DISCLAIMER: I own nothing.

Technically, it had been the third of November for quite a while now. The people of San Angel didn't know, and those who were keeping track of the time didn't care. After all, there would surely never be a Day of the Dead like this again. Soldiers parted by battles were swapping tales, children played with parents whose faces they could hardly recall, men and women danced with spouses long gone. And speaking of which, had you ever seen such a lovely wedding? Brides hardly ever looked that happy. Or grooms, for that matter. "They do when they've come back from the dead," said some.

"It won't last!" said others. Four others, to be exact. The quartet of soldiers sat amongst the ruins of the church tower, all crossing arms and wearing the same pout. Someone had to sulk for their leader's sake, they had decided, since he didn't have the good sense to. "Ay, poor Joaquin," one of them moaned. "To lose his true love so easily!"

"And his eye!"

"It could be worse," said the most cowardly of the lot. "He could have lost his mustache!" They all shuddered at the thought of such an unspeakable tragedy.

"Maria will see," the first soldier continued. "When she is alone with that nuisance, she will be brought to her senses."

The cowardly soldier scanned the graveyard. "Er…what do you mean, 'when'?"

His companions followed his gaze. The festivities in the graveyard remained in full swing, but the newlyweds were nowhere to be seen.

One light was still glowing amidst the darkness in the heart of town, and it came from the Casa de Sanchez. Through an open window at the top of the house, one could hear an oft-used gramophone pumping out strains of Tchaikovsky. Two laughing voices were mingling together just above the music.

"What are they doing up there?" the cowardly soldier asked as he caught up to his friends, who were already standing beneath the window.

"What do you think?" one of them chuckled, nudging him mischievously.

"Ten minutes ago, you were saying she would…"

"All things in good time! Or is it a good time for all things? Oh, it doesn't matter. Up you go!"

Inside, the unsuspecting couple was none the wiser. "There you go," Maria was telling her husband. "Just like that." She thought she heard a squealing noise coming from near the window, but when she turned to look, there was nothing but the view.

"Did you see anything?" the soldiers asked, catching their cowardly friend as he fell back to earth.

"Too far away," he answered.

They picked him up by his arms and legs and moved until they were almost brushing the bricks of the house. "Right, on tres. Tres!"

"How am I doing?" Manolo asked. A nervous laugh escaped his lips as he tried to concentrate on his movements.

"Not bad for a beginner. Don't slow down…ow!"

"Sorry!"

"It's fine, everyone does that."

"I still can't see!" the cowardly soldier told his friends when they caught him a second time.

"Once more, then!"

"I don't think that's such a good ideaaaaaa!" Again he flew up to the window. "Hey, I can see her this time…!"

CRACK!

He shot back to the ground like a failed firework and crashed on the cobblestones, the remains of a potted cactus sticking out of his head plant-first. His friends slowly looked up to see Maria standing at the window, fully dressed and looking quite ready to end them all.

"Anyone else?" she snapped.

The soldiers were gone before she could finish the question, carrying their unconscious friend with him. Rolling her eyes, she closed the window and drew the curtains. "Didn't think so."

Chuy was still curled up on the bed, snoring away. The recording had reached its end, and Manolo was standing befuddled in the spot where she'd left him. "What was that?"

"You don't want to know." She sighed and rubbed her forehead, then gave him a reassuring smile. "Let's try that again."

Nodding eagerly, Manolo reset the record. "May I have this dance, señora?"

She took his outstretched hand in one of hers and placed her other on his shoulder. He rested his on her waist, and off they went in something approximating a waltz. "Don't look at your feet so much," she said, lifting his chin up. "That's what tripped you up last time. Just keep up with the music. One, two, three, one, two, three…"

He picked up his pace and narrowly avoided colliding with his guitar stand. "Tell me more about Europe."

"I already did. I loved the art and the books and the music, that sort of thing. It was wonderful." The simple answer had been all that everyone else wanted to hear.

