I read, in somone else's fanfiction, thank you, very much, that the original plan for Season Three of BATB was to have Vincent die, and have adventures in the afterlife. Or something very like that. I wanted to write that story, Vincent in a fantastic land, having adventures. I started writing, and it was one of those wonderful times where the story seems to write itself.

PURGATORIO CANTO 1
Per correr miglior acque alza le vele 1.1 To course across more kindly waters now
omai la navicella del mio ingegno, my talent's little vessel lifts her sails,
che lascia dietro a sé mar sì crudele; leaving behind herself a sea so cruel;

e canterò di quel secondo regno 1.4 and what I sing will be that second kingdom,
dove l'umano spirito si purga in which the human soul is cleansed of sin,
e di salire al ciel diventa degno. becoming worthy of ascent to Heaven.

Chapter One

She was rousing, but it was his absence from her bed that woke her. She'd slept peacefully laying next to him; but even in sleep, she missed him when he rose. She sat up, and saw him staring out the French doors, across the balcony. She came to stand close to him.

"You're feeling better?"

"Yes." After a moment, he added, "I'm sorry." He hung his head.

"Oh, Vincent…don't be sorry." She reached out and rubbed large, slow circles on his back.

"It's been my struggle, always; now, when I have so much to fight for, I'm losing."

"Maybe the worst is over."

"If it's not, it's best that I'm below. I should go back."

"It'll be dark soon…"

"Catherine…I don't know what will happen now…"

She took both his hands in her own. "You must promise me one thing. That you will share it with me, whatever happens, whatever comes."

He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. "Whatever happens, whatever comes…know that I love you."

He walked slowly through the tunnels, occasionally dragging a foot, frequently stopping to rest. Several times he put out a hand to rest for a moment, leaning against the tunnel wall. Once, he sat down for a few minutes. A wave of nausea rose up and rolled over him; he closed his eyes until it passed. He pushed himself past sickness, past weakness, for he knew he must complete his mission. He must get to Narcissa. He must prepare. He raised his face; the cool air of the tunnels felt so good. He closed his eyes.

He descended past the main living level of the tunnels, bearing a heading for the lower levels. He made his way slowly, haltingly, to the murky levels of the Catacombs, where the air
was thick and the light had difficulty penetrating the gloom. While he was still a long way off from her chambers, Narcissa and three of her novitiates met him, and helped him in.

They assisted him to sit at Narcissa's round table. Niches in the walls held dozens of tall pillar candles; their brightly flickering tongues swam before his eyes. The thin tinkling of wind chimes played their ballet. The thin gray smoke of sandalwood incense wafted throughout the chamber.

"Vincent," said Narcissa, "you are not a moment too soon, and thank God you are not too late. You are going on a journey, my son, and you must be prepared."

One of the novitiates mixed a powder into a goblet of water, and set it before him. "Drink it, Vincent," said Narcissa, "it is a powerful tonic." He lifted the goblet, and drank. As he did, Narcissa and her novitiates drummed lightly on the table and chanted, "Father Legba, guide his steps. Mother Kalfa, show him the way through the darkness. Papa Ghede, stay by his side. Father Dumballah, keep him safe." The novitiates continued drumming on the table top while Narcissa rose. Before her on the table was a clutter of small, oil filled bottles. She grasped a rose tinted one, and moved behind Vincent. She sprinkled several drops of the oil on his head and handed the bottle to a novitiate. She laid her hands on his head, and began to chant in Creole. When she finished, the novitiates stood, circled around Vincent, leaning across the table to join hands. They closed their eyes and prayed softly in Creole. When they finished, they folded him into a group hug.

Vincent felt refreshed; his mind cleared a bit. "Have faith you will complete your journey, and return home, my son. The gods will protect you, and bring you safely back to us."

"Thank you, Narcissa."

"Surely, Vincent. Come, we will accompany you to the upper levels."

It was some time after they parted that Samantha confronted him about his forgotten commitment to their reading group…Jane Eyre. Ah, Samantha, sweetest of little girls…I'm sorry, so sorry…how could I have explained to you, how could I have made you understand?

Finally, he arrived in his chamber…the wreck that used to be his chamber…and then, out of nowhere, The Other appeared, and lunged at him…

…and then he was clenching the bars of the park gate, trying to break through the locks to get to his mate, and Father was trying to take him home, coaxing him away…he was losing control, he was becoming an…animal…he broke down, and cried. He was going to lose this fight, he knew it. His greatest fear was going to be realized: he would lose his humanity. If he didn't die, then The Other would be in control. While Father went to get Catherine, he said goodbye to his Tunnel family; they had loved him, they had given him everything: love, laughter, joy, belonging. And so to keep them safe, safe from himself, he left them. He made his way to the lowest levels, below the Catacombs.

…and then he was in a dark cavern, pacing the ground, snarling, roaring…consumed by the killing rage, when an intruder approached. Raising his arm to strike, he lunged at…Catherine! No, no, never…I would die before I would harm Catherine, I would die…

He collapsed.

He woke in an open field, sunshine warming him. Sunshine! The icy fingers of fear clenched around his throat. But before he could muster up a true panic, he looked up and saw an oddly dressed man kneeling over him. He was young, muscular; he wore a winged cap, winged sandals, a toga, and carried a caduceus.

"Hermes?" asked Vincent in a raspy whisper.

"That's right," Hermes said kindly. "I'm here to take you and these others to Charon." Vincent looked behind Hermes. A group of perhaps twenty people stood by, milling aimlessly. They are rightly called 'shades', thought Vincent. They were dim, transparent at the edges; even the colors of their clothing were muted to shades of gray. Quickly, Vincent looked down at himself: he, too, was a shade.

"No, no, no…I can't be dead," exclaimed Vincent. He thought of the sorrow his family would have to endure; he thought of how much he would miss Father. His breath caught as he thought of the grief his death would bring to Catherine. "No, Hermes, please—" he began, while rising to his feet.

"Vincent, I'm sorry. None of these people wanted to die, either. But there's nothing I can do, my friend. Your life is over; you must accept that. Come now," he said, and gestured for Vincent to follow.

In that instant, Vincent and the others were on the banks of the Acheron. Charon used his long pole to move the ferry to them, and weeping, they slowly, reluctantly, boarded. Charon began to ferry them across, and Vincent watched the land slowly recede. He silently bid farewell to all that he loved. Tears slid down his cheeks. He roared his frustration; he put his face in his hands, slid down and sat on the deck, and sobbed.

They reached the other side, and disembarked. Persephone, Queen of the Underworld, stood upon a rock, her arms outstretched in greeting. She was lovely, her skin very fair, her eyes warm liquid brown, her lips pink, and full. She was majestic, tall and proud.

"Welcome, my friends. I know you are distressed, worried about the loved ones you left behind, worried about your affairs, fearful of what may lie ahead. I can assure you, you may set your fears aside. You have lived good lives, you have earned eternal peace. You will see your loved ones again one day. Your affairs were truly only a temporary occupation, fleeting pursuits in the face of eternity. And as for what lies ahead for you, well, you will be very comfortable, very happy, and well entertained in the Elysian Fields. Come now, we will show you the way."

She stepped down off the rock. Charon was landing with one more soul. "A late arrival," she said. Vincent looked up.

"Catherine!" he shouted.