Chapter Text
Michael Crowley was a bastard. No, not in the literal sense. He had two parents who were married at the time of his conception, who subsequently died in a car crash when he was twelve. It was then that he came to live in Death City and attend the DWMA. His devotion to the god that had rescued him was second to none in its fervor.
None of those things changed the fact that he was a complete and utter bastard. Anyone he deemed beneath him – “heretics”, “apostates”, and God forbid Franken Stein – was subsequently reduced to dust beneath his boots. On more than one occasion as children Spirit needed to intervene when Stein and Michael were at each other’s throats. It was the only time Stein had felt anything akin to affection toward Spirit, as both he and Michael were larger than him at the time.
Auriel would try to stop them, pleading with Michael to let Stein go and leave him alone. Her pretty green eyes would shimmer with tears so large they seemed comical to the young Stein. His laughter only egged Michael on more.
Stein needed to be taught a lesson because Michael’s God was everything. And Stein was nothing. Auriel needed to shut up. She was a weapon and Michael was a meister. Her opinion didn’t matter.
Eventually, the threatening edge of Spirit’s black scythe blade would make its way between Michael’s jaw and neck and he would smile at the weapon with that charming grin of his and back away. Auriel and Azrael would breathe twin sighs of relief and check Stein over for wounds. He would brush them away. Spirit would help him to his feet.
And it would repeat the next day, or a few days later, or a week, or more. But it would always happen again.
Then they grew older, and the black leggings and baggy t-shirts Auriel wore to hide herself in phys. ed. did nothing to disguise her budding figure anymore. That was when Michael took an interest in Auriel as a weapon. Azrael was growing weaker, barely able to go hunt for a single soul in a night, much less take on the eventual witch needed to forge Auriel into a death scythe. He had wanted Stein to be her meister, but Michael had gotten to Death first with his transfer request.
And with his shiny blond hair and charming grin, who could blame Auriel for accepting?
Stein could. He wasn’t bitter about her choosing Michael over him. However, he was disappointed that she chose Michael at all. She was kind, and stubborn, and passionate. Seeing her broken down and shaped into what Michael wanted as they grew as a team irritated him. Her soul, always brilliant and shining, melded itself to fit with her meister’s in a way that made Stein feel sick. It was like her brilliant soul had cut off different parts and mutilated itself into some semblance of perfection.
And when Michael died… Well, Stein could see the results of that disfigurement first-hand. Auriel was now weak and maddeningly pathetic – wrapped up in the death of a meister who was so far beneath her caliber. Michael Crowley was a bastard. He was not a good man, he was not a good friend, and he was not a good fiancé. He was a fanatic, a bully, and cruel – especially to those who knew him best. Stein knew good men from wicked because he was not among the righteous himself.
There was a predictability in the way the next morning went. Auriel awoke, mouth sour and ashen – the cigarette smoke that clung to the lab like dust was a likely culprit – and found the bathroom occupied, steam wafting from the doorjamb. So, she brushed her teeth in the kitchen sink and started a pot of coffee.
She had awoken sometime in the night to clean up the cookware and put away the food to see that it had already been done; a note on the storage containers warning her of the dangers of foodborne illness. She had stumbled back to bed after that, pulling all her clothes off and leaving them in a heap on the floor before digging out a black linen nightdress and sliding the age-softened material over her skin.
It now hung off her shoulder as she brushed her teeth, the weight she had lost in the past few years from infrequent eating showing starkly through her pale flesh.
“I’ll clean out the other bathroom later,” Stein said, moving past her to grab a mug.
The smell of fresh smoke assailed her and she didn’t need to turn around to know he was smoking already.
“’Kay,” Auriel said and spat a mouthful of toothpaste into the drain.
She could feel his eyes on her, roving over the body parts he could see – and quite possibly her soul. Stein never struck her as the kind of man who looked at a woman’s body just to look. No, there was always a purpose behind the glances or the stares. He was looking at the way her skin was taut over her bones, muscles slightly atrophied from disuse and hunger.
A hunger she could never bear to sate completely.
How could she, after what she had done?
When she was finished, she rinsed her brush and made to return to her room, but Stein stopped her with a noise. A loud ‘hnnnn’ sound, harsh and disapproving. Auriel turned around, hair floating about her shoulders in whisps, half-pinned up from the day before.
