A/N: I riiiiiiiiiseeee from the DEAD! I am ... ZOMBIE-WRITER! And now, for your viewing pleasure, Zombie-Writer will grovel in apology for the wait on this fic! Please feel free to ignore that it's been... what? Like, three months? Three months since I've updated.
...Oh. Wow, that IS a long time. ((weak smile)) How's everyone doing?

Warning: Shonen-ai. And... um... "character death"? But really only when talking about how the ghosts got into the mansion in the first death, soo... I'm kinda hoping you all expected that, or something.
Oh, and Bakura is evil and naughty. Not that that's new or anything...

Review Answers! (Thank you so much! I can't tell you how helpful they were to me!):

Zolac no Miko: HI! ((squeals, glomps, and all around worships you)) Thank you SO much for the reviews. I was actually so overwhelmed by your incredible support and all that I couldn't help but send you an e-mail. Did you get it? ((desperately hopes so)) If not, please tell me and I'd love to send it again. Your humour, intelligence and general comments are getting me to thinking we've got a lot in common, as well! Thanks so much! (You know, I STILL can't get over the fact you did so many reviews. I am BOGGLED – happily so!)

Misoka: Would you believe you were the only one to give me a cool new pairing? Jou x Bakura! I would have never thought of that – thank you! And thank you also for waiting so long for an update. I hope you enjoy the story – and thank you very much for your compliments. They mean a lot to me!

Mists: Eeeeee! MISTS! ((tackle-glomps you)) I haven't talked to you in AGES – part of which is I know is my fault. Ah, well. At least we can talk now, right? Right? ((grins)) Glad to hear you've been busy... sleeping. ((giggles)) Are you well rested? ((hugs)) It's super to hear from you again!

YamiShadowCat22: Hi! Glad to hear you're liking the Haunted House concept. Sorry about the lack of updates. Thank you for the pairing suggestions (YxY, BxR, SxJ)! You know, I was thinking about that whole SxJ thing, and I realized I wanted Seto around too. ((grins ominously)) Let's see what we can't do about that... muahahaha. Thank you for your review!

Silvershadowfire: HI! ((major glompage)) You know, I haven't gotten around to it yet (for which I feel like crap), but you should know that I LOVED your "Burning Hearts" story. Loved it. Worshipped it. Attempted to imitate it through this story. Thanks ever so much for reviewing, and here's hoping your life is awesome. Seriously. (And btw, as for turning the tables on the "Bakura stalking Ryou" thing, I guess it's only fair to tell you a leeeetle spoiler: Bakura kinda gets attacked. ((thinks)) Kind of. In this upcoming chapter that I am having way too much fun on.) Thanks again!

Yami Silverdramon: Hey there! How's your semester going? ((pauses)) Is it my turn to e-mail you...? Ah, well. At any rate, thanks muchly for the reviews! As for the questions, let me answer them now, ok?
(Ch. 2) Crap. You know, I totally forgot to mention that both Yami and Bakura are solidified. Because of... magic. (or author's whim. Whichever.) Sorry!
(Ch. 3) As for Joey's dream, I took the fact that he was dreaming of Seto to be filled with lovely, lovely shonen-ai. I'm probably wrong, but all my classes on Freud are making me insist that there's some sort of repression going on about Joey's feelings towards Seto. As for the "Gratuitous Canadian Reference," that would be the mention of "West Edmonton Mall." ((shrugs)) Not a big deal, but I figured I'd throw some random mention of Canada into the story. Never mind.
(Ch. 4) ((grins)) You know, Bakura really is having way too much fun with this whole situation. And as for the spirits, I don't think I'll be doing 1st person pov for them, but you'll certainly discover what happened to them in the past. (And that was just a major spoiler. Whoopsie...)

Sorry about all this! Please enjoy...

Night of Souls
Chapter Four (...as foretold by Ancient Prophecy! Muahaahaa!)

"Gentlemen, I bid you good evening."

The disembodied voice spoke from the dark shadows ahead. Momentarily disoriented, the five boys peered into the dimly lit corridor, trying to find the distinguished speaker. Backlit by the fading sun that shimmered through the front windows, the hallway beyond seemed only to speak of a few disturbed dust particles, which drifted aimlessly in front of them.

"Hello?" Yuugi tried, cautiously moving closer to Yami. "Is someone there?"

