Ben squinted to see Gabrielle in the moonlight. She looked panicked and frustrated, her magenta hair put up in a messy bun. Her eyes gazed at him in pity, and Ben remembered that he was covered in blood.

Numbly, he raised a hand to his head, stroking at a particularly sore spot. Memories of nearly being eaten alive flashed in his mind as he touched it, mixed with the overwhelming urge to never eat again.

Not after what he'd seen in Chester's throat.

"Ben," said Ewan. His voice was soft. "We need to see if Charlie's still in your closet. Right now."

It took Ben a second, but eventually, he composed himself. "Yeah," he choked out. He gave Gabrielle a once-over before nodding and beginning to jog into his house.

It occurred to him that Tiana should be back. But there were no signs of her, nothing to even remotely indicate she'd come back. Ben blinked away the thought and headed up to his room, throwing open the door.

Charlie stood there, staring out the window. He turned to look at the three standing in the door, his movements slow and uncertain. His eyes grew wide at the sight of them, frightened and defensive. Almost as though he was ready to fight. His eyes stayed pinned to Ben in a sort of unsure glare.

Something glinted in his hand. Ben's eyes slowly drifted down to find the silver gun Ben had stashed in his closet.

Ben tensed, clenching his fists. He wasn't sure how he would fight back against a gun, seeing as he hadn't exactly mastered his newfound ability. But if Charlie was going to attack, he was ready to defend.

"Hey," snapped Ewan, side-glancing at Ben. "Lower your hackles, alright? He's harmless - just been tortured for a bit." His eyes flicked over to Charlie, and he sighed, approaching hesitantly. Almost as if the man from Hell was a frightened animal. "Charlie?"

The boy's eyes snapped to the demon. He sucked in a sharp breath before clearing his throat, and his voice broke as he spoke. "Y-Yes." His voice trembled.

"You've been in Hell for a while, haven't you?" asked Ewan. Eventually, he got between Charlie and the other two. "Been tortured for... how long?"

"F-Four months," stuttered Charlie. His gaze slid very slowly back to Ben. "He killed me... every day... for four months...and  I had to take it... e-everyday... because I was helpless..."

Ben swallowed weakly. Of course. Because Charlie didn't know who actually killed him. And he died only knowing that Ben was the last person he'd seen, the only person capable of killing him in that moment.

"Maybe you should sit down," advised Ewan. "We can talk about this and figure something out."

Charlie scoffed, and he lifted the gun to point at Ben. Ben didn't flinch, though, and rather looked right down, passed the barrel, right into Charlie's eyes. "So he gets to live a happy, peaceful life after he killed me one-hundred and eighteen times? He gets to... exist like some saint, even though he murder-"

"It was me," snapped Ewan. He licked his lips in paranoia, an arm lifted as if he should block the bullet from hitting Ben with it if Charlie shot. "I killed you, alright? And the person torturing you - Ben, the person killing you for four months? Was an overly gifted demon that dug into your deepest, darkest wraths and drew them out to torture you."

Charlie was quiet in reply, tears in his eyes. He still looked terrified and angry but soon he exhaled and dropped the gun - it clattered to the floor. The tension rolled out of Ben's shoulders.

"Alright," said Ewan, smiling in relief. "There's another little problem here, and that is that you might get possessed by a very powerful demon capable of not only burning your mortal body beyond repair but also capable of taking over the entirety of it to where you have no control of what you do and only get to watch through your own eyes as someone kills everything you've ever known, extinguishing any desire you may have to live."

After a moment of awkward silence consisting of Charlie gaping like a fish and Gabrielle glaring at Ewan, Ben sighed. "I'm gonna shower."

Stripping himself of the bloodied sweater, he ignored the laser-like stares in his back and threw it into the trash can. Then he headed for the bathroom, shutting the door behind him.

Maybe things were just going too fast for him, but he was feeling very light-headed and he couldn't comprehend his own thoughts. He hadn't even had a second to register what he'd seen down the Gula's throat and now there was the idea of another demon coming to the Surface. And maybe Wrath was coming to kill him too, but why? What reason did any demons have to kill him?

