AN: Um, hey? For anyone that is reading this because of an author alert or something, just to let you know, I'm never ever gonna finish any of my other stories. After you read this, you'll know why – I can't write anymore. Both because I feel like I'm not very good, and also because I just can never sit down and write anything. I used to be able to get a chapter a day done [good or bad], but now, it's impossible. But alas, I had to write this, because I just did. It's rushed and this first part is short, but it needed to at least be up today, for obvious reasons. I don't know when I'll get the next parts up, but I promise to try to get them up at some point in time.

Title is from a Dashboard Confessional song. It's late, the title fits perfectly, my others suck anyway. Deal with it. Enjoy!

Brooke groaned and pulled a pillow over her face when she heard her alarm clock buzz. It was a Sunday, and for a moment she couldn't figure out why she had even set her alarm in the first place. Then she remembered what today was – Mother's Day.

Any other year, this day meant absolutely nothing to her. Sure, she might curse Bitchtoria a little bit more than normal, but she didn't usually get too upset over it. She'd accepted long ago that she'd never have the mother she wished for, there was no use getting angsty over it all the time.

But this year was different. This year she felt like a mom. This year, she had become a mother, and she had stopped being a mother just as quickly. There wasn't a minute that went by that she didn't think of Samantha since she had left, but she knew that it would be even worse today. The teen had left almost a month ago, but she was still heartbroken over it, and this day would only break it further.

Brooke reluctantly rolled out of bed, and pulled on her robe. She slipped into her slippers and sluggishly made her way to her bedroom door, turning the stereo on as she walked by it. Ever since Sam left, the house was way too quiet, and she liked to blast music to in a pointless attempt to comfort herself.

Remembering the time, she realized that she could only afford a quick shower if she wanted to make it to the Scott house on time. She didn't even know why she agreed to go over to Nathan and Haley's house for a Mother's Day breakfast, knowing Haley only invited her out of pity. Haley knew more than anyone how much losing Sam had hurt her, both because she was a mother herself and because she had been closest to the situation, and the last thing she wanted was for her friend to be alone today, so she had made sure to invite Brooke over the previous weekend.

Still, the thought had been nice, and Brooke really didn't want to be alone, so she was going and she would try to have fun. Peyton and Lucas were visiting Karen for the week, and Millicent was still in New York, so she was spending the day with the Scott family, and she already knew that Haley would make sure Jamie celebrated his godmother as much as he did his mother. Haley was incredibly thoughtful like that. She made a mental note to celebrate Teacher Mom herself, since she was always looking out for her.

She signed and stepped into the shower, letting the hot water wake her up. She let her mind wander as she went through the motions of cleansing herself, and before she knew it, she was finished, and wrapping herself in a towel. She wiped the steam off the mirror with her hand [something Haley had always scolded her for when they lived together], and stared at her reflection. After a moment, she tried to smile, practicing for the day. She figured she could probably fool Nathan and Jamie with it, but she definitely wouldn't get it passed Haley. She knew she'd end up talking about it at some point in the next 24 hours, but she'd deal with it when the time came.

Shaking her head, Brooke turned away from the mirror, and pulled the bathroom door open to walk into the hall. It wasn't until she spotted that the kitchen table was set up, that she noticed the music she had turned on before her shower was no longer playing. She glanced into her room to see that nothing else was different than when she left it, before she slowly and carefully walked towards the kitchen.

She didn't know what she was expecting to find when she got there, but Sam sitting on one of the bar stools at the counter was not one of them. The younger brunette smiled softly, sliding off her seat and moving towards her.

Brooke watched her movements in awe, not believing her eyes. "Sam?" She crocked out, not being able to find her voice. Of course she had dreamt of this moment, Sam coming home, almost every night since she had left, and she was afraid that this was just too good to be true.

"Happy Mother's Day," she spoke softly, not sure if Brooke's speechless reaction was a good or a bad thing. She knew she'd surprise Brooke by being there, but she wasn't sure if Brooke would be happy or pissed to see her. She had been loving and supportive when she left, but that could have changed. "I'd hug you, but you're in a towel, and you're wet, and that would be kinda …"

Brooke didn't let her finish before she threw herself at the smaller girl, wrapping her arms around her and squeezing her tighter than she ever had before; including after she had rescued her from X. Sam felt awkward enough in her purple dress, and Brooke's towel wasn't helping, but the minute she heard Brooke let out a sob, she didn't hesitate to wrap her own arms around her foster mother's waist.

This was definitely real, Brooke thought, as she pulled the girl closer to her, and buried her face in her hair. She knew it was real, yet she was still terrified that the moment she let go, she'd lose her daughter all over again, and she couldn't take that, not today.

By the time they pulled apart, a minute later, Sam was teary eyed too. Brooke laughed at her, and gently wiped the tears away with the pad of her thumb. "Sweetheart, what are you doing here?"

"Where else would I be on Mother's Day?" As much as her answer touched Brooke, she knew she needed to hear more. Suddenly feeling a bit shy, she looked down at her shoes [still her regular Converses, despite the girly dress she was wearing], nervous and somewhat ashamed of what she was going to say next.

Seeing that Sam was having trouble, Brooke hooked her finger under her chin and gently guided her gaze back up to met her. "You know you can tell me anything, right?" The teen nodded and took a shaky breath.

"I want to move back in here," she told her quietly, wishing she hadn't been put on the spot like that, so soon. She had planned on working up to it, but nothing in her life ever went as planned, so she just went with the flow. "I want to come home."

Brooke felt her eyes start to well up all over again, and she had to fight the urge not to pull Sam back into her arms again. Her face scrunched up in an attempt to stop the tears from falling, but it was no use. Instead of hugging her again, Brooke opted to cup the younger girl's cheeks, and bent down a bit so that they were at eye level. She needed Sam to hear this, and trust her words completely. "You already know the answer to that. I told you before you left that you would always have a home here, no matter what, and I meant it."

"So I can come back?"

"Of course, honey. Nothing would make me happier." It was as simply as that. She didn't need to beg, or make any promises or apologize for anything. Brooke didn't need to know why she wanted to come back, but she did want to know why. She squeezed Sam's cheeks affectionately, and kissed her forehead. "You don't have to tell me why, but I would like to know."

"Get changed and I'll finish making breakfast, and I'll tell you," Sam answered, shooing her foster mother away. She figured that Brooke probably assumed that something had gone terribly wrong with her birth mother, and that she was more running away from her, than she was coming back to Brooke, but that wasn't true at all.

Honestly, there had been nothing wrong with Rebecca Dennis. She liked Rebecca, and she felt a connection with her, but it wasn't anything like what she felt with Brooke. She never felt as comfortable in Rebecca's house as she did here, and her room didn't feel like her room at all. There weren't pictures of her around the house like Brooke had, and when she brought home an essay she did well on, Rebecca would congratulate her, but she didn't tell her she was proud of her and put it on the fridge like Brooke did. They talked a lot, sometimes about important things, but Sam would never talk back to her, she was afraid to. She never hesitated to be a brat with Brooke, because she trusted her, and she knew that no matter what she said, Brooke would still love her. Rebecca's house may have had a white picket fence, but it didn't make it more than it was; a house. Here, Brooke's, was home.

Rebecca Dennis was a pretty decent mother, a total score by foster home standards. Had she contacted Sam during her last foster placement, and asked her to move in, things probably would have worked out between them. But she had been too late.

Sam had been waiting fifteen years for her birth mother to find her, but her real mother had found her first.

I'll try to make the next part[s] better! Review?