a/n :: hello! I own not an inch of PLL-ness.

IMPORTANT - - slight trigger warning on this one, friends. There's nothing graphic or over-the-top about it (at least that I can identify), but there are some mild allusions to abuse of the physical/sexual nature, and I never want to hurt a reader with something like that. Please message me if you want more details before reading, or if you think I need to up the disclaimer with something stronger. Hopefully it won't be a problem for anyone, but that isn't something I'd want to take a chance on. Thanks!

"Damn it."

He stopped abruptly, guilt and devastation mingling into one horrendous knot of self-loathing. She sat only a few yards away, absolutely breathtaking in a navy and white sundress, her shoulders squared in determination against the rapidly cooling twilight. Looking at her was like looking at a glittering mirage. She was too good to be true, and he...well, he'd done the unthinkable.

It wasn't like him to lose track of her this way. From the second he'd first experienced the real Spencer Hastings - golden brown eyes, a radiant laugh, the sharpest of intellects, an impetuous will, and an extraordinarily beautiful heart - she'd been permanently branded into his memory. The effect was compounded with time, not just because he loved her more and more with each passing second, but also because of the constant whirlpool of danger and torment that followed her so closely, the resounding calamity that was trapped within her shadow. Even now, with those disastrous days behind them at last, it was still the undeniable truth; she was so deeply embedded into the fabric of his mind that he never had a chance to be forgetful, not even for something as trivial or commonplace as a promised dinner date. On a normal day, he would have spent each insufferable hour of his long shift in fidgety anticipation for this very moment.

Sadly, this had been anything but a normal day.

He swallowed another round of curse words and shuffled forward with reluctance shrouding his every step. As much as he loved her - and as much as she deserved a massive apology - the thought of being near her right now was practically intolerable. His head was jumbled with a consuming darkness that had the power to drag him right over the edge. The last thing he wanted to do was to drag her with him.

If she was surprised to finally see him approaching after so much time had passed, she didn't let on. Her gaze was unreadable and her posture remained ramrod straight.

"I'm sorr—"

A pale, slender hand rose to cut him off. "Are you okay? Did something happen to you tonight?"

"I'm fine," he spoke quickly in what could best be described as a half-truth. "I should have called you, Spencer. I would have, it's just…we were short on guys and I…"

His voice tapered off and his Adam's apple bobbed with repressed emotion. He could see it again, the pain on their innocent faces, their marred skin and lifeless eyes, all of it coming back to him in a haunting replay.

"Toby?" She was standing before him now, her fingers cautiously drifting along his sleeve.

He sucked in a rickety breath, willing his precarious temperament into submission. "I'm sorry for making you wait. There's no good excuse. I should have remembered to call and I didn't."

Her glossy hair swished around her as she dismissed his apology with an immediate flick of her head. "It's okay. I figured that it was something beyond your control. I knew you wouldn't purposely stand me up."

Toby eyed her warily, finding it much too hard to believe that she wasn't more rattled by his negligence. "But, Spence…after everything you've been through, everything that's happened…you deserve more than that."

"After everything we've been through—" she shook her head again, her thumb grazing his chin as she watched him with bruising sympathy. "Toby, with everything we've been through together, don't you think I can see when you're hurting? Something bad went down tonight, didn't it?"

He looked away, examining the specks of gravel that dotted the pavement. He was ashamed of his own pathetic transparency and there weren't words for what he wanted to tell her. All he knew is that she was worthy of everything that their date was supposed to be – a cozy dinner, a lit fireplace, an evening of laughter and lightheartedness. He despised the idea of weighing her down with a new source of anxiety, and that was bound to be the result when he felt this thinly spread.

"C'mon," she whispered into the cricket-filled night, "give me your keys, please."

"No, I should…I should be alone. I'll be terrible company."

Spencer rose on tiptoe and pressed a steadfast kiss to his cheek. "Sorry, but that's not happening. You're coming with me, Officer."

Two of her hands enveloped one of his, and he had no choice but to follow as she began to tug him toward his designated parking spot. He wasn't really expecting her to drive, but he was too tired to protest when she scooped the key ring from his pocket, angling him toward the passenger side with some gentle prodding. Not a word passed between them as she directed the clunking truck along the twinkling summer streets. He couldn't even muster the energy to express his confusion when he realized that their destination was her house. It didn't matter – she sensed it anyway as they pulled up to the meticulous yard, divulging the details without being asked. "My mom's schedule got rearranged again, so she'll be in Harrisburg for an extra night or two."