“What?” she snapped.
“Don’t forget to eat.” Stein smirked around his mug of coffee, the silvery scar on his face twisting as he did so.
“Doctor’s orders?” she retorted.
“Yeah, let’s go with that.”
“Whatever.”
Storming from the kitchen, Auriel’s directionless feet led her to the bathroom where she slammed the door behind her. It was only when she was undressed and standing under the tepid stream of the shower did she realize that Stein had used up all the hot water. A scream clawed its way up her throat, a surge of violence crumpling her hands into fists, but she swallowed it back. There was no point in getting angry.
There was no point in anything anymore.
Auriel had eaten exactly two pieces of toast with peanut butter and a whole orange. That was barely more than four hundred calories in total. Which, if she hadn’t bought groceries yesterday, Stein wouldn’t have eaten either so he had little room to begrudge her on it. He would do so anyway because it was funny. Her brows dented in such an amusing way when she was frustrated that he couldn't help himself.
In retaliation, she had packed them both a lunch. He could tell it was retaliatory because he was pouring his third cup of coffee when she packed them, her movements stiff and jerky. Anger radiated off her in waves, the heat of her soul pulsing through the black shadow that hovered over it. It was amusing for him to watch her like this. He had always enjoyed irritating her in school because she would eventually laugh it off and dig right back at him. He remembered once that she had swapped his lunch for a fake dead rat while he wasn’t looking and shot milk out her nose when he had absentmindedly taken a chunk out of it.
The sound of her choked laughter in his memory was now drowned out by her frustrated mutters in his kitchen. Still, she was digging back in her own way. If she was forced to eat by him, she would try and annoy him by bringing him a lunch. Then he wouldn’t have to figure it out for himself ahead of time, and she would be healthier for their little experiment.
It wasn’t because he cared about her wellbeing. Why would he?
He didn’t care that her waist was nearly wasp thin with that contraption she wore under her clothes when it used to be a healthy twenty-four inches with the corset laced comfortably and twenty-six unlaced. At least it had been when she was twenty-four and he twenty-six. The hollow of her throat was just that – hollow. And her clavicle jutted out uncomfortably stark through her skin.
He wondered if a feeding tube would be necessary.
Click
The adjustment to his bolt cleared his mind somewhat.
Nah, he’d just goad her into eating. She used to be so stubborn and hated being challenged. It would be fun to bring that out again.
“Ms. Saint!” Maka Albarn called from her seat, shock coloring her expression.
“Ms. Albarn,” Auriel said wryly.
“What are you doing here, Ms. Saint?” Nakatsukasa Tsubaki asked.
All the students were confused, Soul Evans especially staring at her with open incredulity. She was the language arts and literacy teacher, one who helped them put on spectacular impromptu plays in the middle of class readings, one who comforted them during office hours when their grades were slipping, one who could quote ancient manuscripts and the most modern of texts at the drop of a hat. But this period was soul studies, of which duel arts was part of the curriculum. Their beloved Ms. Saint had never taken part in either of these classes in all her time teaching at DWMA.
Many didn’t even know if she was a weapon or a meister unless they could see souls.
“I’m your new soul studies teacher,” she told them with her hands on her hips – a display of confidence she did not feel.
Sid Barrett had shared his curriculum with her, pleased to split up some of his classes now that he was undead, letting her know that she could tweak it as much as she wanted to suit her teaching style. Since she was teaching this class alongside Dr. Stein, she would have to improvise quite a bit.
“But you teach literature…” Soul said, brows furrowing skeptically.
“And now I teach soul studies!” Auriel thrust her right arm to the side, grinning at the gasps her students made.
Her arm had transformed into a sword of black flame, cold as ice. The air around her steamed against the cold. There was once a time when her flame blazed hotter than the sun, but ever since—
The creaking sound of desk chair wheels broke into her thoughts and she dropped her arm, posture ramrod straight. The gasps of her students told her all she needed to hear. Her meister had decided to make an appearance. No doubt Maka, Soul, Tsubaki, and her partner Black Star had shared their extracurricular activities with Stein with the rest of the student body.
“Ms. Saint,” Soul shouted, jolting from his seat. “Look out!”
