#spobyy

It was strange how time could pass and yet, in certain moments, moments of clarity, it was almost as if nothing were different.

There was a certain euphoria that overcame her whenever she was with the one man who she loved with every atom of her body. A euphoria that appeared when they were close, both physically and emotionally. When they were so connected, it felt like there was nothing in this life that could ever seep between them again.

It was moments like those that she was the most honest, the most uncensored, the most emotionally naked.

"You wanna know something fucked up," she murmured, her voice husky and quiet and honest as she gazed tranquilly into his eyes.

"What?"

"A part of me-a bigger part than I even want to say-was almost a little happy in the hospital. When my parents were constantly there," she owned. The cop's expression was so understanding, so insightful, grasping exactly what she meant without her even having to vocalize it. Even still though, she wanted to. "It's terrible and bizarre and really, really unnerving because of the reasons I was there but… I liked the fact that I mattered for once to them. I was finally was the center of their lives. They were there, every second they could be, worrying about me and not Melissa." She paused to chuckle humorlessly to herself, finally breaking eye contact and subsequently looking downwards, at the sheets they were tangled up in. "It's really fucked up that I feel like that, isn't it?"

"No." He laughed and shook his head, his eyes offering her only complete understanding. Too much to just be sympathizing with her. Enough that he had to be emphasizing. He took a small breath before opening up as well, their love making also bringing him a tranquility that brought on a new level of honesty. "I used to have this really awful fantasy about telling my dad what Jenna was doing to me," he admitted. "I would imagine him flying off the handle and telling my step-mom and flipping out on Jenna and. . . and, I guess, protecting me." The sensitive cop paused for a second, shutting his eyes and taking in a small breath before lamenting, "At first, I just did it so I could imagine it ending. As a coping mechanism to get through it. But then, I still sometimes imagine it, even now. Just so I can picture my dad actually knowing and knowing that I wasn't the culprit and that I'm not the screw-up he still believes I am. It's all a daydream but it's nice to pretend that he would actually take my side. That he would turn on Jenna if he knew what she'd done to me."

At his admission, the brunette stared at him, at loss for words. "Toby," she whispered, her eyes glued to his face. She wracked her brain for something to say but all that came out was, "I never knew that. You've never told me that before."

He offered her a somewhat forlorn half smile. "I've never told anyone that before."

She bit her lip and felt her body physically sag, feeling the same as she always did whenever the topic of Jenna and his sexual abuse came up. Powerless.

Probably, she realized, akin to how he felt much of the time when he had to watch her be tortured ceaselessly. "I'm never going to let her touch you again," she promised definitively.

He chuckled, leaning in closer to press a kiss to her soft cheek. "My knight and shinning armor."

She cracked then and wrapped her arms around his neck, smiling into his throat as he rolled onto his back, bringing her with him.

The subject of Jenna dredged up an even worse taste in her mouth than usual, her stomach twisting into knots at even the sound of the vile girl's name.

Desperate to rid herself of this feeling, desperate to bring back the sensation, the ecstasy, the euphoria and, more than anything, desperate to give the boy holding her tightly to his chest a million memories of making love to her to replace the traumatizing, humiliating recollections of being raped by his step-sister, she vigorously leaned in and pressed her lips to his throat, down his neck, onto his chest underneath her's, his weakest spot.

That was all it took for him to follow her lead.

X.

"I'm so scared," she whispered, minutes after they were finished, cuddled together, her legs between both of his, her head on his chest.

"Scared?" He prompted, his voice as loud as a breath.

"That this will change me. Forever." She bit her lip, digging deep inside, to the ugliest and most vulnerable parts of her. "After what happened in high school, I did pretty much anything and everything I could to, I guess revert back to who I once was. Who I thought I was supposed to be. And we both know that didn't work but…" She paused to look up at him, shrugging slightly. "At least I was able to get back some semblance of who I once was. I don't even know if that's possible now."

His large, gentle hands rubbed her back slowly and softly. "But I thought you didn't want to go back to who you used to be?" He questioned, confused. "That's what you said. That you wouldn't want to go back to the person you used to be, that you just wanted to be happy."

She was nodding before he was even finished. "I know," she admitted. "I know I said that but, after the dollhouse, everything was different. Everything was so dark and haunted and blurry and it took me more than a year to realize that… it wasn't anything but me. I was the one who was different and I just wanted everything to go back to the way it once was. When everything was easy and simple and I was in control. I just couldn't be the person I was when I entered that bunker."

He accepted her admission, allowing it to sink in. "Why did we never talk about this?" He finally asked, nearly inaudible.

To his surprise, she already knew the answer to that without having to think. "You weren't there," she explained. "You weren't there with me and I needed you. You grounded me, better than any drug or pill and without you physically there I had to find a way to cope. I guess I ended up shutting you out in the process."

She felt his Adam's apple bob against her head. "Why didn't you ever tell me that?"

She leaned upwards, peering into his eyes now, his sad, miserable blue eyes, offering him nothing but the small, knowing gleam in her irises. "Why didn't you come to Georgetown with me?"

It was her turn to be taken aback by the fact that he needed no time to think her question over either. "I thought I was doing what was best for you," he confessed. "I thought you wanted space. You always complained that you were too dependent on me and that you needed to learn to cope on your own. I wanted to help you so badly but-"

"I pushed you away," she finished for him, sighing as she laid her head back on his chest. "I made you think I didn't want you there."

"I just thought I was getting your way. I thought if I gave you space, I could save us." He paused, running his fingers through her hair, before musing dejectedly. "Somehow I ended up losing you anyway."

She smiled humorlessly against him. "For the record," she declared sincerely, "I'll always want you with me. You're my safe place to land. There hasn't been a time that I haven't wished you were there with me, by my side, since the day you kissed me in this parking lot."

"For the record," he repeated, a grin finding its way across his face, "there hasn't been a time that I haven't been completely in love with you, since the day I kissed you in this parking lot."

She smirked against his chest, pressing a kiss to his bare skin. "Good," she remarked lightly, running her hand down his stomach once again.

"Actually," he amended suddenly. "I should probably correct that. There hasn't been a time that I haven't been completely in love with you, since the day I woke up to you spooning me, in room 214."

She flew upwards, her eyes wide as he'd ever seen them. There was a slight twinge of embarrassment hiding underneath her shock. "You knew that?"

"Of course." He snickered not-so-subtly, pulling her back into the circle of his arms.

She squirmed, pouting bluntly. "You let me think you slept through all that," she mumbled.

The cop chuckled now, leaning down to press a kiss to the stitches in her forehead, brushing her bangs back. "You were so cute, trying to pretend you hadn't been cuddling me the whole night."

"Oh, yeah, coming from the guy who innocently asked if I had slept at all?" She shot back and was rewarded with a wide, abashed smile.

"Okay, you're right," he agreed, his hand tracing circles on her hip. "We're both liars."

She smirked up at him, suddenly liking the term that she'd been identified as for the last seven years, when it was partnered with him.

"What is it?" He asked, noting the look beneath her eyes.

"Huh?"

"Something else is on your mind," he insisted, completely positive of his assessment.

She caved easily, still finding it incomprehensible how he always just knew every inner working of her brain. It was something she never would get used to but was no longer marveling at. "I'm just worried, that's all."

"About not being able to put this behind you? Because, Spe-"

"No," she cut off, a faraway look taking over the gaze in her eyes now. "It's not that."

He waited for her to continue. When she didn't, he gently pressed, "Then what about?"

"Becoming too different from the girls." She rolled her tongue around the side of her cheek, realizing how juvenile all this sounded. But this was Toby. He'd adamantly told her once she could tell him anything. That she was his, that he'd never think she was ridiculous or overly emotional or redundant. She didn't believe it at the time or maybe she just couldn't comprehend the idea that someone loved her that much, but either way, she held a ludicrous amount of confidence when she was in his arms and before she had time to contemplate it in her brain, her mouth was pouring out words that she'd only ever thought to herself. "When we were in high school and our lives were complete chaos, we were so connected, it was weird. I got to college and everyone was almost glad to be rid of their high school friends but I had such a hard time letting anyone new in. You remember that. The girls used to be like my family. When we were in high school, all we really had was each other. But now," she trailed off for a moment. "Now we're so separate and it's strange. I don't rely on them like I used to. I rely on you. But then I remember that I always did and it's just, this whole thing makes me feel so different from them. Like they can't relate and they don't understand me anymore and like they're trying but suddenly I'm an outsider, looking in, at the people who I used to know inside and out."

