A/N: So this was inspired by something Spencer said in 4x22 that kind of broke my heart a little bit. I wanted to see Toby react to it, and since I have a sneaking suspicion we're never going to actually see it on the show, I set out to write it. (I get it. I really do. It's not a relationship-oriented show to begin with, and on top of that they're dealing with four main characters whose love lives all need screen time… I get it. It's just frustrating sometimes, that's all. Which is why I say: thank God for fanfic!)
Just FYI – I also have another season 5 oneshot more or less written. It takes place a few weeks further down the line from where they are here, so I guess it could be seen as a sequel. Or not. Totally up to you. Anyway… just a heads up on what's coming!
Not Herself Mean
"Down these mean streets a girl must go, who is not herself mean." – Toby Cavanaugh
The sun was sinking into the horizon by the time Rosewood's most soulful young couple made it to the modest but comfy loft above the Brew. The plane had landed in Philadelphia hours ago, but they had gotten… distracted… along the way.
As heartfelt and intense as their reunion at the airport had been, it simply was not enough to satisfy the need that had been spreading through Spencer's body since before she got back from rehab. This deprivation was far more than just physical, but that would have to do for now, Spencer thought as she drove her SUV into the lone corner of an abandoned street.
Toby barely had time to look at her questioningly before she squeezed past the wheel, past the gearshift and into his lap. Without a word, she placed her legs on either side of his thighs and connected their mouths in a searing kiss as her fingers got lost in his hair. His surprise quickly melted away, and she could tell by the way he pulled her closer that his need easily mirrored hers.
They kissed feverishly for a few minutes before it became clear that they were headed for deeper waters. Without taking his lips away from hers, Toby tightened one arm around her waist and used the other to open the car door. He carefully maneuvered them outside and onto the backseat of her car. Spencer scooted back and waited for him to shut the door behind them before he crawled on top of her.
It was definitely a little more cramped than what they were used to, but somehow, in that moment, she couldn't consider it any less than perfect. Maybe it was the softness of his hands as he peeled her clothing off her, always so patient despite the urgency she saw in his clear blue eyes. In a way it reminded her of their first time – where she thought he couldn't possibly take her by surprise anymore with the depth of his gentleness… and then he did. He had no way of knowing the self-doubt she'd carried these past few weeks, or how it had left her feeling more fragile and shaky than ever before. Yet, it was as if he sensed it. With every kiss he brushed against her – her lips, her cheeks, her forehead, her chin, her neck, her breasts, her stomach and even her knees – she knew he sensed it. And when he finally pushed inside her and rocked his body tenderly against hers, it was as if he was giving her back a part of herself.
They lay there for quite some time afterwards, her head against his chest and his arms wrapped tightly around her as if he were afraid she would topple over the side of the bench. When she shivered slightly as a slight breeze tickled their still sweaty bodies, he reached out to cover them both with his jacket as best he could. They spent the first few minutes in sated silence as their breath evened out into something slow and steady. But then he made an innocuous comment about how she wore him out, which made her laugh, and she could tell by the pleased expression on his face that that was exactly what he'd been aiming for.
"You're so beautiful," he said softly, suddenly serious after more light banter. His fingertips trailed her jaw as his eyes skimmed across her entire face. "It's like every time I go away I forget how beautiful you are."
Then don't go away anymore, she wanted to plead. But instead, she said, "And I forget how you make me feel like I'm the most important person in the world."
"That's because you are." His fingers were raking through her hair now. "In my world, you are the single most important person."
Love for him overwhelmed her to the point where she could barely see straight. Growing up in the House of Hastings had taught her at a young age that she was simply one of the seven billion people living on this earth, and if she wanted to stand out she would have to excel. And in doing that, the only person she would ever truly be able to rely on was herself. She hadn't even realized how much loneliness this notion had brought with it, or how much it had isolated her – until him. Until he proved time and time again how she didn't have to try to be remarkable in order to be remarkable to him.
The mellow rumbling of his bare stomach against hers brought an end to their moment. She laughed, asking teasingly if he might be hungry. They pulled their clothes back on and went in search of something to eat. She had lasagna; he had steak. And she marveled at how whenever he came back, he always brought her appetite with him.
And so it was nearly evening when they made their way up the stairs to the loft, Toby dragging his roller suitcase behind him.
"So did you want to unpack first or…?" Spencer asked as soon as the door closed behind them. They had opted for a quiet night in where they could snuggle under a blanket and watch a movie.
"Nah." He smiled at her, knowing that if their roles were reversed she wouldn't be able to settle down until all her belongings were back in their rightful place. "Let me just check my messages and then we can relax."
