Dante was still not sure if he was a good boy. But he did know one thing, Good Boys did not leave their boys unattended in unsafe places. But thankfully, Dante knew that Marco and Amelia were good skeletons! They smelled like good people! (And Dante would know, he had an excellent nose) So he did not feel too much worry over visiting the living world while Miguel slept. He knew his boy was in good hands in the meantime.

Just the same, he did not tend to linger. Dante wasn't eager to leave Miguel alone for too long, even if he was fairly sure the boy was safe where he had left him. But also for the reason that even for a dog, the Rivera house in the Land of the Living was a rather heartbreaking sight.

That morning, Dante happened across the old lady with the chancla, sitting quietly in a chair at the kitchen table.

Dante had just been checking on little Soccorro. She may not have have been strictly his charge, but Miguel loved her. And wanted Miguel to be happy, so he felt like making sure the little Rivera was ok fell under his duties as spirit animal. The house was quiet, the morning stillness yet to be broken.

Elena gently picked up one of the several photos scattered about the table before setting it down again with a heavy sigh. Dante tilted his head before slowly approaching. He knew this Abuelita was not especially fond of him (though he was very fond of her cooking) but something told him that he should not fear her sandel today. Not unless he tried to sneak into the kitchen stores again.

The old woman shifted her eyes downwards towards the dog. "Didn't expect to see you." she whispered, offering her hand down to give him a gentle pat on the head. Dante responded by wagging his tail softly. "The funeral is tomorrow." She spoke again, picking up another one of the pictures with her spare hand. "Ay why am I even telling this to a dog. You don't understand a single word I'm saying."

Dante huffed.

Humans and always assuming he didn't understand things.

Ok he didn't understand everything…. Or most things… but that was beside the point.

She was sad about Miguel. He understood that.

He gently rested his head on her knee. These things, emotions, he understood those.

Elena sighed. She was not an especially young woman, but the last month had clearly worn deeply on her person. She looked much more tired than she used to, the fiery spirit hindered by a heavy grief. "I have to pick a photo." She explained, evidently deciding that Dante was still a good choice to discuss this with. "For the ofrenda."

Dante kept wagging his tail gently, eyes flickering between the woman and the different sets of photos.

Her fingers hovered over one before she finally picked it up. It was of Miguel last Dia De Los Muertos, wearing a red charro suit and holding up his white guitar, a big smile plastered across his face.

Dante thumped his tail harder. Yes, this was a good picture of his boy. He hoped he could make Miguel smile like that again soon. He didn't smile enough these days. It was a serious problem. Dante was still trying to fix this problem.

Elena smiled softly "I like this one too." She said with a little nod.

From above the beginnings of the rest of the family rising could be heard as feet padded on wooden floors. Dante realized he should go. He didn't want to leave Miguel alone for very long after all, even if he was in a safe place.

He pulled away from Elena with a small bark, chancing one last glance back at the woman before slipping out of the house and into the yard.

He quickly found a pocket he could slip into that led back into the spirit world he now called home.

He was beginning to learn all the good shortcuts to get back to the little home in Shantytown. It had taken him a bit of trial and error but he was getting the lay of the land. Which was good, because he had to protect Miguel! It was a very important job! Especially with that man hanging around lately.

As Dante padded through the door and approached the hammock in which his little skeleton boy was sleeping, he sniffed the air. Just to be safe.

He smelled the warmth of a found family, the beginnings of bacon cooking from somewhere in the direction of Marcos home (Dante was sure to investigate that with Miguel very soon. Bacon was first priority after waking up his boy.) He smelled a home.

Thankfully he did not smell evil Mariachi. Yet.

The man had been hanging around. And Dante did not like it. No sir.

He knew the man had been following them places. Dante was very suspicious. He did not trust the evil musico.

Maybe he could convince Pepita to slam him into the side of a bell again. Yes, this was a good idea. He would ask Pepita about it the next time he was at the Rivera house.

Which…. He wasn't exactly sure when that would be next. He hoped soon. He wanted to return Miguel to his family. But he was still banned from the house and he could sense Miguel wasn't ready. Something was wrong and Miguel was sad. Dante wanted to fix it. It was true Dante didn't understand most things. Most human words went in one ear and out the other. But he understood that his boy needed him, and so, he would stick close to his boy.

But first, Miguel needed to wake up. Because there was bacon. And bacon was very important!

At first he merely nudged Miguel, hoping this would do the trick. He only gave a snore and turned over in his hammock.

Right. Change of tactics.

Dante gave a loud bark, and then another, standing on hind legs and pushing against the boy with his paws.

"Dante no…." Miguel groaned, batting in air in the general direction of Dante. "Too early."

