A/N: I updated faster this time! Hehe, just to make up for my lengthy hiatus. No tweets included here and this chapter is an add-on, although much of the next chapters will be pretty much be different from the original plot (because I couldn't remember most their tweets anymore, hahaha!). Although, I will include the important tweets/parts (that I remember, and that I will have to dig using Twimemachine), if the flow of the story permits.

Happy reading!

Disclaimer: I do not own LwD or any of the TMs and registered TMs included here.

Chapter 10: Smacks and Delusions

"No!"

"I knew it."

The littlest Venturi let the whole weight of her upper body slump on her feet as she assumed a kneeling position. She couldn't help but groan in disbelief at the result of the confrontation. And Lizzie, still wide-eyed, with her ear still pressed on the door, couldn't help but inwardly praise herself for having her theory confirmed. The three younger kids had been eavesdropping ever since they heard some unusual, beyond-normal Derek/Casey shouting fest coming from upstairs. There was something in the tone that was different from the ordinary, and if there is something different from the ordinary, they should be there investigating it.

"What? They're just talking about fishes," declared a puzzled Edwin, whose left ear had also still been glued to the door.

Lizzie rolled her eyes and released her head from its resting position against the wood, "They're talking about themselves. C'mon, Sherlock, and I thought you can sleuth better than that." To which Edwin responded with a dirty look.

Ignoring his stares, she looked away to the side, eyes squinted as she voiced her thoughts, "I knew it. I knew there's something going on between them. I can feel it."

"Well, I can't feel anything and I still don't understand how that ties up with fishes," he mentioned as he crossed his arms and snorted.

Throwing her hands in the air, Lizzie widened her eyes at him in disbelief and shot him an are-you-serious look. From which, in a matter of seconds, she retreated, coming to a conclusion that insensitivity is probably an allele in the XY gene of the Venturi lineage.

"You're a Venturi guy. I guess you're meant to be clueless."

"Hey!" Edwin reacted in defense, shooting a menacing look at his McDonald counterpart.

"Shh! Footsteps getting closer!" Marti hushed and alerted them in a firm but whispered voice, as she kept her ears pasted on her older brother's door.

"Uh-oh, abort mission. I repeat, abort mission!" Edwin commanded in a hushed tone.

The three of them scurried to different places, although the two older ones in the group ended up in the same place, a few steps close to the end of the stairwell platform, to much of Lizzie's irritation. Edwin almost knocked her off of the stairs because he was dashing too fast; good thing, he caught her arm and prevented her from falling altogether. Marti, who climbed up the other stairs leading to the attic, moved a few steps down to take a peek at what was happening downstairs. Rolling her eyes and hitting her forehead with an open palm, she let out a breath of air and smirked, then ran upstairs to hide.

Then there was a moment of silence when the door handle began to twist and out came a heavily heaving Casey who jolted a little when she caught sight of the two younger stepsiblings appearing to come upstairs and toward her.

Lizzie gave Edwin's shirt a light pull, signaling him to start moving.

"Haha, Edwin, you're so funny!"

She started feigning laughter, hitting his arm as if she were getting amused at their own conversation, purposely ignoring her older sister's presence.

"Ow!" He reacted to the hitting, glaring at his companion, who glared back with a reminder. "Oh! Hah! Yeah, 'cause... 'seven eight nine'. Who would've thought? Hah!"

Casey hurriedly wiped her eyes dry and rushed to her room, almost slamming the door behind her. Just as she had disappeared, Derek peered from his door that was slightly ajar, eyebrows scrunched, and obviously irritated at the two boisterous creatures almost nearing the top of the stairs. Luckily for them, he wasn't in the mood for any scowling, butt-kicking, talking, or anything that involved movement or burning of calories at the moment. His gaze moved from them to the attic stairs where a hiding girl had been lurking. The said girl took a few steps down to meet her Smerek's stare. His expression went from annoyed to dreary, eyes bearing sadness that she could've sworn she had seen once in the past, and Marti couldn't help but feel hurt for him. She wanted to reach out to her brother and give him a tight hug, but before she could even move an inch more, he slowly began to push the door shut.

