Thanks to Jordan, Alysia Of The Pen, TomatoSoupful, Taranodongirl1, superlc529, 157yrs and AppleSpongeCake for reviewing last chapter!
I don't really have anything else to say so here we go, lol ;)
xxxx
"Feeling better?" Miguel asks hopefully as Héctor finishes a glass of water, more willingly than he had before. The water runs down his throat, not as dry and sore. The anxiety of the water somehow being poison has gradually faded away, allowing him to become properly hydrated.
"Not like you're dying again?" Miguel adds, more teasing than anything.
"Actually...I feel a lot better," Héctor says truthfully with a small smile.
It was indeed true. After a day or two of feeling like dying, he was finally starting to feel...better. Like his muscles aren't as sore, his stomach doesn't hurt as much, and he can start moving around a little more without wearing himself out. The bucket still sits next to the bed, but he hasn't thrown up again much to his relief, and he hopes it stays that way. He was even able to keep his breakfast down that Miguel had brought in earlier, and he found himself beginning to enjoy real food for the first time—not just the spirit copies of food that he had grown so accustomed to after just one holiday in the Land of the Dead. His fever is even gone, his head no longer burning and his body free from chills.
Miguel suggested that maybe part of the reason he'd gotten so sick—especially due to his stomach cramps—was because he'd had so much anxiety over drinking water, mistaking it to be poison in his fevered state. It was a perfectly plausible explanation to Héctor, having faced a similar situation soon after he'd died—phantom pains that had made his nonexistent stomach twist and turn from poison that wasn't even real; maybe his living body was just having a difficult time putting together the fact that he was no longer dead.
But for the first time since waking up in the Land of the Living, he feels just the slightest bit more comfortable in his human body. The doctor's order of staying in bed had done wonders, no matter how much he had wanted to break the rules and get up. But he knows he can't get used to it; this is only for a year. The longest year he would ever face in his new life. He's not sure how much time has passed since Ernesto and his fans had kept him from crossing the bridge, but he's not sure if he wants to know. That certain length of time might make it seem like time itself was moving even more slowly, so he doesn't dare ask Miguel how long it had been since he was found in the cemetery.
"Maybe we can go for a walk later," Miguel suggests. "You've been in bed too long."
Héctor lets out a mild laugh; it's as though Miguel read his mind. "I agree. I want to get up and do something."
Time would no longer crawl by so slowly, but they would have to be careful as Miguel had told him when they first went to the cemetery. His grandson had proved that Ernesto's songs were really his through his letters to Coco, and he'd used the mended picture of himself with his wife and daughter to prove it, as well. Just like they'd previously been careful around their own family, Miguel isn't sure if anyone outside would put two and two together. The only person aside from their family who had met Héctor was the doctor that thankfully hadn't recognized him, and they should probably keep it that way.
"I was thinking...maybe we could look for Dante," Miguel whispers cautiously. He doesn't want to upset Héctor, but he has to throw the idea out there. His grandfather had been just as upset as him when he'd revealed the dog's fate, but they have to at least try. Dante could be anywhere and they had to start looking somewhere, especially if he had gotten stuck in the Land of the Living along with Héctor.
"Good idea, chamaco," Héctor agrees softly. Miguel's worry of upsetting him dissipates; it would be a good first thing for them to do now that Héctor isn't as sick as he was before. "He did his best to try and save me. We can't give up on him so easily," Héctor resolves himself. The pain of seeing Dante fade had nearly been too much, keeping it a secret from Miguel for as long as he could.
But secrets were a pain, and Héctor knows it all too well. They never solved anything, only creating more problems...especially when it came to Miguel's parents.
Enrique and Luisa still haven't tried talking to him yet—or any of the other Riveras, for that matter.
"How are things going with your Papá?" Héctor asks Miguel hesitantly, and the boy looks up at him with sad brown eyes.
"He's quiet. He's not ignoring me, but...he won't really talk to me," Miguel answers glumly.
Héctor frowns, suddenly feeling the urge to smack some sense into Enrique. Miguel hadn't been truthful about his identity, but that didn't mean he could give his own son the silent treatment.
It's understandable, Héctor has to tell himself. Miguel's Papá was probably still wrapping his head around the idea of Miguel's seemingly impossible story that his great-great grandfather was actually here in the flesh. They haven't even come into the guest room for quite some time now, leaving it up to Miguel to handle his food and other needs. If an emergency popped up like more vomit, Miguel would have had to get them and they would call emergency. But for now and hopefully the remainder of his time, Héctor really does feel better.