Dante huffed. It was never to early for bacon.

The xolo gave another push and that was enough to send the hammock spinning. Miguel toppled out with a yelp and landed on the floor. He groaned and slowly lifted his head, leveling a look at the dog. "Why."

Dante barked and started nudging the child with his nose until he reluctantly got up off the floor and to his feet.

The dog spun in little circles around the room, bouncing excitedly. Yes! Now that Miguel was awake they could have breakfast! It was one of Dante's favorite times of the day (followed closely by lunch, dinner, and snack time).

"Fine fine." Miguel groaned following the spirit guide out, though his attitude shifted once he too caught the smell of the meat on the skillet. "What smells so good?"

"Breakfast!" Marco answered with a smile. He cut another slice of bacon before placing it in the skillet, quickly pulling his hands away from the jumping grease.

Dante wagged his tail as he smelled the sweet aroma of food.

Miguel peeked over to the stove, ogling the food till Marco gently pushed him back and away from the flame. "Come on, careful muchacho. You may not have skin but the grease can still burn."

The boy rolled his eyes but obliged and let himself be shuffled back. "You're such a dad." Miguel groaned.

Marco paused in his cooking, a single moment of heavy silence before he laughed a little bit and went back to cooking, pushing around the bacon with his spatula.

Miguel looked towards the man and shuffled his feet. It was hard to tell sometimes what was safe to talk about and what wasn't down in this place. Every forgotten soul was left in to fade in Shantytown for different reasons, but a near universal truth was that none of them had had easy lives.

"I never had kids myself." Marco finally spoke. He paused, spatula stiffly shuffling the meat around. The little sounds of the grease popping and bacon sizzling filled the pauses between the mans words. "Me and well… We always wanted to, but it was not really a possibility in my time."

Dante whined, both out of dissatisfaction at not yet being given breakfast, and the feeling that something sad hung in the air between the two skeletons.

Miguel opened his mouth to speak before pausing, seemingly mulling over his words for a moment. "Who was 'we'?" he finally asked, throwing a careful glance towards the older skeleton.

"Juan." Marco spoke softly, carefully placing the bacon onto a cracked plate as he did so. "He was my everything."

"Where is he?" Miguel asked, quietly.

For a moment, neither spoke a word. The silence answering the question.

Dante huffed, stopping his quiet pacing around the shack to nuzzle gently into Miguel's side. He could sense the sadness in the air. It was overpowering compared to the smell of breakfast.

Sadness was Dante's least favorite emotion. He rarely knew how to fix it. But, cuddles always seemed to help. Thankfully Miguel had picked up the hint, gently scratching behind the dog's ear.

Marco sighed and pulled the pan off the makeshift stove. "Like me, he was the dark secret of the family. The one no one talked about, pretended we didn't exist. The day I told them who I was, was the day I lost my family forever. When you're a dark secret in life, there is no one to tell your tale. And then in death, there is few who remember you."

Miguel and Dante watched as the man carefully split the food into two portions. He grabbed some bread from a tin, breaking it off and setting a piece on each of the plates. "Here muchacho, bread should still be good. Hopefully it's not too hard."

Dante made a solid attempt to snag a piece of meat off of the plates before Miguel batted him away.

(But! But bacon!)

He grumbled and settled for just making whiny noises.

"Juan sounds nice." Miguel finally spoke. "I wish I could have met him."

Marco smiled. "I think he would have liked you chamaco."

Miguel froze at the word. Dante lifted his head, tilting it once or twice in concern and waving his tail nervously. That was a word he recognized.

Miguel gulped a little, fingers idly picking at the bread, pulling off the spots that were too hard to chew. "I lost someone too." he whispered.

Marco looked up from his plate.

"My great great Grandpa." Miguel's voice was quiet, his eyes downcast and focusing on his hands and the little crumbs breaking off onto his plate. "He was forgotten..." his voice began to crack.

Dante looked up to see little tear streaks across his boys face. He whined and gently nuzzled his arm.

Dante hated sadness.

"He was forgotten. And it's all my fault." Miguel sobbed. Breakfast was abandoned as he rubbed his fists against his eyes, trying to wipe the tears away only for them to fall again. "I was too late…" He suddenly slapped his hands over his mouth, as if he had spoken too much. Dante knew something was wrong. He didnt know everything, but he knew his boy was hurting and a second emotion was permeating the space, stronger than the sadness.

"Miguel?" Marco called. "You were too late for what?"

Miguel shook his head furiously. "I don't want to talk about it!" he shouted.

The stench of self hate was almost nauseating. But Dante didn't know how to make it better.

