A/N: Here's a prologue to a story that's been floating around in my head for a bit. I'm not sure I like it, or know a hundred percent exactly where I'm trying to go with it, but I figured why the hell not? I know Derek's kinda OOC, and I'm sorry. But go with it, yeah? I can only do so much.

Disclaimer: Own nothing. So chill.

"Take me away, Derek." Her voice is soft, somber. Not pleading or desperate as the sentence implies. Derek groans into his pillow, not at all ready to be woken up.

"What the hell?" It's the only thing he can think to say. It's three in the morning, he's in his boxers, in his bed, and she's asking him to take her away? His brain is too cloudy to comprehend this.

"Take me somewhere. Anywhere." She's sitting primly on the edge of his bed, fully clothed and distant. His hazed mind is trying to figure out if this is a dream or not.

He's deciding nay, as with most of his dreams, she'd be crawling up his body by now, not wearing a sweater and jeans. And he wouldn't be pissed at being woken up so goddamn early.

"Casey, I told you lay off the sugared products. They're almost like crack to you." His voice is raw and scratchy, symptoms of being wretched from his coma-like sleep.

"Which might be a good thing. I have a toothbrush somewhere. And my walls could definitely use a good scrub." He snickers somewhat at his lame joke. At the ass-crack of dawn, he felt everything he said was comedic gold.

She doesn't respond, and his snicker dies into a cramped silence. She continues to stare at him somewhat expectantly.

"Seriously. It's three in the morning, and you're waking me up to take you somewhere? I know you're crazy and all, but this is completely insane, even for you." His wit has left him and now all he has fueling his state of alertness is annoyance.

"Please, Derek." And this time her words are pleading and her tone is screaming desperation.

"Jesus Christ, Casey. Just go back to bed. It's too damn early for your girl shit," he says, ignoring the unease brewing in the pit of his stomach. Tiredness outweighs any other feeling at the moment, and he just wants to go back to sleep.

He rolls back over, confident that the strange conversation is at its end. But before he can settle back into his mattress, he feels a feeble grasp cover his right ankle. His body stiffens and he tries to shake it off.

"Let go of me." She tightens her hold as he starts to flail his leg. The heel of his foot comes in contact with her thigh, and with a small 'oof' she releases his ankle. He smirks into his pillow, but it turns back into a scowl when he realizes that she hasn't moved off his bed.

"Goddammit, go to bed," he growls, the words muffled by the pillow he face is still smashed against. He hears a small sob escape from her throat and panic rises in him.

He twists around so he's facing the ceiling and starts to nudge her with his foot.

"No crying. No, no, no, no. No."

He cranes his neck so he can see her. Nausea claims his stomach as he finally allows his brain to process the girl sitting in front of him.

Her shoulders are slumped, hair disheveled, and he swears that her sweater is missing a few buttons.

His anger vanishes and unease rushes back, and he sits up stiffly. She fidgets as he scrutinizes her. There is a bruise forming on her left cheek. He is now fully awake and completely aware that something is horribly wrong.

"What the hell happened to you?" It comes out crueler then he intended and she flinches. His body tenses but his tone softens.

"Casey. What happened?" he asks again, voice uncharacteristically concerned. He scoots himself down his bed to sit in front of her. He notices some more bruises along her jaw, arms, and bile starts to rise up his throat. He reaches his hand out, moving to trace the discolored skin absentmindedly, but she recoils. He lets his hand drop back down to his lap and feels something akin to fear.

Was she…

"Case—"

"Take me away, Derek," she interrupts. Silent tears still running down her cheeks. Smudges of mascara marring her flushed cheeks. Her lipstick is smeared and all Derek can think is that it's not right. Her lipstick is never smeared.

He tries again.

"Case—"

"Please." The whisper is heavy and broken.

He watches her, almost afraid to look away, as she crumbles apart and lets the misery take over. He doesn't know what else to do, so he awkwardly pats her back, making what he hopes are reassuring shushing sounds every so often.

After a few minutes, the sobs die down and Casey slumps against Derek, exhaustion consuming her. Sometime during her breakdown, his awkward pats became soothing circles and his forced consoling became real concern.

And his uneasiness multiplied.

"Uh—" He struggles to get out his words, the moment too thick and deep for him to function as he normally would.

He clears his throat three times before he finally finds his words.

"Um, where do you wanna go?"

They sit in silence for a moment, Casey resting in his lap, and Derek semi-aware that he's only in his boxers, rubbing small circles across his beaten stepsister's back.

He feels uncomfortable at how comfortable all this is.

"Anywhere but here," she finally answers. It takes Derek a few blinks before he processes what her statement meant, and only vaguely remembers asking her the question in the first place.

"Okay."

Thirty-five minutes later, speeding down highway 401, a small part of Derek tells him that this is not a good idea. But hearing a frighten whimper come from his sleeping passenger, he ignores that part and continues driving.

Anywhere but here it is, he thinks, glancing over at Casey. I'll get you as far away as I can.

TBC