Remember, this is a sibling-fic… so there… :)

-o0o-

He heard someone run in the hallway, the sound of their steps growing ever closer. They were coming because of the commotion he and Greg were making, Lucas realized, just as unfortunately he felt his head impact with the unyielding concrete underneath. The dull thud reverberated through his brain and he felt all strength leave his body. His hands grew numb. Although Lucas tried his best to fight against it, his hold onto his opponent's arms slackened. His eyelids grew strangely heavy as haziness started clouding his mind, and Lucas rather heard then actually felt Greg punch his head again and again and…

… Suddenly, the punches stopped. As he suffered one last mind-numbing blow to the back of his skull, Lucas gratefully welcomed the dark edges of impending unconsciousness; until he heard a shrill and shocked-sounding voice call out his name, then that of his brother. "Oh my God, Luke… Oh God… Nathan, he's—Nathan? Oh no… stop, Nate! It's over, he's not fighting anymore, he's—oh God Haley, we—we need to do something! Nathan! Crap…"

The shadowy figure whose knees had barely touched the ground beside Lucas rose again. He blinked, trying to clear his vision. In the brightness coming off of the lights at the ceiling, he eventually identified Brooke. Right, Brooke—that's why he had started fighting in the first place. That SOB Greg had had the nerve to threaten her…

"Nathan, don't! Oh God, please stop! No no no no no. Please…"

"Oh God, Haley, make him stop. Make him stop! He's going to kill him. He's going to kill him!"

"Nathan!"

A surge of adrenaline brought back Lucas's senses as he heard the girls' voices grow panic-filled. The sound made him battle the unconsciousness his battered head was so desperately craving. But it was necessary. Something was going on; something bad. It involved his brother and Lucas couldn't let anything bad happen again, not when Nathan was involved, or Brooke before him. Only half lucid, Lucas heard Brooke beg for Haley to make it stop. Make him stop. And all he could think was, 'Nathan.' Forcing his eyes to stay open he tried to pick himself up unaided and slowly turned his head. The motion made him dizzy, forced him to wait a few seconds for his vision to clear. Then, his gaze fell on Brooke, whose eyes widened in surprised shock. "Lucas!" she yelled before she hurried over to help him stand while just a little to their side Nathan was taking it out on Greg. By the looks of it, he came closer and closer to beating the guy to a pulp and yet he didn't show even the slightest signs of intending to stop. He didn't lessen the force of his punches, not even when a pain-filled yell escaped Greg, and Lucas was sure he'd heard the guy's nose break with a sickening crack. It was then that he suddenly went on autopilot, watching himself as he surged forward, toward his brother.

He had to make him stop.

"Please," sobbed Brooke, while Haley was imploring Nathan to "Let go," while she was helplessly trying to pull him away from Greg.

"He is not worth it, Nathan," she cried, tears streaming down her flushed face. "Please, you'll kill him!" She choked on her words as sudden realization dawned on her and she whispered, "It's alright. He can't hurt Luke anymore," and a little more loudly, "He won't hurt him now…"

No matter her pleas, though, Nathan remained unresponsive to them. He didn't intend to let the guy get away with what he had done to Lucas. In fact, he wanted to make him pay for hurting Lucas, for beating up his brother, who had been in no position to defend himself properly at the time. Beating up a guy in a wheelchair; could someone really be any more despicable? But Nathan would show him what it meant to mess with a Scott. He would show him all right!

Strangely, it was nearly a gentle movement when suddenly someone grabbed a hold of Nathan's arms and tore him away from the Anders kid. He was barely aware of it until his gaze fell on his bloodied hands that were no longer able to strike blows at the sucker's face. Only then did he get aware of the fact that someone was circling his torso with their arms from behind. "Stop fighting me, Nate, goddammit," someone hissed insistently, and Nathan finally identified the voice as that of his older brother.

