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Dean and I finally made it out of Purgatory, one year later, bloodstained and filthy, making it to wilderness in the middle of nowhere. Dean was holding a battle ax-like weapon from Purgatory. It was made of bone and rock, very horror-movie-ish. I was holding a black, sword-like machete with the tip of the blade made of bone, also from Purgatory.
We found a tent in the middle of the woods, with a man walking out of the tent.
“Where are we?” Dean asked.
“What?” the man asked. A woman walked out of the tent. Dean raised a gun, cocking it. “Wha–hey. Hey.”
“Where’s the road?” Dean asked.
Will pointed in the direction. “12 miles, that way.”
I lowered Dean’s arm and the gun, eyeing the couple, picking up a backpack from the ground, running off, pulling Dean with me.
~~~~~~~
We found our way to Clayton, Louisiana four days later, cleaned up and in a change of clothes, driving along a country road in an orange pick up truck, coming to a stop, getting out of the car.
The driver pointed out directions.
Dean and I grabbed our things, walking along.
I looked at Dean, slightly relieved to be back.
Dean looked at me, managing a small smile.
I took Dean’s hand, twining our fingers, looking at Dean, smiling a small smile.
~~~~~~~
After dark, we found a sign on a stone pillar marking someone’s land reading Lafitte.
Dean and I read the sign, walking onto the land, carrying shovels, pacing slowly and deliberately from a windmill.
Dean was holding his left arm, looking at the makeshift grave. “This better be you, you son of a bitch.”
We started to dig until we dug up the uncovered bones in the grave.
I tossed my shovel aside, sitting on the edge of the grave. “All right.”
Dean held his arm, lowering himself into the grave. “Hold on, you bastard.” He rolled up his left sleeve. His forearm was glowing red, pulsing. “Hold on!” He cut his left arm with a large knife. “Anima corpori…” He held his arm out over the grave. Red glowing liquid dripped from his arm onto the bones. “Fuerit corpus… totem resurgent.” He groaned in pain. The light played over the bones, vanishing. Dean fell to the ground. “Wow.”
I helped Dean out of the grave, standing, taking his arm, rolling down his sleeve.
Dean gasped in pain.
I looked up at Dean. “You okay?” Dean caught his breath, nodding. Benny appeared behind Dean. “Wow. That was fast.”
“No, thanks to you,” Benny told us. “The hell took you so long?”
“You’re welcome,” I told him sarcastically. Benny cracked his neck. “Everything working?”
“Good enough,” Benny answered, opening his mouth wide, vampire teeth descending and retracting as he closed his mouth. “So, what now?”
“Like we talked about, I guess,” I answered.
Benny nodded. “Then this is goodbye.”
“Keep your nose clean, Benny,” Dean told him. “You hear me?”