Toby nodded mechanically. There was nothing unusual about her explanation, a fact that still had the potential to make his blood boil some days. It didn't matter how many times the Hastings had almost lost their youngest daughter in a variety of near misses over the years, the most recent of which had culminated in a series of terrifying events occurring just a few weeks ago. It had only manufactured a temporary sense of alarm and urgency in the pair of them, and then nothing. As soon as the threat of A had been neutralized, Peter and Veronica were as absent – and as separated—as ever.

But in moments like these, Toby was selfishly appreciative for the limitless independence that they'd granted to Spencer. She put his truck in park and led him through the kitchen door without a shred of apprehension or discomfort, her hand never straying from his, her voice floating around him with hypnotizing warmth as she offered to make him tea or heat up some leftovers. He sagged against the island and declined with an indifferent murmur. His appetite had abandoned him hours ago. In all reality, he probably wouldn't be able to keep his food down anyhow.

Spencer chewed on her lower lip, implicit concern wedged between her eyebrows. "If you want to talk about it…about whatever it is that happened during your shift, you know I'll listen, right?"

"I can't." A familiar sadness blazed across her face at those words, and Toby hurried to clarify his statement as soon as he recognized the place she'd gone to inside of her head. "No, Spencer, it isn't like that. I can tell you, but…I'm not ready. It's…"

He inhaled sharply, unable to produce another coherent thought.

"Okay. No talking." She folded his hand more compactly into hers and nodded toward the staircase. "I have an idea for what we can do instead."

He wasn't sure what she was getting at, but he trailed behind her nonetheless. They were in her bedroom seconds later – her palms pushing against his shoulders until he sank into the indulgent red chair, the tips of her fingers dipping to unknot his uniform tie – when the first real shockwave of trauma struck him. He recoiled away from her touch with a sudden reeling force, plagued by a vicious flash of upheaval that came without his sanction.

She mirrored his actions with a startled gasp, her eyes large and frightened as she stumbled backward. "What—what did I do..? Are you—"

Toby shivered against the menacing litany of his memories, shoving those poisonous thoughts down while simultaneously reaching for her with frantic insistence. "No, no, you didn't do anything wrong, Spencer, I promise. It's me, I…I'm sorry."

With marked hesitance, she allowed his hands to lock around both of her wrists as he pulled her toward him again. He carefully steered her onto the arm of the chair, close enough that her long legs were dangling against his, but ultimately incapable of risking anything more intimate than that. Spencer cleared her throat and tried to speak past her cluttered emotions, palpable bewilderment still contorting her features. "I know you don't want to talk, but…but I'm really worried about you, Toby. What was that?"

He sighed slowly, tightening his mouth as he searched for the right thing to say. "I don't think…I can't do this tonight…" he tilted his forehead in the direction of her perfectly tidy bed, his heart throbbing with internalized disgust, "…maybe I should just go home."

"Hey," she hummed softly from above him. Her hands fluttered lightly around his jawline, utilizing all of the tenderness in the world to align his gaze with hers. "I'll take you back to the loft if that's really what you want, no questions asked. But, Toby…that wasn't…that wasn't an attempt to get you into bed. You're always saying how scratchy and stiff that uniform is, so I thought you might start to feel more like yourself if you changed. And your hands are so cold…you've been shaking on and off from the moment you came out of the station. I could – if you want, of course – run a steam shower for you. It's supposed to be relaxing."

He blinked several times with a monstrous flare of embarrassment, his skin burning as he dismantled the warning bells that were chiming in his head. He hated to burden her when his mood was so ugly and unpredictable, but the notion of sitting alone to stew in his empty apartment was rapidly losing its appeal. "Are you…are you sure that you want me to stay? I would understand if you didn't."

"Do you want to stay? Because if it were up to me, you'd never leave. Not tonight. Not any night."

Toby immersed himself in her generous cinnamon eyes, knowing his answer before he could even find a way to articulate it. He nodded, his hand tentatively cupping her knee. "Yes. And I'll take you up on that shower too."

Relief traveled through her with a noticeable exhale. "Okay. Wait here and I'll get everything ready for you, alright?"

