But nothing happened.

Snitch's eyes flew open. No, he thought, I loaded it. I should be dead.

His breathing heavy and quick, he checked the gun. Nothing.

But... I loaded it.

He sat up and saw movement; something had rolled off his pillow. Moving slowly, he reached to pick it up.

A bullet.

"Oh, shit." His voice cracked, and he wiped tears and snot from his face. "Oh shit. Oh shit!" A scream flew past his lips, filled with frustration and mucus. "Stop doing this to me! I'm done You bitch I'm done so leave me the fuck alone!"

His face fell onto Skittery's chest, and the chill of skin made him scream again. There was nothing else. Skittery was dead. Why shouldn't he be dead too?

He violently threw the gun, and when it left a black dent on the closet door, he started to cry.

"No no no!" He whispered to himself. "No! It's no fair!" His hand clung to Skittery's, and when he stood up and left the bedroom, he dragged the body along behind him.

"C'mon," he told it, struggling to keep his grip. "C'mon, we gotta get to the kitchen."

After a little more fighting, Snitch got tired and simply picked the body up and sprawled it over his shoulders, much like he'd done upon their arrival at this abysmally nostalgic place. He carried Skittery downstairs, wanting the skin over his bare back to be warm, praying to be allowed to die this time. He pulled out a chair in the kitchen and propped Skittery up in it. Then, he went to one of the drawers and grabbed a steak knife.

Sitting across from Skittery's slumped figure, Snitch grinned. "This'll work, Izzy, baby. I know it'll work. It can't fail. The gun was a fluke, but I won't lose this time."

He slid the blade down his forearm.

Nothing happened.

Whimpering softly, he tried to other arm. Nothing but the cold press of metal against his skin.

He stared blankly at the knife. "Must... must be dull," he said softly, glancing at Skittery. A shaky smile appeared on his face. "But that's okay. I can still use it. Even a dull knife will work."

Without even a thought, he turned the blade around and jammed it into his chest.

Or rather, towards it.

The knife snapped when it hit his skin, leaving no mark, but instead clattering against the floor, as if Snitch were a marble statue instead of a normal human boy.

He stared at the broken knife in his hand, and a sob choked through his throat.

"Fuck," he whispered. "Fuck!"

He stood up and went to the foyer, where a black phone sat dusty in its cradle. Snitch fell on his knees beside it and groped for the phone. There was a short hesitation before he dialed the number, wincing at every beep.

Becky Riccio sat in front of the TV, watching cartoons with mirth. She'd enjoyed the past three months with their lack of her annoying big brother. No one to fight over the remote with. No one to argue about boys with. No on to hog the bathroom before school.

But she missed him too. She loved her big brother, like all little sisters do, on some level or another.

The phone rang behind her, and she glanced at it.

"Becky, can you get that?" Her mother called from upstairs. "I'm busy."

"Sure thing, Mom," Becky answered, crawling to the table and picking up the phone. "Hello?"

Heavy, choked breathing was the response. She frowned. "Hello? Who is this?"

"...Mommy?"

Becky gasped and almost dropped the phone. So much hurt in that voice, so many tears... like a dying child.

"Mommy, it's Danny," The voice continued. "I'm at Uncle Paul's summer place. I've been here for over a month. That church retreat, Mommy? It wasn't really a church retreat. I killed seven people with a bomb. I fell in love with a boy and I made love with him 'cause God told me to, and then he died, and you know what Mommy you know what I hate you I hate you because without you I wouldn't be here and I wouldn't be hurting and maybe Izzy would still be alive without me without you! So I hate you Mommy, but I need you, 'cause there's no one else to help me now. Please help me Mommy. For God's sake help me!"

Becky was frozen with horror. The voice on the line continued to ramble, and she recognized it as her brother's, but oh gosh, what was wrong with him? Why did his voice swell and fall like that, sometimes violently angry and others pitifully sad?

"I just wanna die. I just wanna die. I wish I'd never been born. I wish you'd never met Daddy and that you'd never let him fuck you upside down and inside out, that I'd never been forn. You cunt, you slut, why didn't you get a fucking abortion? Why didn't you join a convent? Why did you let me come to this Earth just to suffer and not die?"

Then he returned to chanting about death and how much he desired it. Becky whimpered softly, helplessly, frightened. "... Danny?"

