Okay, before you all decide to murder me in my sleep for making you wait a month, hear me out! I've been studying for exams and whatnot, and I just didn't have time. And what time I did have was spent either at work or at the gym. . My muse went to Hawaii while my actual logic-part of the brain had to study-study-study.

So, lemme get to responding to those that reviewed, so we can get on with it, espcially considering I had aoirei spazzing back in November. xD SPN Mum, you have to wonder how much of that the writer's did intentionally (in the beginnings of Supernatural). We all know that the tension between Sam and Dean was heightened to much because of the fans desire to have it. I'm glad that I was able to keep them as in-character as possible, so that does mean a lot to hear that you think that. It's one thing a lot of people struggle with, which is partially why this chapter took so long. I hate to say that this is the finale of this story. And, to be honest, Ice Dragon3, that's one thing I do tend to catch myself doing (putting too much information in between dialogue). Unfortunately, I don't catch it when I read through it the first time before posting. Not until I go back and I'm like, "Why did I put that? I could have omitted that." Otherwise, since Sam and Dean never come out and say anything, it let me work around it, too; especially since I tend to do the same thing when approached by someone (friend or whomever). xD So...it's kinda like I'm working with myself in a sense. Does that make sense?

OMFG, the boys ARE frustrating, eh, Twinchester Angel? Let's just be glad they're so sexy and cute and adorable and -goes on 10-page-long rant-. When I said it was gonna be a "love or hate chapter", it was because I wasn't sure if I handled their "confessions" the way everyone wanted them to be handled. To be perfectly honest, this chapter serious with crack. So...serious crack? Heh heh. You'll find out at the end what I'm talking about and I'll also respond to the idea of a sequel. OH! And did you HEAR? Misha Collins WILL be returning to Supernatural! It's just that we don't know if he's coming back as Castiel or someone else. They're keeping it all hush-hush. ...and I fangirled, too, when Ellen came in. x3 You HAVE to let me know what you thought of this chapter! I was trying SO HARD not to disappoint everyone!

Disclaimer: I own the plot and that's it!

14

Attitude #70

"Dean, would you hurry up? We'll pick something up on the way."

Sam took the backpack off of his shoulder, looking over the opened door to the Impala to the park across the street; kids were playing while under the supervision of their parents or sitters. The sun reflected brightly off of anything it could gain a reflection off of, including other vehicles, park equipment, windows and the like, a light wind was picking up, rustling the trees and sifting dead ones across the parking lot, calling for anyone out to have on at least a light sweater or jacket. Two and a half weeks later and Dean finally deemed Sam fit enough to pick back up; granted, it took a lot of coercing from Sam and, once his wounds were healed to large scabs, Dean finally caved.

Sam glanced over his shoulder when he heard groaning behind him, along with Dean hauling two different bags. Sam turned back and put the backpack carrying the laptop in the backseat of the car. He pulled back and shut the door just as Dean walked around to the back of the car to put the other bags in the trunk. He slammed the trunk shut and looked to Sam, who raised his brows and set his arms on top of the car.

"Wherever we stop, you can't bitch." Sam laughed lightly as Dean walked around to stand behind him. "I gotta say, Sammy, kinda got used to you hobblin' around. Now you just look stupid." He smirked when Sam frowned, turning his head to give him a disappointed look. Dean raised his eyebrows and leaned on top of the car next to Sam, who went back to overlooking the park. "You know, if I find out your lying, I'm kicking your ass."

Sam gave him a look that was a mix between a frown, disappointment and annoyance. "Really? So you'd purposefully make it to where I can't move. Smart one."

Dean shrugged, his lip formed to a half-smirk. "Well, I am full of smart ideas. Thing is that I don't want you pushing yourself and ending up Shit's Creek without a paddle."

"Good terminology," he responded with a light smirk, causing Dean to chuckled and shake his head. "Look, we've been over this a thousand times. I'm fine." He drew out the last sentence.

"Yeah, I know you are." Sam rolled his eyes at the sarcasm. "Well, let's get out of here," he said, pushing off the car. "At this rate, my stomach's gonna eat itself if I don't get some damn food." Dean hit Sam on his back pocket, making him jump and shoot him a glare as he watched Dean walk around the car before getting in on the driver's side. He followed to do the same, only to the passenger's side, but not before inhaling the air one last time. He shut the door and adjusted his position as Dean started the car. "Oh…beautiful, I know you've been bored without me."

