A/N – so this story has been a work in progress for quite some time, and the ending is still an on-going project which should hopefully be complete soon so that I can continue on with Schwahn Hall. To all my lovely readers who are waiting for the next chapter of that story, it is half-way there, but I've had a million other things on my mind plus I've been out of the country for two weeks.

Anyway, this begins at the end of episode 5 of season 4, linking with episode 6 then goes off on a slight tangent, and it is possibly a four or five chapter story depending on the ending. As always I do not own OTH or any of the characters, and I appreciate any and all feedback xx

Beautiful Nightmare

"Police, hands up!" echoed across the empty street, the blue lights of the cruiser flashed repetitively, and for the second time this year Peyton had a gun pointed at her as she emerged through her smashed front door. She felt her heart rate fly through the ceiling as she counted four guns, but this time they belonged to the 'good' guys, and she instinctively raised her hands.

"It's alright, I live here," she responded in a shaky voice, stepping carefully down the porch steps and wincing slightly with every movement. "He's right out here," she eventually continued, pointing towards a section of grass off to one side that was currently in the shadows.

The beams of their torches followed her movements, and they slowly flickered across the grass in the direction of her pointed finger. The shards of glass and wood, which were all once part of her bedroom window, glittered under the illumination of the torches as they slid rhythmically across the grass.

"Where?" one of the officers questioned, when the only other thing that came into view were various photographs that had been pasted onto her bedroom walls, but had fluttered out of the open window. Peyton stepped towards the wreckage, and she could feel her legs begin to shake. 'Was it possible that he could have survived that fall?' she wondered, glancing up towards the hole in her house, and she turned away from the carnage, instantly falling into Lucas' arms. Burying her face into the space where his shoulder met with his neck, Peyton felt the fear ripping through her chest causing her whole body to shake as she clung onto Lucas' shirt as though it was a lifeline.

Wrapping his arms protectively around her waist, Lucas could feel the speed of her heart beat through the thin material of his shirt, and he pulled her slightly closer. The police officers swarmed into her house, taking photographic evidence of everything, and he could see their shadows flash through the open bedroom window, but all of his thoughts where on the broken girl in his arms. The shaking had subsided, but she had yet to make any other movements away from him. Glancing down, gently running his fingers through her wild curly hair, Lucas could see the bright white skin of her knuckles as they gripped onto his shirt.

Off to one side he knew that her brother, the real one this time, was trying to explain to the officers what had happened. It was less than an hour ago when they where both at the police station, and by the looks of things that was where they were all heading again. Derek Sommers caught Lucas eye before lowering his gaze to the girl wrapped in his arms as he turned to follow the officer to the nearest car.

Dropping his head so his lips were right by her ear, Lucas whispered her name, trying desperately not to scare her. "Peyt... baby, we need to go down to the station to give our statements," he spoke gently, pulling her slightly closer when she flinched, so the term of endearment that left his lips failed to register. "I'll be with you every step of the way," he reassured her, and she finally lifted her head.

Their eyes connected for a split second, before Peyton dropped her gaze to the floor, and Lucas was shocked when he saw her dull green eyes staring back at him. The fire, which usually burnt so strong inside of her, seemed to have disappeared, and that scared him more than anything else. Wrapping his large hand around her delicate one, he gently led her towards the waiting car, he tried to not act surprised when she slid out of his reach to the furthest corner of the car, wrapping her arms around her chest and closing her eyes. He felt his heart crack watching her, wanting nothing more than to pull her back into his chest to protect her from the world, but he knew her defensive walls were back up, and no-one, not even him could bring them down this time.

Hours later Peyton was curled up in one of the hospital's plastic chairs waiting to be released, having been poked and prodded to within an inch of her life. After her statement at the station, when she spoke as few words as possible, they had decided to send her here to be checked over. Words like 'shock' were tossed across the room, and she could feel her jaw swelling, but she refused to have any painkillers. Flicking her tongue across her dry lips, she could taste the blood from her split lip, but she refused to react. Lucas had promised her that he would stay with her, but as soon as they reached the station they had been separated and she hadn't seen him since.

Staring at the genetic clock on the wall, she concentrated on the second hand as it slowly rotated, and after what felt like a lifetime to door eventually opened to reveal a stern looking doctor and a mousy haired nurse with a clipboard.

"Miss Sawyer," the doctor began, and she flicked her eyes in his direction before looking down to her knees that were pressed into her chest. "You can go home in a moment, as long as you promise to take your pain medication over the next couple of days, as it will help to reduce the swelling," he began, but Peyton zoned him out, only nodding in agreement when his tone of voice suggested he required an answer.

The mousy haired nurse placed a clipboard in front of her, for Peyton to sign, and she swirled an approximation of her signature onto the dotted line without looking, and the pen was immediately replaced with a small white paper bag.

Stepping out of the sterile hospital into the mid-day sun, she dropped the bag into the first trash can she could see, before sliding into the back of the first available taxi. Mumbling her address, she rested her head against the cool glass, and was thankful that the driver wasn't in a talkative mood.

The squeak of his brakes told her that she was home, and she asked the driver to wait for a moment whilst she went inside to get some money. Ignoring the boarded up side window of her front door, Peyton stepped foot into her hallway and was immediately bombarded with images from the previous night, but she closed her mind to the thoughts. Her bag could be seen peeping out from under the table, having been kicked out of the way by one of the many visitors to her house over the past twelve hours.

Dragging her purse and keys out, and ignoring that half a dozen other contents flew out at the same time, she dropped her bag back to the floor before walking out of her house again, slamming the door behind her on the way.

"Here," she mumbled to the driver, handing him a bunch of bills and dropping her gaze when he looked at her with concern.

"Miss..." he started, but she immediately cut him off, not wanting to hear what he had to say.

"Where is the nearest DIY store?" she questioned, shuffling her feet backwards, and nodding in acknowledgement as he gave her directions. Turning on her heel, she made her way towards her car, sliding into the red leather seat and screeching away from the curb.

Let me know what you think xx