She left a whisper of a kiss at his temple, then slid off the arm of the chair without another word. Toby buried his head in his hands as soon as she'd made her exit, silently begging himself to get it under control. He knew how scarred she was, knew firsthand how damaging the last two years of her life had been. He had no right to add to that, not when she'd just barely emerged from the worst of it. Spencer needed someone she could count on. She needed someone who was stable enough to offer her a dependable foundation while she found a way to re-build a life without A. If he was going to be that person, he had to rid himself of whatever past horrors were currently trying to leech their way back into his psyche.

When she came back into the room, he'd already stripped down to his undershirt and boxers, being sure to keep his uniform in a neat little stack on the ottoman. Spencer averted her eyes timidly before murmuring, "you can go in whenever you want...I set a towel out next to the sink for you."

His heart stuttered with a disorienting blend of love and remorse. He moved toward her without thinking twice, detesting the fact that his bizarre behavior had created such uncharacteristic shyness in her. Tucking an errant strand of hair behind her ear, Toby bent lower so that their noses met, his fingers scraping along her ribcage. "You're coming in too, right?"

"I thought you might want your privacy," she returned delicately, failing to hide her pinched expression. "If you need time to clear your head or…"

His grip tensed, bunching the filmy material of her sundress in his hands with uncalculated intensity. "I know I'm sending you mixed signals. I'm sorry."

"No," she turned her head briskly from side to side. "Don't say that. I'll do whatever you want me to do. It's up to you."

He kissed the top of her head before leaning away from her. He took great precaution, gingerly easing the dress up over her arms and then draping it across her bedspread. "This is what I want."

His lips dusted over hers in a short, chaste caress. She smiled somberly and found his hand once more. "Okay."

They wrapped themselves in matching fluffy towels, neither of them breathing a word as Spencer opened the shower door and motioned for him to step through the fogged glass. When he turned back to locate her a moment later, it was with catastrophic results—her downturned mouth was wobbling as she faltered on the other side of the doorway. Despite the circling steam that surrounded them, she was frozen to the spot, utterly immobilized.

"Spence? What is it?"

"Nothing," she volleyed back at him in a panicky rush. Before he could refute the blatant lie she'd just told, she was striding into the enclosed space with abrupt gusto, heaving the door shut with much more effort than necessary.

She volunteered nothing else, and the stillness clawed at his conscience. He had no reasonable guess as to what had set her off, but given the circumstances, it certainly had to be his fault in one way or another. She sat on the very edge of the bench seat and huddled forward over her knees without as much as a glance in his direction. After a short eternity, she gradually loosened her muscles into relaxed compliance, easing bit by bit until her back met with the wall beside him. It was only then that she turned her doe eyes up to greet him, a brimming repentance spilling from her dismayed expression.

"Sorry. I thought that would be easier than what it was," she mumbled hoarsely.

His hand smoothed over the ponytail that she'd yanked into place, trepidation warring through his stomach. "Why are you apologizing? I'm the one who's made everything—"

"No, Toby," she corrected hastily, "this wasn't you. It's not even about tonight. I…I got trapped in here by myself once, a while ago. It was A, but I don't know if it was Mona who did it, or—or…"

"Hey, it's okay," he countered without pause, doing everything he could to spare her from elaborating on what came next. The difficulty of saying that name aloud still took a lot out of her, and his protective instincts far surpassed the levels of anger and distress that were also battling for dominance. "It's all okay now, I promise. I just…I had no idea. You never told me that."

She avoided his gaping look of concern. "I know. It…it was a few days after I found you here on the night of our anniversary and—and they made it seem like…"

Her lip quivered and her voice stalled out. Toby reached for her automatically, his arms enveloping her bare shoulders as he kissed the side of her head. "I'm so sorry, baby. I didn't know, or I would have never asked you to do this."

She wilted further into his body, her words reaching him with gritty vulnerability. "That's exactly why I didn't tell you. I had to make myself do it. Because if I…if I don't face these things now, I'll live with the fear forever. And that's not what I want."

His throat went dry as he allowed himself to fully absorb the astounding strength that she possessed. It seemed impossible for any one person to be this resilient, this indescribably courageous. "You're so brave, Spence. You never fail to amaze me."

"I'm not that brave. I just knew that I could do it as long as you were with me."