"Babe," was the first word that slipped out of his mouth, his voice tender. His soft eyes searched her's, understanding why she felt this way but feeling his heart break for her anyway. He wracked his brain for a response, but all that came to mind was the blatant reality staring them dead in the face. "Honestly, Spencer? You might. You might grow completely away from them. We don't know the future. We don't know what might happen. But what I do know is those girls love you, more than anything. Even Ali. Alright, they will always be your family and they'll always be there for you if you need them. Trust me, I know it."

She nodded, absorbing his words. She'd always trusted his assessment of people even more than her own. To the point it was almost unhealthy.

Even when she was so far gone inside of her own head, whether it be to drugs or trauma, he was the one who showed her right from wrong. He was her voice of reason. Her conscience. The one thing she could trust, above everything else, when her world was falling apart and there wasn't a soul in sight to rely on.

The true definition of her safe place to land.

With that thought playing through her head, on repeat, she leaned upwards and connected their lips one more time, slipping her tongue into his mouth.

Her safe place to land.

Her fairy-tale, once upon a time.

Her entire heart.

Her everything.

"I'm sorry," he whispered into her hair, his eyes falling shut. His words were no louder than a breath and had she been deep in thought, she knew she would have missed his apology altogether.

"For what?" The brunette instantly perked up, moving upwards from her position against his chest.

"For not fighting harder on staying here today." He offered her a heartbreaking, dejected smile, the guilt in his water blue eyes growing more prominent by the second.

"Toby," she murmured, staring up at him, both perplexed and baffled. "What're you talking about? You did try to get us to stay in."

"Not hard enough," he disagreed, his voice beginning to shake.

"Babe," she sighed, dangerously close to rolling her eyes. She fought the action, knowing what he was feeling was real, genuine guilt and her exasperation would not help. She worked to change her tone to an even level. "You had no way of knowing what was going to happen," she assured.

"I had an awful feeling about going there," he maintained still. "I felt like something would go wrong."

"But it didn't," she pointed out, a small, ironic laugh ejecting itself from her throat. "It didn't go wrong at all. Not in the end. Me and you are closer than ever. That's a good thing, isn't it?" To emphasize her point, she leaned down and placed a kiss onto the base of his neck, curling back up against him.

To her astonishment, her kisses didn't work. Not in the way they usually did. They were such a physical couple. They expressed their love in actions more so than words. Until recently, their I love you's only came in rapid succession when they were geographically apart. Whenever they were together, they both found their love language in affection.

Her mouth being unable to provide him comfort meant that this was something really weighing on him.

"I still should have known," he whispered after a second, his voice diminishing in volume once again.

She sat up, meeting his eyes with a defiant, discerning look in her's. "Why?"

"Because I love you," he stated, as if it were obvious. In his mind, it probably should have been. "Because no one knows you like I do. Because I learned to trust my instincts a long time ago. When it came to you and in life in general."

"Yeah, well, I knew that you thought it was a bad idea to go and I still chose to, so I should share in this guilt you have decided to take all for yourself," she declared, her tone light. She traced her fingers in circles around his chest, attempting to relax him, even just a little.

He offered her a cheerless smile, dismissing her statement. "You didn't think it would end that bad though. I did."

Her face changed, morphing into a somewhat dismayed expression. "Actually, I did."

His head snapped towards her. "What?"

She swallowed, adverting her eyes before coming clean. "I thought about the possibility of it ending badly too. I just wouldn't let myself really consider it happening though. Not once I saw that you did."

It was his turn to look at her with quiet shock. "What do you mean?"

"I wanted to prove to you that you didn't have to worry about me," she admitted, feeling the same guilt he'd been displaying moments before. "I was determined to show you I was alright. That I was getting better."

His reaction caught her off-guard. He slowly shut his eyes, bringing up one arm to cover his face, groaning exhaustedly.

"Tobes?" She called softly, after moment.

"Promise me, Spencer, that you will never think like that again," he stipulated, clearly frustrated. But still, his tone was so calm and his eyes were so loving and it was all verging on the edge of an oxymoron but it was still so Toby and somehow she still felt so safe and so loved. Before she could defend her reasoning for why she did what she did, he continued. "There is no limit in my mind to what I think you can do. I don't get apprehensive about things because I think you're weak or unstable. But if there really is something that we both think could go wrong, don't decide to do it in defiance, because you think you need to prove you can."

"Don't you get it?" She pressed, attempting to get him to see things from her eyes. "That's what I do. That's what I've always done. I have always pushed myself through any obstacle in my way to show anyone who doubts me that I'm strong enough-"

"Spencer," he cut off, his voice even softer now. "I'm not your family. I'm not trying to challenge you or bring you down. And I know, baby, I know, that this is not easy to grasp because of how you were raised, but I would never do anything to try to make you prove yourself or challenge you. Okay, you don't have to prove yourself to me. We could be cooped up in this hotel room for the next ten years and you would still be enough to me. You are everything to me. And all I want is for you to be okay."

She shut her eyes to hold in the saltwater threatening to pour out, as he hit nearly every insecurity in her mind. "I'm sorry," she choked out, her already raspy voice hitting a new level of guttural. "I'm sorry," she repeated as she threw herself back against his chest with reckless abandon.

"I'm not mad," he promised, wrapping his arms around her the second she was against him. "I just don't want you thinking that you have anything to prove. Not to me."

"I know," she whispered, trying to calm her emotions once again as she felt herself getting choked up.

He leaned over and pressed his lips to her forehead and she knew it was a lost cause as the tears began to fall.

"Toby," she murmured hoarsely, as he rubbed her back.

"Hmmm?"

"If you had such a bad feeling, then why'd you even agree to come today?" She peered up at him, her eyes genuinely curious.

He gave her a look, as if it were obvious. "Because, Spence, no matter what happens, it's still your choice. It'll always be your choice. I'd give up a limb if it helped you but I'm not the one in control. And I don't want to be." He chuckled softly, pressing a kiss to her hair. "You're still alpha. You'll always be my alpha."

She shut her eyes, his words eliciting a smirk now. "Yeah?" She prompted, her mood rising.

"Yeah." He nodded, returning her smile.

"Good," she quipped, her smirk growing wider as she climbed on top of his chest, pressing their bodies together suggestively. "I like being alpha."

His smile turned right into a smirk then too. Leaning up to kiss her, he whispered coyly, "trust me, I know."

"Tobes, can you get the door?" Spencer asked through clenched teeth.

He slowly got up from his chair, leaving her miserably sitting on top of the table, nursing her headache.

It was barely short of being a migraine, she concluded to herself, the pain too strong to be bothered to share her realization out loud.

She had woken up that morning with a pounding tension headache that relentlessly wouldn't let her go back to sleep. Laying there, passively, cuddled up to Toby hadn't forced the pain away and it hadn't helped with the ache circulating through the rest of her body either, as she was due for another over-the-counter painkiller.

She'd gone as far as to wake up her boyfriend and tried to kiss her headache away, but when the throbbing hadn't let up, she had to break off the kiss and resign herself to the misery.

The cop returned only seconds later, speaking in a gentle tone, as if her pain was caused by a loud noise. "Em's here to see you," he murmured quietly.

"I can see," she retorted flatly.

Her tone had little effect on him, aware that her irritability was solely about her headache. He leaned down and kissed her forehead, sweetly before sitting back down in his chair.

The brunette made her way over to her friend, not even bothering to hide her wretched expression, dragging her feet as she walked.

"Rough night?" The tan girl inquired when she was close enough, leaning in for a hug.

"Rough morning," Spencer corrected, her voice muffed by her friend's shirt.

"How are you?" Emily's eyes were filled with anxiety, clearly asking about more than the headache.

"Fine." The brunette nodded, her eyes shooting to Toby across the room, yesterday's events playing through her mind, everything he'd done for her flickering back to the forefront of her brain. She didn't quite understand how she ended up with such a selfless, compassionate, loving man, but she didn't care. He was her's and he was all she'd ever want.