"I know what might help even more," Miguel speaks up again, nodding towards the bathroom. "No offense, Papa Héctor...but you kind of stink."
Héctor's eyes go wide, his face flushing—and most likely blushing—in embarrassment. Skeletons didn't blush but humans did, and Miguel noticing only made his embarrassment worse.
"None taken, I guess..?" He says in an attempt to get rid of the embarrassment.
"Don't worry! I know you haven't been able to get up, so you couldn't take a shower or anything like that. You don't smell that bad actually, but you need to get cleaned up." Miguel nods towards the bathroom again, and Héctor's stomach sinks at the thought of taking a bath and getting wet, something he had never been able to do as a skeleton. Then again it had never been much of a necessity to him, especially compared to other skeletons.
Now that he's not as sick, he finds that it's much easier to stand on two legs. His heavy human skin still makes it difficult to put one foot in front of the other, but the more he concentrates on actually moving and not on the heaviness, his body feels just the slightest bit lighter. He manages to make it to the bathroom without falling once, much to his relief. He stands by the sink while Miguel turns the water in the tub on, putting his hand underneath the running water to check its temperature.
"You can just lay down. It might be a better idea than standing," Miguel says thoughtfully, cringing at the idea of Héctor slipping by accident.
While he was finally getting used to walking, he agrees with Miguel that standing in one place for an extended period of time might be too much, especially if he would risk falling; he doesn't want to have to deal with a head injury while he's alive.
"A towel is right here so you can dry off when you're done," Miguel says, pointing towards the towel resting on the floor so it would be easy for Héctor to pick up.
"You can put your clothes on the counter so they won't get wet," Miguel says.
Once he's gone and he had undressed, Héctor sinks slowly into the water. Warm...but not too warm so it would burn his skin.
Just right.
He allows the water to envelop his sensitive human skin, now maybe not as sensitive as it was before. Miguel had taken great consideration of what the water's temperature should be, and he appreciates it. His muscles relax and he takes deep breaths to further calm himself.
Taking a nice, relaxing bath was another moment he could add to his 'positive things about coming back to life' mental list. Water was available in the Land of the Dead such as the sinkhole Ernesto had tossed him and Miguel into, but skeletons didn't necessarily need to bathe themselves. They couldn't actually drink, but they could use the water to wash their clothes if they wanted. Other than that, the dead really didn't have a use for water like cooking or plumbing, since there were no restrooms.
He pushes the Land of the Dead to the back of his mind the best that he is able, though his heart makes it harder. He can't just stop thinking about his home and family, but thinking only makes it worse so he has to try and distract himself with something else.
A warm, relaxing bath was the perfect thing to do just that.
xxxx
Miguel stands with his great-great grandfather in the ofrenda room, now dressed and cleaner than he had been, much to Miguel's delight. The next time Héctor meets his parents, he'll make a second, even better first impression.
"He still hasn't put the photo back," Héctor says sadly, staring at the blank space on top of the ofrenda and wondering just when exactly Enrique would put the photo back where it belongs.
"Don't worry. He will soon. He has to," Miguel tries to reassure him, though Héctor isn't sure if it's working. His anxiety returns from when Miguel had first hid the photo. Though he trusts his family to keep the photo safe, he wants to see it with his own two eyes—to know for sure that nothing had happened to it like falling to the floor in the attic.
He stares at the other photos of his deceased family instead—the photos that contain Oscar, Felipe, Rosita and Victoria and Papá Julio. He wonders what they're doing right now in the Land of the Dead, and if they're still trying to find a way to bring him back.
He can only hope, forced to appreciate his time with Miguel and their living family for the time being. Though with the way things are going, maybe he's not being as forced to appreciate coming back to life. He reminds himself that it wasn't a curse that brought him here, but a blessing even if it had been Ernesto's fault in the first place.
It was a blessing, and that's why Miguel's blessing hadn't worked to send him back.
He suddenly feels something tugging at his shirt, and glances down to see Miguel looking in the direction behind them.
"Um...Papa Héctor," Miguel says his name quietly, and Héctor turns around to face his parents who had just come in; he's glad that he'd taken Miguel's advice to clean himself up.
"Hola," Héctor says uneasily, realizing that Miguel had said his real name in front of them. He was no longer Gael García, but Héctor. Just Héctor for now, until he could earn their belief that he was Miguel's great-great grandfather who had come back from the dead.