“Oh hush,” she said, waving him off. “Dr. Stein is mostly harmless.”
Auriel turned to face her meister, her eyebrow twitching. Just what had he done to these kids? He only smirked at her in reply, smoke wafting off his cigarette.
Irritation rose within her and something snapped. Marching over to her new partner, she snatched the cigarette from his mouth and steeled her tongue, muscle forming into hard cold metal, before putting the cherry out in the dead center. Her lips, glossy pink, closed around the cylinder of paper and tobacco – ignoring that Stein’s saliva was on the filter – and swallowed. Gasps rang out around the miniature amphitheater, but Auriel paid them no heed.
“Please don’t smoke in class, partner,” she said sweetly, her tone saccharine and smile sickly. “It’s bad for the children’s lungs.”
A manic glint flashed in Stein’s eyes and he stood from his chair, kicking it to the side with one of his overly long legs and shoving his hands deep into the pockets of his white coat. He leaned in close – a whole foot down to her level – and breathed a cloud of smoke into her face.
“Sure thing, partner,” he said, madness in his voice.
While she tried not to choke on the acrid smoke Auriel felt a tremble overtake her, undiscernible and foreign, but she decided it was rage. Many emotions were unrecognizable for her anymore.
She bared her teeth at him, hands on her hips, then abruptly turned away. The children’s murmurs ranged from fear to swooning, some of the girls and a few boys whispering about their teachers’ height difference and the thing with the smoke! Auriel caught one girl fanning herself. The rumor mill would be swirling as soon as class let out, she was sure of it.
“Alright, I know you all have questions, so let’s go ahead and get started!” she shouted against the din, frustration setting her teeth on edge.
First came the questions about her weapon form, which she begrudgingly demonstrated with Stein. Hilt excluded, she was approximately six feet long and comprised of soul-steel and black flame. At her hilt was the blackened form of a feminine angel, on the other side was a horned goat-headed man. Both their hands were folded in prayer, though the goat-man’s head was raised in a scream and the angel’s was bowed solemnly.
Auriel could feel the way Stein struggled to hold her upright, his soul attempting to stitch itself in all the broken parts of hers. A shudder ran through her soul and it flitted just out of his reach, the shadow enveloping itself protectively over her. She was heavy, longer than the average longsword, and incompatible with anyone anymore. There was nothing she could do.
Still, he gripped her tightly with one hand, grinning up at her with that same manic look from before as he took in her black flame and tainted hilt. The students gasped again, and Maka ginned. Of most of them, she knew who Auriel was. Knew that her teacher was a death scythe. And what a magnificent one she was, even in her muted glory.
Stein had the decency – or lack thereof – to appear nonplussed when she transformed back into her body, booted feet landing delicately on the classroom tiles. It had been a long time since she had been transformed, and longer still since someone held her hilt.
After that, it was all business. A little awkward when Auriel and Stein talked over one another or interrupted. Or when he stood too close behind her to write a connecting point to something she was scrawling onto the board. She hated how tall he was, hated that he was so casually invading her space. Hated that they both had terrible handwriting – hers because it was loopy and cursive and his because, well, she assumed it was because he was a doctor. They always had bad handwriting.
Other than the awkwardness, their first class went well, Maka and Soul lingering to wish her well in her new position. They also, a little fearfully, wished Stein well too. He was surprisingly gentle with them, a smile – genuine if you can believe it – softened his eyes. He even laughed, a soft little chuckle that would have made her toes curl in another life, and sent the weapon and meister pair on their way before they were late to their next class.
Stein’s gentle mood had not lasted more than a few seconds after Maka and Soul’s departure before he met Auriel’s gaze with that same wicked smirk he’d given her at the beginning of class. Then, slowly, deliberately he dug out his pack of cigarettes and his lighter, settling one between his teeth and lighting it without breaking eye contact.
Anger made her bristle, but she ignored him, turning to wipe the board clean before the next class came in. Arguing was futile with a meister. She had learned that years ago. Besides, if Stein wanted to contract lung cancer, more power to him.
“Auriiiiiiiii!” A sing-song cry came from the doorway.
Auriel cringed. There was no mistaking Spirit Albarn’s voice for anyone else’s. Black-clad arms slid around her from behind, swinging her into the air. Cries of “You’re alive!” and “You’re in one piece!” echoed throughout the classroom punctuated by “Put me down!” and “Get your paws off me, you creep!”.