"Indeed, sir. May I take your bags?" The butler shivered into existence next to Yuugi, who squeaked in surprise and latched on to Yami's arm. (1)

Yami glared at the man, affronted that his aibou had needed to seek his protection, and in no way flattered or pleased by the way Yuugi pressed so warmly against him, or the way Yuugi had cuddled instinctively into his side. Really. "Who are you?"

The formally dressed man bowed, his face carefully structured to exude haughty disinterest. "I, sir, am the officially appointed guide of this establishment. You may, if you wish, address me as Vimes. And, if sirs will permit me to take their bags, I may commence the tour."

The cultured voice washed over the boys' ears with the officiousness of a judge in the Supreme Court. Their eyes wide, the five wordlessly offered their small bags to the impeccable butler. Even Bakura had no comment – the man somehow reminded him of the dimly remembered village priest of Ra: a fatherly figure, but only to those who had gained his favour, while the rest had been excluded and dismissed sternly. Bakura resisted the urge to kneel.

Ryou cast a curious, sideways glance at Bakura, feeling their mental link vibrate oddly. He slid closer, trying not to nervously sweat too much at their still-joined hands. Ryou gave himself a mental slap. They were in the very lair of a bunch of crazed spirits. This was no time to be having sudden, random, odd, squirmy, mushy thoughts about Bakura. "Is something wrong?" he whispered.

Bakura shrugged a little before shooting him a foreboding glare.

Ryou sighed before muttering lowly, "Right, right. Don't disturb the spiritually-charged atmosphere. Sorry."

Vimes reappeared – when had he left- sans baggage. His arm, without appearing to move, gestured to the hallway that lay ahead of them. "If sirs will follow me?" he trailed off significantly.

Almost involuntarily, they divided themselves into their automatic groups. Yuugi and Yami joined hands and took the front position, while Joey hovered behind them. Bakura and Ryou brought up the rear, and Ryou tried not to shiver as they began their tour.

Unconsciously, Yami clutched his aibou's hand more tightly as they wandered down the hallway on the second floor. Around them, the dim lights burned steadily at regular intervals, providing the faint illumination by which the doors were visible. For some inexplicable reason, the doors had been constructed from a deep mahogany-coloured wood – maybe to match the dark brown hardwood floor? With each step, Yami's socks slipped over the surface gracefully, stirring up the still air and whispering promisingly. What, exactly, was being promised, Yami was not sure, and he clutched his copy of the Puzzle with his free hand.

Yuugi's soft voice filtered through the dimly golden air and rested gently in his ear. "Is this ok, Yami?"

Yami nodded abstractedly, his mind busy on other things. Vimes was still describing the mansion as he led the way, although his voice, too, seemed to be a distant drone. Yami absently memorized the layout as they passed through, promising himself that he'd review it later, but now…

Now, he was caught up in figuring this latest puzzle that his new life was throwing him. All around, all through, the house was a background humming sound. It alternated between soothing and jarring, but Yami couldn't figure out what exactly what it was. He concentrated on that feeling within him, trying to pinpoint the origin of the matter, but only got a confusing mix of emotions. There weren't any Millennium items nearby, though, disregarding the Puzzle and the Ring, so Yami knew it wasn't that. What else could it be?

Yami's eyes widened as he stumbled upon what should have been the obvious reason. Of course! It must be the staged "haunting" that his aibou had described to him during their journey. He cast a quick glance around at his companions. Other than Ryou, no-one seemed the slightest bit nervous. In fact, Yuugi, Joey, and Bakura seemed almost excited as they travelled through the mansion. Yami let out a soft sigh of relief. He had just been overreacting. Ruefully, he shook his head: This new life of his had been fraught with danger and high drama, to the point where he was apparently suspicious of even the most mundane, amusing activities.