Sam merely shook his head as Dean pulled out of the parking spot and moved the car onto the road. They passed the park and buildings, heading for highway 61 and leaving the town they had taken up residence for the last two weeks behind, dragging only memories like all places. As Dean went on muttering to himself and cursing Sam for making them leave without food when the motel offered a free continental breakfast, Sam peered out the window, his own thoughts drifting.

As the weeks had gone by, the nightmare, or Night Terrors, as they were more apt to be called, lessened bit by bit. Occasionally, he would wake up, still believing the dreams were reality and what he found truly odd was that, more times than once, Dean would be awake, chalking it up to insomnia; to which Sam knew he was putting on a façade, but he left it alone. Many times, he was hoping Dean would do the same and just let things be, but Dean barely trusted him and he made that quite apparent: he rarely let Sam out of view; whether it was because he was paranoid Sam might have a flashback or because Sam was hardly mobile was left unanswered and unsure. Yet, the remainder of their free time was spent trying to track down whatever demon was bent on getting them out of the picture, since they knew that Belial was only a pawn. Even with his list of contacts, Bobby was also coming up empty-handed and Castiel fared no better; which was a lot to say. For being whatever it was, the demon was incredibly difficult to track down and any other demon that knew anything about them refused to speak, despite interrogation methods known to hunters.

The upside to staying busy with the researching was that it kept their minds off of other matters – matters that they would rather leave in the dark.

Sam was pulled out of his thoughts when the car ran over a pothole, pulling onto the old highway 61. Sam stretched in the seat, receiving a glance from Dean.

"I thought you were gonna stop for food?"

Dean looked back to the road and shrugged. "Oh, don't worry. We are." Sam knitted his eyebrows. "That chick at the gas station said there's a diner on this road with pie to die for."

Sam's chest jumped in an odd laugh. "Of course."

"What?" Dean asked, giving him a curious sideways look. "You can't argue with pie, Sam."

"I didn't say anything."

"I know you didn't…bitch."

Sam only stared back in disbelief. "Jerk."

There was a moment of silence filling the car right before they both started laughing.

As the tape track in the background fell into the chorus, Dean reached down and turned it up, blaring Living on a Prayer and drowning out all other noise. Sam just continued to laugh as Dean began beating on the steering wheel, bobbing his head as he looked at Sam, following the words of the song.

-o-o-o-o-o-

Sam's expression was flooded with disbelief, staring ahead to where they were pulling up to. With the exception of an auto-repair shop, the only thing on the road was a diner – the diner the woman had told Dean about, which was just as rundown as any abandoned building in the Bronx. Even with its remote location, there were cars in the gravel parking lot and two mechanics were seen working on a car in the shop's garage. Sam turned to look at Dean.

"There is no way you're serious about this place."

Dean turned into the parking lot, wheels crunching on the gravel as he pulled into a parking spot next to an old, red Chevrolet pickup truck. He shut the ignition off, took out the keys and leaned back in the seat to turn his head to face his brother. "Oh, I'm always serious when it comes to food. C'mon. Isn't there some bull about not judging a car by its paintjob or…whatever?" He smirked right before opening the car door and stepping out, shutting it and leaving Sam to scoff and stare out of the windshield to the diner. His gaze followed Dean as his brother knocked on the hood to the Impala, motioning for Sam to get out. Releasing a groan, he followed after Dean, making sure to give the car door an aggravated slam, much to the dismay of the other.

When they entered the diner, they were only acknowledged by one of the servers, who smiled and nodded to them. They returned the gesture before turning to find a table, grabbing an open one in the corner at the end of the metal building. The inside was brightly lit, as were most diners, giving off a cheap, family-oriented feel, much like a Denny's on Christmas: awkward and way too cheery. Silverware clinked against plates and cups as the people in the diner chattered while enjoying whatever it was they had ordered – more than half of the diner was occupied, proving that, even given their location of outer appearance, they were popular with the surrounding locals.

Menus were tucked between the wall and holder for the condiments. They grabbed the laminated, two-sheet menus and, as Sam began scanning through the items, one of the server's walked up to the table.

"All right, is this gonna be together or separate?" she asked, a thick southern accent accompanying her voice.

"Together."