Luke? He thought, but was unable to say anything. Panting, he felt his breath catch in his lungs as he stared ahead of him to where Greg lay, covering his face with both hands, whimpering pathetically. Nathan could only watch as Haley knelt down beside the guy and tried to console him. She didn't seem to know whether she should touch Greg. Her hands nervously clenching and unclenching, she looked from Greg to Lucas, then to Nathan. Her eyes held an inscrutable expression. Shock, contempt, disappointment? All of the above at once probably, but Nathan didn't care—or told himself that he didn't, though his heart grew heavy at the thought…

He didn't quite understand what had happened. He only realized that Lucas was holding onto him, pulling Nate away with him. Out of the corner of his eye, Nate saw his brother's upended wheelchair lying on its side, abandoned. Nathan frowned as his gaze fell onto his hands once more, onto his torn and throbbing knuckles, then onto Greg's face. It took a while before comprehension eventually set in and he realized what he had done.

He had pretty much lost it, he figured. He had acted out of some screwed up sense of protectiveness of his family; of his brother, a sense of protectiveness toward others he never knew he was capable of…

"You—you are crazy!" Greg suddenly blurted, trying to struggle into a sitting position, shoving Haley to the side. Haley, who had merely tried to assist him, backed away almost instantly and eyed him warily. "You Scotts…," Greg choked out, before spitting some blood onto the floor. His voice sounded muffled even after he had taken his hands away from his dropping nose. "You fucking broke my nose, Scott!" he yelled at Nathan, shooting killing glances at both him and Lucas. It took all Luke's strength to keep Nate from rising to the bait while at the same time keeping himself in a standing position.

He was standing… Lucas was really standing on his own two feet, and not only was he carrying his own weight, but also that of his brother. He was standing.

If only his head wouldn't hurt so badly. And if only he didn't have the annoying sensation of the ground having started to move underneath him, he thought. His arms grew heavy with Nathan's weight, but he couldn't let go of the kid now; not as long as he was still so angry and upset.

"Lucas…" He saw Brooke edge closer to him, eyeing him worriedly, warily. And though he wanted to warn her to keep some distance, he couldn't get his tongue to work. He simply couldn't. There he stood, Lucas Scott, older brother of Nathan Scott, son of Dan Scott and Karen Roe, nephew of Keith Scott. Boyfriend of Brooke Davis… He was unable to move, unable to speak, unable to do anything but hold onto his brother and put all his strength into keeping Nate from ruining his life, and Greg's—ruining all their lives.

"You fucking broke my nose, you—you crazy sons of bitches, you…," Greg was actually sobbing as he picked himself up off the ground, warily looking from one Scott to the other. Without leaving his eyes off the two brothers he finally took a few careful steps backward, away from them, away from the girls, too. Haley tried to help him staunch the flow of blood issuing from his nose, but he merely pulled away, shoving her to the side. "Leave me the hell alone!" he shot at her, as he saw Nathan fight harder to free himself of his brother's forceful embrace.

"Take your dirty hands off of Haley!" the younger Scott yelled, and for a moment Greg felt fear rise up inside of him as he saw Nathan trying to break free. Then he heard Lucas calmly say, "No, Nate, come on, man. It's okay. Everything's fine, you hear me?"

"That son of a—"

"Nate, man. Haley's fine, right, Hales?" He nodded over to where his best friend stood, shock evident in her whole bearing.

"Uh, yeah. Yeah!" Haley tried to smile. "I'm fine, I'm—good, Nathan. Nothing happened…"

"See?" Lucas continued once Haley's weak assertion had trailed off into silence. "Everything is fine. Not need to protect her—or me… Greg is not going to hurt anyone anymore, alright? Nate?" Suddenly, Greg felt Lucas' gaze burn into him insistently. "Right, Greg?" he queried, startling Greg with his sudden change of address. He caught himself quickly, though, and looked down into his hand where a puddle of blood had already gathered. Greg snorted.

"Let me go, Luke. I—"

"Nathan," Lucas warned without leaving his eyes off of Greg.

"Luke. I won't do anything stupid, okay? Seriously, man."

"Greg?" Lucas repeated. He wanted to make sure the whole situation wouldn't escalate once again before he allowed himself to let go of his brother. Because, after all, this was still Nathan Scott talking. It would surprise no one if he didn't heed his own words. Besides, Lucas was also a little worried that his legs might give way once he no longer had anything to hold onto.

"Do us all a favor and just leave."

"And you don't need to come back any time soon—or, ever!" Brooke quickly inserted. Hugging herself, she stepped up behind Lucas, her hand lightly touching his back in a fleeting moment. But even that little moment helped him see that the whole mess had still been worth it. Greg hadn't been able to come between them, and Lucas was sure that was what he had intended with his whole sudden confrontation all along. Why, though, he couldn't quite understand. And after all those weeks! Wouldn't it have been the smarter move to try something while Lucas was still at the hospital? But an unpleasant grin erupting on Greg's face instantly stopped him from going down that road any farther.