She busied herself with his DVD collection while he made a beeline to the kitchen counter, where he'd left his cell phone before leaving for London. She was still attempting to figure out what she might be in the mood for when she noticed him standing unnaturally still out of the corner of her eye. And indeed, when she looked up she saw him frozen in his spot, his cell phone pressed against his ear and an utterly heartbroken expression stuck on his face.
She barely had to time to shoot him a concerned look when he dropped his phone to the counter and marched over to her. Before she knew what was happening he had lifted her up into his arms, causing her to reflexively wrap her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck.
He held her tight and pressed a kiss to her cheek. "You're not a horrible person," he said fiercely, before kissing the same spot again. "You're not."
Her heart stalled in her throat when she realized what he was talking about. With all the drama that had happened since, Spencer had honestly forgotten all about the message she'd left on his voicemail upon her return from Furndell. It was before his letter had explained that he'd left his phone at home. It was before she'd been convinced she hadn't actually hurt anyone the night Alison went missing.
Suddenly she was glad he couldn't see her face.
He walked them over to the couch after a moment of just standing there. He sat her down first before falling in line next her, so close that their legs were touching. He reached for her hands.
"Why would you think that?" he asked, pain lacing his words. "Was it because of the pills? You know I don't care about that."
She felt a little shaken, not having expected to have this conversation so soon after his return. "No. Yes." She hesitated. "Kind of."
He gave her a puzzled look, and she couldn't help but notice how the crestfallen gleam in his eyes had yet to go away. "Talk to me," he murmured, a twinge of desperation present in his tone. "Don't shut me out, Spence. I feel like I can handle anything if you just talk to me."
She felt undeniable guilt well up inside her. It really was unfair how she felt betrayed whenever he left, when it was always her actions that drove him away. He never, ever bailed when she made it clear that she needed him. It was only when she did something to block him from her life first that he felt the need to run.
"It's… a really long story," she began carefully. "You sure you're up for it tonight?"
He nodded, his eyes open and unguarded, and his thumbs running over her knuckles. She would never understand how his acceptance and understanding of seemingly everything that came out of her mouth somehow made it harder to fess up instead of easier.
"I don't even know where to begin…" she spoke wearily, knowing that, at least, to be true.
He started to say something – something that would undoubtedly be sweet and supportive and reassuring – but she cut him off, not wanting to hear it. Suddenly she was no longer able to keep the secret that had hung between them for weeks, like a clown's mask, mocking her at every turn.
"Alison's alive."
She watched as shock corrupted his features. Shock, and then resigned apprehensiveness.
"It's true," she hastened to explain. "We've all seen her. Multiple times. Ask anyone." Her eyes lowered and her voice went soft. "This isn't me going crazy."
His hands squeezed hers, pulling her eyes up to his again.
"I never thought it was," he spoke equally quietly. "But how is that possible?"
She shrugged helplessly. "We still don't know a lot of it. Just that the girl in that grave isn't Ali…"
"But why would she do that?" he asked in utter dismay, becoming agitated in a way that was so uncharacteristic of him. "Is this another one of her twisted games?"
"No," Spencer said quickly, shaking her head. "We weren't sure either, at first. But she's legitimately scared for her life. Turns out we're not A's main target… She is."
A slightly uncomfortable silence hung between them. Spencer sensed a question on his part that he seemed almost afraid to ask, and she had to swear to herself that whatever it was, she would tell him the truth.
"How long have you known?"
His voice was heavy, like he already knew he'd be disappointed by the answer. She bit her lip, feeling like a coward for not being able to look him in the eye.
"Since me and the girls went to Ravenswood for that magic show," she admitted faintly. "She was standing outside the barn when we got back."
He nodded slowly, an empty expression on his face. She sat there looking at him, hardly daring to breathe for fear that it would cause him to snap and rip her a new one. Not that it wouldn't be anything she deserved.
When the pause dragged on for too long, it was she who broke under the tension. "I'm so sorry, Toby," she whimpered. "It's just… We agreed to keep it a secret, to protect her. I wanted to tell you, I really did… I hate not being able to tell you things…"
He let out a long shuddering breath and turned to her, his hands reclaiming hers. He shook his head, and she noticed a resigned kind of amusement in his eyes – along with a lot of hurt and disappointment.
"I can't stay mad at you," he said, almost sounding defeated. "I just can't."
She said nothing. Was it crazy that part of her wanted to tell him to learn? Sometimes being with him felt like tainting him, like she was dragging her beautiful angel in white through the muddy waters that was her life. If she came out of this mess with her sanity intact – and by the way things were going, that was a big if – she knew it would be thanks to him. She could only she didn't screw him up too much in the process.
"I didn't start taking the pills again because of my grades or anything like that," she continued in a low voice, trying to get his mind off their relationship issues. "I wanted to get to the bottom of it. Not only for Alison… for the girls, too. I felt like it was tearing us apart."