Sharp silence. "Yes, Mommy?"

'This is Becky. Not Mom."

"Becky?" He sounded so small and confused. "Becky? Where's Mommy? Where's Mommy? Where's my mommy, you bitch?"

Unable to help herself, Becky burst into tears. "She's upstairs Danny, she's busy, and oh gosh what's wrong with you? Why are you talking like this, Danny?"

"Get my mother!"

"Danny, what's wrong?"

"You wanna know what's wrong? You wanna know? I'm naked, kneeling in the floor of a house I shouldn't be in. My ass hurts 'cause I got laid last night only to wake up in the arms of a dead man, and I wanted to spend forever with that man, but I can't die, God won't let me fucking die, so I'm stuck here, and I don't know what to do except call my bitchslut mother for help and my kid sister picks up the phone and doesn't fucking tell me where my mother is!"

Becky continued to sob into the phone as her mother, Hannah, glided down the stairs, eyes wide.

"Becky, darling!" She cooed. "What's wrong? Who's on the phone?"

"It's Danny, Mom," Becky whined. "It's Danny. He's saying things I don't understand. He's scaring me, Mom!"

Hannah grabbed the phone. "Danny, stop scaring-" She cut herself off and listened for a moment. Her face paled suddenly. "Oh God," she muttered. "Oh dear Lord what happened to my son?" And Becky could hear him screaming on the phone:

"I just want to die! That's all I want! To die! Why can't I die, Mommy, why won't She just let me die?"

Hannah sat in the waiting room four hours later, her face white and tearstained. No one knew what had happened to Danny, just that when the ambulance arrived he had been unconscious on the foyer tile, probably exhausted himself from screaming so much; that there was a gun in the upstairs bedroom, which smelled stale, liked a sickroom; that there had been a dead boy in the kitchen with the pieces of a broken knife at his feet.

Danny had woken up for a few moments on the ride to the hospital, and had started to mewl and moan, asking them to kill him, because maybe, just maybe, he had to be killed by someone else.

"Suicide's a sin, you know, and I'm an angel, I can't sin," he'd said, his voice tiny. Then, sleep covered him again.

Hannah sighed. The doctor was looking over him now, trying to get him off the subject of suicide to find out what had happened. Becky was at the snack machines, buying a makeshift dinner. So Hannah was alone.

Except for the man across the room.

He sat quietly in his seat, his hair falling over his face into dark green eyes which watched Hannah intently.

"Is it bad?" He asked finally.

She looked at him. "Pardon?"

"Are you okay, miss? Is it bad?"

Hannah hesitated. "... I... I don't know. My son... my son told me several months ago he was going on a church retreat. He called this afternoon from my brother's summer house, going on about death and how much he hated his life and hated me for giving it to him." She shuddered involuntarily. "They found another boy at Paul's. That one was dead. The current hypothesis is that the boy and my Danny were lovers. That boy died of unknown causes. And Danny loved him enough to go insane." She raised a hand to her face. "I kept hoping his whole gay thing was just a phase. Now, I don't care. I just hope he's all right." A broken sob, and tears flooded over her fingers. "I just want Danny to be okay!"

The man moved to sit beside her, and offered a packet of tissues, which she took without thought.

"What's your name, miss?" He asked quietly.

"Hannah Toney." She sniffled, wiping her eyes.

The man smiled, and she noted how young he looked. "I'm Thomas Brade. I'm also sorry about your son... Danny? He has my prayers."

"Thank you." Hannah sighed again. "So. Enough about me. What are you in for?"

Thomas bit his lip. "Well... I guess since you shared your story... mine's a little different though. My wife, Jessie? She was a prostitute when she was younger. My little brother, Chris, got her pregnant and ditched her. Her parents kicked her out. She really had no choice but to sell herself. It was all she knew how to do."

"Oh, how terrible," Hannah breathed.

"Yeah. Even more terrible is her son, whose name I forget, ran away when he was ten. She hasn't seen him since."

"Well, I pray for him. But that doesn't explain why you're here."

"Not too long after her boy ran off, she caught the HIV virus from a client. She got kicked out of the brother and ended up coming to my parents' house for help; her own refused to see her. We met, fell in love, got married, and I take her up here every once in a while for the doctors to check on her virus."

"Horrible. I pray for her too."

"Thank you, Miss Toney."

