A/N: I deeply apologize for posting this so late. I revised this chapter A LOT before being satisfied with the turnout. Again, thank you all SO much for your kind reviews! It truly does inspire me (and ALL writers on , as well) to produce more chapters for you faster when we know we have people out there reading our stuff. So again, THANK YOU.
Also, I noticed that a fair amount of you are fans of the Brathan friendship. If by chance you're just a fan of Brathan--PERIOD, I strongly suggest you read the story The Game of Love, and it's sequel Her Perfect Family written by madeinoctober. The stories are phenomenal and well written. HPA also includes Dean as well, so read it if you're interested. Her stories can be found under my favorite author's: madeinoctober. Thanks again!
"Nah, I don't like it."
Haley groaned in frustration as she turned away from her brother. Beside her, Jamie hid a smile behind his fist, wiping it away completely when his uncle looked at him.
"What?" Dean asked, annoyance laced in his voice as he directed the question towards his baby sister.
She turned to look at him, truly amazed by his reaction to her impatience with him. "What?" she mimicked. "You can't be serious! This is the third apartment we've looked at this morning! What's wrong with this one?" Haley shrieked, her hands sitting comfortably on her hips.
Jamie volleyed his attention between the two siblings, the grin on his face widening by the minute.
"It's on the second floor," he finally declared.
Her eyebrows drew together in the shape of a v, her impatience quickly turning into agitation. "What?" she questioned him sternly through clenched teeth.
"What if there's a fire?" Dean asked seriously. "You're telling me I have to run down a flight of stairs to get to safety? How logical is that?"
"You're a cop, you idiot!" she scolded him, smacking the side of his arm. "If there was a fire, you're first instinct should be to help others before you help yourself." Haley stopped mid tirade, disgusted with herself for carrying on this conversation. "What am I saying—what's wrong with this apartment, Dean?" she repeated herself.
"It's ugly," Jamie answered for him.
"Jamie, not now."
"The kid's right!" Dean agreed as he nodded his head fervently, pointing at his nephew. "I mean, look at this dump," he spread his arms out wide and turned to survey the small living room they stood in. "It's crap."
"Language," the boy reminded his uncle.
"It's revolting," he corrected himself, never missing a beat. "Who would want to live here?"
"This is where Nathan and I lived after we got married," Haley replied instantly. "And when we were going through our problems, Brooke lived here with me." She shrugged her shoulders and shook her head. "So I don't see what's wrong with it."
"It's—"
"Jamie, zip it," Haley scolded her son.
Dean smirked apologetically at the kid and tried to find a suitable response to his sister's question. To be honest, there was nothing wrong with the place. It was a one-bedroom apartment with sufficient room for a bachelor like himself. The living room was spacious enough to fit two sofas and a dining room set. The kitchen was big enough to prepare meals for the small dinner parties he could throw. The balcony outside was a great place he could kick back after work with a cold bottle of beer. The apartment was damn near perfect.
But if he wanted to be honest with himself, it was nothing compared to Brooke's house.
The detective had a wraparound porch that overlooked the river with his current roommate. Her kitchen surely rivaled the likes of any other he'd seen. After all, she was notorious for the dinner parties she threw every Sunday night. It was her way of making sure everyone of her friends started off the workweek on a bright note, and it always worked. His room at her place was more inviting and comfortable, not to mention fully stocked with everything he could ever need. In the long run, her house felt like home.
"Dean!"
His sister's voice snapped him back to reality as he took in her angered expression. "I don't like it, Haley. It's as simple as that."
Jamie breathed a sigh of relief and tugged on his mother's hand. "Does that mean we can go now? I'm hungry."
Haley looked between her brother and son, refusing the urge to stomp her foot like a child. "Fine," she said. "I give up. From now on, if you want to go apartment hunting, don't ask me to come along," she told her brother, pointing a finger towards his face. "Because as of now? I'm done helping you."
She held her son's hand in her own and walked out of the apartment with Dean hot on her heels. "I don't know why you're so upset. Did I keep you from grading papers or something?" he asked nonchalantly as he followed her down the stairs. Haley tripped over her own foot, and Dean caught her arm in time to keep her from stumbling down the stairs. When she turned around to show gratitude, he raised his eyebrows at her and said, "See. I told you this whole second floor thing wouldn't work."
"Dean!" she screamed, finally fed up with him after the long morning they'd spent together.
"All right, okay," he attempted to soothe her nerves as they continued the walk towards his prized possession. His Chevy Impala sat beautifully in the parking lot, intimidating any and all cars that crossed its path. It attracted the attention of all who passed by her, appreciating the fine time, money and care he'd put into his baby.