"Edwin, you're so not funny," Lizzie announced with gritted teeth after the two oldest disappeared into their respective places in the house. They were now seated on the carpet inside Lizzie's room, figuring the Games Closet was becoming too claustrophobic for the three of them. Edwin was about to defend himself, mouth already gaped, finger pointed at her in preparation when he was cut off by Marti's words.

"He's sad. Ed... Smerek is sad," the little girl croaked amidst the forming of tears on the sides of her eyes.

"Marti," he reached out to his sister and pulled her into a hug, to which she responded by wrapping her arms around his waist and sobbing into his shirt.

"We know, Marti," Lizzie ran her fingers on Marti's hair and rubbed her shoulders.

Sniffing and wiping the tears away from her eyes, she sat up straight and inquired, "Should I go and check up on him?"

"Hmm, not yet," Edwin replied after giving it some thought. "If what I heard was right and what Lizzie said was also right, then the shark is still in 'The Nile'."

"'The Nile'?" Lizzie cast him a questioning look, eyebrow raised.

"Yeah, you know. 'The Nile', 'denial'. Good one, huh! 'Cause he's a fish, and it's... a river... and... I'm gonna shut up now."

She rolled her eyes at her stepbrother's ridiculousness as he pouted and crossed his arms, "Focus."

"Fine!" He shook his head and continued, "Well, they can't know that we know or they'll never talk to each other again. Think of the awkwardness."

"Ed, they're bound not to talk to each other anymore. Did you not hear how the conversation turned out?"

"Yeah, yeah, I know! The shark doesn't want to eat the fisherman. We've established that point, okay!"

Since the two were deeply engrossed in their own argument, they didn't notice that Marti took off and went out of the room. She stood in front of Derek's door, exactly where Casey had been hours earlier. Sighing heavily, she lifted her hand and prepared to knock but then decided to keep herself from doing so, letting her brother think in peace – for now. Her eyes moved from the door to the table on the side as her head turned. She was staring at the phone on top when an idea popped in her head and her eyes shot wide.

Marti let herself inside the room again to a still arguing Lizzie and Edwin. Standing high above her floor-seated brother and stepsister, she dangled the phone at eye-level to distract them. Both of them looked at the device and then at her, puzzled as to what she was doing with it.

"I think we need some backup."

The other two looked at different directions as they tried to process what she was insinuating with her announcement.

"No way," Edwin reacted first.

"It might get out of hand!" Lizzie mentioned quickly right after.

But Marti wasn't to be stopped; she had thought it through and made a decision – although, not too sure whether the decision was wrong or right. But at least there was something of a progress, or a hold-back, depending on how it would turn out. She held the phone up and pressed buttons to dial a particular phone number.

"Who are you calling?"

"Where did you get that number?"

Inquiries kept flooding from the other two, but she only responded with a devious smirk and a shrug.

"Der-ek!"

Casey shuffled back and forth on her bed, kicking her sheets and carelessly throwing her pillows on the floor. It was almost noon and she just woke up to being awarded with the biggest headache of the century. Her frizzy bedhead hair was all over the place, stray strands still glued to her cheeks, and her entire pajama outfit was actually inside out, which she probably didn't notice when she put them on last night – and clearly, she didn't care. She extended her arms to reach one of her nightstands and recklessly pulled the drawers so that her belongings spilled on the ground. Without leaving the bed, she examined the exposed drawer contents lying sloppily on the floor. Not here. Grunting loudly, she continued with the same action on the other side table. Not here, too! She let her feet set firmly on the mattress, stood up, and stomped her way to the edge before getting off the bed. Scanning the bookshelf quickly for the cause of her midday rampage, she scratched her head briskly in annoyance. It's not here!