"Please." She smiled. "Call me Hannah."

A haggard-looking doctor with white hair came into the room, making a beeline for Hannah. "Miss Toney, we have some news."

"What? Is Danny going to be all right?"

"We hope so," the doctor answered. "It seems this may just be shock, and he'll come out of it in a while. He has displayed violent tendencies, though, so we want to keep him here until he does come out of it."

"Fine," Hannah replied. "Whatever works best for Danny."

"Also... we now something about the other boy, too..."

Hannah bit her lip. "Yes?"

"Apparently, he and your son were lovers, like we theorized. Danny has expressed that much. And he calls the other 'Izzy' or 'Isaac' and we're-"

"That's it!" Thomas interrupted suddenly.

The doctor and Hannah turned to look at him.

"Sorry," he blushed. "But... but that's my wife's son's name. Isaac."

Hannah raised her eyebrows and shivered.

"That's an interesting coincidence," the doctor muttered. "But not entirely important. Anyway, we have the other boy's name and relation to Danny. We're unable to find much else, but we do know for certain that Danny had nothing to do with Isaac's death; Isaac appears to have simply suffered a heart failure. It happens, unfortunately." The doctor paused. "But... Danny does seem to be under the impression he killed someone. Several people, in fact." Another pause made Hannah frown.

"You think he's serious?"

"Well, there was an explosion at an abandoned warehouse about six weeks ago, and seven bodies were found among the wreckage. Teen boys, all of them. It looked very suspicious." The doctor swallowed loudly. "And... and Danny claims to have killed seven people."

"With a bomb?"

The doctor flipped through his notes. "I quote: 'There were flames and fire and heat and Izzy and me watched from the overlook and I held him and I wanted to make love to him, but the devil screwed us over again and Izzy and I didn't make love again for six weeks, last night actually.'" The doctor sighed and looked at Hannah. "There is an overlook by the warehouse. Six weeks, Miss Toney? It seems likely-"

"No." Hannah said firmly. "Unless anyone else wants to try and prove this in court, no. I refuse to believe it. My son only wants to kill himself." She bit her lip to keep the tears away as she said it. So cynical! Thomas put a hand on her shoulder.

Suddenly, there was a cry and a clatter from down the hall. The three adults went to look, and saw a blonde nurse running from a room where Danny's voice screamed at her, "Tatum, you cooze, his name was Isaac Allen Tatum and his mother was a whore and I loved him anyway and that's absolutely none of your bullshit!"

Thomas's hand flew to his mouth, and Hannah glanced at him. "Thomas?" She said, surprised at his white face.

"Um... excuse me, Hannah." He turned and ran in the opposite direction, looking very frightened.

Hannah stared after him for a moment, then sighed and followed the doctor into the room, where other nurses, males, were trying to sedate Danny. Danny, his face flushed and his eyes turbulent, was keeping them at bay with a stolen needle. "Don't touch me!" He screamed at them. "Don't put me back in the dark unless you're gonna let me stay there forever! Don't-" His voice cracked and silenced as one of the nurses managed to grab his arm and empty the sedative into a vein. Danny slumped and fell to the floor, his eyes half-open. Hannah uttered a little cry of fright and felt the tears threaten again as the nurses carried Danny limply to his bed.

"Hannah?"

She turned and there was Thomas with a frail, frightened woman who could only be his wife. "What is it?"

"I... that name. He said the other boy's name was Isaac Allen Tatum."

"I think that was the name, yes. Why?"

The tiny woman spoke now, in a quiet, broken voice, like a shattered lamp. "That... that was my son's name."

"I know, Thomas told me-"

"No," She said, firmer this time. "My maiden name is Tatum. I gave Isaac my name since his father wanted nothing to do with him."

Hannah could only stare.

The nurses, who seemed ready to start interrogating him again, sat Danny upright, groggy and tired, in his bed. His gaze fell onto his mother, and he gave her a shy smile so reminiscent of the Danny from before that Hannah had to turn away to keep from crying again. The tiny woman, Isaac's mother, Jessie, glanced at Thomas, then peeked in at Danny, her angled face curious to see the boy that had loved her son.

Danny saw her. And in her, he saw Isaac.

Suddenly, Danny wasn't so groggy anymore.