He sighed. She felt such a high level of responsibility towards her friends, so much so that it bordered on unhealthy sometimes. He wasn't sure if they looked to her to fight their battles for them, or if she did that on all her own, but somewhere along the line she had accepted it as her responsibility to see to it that the other three were happy and safe. Or as happy and safe as they could possibly get.
It was one of the things he both loved and hated most about her – loved because demonstrated what a big heart she had, and hated because it caused her so much pain.
"You shouldn't be doing anything to help Alison," he said rather harshly. It felt wrong lashing out at the other girls, but in his opinion Alison deserved Spencer's loyalty like a child molester deserved a pat on the back.
When Spencer spoke, it was faint, hesitant, and the last things he was expecting. "She saved my life, Toby."
He stared at her in disbelief. "What?"
"I get that you want nothing to do with her," she went on, as if he hadn't spoken. "After what she did to you, I don't blame you. But I wouldn't be here if she hadn't…"
"If she hadn't what?" he questioned, half-frustrated, half-apprehensive.
"If she hadn't pushed Ian off that bell tower," she whispered.
He leaned back against the couch, suddenly grateful he was already sitting down. He hadn't even known Spencer all that well back then, hadn't even scratched the surface of the delightful, intriguing, complex persona hidden behind her striking appearance… and yet there were no words for how much it would have devastated him if she…
He squeezed his eyes shut. Apparently it still hurt just thinking about it.
"Tobes?"
Her warm hand against his cheek accompanied her soft beckoning, and his eyes opened.
"You haven't told me the whole story," he rasped, his voice sounding hoarse to his own ears. "Why would you doubt yourself like that? What did she do to make you…?"
Her hand dropped from his face and she shook her head wistfully. "That wasn't her. It was…"
A troubled look danced across her eyes, and it truly broke his heart to see how for a second, her world rocked underneath her feet, leaving her unsure, stranded, alone. God, was this what he had done to her? It scared him sometimes how she
seemed slightly more fragile since her stay at Radley, like the events leading up to her mental breakdown had scratched bits and pieces out of her previously stellar exterior. It wasn't that he minded being there to help her pick up these pieces; it was that it tore him apart how her own vulnerability frightened her, confused her.
"What, Spencer? Just tell me," he pleaded. "Please just tell me…"
She felt a surge of bravery as she looked into his deep, blue orbs. She took a deep breath and pulled herself together long enough to spit it out. "I thought… For a while I thought I was the one…" She swallowed. "The one that Ali was afraid of."
He threw his head back in disbelief, and she had to hurry to continue before he stopped her.
"It was the pills," she explained, feeling agitated. "Apparently they made me extremely violent, and I'd black out about it later so I never knew… I never knew…"
"Spencer." His voice sounded strangled as he spoke her name, and he was shaking his head like he couldn't even fathom this idea. "Listen to me, there is no way–"
"My parents thought I did it!" she interrupted shrilly. "They thought I bashed Alison's head in when I was on one of my highs! And I could have, Toby." Tears were pouring down her face now, like a dam had been broken. "I could have."
"No." He grabbed her by the shoulders and looked her in the eye. "No. I know you. You don't have it in you to…"
He couldn't even say it, let alone actually imagine it happening. She was shaking her head now, wiping the back of her hand across her eyes.
"You see the best in me," she said quietly. "You always have… But I have a dark side. I get jealous, and it makes me feel things, and think things…" She shook her head again. "You wouldn't understand."
"Why not?" he demanded, startled when he felt salt on his lips. He hadn't even been conscious of the tears that had leaked out of his eyes.
"Because you're too good!" she cried out, almost sounding angry. "You're selfless and generous and pure, and you're kind to everybody, and you'd never stoop to the levels that I've–"
Her words smothered into his shoulder when he pulled her against him none too gently. He realized his hands were shaking as he rubbed her back soothingly, pressing kisses against her forehead and hairline. He held her against him, waiting a few minutes for her to calm down a little before he spoke shakily.
"If I'm so good and you're so evil, how come you're the only one I ever want to be with?"
She didn't answer immediately. She just rested in his arms like a rag doll, wiped out by the span of her own emotions. When she finally spoke her voice was ragged.
"I ask myself that all the time."
His arms tightened around her and his words nearly got lost in her hair. "I'm going to tell you something I've never told anyone. Okay?"
She didn't answer, but he could tell by her even breathing that she was listening.
"That summer, when Alison set fire to the garage… Jenna went down almost immediately, screaming, covering her eyes…"
He swallowed, almost surprised at how much it still affected him.
"And I saw her lying there, and I... I thought about how much better my life would be without her, and for a second…"
Spencer didn't move, but her fingers curled around his arms in comfort when she realized what he was getting at.
