Disclaimer: Refer to chapter 1. It still stands, as I'm still holed up in a dorm room that's approximately four feet squared. With no heat.

A/N: Thanks so much for the feedback, guys, I really appreciate it. Keep on truckin'.

Chapter 2: Down On My Head

"Morning, P. Sawyer!"
Peyton groaned and buried her head underneath her pillows. "Go away, Brooke."
"Not a chance," her best friend crowed. Peyton could hear her records being searched through and finally opened her eyes, squinting at Brooke.
"It's way too early for you, you know that?"
"Have you forgotten already?" Brooke asked, putting a hand on her hip. "Tomorrow night is only the biggest party of the summer!"
The blonde-haired girl sighed and sat up, brushing a few curls out of her eyes. "Oh yeah."
"Judging from our correspondence over the summer, you, my friend, have done almost nothing for the past three months. But don't worry. That's all about to change."
She rolled her eyes. "Brooke, what are you doing here again?"
"Hello?!" Brooke exclaimed. "Were you listening to anything I just said? I can't set up for the party myself. I need some help. Get up!"
"Oh, no," Peyton said vehemently, flopping back down on her bed. "Go hire some other minion."
"Peyton," she whined. "Who else will help me?"
"Lucas," Peyton suggested suddenly, turning over to hide her smile. "Go ask him."
"You really think he'd help?
"Ask and find out. And in the meantime, please leave me alone."

Brooke tensed apprehensively as she raised her hand to knock on Lucas's door. In just a few months, everything had changed. Before she left for California, she would have waltzed in. After all, it had been her room. But now she'd moved out, he'd moved back in, and she had no idea where she stood.
Sighing, she rapped smartly on the door.
A few minutes later, it opened to reveal Lucas.
Correction: a shirtless Lucas.
She stared for a few seconds before she realized what she was doing.
"Hey," she started.
"Hey," he replied, scratching his head and looking at her in obvious confusion. "Did I miss something?"
"Lucas, I need you," she said, trying a different angle. "Peyton completely backed out on me, and tomorrow night is the beach party, and I can't set up for it by myself."
"Beach party?"
"Oh, come on! You know, the one I host at the end of every summer? This is our last one before we're seniors! Why doesn't anyone care?"
"Okay, okay, calm down," he said, holding up his hands in mock surrender. "I'll help you, Brooke."
"Really?" she asked, taken aback.
"Sure," he replied, chuckling. "What do I have to do?"
She stepped around him into his room and rifled through his drawers. "Cover yourself up, Broody," she said, tossing him a shirt. "We're going out."

The next morning, Lucas squinted at his alarm clock. 9:30.
He groaned. Brooke had ordered him to be up and dressed by 9, and when she realized he wasn't even out of bed yet—
His phone rang, and he knew it was Brooke without bothering to check the caller ID.
"Hey, Brooke, I—"
"Luke."
He heard her voice and all thoughts of apologizing flew out of his head.
"Brooke, what is it? What's wrong?"
"I'm sorry, I—" she stopped and paused for a minute. "I can't make it tonight, Luke."
"What do you mean, you can't make it tonight? This whole bonfire thing was your idea. You can't just back out."
"I'm really sorry," Brooke repeated, her voice shaking. "I have to go back to California for a little while. I'll talk to you later."
"Brooke—"
But he was cut off by the sound of the operator. He snapped his phone shut in frustration and rolled out of bed, slipping on some shoes and pulling on a shirt before grabbing his keys.

Three minutes later, he pulled up to Brooke's apartment. Her car was gone, but he ran to the front door anyway, banging on it until his fists were sore.
"Brooke!" he yelled, trying the knob. "Brooke, come on, open up!"
Groaning, he slumped down on the front step, shaking out his hands. He sighed and flipped open his phone, dialing Brooke's number before trying the only other person who would know where she was.
"Luke?"
"Peyton, where is she?"
"Look, I can't—"
"Peyton," he repeated, making sure she understood how serious he was. "Where's Brooke?"
"California."
"I know that," Lucas said sharply. "Peyton, if you don't—"
"Her parents died, Lucas."
He opened and closed his mouth a few times, his heart dropping somewhere past his stomach.
"I tried to get her to calm down before she left, but she was a mess," Peyton started.
"H—how?"
"Car accident."
He tried to register what she was telling him and failed miserably.
"How could she just…leave by herself like that?"
"You don't know Brooke like I do. When she gets upset—I mean really upset—she'd just…rather be alone. She has to work through this on her own."
"She can't just fly to California without going with somebody! Not when she's as upset as she sounded on the phone."
"Well, she did, Luke, and I don't know what you want me to tell you. Don't act like you're the only one that cares about Brooke, okay?"
He sighed. "I'm sorry. But she just left, and I can't help her…"
"You can't always save everybody, Luke."
After a few minutes, he hung up. He'd never felt so completely helpless.

Haley James-Scott pushed the sheet music away from her in frustration. All summer it had been like this. She'd found herself close to something—close to what she'd found on the tour. But then she realized it didn't really mean as much as she thought it would, and the moment passed.
She let her head rest on the desk in the guest room at Lucas's. After Nathan left for High Flyers, she had had no choice but to ask Karen and Lucas for a room. Her own parents were gone; the apartment was up for sale; and there was no way in hell she was even going to attempt to stay with the Scotts.
In a few minutes, she was slowly drifting to sleep when the door opened.
"Lucas?" she asked groggily. "What's up?"
"It's Brooke," he answered hoarsely. She slowly stood up, a sick feeling settling in the pit of her stomach.
"What are you talking about? Is she okay?"
He shook his head, and she wrapped her arms around him.
"It's her parents. They're…they're dead, Hales."
She gasped softly and hugged him tighter.

Later that night, Lucas was asleep on her bed. She carefully covered him with a blanket and sat down in her desk chair. He'd been quiet and desperate by turns, dialing almost every digit of Brooke's number before hanging up.
She hadn't seen Brooke since they'd come to New York to see her, and even then they hadn't spent much time together. But if the way Lucas had acted was any indication, her best friend was feeling more than friendly toward the raven-haired cheerleader. Not to mention the fact that Haley did like Brooke, in relatively small dosages. She knew Brooke had almost ruined her and Nathan (before she did it herself), but she had gotten to know Brooke better. She came across as…well, a bimbo, but Haley knew there was more there.
Haley looked at her own phone and considered calling Brooke, but quickly decided against it. She was going through enough already; she didn't need random teenaged wives-turned-singers calling her at all hours of the night.
Curling up as comfortably as she could, Haley James-Scott drifted off to sleep, hoping, as she had each night for the past three months, that the next day would be better than the last.