Manolo pulled her closer to him. "I mean really tell me, every little thing. I'm listening."

"Why are you doing all this?" she asked before she could stop herself. It was appreciated, no doubt of that. But he must have known that every other man in town would kill to be in his place, and yet he'd let Chuy have the bed and started asking her about her travels and could they practice dancing a little more?

He gently ran a hand through her hair, as though worried that he would damage it or cause her to disappear. "I…" He bit his lip, searching for the right words. "I know you weren't expecting today to turn out like it did. Neither was I." He forced a smile, seemingly apologizing for some perceived weakness.

"Well, I'd be concerned on a number of levels if you were." Maria rested her head against his chest and let her eyes drift shut as she listened to his heartbeat. She could feel it through his skin, louder than she thought it would be and quickened by her sudden proximity. It slowed to a calmer pace as the minutes passed, while he wrapped his arm around her waist and began to hum along with the music.

Her eyes began to sting, and she realized that she was blinking back tears. We almost lost this. She'd been certain she would never see him again a few hours ago, let alone be this close to him. And on the heels of this thought slithered a new one: how long will it last this time?

She didn't notice how tightly she was gripping him until he pulled away to look at her. "Maria, what's wrong?"

THUD. They both yelped as something landed on the roof of their house, shaking the walls and raining bits of plaster down on their heads. "That was unnecessary and you know it!" a familiar female voice snapped.

"Oh, they'll live. Think of it as a wake-up call. This is their house, isn't it?"

"How should I know? You guys made the bet."

They pushed open the hatch in the attic and clambered onto the roof, each with a sword in hand. Manolo came out first, holding a lantern in front of him. "Hello?" he called out, moving the flickering circle of light around as he walked. No sign of the gods. "Can we help you…?"

"I think we've helped them enough for one day," Maria muttered as she followed him.

"Our thoughts exactly."

Manolo jumped and dropped the lantern, which clattered to the ground and went out. "Don't move!" they heard the Candle Maker chirp. "I got this!"

The two mortals watched as a stream of glowing candle wax began to pour out of thin air and pool at their feet. It divided itself into a cluster of tiny candles that flickered to life and floated apart, forming a fence around the perimeter of the roof. "Now that's more like it."

One second they weren't there, and the next they were. La Muerte grinned down at them, the crystals in her skin glittering under the candlelight. The Candle Maker stood next to her, practically bouncing up and down with excitement, and behind her lurked an inky black shape that still watched his former prey with more fascination than he would like to admit.

Manolo put his sword down and bowed. "My lady. My lords. What brings you here?"

"No need for all of that," La Muerte answered, nodding her head in return. "And there's no need to worry, Maria. My husband brings only goodwill."

"Come now, my dear," the winged god said as he sauntered into view, "you say that like she's expecting something else."

Maria stepped closer to Manolo and glared at Xibalba. "You didn't exactly bring us goodwill yesterday morning."

"Alright, you got me there." He turned to Manolo. "Nice girl. Honest."

"Can I go first?" the Candle Maker blurted out.

"Of course," said La Muerte.

"Go first with what?" Manolo asked.

"Our gifts."

"Gifts?"

"Yes, those things you mortals use to hijack every holiday that's not normally about yourselves," Xibalba remarked. "Usually involved at special occasions? A category that includes weddings? Ringing any bells here?"

Manolo rolled his eyes. "I think you've gotten the point across."

"Although they're more like blessings in this context. Kind of an abstract thing. But if you'd rather prefer a pet serpent or having your enemies burned to a crisp while you laugh at them…"

"I'm sure whatever you three already have planned will be lovely," Manolo said. "Right, Maria?"

Maria nodded, but her grip on the handle of her sword only tightened.