His thoughts started stringing together, so he turned on the faucet and filled his hands with water, splashing it on his face. The ice cold water felt both outrageously painful on his wound and refreshing on his cheeks.

Then he rubbed his face numbly, and when he opened his eyes, he found he'd only smeared the blood further. Damn... that didn't look good...

A choked gasp escaped him as he collapsed back, his vision blurring. It was all a lot... God, he just needed to sit down... He needed to process what was going on and he needed to breathe before this episode exploded into something else, something Ewan would notice.

Ben slid down the wall, holding his head in his hands. This was all too much. Way too much...

Just think about it. Process it. Tell it to yourself and accept it.

He didn't know if that was his voice or... someone else's entirely.

"A... A demon from Hell is here... a-and I have to help him," stammered Ben, his voice a hushed whisper. "I also nearly died." He took a deep breath to center himself. "A... v-very strong demon from Hell came to kill me. B-But I beat him and I saw-" He choked up.

Saw what, Ben? hissed the voice in his head. This was certainly him. What did you see down that monster's throat?

"I saw thousands of... d-dead people... dying," he breathed. The images flashed in his mind over and over, turning in his mind like a Ferris wheel of death. "I heard them screaming and begging for my help as if I could... s-save them from being eaten. Their bodies were... mutilated, a-and there were broken, torn... l-limbs and heads everywhere..." He licked his lips, vision blurring, but he stared straight ahead. "It was like they didn't know... Th-They didn't know they were already dead."

The feeling of panic was gone, now replaced with dread that sat in his stomach and he knew it would never leave. Because part of him would always know there were dead people in the Gula's stomach, unknowing of the fact that they were beyond saving.

"Ben?" called Gabrielle. "Are you okay?"

Ben extended his hand to push himself up but groaned when he felt the excruciating pain in his arm. His broken arm... of course.

He put a hand to his wound, unsure quite of how to heal himself. But he focused his energy on that, forgetting - to his best ability - about the Gula's throat.

And through some pain, his bone and skin were healed, leaving only a few light scars.

This time, he got up with more success.

"I'm fine," called Ben. He looked at himself in the mirror.

He'd known he looked terrified before, but actually seeing himself was a whole different thing. His blue eyes were wide and both angry and scared, just like Charlie's, and he stared at himself with disdain. 

Blood was soaked into his skin, all across his torso, and his arms were covered in scars from his broken bones. He had a particularly long, gross scar directly in the middle of his stomach. It made Ben sick at the sight of it. 

The worst part was just how much blood was on his face. It was smeared and still dripping from the wound in his head. The sight wasn't hard for him, as he dealt with it practically daily. But the idea of where it'd come from was... unnerving.

Placing a shaky hand to his head, he managed to heal himself, then he stripped himself of the rest of his clothes and got in the shower.

When he got out, dressed in a burnt orange wool sweater and sweatpants, his hair still wet, he entered to an oddly calming scene.

Gabrielle and Charlie were sat on Ben's bed, talking, and the boy looked better. Ewan was in Ben's chair, feet propped up on the desk as he listened to them and occasionally butted in.

Eyes turned to him when he opened the door.

"Charlie is going to come home with me," said Gabrielle after an awkward period of silence. She looked timid but happy, and she spoke with her gentle French accent. "We thought it would be best if Ewan stayed here to protect you tonight. Just in case."

Ben shifted, glancing from Ewan to Gabrielle to Charlie. At least the man seemed docile now. He just acted... scared. His brown-eyed gaze hung over his shoulder timidly, as if his back could protect him if Ben decided to attack.

"I don't think I need help," mumbled Ben. "I've got... shields, remember?"

"I'm not leaving," said Ewan. He shrugged. "No matter what you say. I'm going to be planted in this chair all night."

Ben sighed through his nose, meeting Ewan's careless gaze with a narrow-eyed look of his own.

The bed shifted as Gabrielle got up. "Well, I'm going to take him home, then. Will I see you at school tomorrow? Both of you?"