"Hola...Héctor," Enrique says slowly, very unsure of himself. "If that's your real name." He's not going to call him 'Papa' yet until they clear this up.
Keep it together, Héctor tells himself sternly. Don't mess this up.
Just the slightest mistake, and they would assume that he's lying. That Miguel had made up his whole story about the Land of the Dead to cover up something else suspicious about him that wasn't true, and then they really would kick him out or send him away, maybe even call the police.
Enrique doesn't say a word to Miguel as his grandson had sorrowfully explained, leaving it up to Luisa to nod towards her son. Miguel nods in return, understanding that he has to leave so the three of them can sort this out on their own without any influence from him.
Hesitantly, Miguel leaves the ofrenda room and shuts the door behind him. He's tempted to try and eavesdrop, but he doesn't want to risk upsetting his parents any further if they found him by the door, especially not his father. So he goes to his own room instead, unable to fall asleep until someone would come in and tell him that everything went well...maybe well enough that his parents would believe them and Héctor would even be allowed to stay for the rest of the year.
Héctor's heart pounds harder when he realizes that he's on his own in the ofrenda room with Miguel's parents.
How am I going to do this? He whines inwardly to himself, wishing that Miguel could come back. I can't do it. I can't talk to them.
But he can't just literally run away from his problems. It might be a little easier for him to walk, but running was another matter entirely. He wouldn't make it very far, so he has no choice but to stay and talk.
Surprisingly, Enrique breaks the silence first.
"I see you're feeling better," he says in an attempt to make conversation.
"Si," Héctor admits. "I'm feeling a lot better. I can't thank you enough for what you've done for me, even if you didn't know who I really was at first."
"And who are you, exactly?" Enrique questions, his voice stern yet gentle so he won't scare the man off.
"We've seen the photo and how you and our Héctor are so much alike," Luisa says so softly that he almost can't hear. "But you both can't be the same person...our Héctor is long gone. He left our family a long time ago and we don't know what happened to him, but...he's surely gone."
"I'm not...I'm not Gael García," Héctor says truthfully. It was now or never, and there was no going back once he began. He wonders if this was how Miguel had felt when he'd told his side of the story to Enrique, and feels a sharp stab of guilt that he hadn't been awake then to help his father see sense that their story was true, no matter how unbelievable it seemed. He hopes that when this is all over, Enrique will be able to make amends with Miguel.
He has to keep going...for Miguel's sake.
"I'm Héctor Rivera...the same person in the photo. It's true."
Enrique and Luisa remain silent, waiting for him to continue. Héctor isn't exactly sure what he could say next, but an idea sparks in his mind that maybe he doesn't have to say anything at all.
Even though he's not with them, he can feel them. He can feel his deceased family guiding him, beckoning him back towards the ofrenda so he can show Miguel's parents what he knows, starting from the bottom to name the faces he recognizes.
"Oscar and Felipe, the twins," he starts slowly, "they can be quite the chatterboxes, but I've grown used to them talking at the same time over the course of the year that I was with them."
He smiles when he reaches Papá Julio's photo next.
"I haven't really gotten a chance to talk to him that much yet," he says calmly, glancing towards Enrique and Luisa every now and then. "But I know he was a wonderful husband to Coco. He was the love of her life and I'm happy that she found someone like him."
While he had been separated from his family in the Land of the Dead and Imelda didn't even allow him to see her, he had hoped that Coco had lived her life to the fullest—getting married and having her own children. He'd missed out on walking her down the aisle, but he'd always imagined just how happy and wonderful it must have been.
"Victoria is a bit stern, but just on the outside. She's actually really nice once you get to know her and not as scary," Héctor chuckles.
"Rosita is really bubbly and nice," he says fondly, though he quickly realizes he's running out of things to say. "She was one of the first to help me feel comfortable as I adjusted to being welcomed back into the family."
Since reuniting with his family in the Land of the Dead, he'd gotten to know more about them than he'd ever had the chance to before, but in a way...they were still strangers. He feels guilty he'd put them on the sidelines, giving most of his attention to Imelda and Coco. If they noticed, they never said anything, content to let him catch up with his girls that he had missed the most.
Now he misses all of them equally, wishing he had taken the time to get to know each of them better. He thought he would have more time after his first holiday with them...but Ernesto had taken it all away, and Héctor realizes that no, time had never truly been on his side. Every moment spent with all of his family was a time to be cherished, never knowing when it could be ripped away.