To divert his residual unease, Yami focussed on Yuugi, who was raptly absorbing the guide's description of the rooms. The eyes truly were the windows to one's soul, Yami mused. Being a constant, personal witness to Yuugi's shining soul, Yami could see firsthand how that innocent perfection was reflected in those shining gems. His aibou's large eyes seemed to sparkle, even now, in the dim lighting around them. How could anyone be that pure? And yet, Yami knew – though he was loathe to admit it even in the silence of his mind - that Yuugi wasn't total perfection. His aibou did care too much, tried to take on too much on too many occasions, and many times he was too stubborn to let Yami cover for him. But despite (or maybe because?) of those minute faults, Yami's aibou was just that: his aibou. Yami felt his eyes narrow in a satisfaction that had nothing to do with this house. Yuugi was his, and only he would ever truly know the sheer ecstasy of sharing minds with the rare innocence that Yuugi embodied. Yami would do anything to keep that innocence sheltered, even if it meant giving himself over to the cruel machinations of someone like Pegasus. If – and the thought tore at him, day in and day out – if Yuugi fell in love with someone, then Yami would send them off with as best a well-wishing as he could manage. He would even resist the urge to send the offender into the Shadow Realm. Really, he would. Even seeing his precious light with another would not be so bad, as long as Yuugi would continue to look at Yami with trust and friendship in those gorgeous amethysts that shone at him everyday. Yami knew that Yuugi trusted him and he would do anything, anything at all, that his aibou wanted in his eternal, feeble payback.

"-mi? Yami? Yami? Yami, can you hear me?"

Yami snapped back into himself with a sudden lurch as those scintillating eyes swam into his view. Quickly, he took stock of his surroundings. Somehow, without his knowledge, he'd been guided into a plush leather chair that resided among other, equally expensive, pieces of furniture around a warmly burning fireplace. Ryou and Bakura were sitting on the black couch opposite him, Joey was to his right and leaning concernedly in his direction, and Yuugi had apparently opted for the footstool on his left. The butler stood in the centre, aloof as always, but Yami could hardly see him, because Yuugi was right in front of him, his face crinkled in worry. Yami bit his lip because Yuugi was right there, mere inches away! He tried to firmly squash any and all inappropriate thoughts that had everything to do with those tempting lips that were so very reachable. Somehow, he knew not how, he managed to dredge up a shaky smile of reassurance. "I am fine, Yuugi. My apologies for the interruption."

"Are you sure? Was the trip too hard on you? He hasn't been on a plane very often," Yuugi turned to explain to Vimes, before devoting the entirety of his attention back on Yami. "Do you want us to get you a glass of water? Or a pillow? Do you want me to rub your back?"

Yami smiled fondly. "I am fine, aibou. Please, relax."

Looking unconvinced, Yuugi sat back down. "Positive you're okay?"

Yami couldn't resist. He leaned over and gently ruffled Yuugi's untamed hair in a fond gesture. "I told you, I am fine."

"If you say so…" Yuugi let the matter drop, but made a point of placing a supportive hand on Yami's leg.

A fraction of a second passed before Joey addressed Vimes, "Sorry 'bout dat. You were sayin'?"

Vimes politely inclined his head, unruffled as ever. "Not at all, sir. But yes, continuing on with the history of this house, records seem to indicate that the first haunting began shortly after the deaths of the third set of inhabitants. At that time," here, Vimes' voice fell easily into the hypnotic cadence that only true story-tellers can achieve, "the owner of this place was a wealthy doctor. His best friend had a single daughter, who developed a dreadful illness during a harsh winter. Desperate for help, the friend wrote the doctor and pleaded that his daughter might live with him, so that the doctor could hopefully find a cure for the interminable sickness she had. The doctor immediately consented, and a few days later, she arrived on his doorstep.

"Sick though she was, she had dressed for the occasion and the doctor was instantly struck by her beauty. He immediately began work on her treatment, noting repeatedly in his journal that the taint of disease that lay upon her seemed only to accentuate her feminine grace.

"As time slowly passed, the doctor fell in love with the young lady, that she had only barely passed into the suitable marrying age. His desire to cure the lingering illness twisted into an obsession with the lady and the disease, until the good doctor convinced himself that her only cure lay in their marriage. He writes of his joy when she consented, then of his unbearable agony three weeks later."

Vimes paused for a moment before finishing the suspenseful tale. "She was in the attic, slumped in amongst the dolls. Though she was unmarked, there was no life within her. Of course, it could have just been the final stage of her disease taking its final, grim toll. However, her face was excessively painted – while it had merely been lightly covered before. What's more, her body, dressed that day in an elegant white satin robe, had been arranged into a stiff, doll-like position. The doctor stared first in shock, then in horror, as he realized how hard it was to tell which figures were fake and which one had been real…"

Vimes trailed off, watching as that unsettling news sank into the new visitors. In the brief, horrified pause that followed, he mentally assessed this latest group. They were all relatively youthful, and it had only been the sway of KaibaCorp's sponsorship that had permitted these five to visit this place.

