A/N: Yay! More reviewers! Northernlight33, thanks again! You always review! YAY! Bladequeen2000, glad you like it, but I could have SWORN I turned the anonymous reviews on...blah...I think I fixed it. Sponge-fan, thanks! Hope ya like this next chapter!

Okay...now. This chapter is so wicked! I love it! Okay...here's where things step up and stuff. Only two more chapters and we'll be done! Okay...

BTW, I got the movie and I've watched it over and over and over! Yay! So...continuing with Dennis...

Part Siete

The old crab was right. It wasn't his scene. Everything about the place screamed "baby."

The first thing he saw when he stepped inside was a giant dancing peanut. He smacked his forehead. Why, oh why…

Off to the side, a waiter stood in the entrance to a backroom, checking his watch. Dennis marched over.

"If you're looking for the party, it's behind the stage." The waiter motioned behind him at an ice cream splattered counter. "Then it'll be ten thousand bowels of Triple Gooberberry Sunrise unleashed…I hate this job…"

"Good man," Dennis nodded, patting the waiter's shoulder. He looked up. Sure enough, there was a rustling behind the curtain. Suddenly, the two victims burst out and broke into song.

This was it, he thought, pulling his gun out of his belt. It's all over. He stared down the sight at the sponge. His hand tightened on the trigger.

Suddenly, someone else appeared on the stage. He glanced over.

"Mindy!" he gasped incredulously. His hand moved, the trigger sprung. A blast ricocheted through the room. The dancing peanut fell. Everything was silent.

FLASHback

He waited until most of the cars had gone and dusk was approaching. With luck, everyone had forgotten him by now.

He slipped easily inside. The house was painfully empty. He just needed a clue, something the police would have missed.

He opened the door to her room and stood there, breathing in the lonely scent for a long time. Don't cry. Now is not the time. You have a mission.

He poked around in the bleary half-light, opening drawers, shifting through her piles of books. Then he found what he was looking for, tucked in her address book. Chad's cell phone number.

This was his score. He would settle it.

There was no time to lose. He hurried to the attic. Pushed to the back was Dad's trunk. He unclasped the lid, waving away the clouds of dust. He set his jaw. The reality of what he was about to do hit him full force. Then he thought of Mother's cold, unmoving body…the tears started rolling. Someone would pay…

He took the knives out one by one and attached them to his belt, his jacket pocket, and into his backpack. The one at the bottom of the trunk was the one Dennis had gotten for his fourth birthday, from his father…he looped it to a chain and tied it on his neck.

He put on his jacket and a clean pair of boots and headed out the door.

There was a pay phone outside the police station. He stepped inside, out of the rain, and peered at the numbers in Mother's scrawl. He inserted a quarter and dialed carefully. He waited. It rang three times. At last he heard Chad's voice.

"Hello?"

He hung up. Now…he would have to avoid Officer Nancy at all costs. He walked up the steps to the station and stepped inside. No one was there except Fred, at the desk. He pulled a hat low over his eyes.

"Excuse me," he said, trying to make his voice sound like Mark's. He'd never thought he'd be imitating Mark's squeaky voice, but it made him sound more like a teenager.

"Yes, son?" Fred asked, putting down the Bikini Times.

"I…lost my cell phone. I'm afraid someone is using it. Could you run a check of the number and see where the last call came from?"

Fred looked at him blankly.

"O-okay…um, well. Give me the number and I'll see if we can…erm…get the records, okay?"

Dennis read the number off the slip of paper, trying to make it look like he knew it from memory.

"The phone company would only help if it was a police emergency," said Fred, grinning. "Let me handles this." He picked up the phone and dialed a hotline…

"This is Deputy Fred of the Bikini Bottom Police Department…no, I do not want a new plan for my minutes!"

Dennis bit his lip. This whole idea was stupid.

"Look, I need records for a cell phone…yes, it's an emergency! Homicide investigation…"

Dennis gulped. Ironic how lies could be so real.

"…okay…yeah, I have a pen…Um-hmm…okay…great, thanks! Your welcome. Yes, we'll credit you. Okay? Okay, bye." Fred put down the phone and looked at Dennis.

"The last call on your phone came from a hotel in Tank Top, Fiesta Inn…I guess it is stolen. Do you want I should call over there?"

"Oh, no-no. I-um…that's my dad. He was there on a business trip. He-uh…must have grabbed mine by mistake. Thanks for your help, though." He turned to go. Just as he put his hand on the door handle, O'Malley stepped in through the opposite door. He turned, pulling his hat farther on his head, cleared the door, and broke into a run.

He slowed as he approached Main Street. No one was chasing him. This time no one could no where he was going. Not even best friends.

