A/N: Oh, hello there. Here's the next part to my fic. Hopefully I'm splitting it up relatively well. Expect about two more chapters, but if my 'epilogue' is shorter than I am expecting, then I may be able to stick it on for an extra super special last chapter. :D I dunno if I like these chapter fic things. They are much more stressful than my usual, but maybe that's because this is sorta like a mystery and I have no IDEA how to do that. Psssh. I'm just going with it.

I hope you enjoy ze fic! Thanks for sticking around, or tuning in, or clicking on it or whatever. I really really appreciate your feedback and I feel as though I am truly becoming a better writer because of all of you. And if you're here from tumblr, why hello, friend, thanks so much for following me all the way to Fanfiction land.

Disclaimer: No really. I'm not CP. I didn't write Dalton. I don't own whatever products I have mentioned in this fic. I'm just a teenage girl who sits on her computer all day.

It had been a long fucking day.

They stopped at 12 at night, pulling over to the first motel they found in a tiny town somewhere in Blue Springs, Missouri. They had driven 12 hours straight and Derek was most definitely ready to collapse onto a motel bed and sleep for days. It wasn't even the freaking driving, it was the insanity within the car, having both Casey and Logan in one place at one time, with one goal in both of their insane little minds: make his life suck.

And they were definitely succeeding.

Tomorrow wouldn't be as bad, Derek told himself. Tomorrow, Logan was going to sit up front so he wouldn't have to deal with Casey, who liked to change the radio every five seconds, who liked to eat in his car and get crumbs EVERYWHERE, who couldn't sit still and squirmed worse than a four-year-old toddler with ADHD addicted to energy drinks and pixy stixs, who smelled like citrus and probably tasted just as he remembered.

Sure, Logan would probably deride him and his driving the whole time, but at least he would sit still and smell like normal, unappealing boy.

This road trip really was the worst idea he ever had. Thank god it was half over.

Logan beat him into the shower, slamming the door shut the minute they entered their motel room, leaving Derek to prepare the beds and wait around until it was open. In the middle of taking off his socks and shoes, the door swung open and Casey leaned in. "I just put my stuff in my room, so I'm going to go get something to eat, okay? There's a bar right down the road."

Derek stopped in the middle of pulling off his left sock. "Uh. No you're not."

Casey slowly blinked and leaned against the door frame. "And why is that?"

"Because I said so and it would be a horrible idea."

Casey's frame slumped against the doorway and she groaned. "What? Babysitting Logan isn't enough for you? You've gotta babysit me too?"

Derek resisted the urge to throttle her and pulled his sock back on. He stood up and walked toward her. "Case, partying at Windsor is one thing. I don't care if you get drunk there. But this is the real world. We're not at some high-class private school anymore. It's not safe to go to a bar alone in the middle of nowhere and get drunk."

"Who said I was going to drink? I'm underage anyway," Casey mumbled and fiddled with the hem of her shirt.

"You know that they'd sell it to you anyway. You're hot, Casey. They're gonna wanna get you drunk so they can fuck you."

Her eyes darted up from the carpet and to his face, and her expression was nearly unreadable, her eyes dark, though they stared straight through him. She stared at him for a few more seconds, before her lips parted and she murmured something.

"What?"

She shrugged, "I can take care of myself, you know."

"But you're not invincible," Derek stared down at her, biting his lip. "Let's just go to the gas station across the street, buy some crappy snacks, and eat them in our crappy motel rooms. Now doesn't that sound more fun than a bar?"

"No, it sounds like what me and my girl friends used to do when we were eleven. Thanks, Derek, but if I wanted to go to a slumber party, I would have stayed in Prima and let Hope paint my toenails pretty princess pink."

"Hey, we can do that too. I'll get the nail polish," Derek grinned and was surprised when his comment actually earned a laugh out of Casey, a smile that looked genuine and kind. The sound of her laughter again, over something he said, made his heart flutter like he was a schoolgirl. "C'mon, let's have our own slumber party."

"Fine," Casey giggled, clasping her hands together. "…But only if I get to paint your toenails too."

They raced across the street, the Cheshire smile of the moon shining above the little, dingy gas station across from them. Derek beat Casey, but she swore it was only because his legs were longer and he was the one who said "Go."

"The person who says "Go" always wins," Casey explained, nodding seriously. "It's fact."

They held a new race—first one to find the moonpies would win. Casey insisted on being the one to say go this time and she counted—1, 2, 3, GOAT. Derek fell for her nasty little trick and for his penalty, Casey got a headstart of two seconds.

This was also cheating in Derek's book, but whatever.

Down the aisle, up the aisle, Derek grabbed whatever he thought looked mildly edible, but anything with chocolate was a must-have. He nearly bumped into Casey, who, of course, successfully held the moonpies.

