I am depressed.

Not because of the fact that I only got one review since the last post. Not because of the fact that I was forced to work on a Saturday. No, it was all because of the iCarly finale, iGoodbye.

It could be because the story didn't feel like a series finale at all, but rather like a regular episode with supplemental storylines that had no relation to the end of iCarly at all (seriously, Gibby with a fake head and a weasel? So what?). It could be because the episode felt rushed, that they only gave 25% of the episode to the fact that Carly was leaving, and that leaving in itself was ludicrously settled upon. It also could have been because there was no real resolution of the Seddie vs. Creddie ships, merely bones thrown to us in the form of 2 scenes that did nothing but make the entire iCarly fanbase furious (for a more detailed analysis, see the Bickering Sidekicks iCarly forum).

The episode was heart-wrenchingly touching, but for the above things. And that ruined it for me. Of course, that is just my opinion, and if anyone wants to educate me on why I am wrong, please leave a comment.

iCarly is dead. Long live Sam & Cat...if it gets green-lighted, of course.

This story will continue to get posted, of course. I will be updating this until the end of the year, where I shall round this collection off with a oneshot for New Years. Prepare for it!

In the meantime, I would like to give a shout out to my only reviewer since the last chapter, Kezziexx. Thank you for your kind words, and I will indeed keep it up to the best of my abilities. Thanks again.

iCarly was fun while it lasted. Seddiers, we shall never die.

iSTEAL THE SPOTLIGHT: PART 2

Location: Highway Z17
Time: 0645 hours

Carly yawned.

The brunette girl was definitely not feeling one hundred percent at the moment. She was groggy, tired and annoyed. Despite the fact that Carly usually awoke earlier than this on normal school days, she never had to contend with sharing a room with her older, yet seemingly less mature brother.

Carly recalled hour after hour of Spencer constantly jumping out of bed and (noisily) heading to the bathroom, the only explanation being given was that his chocolate milkshake from lunch was making an encore appearance. After about three hours, Spencer finally stopped leaving his bed….and began tossing and turning for the next hour in a bid to find the most comfortable spot. He ceased his movement only after Carly threatened to sabotage his underwear with industrial-grade itching powder, but then began snoring loud enough to rattle the furniture in a never-before-seen display of hotel room acoustics.

It kept her awake for most of the night.

iCarly's titular host grimaced as a tiny stab of pain shot up through her skull. Grabbing some aspirin, she washed it down with some extra-strength Peppy Cola to give her an energy boost to get through the day. As she put it back in the cup-holder, she turned and gave her brother a glare.

Spencer looked apologetic. "Look, Carls, I already said I'm sorry. I've always been snoring loudly ever since that hedgehog crawled in my sleeping bag and –"

"Alright!" Carly interrupted, too tired to have the story go on any further. She gave her brother a weak smile. "Let's just get this over with."

"M'okay!" her brother yelled excitedly, not noticing that Carly grimaced again. He revved the car for good measure and sped on his way.

Carly massaged her temples. It was going to be a long day….

Location: The Schneider Exhibition Centre, Gallery Room G
Time: 0745 hours

Carly Shay, with arms laden with art supplies and several rolls of toilet paper, manoeuvred her way through the large double doors from the main lobby. She dumped them unceremoniously onto the stage and sat down on it herself, taking a moment to glance around the room. There was nothing special, a stage that was curtained off and some chairs. By all standards, it was relatively small, almost like the room used for press conferences. The brunette had flashbacks to the room that the iCarly trio were in during the last Webicon and shuddered at the memories of the infamous fan war.

Turning to the door she just entered, Carly yelled, "Spencer!" in a bid to hurry her brother to get the setup done as quickly as possible. A few seconds later, her lanky brother barged through the door with a pushcart full of more art supplies. Oddly enough, Carly spotted several toilet plungers and an electric toaster in that cart. She could have also sworn that she saw something moving in there. However, knowing her brother's wild and wacky sculptures, she decided not to ask.

Spencer had collapsed into a nearby chair, breathing heavily and clearly exhausted. "Man!" he gasped, wiping sweat off his brow. "That cart was weighty! I must have pushed that," he gestured at the heavily-laden cart, "for like, fifty miles!"

His sister looked at him, unimpressed. "Spencer, we've only been walking for three minutes. You," Carly continued, giving him a playful shove, "need to start exercising."

Ignoring the pained look on her brother's face and his faux-pitiful groans, Carly swung around in surprise when the double doors swung open and a well-suited man strode in. Tall, pompous, and with immaculately slicked-back hair, he carried himself with the air of one who is in authority and who is used to being in control. It was obvious to everyone that he was in charge of this event.