"Me first! I've been practicing!" the Candle Maker proclaimed. "Everyone step back! I'm gonna do the thing." Rubbing his hands together, he took a deep breath and drew himself up to his full height. "My friends. By my ancient powers, I give to you the gift of a long and happy life together. Your sorrows shall be few and fleeting. You shall live to an old age. You shall have many children and grandchildren, to love and be loved by. And they are gonna be so cute!" He clapped his hands together, and up the candles rose, floating around Manolo and Maria in a circle.

The mortals' apprehension melted away, and their eyes lit up in wonder at the sight. Two of the candles came to rest in front of them when the circle retreated back to the edges of the roof. "Y'all can keep those," the Candle Maker added. "They'll only burn out when you do."

La Muerte applauded him. "Beautifully done! Would you like to go next, dear, or shall I?"

Xibalba slunk a few steps away. "Best for last."

"We'll see," she answered with a raised eyebrow, then plucked two marigolds from her hat. "Dearest mortals. By my ancient powers, I give you both the gift of a peaceful death. Your lives in this world shall not be cut short by tragedy and pain. You shall depart with your loved ones around you, and they shall not despair at your passing. They will know that you have gone to my land and shall live there forever in happiness."

With a graceful breath, she blew the marigolds out of her hands and down to Manolo and Maria. They each caught one and stared at the flowers with awe. The thin petals faded from orange to yellow and gave off a faint glow like distant stars.

La Muerte smiled triumphantly. "Your turn, Balby. Be nice."

"I wouldn't dare otherwise." Xibalba could feel the warm reception turn frigid as he glided forward. Manolo's smile faded as he tucked an arm around Maria and pulled her to his side. Both of their gazes were fixed on the staff he carried, with its purple scales and two heads. "First off, stop looking like I'm about to curse your firstborn."

"What are you doing to do, then?" Maria said to him. Her tone was cold and defiant, but the tinge of fear within it was unmistakable.

Xibalba sighed. "I'm not giving you flowers or a light show. It's not my thing, and we'd all be better off not seeing what would happen if I tried. But I can give you something I have given no mortal before. My apology, and my penance."

Spreading his wings, he tapped his staff on the ground and brought it to life. "Manolo and Maria Sanchez. By my ancient powers, I give you the gift you deserve most. You shall indeed know long life and peaceful death, and live happily in the Land of the Remembered. And when the time to pass on comes, one shall not leave behind the other. You shall take your last breaths in the same moment and enter the afterlife hand in hand. Never again shall you know the pain of being parted by death."

He motioned to his snake, which slithered away from him to wind itself around the couple's feet. Instead of baring its fangs, it gently nudged their ankles with its snouts. They didn't flinch, too stunned by the god's words to move at all.

"How was that, you two?" he said to the Candle Maker and La Muerte as he summoned the snake back. "Not very flashy, I know."

The Candle Maker looked surprised, but La Muerte was smirking with pride. "Now that wasn't so bad, was it?"

"So-so." He returned his attention to the mortals. "And what do you say?"

Maria put down her sword and stepped forward. She tried once and then twice to speak before sinking down into a humble curtsey. "Thank you…"

Manolo took her hand. "Yes. Thank you," he added. "All of you."

"Don't mention it," Xibalba answered. "Ever."

La Muerte looked to the sky. "Dios mío, look at the time!" The moon was low on the horizon, and the faint light of the sunrise was creeping up on its heels. "Our day has come to an end. For now." She curtsied to Manolo and Maria before vanishing in a flash of gold. "Adiós!"

The Candle Maker followed, gathering his creations back into a pool of wax which he melted into. "See ya, guys!" The glowing liquid seeped away into a hole in the air and was no more.

With a flap of his wings, Xibalba took to the air. "People will remember yesterday for quite a while," he mused. "I suspect I won't see you two again. But," he added, "I've been wrong before." With that, he soared off and vanished. Manolo and Maria watched him go, turning his words over in their minds.

Manolo was the first to speak afterwards. "Are you alright?" he asked, touching Maria's shoulder.

Maria stared at him for a moment, then grinned, grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and pulled him in for a kiss. "Couldn't be better."