The rubble was his fault.
The dead bodies on the ground. The people that didn't ask to be caught up in a war that they weren't even aware of.
He didn't even know why he was fighting it. It seemed it would have been easier to off himself - to not come back from Limbo. It was just Ewan that brought him back.
He breathed out through his nose, slowly approaching the two dead bodies that were familiar to him. Ezra and Charlie.
The two boys that had helped him change, really, the two boys that had been there for him now because Charlie had changed. And now he was dead. He would have had a life of peace and happiness if not for Ben. If not for Ben.
"Fuck!" he yelled, the wind beginning to pick up. Rage engulfed in. Guilt, dread, pain.
If only he hadn't done anything. If only he'd stayed in Limbo. If only he'd done nothing at all, Ezra and Charlie would be alive.
Ezra. The boy in Heaven, without a doubt. The boy who'd been there since step one in Ben's life. The boy that Ben could always lean on. Now dead because Ben had happened to him.
He collapsed to his knees in front of the sightless boy. There was no way this was the end. No way Ezra was just dead because Gregory had made it so. Elizabeth had wished people back to life - couldn't Ben?
Couldn't he bring him back?
Trembling, he placed a hand on Ezra's chest. If he just healed him enough... if he just tried his hardest to bring him back to life, couldn't he?
The force fields appeared, hovering over Ezra's bloody body. And Ben urged them to bring the boy back. He begged everything in him to find the power, the strength to just bring him back. To make him exist again. To let him breathe again.
To let Ben say goodbye, at least.
"Ben," whispered an Irish tone. "He's gone."
But he couldn't accept that. He wasn't gone. He was going to come back. He was going to sit up and tell Ben it was fine, everything was fine, it was okay, he was alive now...
"Ben," croaked Ewan. "Please."
"He isn't gone," snapped Ben.
He pressed harder. The shields glowed white, indicating they were doing their job, but nothing was changing. Nothing was healing.
Tears came to Ben's eyes. He tried harder. He put his life into trying to revive Ezra. Put everything he had into it until he couldn't think of anything but the boy on the ground.
And it looked, on the outside, like nothing changed. It looked like Ezra was dead and wasn't coming back but inside - inside of Ben - he could feel a change. A shift in skin and a reverse in time. Wounds reopened. Blood began to leak from scars on his body - every scar he'd ever gotten began to pry itself open and bleed, and Ben choked out a groan of pain but he knew it was working. Something was happening - something had to be happening.
"Ben?" asked Ewan. A hand rested on Ben's shoulder but he paid no mind - he just kept going. "Ben... Satan - Ben, don't-"
The most relieving sound in the world was Ezra gasping for breath and sobbing.
Tears flooded Ben's vision and he sat back on his knees, ignoring the hands on his neck. He focused only on the blond boy coughing up some blood. To the blond boy who was alive, sitting in front of him, breathing.
Ben didn't know how to move. He didn't know what to say or think. And he just exhaled slowly, feeling every pain in his body cease. Even though he was still bleeding, even though blood was covering him, even though he was sure his wounds would never close, he felt happy.
He felt fine.
A heavy hand was pressed on his head and Ben only chuckled as Ezra felt Ben's matted, curly mops. "You're not dead, dude..."
Ben let out a breathy sigh before glancing over to Ewan, who looked terrified. "We need to get you healed," he said firmly.
"No," Ben said.
He looked groggily over to Charlie, planting a hand in the ground to steady himself. "Let me just... l-let me just heal hi-"
Two pairs of hands grabbed at him, pulling him away from the other boy on the ground. He collapsed back, the wounds on his back seeming to ignite with fire.
"No," Ewan pleaded. "Ben, fix yourself. Now."
Ben rolled his eyes, trying to concentrate on something but he couldn't really. His head was all confused and noises and lights were distorted. He blinked, trying to squint, but he couldn't focus on anything.
"Hey, Ben?" called Ewan. "Ben."
"Huh?" asked Ben. He lifted his gaze to the silhouette of Ewan. Of Stirling. One of them. Both of them, actually. All in the same person... how gross...