"Do we have money for all this?" Casey asked him. Derek did not really know—he was putting it all on Logan's card anyway.

He located the cheap beer in the back, whipped out his fake ID and bought two packs of the stuff, along with their three bags of total junk food that neither of them will finish. The cashier rung them out without even looking at his ID, but Derek figured that, considering the stubble on his cheeks, the cashier thought he was of age anyway.

They ran back, but they didn't race this time. They ran side-by-side instead.

Logan was asleep by the time they got to the motel, passed out while still in his clothes, Beautiful playing on repeat, his phone clutched to his chest. Derek did not have the heart to wake him up, so he tiptoed to Casey's room and sat on her bed, dumping all the snacks out there.

And they quickly, and easily, got drunk.

"Okay, okay, my turn," Casey grinned. "Never have I ever...kissed a girl."

"That's not even fair! You're such a cheater," Derek removed his other sock and threw it at her. She made a face and flicked it onto the floor, giggling through her grimace.

"Oh and "Never have I ever worn a thong" wasn't cheating?" Casey exclaimed.

"Hey, hey, I know guys who like that, it was so legitimate," Derek popped a dorito in his mouth and crunched loudly, speaking through his food. "Plus I wanted to know if you did."

"Now you know," Casey wiggled her eyebrows, took a swing of her beer. "Ahh…okay, go."

"Never have I ever stayed up the entire night."

"Pussy," Casey brought her shirt above her head, but she was wearing a simple black lace cami underneath. "I had to do that for a fundraiser, dude."

"I value my sleep, s'all."

"I value the children."

"You probably don't even remember the charity," Derek said and instantly got hit in the face with a pillow. He grabbed at it and tried to tug it away from her, but only tugged her closer to him, as she clung to it fiercely, and he gave up before she did, letting her yank the pillow back.

"Okay…," Casey pursed her lips. "Hmm…never have I ever gotten punched."

Derek threw his shirt to the side. "But you've punched someone before."

"Multiple times, multiple people, but they always deserved it." Casey adjusted her position, lying on her side and popping a Dove chocolate into her mouth. "Hey…y'know how you said that thing before?"

"Uh, sure," Derek mimicked her position and supported his head with his arm. They were lying horizontal, face-to-face, no more than two feet apart. Derek could smell the beer on her breath and the scent of her shampoo, but he tried hard not to think about it.

"You know," she continued, playing with a loose string on the bed. "When I wanted to go to the bar and you were like 'No don't, men will get you drunk and have sex with you bla bla bla bla bla bla.'"

Derek slowly nodded. "Yeah…so?"

"Well isn't that what you're doing now?" Casey smiled devilishly at him and tugged at the string. "Getting me drunk and naked so you can have sex with me?"

The taste of the cheap beer tasted a whole lot more bitter now. He licked his lips. "No, it's…it's so completely totally different."

"Nuh-uh," she shook her head and tugged at the string again.

"Yeah huh…I mean, like, they would have been strangers and we're like, sorta friends…maybe, so it's not the same at all," Derek stared at her hand as she tugged. Why the hell was he so nervous? "Like they would take advantage of you and shit, but I wouldn't do that."

Casey stopped tugging the string. Her hand went still. Slowly, Derek looked back up at Casey and saw that she had the same expression as earlier, eyes dark and unreadable, not quite kind or vicious, but definitely penetrating.

She blinked at him, said nothing, just downed the last quarter of her beer and crushed the can in her hand. She tossed it to the side. She inched a little bit closer to him, and reached out and took his beer and finished that as well, in one fell swig.

"Whoa now—"

"Never have I ever," Casey interrupted, crushing the can again, "cheated on a person."

The room got deathly quiet.

Derek couldn't move—his blood was frozen in his veins, but he was burning with guilt.

"Here," she whispered, somehow very close to him now, having closed most of the distance without him even noticing. "Let me help you with that." Her hand slid down and undid his belt, yanking it out of the loops and throwing it behind her. Her mouth was set in a determined line. "Your turn."

Heart beating fast, he said, "Never have I ever regretted dating someone."

Her cami slid over her head. Her bra, a simple black solid bra, mocked him and her silent answer to his silent question burned in his brain. He wanted to cry.

"Never have I ever kept secrets from someone I care about," She whispered, her hand unbuttoned his jeans.

"Never have I ever taken advantage of someone," She unzipped his fly, blinking rapidly— he could see the tears in her eyes.

"Never have I ever broken someone's heart," Her voice broke and he watched the tears fall, the hole in his heart growing. She squeezed her eyes closed and with a quivering sob, she began to tug down his jeans—

He stopped her.

"Yes," he whispered. "Yes, you have."

Her head snapped up and her eyes, glimmering with tears, were wide and surprised. Her mouth parted as if to say something, but she didn't.