He screamed, headsplitting and glassbreaking. Becky Riccio, walking down the opposite hallway with a bag of Doritos in one hand and a can of Barq's in the other, heard him and came running. She arrived in time to see the nurses give her brother another shot. That was enough shit to knock Danny unconscious, so when her brother's head lolled backwards, Becky had a mild sense of premonition, and she stepped backwards away from it.

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Brade," Hannah breathed, unaware of the blood dripping from her nose. "Oh, I'm so sorry."

Jessie was quiet for a moment.

"It's okay," she whispered, watching Danny's pliant body slump on the bed, saliva leaking from the corner of his mouth. "I... should be the sorry one."

The doctor stared at her cautiously. "Why?"

She gave a choking sigh. "For raising Isaac the way I did. For letting him run away. For letting him affect your son like this." Jessie turned and looked steadily at Hannah, who's breath came in short gasps. "I'm sorry, Miss Toney.'

Hannah stared back for a pregnant moment, then collapsed to her knees, howling, letting her tears run free.

Danny sat sullen and silent when Becky wandered into his room, sipping soda through a straw. It was dark, and Danny's unfortunate roommate was already asleep, so she whispered: "Danny? It's Becky. You awake?"

He shifted slightly, then raised his head. His eyes were hard, and Becky almost cowered from their gaze.

"Hey," he grunted emotionlessly. "What you want?"

"To visit." Becky's voice was shaking as much as her fingers as she approached his bedside. "See how you're doing."

"My head hurts." He shut his eyes and let his head roll back. "And my throat is raw."

"Probably from screaming." She grinned hopefully. His eyes moved to her, and the grin fell. "I'm sorry," she squeaked. "Don't start yelling again, Danny. Please?"

"I won't. It's only worth it if the doctors are here."

"Okay." She watched him for a minute. "Danny, are you gonna be all right?"

He exhaled heavily, and the sound rang like an echo. "I don't want to be all right."

"Why?"

"I don't want to be alone."

"You're not alone.

"Isaac isn't here. I'm alone."

"But I'm here."

"You're not Isaac."

She frowned and leaned over his bed. "Why did he mean so much to you? Why do you want to die for him?"

Danny sat up again and looked her in the eye. "What was so special about Izzy? I don't now. Something about his eyes. His mouth. His hair. He was dark and pleasant. He was abused and committed. I was lucky enough to love him before I lusted for him." He paused. "You now what lust is?" She shook her head. "Lust is want. Desire. Sexual. Most people experience lust before love. Just about everyone, actually. Some only experience lust. But me and Izzy fell in love first time we saw each other, and there was no lust involved. Just... sweet surprise. He had sad eyes, an open mouth and his hair stuck up every which way, and I loved him. God led us to each other and now She won't let me die to be with him and I don't know why She won't." His head fell back against the pillow, and Becky saw tears glistening on his face, like melted starlight. His pain was so genuine, Becky felt a piece of it stab into her chest, and a sob threatened to fly out of her throat.

But she held it back.

"Danny, I'm sorry," she whispered, barely loud enough to hear herself. "Isaac sounds great."

Her hand, small and delicate, white like Chinese porcelain, fell over Danny's. His skin was clammy, a yellower white than her own, and it disgusted her, but her touch remained. She could think of no better way to express her feelings for her brother.

After a moment, Danny's hand clenched over her fingers. A sob broke through her, and she used her free hand to wipe her face. When she looked back, her brother was sitting up, watching her curiously.

"Danny, I just want you to be happy," her voice shuddered. "I don't want you to die, but if that's what would make you happy, that's okay."

Danny held his arms out to her. She paused, then climbed into the bed and allowed herself to be held in her brother's embrace, feeling his forced strength and fading warmth, and she erupted into tears again, knowing that, given the first chance, he would die without second thought.

"It's okay, Becky," he answered, rubbing her hair. "You'll be okay. I promise you will. I promise."

She left after she finished crying, and Danny was left alone in the dark. The sound of water running in the pipes, the beep of EKG machines and the clatter of metal instruments floated around him; the hospital choir giving a show. He sighed and put his hands over his face. He'd never felt like this before, like he had been hollowed out like a pumpkin, had everything wrenched from inside his body then replaced with a dull, lingering pain that sat heavily in every vein and made him want to just lie in his bed until he faded away.

But his heart continued to beat, no matter how much he told it to stop.