When Spirit finally let her down Auriel spun on the heel of her boot and slapped him across the face with her open palm, careful not to let her rings scratch his face. He took it like a champ, probably expecting that sort of reaction, and rubbed his cheek sheepishly. He had never been good at regulating his emotions.
“How many times have I asked you not to grab me?” Auriel hissed, eyes flashing.
Spirit was tall but not as tall as Stein, so she didn’t have to crane her neck as much to look him in the eye.
“Sorry Auri,” he said placatingly. “I was just happy to see you.”
“Uh-huh, what do you want?”
“So cold! What have I done to deserve this?”
Auriel raised a brow at him, crossing her arms over her chest. Spirit’s gaze slid over to Stein, who was observing the pair with his cigarette between his fingers. Spirit blanched, flinching a bit when he met his old partner’s green-eyed gaze.
“Right…” he sighed, shoulders slumping. “That.”
“And ruining your marriage.” Auriel prodded his shin with the toe of her boot. “And making your daughter sad. And you still owe me twenty bucks.”
“Why did you have to bring that up?” Spirit groaned, head falling backward in despair.
“The money? Because it’s been two months and I’ve got groceries to buy.”
“I meant—” Spirit pinched the bridge of his nose. “Never mind, I can take you to lunch to make up for it.”
Auriel was about to respond in the negative, but never got the chance. Stein sidled up next to her and plopped one of his long arms around her shoulder, rumpling the black lace Peter Pan collar of her blouse. He smelled of smoke, coffee, and formaldehyde – something that should have grossed her out had he not always smelled that way. Michael hated that about him. Michael would have tried to rip Stein’s arm off for daring to touch her.
Michael had always been a bit too violent.
But he was a good man and she had failed him.
And then she ate his soul.
Now he could never rest.
Something brushed up against her, inside her chest cavity, and she shrank in on herself. It was nudging at her soul, searching, looking for something to gently stitch itself to. Auriel nearly cried out when she realized it was Stein’s soul.
“Sorry, Spirit,” Stein said, smiling amiably down at his former partner. “Auri and I have a lot of work to do, she’ll have to take a rain check.”
Spirit frowned up at Stein, thumbs in his belt loops, before turning back to Auriel. “That right Auri?”
She couldn’t bring herself to speak, let alone breathe. Stein’s soul was touching hers and she ached to let another invade that space, to fill up those lonely empty parts, but she couldn’t. Nausea shook her, sweat breaking out on her brow. Goddamn, she needed a drink.
“Auri?” Spirit pressed, leaning down to try and catch her eye.
Nodding, she yanked herself away from Stein’s arm and busied herself with scrubbing the chalkboard free again, despite its near pristine condition. His soul retreated, writhing next to her like an irritated cat’s tail.
“That’s okay, babe. We can go out this weekend.” Spirit teased her and she flipped him off over her shoulder.
“Sure, whatever,” she said in a too-bright tone, scrubbing at the same spot over and over. “I still want my twenty bucks though, ya hear?”
“O—kay,” Spirit groaned, his head falling back again. “But I get to pick the place.”
“So long as it isn’t one of your hostess clubs.”
“You’re so mean to me!”
“You deserve it.”
He sighed once again, placing a hand on her shoulder with a squeeze before heading toward the door. Then he paused. Stein had turned toward Auriel, his large hand reaching for her arm, but he dropped it when Spirit spoke again.
“Oh, right,” he started, turning back to the pair. “Lord Death wants weekly progress reports from the both of you. Individual and collective. Just let him know what day works for you both, and I’ll make myself scarce too.”
“Thanks, Spirit,” Auriel called, leaning around Stein.
He winked and was off, whistling merrily all the way. For some reason, Auriel felt guilty and more than a little sick. Michael had never minded her going out with Spirit, usually because Emiko – his ex-wife – was with them, but for some reason, she felt like Stein would disapprove. And that… she was shocked to feel a flicker of fear course through her at the thought. His disapproval scared her. A soft prodding to the side of her soul caused her head to snap up, Stein’s green eyes boring down into hers. It felt like he was holding her captive with his gaze alone.
“Auri?” he asked mockingly.