"Where's my book!" She finally screamed loudly while still wrecking havoc inside her once peaceful and organized haven, voicing out the words in between heavy breathing. "My Wuthering Heights book, where is it?"

Giving the carpet one last stomp, she shrieked again, "Where's my book! Ugh!"

Without giving it a second thought, she scampered across her room, forced the door open and stood outside of her neighbor's door as if she were a disgruntled next-door person asking someone to lower down the volume of whatever ruckus it was that he was listening to because she was trying to sleep. Okay, so she does that, too, occasionally. Regularly. But today, she was in front of that door to give the good for nothing, thieving, conniving, prick, pig, slob, gaaaah of a person a piece of her mind and a lot of her mouth – meaning, her words.

Booming her fist in fast successions against his door, which felt like it would come timbering down any minute if she continued slamming her hand on it, she called out onto him and demanded him to 'open the door this instant, or else!'. When no reply came from the other side, she went on knocking angrily and hoping that her temper would wake his cold body so that she could get her hands on him, strangle him to death, and become permanently cold.

"Case!"

She heard a call from behind but she was too busy to pay more attention, still screaming and threatening her annoying zit that won't pop that if he didn't give the book back, he might as well say goodbye to every single hockey card he had ever collected in life – plus his leather jacket and/or his precious 'Prince'.

"Casey!"

Finally, she turned around to see her sister calling unto her from the bottom of the stairs. She leaned forward to look closer, wiping some of the stray hair from her face.

"Actually, Casey, it's here, downstairs in the living room," Lizzie cleared, hoping that she wouldn't dash down the steps to lash out all her anger on her. She had seen, and suffered from, her freak-out episodes before, but this was probably one of the worst ones to date.

"Huh?" Casey, still catching her breath, raised an eyebrow and placed both hands on the sides of her waist, as she tried to calm herself and recall how it ended up downstairs. Seconds later, her pale skin turned crimson red upon realization of her mistake.

"Oh."

"And Derek's not home," Her younger sister added, giving her a concerned look.

"He... isn't?" She replied, with a slight disappointment in her voice – that she would never admit having. "Oh."

They looked at each other for a little while, and each second passing by, Casey was beginning to show signs of vulnerability in her eyes. And before she could make a mistake of letting it dominate herself, she shook her head and put on her indifference, "So?"

"Honey, are you okay? Come and eat. You haven't eaten anything since last night," called out a worried Nora, who had just emerged from the basement after arranging the newly laundered clothes in their closet. Casey was currently dashing down the stairs to retrieve her 'lost/stolen' book.

"I'm fine," she responded with as little feeling as she could manage, and then went back upstairs and into her room.

The living room occupants – Edwin and Marti – and the mother and daughter couldn't help but look at each other with worried faces. Though, Edwin merely shrugged and shook his head moments after.

Thirty minutes later...

"My pen," Casey held her breath as she went through the contents of her drawer again. She had already cleaned up the mess that she had made a while ago; however, from the sound of her panting, she would have another round of hyperventilation and hyper-Casey-ation.

"My favorite quill pen. Where's my pen?" She hurried towards her computer table to see if she had placed it there absentmindedly. Negatory. Under the table? Somewhere in the bookcase? Under the bed? No, no, no, no, no! "Where's my pen!"

DEREK. She knew it was his fault this time; she saw him eyeing it when he came in barging into her room weeks ago. There was something in his eyes that spelt 'no good' and 'I'm taking it'. Pursing her lips and squinting her eyes, she exited her room in a flash and halted at the top of the stairs before screaming her lungs out.

"Der-ek! Where's my quill pen!"

The other occupants of the house, minus Nora who was outside in the backyard, grumbled under their breath, rolled their eyes, and slumped lower in their places on the couch. It looked like there would never be peace and quiet and uninterrupted TV-watching in their house, ever again. Not when the Derek, Der-ek, Derek!-screaming Freak-enstein remained on the loose.

"Casey, you left it on top of the kitchen counter," Lizzie monotonously mentioned, letting her chin sink deeper into the throw pillow she was hugging.