"Awesome – so what can I get started for ya?" She met Dean's eyes after he had spoken, slipping him a coy smile.

Sam glanced up from the menu, drawing her attention. "Coffee."

The server nodded and looked to Dean as Sam looked back down. "Better make that two." He winked and smirked, getting a smile and a close laugh from the waitress.

"All right, I'll be right back," she said as she lightly touched Dean's shoulder before walking away from their table.

Dean watched her walk away, and then turned back to Sam, who was still looking over the menu in front of him. "She's cute." Sam did not respond verbally, only nodded; to which Dean exhaled and shook his head. "Well, I thought she was," he mumbled as he picked up the menu, just failing to catch Sam smirking. "All right. Let's see what they've got – oh my god." He sounded shocked, staring wide-eyed at the menu, having Sam glance to him with knitted eyebrows.

"What?"

"Dude…they have an entire section dedicated to pie."

Sam frowned at Dean's gaped reaction and went back to looking over the menu while Dean gave him a disbelieving look, almost seeming hurt. He exchanged looks of annoyance and went back to the list of assorted desserts, silently cursing his brother. The raven-haired waitress returned moments after, holding a tray with hot coffees and a tin of cream, which she set on the table before placing the tray under her arm.

"Have we come to a decision?" she asked, glancing at Sam, but drawing her full attention to Dean.

"I'll get a number two," Sam said as he tucked the menu back between the wall and the holder.

She quickly looked to Sam. "Medium?" He nodded and she diverted her attention back to Dean. "And what about you, handsome?"

"Now I've got a question for you," he started, setting the menu back in its place before looking back to the server, his quirky smile on his face. "Which pie would you say is your best?"

"Well, I'm entitled to say all of them, but if I had to choose a favourite, I'd go with Chef Rob's Grasshopper."

With a grin, Dean turned to face Sam. "Well, I think I know what I'm goin' for." Sam scoffed, shaking his head, teeth visible as he stared down at the table and began fiddling with the napkin-wrapped utensils. The waitress released a breath that came out in a half-chuckle.

"So a Number Two and a Grasshopper. Don't worry," she said, attracting Dean's attention as she lightly nudged his shoulder with the back of her hand. "I'll take care of you boys." She smiled again, leaving their table to put in the orders.

Dean watched her walk away again; as she passed one of the other servers, they exchanged words, making both of them laugh before she went back to the counter. Sam shifting was what drew his attention and he stretched back in his seat before leaning forward with his forearms on the table.

"So what's a Number Two, anyway?" he asked, reaching back to grab a menu. Sam watched him take one, seemingly only partially paying attention to what was going on. He shook his head, shaking his thoughts; but before he was able to respond, Dean frowned, peeking at him over the laminated sheet. "Really?" the tone being sarcastic.

"What?"

Dean scoffed and put the menu back. "You are such a girl." He grinned at his brother, who was awkwardly moving his head in a dismissive manner. Dean kicked him under the table, making Sam flinch and glare at him, to which Dean merely winked at him. "Hey, lighten up, Sammy. Smile a bit, would you? Don't need you all moody."

"I'm not moody." His curious look met Dean's stern gaze.

"Sam…you on the rag aga – OW!" He pulled his leg back and held it under the table, cursing at Sam, who had started laughing. The few people that were around them could not help but glance over at what was happening and, once their curiosity was satiated, they turned back to their own business, whatever it may have been. Dean shot Sam a glare as he sat straight, rubbing his shin, and then stretched it out. He tried to kick Sam in return, but he had been expecting retaliation and moved his legs flush against the seat. "You think you're cute, don't you?"

Sam smirked, raising his eyebrows. He debated on what to answer before coming out with, "Yeah. Actually, I do."

Dean sneered when Sam laughed at his expression. He muttered something that was inaudible to Sam as he reached for one of the two coffee cups sitting on the table. Apparently, Sam has the same idea, whereas they both ended up reaching for the same cup. Dean fingers fell over Sam's and they both fell silent. Cautiously, Dean slowly traced his eyes to Sam's face, who was staring at their met hands. The air seemed to come to a standstill, neither saying a word; but when Dean's fingers lightly moved, Sam inhaled deeply, tensing, before gripping the cup and pulling his hand back. Immediately following, Dean grabbed the other cup and pulled it in front of him.