The group itself was split into three fundamental partitions. The first set consisted of the darker twins. The shorter of the two, who obviously hadn't hit his growth spurt yet, looked to be the one who was going to enjoy his stay here the most. At the moment, his large eyes were filled with sympathetic tears for the girl long since dead. Still, despite the fact he obviously wore his heart on his sleeve, he obviously knew what he was in for. Earlier, during the tour, he had been fairly bouncing with excitement and his face had shone with an innocent joy. As Vimes watched discreetly, the boy in question reached out a hand that trembled only faintly, and clasped it tightly around his brother's. The taller one looked down in (what seemed to be) grateful surprise, and Vimes found himself being thankful for the shorter one's presence here. The taller brother, though confidant, seemed to have developed an almost wary attitude during the tour. Truth be told, Vimes had never seen a relationship quite like these two had. He could also not have told you if the handclasp offered by the shorter one was more for his own benefit, or for his brother's.

The second set, now… there was a completely different structure. Vimes could scarcely believe there were two pairs of near-identical twins in one group. These two were approximately the same height, but it was there that most of the similarities ended. One seemed a calm, gentle mouse when compared to the other – a vicious, bloodthirsty, scarred tomcat. Still, their extreme personalities balanced each other to go towards a better stability. It certainly seemed that the shyer brother needed the almost overbearing protection the other constantly delivered. Why, it was almost as if the timid one didn't want to be here all – and the fact that he was in attendance was not helping his nerves in the least. Earlier, when they had descended to the first floor, one of the stairs had creaked, and the younger boy had fearfully yelped, falling back into his brother's expectant arms.

The last boy, an easy-going blond, hadn't brought anyone with him. Alone, but not alone, he sat in the middle of the room. His expression was fierce and open, reflecting his inner confidence. The amazing thing about that, reflected Vimes, was that it wasn't an act. This teen honestly believed he could defeat ghosts – with his bare hands, apparently. Vimes resisted the urge to grin.

It was a very odd group indeed. Still, the dramatic pause had been just long enough to heighten the tension, so he began to recite the rest of the story.

"Soon after, the doctor realized he could not go on, and thus committed suicide in his room. It is said that the two ghosts of these unfortunate souls still haunt this place, mourning the loss of the other. Together, yet separated for an eternity, the ghosts roam this house in search of the one thing that will join them again." Wrapping his story to a close, Vimes gracefully gestured to the parlour, once more the efficient manservant. "And now, if sirs will follow me, you can complete the necessary paperwork and then settle in for your first night. That is, if sirs are tired?"

The blond, eyes sparkling, looked ready to vehemently refute the assumption, but a tiny yawn from Ryou stopped Joey through his opening indignation.

Vimes smiled – genteelly, of course. "Thank you, sirs. And now, we can complete the formalities. As was described on our website, I will then retire to my nearby abode. Though I will be a mere phone call away, the house will be effectively rented out to your group – and your group alone – for the entire weekend."

Bakura leered at Ryou's back, tightening his grip on the pale hand he still held. "Alone at last, then. Muahaha."

Yami turned, already following his aibou out the door. "What was that, thief?"

Bakura returned the challenging glare, too satisfied with the situation to pick a fight. "I said that the phone is a bat, Dead-King."

Yami blinked, then rolled his eyes and dismissed the matter as unimportant. Besides, his aibou was rounding the corner and might actually leave his sight! Yami hurried to catch up.

Forty-five minutes later, things had settled down. The young men had all been set up in their chosen bedrooms, while Vimes had retired to his home across the way. For the next three days, then, it was just the five of them.

On the second floor, with a window overlooking the centre courtyard, Joey took one last, long look at his bedroom. There was a bed in the South corner, a dresser in the West corner, and a boudoir on the East wall. Above it was a nearly full-sized mirror that glinted briefly in the full moonlight, drifting in through the window. Reassured by the knowledge that his friends were no more than a few steps away, Joey quickly changed into his nightwear (2) and checked under his bed for spooks. Then, fluffing his downy pillow, Joey hopped into bed for his first night in the haunted house.

Sighing happily, he snuggled further into the bed – surprisingly soft, for something so old. His eyes drifted sleepily around the room, calming down from the excitement of the day. And then, resolutely NOT thinking of Seto (the brown of the dresser was practically the same as his hair) or how that trenchcoat of his would look better off than on (Joey could almost see that coat in the billowy white curtains that dangled loosely by the window), Joey drifted off to sleep.