Spencer leapt to his feet, his earlier fatigue forgotten. "Hey there!" he greeted cheerfully. "I'm Spencer Shay, and I'm really grateful for the opportunity t-"

The man rudely brushed him aside without so much as a sideways glance before his gaze fell on Carly. Instantly, his face was all smiles. Grasping Carly's hand, he shook it repeatedly as he blurted out, "Miss Shay! Thank you so much for coming! I'm Ash Morgan, Exhibition Manager, and it's so good of you to do this for our humble exhibition centre free of charge. This is such a tremendous occasion – "

"Do what free of charge?" Carly interrupted, looking confused.

Releasing Carly's hand, Mr Morgan took a step back and hit a button on a nearby wall panel. The curtains on the stage slowly pulled back to reveal not the special arrangement of sculptures and whiteboards that Spencer was supposed to exhibit, but rather, monitors showing clips from iCarly with promotional posters of the trio. There was even a huge iCarly sign that was lit up with neon lights.

Saying that both Shays were shocked would be putting it mildly. Both of them were flabbergasted. Carly was the first to recover. "I-I thought this exhibition was to exhibit Spencer's artwork?"

"Yeah!" Spencer added.

Mr Morgan merely smiled. "Truthfully, the gallery board and I had no time for Mr Shay's," he motioned with air quotation marks, "'art'. No, the real draw is to have iCarly's own Carly Shay here to give a talk and field questions with your fans for today and tomorrow morning! Your brother's exhibition was merely a…little untruth…to get you to come. The gallery is going to be packed, we'll all make a lot of money, and I'll finally have enough to buy that pony I've always wanted!" The Exhibition Manager finished his speech with a smug grin.

The elder Shay was the first to reply. "Wait…then what did you do with all the sculptures I sent over last week to be set up in advance?"

"Oh, they're somewhere in the back room." Mr Morgan answered. Seeing Spencer sighing in relief, saying, "Oh, thank goodness they're safe", Mr Morgan clarified his earlier statement with an "Actually, they're in the garbage room. Garbage Truck leaves in ten minutes."

At that, Spencer yelped and dashed out, yelling, "Stop that truck!" at the top of his lungs and waving his hands wildly.

While Mr Morgan was watching the spectacle with a raised eyebrow, Carly was not one to be distracted by her brother's antics. "That is a dirty trick," she said, clearly annoyed.

"No way!" Mr Morgan turned back to the brunette girl, a wounded look on his face. "The truck actually leaves in five minutes. I just tried to give him some hope."

iCarly's titular host was not amused. "I meant, the whole scam to bring me here in the first place. Once Spencer gets his sculptures back, we're both out of here."

The Exhibition Manager's demeanour instantly softened as he took a step forward, his tone tinged with sincerity. "Try to look at it this way, Miss Shay. Not only will this bring great publicity to the Gallery, but this will bring publicity to as well! Plus, I also asked some writers from the Webs and Shows Magazine to come – apparently they're interested in doing an article on the host of iCarly...?" The hint was strongly evident.

Carly wavered. After all, she reasoned to herself, iCarly can always use the extra publicity…and the magazine article wouldn't hurt either…"

The younger Shay nodded slowly. "Fine," she growled. "But only for one day."

"And tomorrow morning?"

"Yes!" came the exasperated reply. "But that's it!"

"Of course! Of course!" Mr Morgan grinned, clapping his hands together. For a moment, Carly thought she saw a hint of smugness behind his delight. But that moment was lost as Mr Morgan strode to the double doors and threw them open, allowing a human deluge of screaming iCarly fans to enter. That moment was replaced with the blinding lights of camera flashes and teenagers crying her name, and her earlier misgivings about Spencer and Mr Morgan disappearing as she waved at her fans.

Perhaps this exhibition might be fun after all…

Location: Ridgeway High School
Time: 1230 hours

Moving stealthily, Freddie Benson opened his locker and replaced his history books inside. Glancing around furtively, he removed a Tupperware box from the top shelf with the same care as a bomb disposal expert. Inside was a prize that was of more value to him at the moment than all the PearPad Minis in Hoboken. His lunch today was a Ham & Cabbage sandwich, and with meat-loving Sam's near-superhuman powers of meat detection, it wouldn't be long before the feisty blonde would appear and rob him of his delicious lunch. But, as Freddie took out his lunchbox, he noticed something strange: Sam didn't appear. And he looked around the school halls, he noticed that, despite it being lunchtime, the halls were unusually quiet and empty of the typical noisily loafing students enjoying their own lunch.

Very strange… Freddie wondered. There has to be an explanation…

Glancing at the Tupperware container in his hand, he also noticed that it felt oddly lighter than usual. He opened it and sighed at its lack of contents. The sandwich was gone; all that was left were a few crumbs, and a note: Better luck next time, Freddork. Hate, Sam.