Then, he felt a strong hand in his hair, and he sat up straight, twisting to see.

All breath escaaped him; his next inhale squealed like a rusty brake. "Oh God," he said. "Oh God. Isaac."

Isaac, still skinny and dark-haired, but wingless and smiling, bent to kiss his forehead. "Hi Danny. How're you?"

"Oh God, Izzy, Izzy, are you alive? What happened, Izzy?"

He sat on Danny's bedside, and touched his face almost shyly. "No. I'm dead. For sure."

Danny's face fell. "But... why are you here? Why can I see you? Feel you?"

"You're close, baby." Isaac kissed his hand. "Right on the edge of the cliff. But you're not done yet. Not quite."

"Izzy, I'm going crazy. I can't last much longer. You... your mother was here. She looks so much like you. It hurts."

Isaac hesitated. "My mom? You saw her?" Danny nodded. "Is she okay?"

"Yeah. I think she's married now. There was a guy with her, anyway."

Isaac smiled. "Good. I'm glad. But Danny, you don't have to worry about losing your mind. I'll be here."

"Why can't I die, Iz?" Danny leaned forward, resting his head on Isaac's chest. "Why won't She let me die?"

Isaac held him lightly. "Your sister needs to be influenced. She loves you, and she needs to witness your death. That's all that's left. So it'll be soon."

"But... why does Becky need to see me die?"

Isaac helped Danny sit up and looked in his eyes. "Her future is bright, Danny. Because of you, because of how she feels for you and how you feel for me, she'll resort to pen and paper. Prose. Poetry. She'll release her feelings in a whirlwind of words, and in her words, the world will find comfort." Isaac smiled and kissed Danny's temple. "They'll find love in her work. Not romance-novel love, between a horny man and a well-endowed woman, but real love, the kind that's so sweet it hurts and things don't always turn out perfect, but in the end, they're together anyway. You've already explained this to her. Every story of hers will be dedicated to you and me. But only if you die will she need to find solace in writing."

Danny smiled slightly. "My Becky."

"Yeah." Isaac grinned. "She'll be famous."

"Izzy?"

"Yes?"

"I want to sleep. Will you stay?"

Danny lay back against the bed. Isaac slipped off useless shoes and curled up next to him, an invisible teddy bear.

"I'll be here 'till the end, Danny," he said, Danny holding onto him like a lifesaver. "Not much longer. Just remember: We'll be together for real in a little while. Not much longer at all."

Becky stepped silently into Danny's room the next morning, a vase of flowers in her hand. She set them up on Danny's bedside table and jumped when he said, "They're pretty, Becky. Thanks."

A blush colored her face. "No problem, Danny."

"Feeling better?"

"A little." She bit her lip. "How're you?"

"Pretty damn fine." He sighed heavily and she smiled.

"Are you gonna stay now? Are you gonna live?"

"No." His frankness bit into her heart. "I won't be around much longer."

"Is that why you're fine?" She accused. "Because you're going to die?"

"Yeah." He smiled at her. "That, and I know my death will result in something better." He sat up and tapped her nose. "For you."

She stared up at him. "What?"

"Can't say." He lay down again, looking relaxed and happy. "Now, where's Mom?"

"In the waiting room, talking to the doctor." She took Danny's hand. "Danny, don't die."

"Becky, I have to." Around his neck, strong arms linked, and a voice whispered silently into his ear, "You have to."

Becky didn't notice. "Danny, why?"

"I already told you why." His eyes shut, and he leaned back. A pair of soft, thin lips rolled over his own, unseen by all but Danny.

The EKG machine attached to Danny's arm started to slow. Becky glanced at it helplessly, then back at her brother. "Danny, no! Stop it!"

Danny's breathing evened out, then started to fail. "Don't cry, Becky," he coughed as she started to weep. "This is to better humanity."

She put her head on his bed and sobbed anyway, entirely unaware of the messy-haired boy draped atop her brother's body, trailing kisses down his neck.

"Danny, don't, please Danny, for me!" Becky cried over the ever-slower EKG machine. "Please Danny!"

"This is for you." His fingers clenched, and she didn't see the pale hand within them. "I'm sorry for every argument and mean word. I love you, Becky. That's why I gotta go."