"Aw, come now," Greg said, faux disappointment evident in his intonation.

"Dude," Lucas warned. He wanted to step up to him, but didn't quite trust his own body to carry him forward unaided. So he remained where he was, still lightly holding onto one of Nathan's arms, still carefully watching his younger brother's every reaction. But luckily he hadn't moved an inch, was still somewhat protectively standing half in front of Luke. Therefore, it took Lucas completely by surprise when Greg suddenly lunged forward in a lithe movement and hit Nathan, hard enough for him to stumble backward and crash into Lucas, the blow eventually sending them both down to the ground. Instantly, Luke felt a familiar pain shoot up and down his leg.

But that wasn't even the worst. Nor were Brooke's and Haley's shocked exclamations. No, the worst was yet to come when maybe one or two minutes later an echoing bellow resounded.

"What in the world is going on out here! Lucas and Nathan Scott!" Whitey yelled and Lucas stared up at the old Coach, whose face was red with fury. Looking down again, he found himself bent over Nathan just like before, in the middle of pulling him away from Greg. He closed his eyes briefly, already knowing what was to come…

"You… Shouldn't you know better than that? The two of you, beating up one person? One?" Whitey couldn't believe his eyes, couldn't for the life of him believe what he saw: Lucas Scott, tearing his brother away while their bleeding victim was lying sprawled on the ground. Bending down right next to the boy, Whitey made sure that he was still alive before looking up into the brothers' faces again. "I'm…," he was speechless. Turning his gaze toward the two girls present, he ordered them to go and call an ambulance, and Brooke was quick to get her cell phone out and flip it open.

That gave Whitey time to address the kid on the ground. "It's okay, kiddo," he said and lightly patted the boy's shoulder. He stared up at Whitey, slowly raising a hand to the mess that was his nose and whimpering in pain. "The ambulance is already on the way. Now, don't you move too much, son. It's alright, now. They are not going to hurt you anymore." Coach Durham had never been good at that empathizing thing, but he was trying to reassure the poor boy as best he could.

"Coach, I…"

"I don't want to hear anything from you Lucas Scott! You and that useless brother of yours—go to my office and wait there for your parents! And don't think I won't call the police, because I sure as hell will!"

"Whitey, please. I know what it looks like, but—"

"But what? Do you think I'm stupid, Lucas?"

"He's telling the truth, Coach!" Both Haley and Brooke implored him, but he only flashed one angry glance at them. "I didn't think you girls would actually fall for their stupid explanations—"

"But, Whitey…," Brooke started. She didn't get any farther than that, though. "I don't want to hear anything from you, either! Now go and get the school nurse over here.—Leave! Both of you, leave! I no longer want to see either of you here! Go!—And you, Lucas, do you think I didn't see you tear Nathan away from this innocent kid here? Do you think I didn't?—Even if I hadn't, don't you think the poor boy's face speaks for itself?—I thought you were smarter than that, Lucas. After all you've been through; I thought you were smarter." It pained Lucas to hear how upset the old man was, it pained him to see the utter disappointment in his face, but he didn't dare explain that it had not been like that. Not this time…

"So you find out that you are no longer confined to a wheelchair and the first thing you do is get into a fight?—You can't even begin to imagine how disappointed I am, at both of you! But you, Lucas…"

Helplessly, Lucas dropped his gaze into his lap before turning to Nathan. He was sitting leaning against the wall right next to Luke, cradling his arm. They exchanged a glance, then Lucas nodded to the younger one. "Let's do what he said," he eventually whispered and waited for Nathan to move. Once he had slowly risen, Lucas dared indicate himself. "I don't think I can get up on my own…" The pain was just too much again, and besides, he just didn't think he was able to put any weight on his leg again anytime soon. Flinching, he remembered the doctor's instructions to take it easy if he didn't want to make things worse. He hoped he hadn't done any permanent damage to his thigh today… Luckily, Nathan understood him without any further explanation and went to retrieve the wheelchair. Afterward, he helped Lucas sit down.

