraid Stein would loathe her for her weakness and let her go, as Michael would have done, once upon a time. She had nursed a broken forearm for weeks after that failure of a mission.

"Let go," Stein urged, his voice revealing no strain from holding her steady.

"I can't," she said.

"You won't fall."

"You don't know that!"

"I'll pull you up," Stein promised, squeezing her hand. "You can trust me."

A scoff left Auriel's mouth before she could stop it, but Stein only grinned.

"Unless you want me to let go?" he asked, loosening his grip on her wrist. "I'll be able to set your bones and stitch you back together if you fall, but if you do… I can't guarantee I won't keep a souvenir."

Auriel's feet began to slide against the rock and they scrambled for purchase. Her hand slipped from the stone, Stein's loosened grip causing her wrist to begin sliding out of his grasp, and with all the strength left in her weakened body, she thrust her arm upward. Her blistered fingers wrapped around Stein's scarred forearm, clinging to him with all her might.

If he was surprised, he didn't show it, tightening his grip on her wrist and pulling her upward again.

"If I fall, and you keep anything," Auriel ground out. "Take part of my liver, it regenerates."

Stein laughed, finally pulling her over the edge. "I was hoping for your heart."

"Well then you'd have to zombify me, and I ain't very partial to being undead," Auriel panted, laying spread-eagle on the ground where Stein had released her.

She didn't fall. Michael was wrong.

Michael was wrong, again.

Stein leaned over her, prodding her with a bare foot. "I think you'd make a striking zombie."

"Striking?" Auriel gasped in a laugh that hurt her lungs. "Now that's a ten-dollar word. You been reading my romance novels?"

Crouching to her level, Stein grinned at her. "Get up, we're burning daylight."

"Make me." Auriel stuck her tongue out at him, regretting it instantly because Stein's hand darted out and gripped it tightly, painfully, between his finger and thumb.

"I changed my mind, if I have to put you back together, I want your tongue."

Her what? The light in his eyes was anything but mad, it was hungry. His fingers twisted her tongue this way and that, peering at the taste buds, the venous underside, tugging until it was unable to go any further out of her mouth and she was forced to open as wide as she could. Auriel could have pushed him away, or bitten him, but she was too shocked to do anything but stare.

What the hell?

What was this?

It was almost intimate, almost loving, the way he poked and prodded. Such a strange sensation that Auriel couldn't react even if she wanted to.

And reacting like she did yesterday would only unlock… whatever his response was. Him bent over her on that stupid desk, hands at her throat – faceinherbreasts – her legs wrapped around his hips like a lovers embrace.

Auriel trembled at the memory.

No. She needed to be calm. Auriel hated the thought of having a partner she needed to treat like a wild animal, but there was nothing else to do. She couldn't let him pluck out her tongue. He promised not to put his fingers in her mouth again – unless she asked for it.

Which she would never do. Ever. Not in a million years.

Her hand reached up, gently tugging his fingers away from her mouth. "Thought you said you weren't going to do that anymore."

"Oh…" he breathed, staring hard at her lips. "Sorry."

Auriel pushed herself upright, Stein's hand still resting on the back of her neck. Her ponytail tangled in his fingers, the hairs standing up slightly from the static electricity he occasionally emanated.

"I don't think you can help it sometimes," Auriel sighed, looking down at his scarred hand nestled in her palms. "Listen, I don't like you. You don't like me. But we gotta make this work somehow, so, if you got something you want to see…" Auriel took a deep breath and squeezed his hand in hers. "Just ask, okay? Unless it's something perverted. Then you can go kick rocks."

Again, Stein laughed, his fingers tightening on the back of her neck in a way that was not completely unpleasant or threatening. It was like he was holding on to her, a tether. And her soul flickered in response. Then he froze, staring down at her t-shirt-covered chest where her soul danced.

It was reaching out, unfolding timidly, waiting for his soul to press forward and fill up the emptiness.

"Auri," he said, pulling his hand from hers.

She shuddered, swallowing thickly as Michael screamed in her mind, watching while Stein's hand reached toward her sternum. It was warm when his palm pressed flat against the flesh and bone. Her heart was thundering in her ribcage, she could see his hand moving with each thud-thump, thud-thump, thud-thump.