And he didn't know why he didn't move away then, like he should have. But now she was too close, her hands still resting on his hips, her citrusy smell muddling his rationale more than any alcohol ever could. And her mouth, looking soft and parted slightly, almost like an invitation. And so he reached out and wiped away her tears, held her face and kissed her, like the stupid boy he was.

Casey kissed back. It was a soft kiss, no tongue, just their breath intermingling and their lips tasting each other again, through the salt and the beer.

It was just what he remembered, all that he wanted, and everything he would never deserve.

And then Casey's hands came up to his bare chest—his skin tingled where she laid them—and she pushed him away.

"No," she said brokenly. "No." She took his hand away from her face and sat up, wiping away the tears that were now rapidly falling from her eyes, her body shaking.

"Casey, please, wait—" Derek sat up as well and grabbed her hand, attempted to get her to stay with him—

"NO!" She shrieked at him and flew off the bed. "Get the fuck away from me!"

It was like the world was crashing down on him again, and just like before, he couldn't walk away—he tried to pick up the pieces as they fell all around him and shattered on the floor. Derek jumped across the bed and went toward her, but she retreated farther and farther into the corner.

"Stop!" She was sobbing, all of a sudden hysterical. "Go away, Derek!"

"You need to listen to me," He pleaded. He reached out to touch her again—

She slapped him across the face.

"Don't touch me!" She screamed at him and pounded on his chest with her fists. "Don't you EVER touch me again!"

"Casey, please, let me just talk to—"

"STOP IT!"

"Casey, I need you—"

"I HATE YOU."

With immeasurable strength, Casey forced him back and there was nothing Derek could do—he couldn't overpower her—she was stronger than him. In every way. In all ways. She always had been and would continue to be, even now when he had made her cry, even now when he couldn't do the right thing and just leave, though he knew he should.

But Casey, like always, made him do the right thing.

She pushed him to the door and he fled her room, let her slam her door in his face, but he couldn't move beyond that. He stood staring at the door, listening to the sounds of Casey crying on the other side of the thin motel walls. Around four, her crying eventually stopped and she was asleep. Only then did he slide down into a sitting position against the wall, and let his exhaustion flood him, though it did nothing to drown his desperation. He cried himself to sleep

In the morning, he woke up when Casey opened her creaking door, his body jumping at the unexpected, nails-on-a-chalkboard noise. Casey paused and looked down at him, her eyes unbelievably tired and red. She said nothing, dropped his shoes and shirt in his lap and retreated into the room.

His head pounded. He felt like an iron wrench was pulling at his heart, uprooting it from inside his chest. His mouth still tasted like Casey and beer. He took a shower, but he still smelled citrus.

Logan asked him what was wrong, but he just told Logan to shut up, and threw him the keys. There was no way he was driving.

They all climbed into the car at 10, junk food from last night piled in the trunk, Casey in the front seat again, Derek shunned to the back. He put on his sunglasses and attempted to sleep, but every time he closed his eyes and drifted, there would be a sharp turn, a speedbump, and he would be jolted back into reality, and he would squirm in the silence. He could feel Casey's anger and he boiled in it.

He deserved it too. He was the one who messed up everything. He was the one who cheated. He was the one who got scared and who couldn't believe in them. Fuck, he was a walking cliché from a soap opera. He was the player who everyone loved to hate, who was terrified of his own heart and his own emotions. And because he was such a jackass, he cost himself Casey.

And he was the one who was selfish. He shouldn't have kissed her, as beautiful as she was, as sexy and hilarious and brilliant she was. He should have talked to her. It had been an opportunity to talk to Casey and apologize and he had missed it. Because he was selfish.

And he was the one who didn't leave. The one who pursued her when she didn't want to be pursued. Who pushed and pushed and scared her. He deserved to get kicked out, to sleep on motel carpet and suffer this silent treatment. Maybe she was right. Maybe Julian had gotten fed up and simply left, and here Derek was chasing him, like he was chasing Casey, when really Julian just wanted to be left alone. This journey was a joke. These roads led nowhere, to nothing, and certainly not to Forgiveness, especially for those who did not deserve it.

Two hours passed, no one said a word.

Three hours, Logan took them to a drive-through, they ordered, and went on their way, silently eating their food.

Five hours, Logan turned down the radio and asked Casey how she was.

Seven hours, Derek listened to Logan and Casey laughing and felt so insanely, immediately jealous and angry at Logan and himself.

Eight hours, a sign welcomed them to Forgiveness, Colorado, and sunset began.

Logan parked the car high in the mountains, by a visitor's center. "We have to walk the rest of the way," he said.

"Should we wait until morning?" Casey asked, peeking out her window at the brilliant red and orange painted sky. "How far is it?"