They had to pass Whitey and Greg on their way to his office. Luke couldn't help feeling disgusted when he heard the guy whimper about how horribly they had beaten him up, distorting the actual events into little more than a farce. For though Whitey had indeed seen him tear Nathan away from Greg—and though yes, Nathan had been close to beating Greg into oblivion previously—things had been different this time.

Because he hadn't kept Nathan from punching out Greg's brain. Rather, he had tried to save him from having his brain punched out by Greg… Shooting a glance up at his brother, Lucas wondered what consequences the whole incident would have on their lives. He was afraid that even if he should ever be able to play ball again, Whitey would never allow him back on the team. He was afraid that the police would believe whichever story Greg told them and then put it on his and Nate's records. The clean slate gone, and with it any chance of earning a scholarship for college, or…

… and what if Greg had seriously suffered some lasting damage because of the fight? What would Lucas do if he were responsible for Greg to no longer be able to live his life as before? With hanging head, he followed Nathan into Whitey's office and tried to ready himself for whatever drama was to follow.

-o0o-

"He—what?"

Keith lifted his head once he heard Karen's voice turn into a screech. She had answered the phone only a couple of seconds ago, and already, her mood had done a complete 180; from light and happy to somewhat shocked and disbelieving. Keith, who was in the middle of repairing a leak in the kitchen sink plumbing, looked up at her, furrowing his brow worriedly. This didn't sound good; no, not at all.

It wasn't like there had been many occasions for happiness in Karen's life lately. But since Lucas had eventually been discharged from the hospital, her mood had begun to lighten ever so slightly, and Keith had thought that the worst lay behind them already. Now, though, he wasn't so sure anymore. Waiting for her to terminate the call, he stood watching her speak with whoever had called her. Then, finally, Karen looked at him and with a beat muttered, "Lucas was involved in a fight at school." Just like that.

Squinting his eyes, Keith looked at her incredulously. He wasn't sure he had understood her quite correctly. "I beg your pardon?"

"You heard me. Your nephew was involved in a fist fight.—Nathan's name was mentioned, too…"

"But, Karen…" Keith stuttered as he approached Lucas's mom. "Luke and Nate; together? In a fight? How—What," he stuttered, too readily able to come up with a fitting scenario involving those two brothers and a fight. "Don't say that after they survived that accident together they still don't get along any better—"

"No, they… Whitey said they beat up someone else. So badly he had to send for an ambulance…," tears were welling in Karen's eyes. "Lucas… God, Keith, I don't think I can take any more of this… I nearly lost Lucas, and now he doesn't have anything better to do than endanger someone else's life—as well as his own health?" And suddenly, Keith found himself being faced with a woman crying in his arms, her shoulders shaking as she sobbed into his shirt.

"Ssh, Karen. It's—it's alright. I'm sure it's not as bad as it sounds, okay?" he assured her somewhat lamely, cursing himself for his clumsy attempt at consolation.

-o0o-

Whitey hung up the phone and stared over to where the blonde Scott sat hunched in his wheelchair, running a hand through his already messy hair. Suddenly the Coach sprang to his feet. "Congratulations! The paramedics said poor Greg's injuries looked worse than they actually are. But you kids broke his nose! You broke his nose, goddammit!" he exclaimed, releasing some of the pent-up anger he had previously fought to swallow down. When both kids failed to show any sort of reaction, he thumped his desk with both his palms. "Lucas and Nathan Scott! Don't you have anything to say to that?"

Neither Lucas nor Nathan said anything, though Whitey caught the brief glance they exchanged.

"What, no story to defend yourselves? Nothing of that 'it's not what it looked like'-crap you previously tried to come up with as an excuse?—Alright, then. Let's wait and see what your parents are gonna say once they get here.—And damn you, boys, you can call yourselves lucky that I didn't call the cops, yet! If the parents of that Anders kid learn what you did, though…"

His gaze turned from one toward the other brother. Both boys were avoiding his eyes, rather staring at their feet instead.

"Do you hear?" Whitey finally took in the state they were in, battered, bruised. While Lucas was distractedly kneading the muscle of his injured thigh, Nathan seemed to be holding his arm in a somewhat suspicious looking posture. Sighing, the Coach grumbled out an involuntarily worried "You boys all right?"

