A/N: I told you I'd get it up by the end of the month! I can't really say that it's any good, exactly. You all completely overwhelmed me with your reviews! Seriously, that's a lot to try and live up too! I just hope I didn't give false hope!

Thank you so much for all of your reviews. You have no idea how much it means to me to hear what you all thought. I hope to hear from you again, even if it is to say how awful this was. That said, as it is far too late, and I am quickly succumbing to the influence of sleeping pills, I'll leave it at that.

Enjoy!

Emily

Disclaimer: What do I own? Absolutely nothing! I also do not own Hey Mr. Producer!

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In hindsight, it was possible that he held some of the blame for what happened that cold and dreary December day of 2012. Perhaps, had he cared to consider the incident more thoroughly, he would have found it to be not so irrational, not so terrifying as his recollections held it to be. He might have even found it to be amusing years later. There was hope yet that such would occur, but, five years later, the memory would still hit him full force, and he would shudder, and he would mutter a silent prayer of thanks that he was still alive and well.

It was a little overdramatic, really, but just as she didn't realize how terrible she had been, he didn't realize the scope of his overreactions.

Derek Venturi had always prided himself upon being a manly man. He didn't scream at bugs, snakes, and with the exception of certain rodents, generally laughed in the face of creepy creatures. He always considered Casey to be a girly girl. With the exception of certain rodents, he expected her to jump into his very manly arms at the sight of a creepy little animal, and to act weak.

Mind you, this idea was often ruminated up whilst under the influence of some alcohol, or sickness, which accounted for the delusional aspect of it all.

Derek actually seemed to think a lot of stupid things while under the influence of some alcoholic beverage.

Like the Massacre of 2012, a day that, in his mind, would live in infamy.

The twentieth of December 2012 was a cold and miserable day, a reflection, undoubtedly, of the horror that was soon to come.

"Derek! You force me to come with you to this damn party, and now, we're running late!"

Derek Venturi rolled his eyes as the voice rang through the home. "Pregnant, pregnancy hormones," he muttered under his breath, repeating the words in a mantra. He wondered how much longer these things would last. It was their first Christmas together as a married couple, and they couldn't even have a normal one, with a happy, loving Casey and a very satisfied (and loving) Derek. No, because there was a third party involved here. A small he/she (Casey had bluntly refused to hear what she was having) that was wreaking havoc on Casey.

Now, it wasn't the fact that the baby had started to change Casey's body. At five months, she was showing, yes, but Derek still thought she looked damned good. Of course, he knew that he was supposed to think that she looked sexier than ever pregnant, but he just couldn't bring himself to really think that. He wondered idly if he was an awful person for thinking that. He eventually decided that the answer to that question was yes. Ah well, he figured, nothing he could really do about that.

"Der-ek!" she shouted again. He hurried up; she wasn't happy about going to this party in the first place. The party in question was a holiday party being thrown by one of the guys on his team. He had told Casey that other wives were going to be there. What he had failed to mention was that all the guys with families, kids and the like, were going to be skipping, to spend some family time together. They had said something about going previous years, and how it was always the same. Then, Derek could have sworn some of the younger guys that were going had snickered, and the older ones that weren't had looked at Derek in sympathy.

Okay, so Derek's agreeing to go might possibly have had something to do with the fact that they had just won a game, and were celebrating in the best way a man knows how: with copious amounts of alcohol, and without any wives.

This little fact Derek had wisely kept from his wife.

"All right, Casey, I'm comin'," he yelled down, reaching for his heavy leather jacket and shrugging it on. He went down to find his wife glaring at him, lovely mouth pursed in agitation, her hands on her hips in a posture that he knew and hated.

"Can we go now?" was all she said, although her tone spoke volumes about her present state of mind.

"Of course, babe," he said, drawing her close to him and pecking her on the lips, hoping that his actions would calm her somewhat. Evidently, they didn't, as she still had the same scowl on her face. Derek sighed; he'd figured it was worth a try.

"Derek, are you sure you really need me to go? It's cold, I'm tired, and your child is not staying still," she whined as they walked out of the home. Derek paused for a moment, considering what she said. If not for what she said next, he might have let her stay. However, when she said, "Sheldon could watch out for me; he said something about getting that Hey Mr. Producer! DVD recording that I've been wanting to see."