"Heal yourself. Come on."
"Yup," Ben said. "Yes. I can."
"Do it," Ewan hissed.
"Yes."
Ben slapped a hand onto his stomach, a shock of pain radiating through him, and he remembered. It was the stab wound from Charlie. The night of the game when he'd been drunk and dumb and Charlie stabbed him, wanting to kill him.
Shit had seriously gone down that night.
His shaky hands created the shields and they glowed grey as they pressed against his skin, but nothing happened. The pain didn't get worse and it didn't cease - all he felt was the blood.
"That isn't how it works," said a soft voice.
Ben squinted harder and looked up to find Gabrielle. The sun shone against her back, illuminating her in a certain darkness that made her look angelic. Blood was smothered onto her collarbone, but her black tank top and black jeans hid the other bit of blood that was probably also there.
"You look crazy," Ben scoffed. "What happened?"
"Demons happened," Elizabeth grumbled. She looked to Ewan. "He won't die from these wounds, but he won't be able to heal himself."
"Why did this happen?" Ewan asked.
The other's hand passed through Ben's hair, brushing it off his face, and Ben grinned in a daze. He could feel himself wanting to pass out but his eagerness to talk to Ezra kept him awake. However, he couldn't see Ezra, so that made things difficult.
"He brought someone back from Heaven. And while our God is forgiving, he is not without pay. Ben can't go around reviving every soul that dies in his presence." Gabrielle sighed. "Ben won't be able to heal himself or others for a while... We're lucky Ezra came back with his soul."
"What does that mean?" Ewan growled.
Ben blinked lazily. Before he could hear the end of it, he passed out, grunting softly.
Before Ben even opened his eyes, he knew the light would be blinding. So he grunted, closing his eyes tightly and shifting a little.
He wasn't in pain. In fact, he felt fine. But he remembered every single wound he'd ever had opening up. And he remembered everyone being sad.
The smallest hint of a smile cracked his lips at the memory that Ezra, at least, was alive. That's all he could pinpoint.
He pried his eyes open and shoved himself up, but a metal bracelet around his wrist pulled him back. Slowly, he looked down to find he was handcuffed... to a hospital bed. He peered around to find he was, in fact, in a hospital. The curtains were drawn, blocking his view of anything else, but he had an IV in his arm and his Enchantment wasn't anywhere to be found.
And he was in an oddly comfortable hospital gown.
"What the Hell?" Ben whispered.
"Ben Sawyer," said a gruff, monotone voice. He glanced up to find a police officer pushing the curtains to the side.
It was a man who looked to be in his forties, hair slicked back, a few strands dangling in front of his eyes. He sat back in his chair slowly, letting out a slow breath through his nose. He wore a trench coat over a black turtleneck sweater and black skinny jeans that stretched as he shifted.
"You're under arrest for the murder of Charlie Tate, Rebecka Tate, and Johnny Tate." He shifted, then raised an eyebrow. "Anything to say for yourself?"
The accusation didn't even register as he said, "I'm really thirsty. Could I... could I please get a - who?"
"The murder," the man said slowly, "of the Tate family. Sparing, lovingly, his sister. Anything to say for-"
"I didn't kill them," Ben breathed. "I didn't - you have no proof that I killed them."
"We found you in the Grayville Greenhouse with Charlie Tate's dead body. And while he doesn't have any of your grimy fingers on him, you know what he does have? A slit throat. He's dead. Very, very dead and the whole police department thinks it's you. So," continued the man, "you're it, Ben."
"I can't legally keep you here," he said, "because I'm not a police officer. And you're right, I don't have proof. But I'll find some, alright? And when I do, you'll... well, you'll still be it."
Not a police off-
"Who the Hell are you?" breathed Ben.
"Detective Jack," he said. "Jack Ledford. We'll keep in touch."
And then the detective unlocked Ben's handcuffs and left without another word.
"So you just left me in the Grayville Greenhouse with Charlie's dead body hoping, what, I'd clean him up when I woke up? Make sure no one thought I was the killer?"