And through his hand came that warm, static-y feeling from yesterday. Stein's soul washed over hers like a breath of warm air on a hot summer day, like a breeze fluttering through the linens on her mamaw's clothesline. It overwhelmed her senses and she choked on the feeling, tears welling up in her eyes as she fought the desire to leap away from Stein.

"You're crying again," he stated.

"I know," she replied.

"Why?"

"I…"

Why was she crying?

Was it because Michael's voice was silent now, completely and utterly silent? She could have kissed Stein for that reason alone. For the first time in a very long time, she felt like everything would be okay. Like she could be happy. Then guilt stained their connection.

Michael didn't deserve that kind of thinking.

Michael didn't deserve this.

Curiosity bristled against her and she looked up into Stein's eyes once again, seeing the green fire blazing in them. It felt like that fire was surrounding her, blazing hotly like the desert sun. She was aflame – no, she was flame. Electricity. Energy. Heat.

Her mouth grew dry when she realized Stein's hand had crumpled in her t-shirt, his fist mere centimeters from her breasts. It was burning, the fibers sizzling in his palm. She thought of his finger in her mouth yesterday, the strong calloused feel of them on her tongue minutes ago—

A shock ran through her, painful, searing. Their connection severed and she felt a shadow overtake her soul once more. Jerking away from Stein, Auriel yanked the burned t-shirt off and dumped it on the sandy ground, leaving her in just her black sports bra and leggings.

A few deep breaths, a few clenches of her fists, and whatever that was between them was gone. Stein was easily able to resonate with anyone, it was just some strange little quirk of his, nothing more. She wasn't so easily capable of melding her soul to someone else's. Not after Michael.

When she turned back to face Stein, he was still on the ground, staring up at her with that same hungry expression he had always looked at her with – even when they were children. And annoyance. She could deal with that emotion. She was used to that one from him. From others. It was easy, familiar. She could do familiar. She just couldn't take any more of that warmth flooding her brain – her body, her senses her soul. It made her want to do something stupid, say something stupid. It made her stupid.

Auriel hated being stupid because her own stupidity caused the death of her last meister.

Auriel was weaker than he had thought. Stein didn't make the observation to be hateful, his emotions were too far removed from the situation to feel such. However, he hadn't expected to need to help her climb that mountain. That should be something easy for a death scythe. She had been out of commission for a long time… Five years? Nearly since Azrael had died.

A pang shot through him at the remembrance of the young man's death. Regret? Anger? Stein had a hard time describing the things he felt, especially when the feelings were strong. Like the overwhelming sensation of hunger, he felt when he had Auriel's tongue between his fingers. It wasn't a cannibalistic hunger – he had no desire to consume flesh. He chewed on his own chapped lips enough to know that human flesh was not palatable for him.

He knew hunger.

This was different.

Looking upon Auriel's semi-nude body while he sent blast after blast of his soul energy at her, seeing her weakened muscles ripple in response to years of training, taking in all the scars marring her torso… Something pulled low in his belly, something that felt very much like physical hunger. Something he didn't like.

The next blast of energy caught her in the stomach, his flat-fisted strike landing true. Auriel went flying, landing on her back with a muffled cry and skidding to a stop only a few feet from the edge of the butte.

"Shit," she groaned, coughing when she rolled to try and stand.

"Focus, will you?" Stein demanded.

He was growing impatient, and impatience made it easy for the madness to take over. Auriel had let him in briefly, and it was so easy to fill up the scarred parts of her soul – until she shut him out again. This experiment was proving fruitless, even in its early stages.

"Don't be an ass," she snapped back, voice raspy with strain.

He watched her stand, her body on full display. He wanted to pinch the flesh of her hips, feel the swell of them under his palms, to feel the sharp points of her pelvis against his thumbs if she would let him dig them into the fat and muscle there. He wanted to know if her sweat tasted like his own as it dripped down their bodies in the rapidly heating desert sun. Want, desire, dissection.

Click

Click

Click

"You okay there, Doc?" Auriel asked, watching him carefully as he adjusted the bolt in his head.

A wry smirk twisted over her mouth – pink but chapped like his own – and she rushed him, her arm transforming into that column of black flame that had felt so wrong in his hand. Auriel had been the sun incarnate; her flame was so bright and hot. Now it was this tainted black thing. He wanted to know why, suspecting it had to do with that shadow that hovered over her soul like a death omen.