Enrique's unexpected voice interrupts. "Welcomed back...?"
Héctor's heart pounds harder when he reaches the blank space on the top—the space where his photo is supposed to be.
"My wife Imelda, and my daughter Coco..." he begins. He has to place a hand over his chest to calm his now-racing heart that rushes in his sensitive ears.
He desperately wishes he was with all of his family now where he was supposed to be: in the Land of the Dead. But he's not, and until then he has to make things right with Miguel's parents, doing his best to continue his story.
"I wish I had never left them to play music. I loved them with all my heart, and one of the only reasons I played music was to make sure that we had a roof over our heads and that I could support them."
He lets out a brief, nervous sigh as his story begins to merge with part of Miguel's unbelievable one.
"I thought it was my dream to play music for the world like my friend Ernesto, but...my dream was just to go back home and be with them. I wanted to go back home...I tried, but on the night I was about to leave Ernesto...he poisoned me."
He thinks he can hear a small gasp, but he's not sure who it had come from. Possibly Enrique, since Miguel had told him almost everything—including how he'd been poisoned by his 'best friend.'
"I woke up dead," he tells them exactly as he had told Miguel the previous year as he had recounted his death in front of Ernesto. "My photo was never placed on the ofrenda, so I couldn't cross over the bridge on Día de Muertos. I tried and failed every year, because a photo is required for the dead to cross. But that all changed because of Miguel..."
"But you can change that!" Héctor remembers telling Miguel as he had explained what needed to be done if he ever wanted to get across the bridge. Little had he known just how much Miguel would change, and for the better.
He wonders if he should continue onward, if Miguel had told Enrique enough about this certain part of the story.
"I needed a photo that I had of myself to be put up on this ofrenda," he continues slowly, "and Miguel needed a musician's blessing if he wanted to get back home on time without any conditions from his family. I didn't know he was my great-great grandson at first, but I wasn't going to let anything happen to him—especially when we found out what Ernesto had done to me.
"Miguel needed to be back home before sunrise, or else he would have been turned into a skeleton like us. Thankfully we got him home on time." Héctor smiles to himself at the memory of Miguel being sent back just before the sun had risen, though his parents don't need to know just how close their son had been to passing on, or how close he himself had been to the Final Death.
"Then this year on Día de Muertos, Ernesto stopped me from crossing the bridge. Unexpected things can happen to skeletons if we stay here after sunrise, and I guess coming back to life was one of them."
"Our Héctor was also a músico who left his family," Enrique says, a flutter of belief beginning to sweep through him, but only barely. He still can't hold back his skepticism. "We thought he abandoned them, but..."
"I tried so hard to go home," Héctor whispers, "but then Ernesto..."
Well, he had already told them what Ernesto had done. Stealing a glance at Enrique and Luisa still listening cautiously, he can tell that they still don't believe him yet.
For all they know, Miguel could have told him all these things about their relatives from what he already knew about them, and maybe what he had 'made up' about his adventure in the Land of the Dead. He had to tell them something that only he would know...that only they would know, and not something that Miguel could have told him.
He needs to tell them something that only he would know about one of their deceased relatives, and his daughter is the first to come to mind.
He turns to Luisa. She doesn't react at first, though he can tell she's trying to hold back her shock that he's speaking directly to her. Taking a deep breath, he begins a story that Coco had told him before he'd gotten stuck here in the Land of the Living.
"It was our song...Remember Me," he begins, and Luisa's eyes grow just the slightest bit wider. "The song that Miguel played to help her remember. You must have heard her sing it quietly to herself before her mind began to fade, because you remembered some of the lyrics, even if they weren't perfect. When she had trouble going to sleep, you would sing it to her even if music wasn't allowed in the house yet."
And when Miguel had played, really played the song for the first time in ages and had sung the correct lyrics along with the right melody, she had fully regained her memory of her Papá. Luisa had to be part of the reason that Coco had remembered him, if only a little, for so long. He feels bad when Luisa's eyes begin to water at the corners, and she lifts a hand to her mouth in surprise, but also warmth that she had done such a thing for his little girl when she would have been at risk of one of her family members hearing, especially Elena.
Enrique turns to face his wife, flabbergasted at the idea that she used to sing at a time when music had been banned, and quietly enough that she hadn't been caught by Elena.
"Is this true?" He questions incredulously, hardly believing his ears and eyes when she makes the slightest hint of a nod in his direction.
