In case it wasn't woefully apparent, I have no clue how the British educational system works (compared to the American one, at least). As such, I'm going off of my vague knowledge of how boarding schools work. If anyone would like to give me an incredibly watered down version of the system that would be easy for me as a writer to understand, that'd be great.

As the teleportation spell faded, Alfred spread out his arms as Arthur coughed at the sudden change in temperature and air quality. Smoke and ash floated around them, accented sharply by the bright orange flames dancing around the two. The human and demon were high above the ground on top of a cliff and, if they were to jump, the tops of their heads would brush against the tips of maroon stalactites. "Welcome to the Sixth Circle! There aren't that many demons here—a few aggressive monsters, yes, but no one around who'll blab about what we're doing."

Arthur peered over the edge of the cliff, squinting as his vision was assaulted by the bright magma that rolled throughout the underworld in rivers. Occasionally, he would see a small, dark shape dark to the edge, become swallowed in the flames that danced along the ground, and then drink the molten liquid.

"Okay... What am I supposed to do now?"

"Simple," Alfred stood beside the human and breathed in, admiring his kingdom. "You're going to fly."

"Wha—" The air was then forced out of Arthur's lungs as Alfred slapped him, hard, on his back, shoving him off the cliff side. He desperately gasped for breath and forced out, "You fuck—!" before he plummeted.

Though he would refuse to admit it later, he began to scream. Alfred laughed and wrapped his arms around his stomach before eventually calming down, crouching down and watching as Arthur fell, getting smaller and smaller. C'mon, we both know you can do it. Make a pair of wings.

Wings, no matter what kind of demon you were, were easy to form and dissipate. Alfred preferred to keep his out, but smaller demons frequently hid their wings in an attempt to look less like a threat. It was a simple rule of survival: the weaker you appear, the less likely you are to be targeted. Arthur, even though he had the power of the Fallen Angel caged up in his soul, had no clue how to use his magic correctly, and therefore he wouldn't be able to do it on command.

The next best thing to do, instead of wasting time teaching him how and ending up with hours wasted doing nothing but sit Indian-style on the ground meditating, was to force Arthur to make the wings. It was crudely simple, just have him think he's plummeting to his death, and hopefully, the wings will appear. It was cruel, but necessary. Plus, the type of wings would tell him just how strong the human was. If they were bat-like, he would have the total power of a normal demon. If they were angel-like, then he'd really have the powers of a Fallen Angel at his disposal.

Of course, this whole agreement would be null and void if Arthur died, so he had put in a few safeguards. If Arthur didn't summon wings after a certain point, then a barrier would catch him and throw him back up so that Alfred could do it again. It would be best if they appeared on the first try, because if he got thrown back up, he would know there's no danger and this whole thing would be for naught.

But, judging by the green flames that had spread across Arthur's back, there wouldn't be a second attempt. With a scream of pain from Arthur, a pair of white (Alfred scowled when he saw the color, but it was a small, insignificant detail) wings burst out of his back and ripped through his shirt, catching the wind and slowing his freefall into a smooth glide. After a moment, they began to beat frantically, trying to slow the teen's descent and stabilize him.

Smiling, Alfred slowly leaned over the edge until he fell off, letting the dry wind whip past him before he, too, spread his wings and floated down to Arthur's level, letting out a small chuckle at the shell-shocked expression on the human's face. "Hey, congrats! You wouldn't have died, I thought of that, but you've clearly got a hell of a lot of power in ya. I mean, look at those wings! They're a little bit too white, so it'll draw a fair amount of attention here, but it's still a clear sign of what you can do with a little bit of fine work."

Arthur didn't react.

"H-Hey, you alright? I mean, I know it's probably the weirdest thing in the world to suddenly get a pair of wings, but…" Alfred's eyes widened, and he quickly waved his hand in front of Arthur's face. "Shit, are you in shock? C'mon, Arthur, talk to me bud."

No reaction. Alfred swore under his breath and he grabbed Arthur around his waist and gently placed his hand on Arthur's back as he shot up and gently landed far, far away from the edge. He laid Arthur on his stomach to check on his back.

"Oh fuck." Alfred hissed, seeing the massive amount of blood pooling around the bases of the wings. Apparently for humans, wings that are summoned magically rip through the skin, and the pain had probably shut him down. It was only through pure instinct that he had managed to remain in the air and not completely collapse.

He knew how to fix his injuries: a simple healing spell and gentle ministrations would easily fix him up and soothe the pain. However, he had no clue how to fix someone's brain so that it would function normally again. Breaking it was much easier, simply because you didn't have to deal with the repercussions.

"Arthur," Alfred shook his shoulder, gently rolling him over onto his side and snapping his fingers in front of the human's face. "Arthur, can you hear me? You doing okay?"