Ewan was there, having snuck in through the window, and he sat on the side of the bed. "I didn't - Elizabeth said we had to leave you there. We didn't have time to get Charlie's body - I-I'm so sorry. I wish we had, but the police were-"
The demon looked alright. He had bandages around his wrists and if Ben looked closely enough, he could see a bandage on his chest hidden under his pale green v-neck shirt. But his hair was nice and his glasses weren't cracked or dirty. He looked like Stirling did.
"I'm going to be put in jail for murder," Ben said quietly. He sat up, knowing he shouldn't be blaming Ewan. He couldn't have had time to get Charlie's body out of there inconspicuously.
The anger was probably just there from every other situation in his life.
"Hey," Ewan said. He put a hand on Ben's collar, applying gentle pressure. "Don't open your stitches, alright?"
Ben glanced down, peeling away the hospital gown. There were tons of stitches in his body. What should he have expected, really, when every wound he'd ever had opened up? Sighing, he looked back up to the other.
"Where's Ezra?"
"Well... Don't freak out, but you've been out for five days. He went home."
Ben went quiet, but then he cracked a grin. "My attendance must be off the charts." The news should have been unsettling, but in the grand scheme of things, being unconscious for five days wasn't the worst of it.
Ewan clicked his tongue. "I took care of that."
Ben went quiet, looking the other over. He'd actually been taken care of. And not just by Ezra - but by Ewan, Gabrielle, Elizabeth... even Charlie. He sighed through his nose. "Thank you," he mumbled.
"Least I could do for accidentally charging you with murder," Ewan said, smiling. "Anyway, I brought you... sandwiches. We haven't really had a full meal, have we?"
Ewan got up and walked to the window, putting a few things on a tray and walking back over. On the tray were two incredibly burned sandwiches - blackened and charred to the point where Ben questioned the safety hazard of consuming it.
"I see you found the toaster," Ben mused.
"Toasting bread isn't exactly a conversation topic in Hell, Ben. But I figured you wouldn't like it raw."
Ben raised his eyebrows at the sound of that. Raw... bread. He didn't comment on it, though, too intrigued by Ewan's ignorance of modern English to correct him. The two sat in silence for a while as Ben stared at the sandwich in front of him.
"What happened to Elizabeth?" Ben eventually asked, taking a sandwich.
"She went home," Ewan said, taking the other half of the sandwich.
It was a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. One thing Ben had grown up learning to stay away from because of his allergy... And he'd completely forgotten about what Tiana had said.
It didn't matter right now, of course. But he would get to it.
"To Gabrielle's house?" Ben asked.
"To Heaven," Ewan replied quietly. He looked truly sad to give the news. "Charlie's death was hard on her."
There was an unspoken knowledge that Charlie had gone to Hell. Ben hardly had the guts to think it. To think that the entirety of Charlie's new ideals had been rubbed in the dirt because Ben had just-
He raised an eyebrow, cutting his own thoughts off. "I'll just revive him," he said. "She didn't have to leave."
Ewan glanced to the side, going quiet. He looked reluctant to continue talking, but soon he took in a shaky breath. "That would kill you."
"So?" Ben asked. "I'm responsible for his death anyway."
To this, Ewan scoffed. He looked at Ben with anger, trying to decide what to say, before spitting out, "No - Ben, you can't keep doing this."
"Doing wh-"
"Acting like your life is worthless. Acting like you - a-acting like everything we've built is worthless, actually, because you can just throw it away for someone else." Ewan stood up, the sandwich still in hand. "What about the fact that Ezra just came back from the dead? What about the fact that there are people here, on the Surface, that needs you?"
"Who?"
"Me! Me, Ben! Great Hell, you'd think I didn't matter at all to you, wouldn't you?" Ewan's face was red and he was panting angrily.
Ben licked his lips, unsure of what to say. Ewan did matter to him - more than he could piece together. And maybe that was the problem Ben faced when understanding his relationship with Ewan. He'd never had anything like it before - never had any reason to care about another person other than Tiana and Ezra.