"Si. And I never told Miguel...not yet. I never told anyone."
"Coco said you had the most beautiful voice," Héctor says, not meaning to kiss up or exaggerate to try and get even more approval from them. It was the truth, exactly as Coco had told him. "Like an angel. She would have wanted me to tell you gracias for her, I think," Héctor finishes.
The water at the corner of Luisa's eyes begin to slide down her cheeks. Enrique wraps an arm around her, squeezing gently. Luisa reaches up a hand to take his, and a soft smile emerges through her tears that Héctor returns just as gently.
Enrique reaches his other arm down towards his pocket, and Héctor's own eyes widen when he pulls out a certain photo that had been missing from their ofrenda. Without saying a word he stretches his hand closer to him, and Héctor has to stop himself from taking a nervous step back.
"Welcome to the family, Papa Héctor," Enrique says sincerely. Héctor's eyes seem to widen even more, but he manages to relax himself enough to reach his hand towards Enrique's.
"I think you should be the one to put the photo back up," he says, bringing it closer to Héctor. "It's clear to me now that you two really are the same person, and I should have believed my son from the start."
He really should have. Miguel and Héctor's stories lined up much too perfectly for them to have made it up on the go. It could only mean that they were both being honest, that their adventure in the Land of the Dead really had happened.
Héctor takes hold of the photo and Enrique lets go, allowing him to turn back around to face the ofrenda. He stares down at his girls in the photo, his eyes mimicking Luisa's and tears coming forth uncontrollably.
Hand trembling as he lifts it towards the ofrenda, Héctor wishes that Miguel was here now to witness the special occasion...though maybe it could be a surprise for later that he'd finally gained the trust of his parents, that they believed who he really was.
His human heart thuds with warmth more than it ever had as he places the photo back where it truly belongs.
xxxx
Enrique runs a hand down his face. It was all beginning to make sense...Rosa rushing to them saying that they'd found a man in the cemetery...Miguel explaining—lying—about a lullaby that had made him fall asleep so they wouldn't get a doctor, and then Rosa bringing up the 'school project' so he would be allowed to stay...
He finds himself in Miguel's room, and his son is apparently asleep. But Enrique knows better...
"What you have said about this man is true? No lying?" He asks the silent air. But without turning around, Miguel says only one word so firmly that Enrique knows he can't be lying.
"Si," Miguel says so firmly that Enrique knows he's telling the truth. His son hadn't lied, and that's what matters most. Miguel had been telling the truth the entire time, and Enrique scolds himself for not seeing it sooner; that the man really is related. He suddenly feels guilty for not listening to his son about getting a doctor. If anything was found out about Héctor that wasn't supposed to be—like coming back to life—it would be on his shoulders because he had been too stubborn to let go for once and believe.
Enrique sighs, guilt that he hadn't believed his son traveling swiftly through him. "Then if he really is our Papa Héctor...we can't exactly turn him away, can we?"
Miguel finally moves to turn in Enrique's direction, his eyes shining brightly in the dark with hope.
"So...he can stay? He can stay for sure?" Miguel questions slowly, not believing his ears.
Enrique nods. "We'll have to introduce him to the rest of his living family properly soon, won't we?" He says, making sure to add the word 'living' on purpose so Miguel can see that he understands now. He understands that 'Gael' really is their Papa Héctor, and that he really had come from the Land of the Dead, coming back to life in the most unexpected way.
Without warning, Miguel leaps up from his bed, crashing into Enrique and wrapping his arms so tightly around his father that he almost loses his breath.
"I'm sorry I didn't believe you, mijo," Enrique apologizes. "I said I would listen, but I didn't and I'm so sorry."
Miguel shakes his head in his father's embrace. No apology was needed; he was just glad that his story is now believed.
That Héctor can really, truly stay with his living family without having to hide who he really was anymore. From this point on, things were definitely going to be a lot easier for the two of them—for all of them once everyone knows the truth.
Miguel simply hugs his Papá even tighter.
"Gracias, gracias, gracias!"
xxxx
He wants to keep his father's approval a surprise until later as they walk through Santa Cecilia the next day like Miguel had suggested would be a good idea for Héctor, making sure to keep a low profile should anyone recognize him from the photo that Miguel had used to prove Ernesto's guitar was actually his.
All the while, Miguel keeps his eyes peeled for a certain alebrije that he knows has to be around here somewhere, especially if he had gotten stuck in the Land of the Living with Héctor.
But where...?