Two doors down, Bakura was grinning. Ryou bustled around, re-organizing their belongings and trying to ignore the manure-eating grin his dark side was sporting. In his experience, if you feigned ignorance, Bakura would go away. Sometimes. Well, maybe not. Ok, never. But it was certainly best to try and –

"Ryou, if you keep doing that, this room is going to be cleaner than Martha Stewart after her ginger-scented spa."

Ryou stopped and looked down. "Sorry."

There was no immediate answer, and so Ryou risked a hesitant glance upward. If anything, he noted with dismay, Bakura's smirk had gotten wider.

"Stupid hikari-mine, I think we should go to bed now. Sleep makes for excellent possession opportunities for weaklings like the Pharaoh's mini copy. Besides, I need to be well-rested if I'm going to see the mutilated spectres tomorrow!"

Ryou sighed. He seemed to have developed that as a nervous habit ever since the occupant of the Ring had started taking... an active interest in his life. "All right, Bakura." Wordlessly, he moved over to the large bed that dominated the room. Mr. Vimes had said this had been the master bedroom – there was even an ominous looking portrait that faced the bed on the opposite wall that had made him shiver. The portrait's eyes had seemed to pierce right through the canvas and through his soul.

"Would you like the bed tonight... again?" Reciting the phrase out of sheer habit, he prepared for a night of sleeping on the floor.

Bakura shimmered closer, sliding across the floor without seeming to actually move any limbs. Ryou stared in the suddenly transfixed mannerism of a mouse that had just run into a twenty-foot cobra. He gulped. "Ba-Bakura?"

"I was thinking, hikari-mine, that we could celebrate this vacation and ­both use the bed. Since it's so big and all. Yes, that's good... we'll sleep together tonight." He leered, for added effect.

Ryou's chocolate eyes suddenly decided for Yuugi-sized eye tryouts. "What?" he squeaked. The blush splashed across his cheeks like freshly spilt tomato juice.

But Bakura had already brushed against him and by him, stripping casually as he headed for the bed. "Are you coming, hikari-mine?" he asked in dangerously casual voice.

"Oh! Oh, yes. Um. Sorry." He quickly got ready for bed as well, steadfastedly staring at the wall. He turned when he was done and figured out how to approach the bed. Bakura was in a really good mood as of late, and the last thing Ryou wanted to do was to upset that. After all, a crazily joyous Bakura who made no sense was much better than a crazily manic-depressive-suicidal Bakura who made no sense.

"Hikari-mine..." Bakura muttered impatiently, his own narrowed eyes piercingly intimate. Ryou shrugged sheepishly in apology for the wait, before moving aside the covers to get into his own side of the bed.

He squeaked again in surprise at the sight, wringing an amused smirk from a lounging Bakura. "Oh, by the way, hikari-mine. I sleep naked." Another dangerous pause. "That doesn't bother you, does it?"

Actually, it did. A great, huge deal. He even remembered reading some psychological paper on how that ... did something to the brain, or something. But this was Bakura – a friendly Bakura, no less. And so Ryou squared his shoulders, offered a small, shy smile and said that it didn't.

A couple of mildly uncomfortable minutes later, Ryou began to finally calm down. Bakura, apparently, had the ability to fall asleep within seconds and was joyfully trying to snore the roof off. Ryou settled further into the soft bed. Sleeping with someone else wasn't really that bad. Really, the bed was quite large, and so there was lots of space. Besides, Bakura was right there, and his presence comforted Ryou. Bakura had promised to protect him, and the relative closeness of the slumbering spirit was pretty nice. In fact, he could feel his eyelids getting heavy at this moment.

A mumbled grunt and a sudden, heavy weight slammed into his chest. Warmth spontaneously appeared along his side. Relatively drowsy eyes shot open with a jerk, and a soft, panicked yelp escaped his throat. Without actually moving his body, Ryou slowly dragged his eyes downward. On top of the covers, a... pale arm was draped across his stomach, and further scrutiny revealed masses of moonlit white hair that spilled across two sets of shoulders. Ryou relaxed minutely in automatic recognition, before blinking in realization. It was Bakura. And Bakura... was apparently a snuggler.

And he slept naked. Oh, dear.

Ryou squirmed slightly, before resettling into a comfier position which involved turning slightly towards Bakura's warm chest. Lulled into security much faster with his yami by his side, Ryou fell asleep within minutes.