"And, he's not home!" Edwin added loudly, rolling his eyes.

Moments later, they heard a set of footsteps coming down the stairs and heading into the kitchen. But they kept their eyes on the TV, desperately trying to learn the art of ignore-Casey-and-Derek-gami, which they hope were as simple as the art of folding paper. Alas, it wasn't – unless they knew how to masterfully bend steel. Because that was how hard it was to ignore their presence.

When the set of footsteps disappeared once again upstairs with a door slam, Edwin moved closer to the two girls, who then looked at him at the same time to hear what he had to say.

"Bad news, guys," he started.

"I think..." He bit his lower lip momentarily to control himself from bursting, "Casey is going cr-asey!"

And the two girls grunted, letting their backs fall fast on the backrest of the couch in unison as the Edweirdo of the household commenced his laughing-fest. "'Cause, you know... Casey, crazy... they rhyme?"

"Ed, here's a toonie. Buy yourself another hobby," Lizzie forced a two-dollar coin into his hand, shook her head, and went dashing for the stairs.

"And an extra quarter. Take a bath! You reek!" Marti followed suit, rolled her eyes, and headed for the kitchen.

"Hey!" He twisted his head back and forth from the stairs to the kitchen and landed his stare back onto his right hand currently holding CAD $2.25. "Sweet, I can get paid to take a bath!"

"Oh, and I found that in your pocket," Marti added from way back in the kitchen after overhearing his victory screech. To which Edwin replied with glaring eyes.

"Hey, Casey!"

The door opened right after a soft knock had been made on it to reveal a smiling younger McDonald who proceeded to enter even without invitation or a quick response from her older sister. The said older sister was currently burying her head in her Wuthering Heights book and purposely ignoring and deterring other stimuli to engross herself in the story – for the nth time. However, seeing as she couldn't complete block out the fact that her younger sister was in her room and awaiting a word from her, she let out a sigh and spoke, still without taking her eyes off of the literature in her hands.

"Lizzie, please, not now."

"Uhm, well..." Lizzie insisted anyway, even if the other person wasn't in the mood to start a conversation. "... do you have anything to do tonight? I think we should have a 'girls' movie night' – you, me, and Marti?"

"Can't. I'm going out tonight," Casey replied flatly as she quickly turned the page to the next material.

"Oh, well... where are you going?"

"Out."

"Oh-kay, maybe a little more specific than that?" Lizzie continued, wanting to extract more information, but also concerned that she might be pushing it a little too far.

"On a date, Liz. Out on a date," Casey shot a quick glance at her sister and exclaimed with a heavy sigh, although without the firmness that she had intended for it to have.

There was complete silence in the room for a short moment, until it was broken by the faint sound of light movement of feet on the carpet as Lizzie drew closer to her older sister. The latter didn't seem to bother lifting her eyes for the second time; instead, she chose to scan the words on the page faster than usual, just to block off other things that she decided to be 'not worth her attention' at the moment.

"Is there something wrong? You don't look too happy about it," Lizzie started as she slowly let herself sit on the soft comforter, just about at the edge of the mattress, looking at Casey with much concern, hoping that by initiating the deep stuff conversation, she would somehow see her as a trustworthy confidante.

But Casey continued on with her nonchalant, monotonous, and indifferent answers, all the while still trying to make her mind dive deeper into the 19th century world of conflict and dark romance.

"I'm okay, Lizzie. Why wouldn't I be? I'm going out on a date with one of the most amazingly dashing guys I have ever met in my entire 18 years of living. He's sweet, sensible, caring, athletic, top of the class, and goal-oriented. Yes, of course I am happy about it."

"You've... gone out with him before?" Lizzie questioned, wondering if she had been missing anymore link to this whole Matthew issue.

"No."

"Then, how do you know he's sweet, sensible, or caring?"

"I'm assuming."

