Laying with Ben was the closest Ewan had ever gotten to Heaven. Feeling the boy's chest rise and fall under his head, feeling his arm wrapped around him, accepting him. He wasn't sure what it meant in regards to their relationship, but that wasn't important. Not when he could just enjoy the moment with Ben.
There was always the thought that lingered in his head, the reminder that this - whatever this was with Ben - was a bad idea because he shouldn't even consider forming a relationship with a mortal. It wouldn't end well.
But really, he didn't care.
And gradually, he closed his eyes too, and he just listened to Ben's heartbeat until he fell asleep.
He didn't have dreams. Not in the normal sense, at least. Most people, he vaguely remembered, dreamed about things that never actually happened to them. They dreamed about things they were scared of, things their brain was subconsciously trying to put together.
But when Ewan fell asleep, he was sent to an entirely different world. Somewhere with lovely, grassy fields that swayed in a gentle breeze and the sky was mint blue with pink clouds strolling through it effortlessly.
Tonight a woman found him. He only knew it was a woman because of her lovely, bright voice, but he wasn't able to see her or feel her. He was stuck staring at the sky which, really, was no problem for him. A gentle grin came to his lips and the woman and he began talking about Ben. He assumed she was his subconscious, as all she did was compliment the boy and enjoy the idea of him, and they bathed in the thought of seeing him soon.
He woke up to Ben whispering his name and jostling him gently. Slowly, Ewan sat up and blinked a few times before directing his gaze to the boy above him.
His hair was an adorable mess and his eyes looked groggy. Both of which made Ewan swoon, but he kept that part to himself.
"Did you sleep alright?" Ewan asked. "I didn't... I didn't keep you up, did I?"
Ben was quiet for a second before saying, "It was a... a really good sleep." He had one of those strangely attractive voices men had in the morning. A deep tone lined with exhaustion but pleasantness. That, coupled with Ben's comment made Ewan smother a grin.
"How long does it take you to get to school?" asked Ewan, climbing out of bed.
Ben glanced at the clock too, then grinned. "Ten minutes, maybe," he whispered. Tossing the blankets off himself, he got up.
The sound of popcorn littering the floor rang in both of their ears, and Ewan snickered quietly. He then helped himself to Ben's closet, opening it and previewing the lack of diversity.
All Ben really had was sweaters, sweatpants, and jeans. Which was a very difficult thing for Ewan to see, since he was used to having a plethora of options when it came to clothing. Usually, of course, he ended up trekking around in a robe, shirtless. He did dress up, though, when he was torturing someone. Usually, in a tuxedo - he liked those.
"We need to go shopping," said Ewan. He huffed, picking out a thin black-and-white plaid sweater.
"Careful," warned Ben, narrowing his eyes, "you might earn Charity for us." The boy flicked the Enchantment on his chest.
"Are you mocking me?" asked Ewan. "Again?"
Ben didn't miss a beat. "Absolutely."
Ewan grinned, putting on the sweater and tossing his shirt to the side. Then he turned to Ben, who still wore the orange sweater but now had on dark skinny jeans, and he was currently picking lingering popcorn pieces off himself. How did someone rock burnt orange? It was perhaps the worst color on the entire spectrum and yet Ben looked like an angel in it.
It seemed Ben caught him staring because when Ewan glanced up to his face, he was blushing deeply. He shared a resemblance with a deer caught in headlights - something he'd learned from a Sinner who killed himself after he hit a woman with his car. Ben was frozen in place, piece of popcorn in hand.
"What?" he asked softly. His voice was gentle and it wavered nervously.
Ewan was silent for a second before shrugging and smiling. "You're just... adorable."
Ben swallowed weakly in return, staying silent. Eventually, he spared a small, nervous grin, and he returned to his picking until Ewan decided to step in and help. Taking one stride forward, he picked off pieces of popcorn, occasionally meeting eyes with Ben.
It felt like one of those scenes in the Disney movies where something should happen but nothing did. Their hands didn't even bump.