Jamie looked up to his uncle and noticed the serene expression on Dean's face. He reached out and tugged on his fingertips, bringing the older man's attention to himself. "Look on the bright side Uncle Dean. If you can't find an apartment, you can always live in your car."
The comment brought a smirk to Dean's lips. He reached down and clasped the little boy's hand in his larger one, tugging him away from his amused sister. "Did I ever tell you you're my favorite nephew, kid?"
"I'm your only nephew," Jamie reminded him. Dean laughed as he opened the door on the passenger's side, ushering the boy inside. He stopped Haley from following by placing himself at the opening. His gaze softened as he took in the slightly annoyed look that seemed glued onto her angelic face.
"I'm sorry that I'm being so difficult," he apologized clumsily.
Her eyes widened at the words that tumbled out of his mouth. "Was that an apology, Dean Winchester?" Haley asked stunned.
Dean rolled his eyes and leaned an arm against the hood of his car. "Someone told me that I needed to mind my manners and start being a little more appreciative of the people around me," he shrugged.
Haley's eyebrows rose on their own accord. "Haven't I been telling you this all your life?" When he frowned at her, she corrected her earlier statement. "Okay, well—half your life. At least during the times when I actually saw that ugly mug of yours," she joked, moving to pinch his nose.
He quickly swatted her hand away and pointed a warning finger mid-air. "Don't touch my face."
"Like I'm scared of you," she replied, crossing her arms over one another. "Who's this mystery person that's taught you how to act like a decent human being?"
"That's not important. What's important is that I'm sorry for being such a pain in the—"
"Language," Jamie stressed from inside the car.
"Behind," Dean finished his sentence. "I'll look for a place by myself from now on."
"No," Haley shook her head slowly. She calmed herself down and looked her brother squarely in the eye. "No, you don't have to do that. It's just… God, do you even know what you're looking for?"
It wasn't meant to be a loaded question, but it couldn't be answered simply. What was Dean looking for? A place to stay? Some place else to make a home out of? He was sure he could make a living out of any apartment Tree Hill had to offer. He'd never been picky before moving back home and had even shared a dingy two-bedroom apartment on the outskirts of Brooklyn with his best friend back in New York City. He'd never been the type to fawn over tedious details, and the fact that he had such a hard time choosing a place to live spoke volumes.
If he was honest with himself, Dean could admit he wasn't ready to leave Brooke, plain and simple. It wasn't so much that he didn't think she could live on her own, what with her attacker still out on the lose. He'd miss the comfort of her company, no matter how eventful or silent it was. He'd grown to be dependent on having someone to come home to, regardless of the fact that the two were just friends. He'd had no problem being alone over the years, so the fact that he craved Brooke's presence day in and day out baffled him, rendering him speechless.
"I'm looking for a place to call home, baby sis," he answered smoothly, removing himself from the entrance into his vehicle. When she stood there patiently, regarding him under curious eyes, he shrugged. "Until I find a place that feels right, I'm not settling."
She continued to stare at him inquisitively, studying him as if he were one of her students and not her older brother. "Something's different about you, Dean. You're not the same brother who walked out of my life eight years ago—that's obvious. But… something's changed from the moment you came back and up until this very moment."
Dean stood there quietly, not wanting to say anything more while she psychoanalyzed him. He waited patiently for her to get in the car.
"You're not cold or distant as you were when I saw you at the hospital," Haley continued. "You're starting to mind your manners… you're polite," she snorted as she said the last part, earning a glare from her older brother. "Well, it's true. I'll ask again, what is it that's got you acting like a normal person?"
He shook his head again and cocked his head towards the open door of the Impala. "It's nothing, Haley. Maybe I'm just growing up."
"Maybe," she said finally after a pregnant pause at his words. Mirth danced behind her expressive eyes as she attempted to hide a smile. She walked past him and made her way into the car. "Or maybe I should be asking you who it is that's got you acting like a gentleman?" she teased before he groaned and slammed the door in her face.
"All right!" Jamie laughed and put his hand in the air, prompting his mother to give him a high-five.
"What was that for?"
"You've seen the light!" he exclaimed in a hurry before Dean could make his way to the driver's side of the car. "You're officially on Team Brooke for Uncle Dean. Maybe my mission won't be so impossible with your help!" he said excitedly, rubbing the palms of his hands together with anticipation.
She laughed at her son and said nothing when Dean entered the car and looked at her questioningly. "You Scott people are weird," he said before shifting the car into reverse. He shook his head when his comment caused nothing but more laughter from Jamie and his mother.
