a/n- Just saw 'Derek's School of Dating' and what the hell was I thinking? He loves Sally, how am I going to change that! I should have chosen an OC.

disclaimer: Not mine.

She misses high school.

Well, maybe not high-school per se. Because who wouldn't want to be away from the place where everybody knew your 'Top 10 Most Embarrassing Moments.' How many times you'd been dumped and the number of times you'd Klutzilla-ed.

She'd started from Klutzilla-nicknamed-by-Derek-Venturi, gone on as Derek Venturi's Grade-Grubbing-Keener stepsister, to Derek Venturi's stepsister, to just plain Casey McDonald (Derek's stepsister.)

(She never realized how much of her life had been linked with his, until after it all ended. Which is…cool. Because she needs to make a name for herself, right? And to be in a place where her Keener-quotient is appreciated. Not dissed.)

Here she's Casey McDonald, the totally together scholarship-winner, who'd most definitely go places. (Only because he hadn't been around to completely ruin her reputation. So he was totally doing her a favor.)

But…she was someone there. She'd been utterly neurotic and a total freak-out-zone. But she'd been…herself. They'd thought her crazy but they'd still loved her for it.

(She misses that.)

When Sally arrives, it's all different. And it's all the same.

She's still beautiful. Gut-wrenchingly beautiful. Still as sharp, and just as much oblivious. (-Fun Fact- Derek still loves her, not that she cares.) Within two days she has both her dorm mates eating out of her palms, and telling her secrets. (Because that was just the kind of person she was. Totally sweet, understanding, and everything. The fact that Derek liked her probably worked against her.)

He's around a lot too. Her other roommates have given up on trying to seduce him, and still haven't forgiven her for not telling them you're related to him. (She's not. Don't they fucking get it?)

"You know," Sally says to her one day as they're baking brownies, "I thought you and Derek hadn't changed at all. But I just realized something, you guys never dissent when I call you his sister now. It used to be all-'He's not my brother." "Sister? Puh-lease. Does it look like we share the same DNA? I wonder when that happened."

("You're the most annoying brother. "Step-brother." "Same difference.")

She doesn't say it. Irony can be so fucking ironic sometimes.

Sally's there at all his hockey games. She drags Casey, protesting, and says that he needs her moral support.

(He does? She'd have said the same…four months ago. That he needed her, even though he didn't realize it. After all who would fix him up when he got into stupid 'I'm The Man' Face-offs? But apparently, all this time he was perfectly capable of managing himself.)

But she goes. Just because (she's insane.)

And there are times when he looks up at them, and gives his by-now-trademark cocky grin. The thing is he's so far away that you can't tell whether it's meant for her or Sally.

(That isn't important. It's just an interesting observation on delusions of the neurotic mind. She's a Psych major, so she knows these things. It isn't the reason why she goes to his games or anything. Pfft.)

The sudden cheering in the stands probably means that they won.

Sally's shrieking next to her, and she tries to bring about the right kind of glow to her face. (Even if her heart had been in her mouth the entire time. The only purpose of the puck seemed to be to hit, when the players couldn't hit each other.)

They're at the locker rooms. "Derek!" Sally cries, and throws herself into his arms, "You were amazing!"

(It's like he's the exception to all rules, and she's the exception to all his rules. Whatever happened to no PDA?)

She turns away, her stomach plummeting down to her feet. (After all who'd want to have the image of their step-brother in that position?)

"Casey? Casey McDonald?" She turns to see one of the players addressing her. A definite 9 on the Emily-scale. She racked her head, "Richard?"

His grin widened at her recognition, "Yeah! What are you doing here?" Maybe he catches her expression, because he immediately amends it with a, "Sorry, that was a stupid question. But I really didn't think you liked hockey."

"Why wouldn't I?"

He pretended to think, "I don't know. Just a vague impression I got when you said it was the most uncivilized show of testosterone by Neanderthals whose primary aim in life was to exult in their brute strength by inflicting their manhood on a poor, defenceless object that sounded like a swear word."