“Everyone calls me that,” she snapped, then shook her head. “Used to call me that. Spirit is nearly the only one now, except for Emiko and Marie.”
He hummed and took a drag off his cigarette. Then raised his chin to blow the smoke skyward, away from her. His expression was wry when he looked down again.
“Babe?”
That word, that single word made her soul quiver with anxiety. Spirit never touched her that way.
He was just a friend, just a friend, just a friend.
He didn't even see her as a girl, as a woman. He was only joking when he called her ‘babe’, even Emiko did it on occasion to tease her. They both would tease her and call her their spare girlfriend. It didn't mean anything.
Auriel's mind was racing a mile a minute. Calm, deescalate, obey.
“I don’t have to go anywhere this weekend,” she said hurriedly. “Spirit probably wants to get drunk and Death has probably put a ban on anyone serving me alcohol anywhere in the city so—”
Auriel’s ramble was cut off abruptly, one of Stein’s large fingers darting into her mouth and hooking on her lower jaw, effectively silencing her. Her strangled yelp echoed through the classroom.
“Shut up,” he said, shoulders shaking with laughter.
What the hell? She was going to bite his finger off! As a matter of fact, how dare he touch her at all? Meister or no, she wasn’t something to pet and play with as he pleased.
Slapping his hand away, Auriel pointed her own finger in Stein’s amused face. “You do that again, and you’ll lose your finger, you got that? Just because I’m your weapon doesn’t mean I want your mitts all over me!”
Stein cocked his head at her, giving his bolt a crank. “But you’re okay with Spirit putting his hands on you?”
“You’re joking,” she breathed, panic seizing her as she dropped her hand. “You’re not…”
“Jealous?” Stein interrupted, leaning into her space again, the tendrils of his soul caressing hers. “Not a bit. I just think it’s funny.”
“What is?”
“How jumpy I make you.”
A breath hissed through her teeth and before she could stop it, her hand cracked across Stein’s face. This slap was not as gentle as the one she had given Spirit. Auriel’s rings and nails raked across Stein’s face, leaving red marks that were surely not to dissipate anytime soon. Oh. Oh no.
Horror flooded her from the roots of her hair to her toes and Stein began to laugh.
Stein couldn’t help it. He couldn’t figure out what it was about Auriel that was getting under his skin, and he didn’t know why he was taking it out on her other than it was amusing to make her squirm. Some would say he had taken it too far, but to him, he hadn’t taken it far enough.
Finally, he had brought out that fiery gleam in those dulled green eyes. The force of her slap had knocked his head to the side, rattling his brain inside his skull and popping his jaw. More than that, it hurt. The laughing started before he could even think to turn the bolt in his head. It shook his body, clawing up his throat and into his brain, latching into the deep grooves and taking root in his mind.
He was on her before either of them could react, her body pinned beneath his on their shared desk. Auriel wasn’t a screamer. Even when he and Spirit had teamed up with her and Michael, and things had gotten dire, Auriel had never screamed. He had never heard her beg for her life – or anything.
What would her sweet, honeyed voice sound like begging him?
Begging him for what?
What did he want her to beg him for exactly?
Her body writhed beneath him, one of his hands pinning both her wrists to the desk, her legs circling his waist as she arched upwards to try and throw him off balance. He had forgotten she once took down the captain of the boys’ wrestling team on her own for picking on Azrael; her body was a weapon in more ways than one. Still, Stein had a good seventy pounds or so on her and he was strong.
“I’m sorry,” she ground out, struggling against his hold.
The words barely registered over the sound of his laughter, his free hand coming to his face in an attempt to stifle the sound. It was no use.
“I’m sorry!” she repeated, desperate, breathless.
Her face was flushed, her jaw taut and the muscles in her neck straining. He wondered what it would feel like to peel back the flesh of her face so he could see all her shining white teeth. Stein felt the madness pulsing in his brain, his heart thundering in his chest, his ears, his throat. His soul shot forward, stitching itself to hers in a desperate plea for sanity as one of his hands closed around her throat. She once again bucked beneath him. This time, he was thrown off balance, but not because of her struggling.
Her soul was so cold.