For one horrible moment, he had considered just leaving his stepsister there to burn. He remembered how much he hated her, and saw this opportunity – however ghastly – as a way to escape her clutches.
But he hadn't. He had gone for her, scooped her up in his arms and risked his own life to save the person who had caused him so much pain and misery. And he had to believe that that was who he really was. He had to believe he was the boy that saved his stepsister, and not the one who contemplated leaving her to die an utmost painful death… even if deep down he knew he was both.
He took a deep breath to get his emotions under control before gently pushing on her shoulders to make her look at him. "I know your heart, Spence. It's loyal and brave and strong. And yes, it has a few flaws, but whose doesn't? And if you doubt, ever, the good that's inside you, you remember how you took pity on a guy that everyone scorned."
Her heart ached when she realized he was talking about himself. "I didn't take pity on him," she protested, her voice weak but her tone firm. "I fell in love with him."
He smiled, using his thumbs to wipe the wetness from her cheeks. "It's not our thoughts that define who we are," he told her softly. "It's our actions. And I don't know anyone who goes as far as you do for the people you love."
Her dark, chocolate eyes held on to his in a way that seemed almost hopeful, and it caused an irrational flash of anger on his part. Hadn't her mother ever told her this?
Spencer always looked at him like he was a three-legged puppy at any mention of his parents, but it was at moments like these that he didn't doubt that he'd gotten the better end of the deal. Sure, his father was useless, and his mother was dead… but at least she'd been around long enough to teach him the basics of self-worth, respect and kindness to his fellow man. Her loving words and gentle guidance was something he carried with him every day – he honestly couldn't imagine who he'd be without it.
While he had no doubt that Spencer's parents loved her every bit as much as his mother had loved him, they had always failed to prioritize parenthood in their busy lives. They had failed to notice how at least one of their daughters – probably both – had been starved for their attention, and subsequently would have done anything to gain their approval. They had left their offspring to be raised by nannies, by women who were paid to stay with Melissa and Spencer while they longed for their own children back home. These girls had been brought up to sit still, stand strong, work hard. Toby had never really allowed himself to think about how little time that left for family dinners, bedtime stories and morning snuggles.
"Spencer, I'm sorry," he murmured, blinking back the moisture that was once again threatening to escape his eyes. "If I'd known this was going on with you, I never would have… It seemed like the right thing to do at the time but now I…"
She shook her head, reaching out to hold one of his hands in both of hers. One hand connected their palms and her other hand curled around his wrist. She didn't look at him when she spoke.
"I pushed you away."
"Your mom said they were taking your phone, that I couldn't talk to you or see you anyway," he continued quickly, feeling she deserved to know all of his reasoning. "The thought of sitting at home, waiting days, weeks for you to call me… it seemed unbearable. So I thought I'd make myself useful." He sighed, still distraught. "It was selfish, I realize that now. I'm so sorry."
Her hands left his and curled around the collar of his shirt. He was astonished to see tears glisten his eyes as she smiled and said, "Just shut up and kiss me, okay?"
He did. He pulled her all the way in his lap, his lips hungrily searching out hers. Their mouths met in a series of explosive kisses, and he marveled at how it all felt both exciting and comforting at the same time. He loved every part of her with every part of him, and he would have told her so if his knew how to produce a sentence in this moment. Instead he tried to show her through this – through his motions and touches and his kisses – and he could tell by the way her fingers caressed his face that she'd gotten the message.
And suddenly, she laughed breathily against his lips, and it was as if a ripple of pleasure spread across his entire body. He knew this only happened when she felt exceptionally happy – so much so that she couldn't hold back the physical reaction of laughter even when she was kissing him.
She pulled back after a moment and smiled into his eyes, her thumbs brushing his cheeks lovingly. He kept her close, unable to bear the idea of parting with her long enough to work the DVD player.
"You ready for movie night?" he finally asked, his forehead still resting against hers.
She nodded, and he gently moved her off his lap so he could get up. "You pick the movie. I'll go make us some popcorn."
He watched her as he moved around in the kitchen. His beyond beautiful, beyond intelligent girl… who was so flawed and yet so unbelievably perfect. He wished she could see herself through his eyes, if only for a moment. Her life would be so much less of a struggle if she could only see herself the way he saw her.
He knew it wasn't over. It would take quite time before they would be able to move past all this, the personal stuff as well as the general drama. They still had a lot to talk about, and he had a feeling the situation with A would only escalate now that Alison DiLaurentis was back in the picture.
But he also knew that he loved her, more than his next breath. He couldn't imagine his life without her, and he couldn't think of anything she could do that he wouldn't be able to forgive. And in the end, that had to be enough.
He handed her the bowl of popcorn, and in return she smiled and lifted up corner of the blanket he was currently cuddled under, inviting him in. He pulled her close, and she curled into him, and he pressed play.