But Ezra had just died because of Ben and Ewan was only on the Surface because of him. And if he revived another person, everything would go back to how it should have been. Ezra could make friends and Ewan could be in Hell.
"You know," continued Ewan, "I think you're too absorbed in your own self-pity to understand that there are people out there that care for you. People that would be... absolutely crushed to know you killed yourself. No matter how badly you want things to just 'be normal' after you've died, they won't. Nothing will."
The demon took in a shaky breath. "Because the students at Grayville High may not know it, but they need you." He took a bite of his sandwich angrily, heading for the window. "I need you, Ben. I need you more than I thought I'd need anyone. But clearly, the feeling isn't mutual."
"You're going to disappear," Ben blurted.
He didn't know what else to say, what else to get the other to stay. To just wait and talk.
The other turned around, raising an eyebrow. "What?"
"Nathaniel told me," Ben admitted. He sat up, ignoring the pain lacing his skin. "He told me that... once a demon completes his mission, he... he disappears." He swallowed weakly. "I think... I think I got scared. And I tried to push you away. Or push my-myself away, too, I don't... I don't know, but I got scared."
Ewan swallowed weakly, looking the other over. He turned around again. He walked back and forth from the window to where he'd stood. He put a hand against his forehead and he looked deep into thought before he gradually whispered, "You've got awful bed-side manners."
"Like framing me for murder is any better," Ben teased, narrowing his eyes.
The other let out a sigh, putting his hands in his pockets. Then he shook his head. "Why didn't you tell me sooner?"
"I didn't know how. Or when. I'm... I'm sorry."
Ewan clicked his tongue. "We can think about it later. For now, we just... we need to think about you. Or what we'll do."
It was probably a bad time for Ben to offer raising someone from the dead, but he had to. "I think we should get Charlie back."
The demon scoffed, sitting down at the chair by Ben's bed. "Why?" he asked, crossing his arms. He still looked upset, but Ben knew it was justified.
"Because he was getting better. He was being... being a better person." Ben sighed through his nose. "He deserves better."
"Ben."
"It's my fault he's dead. It's my responsibility-"
"No," Ewan snapped, "it isn't 'your responsibility'. It's Gregory's. Solely. There's nothing you could've done to make him stop. He wants you to feel this way, Ben, that's why he did what he did. Don't let him win this battle."
"I should have-"
"Should have nothing. Because you did what you could. You'd just gotten your ribs crushed, Ben. It wasn't like you were in the right condition to stop a murder."
Ben went quiet. Maybe this was the part where he was supposed to come back with something to justify his thinking - to prove he was to blame.
Because he was. Nothing Ewan said could or would ever change his mind. But for now, he just had to think about something else. Think about what good he could do for the boy whose throat had been slit. He cleared his throat, looking to the side.
"Do you think we can get him back? Him and his soul?" Ben asked, looking out the window.
The weather was gray-blue, layers of clouds lingering in the sky like bad luck.
It took a minute, but the other eventually nodded. Aggravation was plastered on his face, seen through a clenched jaw and an unwillingness to make eye contact. "We can. But we'd have to send someone to Hell who's already been there. Know anyone?"
Ben bit his lip, scraping his brain. He didn't know many people - or, he did, but many of them disappeared once his mother passed. There were a few he knew, though. "Yeah," he said slowly. "We haven't talked in forever, but... yeah."
"Nice," grumbled the other. "I'll tell you about it when you can walk."
Ben glanced down at himself. The wounds he'd reopened were bad, granted. Specifically the ones he'd gotten from Nathaniel, Gregory, and Chester. As the medicine began to wear off, he could feel those wounds ache more than anything.
"We can go now," Ben said. "I'm fine."
Ewan scoffed emotionlessly, sitting back. "Right. Mr. Every-Wound-I've-Ever-Had-Is-Open-But-Whatever."
"Yeah-" Ben nodded, beginning to get up, but Ewan erupted from his chair and pushed him back down.
"No. Ben, that was sarcastic. You're staying in the hospital until the nurses discharge you, alright, because if you leave, I'm sure... one of these plentiful stitches will snap open like a bloody water balloon."