Slowly, Arthur's eyes lost their glazed texture and began to focus, on his surroundings. In an instant, his eyes widened, and his wings beat violently against the ground and smacked Alfred in the face, the white feathers dirtying from the rust-colored dust and the ash floating in the air. The human screamed, kicking out and pushing away from Alfred, trying to put as much space between them as possible and get onto his feet to run. Thinking fast, the devil shot up and grabbed one wing, forcing it to fold up and press against Arthur's back, and then he wrapped his arm around his chest, keeping the teen pinned. After fumbling around, he grabbed the other wing and clasped his hands together right above Arthur's sternum. The slight height difference meant that Arthur was lifted above the ground, and if Alfred wanted to keep his grip and not risk bending over to keep Arthur from thrashing and potentially flipping him, then he had to deal with Arthur's happy feet.

"Snap out of it!" Alfred growled, tightening his grip until Arthur was struggling to breathe and his wings were fitfully twitching from pain. "Get your head together, you aren't thinking straight!"

Arthur's thrashes slowed until he was left panting desperately for air in Alfred's grasp. After a few tense minutes, the devil loosened his grip and let the teen slide to the ground, his dirty wings draping behind him like a stained cape. A sigh of relief escaped Alfred's lips, and he sat down besides Arthur and felt his tail twitch fitfully, making sure to not sit on his wings or further agitate the Brit. "Probably should have thought that through better, huh?"

"…Yeah, probably." Arthur replied, and Alfred didn't even care that it was the most passive aggressive response he could have received, because at the very least, it meant that the teen was capable of higher brain functions. "Honestly, I should be spitting at you for throwing me off a bloody cliff, but I can't summon the energy to do it."

"Makes sense. You're dealing with a fair amount of new shit, and making wings for the first time is pretty draining." Arthur's eyes widened again, and he turned his head and stared behind him, slowly running his fingers along the edge and flinching, drawing his hand back.

Alfred laughed. "Don't tell me, you didn't know you had made them?"

"No?" Arthur's voice was shaky. "Can I get rid of them somehow?"

"That's something you'll have to figure out on your own." Alfred said, his own wings disappearing in a plume of blue flame. "I know how to make the wings disappear because I've had them since before the Roman Empire. I just cut off energy to them, but you'll have a whole bunch of fun deciphering that on your own."

"Wait, what?" Arthur turned to stare at his mentor. "You aren't going to help me?"

"This is something I can't really help with, which is why I'm making that your homework." Alfred's grin grew as Arthur tensed and stood up indignantly, his feathers rising up in rage.

"You cannot be serious! I can't go home like this!"

"You could sneak through a window?"

"With Daimhin home, that's not happening. She has the ears and eyes of a hawk."

"Oh you'll manage!" Alfred said cheekily as he began to cast the teleportation spell around Arthur, the teen noticing a second too late before his ankles and wings were bound.

"No, no, you bloody fucker, do not do this right now, do not—!" Arthur was completely bound in the black tendrils and teleported back to Oxford, and Alfred plopped down onto the ground, his wings spreading as he stretched like a cat. The humidity sunk into his bones, invigorating him and easing the stress that had come from dealing with Arthur.

It was very, very clear that the small British boy who had a semblance of manners had grown into a sharp tongued, pierced, ragged teen. Who knew what he had done within five years, or what other people had shoved down his throat, but he was determined to make sure that Arthur didn't destroy himself with his own magic.

It wasn't like humans were incompetent—some became famous because of these talents, but not using the potential of the Devil's soul-imbued abilities could either make Arthur a ticking time bomb or corrode what was left of his own soul. Alfred hadn't lied about that—refused to lie, even—but his teaching methods would have to be improved at some point or another in order to have this relationship work.

Sighing once more, Alfred pushed himself to his feet and then pushed off the ground, grazing the tips of the stalactites before nosediving off the cliff and flying in earnest. Blue flames danced along his fingers as he cast out his senses, searching for a certain little grumpy angel.

"—send me back to the…" Arthur paused and blinked, swiveling around and watching as his wings followed on a slight delay, the backgrounds of EF Academy hauntingly familiar. "…school. Son of a bitch devil bastard."

Well this was just wonderful, wasn't it? He's thrown back to his school, the absolute last place he wants to be, with no clue how to get rid of his wings, and no ideas on how he would handle the next few hours, with or without them.

He certainly couldn't go home, otherwise Daimhin could see him like this and have him confess, and whenever Daimhin knew one of Arthur's secrets (especially if it could kill him), his mother was bound to find out within the hour. He could fly around, see if the wings had a timer or would go away after a certain amount of energy was used up, but that would risk him getting seen, photographed, or recorded by a stranger, who could then post it online and that would cause a massive controversy. Not only that, but if they disappeared while he was in the air, then he could die from the resulting fall.

…There was a third option, and it would solidify the excuse he gave Daimhin, but he really didn't want to do that unless it was a last resort.