Lizzie sighed and stared at the floor for a little while, trying to process everything in her mind. It was hard enough to deal with a stubborn Derek for years, but now a stubborn Casey? Although she really felt concerned and troubled for her sister, she couldn't help but want to grab her book and whack her on the head with it. Of course, she would never dare in a million years; unless desperate times really called for desperate measures. And she was pretty much weighing the facts to come to a conclusion – maybe this could be considered as a desperate time.

Letting out another heavy breath, she turned her head to where her sister was sitting whose eyes were still and probably forever pasted on the pages of her book.

"Case, if you're unsure about this, don't go and make a mistake if you have time to prevent it."

"I'm doing the right thing. I'm sure of it. It's just a date, it's not the end of the world."

Yeah, but for someone else's world, it could be. Lizzie grunted and complained silently, resting her cheek on her palm, elbow atop her knee, and shooting a wisp of air upward with her lower lip, making loose strands of her hair float. She was finding it almost impossible to continue on speaking with her; not when she was as hard as rock, as immovable as an oak tree. It was a challenge for her to tear her walls down, because her sister was also building it back up. She desperately wanted to help, but she had no clue how to go about with the situation.

"I love the ground under his feet, and the air over his head, and everything he touches, and every word he says. I love all his looks, and all his actions, and him entirely and altogether!" Casey suddenly uttered in fast successions as she read aloud, making Lizzie jump a little from where she was sitting. Confused and startled, she looked at her sister like she was some hatter gone mad.

"How could these words come out with such vileness and contempt? That they weren't even meant and were certainly half true? How else could you begin to utter such captivating lines if you aren't hopelessly and ardently in love!" Casey continued on, still with much vigor and speed in her words, finally looking up and staring into open space and far beyond across her room.

Her facial features changed from being dynamically infuriated to entirely agitated as she closed her book shut. What was she complaining about? She definitely had no right to complain about the character's choice of words seeing as she herself had just done the same prior to coming to eye contact with that particular text. She sounded almost like Catherine as she went on describing her 'love' for Edgar when she described Matthew to Lizzie. Lies. Half-lies. But lies, nevertheless. Since when did she become good at lying? Ugh, how hypocritical of me!

But Lizzie knew she was lying. So, technically, she was wrong about thinking she was good at lying. How many wrongs had she been accumulating this week, again? A lifetime plus one?

"Liz?"

"Hmm?"

Casey shifted forward and assumed a kneeling position, placing her book on her nightstand. Her little sister, who had gone back to resting her cheek on her palm as she went into silence a few moments ago, turned her head slightly to face her.

"Can I at least have a hug?" She softly inquired, a hint of sadness looming in the fibers of her blue irises.

Lizzie, giving her sister a half smile, straightened herself and climbed up on the bed, immediately wrapping her arms around her and pulling her into a tight hug. Casey let her arms reciprocate the action and buried her face into her shoulders, trying her best to control the tears forming in her eyes.

"You know I'm always here, Case, even if others aren't anymore."

There was no audible response from her, only a gentle nod, which Lizzie could feel from the movement of the shirt fabric against her skin, and an even tighter hug. They remained in such a state until Casey broke the contact, putting a gap between them. They both chuckled, a sigh also escaping Casey's lips.

"And please eat? I can't take anymore of your Cr-asey-ness," Lizzie added, making Casey cast a weird look on her.

Rolling her eyes, she responded to her expression, "Don't ask."

"You better have a good excuse for this..."

Sam opened the front door of his place to a cranky-looking Derek, one hand on his waist, the other resting on the wall. Being the cool and composed half of the two, he merely gave him a smirk and an eye roll, as if he had expected this to happen and was well-prepared for it. He pulled the handle, opening the door wider, and gestured his hand in a gentlemanly fashion of saying 'come in'. Of course, the other one did not show signs of amusement. He squinted his eyes, and while dragging his feet inside, continued with his morning tirade which he performed rather animatedly for a supposedly 'tired' and 'sleepy' person.