Once the two were ready, and the popcorn was said and done, they headed out to his motorbike. Ben was looking around the halls as they headed down to the front door, but he never found what he was looking for.
Rather, who.
The ride to school was happy for some reason. Although neither of them talked, it felt like things were in place.
Even school felt exciting, somehow. Ewan hopped off the bike and took off his helmet, glancing over at the school. His gaze gradually drifted to Charlie and Gabrielle, who were getting out of her car and talking.
"Ben!" called Ezra. The boy jogged up to the two, cane tapping against the ground. "Hey. I really think you should fix your brakes."
The boy let out a sigh of irritated agreement, hooking his helmet on the handle and pocketing his keys. "I'm glad that that's how you recognize me."
"Ezra," Ewan greeted, butting himself into their conversation. Just to let the boy know he was there.
The other boy tilted his head curiously. "Did he ride to school with you?" he asked.
"That's a long story," replied Ben.
"I'm sure I can hear it," Ezra said, grinning almost nervously, "as your best friend."
Ben seemed to understand whatever Ezra was implying. "A-Absolutely," he said. He nodded quickly, clearing his throat. Ben almost looked ashamed, and Ewan's heart wrenched. "Yeah. Yes."
"Alright," Ezra whispered in relief.
Ben cast Ewan a glance before heading inside with his friend.
"Cool," mumbled Ewan, narrowing his eyes. "Cool, cool."
His eyes flicked to Gabrielle and Charlie, who were walking inside too. The boy turned to glance at Ewan and the two made eye contact.
Chills shot down Ewan's spine when he saw the other bring his hand from his pocket, an Enchantment dangling from it. Almost as if he was showing it off.
He was possessed.
And as Ewan shifted to tell Gabrielle, to yell to Gabrielle that Charlie was possessed, the demon fist-pumped in the air behind the two, flashing a thumbs-up to Ewan.
He thought they were together in this.
He had homeroom with the basketball kids, but he wasn't in the mood to talk. He had to come up with a plan.
It was obvious Charlie - or, Wrath, rather - would be willing to kill Gabrielle whenever he had even slight motivation. Whether it be at school or somewhere else, he was willing. That's just how he was.
Was it worth it to keep a secret about it? Keep Wrath out of Ben's hair, make him not worry about it, just... deal with it on his own?
But what if Gabrielle died? Or Ben? Was it possible to get banished from Hell? What would happen when The Devil found out he'd failed? And what-
"Stirling," hissed George, nudging him. "You look terrible, man."
"What?" snapped Ewan. His head shot up and he gazed at the other absently before realizing he probably looked terrified. Wiping his face, he cleared his throat. "Thanks - er, sorry."
"What's on your mind, buddy?" asked Trent.
For some reason, this hadn't been how he'd expected high school. Kids that cared for each other? The way Ben had killed Stirling, the way Charlie tried to kill Ben... he'd thoughts things had gone barbaric. Even considering how Charlie had treated who he'd thought was Stirling-
Shit. Charlie.
"I've just... everyone might be... in danger," mumbled Ewan. "And I can't help them because the person putting them in danger is very strong."
Trent snorted. "Just sneak around them," he suggested. "Save the world and stab the guy in the back."
Ewan went pale at the suggestion of murder, but upon further look to Trent and George's faces, he realized the two didn't think he was talking about real people. They thought this was a game. Because most highschool students didn't talk about murder with a grin.
Most.
He exhaled slowly through his nose, deciding to accept their mortal metaphor.
"I can't," he explained, "because he's still a person. I'm trying to keep him alive. If I can get everyone away from him, I can keep him alive."
"Paralyze him?" offered George. "Or even just distract him. Do you have more than one person in your party?"
This brought Ewan hesitance. The answer was yes, of course, he did - he had Ben. But he didn't want to bring Ben into this. He just wanted to take care of Wrath silently. Under the table, more like.
"Probably... not," Ewan decided. "Let's... Let's just say I don't."
"Alright," said Trent, grinning from ear to ear. His eyes were lit with interest. "What do you have in your bag?"