"It's okay if you're not okay, Spence," her friend assured. "I can't even imagine how you must feel-"

"I'm fine," she insisted, realizing then that the last time her friend saw her, she was in hysterics, begging to be taken away. Working to liven up her tone, she attempted to force the frustrating ache in her head out of her expression. "Really, Em. I'm better."

The dark haired girl studied her for a hot second. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah." Spencer chucked slightly, sitting on the edge of the motel bed.

Emily took a seat next to her. "Does Toby have anything to do with your well-being?" She looked over her shoulder, peering back to the cop who was currently searching something on his laptop.

"Yes." The brunette nodded, smiling now in spite of herself. "Of course, he does."

Her friend returned the gesture. "He loves you a lot," she mused.

"I know. And I so don't deserve it."

Emily's expression turned south. "Spence," she nearly rebuked and for less than a second, it was reminiscent of Spencer's childhood nanny. "You, of all people, deserve to have someone who loves you unconditionally."

Spencer's smile turned into a grimace and her headache had nothing to do with it now. "I'm not so sure about that," she disagreed, almost inaudibly.

Seeing the brunette's stubborn streak beginning to resurface, Emily changed the subject without a segue. "Have you spoken to Aria?"

Spencer stared her, perplexed. "No? Should I have?"

"Oh." The raven haired girl's eyebrows pulled together. "No, I just thought she'd check in on you, at least."

The bruised girl still wasn't comprehending–and that was a foreign concept to her. "What's that mean?"

Emily looked like she wished she'd never even asked now. "Aria just got really upset after you left," she disclosed hesitantly, like she was telling her something she shouldn't.

Spencer blinked once, twice, three times, four. By the time she got to five, she pressed, "Aria got upset how?"

"She flipped out and started yelling at all of us, in front of what was left of that crowd. Said we were all at fault for what was happening to you. That if we hadn't always relied on you, maybe you wouldn't have been chosen to be kidnapped."

The brunette just stared at her for a solid minute on end, her mouth opening slightly. "What? W-why? What made her snap?"

Emily chose her words very carefully. "Aria had never seen you have one of your attacks before…"

The tan girl, quite obviously was trying to avoid upsetting her but somehow the words still managed to cut through her like a knife. Her stomach dropped before her brain could even catch up and it took her a minute to realize that it was culpability that was disturbing her. It was the fact that the girls who she even now still considered closer to her than her actual family, were falling apart along with her.

She felt like a drop of poison, slowly but steadily seeping into every single person she cared about's life and killing them, little by little. She felt like an awful friend, even if this was so beyond her own control. She felt like a terrible person for not even checking in on the girls, acting entitled enough that she expected them to come to her. She felt like a disaster for not even being able to keep her own thought process straight anymore, a feat that only had slipped away from her a number of times before in her life.

She felt like a murderer.

Emily interrupted her train of self-hatred. "I just came here to make sure everything was alright with you after yesterday. I was here last night too," she amended, glancing at the cop a few feet back, appearing seemingly oblivious to the girls' conversation. "But Toby said you were exhausted and passed out."

"I was," Spencer confirmed, as if she needed to prove that she wasn't avoiding her friends. Looking around, as if noticing for the first time the absence, the brunette asked, "Where's Hanna?"

"With Caleb, I think. I don't know really. I spent the night at Ali's. Hanna wasn't really in a great mood after Aria's tirade." Emily paused for a second before elaborating. "Aria sort of went off on Hanna especially. She said that if Hanna hadn't told you to date Caleb, we all would have been more focused on -A instead of relationship drama and you may have not been kidnapped."

Spencer bit her lip, knowing in that area, at least, she was guiltier than Hanna. "I'm really sorry," she whispered, her eyes falling into her lap. Shame overtook her body, almost overshadowing her headache.

The darker girl looked at her adamantly. "Spence, none of this is your fault. You're the one that we should be apologizing to-"

"No, Em, that's not true," the brunette cut off. "It's my drama and I have no business involving all you in it."

She meant it. This was her nightmare and her nightmare alone. She may not understand why she was chosen to be the one in the massacre, it may be a complete mystery what happened that night and, if she were being honest, a part of her didn't feel like she was going to get through this in one piece, but it was evident that her trauma was tearing her friends apart.

And she couldn't live with herself if she hurt them.

No matter what happened, no matter how isolated from them she may feel, she would never, in her right mind, allow herself to bring them down with her.

In the back of her mind, she couldn't believe she was really allowing Toby to suffer alongside her either, but she also knew, selfishly, that if he wasn't there, she would completely lose her grip on reality.

He was her lifeline, her light at the end of the tunnel, her fairytale and her safe haven. She didn't even know anymore where she ended and he began.

He was like her silver lining in this entire mess. The one thing that was still pulling her back when she felt like she was about to fly off the edge. The thing that still motivated her to get up in the morning, not matter what pain, physical or mental, undoubtedly awaited her that day,

"You should leave," the brunette murmured and she wasn't sure if it was the headache or the sudden insight of how many lives she was wrecking, but her stomach was cramping up and her neck felt hot and her vision was blurring and for the tenth time, she wondered if she didn't belong in a mental ward, more than Mona, more than Cece, more than Bethany Young.

"Spence," Emily called, her expression shifting to one of distress. Her head whipped around, searching for Toby in an instant.

He was already rushing over to them, not even meeting their friend's terrified eyes. "Spencer," he murmured, his tone even. Without an ounce of hesitation, he dropped to his knees in front of her, meeting her at eye level. "Breathe, Spence," he instructed, already knowing what was wrong.

When she didn't comply, he placed his hands on either side of her face. "Baby," he whispered, his breath hitting her pale skin. "Shut your eyes and breathe."

Somehow, peering only into his deep oceanic blues and nothing else, the wheels in her head turned and her brain kicked started back to life. Her eyes fell shut and she felt oxygen enter her lungs once again. Unconsciously, her body relaxed under her boyfriend's touch, as he ran his hands down her arms and back.

The first words out of her mouth weren't, surprisingly, to the man she loved and felt connected to with every ounce of her soul. They were to her best friend.

"This is what I was talking about, Em," she stated before her eyes were even open. Her tone now had gained a level of rasp that it didn't contain before.

The tan girl struggled to respond. "Spence-"

"I'm a disaster," the brunette stated, point blank, just as her eyes reopened, with a fierier gaze than even before. "I'm a ticking time bomb."

"Spence," Toby murmured, wounded by his girlfriend's words and the level of conviction in them.

She ignored him, knowing that if she let him seep in, if she acknowledged his tender words and his unhindered faith in her, she may never get what she needed to say out. "I'm going to blow up one day and I can't have you or any of the others standing too close. Go," she demanded, gesturing towards the motel room door. "Get out. Stop worrying about me, and take care of yourself. Tell the others to do the same thing. No, better yet, make the others do the same thing."

Now it was Emily's turn to speak, as there was nothing left for Spencer to say. But when she opened her mouth, it was obvious that words escaped her. "Spencer," the baffled girl whispered, her tone almost as dejected and insistent as Toby's. "I'm not going to do that. None of us are. We're going to all get through this. Together."

"Em!" Spencer snapped now, only stopping to catch her breath once again when Toby rubbed her shoulder gently. "You're not listening to me. I said-"

"Spencer, I don't think you're listening to me," Emily cut off and strangely, in the back of her mind, Spencer noted that it pleased her that her strong-willed friend still wasn't afraid to fight with her, just as intensely as she always had. Same as it brought her relief when her parents took Melissa's side back in the hospital.

Old habits die hard.

Old habits, even the most unhealthy ones, bring relief to the deepest pits of your soul.

"We're your friends and we're not going to leave you, no matter how self destructive you may feel," Emily insisted, pulling her out of her thoughts.

Her voice, dying down as the throb in her head began growing stronger, dully croaked out, "You have no idea what you're saying."

She met Toby's eyes just as the words landed on Emily and her chest hurt, at the unconcealed pain in his eyes. He hurt, seeing her like this, knowing this is what she truly believed was best, that her friends shouldn't be dragged down by her burdens too. He hurt, knowing what she was trying to do was to protect those she loved and yet, knowing that it would kill her if they actually did listen.