"Yes, Sir," Lucas eventually mumbled, lifting his gaze briefly, but only to check on his brother, who was not responding.

"Nathan?" Whitey called his name and walked over to where the boy sat. "Aw for heaven's sake, if I need to get the nurse in here for you, too…," he muttered, more to himself than to either of the Scotts. Before he could even touch the swollen and bloody looking side of his star player's head, the kid flinched, then hurried to stutter out an unconvincing "'I'm fine."

"Well," Whitey was just about to go and call the nurse anyway, when the door to his office was opened quite forcefully and Dan Scott stormed in.

"Where the hell is he?"

"Hello, Dan. I don't think I called you," the old man wondered aloud, squinting at his former student.

"Whitey. Where's my—there you are! Nathan, you stupid idiot!"

"Dan," Coach Durham's warning could be heard as Dan approached his younger son, who was just then rising from his chair.

"Dad…," made Nathan, sounding more than a little apprehensive. Backing away until he felt the concrete of the wall behind him, Nathan never once took his gaze off of his father. Still, he flinched as Dan suddenly yelled, "Goddammit, Nathan!" He felt himself shoved right into the wall, felt his dad grab him in a chokehold, felt his vision grow dim with the lack of oxygen.

Lucas tensed at the sight.

"What are you trying to do here, huh, Nathan? Are you trying to ruin all our lives, son? Your poor mother was worried out of her mind when she heard about the fight! And I thought, no, this can't be right. My son would never get involved in a fight when he barely survived a car crash a few weeks ago and just returned back to full training sessions.—No, not my son."

"Dan." Whitey called out warningly as he walked up to the man.

"Stay out of it, old man!"

"Let go of Nathan, Dan," Whitey hissed, ignoring the man's warning. Out of the corner of his eye, Luke saw the old coach slowly approach Dan and Nathan. "Let. Go."

"Stay back, Whitey, this is a father-son thing here—none of your damn business!"

"It is, if you choose to throttle your own kid in my office. Let me tell you one thing now, Danny. Either you take your hands off of that boy right now, or you will be surprised at the speed with which I can turn this from a father-son thing into a 'Dan Scott faces his creator' thing!" Whitey threatened. But Dan merely grinned at him.

"Oh yeah?"

"Oh yeah."

"Well, if that is so…" Dan wasn't paying much attention to Lucas, nor to his younger son's frantic tries to free himself out of his grasp. Thus, he failed to notice that Lucas had fought his way into a standing position once again and was now arming himself with the baseball bat that had previously adorned the wall a little over Whitey's desk.

"Let go of him, you bastard!" Lucas suddenly bit out, before he swung the bat threateningly.

Dan laughed. "Or what, Lucas? Are you going to hit me over the head with that old thing?"

"I swear…"

"Lucas—" Contempt marked the name as Dan spoke it, but Luke chose to ignore that, just as he chose to ignore the man's annoying grin.

Then, suddenly, a dull sound could be heard and everyone in their little group froze; everyone except for Dan, who slowly let go of Nathan, then fell to the ground. Over Dan's unconscious form, Lucas's and Nathan's gazes met. The latter took great gasps of much needed air as his panic-filled eyes bore into his brother's.

"Boys, are you alright?" Whitey called out to them urgently, but to Luke it sounded strangely subdued. "Boys…" Whitey knelt down beside Dan, briefly checking the man's vital signs. As soon as he had assured that he was still breathing, Whitey lifted himself up off the ground again, looking from one boy to the other. Oh, what was he to do with those two?

Lucas stared at him, then turned to face his younger sibling once again, and to his shock, he saw tears welling up in Nathan's eyes as his younger brother let himself sink to the ground. "It's alright, Nate. Dan is…," Lucas faltered, then followed Nate down to the ground. Staring at the kid beside him, he finally repeated, "It's alright. He won't hurt you again, okay?"

A short, desperate laugh escaped Nathan at hearing that. "Oh yeah? You don't know shit, Luke. Seriously, man, no offense, but—you have no friggin' clue what living with this man is like. Nothing's ever gonna stop…"

And suddenly, Nathan started crying for real, leaving an embarrassed and worried older brother to think of something to do. In the end Luke settled on wordlessly imploring Whitey to give them a moment, and clumsily he pulled the kid into a sideways hug.

"You'll see, Nate. This time, it's different…"