"A water balloon?"
"A- yes, a... a water balloon." He clenched his jaw again, taking his hand off Ben with a raised eyebrow. "You know, because you're a bag of blood? It - it works because you're bleeding everywhere, Ben, so-"
"Ewan?"
The demon huffed quietly. "What?" he asked.
"I'm sorry," Ben whispered.
Ewan let out a slow breath through his nose, knee still propped up on the bed. He stepped back, sitting on the arm of the chair. There was no eye contact. "For what, exactly?"
"For not thinking about what you wanted," Ben replied, lowering his head to look the other in the eyes. "I need to work on that."
The other raised an eyebrow, jaw clenched in irritation that was slowly fading. "So you're staying?"
"I do like that you didn't give me raw bread..."
Ewan cracked a grin. "You're staying," he said. He moved, sitting on the side of the bed with his flirty grin. "So the second I leave the hospital, you won't practically kill yourself getting out of bed?"
"Depends on if you have to leave," Ben quipped, sitting back against the headrest.
Ewan was silent. He sighed through his nose, looking to the burnt sandwiches on their plates. "I do, actually." He shifted so that he was sitting beside Ben, putting his legs on the bed. "Stirling's parents actually care about his absences. I tried to erase them, but... they already got calls, apparently, about him being out of school. They aren't pleased."
"You... what, you skipped out these five days?" Ben asked. "I was unconscious."
The demon glanced to the side, shrugging. "I mean... I couldn't leave you," he mumbled. "I'd rather face two angry parents than... you waking up alone. Or... or dying... dying alone, also."
"I think I already have," Ben replied, chuckling awkwardly. "But thank you."
"You what?"
Taking in a deep breath, he willed himself to shift to the other side of the bed. He didn't know what to say. Of course, he wanted to talk about his experience with death... but should he really talk about it right now? Ewan had his own problems, too. He'd just found out he'd be dead once the Enchantment was completed.
Quietly, Ewan shifted as well so that he was closer to Ben. And before he could think, Ben set his head on Ewan's shoulder, looking at the opposite wall absently.
"Did you die, Ben?" Ewan breathed, setting his head on Ben's.
And they fit. Ben couldn't help but grin a little.
"Yeah," Ben said. Somehow, pride seeped through him. "I did."
"Are you-" Ewan sat up, making Ben sit up too, looking him in the eyes. "Are you the person you know that's gone to Hell?"
"No, I... well, I went to Limbo. And I saw my mom."
Ewan let out a breath of relief through his nose, soon settling back. It didn't take long for them to be in their spots again, fitting perfectly.
"Tiana?" asked Ewan, probably also staring at the wall.
"... Kinda." Ben shook his head. "Tiana isn't really my mom."
"Well, yes, she's a robot. I just meant, you know, she... the name."
"Dad made sure she wasn't like Mom - made sure she wasn't even programmed to respond to Mom's name. He... changed her eye color, too." His voice sounded hollow as he whispered out these words.
"Right," Ewan breathed. "So what... what happened? Why was she in Limbo?"
Ben shrugged a bit - carefully, so as not to disturb their placement. "But she knew about... Stirling, somehow, and she knew about you. Do you know how that could have happened?"
"No," the demon said absently. "And actually, up until now, I didn't know there was a Limbo... Maybe you were dreaming?"
"That wouldn't explain why I was healed entirely," Ben said. He focused on the curtains that surrounded his bed. And he glanced over to the handcuffs that had been left on the other side of his bed. The reminder that people thought he'd killed Charlie and his family crept into his mind like black ink.
He shifted his thoughts to how nice it felt to sit with Ewan.
The two sat in silence for a good moment. Ewan sat with his hands in his lap and Ben had his arms lazily crossed across his hips. Both of them were unmoving - perfectly stilled and comfortable beside each other.
"What was Limbo like?"
They got quieter as they were lulling themselves not into sleep, but into a perfect silence. And Ben didn't have to answer because this was what he would say.
Calm. Still. Perfect.
The closest thing to Heaven.