"If Charlie doesn't kill me," mumbled Ben, putting his hands in his pockets. "I think so."

Gabrielle hesitated before nodding and taking Charlie by the hand. The man flinched at the touch as though he'd been burned, but gradually he held her hand back. As Gabrielle passed Ben, she paused and kissed him on the chin. 

Tingles raced through his skin, lingering even after she was gone. 

Once the door shut, Ben turned his gaze to Ewan, narrowing his eyes. "Alright, get out."

"I told you, Ben. I'll be here until tomorrow morning and even then I'm following you to school. I'm here to protect you," Ewan threw his hands up as if to imply it wasn't even of his own free will.

"That wasn't your state of mind when you had me get the Enchantment from Chester," said Ben. "Besides, I can defend myself."

"With the little handgun you had in your closet? Or the powers you've only used once? Or, excuse me-" Ewan motioned to Ben's healed arm and head "- three times."

Ben shifted his weight, a sort of defensiveness filling his throat. "I've taken care of myself alone for four years."

"Against demons with abilities beyond your own?"

He didn't even feel the need to mention that he had gotten his arm broken - no, crushed twice in one day and had still managed to defeat the man who'd done it despite being at every disadvantage. "Ewan," Ben began, "how are you going to-"

"I crushed Charlie's throat for you," Ewan vouched. "A-And I burned both my hands trying to save you from Gabrielle. Please," he continued, "just... let me do this."

Seeing the earnest look in Ewan's - Stirling's - his eyes, the fight fled from Ben. Drawing in a slow sigh, he said, "Alright, fine. You can protect me tonight."

"Thank you," sang Ewan, taking his feet off Ben's desk. His eyes traveled around the room, landing in interest on the television on the wall. With a bounce in his step, he strolled over to it and, after examining it with mild interest, asked, "So what is this?"

"A television," Ben answered flatly. "Where people watch movies?"

"Well, they do look like they were made a little bit after 225 A.C., hm?"

Ben picked at some lint on his sweater. "You know, I've never heard of your empire."

The demon only shrugged in reply. "Well, it was a bad time period, so I'm not surprised."

Ben mumbled, "They teach us about Hitler."

"Ooh, he's a fan-favorite. Lots of demons enjoy his company. I think a friend of mine got the pleasure of torturing him for those thousand years and now he's... well, I can't even think. What would Hitler be doing in Hell?" 

"Drink tea with Stalin?" Ben suggested.

Ewan chortled in reply. "Possibly," he said. "Though, what do they teach you about my time period? I'm curious now."

"Rome?" Ben thought. "Not Ireland, though. I've never... heard of you or your dad."

"That's slightly underwhelming, honestly," Ewan admitted. "It was... it was a very bad life that I lived..." The other went quiet, looking down at the drawer beneath the TV absently. 

"I'm sorr-"

Mindlessly, Ewan pulled the drawer out and his eyes instantly went wide with interest. "What are these?"

Ben hesitated, thinking of anything he could tell Ewan except movies. The other would more than likely want to watch them and Ben wasn't quite into that idea, but he doubted the other would settle for sitting in silence.

Slowly, he strolled over to the drawer. "Alright," he grumbled, "move."

Ewan scurried to his feet and stepped back.

Unfortunately, Ben stopped collecting movies after his dad told the public his mom was dead. Even before then, he wasn't much of a movie collector. All he really had were movies his mom liked - Disney movies.

"Cinderella," offered Ben, half-joking.

"Like the Brothers Grimm? Isn't that before your time?"

"They... yes," Ben shut the drawer. How dumb would it be for a crazy old demon and an eighteen-year-old boy to watch a Disney princess movie together? "Yeah."

"Hey," snapped Ewan. "We're watching it, right?"

Caught off guard, Ben went silent. He gazed at Ewan, thinking of a possible retort. But nothing came to mind. Perhaps Cinderella was a fine way to pass the time. Not like Ben had to pay attention, anyway.

"What the Hell?!" yelled Ewan. He lunged forward, tears in his eyes. "Who the Hell would do that?"