"Am I getting under your skin?" she sneered, swiping out with that flame-coated arm of hers.

A tendril licked over his hand before he could pull it back, and it burned. Pain seared up his arm, cold as ice. He had tested dry ice on himself once and had to perform a skin graft where he had destroyed his flesh in that experiment. Auriel's flame felt like that, but worse. It nearly sucked the air from his lungs and she had barely touched him.

"You wish," he taunted back, sending out another flat-fisted punch.

This one caught her in the shoulder, but she was prepared, grounding her feet in the sandy earth and holding fast. Her sword arm came up between them, flame flickering just under his chin. He felt the energy in his palm release, jolting her back, but she grabbed at his forearm with her left hand, holding herself still. Her jaw worked through the pain, and it had hurt, he could see it glistening in her eyes.

Stein did not pull punches. Not when he got to see Auriel's pretty green eyes wet with involuntary tears. The desire to taste them was overwhelming and he could feel his hand digging into her shoulder and breast where he had landed his hit. Her eyes… he had the perfect specimen jar just waiting for them. It would be so easy, hook his finger into the socket and pop—

"Focus, wouldja?" Auriel goaded, allowing her flame to brush the underside of his chin.

Her teeth bared up at him triumphantly when he let out a gasp of pain.

She was weaker than he remembered, but different too. She could still take a punch, still give back almost as good as she got, but she wasn't the same. She was harder, crueler. He supposed that he wasn't the same either.

"You want me to hit you, Doc?" she breathed, flame extinguishing when she leaned in so, so close. "You want me to give it back to you like you gave to me?"

Yes! he almost breathed, confusion clouding his mind. They were sparring. This was sparring. Why did it feel like she was asking him something more intimate?

Suddenly he remembered a time when they were teenagers – nearing adulthood – when Michael had threatened to dump Auriel as a partner and had dumped her as her boyfriend, over some mistake that had been made on their mission, and she ended up with a broken arm. From what Spirit had told him, it was Michael's fault, but he had blamed Auriel. Azreal had all but begged Stein to talk some sense into his sister, to get her to leave Michael once and for all.

Stein had been surprised when Auriel accepted his invitation to talk. Michael tended to have her avoid Stein. Things must have truly been bad if she agreed to see him, especially alone. They ended up under a tree in the park in Death City when he asked to talk, silent as the grave.

He had spoken first. Something along the lines of dumping Michael and finding a new partner. Auriel hadn't taken it well and she ended up straddling his lap, fists inches from his eye, threatening to blacken it if he didn't take it back.

Stein remembered his hands coming to rest on her hips, feeling the shape of her bones beneath his thumbs and she had shuddered under his touch. He couldn't help it, he was curious, he wanted to know what she felt like, wanted to take her apart and know her inside out. His hands had crept higher, feeling the shape of her ribs over her grey blouse as she had not taken to wearing a corset yet.

Then her shoulder blades, then her clavicle, her muscles strong and hard beneath his touch. He wanted to sink his teeth into the hollow of her throat, then between her neck and shoulder just to see what color her skin would turn.

"What do you think you're doing?" she had asked, her fist dropping to his chest.

She had sounded strangled and he wondered if she would have made the same sound if his hands were on her throat.

"Am I getting under your skin?" he'd joked – he now realized she had been quoting him earlier.

She hit him then, but thankfully he had been prepared. Any more momentum and she would have fractured his eye socket. Instead, he jerked his head to the side and she brushed against his cheekbone, her thumb ring slicing his cheek. He still remembered the way his face tingled afterward; how electric he felt.

How she burned beneath him when he had flipped her onto her back in his mad desire to take her apart after she drew his blood. Her hand had fisted in his silver hair, his hips slotted into hers – only their clothing separating them – and their mouths crashed together when she attempted to wrestle him off.

Something in Stein flickered and for that moment, he wanted to take Auriel Saint apart as much as he wanted to take her. He had forgotten the desire that had overwhelmed him that day, his mouth on hers – the honey-sweet taste of her lips as she kissed him back greedily – and the muffled cry of pain that made him stop pulling at her clothes when her broken arm had gotten caught between them. The sound of her pain had strangely been anything but arousing, and he had helped her to her feet. Neither had spoken of the incident again, especially not after Michael had taken her back.