Before either of the girls could speak again, Toby was actually the one to end the conversation. "I think you should leave, Em," he suggested and his voice was not unkind. He sent Emily a sympathetic look and for a second Spencer wondered if she wasn't being entirely irrational, if he wasn't grasping their friend's point of view better than her's.

His hand rubbing her thigh alleviated her insecurity a little and stopped her from feeling betrayed, knowing that he was always on her side, against anything. Even if he didn't see things the same or understand where she was coming from.

"Toby," Emily gaped. "No, that's-"

"I'm not saying don't ever come back," he quickly modified and relief filtered into the tanner girl's expression. Somehow when Toby told her to do something, it held more merit than it would coming from anyone else.

Evidently, it wasn't just Spencer who trusted the cop to show her right from wrong, to guide her to good decisions versus the bad, self-destructive ones she was naturally attracted to. Evidently, it wasn't just her who trusted Toby, like a guardian angel, without reservations, without doubts or questions or fears.

He deserved to have so many more people look at him and see him as he was. A kind hearted, good natured, dedicated, protective, forgiving boy, who loved with every ounce of his being.

He deserved a hundred times better than her.

"I'm saying," Toby's voice pulled her back to reality, "this argument isn't helping anyone right now. Give it time and cool off and come back. Neither of you need a blowout fight right now."

Emily nodded, clearly persuaded by the cop. She stood up from her seat on the bed, next to Spencer. "I'll call you later, alright," she swore as she headed towards the door.

"Okay," was all Spencer offered in return, a small, abashed smile working its way onto her face.

It was a strange thing, to dread and fear pushing those you love most away, and yet, still actively do it. To have an unkindness inside you, an unkindness towards yourself, that lashes out towards those in your vision, towards those who want to help you, towards those you think you're protecting. It was a strange thing to love your friends and still, at times, wish they never saw you again, knowing that the less they did, the less chance there was of you hurting them. That every moment you were surrounded by people, was a moment you could ruin them. Your tragedies could drag them down, rip them apart, away from each other, show them every dark and disturbing thing lingering underneath your skin, show them exactly who they could be if pushed hard enough, show them exactly what they have been afraid of for all these years.

It was even stranger to know that there was someone out there, who loved her more than words or rationale or life itself. Someone who could look into her eyes and see every dark thought she'd ever had, and still call her their angel. Someone who loved her beyond reason and morals and truth.

Someone who would give up everything in their life to be with her, in spite of who she was. In spite of all she could turn out to be.

She was like a gun, spinning round and round in a circle, the trigger so close to being pulled, the kick just moments away. And whoever was in her path became her target.

Once again, her thoughts were interrupted by the boy with sandy brown hair, who was still kneeling in front of her. As their friend exited the motel, he leaned in and pressed a kiss to her cheek, before pressing another an inch away.

"You know, I wasn't saying you were irrational?" He asked against her silky soft skin.

"I know." She swallowed visibly.

"I never want you to think that I'm insinuating anything." He pulled back to lock their eyes together, pressing his forehead to her's. "I just didn't want to see one more thing cause you pain. Especially after what you said this morning, about the girls-"

"Baby, I know," she reassured, her voice barely a whisper. "I know."

Her arms encircled his neck, burrowing her face in her shoulder, and she was surprised when she felt him pick her up.

He carried her, as if she weighed absolutely nothing, over to the chair by his laptop, sitting down with her arms still around his neck. "Does your head still hurt?" He asked attentively, moving one hand from around her narrow waist to massage her temple.

"Yeah," she confirmed, no point in even denying it. It was obvious from her still unhappy expression and tense body language that she was experiencing discomfort.

"Do you have any idea what could be causing it?" He inquired, his lips softly pressing against the stitches in her forehead.

"Brain tumor?"

"Spencer."

"I'm sorry," she sighed, giving him a small grimace. "Just trying to lighten the mood."

"Why do you look like that?"

"Look like what?"

"Ashamed," he murmured, his voice gaining an edge.

She shrugged, leaning her head against his shoulder, her ears throbbing and her neck growing tired and the ache spreading to her teeth. "I don't know."

"You have nothing to be ashamed of. Just because you're not exactly the person you were before doesn't mean there's anything wrong with you. Emily knows that, Hanna knows that, Aria knows that. Even Alison knows that. No one expects you to be perfect right now, so stop expecting yourself to be miraculously better overnight."

She stared at him, his tirade catching her off guard. "They're snapping at each other because of me," she stated after a minute, though she knew that information was completely irrelevant to anyone but her. "Aria freaked out on all of them and they're not even speaking to each other now. They blame themselves for what's happening to me."

"That isn't your fault," he reaffirmed. "I get why Aria snapped at the others. I really do. But that doesn't mean it's up to you to fix it. It isn't up to you to still be their backbone right now."

Spencer snorted, closing her eyes against his shirt. "I'll always be their backbone." Before he could argue, before he could say anything else, she continued. "Just like you'll always be my safe place to land."

Smiling in spite of everything, the twenty-four year old whispered, leaning down to press his lips against her's. "Always."

"Babe," Spencer murmured quietly, soothed by the feeling of her boyfriend's hand massaging her scalp. Her headache remained persistent but he refused to give up. "Your phone's vibrating."

Shifting his leg from under her to pull his cell from his pocket, he causally took the call. "Hello?" There was a short pause before Toby's eyes widen faintly with recognition. "Oh hi, Martin," he greeted now, his voice only a little awkward.

Spencer couldn't help but smirk in spite of her pain. She loved him in every aspect, in every facet of life and in any situation, but she couldn't help finding him cute when he was forced to be, in any way, outgoing.

Already knowing this, already been teased about this a thousand times over more than half a decade, Toby didn't even look at her as he pinched her hip gently, upon seeing her grin out of the corner of his eye.

Before she could say anything or even wipe the smirk off her face, Toby's expression changed. "Thank you!" He murmured, his voice uncharacteristically extroverted. "I appreciate you calling me, sir."

As soon as he hung up, Spencer, still situated across his lap, deadpanned, "Sir?"

He gave her a look. "He's nearly double my age, Spence. I think sir is appropriate."

"Mmhmm," she hummed, pinching the bridge of her nose, hoping to end the throbbing in her head. "You're cute when you talk on the phone," she teased quietly.

Now it was his turn to deadpan. "Do you want to make fun of me or do you want to know why Martin called?"

Her muddled mind didn't make the connection until then. "Wait, is this about the apartment? Can we not move in now? The tenets changed their minds, didn't they? I swear, my luck is just–"

"Spencer," Toby interrupted, wrapping both his arms around her waist, pulling her tighter to him. Their noses brushed up against each other suggestively. "The apartment is ours. We can move in next week."

There was a beat of silence for approximately three seconds before the cop's throat was being strangled, his breath being cut off in her chokehold. She ejected something akin to a squeal, which seconds after was followed by a groan as the agonizing ache in her head intensified.

"Maybe we should get you to a doctor," he murmured softly, taking in his girlfriend's predicament for the hundredth time that day.

"I'm fine," she objected, but the ache did bring down some of her excitement. "Tobes?"

"Yeah?"

She opened her mouth before the words even formed on her lips, pondering for a moment. "Why are they letting us move in so soon?"

Toby blinked once before, very noticeably, masking some sort of expression. "People move into apartments quickly all the time."

She narrowed her eyes into slits, sitting up straighter now to peer over him. "I can tell when you're lying, Tobias."

He flushed slightly at his full name. "Alright, fine," he relented. "I don't know why the tenets are letting us move in so soon."

"Martin said at the open house it was going to be weeks, at least."

"I know." He nodded evenly. "But I really don't want to push our luck."

"Yeah, I guess," she agreed after a moment.

Already seeing where her mind was going, he disputed, "Spencer, you're not their charity case."

"Are you kidding me–"

"You're not," he promised, his eyes gaining a fiery adamancy she loved from the deepest part of her soul.

She rolled her eyes, her headache ripping a lot of the usual fight out of her. "If you're so sure, then call and ask why they're letting us in so quick."