Brooke answered the door and smiled brightly at her best friend. "P. Sawyer," she greeted the blonde woman as she pulled her into a hug. "To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?"
"Well, how about the fact that I feel like I haven't seen you in forever?" Peyton said as she removed her light coat, placing it over the arm of the sofa. She followed Brooke into the kitchen and took a seat by the counter. "I miss my best friend, and I was hoping we could spend the day together before we head out to that birthday party."
She was referring to little Robby Andrews party by the rivercourt that day. Brooke shuffled around the kitchen, taking out a bottle of water from the fridge and offering it to her friend. "That sounds like a good idea. I wanted to pick up a couple of stuff at the mall if you want to tag along," she told her friend.
Peyton nodded her head and began to rise from her seat. "I'm good to go whenever you are."
"Let me just grab my purse," she said as she headed towards the staircase. It felt a bit awkward hanging out with Peyton after the many days that passed. Sure, they saw each other whenever the whole gang got together, but the two best friends had never been alone since the night of Brooke's attack. She was a little upset with her friend for more reasons than she could count, and she had a feeling the blonde girl knew something was up. Still, none of that mattered at the moment. Spending time with Peyton was exactly what she needed to get her mind off her new roommate.
It had been four long yet peaceful days since their intense conversation Tuesday night. The following morning, Dean had prepared a simple breakfast for the two of them, and they made polite conversation before parting ways to start off their respective plans for the day. And for the rest of the week, they carried on as if nothing had changed when in fact, everything had.
Brooke must've taken longer than expected when she heard Peyton tap softly on her bedroom door. "Everything all right?" she asked hesitantly.
The brunette nodded her head vigorously. "Yeah, I was just… trying to figure out what kind of basketball jersey I should pick up for the party."
Peyton didn't believe a word of it, and the look on her face told her just as much. "Before we head out, can we talk?" she asked quietly. Not bothering to wait for the okay, the blonde woman walked straight into Brooke's domain and made herself comfortable on her bed. "It's just, I feel like we haven't had any time to ourselves lately," she smiled sadly. Peyton reached out and placed a hand on Brooke's forearm. "I miss my best friend."
Brooke mimicked the curve of her lips and nodded her head, patting her friend's hand on her arm. "I know what you mean," she said plainly. "I've missed you, too P. Sawyer."
"Then why won't you talk to me?"
Her brow furrowed together as the question caught her off guard. "What are you talking about?"
"You know what I'm taking about, Brooke Davis," Peyton said gently but firmly. "You rarely take my calls anymore, and when I try to make plans for us to hang out, your either busy with everyone else or you flake out on me last minute. What's that all about?"
She sighed patiently and moved to take a seat beside her. When Peyton withdrew her hand, Brooke clumsily clasped her fingers together on her lap, staring at the knots they made when linked together. She wasn't sure how to answer that question. If anything, talking to Peyton should be the easiest thing in the world for her. They were best friends—sisters even. She'd never had a hard time baring her soul to the woman next to her. But how could Brooke tell her the real reason why she'd been keeping her distance? How could she explain to Peyton the anger she felt towards her without ruining their friendship?
"I know things have been different and difficult since Luke and I announced our engagement," Peyton began speaking again. "But I'm still here, and I'm still your best friend. You know you can come to me for anything," she reached out and placed a hand on Brooke's shoulder.
The woman in turn couldn't help but scoff at the declaration. "Right," she said sarcastically with a shake of her head.
"Brooke?" Peyton asked, obviously not prepared for her reaction.
She closed her eyes and attempted to keep the anger at bay, but she couldn't. The fact that Peyton had the audacity to claim she was there for her, when clearly she wasn't, unnerved Brooke to no end. "I don't want to fight with you, Peyton," she said in even tones.
"Well, I want you to talk to me so if it includes fighting and yelling, then so be it," she said stubbornly.
"What is it with you?" Brooke hissed as she stood up, finally losing her temper. She glared at Peyton and continued on. "Do you always have to get your way?"
"Whoa, what's that supposed to—"
"I already said that I didn't want to fight with you, yet here you are—pushing the subject," Brooke carried on. "Yes, I've been avoiding you. Yes, I've been having a difficult time lately, but no—it didn't start once you and your precious Lucas decided you wanted to spend forever with one another. My life was falling apart long before that, so newsflash Peyton—my every happiness does not revolve around you."
"I never said it did!" Peyton defended herself. "God, what has gotten into you?"