"Try it," he murmured, present in his body while the memory faded away. "Try it and see what happens, Auri."

So, she did. Her face was hard and cold when her fist crashed into his eye, and he was grateful he had left his glasses in his coat. The pain barely registered he was so riled up, so many confusing – conflicting – thoughts flooding through his brain. They were illogical, they were not something useful. They were confounding – Auriel was confounding.

Stein was on her in a flash, hooking his leg around hers to drop her to the ground before he had her pinned on her stomach, face pressed into the sand. Auriel let out a wild gasp, scrabbling against the earth, her broken nails coated with dirt and sand mixed with sweat. Stein's own grime-coated fingers trailed along her bare spine and she trembled beneath him, her breath hitching in her trachea. He wanted to put his hands there and feel her pulse flutter while he squeezed.

Would she like that?

The thought was like gasoline on a wildfire and he resisted the urge to adjust the bolt.

"Auri," he sighed, allowing his clinical disappointment to shine through as he spoke into her ear. "You used to be able to throw off opponents so easily. This is the second time I've gotten you into a hold and you can't even budge me. And now…" he murmured, placing his fist at the base of her spine, letting his free hand squeeze the base of her skull. "There are so many different places to break you. Where should I start? Your spine? Or should I test your arm? You broke it, so the bone should be so much stronger than it used to be. I wonder how much that would hurt. I don't think I've ever once heard you scream. I bet it would be delightful."

"Doc," Auriel rasped into the ground. "Fuck off."

His brows rose to his hairline, a chuckle bursting out of him in surprise. Auriel had never been a person who cursed regularly – other than the odd benign swear now and then. She even washed her own siblings' mouths out with soap if she overheard them using what she deemed foul language – had tried it on Stein once when she was twelve, which ended in a broken window and a lost bar of lavender soap.

"If you were going to dissect me, you'd have done it already," she taunted from below. "You'd have had me cut open or injected with some strange substance the first night I was at your lab, heck, maybe even before the sun set. You're fuckin' around. Tryin' to scare me or something. Well guess what, I ain't afraid of you, and I never have been."

"Good," he whispered, applying pressure to her skull. "Now get out of the hold."

"This ain't no hold," she retorted.

"Get out of it then."

"I think I'm comfortable. You ain't hitting on me, and I'm layin' down."

"Get out of the hold, Auriel."

"Why don't you make me? Go on, Doc, give me a reason."

What a brat! She was doing her damnedest to remind him of how annoying she was. "If you don't break the hold, I'll name every bone and muscle in the human body."

"Ooh, so scary," she jeered.

"And demonstrate exactly where they are on your body."

"Oh."

It was the tiniest little squeak accompanied by the slightest shift in her body. He wanted to hear it again, to open up her throat and look at all the parts that made up her voice so grating – so intoxicating – just so he could know why it affected him so. Wanted to know why the muscles of her pelvis tensed beneath his fist.

In a blur of movement, Stein was knocked off his feet and Auriel was leaning over him, grinning like a champion.

"You're not the only one lacking, Doc," she laughed. "I had you a—all bothered up. Am I really that inviting of a specimen? Are you really so tempted to cut me up?"

Her voice was mocking like Michael's had been the day he confronted him for breaking Auriel's arm – he hadn't done it himself, but he had put her in danger, much as he had the day she ate his soul. Stein wanted to shut her up. The madness in his soul, his brain, demanded he shut her up.

Kicking out, he swept her legs out from under her again and she hit the ground with a woosh, her pink ponytail floating comically as she fell – her pale skin reddened with exertion and the sun's rays. He was atop her again – his knees braced over her, hand on her throat, and fist above her face.

Auriel's face had flashed with fear before shuttering into a closed-off expression. Her hands gripped at both of his, leaving behind streaks of grimy blood where the blisters had burst. His hand squeezed around her throat and he grinned when a flush ghosted over her cheeks and her teeth bared. He had bested her, again. And she didn't like that.

"Best four out of five?" he goaded.

"Fuck me," she groaned, rubbing her bloodied hands over her face.

Stein's mind stuttered for a moment, then raced then shut down. "What?"

"I said 'fuck me'," she repeated. "You know, when you're in a bind and you say 'fuck me'?"