She blushes, and for a moment she's in high school all over again. "Verbatim."

"I pay attention. So that's why I wondered. Or…maybe you're here for someone…?"

(The thing between then and now is that she can tell fake casualness. She's practically the mistress of it.)

He looks at something behind her and the smile slides off his face, "Derek," he acknowledges, resignation creeping into his voice.

She doesn't turn around, because she doesn't need to.

"Richard." He nods, stiffly.

Richard looks at them, "You're with him. I should have guessed. He has taste to match his hockey skills."

The thing that strikes her is: he's not saying anything. Her embarrassment quickly transforms into anger, because who the hell does he think he is? Why wasn't he clarifying? It's not like he needed her there, so she's damned if she's going to let him stand there claiming ownership. She smiles up at Richard, "I came here for a friend. I hate hockey. But she dragged me along." She gives him a you-know-how-it-is-shrug, and feels an almost vicious satisfaction when Derek stiffens behind her.

"Sorry man," Richard says ruefully, "But you usually spell Strike Out for the rest of us. Finally a girl who isn't interested in you! A Godsend!" He bows dramatically to her, and in a long time, she finds herself laughing. (Not at his words, because then she might just start crying.)

She's all-too-aware of him, and she doesn't know why. (Four months ago, she could have been on top of him, fighting for the remote, and she wouldn't have noticed. Maybe she's gotten un-used to it. It's all his fault.)

"See ya later, D. And Case," he stops, as if giving her time to consider his usage of her nickname, and when she doesn't say anything, continues in a lower tone "I know you hate hockey. But when you put aside their testosterone-filled need to assert themselves physically, the players aren't that bad."

And then he's gone. And she ignores the alarm bells clanging inside her head.

_ _ _ _ _

The car-ride-from-hell seems never-ending. Sally talks excitedly about the game, and she tries to understand. But the whiteness of his knuckles on the steering wheel, coupled with the thought of a definite confrontation gives her a migraine.

(She catches his eye in the rear-view mirror once. She doesn't look up again.)

_ _ _ _ _

(And isn't it so typical of her life that just when she needs Sally, she's not there.)

She doesn't look up from the book she's reading, but then she doesn't need to. Whenever he's in her gravity, she can tell.

"Does it happen often?" He says it so abruptly, she almost jumps.

"Does what happen often," she asks blankly.

"Funny." His voice couldn't be further from amused. She tries not to let her bewilderment show. "Like today. Do guys try to pick you up often?"

She can feel her mouth drop open, because this…this was so completely unexpected, it throws her off-balance. She'd expected a "Stay the hell away from my friends," not…this.

And oddly enough the need to giggle is the most important, but as his eyes narrow dangerously, she tries to hide her quivering lips.

"Not…half as often…as you'd... think." She manages, unsteadily. Because the idea of men thronging to seduce her makes it difficult not to laugh outright.

She looks up, and to her utter disbelief, he's actually angry. "Don't lie."

(Could somebody take her to the door out of this alternate universe?) "I fail to see how it's any of your business. What happened to Clause No. 49 McDonald-Venturi Treaty: No Interference in Private Matters?"

"I'm your brother, Casey; I've to look out for you."

("…the most annoying brother." "Step-brother." "Same difference.")

"Look out for Sally. I can manage on my own, very well, thank you."

He gives her a long warning look and slams the door on his way out.

(It's only later that she remembers he didn't use the most potent weapon he could have- Truman. She would, after all, never cheat.)

She had missed Derek

(Well, obviously not Derek.)

After all, who wouldn't want to be miles away from the person who ruined their lives in every which way possible, pranked them at every available opportunity, and insulted them almost gleefully.

But Derek had always brought out the most extreme in her personality. The good and the bad. When he wasn't there, she didn't feel as much. The colors were a little duller, and the light a little dimmer. The stark reality changed to vague impressions. All that was left was the afterglow. And it was hard to be less than she actually was, because she wasn't about the soft contours, she was fire.

With him, she been…she'd been.

She'd missed that.

Not really.

Kind of.

(Maybe.)