"An hour's walk straight up," Logan answered. "I don't want to wait any longer." He took the keys out of the ignition, threw them back to Derek, kicked open the door, and climbed out. Logan was going whether they followed him or not.

But there was no way Derek was going to let him do it alone. For a moment, he forgot about Casey and about his headache, and he climbed out of the back, opening the trunk so he could get their book bags of stuff—clothes or whatever—fishing for the flashlight in the pocket of his own. Casey took her own backpack silently, and put her hair up.

For a while, they were in silence just like the car trip, but as the day was growing darker, Derek could see that Logan was growing more and more tense. His jaw would clench and his fingers were rooting themselves deep in his hair, running his hands through the locks every minute or so. And Derek was nervous too. What the hell were they going to find?

He walked closer to Logan's side and clasped a hand on his friend's shoulder. "Whatever we find…it'll be okay, alright, man?"

Logan glanced at him and shook his head. "I don't know how you can say that. If we find nothing, I just…"

"We'll keep looking," Derek answered immediately. "Even if he doesn't want to be found. He doesn't get to run away. Not from us."

"Derek, can I just…" Logan stopped and shook his head, laughing quietly at himself. "It's stupid, but… I've been thinking a lot about everything Julian left us and what he wanted to say or what he was trying to say…and between the four-hundreth and five-hundreth playing of Beautiful, I realized that…I…he loves me. He loves me, doesn't he, Derek?"

Derek nearly tripped over his own feet in his shock. "Wh-what?"

Logan smiled. "I knew it! God, I've been so stupid, Derek. How can you stand me, honestly? Shit, Julian," He laughed again, at himself or at some joke that Derek was missing out on.

Derek was still speechless. "Wha—I still can't believe you finally—how—I—"

Logan laughed even more and looked down at his hands as he shook his head. "I don't really know. It was right after I realized that I cared about him way more than I was supposed to. I just kept thinking—'God, fuck Julian for leaving without me. Doesn't he know that no place is going to be beautiful enough if we're not there together? Why would he ever leave me behind?' Then, I realized…I wanted to be with him and that it was me who had chased him away, because I was such an ignorant prick that kept hurting him over and over."

"We don't know that for sure, yet, Logan," Derek murmured to his friend. "I still think he left against his own will."

"Forgive me and I'll forgive you," Logan quoted. "He might have been pointing to Forgiveness, but he was also telling me that I had hurt him. And y'know, until I did forgive him for leaving, I couldn't forgive myself for forcing him to, and I couldn't see that he loved me. He was right. He was fucking right about everything."

Derek stared at Logan and said slowly, "…who knew Julian was such a motherfucking wise guy, huh?"

Logan rolled his eyes. "Right."

They walked in a comfortable silence, shoulders brushing, for a little longer. Then Logan spoke again,

"Derek, will you forgive me too?"

"What for, dude?"

"For failing you as a friend. I haven't always been there for you over these years and I would never want to lose you, either, you know. If it was you instead of Julian—"

"Yeah, yeah, I know."

"No really, I want you to realize that I love you—"

"Oh dear god, shut up," Derek scratched at the back of his neck, his face glowing red. "I forgive you, Lo, okay? So long as you can forgive me for all of my shit as well."

"Derek…I think you're asking the wrong person here."

When they arrived at the cabin, the sun was nearly gone completely, the last of its rays clinging to the bottom of the horizon stubbornly. Derek had his flashlight on, and Logan and Casey were using their phones for light.

The cabin was ominous in the dark and seeing it lying between the trees, silent, dark, seemingly empty, sent shivers into Derek's skin. He had a horrible, horrible feeling about this and moved himself closer to Casey as subtly as he could. Around him, the wind picked up and ghosted through the trees.

"I'm not seeing any lights," Casey murmured to the both of them. "…I'm kinda freaked out here, guys. We really should wait until morning."

Logan stared straight on. "We came this far. It's just two hundred more feet."

"Yeah, and it's just twelve more hours if we wait until morning," Casey hissed to him, but he was already walking toward the cabin, no qualms, no concerns. His body was a rock.

Derek wanted nothing more than to reach out and take Casey's hand in his own and walk with her together, tell her that it would all be okay. He didn't dare though and simply followed Logan, feeling guilty when he heard Casey cursing behind him, following reluctantly. He remembered the Donald duck nightlight by the side of Casey's bed, and how she liked having the door to his room open just a pinch whenever she was there that night, and her confession that she was stupidly (adorably) afraid of the dark.

He looked back at her. She was scared now, but it didn't show on her face.

They stood quietly in front of the cabin for a few seconds, waiting for Logan to act. The prefect did not knock. He carefully turned the knob, expecting it to be locked—but it gave way, and the door creaked open.

Derek shined his flashlight in and illuminated the bloody face of Julian Larson.