"Me?" she asked incredulously. "I'm going through a hard time right now, Peyton. I'm holding on for dear life trying to keep it together, and so what—I'm being a little picky with the company that I keep but—"
"Picky? Seriously? I'm your best friend!—"
"Well, you could've fooled me," Brooke cut her off quietly and effectively. She stood her ground, even when Peyton's face paled at her words. She didn't allow the girl to speak as she continued on. "After everything that happened at Clothes over Bros, I needed my best friend more than anyone in the world." The rims of her eyes quickly coated with tears, but the wetness was too light to fall down her face. "I'd been brutally beaten to the point where I couldn't even take care of myself. I needed you there, Peyton. Not Nathan, not Haley—you. And the minute you come back from Vegas, the minute we're in the same room with one another, I have to find out that you're moving in with Luke?"
Peyton's eyes glazed over with tears. Her mouth formed circles around the words she tried to speak, but she failed miserably at offering an explanation. Brooke didn't need nor want one as she kept speaking.
"And to add insult to injury, I didn't even hear it from you, Peyton!" She didn't scream this last declaration but she shook her head from side to side, confusion marring the delicate curves of her face. "I could've cared less about you moving out of the house and in with Luke, honestly. But immediately after I'd been assaulted? You were still going to leave me—your best friend who's done nothing but constantly put you first?"
"I'm sorry," Peyton finally choked the words out. Her tears were solid proof of the guilt and torment she felt, and Brooke felt full of shame at the sight of it. She'd done this. She'd reduced her best friend to tears when Brooke was the one who'd been hurt. The irony of the situation failed to amaze her because their roles were simple; Peyton would always be the victim while Brooke would never shake the part of the woman scorned. Five years later and sadly nothing had changed. "I knew I should've stayed here with you—I wanted to stay here with you," she corrected herself. Peyton hung her head with shame when she realized there was no explanation for her actions.
Brooke shook her head sadly, her gaze wavering between her best friend and the space between them. "But Luke was too important to you."
"I didn't say that," Peyton began to argue.
"You didn't have to," Brooke replied just as easily. "I see it in your eyes." She held a hand in the air to thwart the onslaught of apologies threatening to spill from her lips. "You don't need to apologize. I'm not mad. I'm not mad anymore," she told her friend. "The two of you wasted enough time as it was, and I can't blame you for being eager to start your life with him," she spoke of the only man able to come between them.
"But you wouldn't have done the same," Peyton whispered disgracefully. Brooke remained quiet, unsure of what to say or feel. The fact that Peyton knew her well enough to know Brooke would've been by her side had the roles been reversed relieved her. But at the same time, her anger towards her friend was still too great and too strong to just forget. "I would've stayed with you, but Haley and Nathan had already offered—"'
Brooke shook her head sadly and stood from the bed. "You know, I'm really not looking for any explanations for something that just seems so unexplainable. Let's just… let's just forget about it," she sighed raggedly. She picked up her purse from the dresser and didn't bother turning to take another look at her friend. "I'll wait for you downstairs."
"Brooke," she stopped her, rising from the bed to stand perfect still as she waited for her best friend to turn and face her. When Brooke refused to look at her, she apologized one last time. "I'm sorry."
The brunette nodded her head and offered her profile in return. "So am I," she replied quietly.
"Are… are we gonna be okay?" Peyton asked timidly, afraid of the answer that awaited her.
Brooke closed her eyes and didn't hesitate to answer. "Sure. We'll be as good as new in no time." The smile left her voice when she turned to look at her friend, her stare unwavering as her eyes found hers. "But for now? We're just not."
"So, I hear you're almost as good as I am on the court."
Nathan turned around and came face to face with his infamous brother in law. Though the birthday party had a sports theme, he wasn't surprised to find Dean dressed in his signature leather jacket with a comfortable pair of jeans. The older man smirked as Nathan sized up his wardrobe. "Dude, I'm straight," he joked.
The youngest Scott brother laughed and motioned for Dean to follow him. "I used to be good. Until the accident, I was this close to being drafted by the NBA," he said, measuring his fingertips a millimeter apart.
"Yeah, I heard about that," Dean nodded his head solemnly. "That must've sucked."
Nathan snorted and nodded his head. They made their way towards the beverages on one of the picnic tables, and Nate gestured to his wife's brother, his hand hovering over a bottle of water. When Dean nodded his head, he handed him the drink and carried on with the discussion. "Luke told me you taught him how to play when he was younger."
Dean chuckled before twisting the cap off the bottle and taking a greedy sip off the rim. "You don't want to know how horrible his jump shot was at ten, man."