Ewan squinted, trying to understand if Trent meant his actual bag or some metaphorical bag, like a hidden trick up his sleeve. He went with the latter. "I can... well, I have some powers. Levitation... Invisibility... Fire, if I try hard enough..."
"And what can he do?" asked Trent. "What is he?"
This was the bad part. The worst part. "He's a demon. He... He can set anyone's greatest wraths loose. Make them absolute bat-shit crazy if they can't properly release their rage. He can break bones by snapping his fingers - he's very strong, too, very strong. And... he's... he can bend metal... Also, he's very - he's good at moving? He's fluid - fluent, maybe? He's... a very good shot, too. What's that called?"
"Dexterity? So he's got like, a natural 20 for dexterity?" George offered.
"Yes," Ewan concluded, "sure. And he's... there's something else, I can't remember... oh. Yeah, it doesn't even matter."
Naturally, in Hell, Wrath had the ability to morph his skin into any material he touched as well as manipulate his skin into weapons. One second he'd be standing there, fleshy hands and all, and the next second he'd have a sword coming right out his wrist, and it'd be wrenched into your stomach.
But Wrath was in a mortal's skin. He couldn't manipulate himself.
That didn't mean he was completely harmless, but it did mean he wasn't as scary as Ewan originally thought.
However, the thing with Overseers was that the rules changed for them entirely. Once they became an Overseer, they were given six outrageously strong abilities that replaced their old ones, as well as the ability of their Sin. For Gluttony, that had been unleashing people's desire to indulge themselves.
So what was Ewan missing? Which power did he not account for?
"Tell me what to do," said Ewan.
"Just... Okay, ready?" asked George.
Ewan tensed, getting ready to hear the plan.
"You just need to get close to him, make him weak, then... save him and run."
... Less helpful than he'd thought.
Ewan gave an emotionless smile and glanced down at his book. "Sounds good."
The bell rang, and Ewan stood up before his stomach flipped.
His next class was with Charlie.
The door to the classroom was open in an almost ominous sort of fashion even though kids were spilling in and out of it. Ewan recalled the fact that he didn't have to go in there. He didn't have to talk to Wrath - didn't even have to acknowledge he existed.
The other part of him told him he did, in fact, need to. Wrath thought they were together on this, so he had to act like they were.
Hesitantly, he entered the classroom.
There sat Charlie, a malicious grin on his lips. Slowly, he tapped the seat beside him with a long, pale finger.
Of course, if he wanted to talk to Wrath, he had to sit by him. No matter how gross it felt or was.
So Ewan sat down beside Wrath, setting his books down. Then he just stared at his desk, unsure of what to say.
It wasn't that Wrath and Ewan had ended on bad terms - the problem was that they'd left on great terms. Wrath had been an idol for Ewan and they'd bonded quickly. They were friends.
But Wrath clearly had ill intent with Ben, Gabrielle... everyone. And that made things awkward.
"I've missed you," purred Wrath, tilting his head to the side. He grinned slyly. "You've changed quite a bit, haven't you?"
Ewan sighed through his nose, suppressing his rage. Wrath had a natural aura that made people tense and irritated. It had taken Ewan roughly half a century to get over it, but now he was finding it harder to control himself.
"I guess you didn't have much choice in who you got put in, hm?" murmured Wrath. He looked down at himself. "Well, neither did I. Though this body isn't half bad. Good muscles, you know... Lean, tall... Nice, short hairc-"
"What are you doing here, Wrath?" hissed Ewan, making eye contact with the demon.
It felt surreal to look into someone's eyes and see someone else. And it wasn't the loving sort of 'I see your father in your eyes.' It was 'I see a higher, chaotic power in your eyes and I know you're in there, helpless.'
Wrath's eyes widened a bit, and he looked confused. "I'm here to take care of someone who I've found is just like me..." He hummed quietly, tilting his head again. Probably soaking up Ewan's confused look. "Let me put it this way. Do you know why I never tell anyone my real name? And why I destroyed every demon who knew it?"