Oh, right.

Stein released Auriel but did not move from his spot atop her, looking down at her curiously.

Click

Click

Click

Cliiiiiick

"You good?" she asked, not noticing the way he was staring at her heaving chest.

Or her thundering pulse.

Or her mouth.

"Fine," he said through gritted teeth.

"Same time tomorrow then? I'll probably be up." She made a show of looking at her bare wrist like she was wearing a watch. "Oh, look at the time! We need to get to class."

Stein rose stiffly but did not offer her a hand. She didn't need it, nor seem to want it. Her posture was stiff, her cheeks flushed. Her demeanor changed rapidly, like the flip of a coin. One second mocking, the next the picture of blushing virginity, and the next angry as a swarm of hornets. It was going to give him whiplash.

The descent of the mountain was going to be a pain, Auriel's hands would need to be cleaned, treated, and bandaged. It was a good thing that demon weapons healed quicker than normal humans because he would be dragging her back out here tomorrow. Just for being a little shit.

The rest of the day has gone surprisingly smoothly. It had felt… not good, not nice… freeing for Auriel to take her feelings out on Stein. She was weaker than she used to be but had still landed a few blows that would certainly give him trouble. That felt good. Michael had never wanted to spar like that with her. It wasn't necessary. He was a meister and she was a weapon, they needed to work together, not fight each other.

Auriel had thought that was silly. If you didn't know how your partner fought, then you wouldn't know how you would fight together. That had always been a problem for them. She never knew how to anticipate his movements, nor he hers. He never wanted to listen to her advice during a fight, even though she was an excellent strategist. Professor Shelley had said so.

The very same professor Shelley who had mentored Stein after he had been forcibly split up with Spirit. He had been very put out when Auriel had partnered with Michael, but she never understood why. Maybe not until now…

She looked down at her bandaged hands with a sigh. Stein had stolen all the hot water again when they returned from their sparring session – possibly because she refused to share the shower with him despite his reasoning that it would save time. The man did not understand boundaries still, as she was coming to understand. But despite their annoyance with one another, he still took the time to disinfect and wrap her hands carefully. He wasn't gentle, he hardly ever was, but he did make sure that everything was properly cared for. Every abrasion, blister, and bruise.

Maka and Soul had questioned the bandaged state of her hands and her casual state of dress. Since many of her outfits would not look right without the corset – and she was not going to ask Stein to lace her up because of her hands – she wore leggings and a t-shirt, which were the only things she could manage with her hands.

She had waved off her student's concerns, reminding them that a weapon that was out of commission would need a lot of retraining to get back to a useable state, even a death scythe. Maka had also invited her to lunch that weekend since her father had been hounding her to go out with him. Auriel accepted as she was already going out with Spirit, and felt the need to mediate between the two.

Stein had barely spoken to her since they left the lab but watched her diligently. His eyes followed her movements the same way they had when they were sparring, as though he were trying to anticipate her. He did not attempt to resonate with her for a third time that day.

When they returned home in the evening, he stood next to her at the counter, watching as she prepared dinner. He was silent, save the turn of the bolt in his head every so often, and watchful. He stood too close at times, smirking when she would be forced to brush up against him, or when she told him to move. It wasn't that he didn't understand boundaries then, he just didn't care.

When they were kids, Stein had a superiority complex. He wanted to do what he wanted and damn anyone who questioned him or tried to get him to behave. It didn't seem like that now, since he had mellowed out somewhat as they grew. However, this seemed more like he just wanted to be a pain.

"You going to eat?" she asked when the curry and rice were completed.

"Yeah," he replied.

That shocked her. The first word he had spoken to her since they left the lab for the second time, and he was agreeing to eat with her. Or, at least eat her food.

"Help yourself then," she said dishing out her portion.

She craved a glass of dry wine, but water would have to do. They ate standing in the kitchen, silence hanging between them like an old friend. She would have preferred him to talk now that her hands and mind weren't busy – didn't want to have to listen to Michael complain. Nor did she want to remember the strange undercurrent from earlier this morning. The raw sensuality that had lurked beneath the surface of Stein's taunts and threats while they sparred.