After Ryou's breathing deepened and slowed, Bakura peeked an eye open cautiously. Then, satisfied with how Phase Two was going (not to mention the warmth Ryou seemed to generate), he joined his lighter half in deep slumber.

Several minutes earlier and three doors away from Joey's room, a pair of renowned dueling teens stared at everything except the bed. The SINGLE bed. The large, single bed that seemed to occupy the entire room like the comforter-covered blob monster that Yami had heard so much about.

It was hard, admittedly. There was scant else to look at in the room. The mandatory closet, dressing table, the small mirror above it, and the sitting chair were scarcely worth mentioning, despite their obvious antiquity and subsequent worth. Yami was starting to see why the security deposit on the place had been so much. (He briefly considered breaking the chair and then casually asking Mokuba how much that had drained Seto's bank account. But that wouldn't be nice. And besides, Yuugi was watching.)

Yuugi cleared his throat. "So... Yami. I guess we should get ready for bed, then? Which side do you want?" He smiled sweetly.

Yami hesitated – He and Yuugi? In the bed? Together? Away from the authoritative presence of Jii-chan- before automatically resorting to his usual tactics. To cover his nervousness, he began making overly dramatic gestures. Dramatically, he pointed to the bed. "Yes!" he proclaimed. "Fate has decreed that this bed is to be our resting place tonight!" He spun, making sure his cape-jacket flared. Dramatically. And then he pointed skyward. "I shall now excuse myself to change into night time apparel!" He spun dramatically a couple more times and pointed to random things, just to make sure his aibou knew that Yami was afraid of nothing.

Wishing he could have his duel monsters emphatically destroying things to reinforce his point, Yami strutted – quickly – from the room.

With a stunned look on his face, Yuugi watched as Yami closed the door behind him... before bursting into muffled giggles.

His Yami was so funny! And sweet, too. Yuugi knew his Yami was still a little nervous about spending time in a haunted house. Admittedly, Yuugi was, too. And yet, despite Yami's own nervousness, he'd willingly launched into a routine that was sure to make Yuugi laugh and be reassured. After all, his Yami was here. Even if there were spirits, his Yami would be helping him – not to mention protecting him.

With a wistful smile, Yuugi quickly got ready for bed on his own. He'd opted for casual clothes for this trip, and he definitely approved of the choice. It took much less time to get out of jeans and a shirt into his star pyjamas, compared to the time it took him to get out of all those buckles and chains that he wore most of the time.

Shivering a little in the cool air of the bedroom, Yuugi quickly got into bed. Snuggling under the comforters, he eagerly waited for Yami to come back. It would take him a little more time, of course (Yami had once again opted for the bondage leather, chains, and buckles), but Yami would come back. He always did.

Yuugi sighed (could he actually see his breath? It was cold in here!) and then stared at the door in anticipation.

TBC
(1) I had fun with the butler. For those who are curious, he is based (albeit loosely – the actual Jeeves is way, way better) on Jeeves from the most illustrious P.G. Wodehouse's books. Any of you who are interested in humorous, light-hearted, vaguely romantic books about a sweet, ditzy bachelor constantly having to get rescued from random scrapes by his impeccable manservant, I highly recommend reading them!
As for the name (I told you, I had way too much fun w/ the butler), I named him after Samuel Vimes, who is from Terry Pratchett's Discworld series. sighs happily He is NOT a butler-type person in any sense of the word, but words cannot express how awesome Vimes is. It should be obvious, though, that he is cool enough for me to want to include a gratuitous mention in my inadequate story. I guess that says something on its own, ne? I'm just going to urge you to read the books. stares intently Read. Worship the Pratchett-ness.

(2) – It was, for the record, a ratty old white tank top and a pair of Spongebob Squarepants boxers. Yes. The friendly, neurotic sponge had spread everywhere.

A/N: Ok. I'm sorry. And yet, I had WAY too much fun with that last bit. If ever I have to watch boring old reruns of YGO that are worth only 30 seconds of viewing right at the end, I can always amuse myself with how overly dramatic Yami-cutie is.

Thank you again for everyone's patience and wonderfulness and all around superness. This chapter is so dedicated to you all!

As always: questions, comments, corrections, random queries, descriptions of your breakfast and issues that concern themselves with "What on EARTH are you talking about!" can be resolved and answered in a (vaguely) timely manner by doing a Review.

((waves)) Thank you!