Author's Note: Things are pretty much the same as they've been on the show. There are a few key changes that will be introduced throughout the story. Keep in mind that this story centers around Brooke Davis. Thanks for reading!

Brooke Davis unlocked the glass doors to her boutique and walked into the empty store, neglecting to flip the switch on. Her iPhone remained glued to her ear, her shoulder supporting the weight of it as she stuffed her keys into the small clutch she carried. "Vegas? What?"

"We're getting married!" Peyton Sawyer screamed into the phone once more, sharing a breath-taking smile with the love of her life. Lucas Scott grinned from ear to ear with his fiancé nestled safely on his lap. They sat together at the airport terminal while waiting for their flight to board its passengers.

"Oh my God—P. Sawyer, that's… that's—I can't even find the words!" she exclaimed. Brooke discarded her belongings onto the countertop and retraced her steps back to the chaise lounge that sat in the center of her store. "When did this happen? What did Luke say? When did this happen?" she repeated once more, stumbling over the questions as she tried to piece the events of the night together.

"You know, I'm not sure what it was but… he called me and told me he had tickets for Las Vegas and then…," Peyton trailed off as the two bickered over the non-romantic proposal made over the phone. "Can you believe it, though?" her best friend asked once she returned on the line.

Brooke wrinkled her eyebrows, still unsure of how one phone call could bring her two friends together to run off and elope in the city of sin. The logical side of her wanted to talk sense into them. What about their family and friends who'd been there for the two of them from day one? Did they not deserve to be there to share in this momentous occasion? Wasn't Lucas just engaged two months ago to another woman he'd proclaimed to love til death parted them?

But Brooke would never voice her opinion. As the devoted best friend and ex-girlfriend, she understood her duty as cheerleader and support system for Leyton long before she had a choice. She smiled and laughed breathlessly into the phone. "I'm happy for you guys," she offered.

There was a slight pause on the other line before Peyton spoke. "Is everything all right, Brooke?"

She closed her eyes and inhaled a steep breath at the question. Was she all right? It seemed the question somehow found a way to rise from the ashes whenever Peyton and Lucas found their way back on the road to happily ever after. But this wasn't high school anymore. She wasn't the seventeen year old girl in love with her best friend's soul mate, right? She'd let go of that dream—that girl—a long time ago. "Everything's great, Peyt. Listen, you two have a safe flight, okay?" she said. "Try to keep the kink level down over there and… just… I'm happy for you, P. Sawyer, you know that?"

"I know," came the response as her best friend's voice softened at the admission. "I love you, Brooke—" she paused and laughed once more and added— "We love you, Brooke. We don't know how we would've gotten through the past couple of months without you. I mean that."

Tears threatened to spill from her eyes, but she managed to keep them in check with another shaky breath. There it was; another reminder of her place in their world. Always the third wheel, always the lonely soul left out in the cold. "I love you guys, too. Listen, I've gotta go, but I want all the details when you come home, you hear me?" She willed her voice to sound perky and upbeat, just the way everyone expected her. She didn't wait for a response as she pressed the end button on her phone. She exhaled the breath she'd been holding, shuddering along with the breaking of her heart.



Peyton stared at the phone in confusion, her facial expression displaying the thoughts on her mind. "Everything all right with Brooke?" Luke asked as he tucked a wayward strand of hair behind her ear.

She brought her attention back to him and hesitated before she answered. "She says everything is fine but…"

"..But?" Luke pushed when she didn't continue.

"I don't know," she answered, laying her phone down against her knee. "You know that tone that Brooke gets when she tries convincing people that she's okay?"

Luke nodded his head, too familiar with his ex-girlfriend's mannerisms. "You think something's up?"

Peyton genuinely thought the question over in her mind before she shook the idea off. "Maybe," she answered truthfully. "But you know Brooke Davis. If she doesn't want anyone to see her vulnerable side…"

"Then you're not going to see it," he finished knowingly. "She'll come around when she's ready, I guess," he answered. He offered his bride to be a dazzling smile as he pulled her closer to him. He closed his eyes and allowed himself to be happy for once. Finally, he'd gotten the girl of his dreams. Nothing could spoil the moment. He pushed back the feeling of history repeating itself and held on tightly to the woman in his arms. He'd made the right decision… right?

Brooke bit her lip in a last attempt to keep her tears at bay, but once she disconnected her call with Peyton, there was no stopping the emptiness that surrounded her and embodied her life. Haley and Nathan had each other and a beautiful baby boy to fill their lives with joy and pure happiness. Luke and Peyton finally got their acts together and were now taking the final step in cementing their future as a united front.

And here was Brooke Davis. Beautiful. Brilliant. Brave.

And alone.

The tears fell from her eyes in floods, and she did nothing to stop them from falling. Brooke bent over and hugged herself, pulling her body into the fetal position as she lay on the cushioned couch. She cried for the future she'd given up on years ago with Lucas Scott. She cried for the normalcy of life she'd forsaken in exchange for being a successful fashion designer. She cried for the unconditional love she'd never received as the daughter of Victoria Davis. She cried for the missing piece of her heart that stayed with baby Angie.