At least, that was what it had felt like. It reminded her of that day beneath the oak tree in the park when she was a teen. Of how hot her skin had burned when Stein's lips had found hers, accidentally of course. Michael had dumped her, she wanted him back, but Stein was there. He had been a constant companion and thorn in her side from the first day they met. And she had let her solar flare of a temper get the better of her again, and he had let his madness overtake him, leading to something neither of them understood or acknowledged until that moment. Until he had tried to pull her apart and she accidentally pulled his mouth against hers in an attempt to escape. Wrestling a boy nearly a foot taller than you with a broken arm was not an easy feat.

Michael hadn't so much as kissed her in their time together, and while it was nice, it lacked any sort of passionate spark. Stein… when their lips touched it was like electricity had zapped both of them, flipping some sort of switch. He had been rough, unpracticed, and wholly and utterly ravenous. The way his hips had felt in between hers, hard and sharp and foreign, haunted her for days after. And the hungry way in which he kissed her, and she him. He had tasted of metal and salt, his chapped lips softer than Michael's had ever been.

Michael never knew. She never ever told him. Would never.

"Auriel," Stein said as they cleaned up.

Another surprise, him being somewhat helpful.

She hummed a response, not trusting her voice. Not trusting herself after the memory she relived. Did he remember too? Did he remember the way they avoided each other after that day? How she had not dared to ask Death to let Stein be her partner, how she had not had the courage to say no when Michael decided he wanted her back…

"We should change the bandages on your hands," Stein continued, watching her scrub down the countertops.

"I'll do it," she said.

"Don't be annoying," he replied.

She turned to him, brows furrowed. "I'm not trying to be."

"Then let me do it."

Auriel stared up at him, head tilted to the side. Why? Why was he insisting on doing it for her? She was capable of doing it herself. Being beholden, being a burden, was not something Auriel enjoyed.

But when he took her hands, ignoring her protestations, and unwrapped her bandages Auriel felt like anything but a burden. The warmth of his soul crashed into her once again, making her knees weak, and threatening to send her to the floor. This time, Michael screamed before the sound echoed into blissful silence. Auriel let it. Let a tendril of Stein's soul stitch itself to hers while he looked over her rapidly healing hands.

It seemed like he wasn't even aware he was doing it, reaching out to her. And for now, that was good. The tether stayed when he left her in search of fresh bandages and ointment, instructing her to wash her hands in warm water and dry them carefully when he returned.

The silence was so… blissful. Like the quiet sound of static the TV gave off in her Mamaw's living room. A patient thrum intent on lulling her to sleep. It almost culled her yearning for a drink. Almost.

While Stein bandaged her hands, she stared at his scarred fingers, wondering why he had harmed himself so many times. He never seemed depressed, but then, when Azreal had died she swore she saw him crying. He had many scars before that, but they were few compared to the numerous ones he carried now. Had he been depressed?

Why did she care? It was his fault that Azreal was dead.

But it wasn't, and she knew it.

Swallowing, Auriel looked up into Stein's face while he turned her hands over in his, making sure the bandages were even and secure, but not tight enough to affect blood circulation. He didn't seem to notice her stare.

He looked… nice with glasses. Friendlier somehow. Softer.

He wasn't any of those things, but he looked it.

"Thank you," she whispered hoarsely.

His eyes flashed to hers, expression unreadable. She couldn't tear her eyes away, regretting having spoken at all, when Stein dropped her hands and lit a fresh cigarette. Then, there was a slight shift in her soul, the warmth stuttering out, and he was gone. He stood in front of her but he was gone. Her soul reached toward his but was dragged back into that dark shadowy pit, cutting her off completely.

With a sigh, she reached up and plucked the cigarette from between his lips. Smoke and menthol surged down her throat, heating and soothing at the same time. The taste was atrocious, but the cooling sensation made it easy not to cough back up.

When Auriel returned the cigarette to her partner's stone lips, she exhaled a cloud and watched, wide-eyed, as he breathed it in. She left him there, alone in that dark kitchen. Despair followed. She could not connect with Stein, and if she could not connect with him, she could not connect with anyone.

Auriel Saint was Michael's creature, wholly and completely. He had left his mark on her soul, and there was nothing she could do to change that. The empty gin bottle winked at her from the windowsill. The moon was high and grinning as if it was mocking her. And when sleep found her once again, hell followed with it.

A/N:

Chapter titles taken from Ghost's "Life Eternal".

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