"... making me wake up before noon on a weekend, and making me come here early in the morning!"

Derek's frustration was starting to increase with an increment of tenfold because of Sam's continued nonchalance and silence. He had finally sworn that silence is the most irritating thing that has ever been in existence and was only designed to subject a poor victim into a slow, excruciating, and inhumane demise. What was the point of making him come if he wasn't even going to speak? Saying 'Derek, I'm going to kill you' would give him more relief than saying nothing at all.

He found himself being led downstairs to the basement, and even though this should've given him a sense of comfort because they usually hung out here anyway, there was something eerie about Sam's actions at that moment. I was just joking about Sam killing me! He could feel his displeasure slowly fading and being replaced by curiosity and anxiety. Actually, he didn't know what to feel anymore; everything was just so mixed up in his system.

Sam disappeared into the dim-lit room as he racked his brain back into reality. He slowly followed suit anyway, treading down the stairs and into the entertainment room.

He had just entered completely inside the room when he felt a hard blow on his head. It caught him off guard and knocked him off-balance, sending him almost tumbling over the middle couch. He was still in the middle of gathering his thoughts and assessing the situation, holding his aching head with one hand, when he received another smack on the back of his head. Grunting in confusion and irritation, he turned around to see Sam holding a pillow with one hand, face serious but taunting.

"Dude!" He threw his hands up and shouted, shooting his friend a dark, menacing glare.

But Sam wasn't alarmed by his brewing anger, in fact, this had signaled him to send another heavy, fast blow at Derek's direction. And another. And another. And another, hitting him on the head, on his sides, in his face, and wherever the pillow delighted to land. And even though, Derek could now use his strength to be in the offense, he could not bring himself to do anything but merely defend himself by trying to block the blows with his arms.

"Hey!"

And another.

"What is wrong with you, man!"

And another.

"Knock it out!"

And another.

"STOP IT!"

Screaming with much rage and animosity, Derek curled both hands into a tight fist and sent desperate lightning fast blows on the pillow, which Sam quickly let go and released to fall on the floor. Still feeling a sudden rush of adrenaline from the hits he received and the anger that boiled inside his body, he impetuously grabbed the pillow and repeatedly slammed it on the couch until the stitches burst and the stuffing spilled and flew everywhere, reaching as high as the basement ceiling and littering the floor. Turning around and seeing Sam's eyes widening, he dashed to where he was standing, grabbed hold of his shirt, and aimed his shaking fist at him. He was panting heavily, his eyes filled with ferocity. This was the very outlet that he needed to release all of the pain and the hurt he was feeling. He knew he had to do this; his friend deserved to pay for what he had done to him. No one messes with me and gets away with it! He looked at Sam straight in the eye with much hatred and fury.

Then all of a sudden, he put his hand down and released his hold on his friend's shirt. Feeling the intense energy leaving his veins, he felt himself shrinking, sinking, going down. He moved inches farther away from Sam and let his hands rest on the wall to support his weight. His vision was becoming a little hazy. Turning around and letting his back lean against wall, he slid down and sat on the floor, shutting his eyes and covering them with the edge of his palms.

"Let it out," Sam encouraged, moving to his direction and sitting on the floor beside him. "I don't understand why you're trying to push Casey away."

Derek shivered at the mention of her name. So, this was the reason for this entire thing. He couldn't help but be somehow curious as to how he knew about their situation. There was no way on earth Casey would come to Sam to divulge this whole drama. But there were just too much things in his head that he really didn't want to add another one to his ever spilling soup of thoughts and emotions. Ever since he let himself feel, it had brought him nothing but fiasco. Stupid feelings, stupid emotions, stupid love, stupid Matthew, stupid Casey!

"I'm not."

Sam reached out to the armchair near him and grabbed another pillow, threatening to hit him again.

"Okay! Okay," Derek quickly exclaimed, rapidly lifting his hands in defense and covering his face. "Okay."