Ewan was silent.
"Because my name gives me a strange relationship with the big man upstairs." He shifted, facing Ewan. "My name is -"
"Well don't tell me," hissed Ewan. "I don't want to be destroyed when I get back to Hell."
Wrath snorted. "Oh, you won't. Trust me." He went quiet, then continued. "My name is Nathaniel. Do you know what that name means?"
Ewan simply raised an eyebrow. Part of this whole weird monologue coming from Wrath was expected. Wrath was known to be a story-teller. In fact, Ewan had sat in on many of his stories and became entranced with his words to the point where he couldn't-
"It means 'Gift of God,' or 'God has Given,' Ewan," said Nathaniel. He scoffed, pointing to himself in disbelief. "And I'm the damn King of Wrath."
And as he spoke those words, Ewan felt his body stiffen up. It became numb and as did his mind to the point where he couldn't manage a clear thought.
"Apparently," whispered Nathaniel, "Ben is just as contradictory as I am. Funny how that works, isn't it?"
Ewan wanted to ask so badly... something. But he couldn't grasp the thought. Couldn't even begin to fathom what he'd ask or how he'd ask it. His body felt exhausted.
Nathaniel leaned forward, lowering his voice even further. "I'm here to wipe out the threat, I think. But I didn't get a lot of information. I'm just... I'm here to help you, that's what He said." It looked briefly as though he was done talking, but he leaned forward again. "So we're going to see who can kill Ben first, alright? And it isn't just about efficiency... it's about presentation."
And then he stopped talking.
It would be another ten minutes before the paralysis wore off.
When it did wear off, Ewan let out a hoarse cough. He didn't know what to think, even though he could understand his own thoughts. He remembered the specifics of the conversation - something about his name, something about killing Ben, something about presentation. Something about a challenge that terrified him.
His eyes slid over to Nathaniel, who had taken to acting like Luther had before he'd died. Ewan sighed through his nose and ran a hand through his hair, sitting forward.
How was he supposed to save Ben? How was he supposed to make sure everyone survived this, even Charlie?
It would be so easy to just kill Charlie again. But the chances The Devil would let Elizabeth have Charlie's soul back - let alone any soul - was slim to none. Probably purely none, actually. Which meant they really had to save Charlie's life.
But if Nathaniel practically had checkmate, how in the world was Ewan supposed to win? If Nathaniel had Ben right under his thumb, ready to make a scene of his death, how was he supposed to win this?
One option was pretending Ben was dead. But, of course, Nathaniel would know he wasn't dead when he went back to Hell.
He stifled a sigh at the thought. Ben had been very helpful last time, but maybe it was good that he wasn't here this time. Now he couldn't risk his life. Couldn't almost die.
This time, Ewan was going to save Ben.
He dwelled on the thought, on ideas of what he could do to save everyone, but nothing initially came to mind. Wrath had power - he could do about anything he really wanted to do. Metal could become bullets, swords could start flying into stomachs or heads. His ability could knock someone unconscious if he talked for long enough.
His ability could kill if he talked long enough.
The easy solution, the one that didn't matter because it was so easy, was taking away Nathaniel's power. Taking his Enchantment and sending him back to Hell, demoting him in the process.
Get close to him.
The supposedly meaningless words from George that now suddenly blossomed into a plan to save everyone.
The bell rang. Ewan shot from his seat, picking up his bag and heading out. He had a free period next, as did Charlie, and it was a game of chance on whether or not Nathaniel was going to make a move.
He found himself on the baseball field, surrounded by chattering students who had no idea what was going on. It was... astounding, almost, how ignorant they were. But then again, they had no reason to know. No chance of knowing, really.
"Ewan," mumbled a voice behind him. Nathaniel's American accent. It made him whirl, facing the other and sighing softly. "What can I-"
"What if we worked together?" Ewan asked, lowering his voice. He looked the other firmly in the eyes, lying straight through his teeth as he said, "I want to help you kill Ben."