Toby held onto her with all that he had, her quiet admission settling somewhere deep inside of him, mending a volatile piece of his fatigued heart. He didn't say anything in the moment. They stayed in that exact position – his arms looped around her slim figure, her face buried in the juncture of his shoulder – until the shower's programmed sauna settings clicked off and the mist around them faded away. Even then, he waited.

When she suggested a cup of chamomile tea this time, he accepted with earnest gratitude. They sat side-by-side on top of her comforter, nursing their steaming mugs, their legs woven together in front of them. He watched her zealously as she dunked her tea bag in and out of the hot water. Everything she did was seamless, perfect. She was gorgeous without trying, lounging against a throw pillow with her hair drying in dark ringlets, wearing that silly anchor t-shirt of his that she refused to replace. She was the beacon that called him to shore. There was no question as to where he belonged, especially on his worst days. If there was anything that could sustain him, anyone who could make sense of it all, it was her. It was always her.

"Spencer?"

Her complete concentration was on him in an instant. "Yeah?"

"About what happened earlier," he swallowed uncertainly, struggling for the right way to force the truth out of himself, "it's really…really hard for me to say this out loud, but it wouldn't be fair for me to keep it from you."

She instinctively reached for his hand before stopping herself with sudden indecision. Toby met her halfway, readily accepting the contact of her skin on his.

"I think I'm okay for now, but I'll let you know if that changes, alright?"

Spencer nodded up at him, infinite understanding painted in her amber eyes.

He stroked the back of her incredibly soft hand and let out a weighted sigh. "Several of the guys called off today, so we were short-staffed to begin with…I was trying to wrap up some old paperwork, so I didn't respond to the call that came through…something routine, a minor traffic accident I think. It was just a few minutes later that a second call came down the line, a domestic disturbance phoned in by a neighbor on the opposite end of town. Evans was the only other guy around, so I went with him. The dispatcher didn't give much detail. I thought I'd be back in plenty of time."

A tremor ran through him as he sipped his tea. His eyelids came together, deliberately shutting himself off from her until he could finish the next part. "We found the kids first. Two of them, both with black eyes…and the wife…she was upstairs on the bed, sobbing. Evans had already radioed for the paramedics, but I knew. I knew without having to hear it from them. I could tell just by looking at her."

Spencer squeezed his hand with remarkable gentleness. He let his eyes wash over her again, his jaw clenching at the overwhelming heartbreak in her gaze.

"It…it messed me up more than it should have…and I know it's because of my past. To see someone else in that place, helpless…trapped…" He choked back a betraying sniffle, trading his grief for polluted rage. "It's probably a good thing the bastard was gone when we got there. I would have killed him right then and there."

He knew that he'd stunned her with that vindictive declaration, but she didn't react outwardly. "Has…has he been caught?"

"Yes," Toby muttered wearily, "he was in a bar just a few blocks away, shooting pool and chugging a beer, not a care in the world. How…how can it be so easy to do that to another human being, to destroy your family like that and…and just not give a damn about it…?"

Fleeting dread spread through him when Spencer wormed out of his grip, but she was quick to deposit both of their teacups on the nightstand and turn back to him, her arms beckoning him forward. He let his body go slack against hers, tears falling unchecked into the safe harbor of her neck. The low tone of her pacifying voice washed over him as her hands migrated in rhythmic waves against his back and through his short hair. "I don't know, Toby. I don't think I'll ever know. But if I could, I'd take it all away…for them…for you. You're so good, so pure…and I love you so, so much. I wish—"

She cut herself off with a broken sigh. "I don't know…I wish I could make it better."

"You do," he answered roughly, clutching blindly at her shirt, "every day, Spence, you do."

Her only response was to drop a kiss at the top of his head and fasten her arms more definitively around his broad frame. His back began to ache with the awkwardness of their half-upright embrace, but he couldn't bring himself to release her. Instead, he made a move to guide her downward onto the mattress. Her palm glided against his elbow before catching him more firmly around the wrist.

"Toby…are you sure?" Her sparkling copper irises were wide with worry. "I can sleep in the guestroom if you want, or even curl up in the chair. Whatever makes you most comfortable."

The pad of his thumb swayed over her lower lip. "Don't leave. I'm positive."