Spencer knew in the back of her mind that really, when it came down to it, what truly bothered her about the idea of being someone's charity case, is the fact that it was a entirely foreign concept for her. She'd never really experienced people feeling pity towards her. Outside of the weeks following her abduction to the dollhouse, there wasn't a time she could recall when people weren't intimidated by her. She was Spencer Hastings. She was the bred to always be the best and the brightest, and when it really came down to it, as much as she hated to own it, as much as she prided herself on never being her sister, as much as she loved to claim she choked on the silver spoon, she had always been known as part of one of the richest families in town and that came with a certain confidence.

Even if she was the black sheep of said family.

She knew it made her self-righteous. She knew in a lot of ways, she hadn't entirely escaped the person her parents molded her to be. She was used to being powerful and sharp and bold and having that stripped away, having that taken from her in any capacity, no matter how much she tried to fight it, was a hard pill to swallow.

She could care less about the amount of money in her bank account. She had Toby and she had everyone she loved still breathing-at least, for the moment. Money didn't buy happiness, she knew.

But, in a lot of ways, it did buy confidence. It did create an aurora around her that she had barely realized, barely seen, as it had always been there. The way people regarded Peter and Veronica Hastings' second born, the way people saw the youngest Hastings daughter, the way people viewed her, had always been impacted by the rich and powerful family she was born into.

Even her friends realized it. Even the people she had lived through some of the worst moments of her entire life with said it, whispering in hushed tones under their breath, snickering and rolling their eyes while snapping back and forth witty retorts about the bottomless, Hastings bank account, all while fully realizing she was trailing right behind them.

"Well, it's the Hastings, so I'm guessing it costs more than your car."

"Not all of us have a Daddy that can write a check to make the boogeyman go away."

"You've never had to be charming. You get to act like a total snot-rag, 'cause Mommy and Daddy have a safety-net of cash to catch your fall."

"I told Yvonne that I was Green Acres and you were Park Avenue."

The last one, the freshest memory, the one of Toby and her and a girl who had invaded the sandy haired cop's pure heart, standing in the middle of the street, making small talk, snapped something inside of her. The memory stung her in ways she couldn't even articulate, especially now. Somehow the memory of that day, that specific moment in time, threw her stomach into tighter knots now, as she sat on Toby's lap, than it did as it was actually happening.

She never knew exactly what he meant by that quip. Whatever the meaning, it felt like a sharp stab in the gut and cracked Yvonne up like no other.

She remembered the words, "he's just kidding", which left Spencer with the impression that he wasn't just kidding and that the dark skinned girl worried as an afterthought that she would take offense to the phrase, and "we watch a lot of retro TV", which still made no sense to the brunette, whatsoever.

She'd never asked though and not even out of fear or embarrassment but because she literally hadn't even remembered it until this moment.

It felt like a different life, if she was being honest. But then again, five years ago in Rosewood also felt like another life.

Something about the memory shook her to the core. She'd been fine for all of four minutes-not counting the pounding, unrelenting headache-and now, she could feel herself slipping away all over again.

She supposed she should be happy because no memory from the massacre had come back yet today and at this point, after days upon days of repeated flashbacks, she should be counting her fucking blessings.

She wasn't. Because suddenly a memory of the boy she loved with every fractured piece of her heart, was forcing her neck to grow hot and her stomach to violently clench with a dread she couldn't will away and suddenly she felt an antsy trepidation, a harrowing scream buried inside of her, a fight or flight instinct yelling at her to choose.

"Babe, do you want to order in for dinner?" Toby asked gently, noticing instantly the change in her.

"No," she answered, her response quick and inattentive.

"Spence?" The cop murmured again, his concern rapidly mounting.

She refused eye contact, still trying to reconcile her confusion and the blind ache the comment sent through her with every single tender, loving interaction they'd shared since she woke up in the hospital.

It was ridiculous, she rationalized to herself, as she stood up from his embrace. It was ridiculous to feel so stung and so mortified and so self-conscious about an interaction that had occurred weeks ago, that was essentially null and void now, after everything that had happened since, after all they had been through again, after all that had been said and done.

Of course, if she were really thinking back to that day on the street, Spencer realized, with all consuming guilt and exhaustion, Toby had just been told the girl he still loved to his very core, was now officially with his best and nearly only friend.

Of course he had been angry. Of course he had been hurt. Of course he had been upset. He had every right in the world to be.

Maybe when you break up, you no longer owe each other anything. You don't have to be decent to each other. You don't have think of the other's feelings.

That all sounds so good on paper. But the truth is, how can you not owe anything to the person you said was your safest haven in this world? How can you not think of the feelings of the person who was your sole source of hope and understanding for years upon years on end? How can you not still try to do right by the person, who pulled you out of the deepest and darkest part of your life, who held you like a lifeline, who gave up everything for you to be alright, who showed you what it meant to love and be loved, unlike any other person in your life?

How could she really date his best friend and not realize the irreparable damage she was doing to their relationship? Whether they were platonic or romantic, how she not understand the repercussions of her own actions? Wasn't she Spencer Hastings? Didn't she meticulously plan out every detail of her life? Didn't she turn herself inside out for the people she loved most in this world? Didn't the pain she had inflicted, not only on Hanna, but also on the man she still loved with a stronger fervor than she could have ever conjured up for Caleb, ever drive home to her exactly what she was risking? Didn't it occur to her that her blonde best friend wasn't the only one she owed consideration to? More than a strangled apology–to which he'd instantly rebuffed–but a sincere heartfelt conversation?

She knew she would never have done that, under any circumstances under the sun. Because had she told him what she was about to do, had she ever sat down and talked to him about her feelings, had they ever discussed how it made them feel to see the other one move on, she never would gotten with Caleb Rivers. She never would have started the hurricane that threatened to rip apart everything. She never would have pushed Hanna to throw herself in the line of fire, the permanent wedge never would have been driven between the two girls, the fight at the party may have never happened.

And she may never have been kidnapped that night.

Handfuls of people wouldn't have lost their lives.

She wouldn't be a natural disaster, waiting to rain havoc everywhere in sight.

And all of this started with her.

Her and her, alone.

"Is it your head?" Toby asked, his concern for his girlfriend increasing by the second. "Is your headache getting worse?"

"Its fine, Toby," she assured, though her voice was flat. She hadn't looked him in the eye in nearly three hours, lying now in bed, with her back facing him.

"I don't believe you," he stated, his voice still kind, even when calling her on her bluff.

And she didn't deserve him. She didn't deserve to have someone like him love her.

And she didn't deserve to feel hurt or angry or betrayed, to hold him accountable for anything he thought or said while she was with his best friend.

But a small part of her couldn't completely let it go, couldn't entirely rationalize the hurt away and she didn't know if that made her angry with him or angry with herself.

"Let me give you a back massage," Toby offered desperately, being unable to see her suffering, feeling powerless, the same way he'd always had.

"Toby," Spencer murmured, her voice growing more and more stern by the second, only half focused on what she was saying to him. "I'm just tired."

"I can give you another painkiller," he insisted, his chair scooting across the carpet, already moving towards the pill bottle on the counter. "It's been a couple hours since-"

"I don't want one," she insisted.

"What about if we went for a drive?"

"I just want to stay in bed."

"I could run you a bath?"

"Toby-"

"I could-"

"I said I didn't want to!"

Silence filled the air, as her scream, her aggravated, furious, vulnerable scream, hung between them.

She hadn't yelled at him like that in years.

She had barely yelled at him like that in their first relationship. The notion that something was driving itself between them, that there was a gap forming in between their unbreakable bond, was both terrifying and heart-wrenching to both of them. It nearly brought the cop to his knees, she knew, to feel this wedge squeezing the oxygen out of the love that had sustained them through so much.

That was why he'd always ran away. That was why he'd always skipped town when they were about to hit the jagged, unforgiving rocks.

But, now, standing in the motel room with her, the notion that something was very, very wrong inside the girl he loved was even stronger, and it outweighed any other thing in his mind.

"Can I hold you?" He whispered after a minute of dead quiet, his voice inexplicably raw.

"Just leave me alone," she whispered, barely even looking over her shoulder to say the words.

She knew she was making it worse, cutting him deeper, selfishly causing him pain just because she hurt.

But after coming to the realization that all roads, roads that left almost everyone she'd ever cared about, heartbroken or shell-shocked, roads that got perfectly innocent strangers killed or kidnapped, led back to her, forced all other thoughts in her head to pale in comparison.