He headed into the subway station and found the route for Tank Top. For now, he was content to think of only the lights passing overhead in the tunnel, and not of anything else, past or future. At last, the train screeched to a halt, and he disembarked in Tank Top.

Finding the hotel occurred with astounding ease. He hailed a taxi and asked for Fiesta Inn. What are you doing alone, driver asked. I'm meeting Dad here. I just came from Bikini Bottom. Couldn't leave until after my soccer game. I'm going on a trip with Dad. He was here earlier today, since it's mainly a business trip. He knew he shouldn't be adding so many details. The driver might remember him for it, or Dennis might not remember all the story. But even if the driver recollected, what was suspicious about a boy meeting his father? It was partly true. He was meeting his almost-evil-stepfather.

The ride ended all too quickly, like everything else around here. He stepped out, paying the driver, nearly forgetting his backpack in the car. Now was not the time for carelessness. Now was the time for great deliberation.

He stepped inside the revolving doors and into a well-lit lobby. He took a deep breath and approached the boy at the desk.

"Excuse me. I'm looking for my father. He checked in earlier. I'm meeting him here." He kept his sentences short, brief.

"What is your father's name?" the boy asked in a monotone.

"Chad…Foster, I think…"

The boy looked at him curiously.

"I mean-I know. Chad Foster. That's his name. I know because…I'm his son." He mustered a fake grin and mentally kicked himself.

"Oh yes, Mr. Foster checked in this morning."

"Can you tell me which room?"

"Oh, no no no. It's against hotel policy. I can have him come down here and we can settle everything out." Before Dennis could protest, the boy was calling up to Chad's room. In moments, his whole plan seemed to fall away. Not here. Witnesses. He gulped. Stupid. The whole thing was stupid.

The elevator dinged. Out stepped Chad, with shorter hair and green contacts. Dennis regarded him coldly. Chad didn't notice him at first. The boy spoke, "Mr. Foster, this boy rang for you."

Chad turned and looked down at him. There was no recognition on his face.

"Dad," Dennis said coolly. Chad studied his face, then realization took hold. His eyes grew wide and he looked around the lobby. Dennis was sure they saw the same thing. Witnesses.

"Son," Chad said, just as icily. "Why don't—we go outside and chat?"

Chad pushed him through the revolving doors. Dennis put his hand on a knife in his belt. He would be ready. Chad led him around the block, turning in a remote alley, where he pushed him off and further in the passage, which led to a dead-end. Chad blocked the way. He was trapped.

"So…Dennis, is it?" Chad asked, grinning smugly. "What brings you so far from home?"

Dennis took a shaky breath. "Mother is dead," he said through gritted teeth.

"Tina!" Chad cried, putting his hand to his face in feigned shock. "Oh, dear, and she was such a good woman!"

"Chad…" Dennis tightened his grip on the knife. "I know you did it. You made her give you the combination…"

"Dennis, Dennis, Dennis…I did nothing of the sort. She was my fiancée after all. Why shouldn't she offer me all her private records?"

"So you did do it," Dennis hissed. "You robbed her bare and left her to die!"

"I never left her to die, Dennis. I left her to be poor. You, on the other hand…I don't recall you being there when she needed you the most."

"Nor do I recall you being ever so desperate for money you'd play a single mother to marry you just so you could have a little extra cash!"

"Oh, but I was desperate. And your mother was desperate, too. She was near to the point of a breakdown anyway. She needed someone to take care of her, like your father never could."

"My father was a great man and don't you forget it!"

"Then why did he leave you? Is your karma rolled so everyone will abandon you? Your dad, your mother, me, your little friends at the mall?"

"My friends never abandoned me. What puzzles me is why Mother would have fallen for you, you monster!"

"Monster is a harsh word. And besides, she knew her job and night school still wouldn't raise much money. She had her saving in that vault, and her bank account, all going toward your college education. I told her I was a stockbroker. 'Let me invest it so it can multiply.' What a sucker! She gave me everything on her own.

"And now, Dennis, we must cut this chat short." Chad reached down. No more time. Dennis lunged at him with the knife, swiping him on the shoulder, knocking the gun out of his hand. Chad gaped, then grabbed the knife from Dennis. Dennis reached down for another, but Chad leaped toward him. Dennis jumped back. There was pain in his right cheek, and when he touched it, his hand came back red. He stabbed at Chad, who dodged easily. He fought bitterly, twisting and turning, trying to get a stab at him, but Chad defended well.

Suddenly Dennis was pinned to the ground. Chad twisted the knife out of his grasp. He held one over his head. Dennis looked around. The gun. Chad's gun. It was still lying there. If only he could reach it…

The tip of one finger touched it. Chad raised the knife higher. Dennis strained harder. He got his thumb and forefinger around the handle. He pulled it closer, closer, grabbed the trigger. Then in one move he swung it to Chad's head and pulled.