"So what's the name of the town we're going to, again?" Sam asked, avoiding Dean's eyes as he grabbed the sugar canister that was against the wall.

"Uh…Cowen." He watched Sam pour some into his coffee. "Not too far from here, and Bobby wants us to check out the pastor while we're there. Something about things disappearing from the church or something – kinda sketchy on the details."

"And what makes him think it's something up our alley?"

"What's gone missing. You know, candles, a Bible, a bowl made out of bone"—at that, Sam lifted his head up—"an old grimoire. The usual."

"Why would a church even have that?" Dean grabbed the canister after Sam had set it down.

"That's what we're gonna find out. C'mon, Sam. Are the lights on in that big head of yours?"

"Sorry, they checked out about an hour after you did." He smirked at Dean's sneer.

Unfortunately, the past two weeks had been filled with an overabundance of back-and-forth banter – both trying to ignore everything that had happened and everything that had been laid out in the open. For the most part, they acted as though nothing had changed: once or twice, they had even played a prank on each other, which all started when Dean replaced Sam's toothpaste with hand lotion.

"All right, I have a Number 2 for you." They both pulled straight as the waitress came back with a plate in each hand. She set the one with an open-faced hamburger in front of Sam, and then went to set a plate with a six-inch thick slice of pie in front of Dean. "And for the man of the hour. Hope you've got room, there, cowboy," she said, pulling back and tucking the tray under her arm.

"Not much he doesn't have room for," Sam snorted.

Dean moved his lips in a mocking motion as he grabbed his fork, and, though it was slight, for a moment, Sam thought he caught a glimpse of fury and detest on the server's face. It was gone as soon before he even blinked. He made a glance to Dean, who did not seem to notice and was solely focused on the food in front of him as he let his fork glide through it.

"Well, I'll let you two eat," she spoke again, facing away from the table, her back to Sam. "Let me know how you like it." She walked away.

As Sam peered down at his food, he heard Dean release a nearly orgasmic moan, looking up to see Dean's eyes practically rolled back into his head.

"Oh, my god. Best. Pie. Ever." His words were hardly distinguishable from his full mouth. "You can have your foo foo-soy-whatever."

While they ate, the discussed the case, though it really had nothing to do with finding out who or what was behind what had happened to them, they needed something to do in the meantime. If luck begot them, they would end up finding out information about it, anyway. A few times, whenever Sam would look up at Dean while they spoke, he could see their server in the background and occasionally eyeing Dean; once or twice, she noticed Sam's eyes on her, which received narrowed eyes at being caught, or, at least, he figured that was the reason.

He had only eaten half of his burger before being done, which was about the same time Dean was taking the last bite of his food. He wiped his mouth and tossed his napkin on the plate, leaning back in the seat.

"I think we should get one for the road."

"Oh, yeah. That's exactly what we need – you getting fat."

Dean grabbed the napkin he had put on his plate and threw it at Sam. It lightly hit him in the chest and fell onto his lap. "I can't get fat, Sammy. Have you ever seen a fat hunter? Don't answer that," he said quickly when Sam's looked changed; his younger brother immediately shut his mouth. Sam looked down and grabbed the napkin, putting it on his own plate, instead.

Not a moment later, their server came back up to the table.

"How was everything?" she asked, again focusing her attention on Dean.

"You were right," Dean replied, having her raise her eyebrows.

"Oh?"

"Best pie I've ever had. Well…second best." He gave her a smile, which was returned with a laugh.

"Guess I'll have to tell Rob to step it up a notch, huh?"

From his peripheral vision, Dean caught Sam rolling his eyes and adverting his gaze off to the side, staring at the menus tucked behind the condiments. Dean cleared his throat and released an awkward laugh. "Yeah…. So, if we can go ahead and get the check."

"Oh, don't worry about it, sweetie. It's already paid for." She waved her hand in front of her face.

Dean's eyebrows rose and he leaned back; Sam, too ended up looking up at the waitress, curiosity plaguing both of their faces. "From…?"

"Oh, the man at the bar," she said, seemingly awkward. She slipped Dean a coy smile. "Looks like you charm more than just girls. Be sure you come back and see me next time you're in town and I'll treat you to a slice, myself." She ended the statement with a wink and a light touch on Dean's arm before walking away from the table.