"What was he shooting? Nothing but bricks?"
The older man shook his head sadly. "More like air balls galore." The two men laughed at the idea of Luke shooting horribly, both silently taking into account that this was the first real conversation they were having. Dean shifted his gaze from the basketball court to the pin the tail on the donkey poster tacked to a nearby tree. Never one for subtlety, he dove head on into the conversation he'd been meaning to have with his sister's husband. "Has she been happy?"
The question went over smoothly with Nathan as he looked towards his wife and son. "Yes, she has," he answered honestly. He returned the wave both Haley and Jae gave to him, smiling in return at the two basketball moms. "I won't lie to you, though," he continued as his eyes remained glued on his wife. "There have been times when she's needed her older brother, and I would've given anything to bring you to her if I could."
Dean nodded his head, his gaze quickly landing on Brooke as she emerged from Peyton's car. The two girls looked the farthest thing from friendly as they quickly parted ways the closer they came to the court. Brooke found her way towards his sister and crouched low to give his nephew a hug. "But she's been okay?" he repeated, not ready to be lectured by a boy four years his junior.
Nathan sighed and crossed his arms over his chest. He took a glance toward Dean and wasn't surprised to find him looking solely at his best friend. "Yeah, she's been okay. But Brooke's another story." His eyes remained trained on the woman across the park as the man next to him fidgeted uncomfortably. Nathan could feel his eyes twitch towards his direction and did nothing to acknowledge his discomfort. "She's been through a lot, and I'm not just talking about what happened at her store. She's emotionally fragile, but she refuses to let anyone see it."
"I don't see what this has to do with—"
"Except for you," Nathan stated, finally turning to give his brother in law a good look. He nodded at the confused expression on his face before dismissing it completely with the following words. "I can see the way she looks at you, and maybe I can't hear the hushed conversations you have on the side but…"
"Look man, we're just friends," Dean began to explain before Nathan could go on. "Whatever you're thinking is going on between the two of us, it's nothing."
"Really?" Nathan asked unconvinced. "Says who? You or Brooke? Cos if the answer is the latter of the two, then you've got a lot to learn, bro." He lightly punched Dean on the shoulder, immediately eliciting a glare from the Winchester.
"Don't touch me ever again," he warned sternly.
Nathan's smile awkwardly faded from his face as he nodded his head twice. "Yeah," was his only response as he quickly walked away.
Across the park, Brooke was caught up in a conversation with both Haley and Jae when her cell phone rang, interrupting the three from babbling about their respective kids. Haley was proudly gushing to the other mom about Brooke's selfless act of taking care of baby Angie when the intrusion began. She smiled apologetically at the two mothers before retrieving the device from her bag. Her eyebrows drew together in confusion as a number she didn't recognize flashed onto her screen. She quickly excused herself and without another thought, she picked up the call and placed the phone to her ear. "Brooke Davis," she said into the mouthpiece.
"Slut."
Brooke instantly breathed a sigh of relief and closed her eyes, the response leaving her mouth automatically. "Bitch."
Rachel Gattina laughed breathlessly into the phone and sighed as well. "Good to know you're still talking to me."
"Rachel," she said into her phone, relieved to be in contact with her good friend. "Where are you?"
"I'm sorry, Brooke," Rachel replied after a moment's pause. She held back the tears but the sadness was laced into every word that fell from her lips. "I'm so sorry. I should've told you before I left. I just… I had to get out of that house. Your mom was breathing down my neck, calling me a failure and a junkie and—"
"Rachel, it's okay. We can talk about all that later," Brooke reassured her friend. "Are you all right?"
"I'm better than that," Rachel said proudly. "I'm in rehab."
She was shocked to say the least. Her mouth opened and closed around the words she wanted to say, but no sound came out of her mouth. Thankfully, Rachel continued speaking, prompting her silence.
"After that confrontation with your mom, I'll admit it. The first thing I wanted to do was take a hit, you know? I know your mom's a bitch, but there was a lot of truth in the words she spoke, and I couldn't ignore that. I… I realized that I didn't want to be that person anymore. I didn't wanna be the loser junkie that everyone saw when they looked at me. I wanted to clean up, I wanted to be better," she admitted.
Realization dawned upon Brooke as she put the pieces of the puzzle together. "You took my money and checked yourself into rehab," she figured it out. All this time, she knew there was something off about her friend's disappearance. Back in New York,
Rachel begged her for help. She'd heard this speech before, and it didn't seem right that Rachel would steal her money and leave. She didn't want to believe it at first, and now, she found her instincts to be validated. Rachel Gattina wasn't a failure; she was a survivor in every sense of the word.