There was more distance between them than usual, but they managed to find each other nonetheless. One of his hands vanished into her hair, the other one clinging stubbornly to a set of her willowy fingers, their knees touching just barely beneath the sheets. His head curved across the pillowcase to be as close to hers as he could allow. He wanted to give her more of himself—especially when she'd nearly experienced a breakdown of her own less than an hour ago—but it wouldn't be worth the risk. He had no interest in returning to that place where he felt like a victim all over again, not when he had something so much more important awaiting him on the other side. She was the sole reason he had made it this far after all that Jenna had done to him; she'd be his sole reason for getting past this setback as well.

"Thank you for being so patient with me tonight, Spence. Seriously. I'm not good at this, you know?" He nodded faintly between them, hoping that she would grasp his meaning. "But you did everything you could to make it easier on me."

A tiny smile illuminated her face. "I just tried to think like you. You're the nurturing one in this relationship."

He shook his head in disbelief. "You're better at this than you think."

"You make me better," she hummed with irrefutable confidence.

The corner of his mouth lifted in harmony with hers. "That goes both ways. What you said earlier about facing the fear…and how you trust me to be there for you…? I heard that, Spencer. Really heard it. I know it isn't good to bottle this stuff up, but without you, that's exactly what I'd be doing."

Contentment surged into her expression, but a persistent shadow of sorrow caught his attention.

"What?" he asked quietly, inching nearer. "Something's wrong."

"No, it's just…" she tore her eyes away from him, "I'm sorry, I don't want to push you, but…do you—do you think you'll stay on the police force forever?"

In all honesty, he was surprised it had taken her this long to pose that particular question. "Not forever, baby. Not even for the rest of the summer."

"Really?" She vaulted her regard back at him with vigorous enthusiasm.

"Really."

"It's not that I wouldn't support whatever choice you made, but there's so many things about the job that just…I don't like what it does to you, how it affects you…and…"

Her words ebbed away then, and he knew her well enough to identify the source of her agitation.

"It's okay, you can say it. I'm not exactly cut out for public service. No offense taken." He tipped his face lower so she could plainly see the sincerity behind his reassurances. "I didn't want to quit right away, not until we were…sure. I didn't want it to be like last time."

She nodded grimly. They'd made that mistake before, assumed that A would be locked away for the rest of eternity, only to learn that their nightmare had been far, far from over.

Toby's hand slipped consolingly along the nape of her neck. "But that's it. That's the only reason I haven't resigned yet, and after today…I'd say they'll be seeing my pink slip sooner rather than later."

"You can't begin to imagine how glad I am to hear that, Tobes," she murmured warmly.

"Yeah?"

"Oh yeah," she said, an electric light entering her countenance, "especially since I'm still planning on taking you with me for the next four years."

His grin was insatiable. "So that offer hasn't left the table? We haven't talked about it lately…"

"Nothing's changed, Toby. We've lost enough time already, haven't we? I'm not interested in wasting any more of it, not if we don't have to…" her eyes dimmed a notch before she went on, "but I know that's asking a lot, what with the loft and trying to make new connections for a job—"

"Nope, stop right there," he interrupted with an insistent smirk, "there will always be work for me, okay? And there are plenty of apartments in this world. There's only one you."

She smiled demurely, and on the off chance that she remained unconvinced, Toby arched toward her on impulse and kissed her with staggering abandon. He didn't let it last for very long, but judging by the sated look that romped dreamily across her features, it had been more than enough persuade her.

"So we're going to college," she whispered in a cute little singsong.

He laughed softly, his eyes crinkling at the absurdity of it all. His life had gone in so many strange, unforeseen directions over the last several years. He'd been catapulted into places he never expected to go, had fought harder and stronger for anything – or rather, anyone – than what he'd thought possible. And it had hurt. God, there were times when everything had hurt like hell, times when he wanted to lie down and surrender it all.

But one look at her and he had no doubt as to what he'd gained in the midst of what felt like a million smaller losses. For her, he would have faced anything, would have waited till the end of time.

"Yes, we're going to college."

a/n :: Thanks for reading! I might - keyword, MIGHT - extend this into a two-shot depending on my ability to find the appropriate level of time/creativity to do so...like...I'm tired of writing under the show's constraints right now (a.k.a. I'm tired of trying to accommodate the unresolved emotional plots and the never-ending A saga), but not at all tired of Spencer and Toby..? Does that make any sense? So maybe be on the lookout for an update on this one since I have a follow-up idea for it ;)

You guys are the rockingest. Thanks for all the love & support along the way.