Brooke was so consumed and overwhelmed with her grief, pain and anger that she never heard the front door open. She didn't see the man slowly approach her until it was too late. When the floorboards creaked beneath his motorcycle boots, she looked up in time to catch the brunt of his fist, knocking her unconscious as she fell to the floor.



The insistent beeping did nothing to alleviate the migraine in her head. She tried opening her eyes for the first time in what seemed like forever, but that too seemed to be an impossible feat. Her throat felt as dry as sandpaper, causing her mouth to be as dry as the desert sand. Excruciating pain vibrated throughout her entire body, which made her wince once the feeling came back into her muscles. She groaned in pure frustration and agony. What was going on?

"Ms. Davis?"

She instinctively turned her head towards the direction of the voice. Her eyes squinted together as she tried once more to pry her eyes open. Failing miserably, she attempted to break apart chapped lips with her dry tongue, a task that remained unsuccessful as well.

Brooke was grateful when the man noticed her intentions and slipped a plastic straw in between her lips. She would've moaned in pure satisfaction, but the act of sipping required her full attention. Displaying her appreciation to this mystery man would have to wait.

"Slow down there, Ms. Davis. There's more where that came from," he spoke once more.

She ignored his comment and continued to sip greedily from the straw. The water washed her mouth completely, then fell like waterfalls down her raspy throat. Brooke stopped when there was no water left to drink and licked her lips with the remaining water that dripped from the straw. "Thank you," she spoke roughly, testing out her voice.

Her eyes finally opened, and she found herself in a hospital room. Her eyes closed into narrow slits on their own account, adjusting to the brightness of the room she occupied. Though she couldn't turn her head if she wanted to, she didn't need to look to her side to find the monitors that hooked up to her body, checking her vitals. The sounds of I Love Lucy blared in a distant room, along with conversations the nurses initiated as they walked past her door. She willed her eyes open once more to find the mystery man standing before her. "What happened?" she asked.

"I was hoping you could tell me that, Ms. Davis," he spoke once more. He walked towards the water pitcher by her bed and refilled it to the brim. "My name is Dean Winchester, and I'm a detective for the Tree Hill Police Department."

She watched in anticipation as he brought the water to her again. He held the cup inches from her face and led the plastic tube to her lips once more. She devoured the drink as he continued to speak. "Do you remember anything from last night?"

Knowing that she wasn't here for that long, Brooke exhaled as she gingerly shook her head from side to side. "I was at my store—"

"Clothes Over Bros?" Dean asked.

She nodded her head. "I was planning on getting some work done," she spoke, forcing the words to come out of her mouth. He gestured towards the water pitcher with a raise of an eyebrow, and she declined the offer with a shake of her head. "I was on the phone when I came in. I unlocked the door, put my purse on the counter and sat down on the chaise."



"Do you remember what happened next?" he asked patiently. Brooke brought her attention back to the man before her and studied him closely. He was a very good looking man with blue eyes and dirty blonde spiked hair. His face was chiseled and evenly proportioned with stubble lingering in a patch below his bottom lip. His features remained schooled and somewhat cold, as if he were here to do his job and nothing more.

Once she realized she was checking him out, she shook her head and brought her attention back to her hands clasped before her. That was when she noticed the bruises that covered her arms. She stared at the purple markings in horror, raising them for better inspection. Her hands flew to her face, and once she felt the markings of dry blood in different areas of her skin, the tears flooded her eyes in a heartbeat. She held it together as her hands roamed upwards, her once delicate fingers tracing the edges of the bandage that wrapped around her head. She raised horrified green eyes to his controlled blue ones. "What happened to me?" she whispered.

A flicker of emotion flashed into his eyes before the mask was back on. Detective Winchester took a step forward to explain to her the events of last night before they were interrupted by her new visitors.

"Brooke, we came as soon as we heard—" Nathan Scott exclaimed as he made his way into the room, his wife Haley James Scott hot on his heels. Brooke wasn't sure if he stopped midsentence due to his initial reaction to her beating or because of the fact that she wasn't alone. "Oh my God…" he said as he looked at his dear friend.

"Dean?" All eyes turned towards Haley as she stared at the detective who stood over her best friend's bed. "What are you doing here?" she asked, teetering on the verge of excitement over seeing him and pain over her best friend's condition.

"You two know each other?" Nathan found himself asking as he looked from one to the other.

"Haley James," the man in question answered. A corner of his mouth lifted in a smirk, seeing as a smile and giddy display was most certainly out of the question due to the circumstances. "I asked to be transferred back home."

"Home?" Brooke finally spoke up, exchanging glances between everyone in the room.

"Brooke, Nathan," Haley began. "This is Dean Winchester. My brother."