"I know I should've left a note or something," her friend continued, "but to be honest, I wasn't sure I was going to do it at first. I had the taxi man drive me around for a bit before I made the decision to check myself in. It was by far the hardest thing I've ever had to do in my life, but I had to do it. For me."
Brooke's heart swelled as she listened to her sober friend on the other line. She was immensely proud of her for taking the first steps in getting her life back on track. No one pushed her, no one told her to go to rehab—she'd made the decision to clean up all on her own. Victoria may have had a hand in pushing her towards the right direction, but the fact of the matter was, Rachel was getting help. Brooke couldn't be happier for her one-time nemesis. "Rachel, I'm so proud of you."
"I thought you would be," the redhead said as a matter of fact. "I'm pretty proud of myself, too."
"Why didn't you call me and tell me where you were? We were worried about you."
Rachel shook her head from her side of the line, even though she knew Brooke couldn't see her. "The facility is very strict on us having no contact with anyone for the first month. No calls, no visitors."
"I'm sure you could've written me a letter or something," Brooke pressed on.
"Right. Tomorrow you'll get a letter from me apologizing for being a complete junkie and swiping thousands of dollars from you," she said sarcastically. "A letter didn't feel right. I needed to say what I had to say over the phone since I couldn't do it in person. I wanted to do it sober." Brooke nodded her head, realizing that her friend was right. Rachel spoke up once again. "Besides, my counselor suggested that I keep a journal to vent out my frustrations, but you know me. I'm never one to do things the proper way. Instead of baring my soul on a harmless piece of paper, I wrote each passage in a letter format to you."
Brooke was rendered speechless if only for a second. "Me? Why me?"
Rachel rolled her eyes as she twisted the phone cord in her hand. "Really? You're trying to make me get all sappy and emo? Who do you think you're talking to, Peyton?"
She felt a pang of sadness at the mention of her so-called best friend. Her eyes unconsciously found the blonde woman, and she wasn't surprised to find Luke consoling her, holding her in a tight embrace. A sigh escaped her parted lips as she turned her back towards the couple, directing her full attention to the slut on the other line.
"Wow," Rachel continued after the silence threatened to stretch on. "No defense for attacking your best friend? That's a first," she said coyly. "Don't tell me you've finally put little miss obsessive in her place?"
Brooke smiled both at Rachel's words and at the man who swaggered towards her. "Be nice, Rach."
"Never," she said evilly. She paused momentarily, her hand covering the mouthpiece of the phone for a second or two. "As much as I love berating you and your friends, they're telling me I've used all my family minutes."
"Okay," Brooke said, her voice betraying the emotions she felt.
Rachel laughed on her end of the phone and pulled her hair to the side. "Don't sound so pathetic, Davis. I get phone privileges every night now that I've stepped up in the program. You'll be hearing a lot more from me, unfortunately for you."
The brunette smiled and nodded her head. "I'm glad to hear it. Take care of yourself, Rachel."
She opened her dirty mouth in hopes of ridding their parting of any sentimental value but thought better of it at the last minute. S he closed her eyes and tipped her chin downward, a small genuine smile forming on her lips. "I will. Brooke?"
"Hmm?"
"I… thank you. For everything. I probably wouldn't be here if it wasn't for you so… thank you. For saving me," she said sincerely.
"You're welcome," Brooke replied softly. "I love you. Fatass."
The hearty laugh Rachel gave was music to Brooke's ears. "Love you, too. Bitch."
She hung up the phone then, the sound of her friend's laughter ringing in her ears. It was good to know that Rachel was alive and safe and taking the first steps into turning her life around. She couldn't have been any more proud of her nemesis-turned-best friend.
"That looked like an important phone call," Dean guessed as he made his way to her.
A thought struck Brooke and instantly, it seemed as if she weren't even listening to the man who stood before her. She stared off into the distance, her forehead crinkled in confusion. "I save people," she said blankly.
He cocked an eyebrow at her and tried to understand what she was getting at. Maybe the guy who knocked her around a bit must've hit her a little too hard on the head. "Am I supposed to know what you're talking about?"
"I save people," she repeated again, turning to face him. She shook her head at the idea and let out a little laugh. "That's what I do. I'm a people saver."
Dean remained perplexed. "…Okay. Whatever makes you happy."
She playfully pushed him away from her and took note of the shy smile that momentarily lit up his face. "You're making fun of me," she softly pouted.
"I can't help it," came the immediate response. "You make it too easy." He shook the smile of his face after she rolled her eyes at him. "I am interested in that whole saving people complex you've got going on, though."