After remembering that day on the street, the singular thought that ignited all of this, Spencer just wanted to scream into her pillow and fall into a slumber in which she never had to wake up.

She realized then she was holding her breath and let out a violent exhalation, noting the lack of noise now coming from her boyfriend behind her. She heard him take his seat again before his laptop, but his eyes never left her back and she didn't dare to look at him now, knowing she had just driven a knife so deep into his stomach, driven a distance between them at record speed, destroyed probably any sort of trust he had in their relationship.

She knew if she looked at him, she would crumble. To pieces, bit by bit. Suddenly and all at once.

But when his eyes didn't leave her back, when she could feel his concern for her and his unyielding love and unconditional understanding, she could feel herself wavering, deep down wanting nothing more than to crawl back into his arms and tell him exactly what was going on in her head. To kiss him senseless, despite her headache–which was increasingly getting worse–and to make love like there's no tomorrow and they're the only people on this Earth and like a rapid fire explosion couldn't touch them as long as they were together, as one.

But she refused to allow herself to do that, to allow herself that reprieve, almost as if she didn't deserve it, didn't deserve to be happy when all she could feel inside was appalling and horrified and selfish and liable.

Almost as a distraction, acting entirely on autopilot, she grabbed her phone off her nightstand and yanked it off the charger.

She hurriedly fumbled to type into her search bar, Green Acres Park Avenue.

Instantly, the World Wide Web met her with several million results.

Green Acres Theme.

Green Acres Lyrics.

Green Acres! - Review of 1049 Park Avenue, New York City, NY - Trip Advisor.

Green Acres is about Oliver Wendell Douglas (Eddie Albert), an erudite New York City attorney, acting on his dream to be a farmer, and Lisa Douglas (Eva Gabor), his glamorous Hungarian wife, who is dragged unwillingly from an upscale Manhattan penthouse apartment and the city life she adores to a ramshackle farm.

The last entry, the one speaking on the premise of the show, clarified all of the brunette's questions and dug the pit even deeper in her stomach.

It didn't take much to put two and two together on the street that day, it didn't take a genius to figure out him referring to himself Green Acres and her Park Avenue together probably meant he was calling her a snob. He was taking a swipe at her. He, for a split second in time, took on the opinion shared with everyone else in town.

It shouldn't have been such a big deal. It shouldn't have dug so deep inside her. It shouldn't have made her chest ache as badly as her head and her throat throb, the way it always did when she suppressed tears, like she had to physically swallow them down.

But it did.

The second the first sob fell out of her mouth, Toby was already halfway across the room, done with asking permission to console her.

Both his arms wrapped around her and instinct took over as she flung herself entirely into his embrace, molding her body around his.

He pressed his lips to the side of her neck, his face lingering there as another sob fell out of her mouth, her chest heaving violently.

This wasn't about the joke anymore, Spencer knew. It couldn't be. A stupid, petty inside joke couldn't wrack her to the core this way.

No, this was about everything surrounding that joke. About everything she'd done that led to that moment, standing there, with the man she loved and another girl who loved him. About the choices she made out of stubborn pride, that took her down a path that led to isolating Toby, that led to damaging her relationship with Hanna forever, that led to completely annihilating her once only male friendship. About the days that led up to the massacre.

About how if she'd done just anything differently, she may have never been kidnapped.

And if she'd never been kidnapped, she wouldn't be on the brink of insanity right now.

And all those people would still be alive and well. Half wouldn't be deceased, half wouldn't be assumed dead.

Toby was still holding her to him, rocking her back and forth as if his life depended on it. His fingers sifted through her messy curls absentmindedly, as he whispered in her ear, "It's okay, baby. It's okay."

But none of it was okay. Everything that had unraveled in their lives, every awful sensation they were experiencing, came directly back to her.

She may not have killed all those people but she was responsible for it. She could have stopped it. She could have changed it.

She could have saved them.

She could have saved that boy, lying on the ground, bleeding out in front of her. The nameless stranger that she was too afraid to acknowledge, too afraid that someone might know him if she told anyone besides Toby. Too afraid that knowing who he was might force her to come to terms with the fact that he'll never grow up into he was meant to be. He'll never get another chance to fulfill his dreams or right his mistakes or give his loved ones two more minutes.

All the things she still had, that she was still selfishly taking for granted.

She could have saved Eddie Lamb. The male nurse, that had been her only confident when she was lost to everything and everyone. Including the boy now cuddling her like no tomorrow.

Eddie had been one of the only people who consistently looked out for her mental wellbeing. Who cared to always ask how she was doing. Who cared to look her over and make sure she wasn't on her way back to the funny farm.

He had maintained being the sole male in power who refused to make a romantic advance, who refused to see her as less than a person who needed help, instead of a girl who's barely legal body was warm and soft and inviting and more than anything, as everyone had made clear as day in the past, easy.

"All the pain and disappointment and loss, because you were stubborn."

Mona had spoken the words, almost six years ago, not even realizing how true they'd one day be.

"Baby," Toby whispered into her hair after twenty minutes, when she still had made no move to let go of him, to explain what was so wrong with her now, to even wipe her face.

Pulling back a little, she felt her mouth contort into a soft, barely there smile as her boyfriend wiped underneath one of her eyes gently with his thumb.

She swallowed hard, rubbing her nose, with uncharacteristic haste.

When she still refused to meet his eyes, the cop spoke again, his voice still as gentle as ever, though his patience was starting to dissipate. "Spence, talk to me," he implored. "What's going on?"

She shook her head, at loss at how exactly to explain this. That one memory of him and his almost fiancé, triggered a mounting of self-hatred? That she suddenly realized the repercussions of dating his best friend? That she was a mess and felt like she was falling apart at the seams, and part of her, a tiny part that she pretended didn't exist, was screaming out in her head that she was losing it entirely. She wasn't sure how long she could keep going, how much longer she could last before she gave up or completely snapped or blacked out all over again.

She tried to remind herself that she was drugged the night of the massacre. She knew that now. She didn't just black out. Her memory didn't disappear and it wasn't playing hide and seek in her brain.

It was stolen from her, in one of the most violent ways imaginable, and now it was playing peek-a-boo whenever she, even for a split second, thought she could be alright.

"Spence, you can tell me anything," Toby whispered, alerting her out of her own thoughts. "If there's something new that came back and somehow I missed it, tell me. Tell me and I'll do anything you need, anything it takes-"

"Toby," she cut off, shaking her head. With everything inside of her, she wanted to reassure him that nothing was truly wrong.

He thought something traumatic and harrowing had come back. He was in his own personal hell, assuming the very worst, powerlessly watching the person he loved most fall to pieces one more time.

Wasn't he sick of this? Wasn't he done yet? How could he sit there and still love her with every atom of his body, without being utterly exhausted from all the drama she attracted? How could he not be seething with resentment for upturning his entire life, once again?

Did she ever even ask him how he felt? He wasn't a robot and he wasn't made to love her. He was a person, who deserved better than a half crazed girl, barely clinging to the sideline of sanity.

He deserved Yvonne, who was kind and sweet and pleasant and brilliant and had a family who loved and adored him, as if he was their own. Who didn't bring him down, who could be the loving, devoted girlfriend he needed. Who wasn't jaded or moody or nearly insane.

The brunette took several deep breaths, the thought of the dark skinned, raving beauty, almost forcing her stomach to upchuck all over the bed.

Yvonne always put a bad taste in her mouth now, and she didn't like to acknowledge it, even to herself. How could she be so jealous that she couldn't even bear the thought of another girl her boyfriend loved without feeling physically ill?

What was wrong with her?

Before she had the opportunity to say anything else, her cell saved her, ringing at the most opportune time.

Toby sighed before reaching for it, glancing at the caller ID. "It's your mom," he stated, clearly discontented with the abrupt ending to their conversation.

Taking the phone, caught completely off-guard by the call, she answered in an unsure tone. "Hello?"

"Honey," Veronica breathed, sounding like she wasn't sure if Spencer was alright before hearing her voice.

"Mom?" Spencer narrowed her eyes in confusion, peering at Toby who was as mystified as her. "What's wrong?"

There was silence on the other end and the brunette felt her stomach do a flip, anticipation churning inside her violently.

"Spencer, I heard about what happened. Both at that apartment and in town," Veronica finally stated, her voice now collected and level, though her daughter could feel something brewing underneath.

