Just a Happy Ending

Give an Amen

Henry set down his pencil. The pages of sketches spread over the table were testament to the past hours of chatting and drawing. But now his attention was turned to the unconscious inkling in the other room.

Mainly because he'd started talking.

Henry and Buddy abandoned the papers, walking quickly to the makeshift bedroom. Henry stopped by the cot, where he'd relocated Sammy.

The musician was still asleep, though he turned and tossed, caught in a dream. "The ritual must be completed. Soon he will hear us. He will set us free."

Henry kneeled down, "What the..." he shook Sammy's shoulder, "Sammy? Can you hear me?"

"Sheep, sheep, sheep. It's time for sleep."

"Oh, shut up, please," Henry muttered over the chanting. He managed to turn Sammy onto his back, which helped with the tossing.

"I summon you, Ink Demon!"

Henry shook the inkling a bit more, "Why are you giving your spiel?" he asked, "Wake up, Sammy!"

Sammy couldn't hear him. His hands suddenly swept upward. "Free me, I beg you! No, my lord! Stay back! I am your Prophet, I am your- AAHHHH!" His back arched as he cried out.

Henry grit his teeth and hauled Sammy upright. "Samuel Adam Lawrence! Wake up!"

Sammy's eyes snapped open. Henry almost dropped him, startled by the wide, glowing, solid gold eyes.

Sammy stared blankly for a few moments. He blinked slowly, then his gaze focused on Henry. His eyes widened even more and he reached up slowly. "My... lord?"

He fell limp. His eyes half-closed as his body ragdolled. Henry let him back down onto the cot. "Sammy?"

Nothing. Not even a blink.

Buddy whined. He watched as Henry tried sitting Sammy upright and lightly slapping him. Not a flinch. Henry held the inkling by the shoulders and tried talking to him.

Still nothing.

Buddy didn't hear what Henry said next. If he said anything. Only thing he was aware of was that the man left.

The back door of his safehouse clicked shut.

Boris panicked. Did he just go back the way he'd come running from the Demon?!

Be quiet, Buddy ordered. He figured it best to go see if Henry went the direction his mental passenger was afraid of.

I won't have to go through the door. Just make sure Henry gets back through it. He wanted to head back to the Music Studio itself, but stopping at the door was the only compromise the wolf would let him act on.

Meanwhile, Henry tiptoed down a horribly quiet hallway. He stepped over the broken head of his axe and a few boards. Almost there. Around a corner.

Bingo. Back to the room and his target: the banjo. He softly stepped forward. His fingers curled around the neck. He lifted it.

Well, so far, so-

Five Wanderers popped into existence. Their hissing sent a shiver down Henry's spine.

... not good!

He turned and ran.

"What do you think you're doing back here?!" a Bendy clone roared. More clones and half a dozen Searchers sprang from puddles.

As Henry ran, it seemed like the space behind him filled with Wanderers, clones, and Searchers, way more than Henry thought possible. The adrenaline and terror shooting through his veins spurred him on at a speed he hadn't attained in years. Round a corner, another, home stretch to a door with a worried wolf's snout poking around it.