"No." If she thought he was going to leave her alone with Sheldon Schlepper, she was horribly mistaken. Derek was pretty sure that Schlepper was still in love with Casey, and, while Derek couldn't really blame the guy for feeling that way, he sure as hell wasn't going to aggravate those feelings.

Casey, as it was, let out a sigh of frustration, but allowed her husband to open the car door, reluctantly buckling herself in. As the car started, Derek's customary rock station came on. Immediately, Casey switched it to a local classical station. Derek started to protest, but one look from his wife efficiently shut him up.

"Derek," she whined, "it's not too late to drop me off at Sheldon's. I've really been wanting to see that recording…"

"We can rent it."

"But I want to see it with somebody."

Derek sighed. "Fine, if you come to this party, I will sit through your video of people singing and dancing to musicals. All right?" He wouldn't really, of course, but Casey seemed to buy it, and for the remainder of the ride, seemed somewhat pleasant and happy.

Derek should have known it was a bad idea the moment they entered the house. In fact, really, the moment he pulled onto the curb, nestling himself in between two flashy cars, one of which had suspiciously steamy windows, the other some sort of smoke billowing out, he should have known that he should get as far away as possible. Casey of course noticed this, and as fast as it came, her good mood disappeared, and once again, she scowled.

There were far more people than he had expected, and far less clothing on the women. Were he to guess, he'd say it was something more akin to the parties he'd attended in high school than a gathering of professional athletes. Yet, in Derek, as with all men, there is that primitive side that enjoys getting completely drunk, being fawned over by women who are a hop skip and a jump away from being whores, and generally acting like a group of mindless morons.

When the couple walked in, Derek was immediately bombarded with offers of various types of alcohol, and various types of amusement, offered by some dubious looking women.

"Derek," Casey called above the noise, "I don't think I want to be here at all." She was worried now; this was not something that looked like the good clean fun Derek had described before.

"Case, I'm sure there's a good explanation for all of this," he answered, stealing a glass of something off of a platter. Before he could drown the glass, a small hand grabbed his arm.

"Derek, if you think for one minute that I am going to allow you to get drunk while I'm stuck here sober, you have another thing coming," she hissed. He shrugged, but put down the glass, looking around for the host (if one could apply such a name to the guy hosting the party).

"Venturi and Mrs. Venturi," a man slurred, stumbling up to them, a scantily clad woman draped around him in a way eerily similar to ornaments on a tree.

"It's good to see you Mr. Jomes," Casey said wearily, reluctantly offering him her hand. Laughing, he leaned down, presumably attempting to kiss her hand, but in truth, just slobbering all over it.

"'s good to see you, sweetie," the man said, laughing. Turning to Derek, he laughed. "Brought the wife, didcha? 'S all good, though. She can talk wi' the other ladies."

Laughing again, the man moved away. Casey looked at Derek, her eyes eerily darkened.

"See babe? He said there are other ladies," Derek said, trying to lure his wife into a better mood. Truth be told, he was a bit excited about this party. Not about the women that were present, of course. Despite all of her many quirks, he loved Casey, and he'd be damned if he ruined that for a half drunk slut. No, it was the unbridled manliness of it all that reminded him of his life in high school. He felt a pang of remembrance overwhelm him, and he sighed.

"Derek, if by 'other ladies,' he means the type that he had hanging all over him, I think I'll pass," Casey said, her arms now crossed in a position Derek recognized as "I'm not pleased, nor am I amused."

"Case, let's just stay for half an hour. I promise, if it doesn't get better, we'll leave. But we need to stay just a little bit. It would be rude if we didn't. Besides," he added with a smile, "you said that the minimum one needed to stay at a party was one hour."

"When did I say that?"

"At Emily's wine and cheese party a few months back. You know, that incredibly boring one, where the highlight of the night was when Schlepper got slightly wasted and broke into Les Miserables."

"Oh yeah. And that wasn't a boring party! It was very nice, actually. And Sheldon was not wasted. He was simply…happy."

"Yes, because when straight men are happy, they sing Les Miserables. Although come to think of it, Schlepper…"

"Derek," Casey warned. Derek figured that this would be a good time to maneuver his way through the crowd and away from his wife.

When Derek had told Casey he wouldn't drink, he hadn't actually been lying. Much. He had only intended on drinking one or two beers. However, it was proper etiquette to try what the host offered you, wasn't it? So, when the host offered him some strange drink, would it not have been rude to refuse it? Certainly, he couldn't do so.