It struck him in the chest, filling him with despair. Hopelessness, utter hopelessness rushed through his body and the laughter grew and grew to a crescendo. He no longer cared if the other DWMA instructors would hear him – nor if Death himself could hear him. Nothing mattered.
Nothing mattered.
Nothing at all.
Click
Stein’s vision began to focus, his breath coming in great heaving gasps.
Click
Auriel was sitting upright; his hand was still at her neck – hecouldfeelherheartthundering – but he was no longer squeezing her trachea. A few of the buttons on her blouse had come undone. He noticed because he was practically eye-level with her breasts. His eyes flicked upward and there was a long scratch down the right side of her face, red and angry like the scratches on his own. The scratch and the buttons coming undone must have happened when she jerked her hand free.
Click
Oh. That felt right.
He felt himself fall forward, his glasses biting into the bridge of his nose when he collided with Auriel’s chest. Her sternum was bony against his face, but her breasts were still lush and soft, cushioning his descent. Her left hand was still clenched tightly in his hand, and his other gripped the back of her neck as he breathed in the smell of her. Amber, bergamot, and salt.
“I’m sorry,” she said, her grip tight on the bolt in his head.
He couldn’t move even if he wanted to. Her legs were still wrapped around him and they were clasping each other so tightly there would certainly be bruising. He wanted to see what colors her pretty pale skin would turn.
Click
“Thanks,” he rasped.
They were resonating, if only through his doing and his alone. She could feel his madness now, as he could feel that dark pit of despair hidden in her soul. With each turn of the bolt, she was bringing him back into sanity. With each tremble of her soul, she was guiding him. With each heaving breath, she was grounding him.
“I won’t hit you again,” she whispered and he felt something warm drip into his hair.
“Are you crying?” he asked, curious.
“Yes.”
“You don’t need to cry.”
“I hit you.”
“I retaliated. Is that why you’re crying?”
“No.”
She wasn’t lying. He could feel it, even as her soul struggled to get away.
“Then why?” he asked.
“Because…” she exhaled long and slow. “Your soul… it’s so, God it’s so warm. It’s static-y, like a warm blanket just out of the dryer. I've never felt anything like it before.”
Huh.
No one had ever described Stein’s soul that way. He wondered if it was just her, or if something in him had changed since he'd last partnered with someone.
“You can go out with Spirit if you want,” he said into her chest.
“Seriously?” she scoffed, but made no move to release him or push him away. “I’m not worried about that right now.”
“And I won’t put my fingers in your mouth again,” he promised.
“Thank you.”
“Unless you ask me really nicely.”
“Oh, that’s it!”
Auriel shoved at him with all her might, forgetting that her legs were still locked around him, and the force pushed them both to the floor. She landed atop him with her skirts hiked high around her legs, her lacy stockings and garters exposed for anyone walking by the classroom to see. She gave an indignant little squeak when she landed atop him, her hair falling out of its pins and floating around her shoulders like a pink cloud. Involuntarily – because he never would've done it on purpose – his hand reached up and brushed it away from her neck, a lock catching between his thumb and forefinger. It felt as silky as it looked.
“I ain’t never going to ask you to put any part of you in my mouth, Doc!” she snapped when she found her voice, struggling to stand.
Her color was still high, staining her cheeks prettily, the cream of her breasts peeking through her open neckline now colored a vibrant pink. His hands clamped down on her hips, preventing her from standing. Her eyes widened indignantly, and her hands pressed against his chest, trying to force herself upward.
“You sure about that?” Stein teased.
“Let me up,” she said threateningly.
“Gonna hit me again?” He grinned up at her.
Her soul gave a curious little tremble when he did that, a jolt of fear shooting through their connection… but so did something else. Something so fleeting he couldn't get a read on it. Then it was gone, replaced by something a little dark, a little dangerous. It set his teeth on edge in anticipation.
“Not unless you want it,” she murmured, eyes dark and face unreadable.
For the first time all day, Stein felt his mind go blank. Auriel took that opportunity to pull his leaden hands from her hips, attempting to stand, but she didn't make it before the next round of students walked into the classroom. Their murmurs about the rumors of their beloved Ms. Saint and a mysterious new teacher died on their lips when they saw the pair tangled on the floor. Auriel didn’t even try to defend herself, just stood, directed the students to their seats, and dropped her face into her hands, Stein laughing all the while.