"Cut it out," she laughed while pushing him aside once more.
"What? I'm being serious. What did you mean when you said you were the people saver of the future?"
Brooke glared at his choice of words and folded her arms against her chest. They were strolling leisurely away from the party, yet she didn't feel the need to guide them in the right direction. They walked towards an abandoned picnic table directly by the river. When she moved to sit on top of the table, her feet resting neatly on the bench seats, he followed suit and followed her gaze to the water.
"When I took care of Angie," she started, "I had a hard time letting her go. Luke came to see me the night I took her to the airport, and he told me that I save people." She brought her hazel eyes to his hazel green ones, and shrugged. "I saved Angie by agreeing to take care of her so she could have this life-saving surgery. I fixed Peyton's life by investing in her dreams and pushing her to jumpstart her own record label. Years ago, I saved Luke from letting his break up with Peyton consume him by suggesting that he focus on publishing the best book he possibly could. I saved Haley and Nate's marriage too many times to count, and now… now I've saved Rachel from killing herself with her drug addiction."
Brooke brought her eyes towards the water once more and knew this time Dean didn't mimic her movements. "I save people," she quietly repeated herself, shaking her head at the role she always came back to in the inner circle.
Dean didn't know what to say at first. Judging by the way she'd been closing herself off from the rest of the gang, he was certain this was the first time she was speaking of her ability to rescue them from themselves. "Do you not want to do that anymore?"
Her attention flew to him so suddenly that for a second, he felt as if she forgot he was there. Brooke blinked in surprise, her lips parting slightly as she thoughtfully took a moment to think the question over. Finally, with her trademark, somber smirk, she offered him the only answer she could. "It's my role, Dean. It's what I do."
"Well, who says you gotta keep doing it?" he asked earnestly, shrugging his shoulders while leaning his head towards her. "Your friends are adults. They're all responsible for their own actions, and if you ask me, they shouldn't be leaning on you to clean up their messes."
She was silent for a minute before shaking her head at his assumptions. "That's the thing, though; they don't lean on me. I'm just there to help when I can."
"Okay," he nodded his head. "Then, maybe you're the one enabling everyone."
Brooke reared her head back as if she'd been physically slapped. "Excuse me?"
Dean's eyebrows arched up towards his forehead and he shrugged again. "Peyton didn't ask you to help her with the label, but you went in and assisted her anyway. I'm sure my sister and her husband would've been able to find their way back to each other without your help and Luke… well, he's always been a crybaby, so I can't say anything about you helping him."
Though she wanted to smile at his observation of her ex-boyfriend, Brooke was still wounded by his earlier comment on herself. "So, you think I enable my friends?"
"I don't know what I think," he answered simply. "I'm just an innocent bystander with a big mouth." That line won him a small smirk, for which he was grateful. Dean in no means set out to offend his roommate, and he was glad that she didn't take his words to the heart. "But seriously? I think you and your 'saving' complex are pretty awesome," he quoted his fingers in the air around the word.
Her smirk quickly morphed into a shy smile as she began nodding her head as a thought struck her. "That's right; I forgot to mention that I saved your sorry ass from being homeless, too."
Dean laughed shortly at her immodesty and shook his head. "You didn't save my ass from anything. You badgered me into moving in with you. It's not like I had any choice in the matter."
"You ungrateful pig," she shook her head at him. Though her words were harsh, the smile that refused to leave her face softened the insult, rendering it nonexistent to the two of them.
"Whatever. If anyone's an ungrateful pig, it's you."
"ME?" she yelled, sitting straight up. "How could you say that?"
"Well, here I am… working fourteen hour shifts just to find out who went and tossed you around and invaded your store, and I don't even get so much as a Thanks, Dean," he said jovially.
"Oh, please," she pushed him away with a breathless laugh. "I feed you and clean up after you," she reminded him. "So don't call me the ungrateful pig."
"You're right. Maybe pig was a wrong choice in words," he agreed, never once meeting her eyes. He could feel her fuming beside him and bit back a snort that threatened to escape from his mouth. Then he went and pictured her pretty little face scrunched up with annoyance and began to shake with his suppressed laughter.
When he turned to look at Brooke, he was surprised to find her smiling at him, shaking her head in mock disapproval. "Have I told you lately—"
"How big of an ass I am?" he finished her question, complete with a matching smile that rivaled the brightness of her own. "Not since breakfast, no."
"Yeah, well now you're infuriating," she nudged his shoulder with her own.
"Whatever. You still think I'm hot," he replied in feigned aggravation. The two laughed at the silliness of their conversation.