The twenty-three-year old bit her lip, unsure how to answer the elder woman. "Yes?" She finally offered, attempting to hold back the feeling of defiance building up inside her.

"That was one of the most irresponsible things you could have done," the woman scolded, sounding downright livid now. "What the hell were you thinking? The doctor told you to avoid big crowds and what did you do? Go seek them out-"

Spencer couldn't take it. Not now, not today. Not any day as of late. She couldn't handle being scolded and berated, for simply attempting to live. She went out into public twice. Only two attempts to do anything closely resembling a normal event and both had blown up miserably. Both had caused havoc and something deep inside of her shouted, through all the overwhelming emotions, through both the old and new scars, the pain and the anger and the resentment, something deep inside of her cried out that this wasn't fair.

She didn't deserve to be admonished because she chose to not hide out in a hotel room like a recluse.

She didn't deserve to be kicked out of society, for things she couldn't control. For PTSD she couldn't understand and that she didn't ask for.

And she didn't deserve to have to listen to this phone call, she decided.

Maybe it was cruel. Maybe it was downright selfish and compassionless. But she felt no regrets as she tapped the End Call button on her phone, cutting her mother off mid-sentence.

Witnessing the entire thing and sitting just close enough that he heard majority of it, Toby sighed deeply and reached to pull her closer.

"Are you still mad at me?" He asked as he wrapped his arms around her thin body, swaying her slightly.

Her earlier distress fled to the forefront of her brain at once. Swallowing hard, she murmured erratically, "I was never mad at you."

"Yes, you were," he corrected but his voice remained gentle. "I know when you're mad at me, Spence."

It was her turn to sigh now, willing herself not to get emotional. "It's stupid," she whispered as she pulled back.

"Nothing that upsets you could be stupid. To me, at least," he insisted but he could tell just by her eyes she wished he'd drop it.

"I know." She nodded, her eyes dropping to the bed underneath them.

There was a long silence that dragged on, straddling the line between awkward and uncomfortable and just downright unnatural.

Before either of them worked up the courage to break it, Toby's phone went off obnoxiously, screaming in contrast with the noiseless room.

Standing up clumsily, the cop narrowed his eyes as he took in name across his screen, just as Spencer had a few minutes prior. "Hello, Mrs. Hastings," he greeted, turning back around to face the brunette.

The second he said her mother's name, she was climbing to the edge of the bed, straining her ears to catch any of the conversation.

When she couldn't hear a thing, from the less than two feet distance between her and her boyfriend, Spencer's suspicions were peaked.

Since when couldn't she hear a phone that was barely two feet away?

Sensing her frustrations, Toby glanced at her and instantly obligated when she mouth 'speakerphone'.

". . .got to be rational about this, Toby. She isn't getting better. She's getting worse," her mother was saying and Spencer had to fight the urge to roll her eyes.

It went deeper than just irritation at the fact that her mom believed so adamantly that she still belonged in the hospital. It was the fact that her mom heard everything secondhand and didn't even ask Spencer what had happened, from her own point of view.

The brunette had little doubts that it was her friends at the country club, possibly the same people who had actually been at Fiona's to witness her meltdown, that had filled Veronica in.

But how could her mother actually take their word at face value and not even ask Spencer why she went there? Why she was so tirelessly trying to suction her life back together? Didn't her mom care that she was searching for some semblance of normal? Or did the woman only care if Spencer made a public spectacle of herself?

Maybe she was being too harsh. Maybe she was on edge, for a million and twenty four different reasons. But whatever the motive, she felt like she was about to explode when Veronica kept talking.

"You need to get her to a therapist," the senator said. "A good one, that comes highly recommended." Toby glanced at Spencer, searching her face for her reaction. "Search for one in the area-"

"Mom," Spencer cut in. "I'm not going to a damn shrink."

"Toby, I called you," the woman reprimanded, her tone nearly one of betrayal, clearly taken aback to hear her daughter's voice.

"And you really thought you could have a private conversation with him, without my knowing? You overestimated the size of motel rooms," the brunette quipped, her voice without humor.

"Spencer-"

But she didn't give her mother a chance to finish. "You really thought you could go over my head? Tell my boyfriend to send me to a therapist, as if that'll solve all my problems? Is this your next step, after trying to keep me locked up in a hospital?" When her question, which was rhetorical, to be fair, was met with nothing but utter silence, she exchanged a confused glance with Toby. "Mom?"

"I think she hung up," the cop offered after another beat of silence.

"That's never good," she mumbled, too insulted to worry why the usually overly confrontational senator would end the call.

Toby's clear blue eyes watched her as she rolled onto her stomach again, burying her face inside one of the motel provided pillows.

Neither of them really knew where they stood at the moment. They hadn't had a fight—that almost would have been easier—but something went wrong and they still had yet to solve it.

Spencer sighed into the thin cushion, realizing none of her behavior had been fair to him and wishing more than anything she could shut off her brain for one day. Not receive any more flashbacks, not have self-deprecating thoughts that cause rifts between her and the man she loves most in this world, not have to deal with anything unpleasant. For once in her life she wanted to be happy and stay happy.

She didn't want to bring Toby down with her. She didn't want to hurt him or cause him this kind of duress any longer. She just wanted this to all be over and done with.

"I've had monsters under my bed for so long, that now that they're not there, I feel like I have to create them."

What she'd said to Alison still rang true and she wished more than anything she could change for Toby's sake, if for nothing else. She couldn't handle losing him again and she couldn't stand the hurt she was causing him.

She was so unfocused that she didn't even notice Toby had joined her on the bed until his hand began massaging the back of her head.

Groaning loudly, she peered up at him. "You should turn off your phone so my mom can't call back."

He gave her a look. "Spencer."

"If she can go days without checking in and then only bother after listening to a bunch of crap gossip about me, I don't think we're obligated to take her calls. Especially when she's acting like I'm insane and you need to get me under control."

"She's just trying to help," he murmured, sympathy for her mom leaking through. His hand found its way up her shirt and began massaging her bare back soothingly. "I know she sucks at showing it sometimes but she is trying her best-"

"Don't defend her," Spencer cut off, her voice not at all harsh. "Please, Tobes. Don't defend her right now."

"Okay," he said amicably, appreciating her softer tone after spending hours with her on edge. He leaned down to kiss her lower back before resuming the rubbing. "I love you. More than anything," he uttered after a moment. "You know that right?"

She chuckled indistinctly, thinking how ironic it was he was saying this even with no knowledge of why she was upset all afternoon. "I know," she whispered a moment later, because she did know. She knew that he must love her, a lot more than she'd ever truly been able to reconcile, in order to literally risk his life by running into that building, just to save her.

Just as it seemed he was about to say more, a knock interrupted them, much like the phone calls had too.

"Who is bothering us now?" Spencer complained through gritted teeth, as Toby peered out the peep hole.

A strange, almost comical, look cross his face before he turned back to look at her. "Your mother."

Before she could even process his words, there was another, more impatient knock, and acting completely on instinct, Spencer flung herself out of bed and tossed the door open.

"Mother," she greeted, looking at her, almost as if she were measuring her up for size.

Apparently the senator wasn't in the mood for greetings. "What is going on with you?" Veronica admonished as she moved her way into the room, as if she were entitled to their space.

"Excuse me?" Spencer shot back as Toby, in very much contrast with the two alpha females, shut the door quietly. "What's wrong with me? You haven't checked in on me once since I've been released and suddenly you think you have the right to scold me, like I'm six, for things I couldn't control?"

Guilt flashed across the senator's face for a split second before her eyes grew hard. "I had a lot of work to catch up on, Spencer. You, of all people, should understand that. You're in politics too. And your dad said he told you to call me."

"Dad told Toby that, not me, and last I checked, passing messages around secondhand doesn't count as caring."

"Of course I care, Spencer," the elder woman snapped, emphasizing the word like her daughter had become an imbecile overnight. "That's not the point-"

"What is your point here, then? To lecture me for having attacks in public? Is-"

"No," Veronica cut off sharply, and this time, her daughter waited for her to finish. "I'm here because clearly I'm not getting through to you over the phone and you need to see someone. Someone who can help you figure out this entire thing. Get the attacks under control. Help you get on with a normal, productive life."