"Danny, stop!" She lifted her head and in that instant before the machine's steady beeps fell into a dull fatal drone, she saw him, Isaac, kissing her brother's mouth and drawing his soul upwards, trailing long fingers over translucent skin.

"We'll be together forever," Isaac whispered to Danny, and this time, Becky heard. "We'll sleep among the stars, play in the wind, make love in the ocean."

"I'm yours and you're mine," Danny whispered back, his solid body motionless, but his soul smiling, shining, warm in the other's embrace. "For eternity."

And then they were gone. Becky found herself alone in the hospital room, the buzzing EKG machine unheard in her ears as she stared at Danny's empty body. She stared in disbelief for several moments before putting her head down on the bed again and resuming her cry.

When Hannah and the doctor came into the room, followed by Isaac's mother, they stood in stunned silence at the sight. The doctor was dumbfounded; Danny had been fine the previous night, but now he lay pale and still. Jessie's hand was over her mouth; she didn't know what to think about Danny's passing, just that he was so young, too young, like her Izzy. Hannah was simply in shock that her first-born child was no longer breathing.

Becky lifted her head and they all three gasped when they saw the smile on her tear-stained face.

"... Becky?" Hannah questioned, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Be happy for him, Mama," Becky sniffled, smiling. "They're together. We'll see them in the stars, the wind, the ocean. They belong to each other and no one else." She wiped tears from her eyes and Hannah felt her own eyes flood when she realized how adult 13 year-old Becky looked just then. "So it's okay. It's okay, Mama. It's okay."

And Hannah fell into tears anyway, distraught over the loss of both her children, one to Death's fleeting hand, and the other to adulthood.

A week later, there was rain.

It fell gently on the heads of friends and family at the joint funeral of Isaac Allen Tatum and Daniel Kenneth Riccio. Across the street from the funeral home, watching from under a green awning, was a young, dark-haired woman in an earthy dress and white heels, and an older man with a lined face in a conservative black suit.

"Pity they had to die," the woman said, sipping a pink cup of tea. "But it's all for good in the end. Don't you agree?"

"Yes, Milady." The man watched Hannah Toney and Ken Riccio share an awkward hug. "That's what's so amazing about You."

"Ah, darling, don't flatter Me so. You are just as amazing, convincing those boys you were really the devil."

"I'm close enough." The man grinned. "It's just as Danny said, though. There is no good and no evil. Just... people."

"No, that's not entirely correct." She smiled. "It's more like there's no sin and no virtue. Everyone dies in the end. Then, they can do as they please; try life again, become a sprite like you or an archangel like Caleb and Delilah, or simply stay as they are." She sipped Her tea. "I think that's what Danny and Isaac will do. Remain spirits for eternity. Stay together forever."

"Yes, Milady." The man paused to thank the waitress who brought him his coffee, then smirked as she had the misfortune to trip and fall on her face. The Lady smacked his wrist.

"Stop playing. We should be mourning."

"Don't be silly." He laughed. "Mourning what? Danny and Isaac are happy together, aren't they? What are we mourning for?"

A strange half-smile curled up Her face. "I like you much better when you're not playing devil."

"I hate playing devil. Will We have to do it again soon?"

"Eventually." She sighed. "What these people believe! I can't imagine where they get their strange ideas of perfection, angels, and peace. Haven't they learned yet that I do nothing without reason?"

The man smiled and stood up. "They'll never learn that, Milady. Shall I pay?"

"Please?"

She stood up as he placed a five-dollar bill on the table. "Ah," he sighed, sipping his coffee. "How I love humanity. They may believe strange things, but they invent fantastic others."

"Indeed." She smiled. "Come along now. Everything is in place here. It's time to set up others."

"Shall I join You?"

"Of course!" She giggled. "Humans aren't the only ones that need companionship."

And when They stepped out from under the awning, he put his arm around Her shoulders, and they walked together, seen by no one, but felt by all.

"There ain't no sin and there ain't no virtue. There's just stuff people do. It's all part of the same thing. And some of the things folks do is nice and some ain't nice, but that's as far as any man got a right to say." ~ John Steinbeck, The Grapes of Wrath.

***AUTHOR'S NOTE***

And so... it ends. I hope it made sense to everyone. ^_^; I'm really happy with this ending; it's the third one I wrote and the only one I actually like. ^_^

Okay, I have to go to bed now. I have practice in the morning. Night, ya'll. ^_^