"Somebody seriously needs to deflate that ego of yours, Detective Dean," Brooke advised him.
A smile brightened his face as he pointed at his roommate. "Well, then I propose you do it. You are the savior of your people." He paused when she let out a small chuckle. "So save me."
"Not on your life," she told him, letting out a full laugh this time. He joined in soon after, and pretty soon, the two found themselves enjoying the other's company in complete silence. There was no need for words as they sat quietly, appreciating the calmness of the scenery before them. The kids screamed and ran yards away behind them, but the two remained oblivious to it all.
"If I hadn't already said it… thank you… hero," she said begrudgingly to the officer of the law by her side.
He nodded his head without turning to look at her. "Anytime, Princess."
Her eyebrows shot up against their own will. She regarded him with curious eyes and repeated his last word. "Princess?"
Dean shrugged while the corner of his mouth hitched up in sync with his body motions. "It was either that or pig." When she raised her fist to sock him in retaliation, he held up his hands to thwart the attack. "Need I remind you that it's against the law to assault a police officer?"
"Sleep with one eye open," she said immediately in response. Dean could only laugh at the comment, prompting Brooke to do the same.
"Sorry to interrupt you two, but I wanted to make the introductions before the games got started," Nathan said as he walked up to the two with Jae at his side. "You already know Brooke, but this is Haley's brother, Dean Winchester. Dean, this is Jane Andrews."
"Of course," Dean stood up and nodded politely. "Mother of the birthday boy, right?" he asked as he offered the young mother his hand. "Some party you have here."
Jae nodded graciously and retrieved her hand from his handshake. "Thank you. It's nice to know all the hard work I've put into this event hasn't gone unnoticed."
"Are you kidding me?" Brooke asked with a wrinkle on her forehead. "You've got relay races, contests, games, great food, good music and a jumper for the kids." Her tone remained impressed as she placed her hands on her hips. "I'm not a kid and even I'm having fun."
Nathan nodded his head in agreement. "And the CEO of Clothes Over Bros is not all that easy to impress," he added.
"Unless, of course, you're name just so happens to be Dean Winchester," the cop added smugly. Nathan and Jae laughed at his fabricated arrogance while Brooke shook her head and rolled her eyes.
"Please, don't encourage him," she told the two.
"They can't help it," Dean continued. He winked at Jae and drawled, "I'm amazing."
"You're also Jamie's Uncle Dean… right?" Jae asked with a curious twinkle in her eye. She shot her gaze towards Brooke and stifled a laugh at the alarmed expression on her face.
"Guilty as charged," he replied, not missing the look between the two women. "I see Ms. Davis here has been talking about me again." He grinned lazily at Brooke, failing to hold in his laughter when she shoved him away from her.
"I need a needle to pop that ego of yours," she said disapprovingly, though her tone was anything but harsh.
"Needle? More like an axe," Nathan added. When Dean glared at him, the younger man shrugged and stuffed his hands in his pockets. "It sounded funny in my head."
While the foursome laughed at Nathan's transparent fear towards Dean, they failed to notice the arrival of Jamie's other favorite uncle until he spoke. "Brooke, can I talk to you?"
They turned to find Luke standing a few feet away with a determined expression set on his face. "Luke…"
Sensing the tension between the two, Jae stepped in to play peacemaker. "Actually, Brooke… I was coming over to ask you for your help with the potato sack race."
Brooke smiled appreciatively at her new friend and nodded her head, prepared to make herself available to the young mother.
Luke, however, wouldn't take the hint. "I'm sorry, Brooke. This can't wait," he said firmly.
The fashionista blinked her eyes in surprise, hoping desperately that Jae's intervention would save her from a screaming match she didn't feel privy to participating in. Imagine her surprise when Dean spoke up beside her.
"Actually, I'm sure that it can, Lucas." Detective Dean quickly replaced her friendly roommate, and Brooke found herself blinking once more as she witnessed the confrontation. "It's a birthday party, and if Jae needs our help, we're gonna help her. You can talk to her later," he said nonchalantly, yet his tone carried much intimidation.
"Our help?" Luke couldn't help but repeat. "I don't remember hearing her ask for your assistance."
Dean smirked at his long time friend and grabbed Brooke's hand. He tucked it firmly into the crook of his elbow and began to walk back towards the party with her by his side. "Since when did you take me for the kind of guy who only helps when asked?" he asked pointedly. As they walked closer towards his sister's best friend, he couldn't help but continue. "Besides, we're a packaged deal. I go wherever she goes."