Héctor suggested that posters might be helpful, until Miguel points out that they don't even have a photo of poor Dante. He was a stray in his family's eyes, and he didn't want to bother his parents with anything more—especially not after everything they had already revealed.
They would have to find Dante on their own, besides maybe asking someone if they had seen a gray Xolo dog anywhere. So far, no one had mentioned anything and Miguel's spirits were becoming lower by the minute.
"I know it hurts, Miguel, but please...try not to get your hopes up too high," Héctor says honestly. Dante may not have faded exactly like Ernesto so there was a chance of him still being alive, but there was still a chance that he just...hadn't made it. Who knew where the poor alebrije had gone? Maybe it was like the Final Death and he was just...gone...but Héctor tells himself not to think like that. Like he had told Miguel before, they can't give up on the spirit guide so easily.
"I know," Miguel repeats the single word in a whisper, "but we have to try."
"We'll look as long as we have to," Héctor agrees. "Maybe that perro is just hiding somewhere we can't see."
If they came up empty today, then they would look tomorrow and the next day for a reasonable amount of time, and Héctor decides that he'll let Miguel decide when that time would be if Dante was unfortunately never found; he just can't bring himself to be the one to say they would have to stop looking.
A crashing sound startles the two of them to look up at almost the same time to see the unexpected sight of a young child barrelling straight towards them, trash cans rolling this way and that from the back of a nearby restaurant.
"Get back here, you little mocoso!" The voice of a man suddenly shouts at the child, about to go after him with a broom. He halts when he notices that the child is running not on two legs, but...four? Shaking his head in exasperation, the man turns to go back inside.
Héctor is unprepared to be knocked down by the kid himself, groaning loudly as his spine screams at the sudden contact with the ground. He takes it back—he is still far from comfortable in his human body, especially when it comes to falling.
Ouch, his muscles burn. He can only hope that this fall won't affect his entire body, and he won't be restrained to staying in bed again.
"Whoa, easy, kid. What's gotten into you?" He asks, his tone pained yet playful. Miguel backs away a bit, his head tilting to the side in momentary confusion at their new 'friend.' But he takes a step forward again, holding out a hand for Héctor to grab so he can stand back up. He gives an awkward smile to Miguel so his grandson knows that he's alright, and Miguel only shrugs, glancing back down at the kid and waiting for him to answer Héctor's question.
The child doesn't respond, simply yet eagerly wrapping both arms around Héctor's stomach once he's on two feet, burying his face into his shirt. Héctor realizes that he's whimpering instead of saying anything, but doesn't push him to speak yet. The child releases his hold, bending down until he's standing on all fours without a care of getting dirty. Héctor blinks in confusion, only continuing to stare and at a loss for words on the strange way he was acting.
The child looks up at him with a dirt-smeared face and wide brown eyes with dark hair, his behind wiggling back and forth as if he had an invisible tail and tongue hanging out, panting in excitement.
Wait...a tail...the dog-like way he's wiggling the invisible appendage back and forth...
Was that a gray streak in his hair?
"What happens if we stay out after sunrise?" Héctor recalls himself asking before the unthinkable had happened—before Ernesto had ambushed him and forced him to stay in the Land of the Living.
"No one knows for sure," Rosita had explained with an uneasy shrug. "It's kind of a spontaneous, unpredictable thing. One thing could happen to one person, and another thing could happen to another person."
"There was once a rumor about being turned into alebrijes," Felipe added in.
Oscar shook his head at his brother's crazy idea, and Pepita snorted as the cat walked faithfully besides Imelda. Dante barked twice as if in agreement and leapt over the entrance to the Land of the Dead.
It wasn't possible. It couldn't be possible! Then again, it wasn't possible to come back to life, yet here he was in the flesh.
Had their loyal alebrije once been a skeleton—a child skeleton at that—getting stuck on the other side on a past Día de los Muertos? Had the spirit guide been transformed from a skeleton into an alebrije, just like Felipe had suggested to be amongst the possibilities of what could happen after sunrise?
And because he had once been a skeleton, had he been transformed back into his human form after Ernesto kicked him into the Land of the Living?
Héctor can't believe it and his brain hurts at just trying to figure out what had happened to the poor thing, but he and Miguel seem to have found their lost spirit guide a lot sooner than he thought they would in this child that was acting so strangely.
Acting...just like a dog. A dog that they know. A dog that could only be...
Miguel says it for him, his voice just as shocked and astounded.
"Dante?!"