Never mind the fact that the host was probably too drunk to really take offence. That was his excuse for getting drunk, and hell if he wasn't going to defend it to the grave.

Sadly, the host wanted him to try lots of things. As a result, when Casey found her husband, he wasn't as steady as she would have liked.

It happened that he was with a group of guys when she came over. One of the guys nudged Derek, saying, "Hey, I'd like to get a piece of that, man."

"Who wouldn't?" Derek said back. He whistled at her. "Hey baby," he leered, looking at the other guys who were looking on in silent encouragement. "Want t' find some room, babe," he finished. The guys cheered. Casey glared.

"Derek…"

"Oh, come here babe. You know how that dress makes me feel," Derek said.

"Derek, stop it," she warned.

Instead of stopping it, as a smart man would, Derek did something else, something that was incredibly stupid, as he would later realize.

Derek leaned over and smacked her lightly on the rear, nodding and winking at his buddies as he did so.

"Derek, I'm leaving," Casey said, her voice icy. She came over to him and fished the keys from his pocket.

"Wait! We only have one car," he exclaimed, trying unsuccessfully to grab the keys from her.

"I don't care."

"Casey, wait!" He tried to go after her, stumbling a few times as he got up. However, she quickly slid through the crowd. Derek had to admire her grace in slipping around every body.

Pregnant women could be dexterous. Who knew?

He finally caught up to her at the door. "Come on, Casey, just a minute, and I'll come with you. I just have to say goodbye…"

This was an extraordinarily stupid thing to say, as it obviously implied that he was not coming right away, and that he found saying goodbye to drunks who didn't know their heads from their asses more important than comforting his wife. Or so Casey thought as she stormed out the door, turned on the car, and took off into the cold night, leaving Derek standing helplessly behind.

Sighing, he turned around, fully intending on immediately saying goodbye and calling a cab. As it turned out, saying goodbye took a lot longer when everyone else was drunk, and you yourself are semi drunk. Finally, after an hour and a half, he arrived home to find his precious car parked haphazardly in the driveway, lights still on.

He quickly found the car unlocked, and turned off his lights, before walking into the garage, and entering his house. Once inside, he could not see his wife. Upstairs, however, he heard pounding.

Now, the way Derek figured it, there were levels of Casey Anger. There was the

"Der-ek!" Level, which was the mildest and most common. This usually occurred when Derek did something stupid and acted like he didn't care. He got this an average of two times a week.

The second level was the "Frowny" level (as Derek described it). Here, she would get all silent and moody, and start stomping around the house. This was slightly more severe, lasting a bit longer. However, she would soon forgive him within an hour or two.

Third, and far less common, was the "Grrrr" level. This was a variation of the "Frowny" level, but to a much greater extent. She would look at him as though she wanted to kill him, would stomp around even harder, growling at anything that crossed her path, and clenching her fists a lot in anger. At this level, Derek found it wise to keep clear of her, and would do so for sever hours, as it often lasted a good while.

The final stage was what Derek termed the "GET OUT!" level. This level actually had several stages. It would start with the "Grrr" level, stage one, often manifesting itself through the silent treatment. However, it would suddenly morph into the murderous stage. In this stage, Casey would start to scream at Derek, usually using the phrases "GET OUT OF MY HOUSE!" and "I WANT A DIVORCE!" several times. She never meant it, Derek now knew, but the first time this had happened, it had scared the shit out of him. It still did, too. This could last anywhere from a few hours to a few days. In their married life, it had happened about three times, each of which the cause was Derek's behavior.

As Derek heard her thumping around upstairs, he knew instinctively that she was in the "GET OUT" level of anger. With a deep breath, he braved the climb upstairs. He didn't get far, however, as Casey suddenly appeared, standing at the top, looking down at him, her arms crossed and her eyes blazing.

"Get. Out. Of. My. House." She said this slowly, pronouncing every word slowly and carefully.

"Casey, I…"

"You what? You got 'caught up?' You had to finish 'saying goodbye?'"

"I…I…"

"Damn it, Derek, what were you thinking? How could you get drunk, and leave me to those…animals?"

"Hey," he weakly protested. She chose to ignore him.

"I mean, Derek, I could have been assaulted, or hurt, or, or raped by those brutes! They were all so drunk! And if I had, you wouldn't have been able to help me because you were too busy getting drunk on your own! You wouldn't even know what happened…"

"Casey, I think you're being a little over dramatic here. I doubt that you were in danger of being raped."