Dean shifted uncomfortably and leaned on the table with his elbows as he glanced around the diner, eyes just passing over the only man at the bar, with his back towards them, as he looked to Sam. "Yeah, 'cause that's not disturbing or creepy or anything. Of course…I do tend to have a certain charm with everyone, eh?"

He grinned when Sam tensed his mouth and glared at him.

"That's not funny," his voice serious with an undertone of a stifled laugh.

"Yeah…it was." He leaned to pull out his wallet and take out a five and a few ones. "Definitely worth making both of us feel awkward for a minute, because it is so much worse for you." He laughed and tossed the cash on the table, moving to stand up before Sam ended up throwing something at him.

Sam shifted his body to the side to follow after. "Dude…I'm going to kill you long before we get to Cowan if you keep that up." They began walking to the diner's main door.

"Sheesh, such a buzz-kill." They passed right by their waitress on their way out and, when she noticed them, Sam nodded to her and Dean raised his hand. "Thanks again. And I'll definitely be coming back to take you up that offer."

She smiled seductively. "It'll be open. Don't keep me waiting too long."

Dean nodded, a close-lipped smile attached to his face. "Wouldn't dream of it." He looked over his shoulder to Sam. "Well, come on, honey, let's get back on the road."

He hit Sam in the chest and quickly left the diner, leaving Sam to stand there awkwardly for a moment with a dumbfounded look on his face as he was left in the waitress's presence. He laughed nervously at the obvious look of confusion and anger on her face at, what she assumed to be being played, before coming out with, "Have a good one," and hastily following after his brother.

By the time he was out of the diner, Dean was already standing by the Impala, blatantly amused by his previous actions. "Let's saddle up and get the hell out of here!" he called as Sam walked over. He turned towards the car as Sam walked around it and grabbed the handle, stepping sideways as he opened the door. "Awe. Why the long face?" He laughed at Sam's aggravated look. He did not even respond, just got into the car and shut the door. Dean scoffed. "Such a drama queen," he muttered, opening the driver's side door and shutting it once he was in. He fixated himself in his seat, not yet starting the car, and, instead, looked at Sam. "Come on. Lighten up. No need to get your balls in a knot." He muttered the last part as he grabbed the keys and shoved them into the ignition, turning them and starting the car.

Sam clicked his seatbelt, the ends of his mouth curved downward into a frown. "Lighten up? Dude, like everything isn't awkward enough without your commentary."

Dean followed suit, and then leaned back in the seat, putting his foot on the brake as he shifted the car into reverse. "I'm just trying to make light of the situation. You were the one who said we couldn't ignore it, Sammy. Besides"—he turned the car to head out of the parking lot and back onto the road—"now that I'm actually aware of all this crap, I think your jealousy's kind of cute."

"Dean, shut up!"

Sam was gawking at him incredulously as Dean started laughing. He made a quick sideways glance to Sam, who was open-mouthed. "Damn. I didn't think you could turn that shade of red."

Sam brought up his hand to wipe his face, turning away from Dean to stare out of the window to the passing scenery. "You are such a dick. We are not gonna talk about this."

Dean shrugged his head off to the side. "Fine." He reached across Sam's lap to open the glove compartment, making quick glances from the road to the compartment's innards as he searched through the cassette tapes. Sam's brow furrowed as he watched him. Finally, he found the tape he was looking for and pulled back, ejected the one that was already inserted, tossed it back into the glove compartment, shut the door and injected the other one into the player. He pressed the forward button to shift through the five tracks and sat back in the driver's seat just as the introduction for Ohio Players' Love Rollercoaster started playing.

Sam choked on his breath and looked at Dean.

"Seriously?"

Dean faced him, head bobbing to each beat. As the lyrics started up, Dean started adlibbing. "I made Sammy…go red, see that? Made him jealous…with the wai-ai-tress."

Sam nodded his head, clearly annoyed. "You are so dead."

"You're lookin' so angry - thinks it makes me quiver," he kept going, further aggravating his brother. "Need to lighten up and get some humor." Sam reached down to shut it off, but Dean grabbed his hand to stop him, acting to become passionate with the song. "Don't be angry, 'cause you know that—"

"Seriously, knock it off!" As Dean kept going, they began fighting over the stereo, Dean continually knocking Sam's hands out of the way as they bickered like children, which lasted well into the next song as they headed toward Cowan, Tennessee.