There was a stretch of silence, where both Toby and her mother waited for her to say something, have some sort of reaction, relent or refute the suggestion but either way, do something.

Neither of them expected her to roll her eyes to the back of her head and mumble under her breath, "'get under control'", before breezing past both of them and heading towards the sink.

"Spence," Toby called as his eyes followed her movements. "What are you doing?"

"You were right, I need some fucking pills right now."

The senator's eyes widened with alarm and the cop couldn't amend her statement fast enough. "She's talking about over the counter painkillers for her headaches."

"She's having headaches?" Veronica repeated, somewhat baffled.

"She had them in the hospital too," Toby reminded, his voice reminiscent of Spencer's when she was talking down to someone. And then it become obvious she was starting to rub off on him when he couldn't resist adding, "Don't you remember?"

"Of course I remember, Toby," the elder woman quickly declared, shutting her eyes. "I just didn't know they were still occurring." Turning to look at the brunette, her movements slower now, Veronica stated, "This is even more of a reason you need to see someone."

Spencer took a deep breath before speaking. "Why?" She asked simply. "Because it would really do me any good or because you don't want the neighbors to talk about me anymore?"

"That is not the reason," her mother insisted sharply.

"Well I don't believe you really think it's going to improve my mental health or else you would have said it when I was in the hospital!" Spencer exclaimed, literally throwing her hands up. She may not have always had the best relationship with either of her parents but the one thing that had always been-and evidently still was-true, was the fact that she knew when they were lying. She knew when something wasn't right or when they had an ulterior motive behind their eyes. She knew that if her mom thought seeing a therapist was best for her, she would have thought of it a long time ago. "Mom, what aren't you telling me?"

"Fine," Veronica relented, her face still callous. "To put it blankly? If the cops come at you with any sort of allegations, it's not going to help your case that you have been a public spectacle and have reached out for zero help from any psychologist."

She knew it, she told herself. She knew that her mom wasn't pushing her to get help out of the kindness of her heart or out of motherly concern but for legal reasons. She knew it from the very moment the words left her mother's mouth.

But somehow it still stung and Spencer pretended to scratch at one of the cuts surrounding her eyes in order to hide the moisture, threatening to leak out.

Toby, though, recognized the cover up and moved right by her mother without a second thought. "Spence," he murmured, too quiet for Veronica to hear.

"I'm fine," she assured, her tone too quiet and too sugary to even begin to convince him.

Her mom didn't quite realize the depth of her daughter's emotions-then again, Toby's the only person who had ever realized Spencer's sensitivity-but still, her voice became considerably milder. "Honey, I told you once that most verdicts are decided in living rooms. I'm just thinking strategically. Take a preemptive strike. Avoid public places for a little while and see a therapist, and eventually we'll be able to put all this behind us."

"Us?" Spencer picked, her volume rising. "What do you mean, us?"

The senator looked taken aback by the inquiry. "I mean, all of us. You, me, Toby, your father and sister."

Somehow her frustration outweighed her self-preservation and she didn't try hiding any longer the crack in her voice or the wetness of her eyes. "We aren't going through this, mom. I am. You were not kidnapped and you have not been forced to live through flashes of that night. You're sanity isn't in question and last I checked, the cops aren't accusing you of anything, so don't act like we're all in this together, because we're not."

"Spencer-"

"I'm not going to see an effing therapist. Especially not to prove anything to the cops. So if that's all you came here for, the door is right there."

It was clear by the look on her face that Veronica wasn't used to being vetoed. For as long as Spencer could remember, what her mother said is what they did. Even with her lack of presence, she still controlled and dictated majority of things in both her daughters' lives.

Looking beyond her daughter, she eyed the cop standing behind her, somewhat warily. "You know, Doctor Barnes said it was your job to determine what was right for Spencer. Has the concept of therapy never crossed your mind, Toby?"

To both women's surprise, his response came out quick and even. "Not like this. I've never considered pressuring her into seeing someone to make her look better to a bunch of strangers. And I've never considered forcing her to do it unwillingly."

"Even if it were what's best for her?" Veronica pressed, her voice harder now.

"Do you know what's best for her?" Toby responded, his voice still just as gentle as before. It almost made it more difficult for the elder woman to swallow. Having a twenty-four-year old disagree with her and still keep his cool. "Honestly? Do you know what's best for Spencer or what's best for her case? Because I can promise you, forcing her to do something she adamantly doesn't want to do is the last thing that'll help her."

Oddly enough, as much as it baffled Veronica to hear him stand his ground, his words baffled Spencer more. How did he understand her better than her own mother? Neither Aria or Hanna could relate to this, as it was a no brainer that both Ashley and Ella understood them better than their respective guys. And that was fine. In fact, that was considered normal.

Males just don't get us, girls said all the time. No one understands me like my mom.

Somehow with Spencer, it was the exact opposite. And, for some reason, she felt lucky. There had been countless times in the past that she'd wished her mother was different. Countless times that she'd wanted to have the same level of connection and bond her friends all shared with their moms. Countless times she'd been overcome with jealousy when witnessing the relationship between her mother and Melissa.

How did Toby make up for everything she'd ever been deprived of, tenfold? How did he always manage to make everything feel alright, even just for a minute, even when she was so terrible to him? Even when she iced him out and punished him for things he didn't mean, for things he shouldn't be held responsible for?

How could someone love her so much when she felt like nothing short of an atomic bomb nearly every minute of the day?

"No one can guide us through this thing except Spencer," Toby was saying. "She is the one who this happened to. We have to trust her judgment. If we don't then she might as well still be locked up in that hospital."

She wanted to smack herself upside the head for snapping at him for defending her mom. He didn't deserve her irritation when all he'd tried to do was make things easier for her.

Apparently, Veronica had heard enough. "Alright, fine, Spencer." She shook her head, bordering on appalled. "You're an adult. You do whatever you like. If you say this isn't my mess, then I won't worry about it."

The moment her mom spoke, dread filled Spencer's stomach all over again and she suddenly didn't know how to feel.

How do you feel when your parent says they've thrown their hands up?

How do you feel when you essentially asked them to?

How do you feel when you realize that your own mother cannot figure out how to support you without controlling you?

How do you feel when you realize that the fault lines had been thrown around so many times, you don't even know who is to blame for how you got here?

She'd never been the ideal mother, Spencer reminded herself. Nannies had a large part in her upbringing and the only sort of affection she got was when she either was falling apart at the seams or when she proved herself worthy.

But at the hospital, after their heart to heart moment, she thought it might be different. She thought after everything, things might change. That maybe this tragedy would shift her mother's perspective a little.

It clearly had been in vain and as much as she would adamantly deny it aloud, Spencer couldn't help but realize that what she felt was crushed hope. She'd unconsciously let her guard down and hoped for once that things could change in a positive way.

She wanted to kick herself for allowing even an ounce of optimism to even form inside her.

As if he were a sign, Spencer felt a large hand come into contact with the small of her back, just as the door shut, signaling her mother's exit, and unconsciously she reached for him.

He easily lifted her up, pulling her tighter as her arms and legs both coiled around him. "I'm so sorry," she whispered as she buried her face into his neck.

"Spencer," he breathed, a slightly confused edge finding its way into his voice. "For what?"

"For taking you for granted. For not treating you the way you deserve." She allowed a couple of tears, more out of stress than anything else, to make their ways down her face and into the shoulder of his shirt.

"Oh, Spence," he chuckled, much to her surprise. His hand began rubbing from the middle of her back down to her thighs. "You don't get to apologize for anything right now. Not with the kind of stress you're under. I can't even imagine what this is like for you. I can't believe what you're going through and yet, you're still so strong. I am in complete awe of you, all day, every day. Okay, don't think that you need to ever apologize for having feelings."

It was her turn to laugh now. "I love you," she murmured, pulling back to look at his face. "You know that, right? You make me the luckiest girl alive."

And with her words, a light filled his eyes that led her to believe he knew what she meant. That he knew what it meant to feel that kind of love that changed even the bleakest circumstances for the better. That he loved her, just as hopelessly and selflessly and tragically as she loved him. That she was just as much as a part of him as he was her.

That he would love her no matter what else happened. No matter what the future held. No matter what else came to light.