But he couldn't get his bag either. The school had security cameras, and he was positive his school bag had been left in the classroom Alfred had grabbed him in. The third option would not only give him a few hours where he could safely hide, but also cover his ass if Daimhin asked about it later, and it would get him his homework without anything being caught on film.

Arthur sighed and patted his back pocket, thankful that his phone was still there, and took it out, unlocking it and scrolling through his contacts until he found Francis' number. He quickly dialed it and let it ring as he examined the dusty white wings. The feathers closest to his back were tinted red—not from the maroon dust from Hell, but rather from crimson blood. Human bodies, apparently, did not enjoy the treatment of suddenly growing wings, and the action had ripped through his skin. He couldn't feel any torn muscles, but the feeling of two new limbs resting where there was previously just smooth skin was… odd, to say the least.

Finally, thank fuck finally, Francis picked up his cellphone. In the background, there were two other voices, more than likely Gilbert and Antonio, and the distant sound of gunfire. "Bonjour?"

"Do you ever look at who's calling you?" Arthur replied in a snarky tone, ignoring the urge to run his fingers through his feathers like one would with their hair to untangle it.

"Arthur?" In the background, the gunfire stopped. "Are you okay? Are you injured? Why are you calling?"

"I'm fine—at least, I hope I am. Look, I can't go home right now and I need you to pick me up. I'm at the school and all my stuff is in a classroom, and I can't go in to get it."

"What? Why can't you go home? Arthur, I'll pick you up, but I need to know—"

"I have wings, Francis." At the ensuing silence, he continued. "I have wings, and I have no clue how to use them, and if I go home I'm screwed because Daimhin is a bloody snitch and I can't fucking fly because the Devil is a massive dick and didn't tell me how. I need you to get here, and I need you to help me get my stuff, and I would really like a blanket to cover me."

There was a pregnant pause, and Arthur suspected that Francis had put his phone on speaker at some point before or during his tirade. "…are you serious?"

"Francis?"

"Oui?"

"Get to the damn courtyard. Now." Arthur clicked the end call button and ran his fingers through his hair, pushing through the sweat and grime that had settled there and grimacing as his stomach rumbled. Francis was more than likely hanging around in Antonio and Gilbert's dorm—especially considering that there weren't many people who lived with him and he would be alone most of the day. Thinking quickly, he opened his texts app and found Francis again, tapping away at the screen. My bag and school supplies are in a different classroom on the first floor. I think it was Bordon's room. If it's not, it's a room near the A Stairs.

Everwood Academy was a private boarding school, something that Arthur's family hadn't had the opportunity to experience prior due to a lack of necessary funds. What made the situation even worse was that the school wasn't that far away, and it was actually closer than the public school. Since Alasdair and Dylan had graduated college and gotten rather decent jobs, they had the money available, and Arthur got a spot. He was a day student, going home once classes ended. Gilbert and Antonio were from Germany and Spain, respectively, and they shared a dorm room that Francis frequented more than his own house.

Of course, since Antonio had worked with this in his house back in Spain with seven other siblings, he had a rather large well of knowledge on how to wire electronics. Their shared dorm had a closet and, with a little help from his German friend, they had set up a gaming system that could easily be hidden by clothes when inspection day came around. It made it a much better place for them to hang out, not only because it was easier to get there, but because they had the most fun there.

Arthur jumped when his phone dinged, except it wasn't a reply from Gilbert. Arthur cringed as he stared at a new text from Daimhin.

A new one among twelve others, in fact. They were spread over the half-hour he was 'training', each one getting progressively angrier as he didn't respond.

cool which friends?

hello?

omg is this a new franny?

r u on a date rn?

is that y ur ignorin me?

arthur wtf

arthur WHERE ARE U

ARTHUR

U LITTLE SHIT

I WILL USE FIND MY IPHONE ON U

ARTHUR JAMES KIRKLAND

BITCH U BETTER RESPOND

arthur im gonna call the popo i swear

Frantically, Arthur tapped at the screen. Daimhin my phone died! It's been charging for the past hour, and I'm at Gilbert's dorm with the rest of his little entourage.

Almost immediately there was a reply. oh thank god u gotta tell me when ur gonna go afk for long periods of time i get super worried.

You should focus on yourself. You are in college, after all, and I am still a lowly high schooler.

ha k ill leave u alone now but u better be home in the next hour!

Arthur hesitated, almost tempted to lie and say that he would spend the night there, but that would raise a red flag, if his previous actions hadn't. Instead, he quickly sent a text saying he'd be there on time, and turned off his phone, glaring at the wings that rested against his bareback like a cloak. "Of course he wouldn't tell me how to get rid of them, of bloody course."

Agh! I'm so sorry I didn't get this up sooner, since this was written ahead of time, but I've been in what I call a writer's slump recently. I know what I want to add onto this story, and I really want to, but I haven't been able to summon the energy to put it on paper, nor figure out how to get it to work. As such, I really can't guarantee weekly updates, but Chapter 5 here is to basically apologize and give you all new content!