This was, apparently, the wrong thing to say.

"Oh really, now. And why is that? Is it because I'm pregnant and ugly? Huh, Derek? Am I not pretty enough for all your drunken little friends? Well, I'll have you know that I will NOT be treated this way! There were plenty of men looking at me, pregnant or not. I'm sorry that you think I'm a ugly old maid…"

"Case, that's not what I meant!" She was coming down the stairs, slowly advancing towards him. Now he was officially terrified.

"Well, then, what did you mean? I'd really like to know."

"I, uh, I…"

"What, Derek, whore got your tongue?"

"Casey, you are being ridiculous! I love you, and you were the hottest thing at the party! I only mean that there were girls who were willing and…oh, shit…"

By the landing, there was a large table, upon which sat Casey's porcelein Christmas village. It consisted of a group of old fashioned small town buildings, and a large number of little figures that depicted people going about their lives, merrily and aware of the impending Christmas. The poor village, ignorant as it was to the outside world, and all that populated the wicked world around them, they never saw it coming, How could they, these innocents, collected one by one, living their lives in a box save for a few weeks every year. How could they know?

Well, they certainly knew after that night,

There were two things that Derek learned about Casey that he never expected that night: one, Casey was a good shot, and two, Casey had a mean throw.

With a frustrated scream, she picked up a townsperson, and hurled it with deadly accuracy at Derek's head. He ducked, barely avoiding the object. But Casey was not done. The townspeople hovered in fear as a large hand picked them up randomly, throwing it with all her might at her cowering husband.

"Take THAT, you sonofabitch!" There went the little old man holding a fish. "And that, you good for nothing…" Goodbye, two old ladies linking arms. One by one, the citizens of the picturesque little village died, colliding with walls, the floor, or, in some cases, Derek's body and head.

When it was all over, ten little townspeople had fallen victim to Casey's rage. The victims ranged from a young boy, waiting under a lamppost to an old married couple, their last moments forever frozen in peaceful companionship.

Casey, now sufficiently calmer, looked at the scene in horror.

"Oh, God!" she exclaimed, no longer calm. She knelt down, picking up shattered pieces of her precious village people, her lip quivering. Quickly, Derek knelt down beside her, ever careful not to let the blood from the cuts on his head drip on his wife.

"Derek, what did I do? Oh, god…" she cried, leaning into her husband. "I don't know what happened! I just got so angry at you, and they were there, and…"

It suddenly occurred to Derek that she wasn't speaking about the fact that she might very possibly have given him a concussion. No, she was crying over the little figurines. He thought about saying something, but, as she was now curled up in his arms, holding onto him, he figured there were certain things best left unsaid.

"I know, babe, I know," he murmured.

"Why do you put up with me," she asked, sniffling a bit.

Thinking it safe to finally crack a joke, he took a risk: "few too many collisions with a hockey puck," he said. She laughed, much to his relief. He hated to see Casey like this: despite her irrationality as a teenager, she had grown into a wonderful woman, and to see her regress into her teenaged moods scared him. He was perpetually afraid that one day, she wouldn't snap out of it. When that happened, he'd be screwed: teenage!mooded Casey hated Derek of any age.

Well, never mind that, he thought. What mattered now was that he actually felt really bad (yet another surprise for that night!) about everything.

The next morning, Casey seemed back to normal, chattering away as normal, talking about where she could find some more townspeople, and, much to Derek's dismay, mentioning that Sheldon was going to drop that DVD by their house, so they could watch it that night.

Derek felt bad about the night before, but not bad enough to watch that thing.

He didn't say this. It was, he figured, probably a good idea. It was also a good idea, he thought, not to put up that sign in front of the house that he had made up the night before, after the Massacre.

Still, now, in the depths of his closet, there now sits a sign that still holds true to this day:

Massacre of 2012: An event that will live in infamy.

A/N: I hope you enjoyed this! As for Casey's characterization, well, as me about it in a review if you want to comment on it, all right? That of course means that I would like a review. Yeah, I am shameless. I'm fully aware of this.

Emily

A QUICK NOTE TO READER OF TO HAVE AND TO HOLD:

I apologize for the lack of review. Sadly, the story is complicated to write, and it does take a back seat to school and riding. There should be a new chapter up in the next two weeks. If not, chances are, it might be another month, as I will be away every weekend starting in two weekends. Not to mention a lot of schoolwork. I apologize for the wait, I really do.