"You've done pretty lame things before, D. But this one takes the cake. Are you playing dumb?" Sam threw the pillow back on the chair before facing him.

"You don't understand," Derek sighed, looking up at the ceiling and leaning his head against the wall.

"Oh, I really don't understand. I don't understand why you're letting her run away with someone else when we all know you have feelings for her," Sam followed, resting his own head against the hard surface, bending and bringing his knees close enough to rest his elbows on them.

"That's not true."

It was Sam's turn to let out a sigh. Being Derek's best friend and closest, most trusted confidant, wasn't always an easy task; to be more precise, it wasn't always easy to make him own up to what was already obviously laid out. Sometimes, he just wanted to whack him straight out with something harder, like a rock, or his own head – seeing as it's as hard as a tortoise shell.

"Do you still not understand that I'm ready to hit you all day with as many pillows as it takes to get the truth to come out of you?"

Derek didn't respond. And here he was thinking that silence was the vilest abstract noun in all of English language, and yet he was seeking comfort in it. He was hiding in the deep creases of its solitude, hoping to have a fortress for the sensitive feelings that he was currently possessing. He secretly wished that he could bury them all again and forget all of this ever happened. But he was in too deep, too consumed, too vulnerable.

"D, what's going on? What's keeping you?" Sam shifted from his position so that he could face him.

He was unsure; he really did not know how to answer this question properly. It wasn't as simple as playing hockey or pranking Casey. Casey. He let his head fall on his open palms and released a gust of air. Shutting his eyes tightly and opening them again, he felt his heartbeat pace quicken. Casey. It was a good kind of thumping at first, but it quickly changed to worrisome tugging.

"Derek."

He lifted his head and stared into oblivion as he forced his thoughts together to form some sort of an explanation for what he was currently feeling.

"I'm scared, Sam."

"Of what?"

"Everything," he mumbled under his breath. "You know how hard it is to keep this for years? I have never felt this way before. Ever." His lips curved into a half smile, which quickly faded as he took in a deep breath.

"I'm scared of what it will do to me if I listened to it," he continued, staring at the 'stuffing' mess he created earlier. "I'm scared of what it will do to her. I don't want to hurt her in the end when everything falls apart."

"When everything falls apart?" Sam cast him a questioning look, not entirely sure if he heard him correctly.

"What if we ended up like my parents?" Derek responded, turning his head to reciprocate his friend's look, but then quickly directed his stare back to the pile of mess. "Besides, the family will never approve of us. I'd rather see her with someone else. She'll be safer."

"But you are losing her, man. You're giving her to someone else. That's stupid," Sam shook his head and crossed his arms.

"What else do you expect? I am stupid," Derek reached for the small bundle of fiber stuffing near his ankle and flicked it in the air.

"You're making her hate you," Sam quickly caught hold of it falling mid-air and cast it aside.

"Maybe that's the best thing to happen," Derek replied listlessly, shrugging with eyes focused elsewhere.

"You're hurting her even more and making her cry."

"It's just temporary. She'll get over it."

"So, you're letting her cry?"

"As long as I don't see it."

"That's sadistic."

"It's not."

Sam sighed, almost ready to throw in the towel. He thought of how unusually stubborn his best friend had been lately and how Derek was really capable of such a degree of stubbornness anyway. He knew what he meant when he said that he was keeping this whole thing for years. And to his estimation, probably longer than what Derek would be comfortable in confessing – not that he was confessing comfortably. He knew, that even when he and Casey were still dating, there was something fishy going on with his friend. Not that he figured it out right there and then – he is still a guy and he doesn't have girl intuition – but it became pretty obvious later on. Male code. Who was he kidding? He was quite sure it wasn't him and their friendship that he was trying to protect.

"You're letting her choose the man she doesn't even love, denying her of happiness. That's just harsh."

"I am not! I am giving her her happiness by keeping her from being hurt by me," Derek raised his voice; he was now facing Sam entirely, annoyance starting to be drawn again on his features.