"Well, that explains why Sam isn't here…" Freddie muttered, chucking the empty container back into his locker and slamming the door shut in a fit of annoyance. He took a deep breath to calm himself. While that solved one mystery, that still left the question of why no one else was here either. Then, almost as if on cue, he heard a faint noise from outside the school – the excited rabble of a crowd of students. Curious, Freddie made his way down the hallway, through the double doors of the entrance and stepped onto the parking lot. And there, what he saw stunned him into an open-mouthed silence.

There, before his eyes, were the majority of the Ridgeway senior student body wielding dangerous implements such as sledgehammers, crowbars, baseball bats and so on. Freddie even caught sight of a hockey stick being hefted by a particularly stocky-looking tough. But what really stunned him weren't the crowds of people, nor the weapons they were carrying. It was the fact that they were swinging them with gusto at a nearby car, smashing the windows, doors, roof and every other exposed part of the vehicle before taking a step back and letting someone else take their place.

"Sam." The Benson boy growled, perceptive enough to know that, wherever such wanton acts of vandalism were taking place, there was a near probable chance that the Puckett child was behind it. And sure enough, Freddie spotted the blonde girl herself seated behind a flimsy table, accepting money from the students in return for the loan of a weapon. Setting his jaw, Freddie marched forward, grabbed Sam by the upper arm and, despite her protests, hauled her over to a more secluded area of the car park.

"Sam, what in the name of platypi are you doing?" Freddie asked.

The co-host of iCarly cocked an eyebrow, giving Freddie a condescending look that questioned his intelligence. "Ever heard of a good ol' fashioned car smash, Benson? People pay you money to smash a car to teeny little pieces." She held up her thumb and index finger a millimetre apart in front of Freddie's face to emphasise 'teeny'.

Batting Sam's hand away in annoyance, Freddie jerked his thumb at the bashed vehicle behind him. "How did you get a car for them to smash?" he shot back.

Sam shrugged. "Easy. It's Miss Briggs's car."

Freddie blanched, eyes growing wide. "Miss Briggs, our teacher?"

"No, Miss Briggs, the Slovakian ballet dancer with the pet unicorn," came the sarcastic response back. "Of course Miss Briggs our teacher, doofus! I just….didn't tell her that her car was going to be volunteered."

By now, Freddie's eyes were wider than satellite dishes. "You know that if she catches you, you'll be expelled, hung, drawn, quartered, and keelhauled, right?! And all at the same time, too!"

"Keelhauled?" Sam looked puzzled for a second.

Freddie's face took on an annoyed look. "My point is, Sam," he continued, "Perhaps our talents are better used … in combination with each others'."

Sam's blank face was answer enough. Sighing, Freddie went on. "While we spend the whole time arguing over what prize to get, there are others who are catching up to us. I even heard that Gibby is making some serious moolah as well."

Sam looked surprised. "Gibby? Making money?"

Freddie shrugged. "Apparently, it has something to do with chipped marble, chocolate milk, and goodness knows what else. Oh, and he's going shirtless again."

Rolling her eyes, the blonde folded her arms and asked, "Well? What do you suggest, Freddork?"

"We team up." Freddie answered, instantly holding a hand up to quell any biting rebuttals. "Think about it. I have the technical knowhow, you have the creativity, and plus," Freddie motioned to the smashed car, "you did promise your parole officer – and Carly – that you'll stay out of trouble."

Sam looked thoughtful for a second, glancing up at Freddie and clearly mulling over his proposal. But before she could speak, one of the students suddenly screamed out "Miss Briggs! She's coming!"

Instantly, before you could say "Vandalism-Schmandalism", the students extricated themselves from the scene of the crime faster than water leaving Gibby's grandfather's bladder. Throwing their weapons to the ground, the student body streaked away at the speed of bacon down Sam's gullet. In the space of seconds, there was nary a living soul in the car park.

Freddie and Sam hadn't been standing still either. When the cry rang out, both of them moved in unusual synchronicity, the latter shoving the stacks of payment money into her bag while the former packed up the table, and both taking off into the safety of the school halls. Peeking around the corner to make sure that they were finally safe, Sam breathed a sigh of relief. Any words she would have said were lost when an anguished cry from a teacher who discovered that her car was currently crushed, smashed and mangled beyond repair, rang out.

Despite themselves, the duo broke out in peals of laughter. After their giggles died down, Sam leant against the lockers and faced Freddie, winking coyly.

"Guess I owe you one. So, what's the plan, pard-ner?"

Remember to leave a comment or review! Hearts and PearPhones all around!

- NUMBUH777