Ben set his head back, sighing softly through his nose. Popcorn lay scattered across his lap from where Ewan had tossed it to the side in an outburst. He'd stopped trying to pick it up after the third time and now just accepted the fact that he should've drawn his legs up after the first time.

"This is literally the third time you've seen it," whispered Ben, staring at the ceiling. "Wait until you see Sleeping Beauty... And what happened to you being 'planted' in the chair all night?"

Ignoring the second part of Ben's statement, Ewan said, "I already know I prefer the Brothers Grimm version. This is awful. I mean, the - what did you say - the animation? I think that's wonderful and all, but... why does her dad die?" Ewan sat beside him on the bed, cross-legged.

"Because that's how Walt reimagined it," mumbled Ben. He closed his eyes, sighing quietly.

"Who's Walt? And why is he so morbid?"

"Aren't you the demon that tortured people for 800 years?"

"I - well, that's because that was my job."

"And doesn't the Brother's Grimm version involve them cutting off parts of their feet?"

"N- yes, maybe..."

Ben opened one eye and peered skeptically at Ewan, who shut his mouth in reply, sighing.

They were silent for another few minutes as the movie continued. Soon Ewan cleared his throat and shifted, causing Ben to open his eyes and side glance at Ewan.

"Are we going to talk about this afternoon?" asked the demon.

"Is it still Sunday?" mumbled Ben. It seemed like today had gone by so fast with so many events that it just must have been Monday, or at least Monday morning.

Ewan's eyes slid over to the clock mounted above Ben's door. "Well, no. It's one in the morning, but you know what I mean, Ben."

Ben closed his eyes again. "I didn't think there was anything to talk about."

There was silence. Then Ewan turned to Ben, causing Ben to sit up, raising an eyebrow. Popcorn fell off of him but he ignored it.

"I just..." Ewan shrugged.

"You said you understood," Ben said lowly.

"A-And I do," added Ewan urgently, eyes wide. Quickly, he calmed down. "Ben, I do. I... have the body of Stirling. The boy you... killed. But I know - well, I think that isn't the only reason."

Ben raised an eyebrow again. He didn't know where Ewan was going with this but he had a feeling it wasn't going to go in Ewan's favor.

Ewan hesitated, looking to the side. Then he met Ben's gaze. "It's because I'll leave once the Enchantment is filled, isn't it?" 

Ben didn't reply and the demon continued, "You're scared everyone will leave you. So you don't... you don't ever bother, do you?"

This got a snort from Ben. "I'll mention that to my therapist."

"Ben," whined Ewan, "I'm serious. I..." He exhaled through his nose. "What if we just... enjoy it while it lasts?"

"I don't do that," whispered Ben, practically cutting Ewan off. He looked the demon dead in the eye with a firm gaze. Not a glare, but something similar. "Ewan, I can't... I can't give my heart to someone only for them to... u-up and leave."

There was a pause, and then Ewan breathed, "Like Tiana."

Unable to reply, Ben sat back against the headboard. Slowly, he sank down until he was laying down on the bed, staring at the ceiling. He didn't know what to say. Didn't know if he should be telling Ewan off, making him get out of the bed, or if he should be trying to sleep. Trying to ignore it, like he usually did.

Before he could consciously make a decision, Ewan shifted and rested his head on Ben's chest.

Ben's heart began to pound as his gaze dropped to the boy resting against him. His mind flashed to the day in the bathroom, where Ben had pummeled Stirling to death. The image of his dead body burned into his head and he yanked a hand out from under Ewan, going to push him off.

The other simply hugged him closer, refusing to move.

It took Ben a second. His mind whirled with different thoughts, ideas, feelings, and he wanted nothing more than to just silence it all. 

And gradually it did silence the more he felt Ewan's heart - or Stirling's heart - pounding against his chest. Closing his eyes, he felt Ewan's heart. Opening his eyes, he knew it was Stirling.

So he closed his eyes. He felt Ewan's body against his own, and he allowed his arm to lay over Ewan's shoulder.

Holding him closer rather than pushing him away.