Dante heard the sound of ceramic against wood as he turned to see Marco setting aside his food and swiftly reaching for Miguel. He wrapped a gentle arm around his shoulder. "Hey… hey come on now muchacho it's ok to cry," he said, rubbing small circles on the sobbing boy's back. "Is that what you found out when you went looking for your family last month?" He asked tentatively.

Miguel nodded, face still buried in his hands.

Marco sighed. "It's ok Miguel." He whispered. "It's ok."

Dante whined. His continued efforts at snuggling seemed to be helping as slowly Miguel's crying quieted, punctuated by little hiccups. "It's all my fault…" he mumbled.

"Ay! I'm sure it's not mijo." Marco said pulling back a little, a hand firmly placed on each of Miguel's shoulders. "Miguel, sometimes these things, well these things happen. You cannot blame yourself for this! Promise me you won't do that ok?" He said, holding Miguel's gaze firm.

Miguel gave a weak nod. But even Dante could tell his heart wasn't in it.

(And oh boy it was HARD to ignore the bacon right there on the floor next to him! But! Priorities!)

(... bacon- NO! Priorities! He was a good boy!)

Eventually the last of Miguel's sniffles died out and he let his bony fingers skirtch that perfect spot behind Dante's ears.

Oh yeah! That was the spot!

"Ah, I'm sorry about the breakfast…" Miguel mumbles, casting a glance at the bacon now cold and spread across the floor. "And your plate."

Marco pulled back and looked down at the mess. "Ah! Well no matter." He shrugged, kneeling down and picking up the broken chips of ceramic. "I'll just find another one. Besides, I'm sure Dante can help us clean up the food." He said, throwing a stray piece of meat in the air for the alebrije, who caught it with a snap of his jaws.

Finally! Dante had started to worry that he perhaps wasn't going to get any bacon. Which was just not how breakfast was supposed to go.

The alebrije eagerly did his job, vacuuming up the bacon off the floor with his never ending appetite, being careful to avoid any sharp bits as Marco scooted his nuzzle away in places. Between his taking care of the breakfast, and Marco carefully picking up the bits of broken plate, they had that floor good as new in no time! (Which really meant it was back to being a slightly dirty shack floor, now with extra dog drool)

"Hmmm can't let you go without food though. Amelia would skin me alive for one thing." Marco murmured as he stood up from where he had been cleaning the floor.

Miguel raised an eyebrow at him, vaguely gesturing to the man and his general lack of skin to be skinned in the first place.

Marco smirked. "You know what I mean smart aleck!" He laughed giving the boy's hair a little ruffle. "Here, we'll split the rest ok?"

"I couldn't do that-" Miguel began to protest. "It's your food, I was just a stupid klutz and dropped mine."

"One, you're not stupid, don't say stuff like that muchacho," the older skeleton scolded, already fetching a fresh plate and divvying up the remnants of the meal, secretly putting more of it on the fresh plate than his own. "And two, you still need to eat. You may not have a stomach but you still get hungry kiddo."

Miguel silently nodded as Dante once again began pacing around Marco, eyeing the food with a hungry look.

(So what if he just ate? He always had room for second breakfast!)

Miguel began to pick at the food again. The meat had since long gone cold.

The silence held the room for a moment before Marco spoke, leaning against the wall of the shack and crossing his arms. "I don't know what happened between you and your family." From across the room Miguel tensed up his shoulders again and the man sighed. "And you don't have to tell me if you dont want to. But I'm always here to talk ok?"

Miguel looked towards him and gave a small unconvincing nod.

"And so is Amelia, or Julieta, and Posada.." He said, crossing the room kneeling down in front of the little musico. "You have family down here."

It took a moment, (in which Dante was very concerned,) before his boy whispered. "Ok." before rushing forward and circling his arms around the older skeleton. "Thank you."

Marco smiled and gave him a pat on the head. "Good, now finish up, or I think your dog is going to finish your food for you."

Miguel laughed, and that was music to Dante's ears.

After finishing breakfast (which mostly consisted of Miguel being silent and Dante attempting to steal more food when he was pretty sure neither skeleton was looking), the pair had found themselves once again wandering the back alleys of The Land of the Dead. Miguel was rubbing his bony fingers over the freshley mended hole in his sweatshirt.

Dante tilted his head and looked up curiously.

"I wonder how much the thread cost Señora Julieta…" he whispered, letting the tattered fabric slip from his grasp. "Or the breakfast from Marco this morning…" he sighed.

Dante was too busy enjoying all the new smells of the day to be paying too much attention.

Mmmm the delicious scent of fresh bread from the bakeries wafted through the air… Sweet, fluffy, flour, revenge-

Wait… revenge?

Dante whipped his head around.

Mariachi!