"You're keeping her from being hurt, or you're keeping yourself from being hurt? That's selfish," Sam continued, nodding his head and raising his eyebrows.

"I'm selfish? I'm protecting her from me! I can be with her right now if I want to, but I'm not doing that because..." Derek stopped mid-sentence, trying to find the right words to express himself, "... she is... different... and... special!"

"You're doing a pretty poor job protecting her seeing as you are the one breaking her heart," Sam calmly stated as he shrugged his shoulders and pushed himself up to a standing position.

Thoroughly frustrated at their exchange of words, Derek also stood up hastily and confronted him, "What do you know! Have you ever even loved like this before!"

"So, you do love her," Sam raised his eyebrows and tilted his head forward, his lips beginning to form a teasing smirk.

Derek could feel his face heating up, especially his cheeks. His mouth was slightly gaped, and his entire body frozen for a few seconds. Crap. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. He probably killed himself mentally three times, or ten, for being a blabbermouth. But what else could he do? Sam knew it anyway; he needed not tell him anymore. But stupid. Stupid. Stupid. He couldn't help but just stare at Sam with widened eyes.

Sam only rolled his eyes at his friend's mini-panic attack and chuckled, which made Derek scowl at him.

"You do," he reiterated, now with a more serious look on his face, "love her."

Derek returned his coming-to-a-conclusion with another silence, but this time, he added a slow nod while looking to the side.

"D, love her right. You know what will make her happy," Sam advised, patting him on the shoulders then moving to the scene of the 'pillow crime' to cleanup.

Derek let out another heavy sigh, but this time his features lightened up. He found himself shaking his head while rolling his eyes as he smiled. Sam was pretty insane to do this just to make everything come out in the open. But he realized even more how good of a friend he was. But next time he does this, I will annihilate him. He shot Sam a glaring look, which was left unnoticed, as he moved to the recliner adjacent the couch his friend was cleaning up.

"But pillow-hitting, really?" Derek adjusted the chair to the reclining position, crossing his arms after.

"Hey, don't blame me. I'm only following orders," Sam raised both his hands up. "What do you know, it works! Now, help me clean up."

To which Derek replied with a seemingly never-ending, deafening laughter, "Riiight."

Although, really in the back of his head, he was itching to know who put him into this kind of trouble.

A/N: What do you think? I added a little humor because the last chapter was heavy. :D I also chose not to reveal much of Casey's thoughts about Derek, although hopefully her delusions showed what was going on inside her. Hopefully, it turned okay. Haha! Just wanna take this opportunity to thank my fellow Dasey shippers and readers who take the time to read and also review!

Back story for Wuthering Heights (spoiler?) - It was Catherine Earnshaw who said those words; and although they were beautifully composed, they were kind of just a 'there you go, you happy now?' description of her fiancé, Edgar Linton, because Nelly, the caretaker/maid (?), was forcing her to describe how she loves him. But thing is, Catherine loves another man (Heathcliff). So, hopefully it makes more sense now when it ties up with Casey and Derek's sitch! Although, I couldn't help but use it in the previous chapter for Derek's thoughts 'cause this line is just so darn beautiful! And my comment = Casey's comment. ;(

Special shoutout to the following:

Dark-Supernatural-Angel - Seriously want to thank you for remembering the story and being my constant reviewer! Not sure if you had to read it all over again, but lovin' your comment referencing the last chapter!

Jess - Thank you! Finally relieved to have used the Shark/Fisherman metaphor. Hopefully, I did it justice. Ahah!

ZenNoMai - Aww! Hopefully, I made it up to you with this faster update! :)

CrystalFlowers - Thank you! I would have to say, me too! LOL, complicated stories are awesome.

Chanii3220 - Oh, gosh. :( I knew others would have to do that, too. Yikes, but thank you for taking the time to re-read everything! Means a lot to know that it was still worth reading over. :) I will try, I will try! I promise!

Please review if you have the time! ;) Much hearts.