-o-o-o-o-o-

"You really think that worked?" The waitress that had taken care of Sam and Dean looked to her co-worker, who was leaning on the counter behind the bar, watching the people in the diner. "I mean…what was the point of it at all? It seems pretty ridiculous."

They both turned to look at the man sitting at the bar; the same man that had paid for the boys' meal. He did not even glance at them, only continued to eat his meal. After a couple of bites, he wiped his mouth and grabbed the coffee mug next to him, taking a sip from it before setting it back down on the counter. He pushed his plate away.

"One step at a time." The woman frowned at the response. "It will be easier to get to Sam than Dean."

"I don't know. It seems like an awful lot of trouble to go about it this way," the boys' server commented, drawing her co-worker's attention, whereas the man did not even acknowledge her speaking. "And what if you're wrong and it doesn't work? Then the only thing you'll have accomplished is pissing them off further – I'd rather not antagonize them even more." When she did not get a response, her gaze lowered. "You know it's only a matter of time before they find out who you are, so why are you so cocky?"

He finally looked up at her, his eyes dark. "Out of all of us, you should be the last one to doubt me, Fleurety. After all, what would the Boss think if he found out you didn't trust his judgment?" She bit down on her jaw, but did not reply. "If you all could have gotten it done, he wouldn't have needed me, so quit bitching."

The other waitress rolled her eyes. "Would you all stop fighting all the goddamn time? Just bite the bullet and get it done - it's what we're told to do. And if you two want to piss the Boss off, be my guest. But don't take me down with you." The man shrugged and tore his gaze away from them as the other server scoffed and turned her attention to picking up items strewn about on the counter. "So, what do you think?" she asked as she turned back to face the man with the full head of gray hair, who had gone back to holding the coffee mug. She watched him take a sip from his coffee cup and set it back on the bar, staring at the liquid in the cup. "I'll be honest: I didn't expect the Winchesters to be so…clueless." She looked back at the door where they had left moments ago. "Hard to believe those are the hunters everyone's so worked up about. They act like children."

The other server was heard collecting plates before she passed by her carrying a plate full of food. "That's the understatement of the century. Still, though. It was pretty comical watching Sam Winchester squirm like a trapped roach. I wonder if he's aware he does that?"

"Doubt it. Well…thanks to Belial playing around, they're both probably more aware of everything. Upside: makes them easier to get to, because their guard's down. All that, if I may put it, sexual tension's going to get to them even worse, now." The other stuck her tongue out as she went to drop off food to one of the tables. The brown-haired woman turned her attention back to the man. "What's your plan, then, now, Barbas? Just watch them squirm for a bit?"

The man looked up at her, his eyes black as a sly grin found its way to his face. "Only for a little bit longer."

She raised her eyebrows, crossing her arms, a smug look on her face. "What are you planning in that head of yours?"

He grinned and leaned back on the stool, keeping his hands on the counter. He shrugged at the look she was giving him. "You always think I'm planning something, don't you?" He sighed and leaned forward on the counter again when her look went unfazed.

"Well, I'm still trying to figure you out. After all, you got that worthless prick Belial to do what you wanted, but what makes you so sure the Winchesters won't figure you out and come after you, next? Fleurety's right on this one: it seems a bit risky, if you ask me."

"That's why I didn't ask you." She frowned. "You have to understand, Satanachia, this plan's been in motion for a while. I'm making sure to cover my tracks. After all…they don't even know my name."

She let a sly smile come across her face, her eyes darkening as scenarios ran across her mind. "You're having fun with this, aren't you?" she asked, voice amused.

"Oh, I think this is going to be a lot more fun than anyone realizes." He picked up the fork from his plate, holding it up in front of him, studying it intently as he spoke. "And the best part about it is"—he suddenly threw it straight off to the side, embedding it into the woman's neck, who was sitting two seats down—"the show's just getting started."

~End~

So, who here wants a sequel? I set it up for either way, but let me say that this is the LAST chapter of Baited. So, to everyone who stuck around until the end, thank you so much! I wouldn't have kept going if it wasn't for you all! I was determined for this one not to be one of my "never-finished" projects!

You have no idea how grateful I am to all of you. Though, I must ask: does anyone get the reference of characters at the end? They're not that well known in the supernatural/demonic world, but they're very important beings.

Thanks again, everyone! Hope to have the honor of having you as readers again!