Hi guys! So I'm kind of nervous to post this because I don't know what you'll think. I got a lot of positive feedback on my last story, but let me be the first to say- this new one is completely different. As I'd said, I really enjoy writing drama far more than fluff and though there will be some happy moments here and there, this is going to be mainly my version of what happened after the fallout of season four's finale. Cool? Cool.

So if you guys saw the notes and outline I wrote for this story, you would think I was insane. I basically just wrote down every mystery that has yet to be solved (after I tried to timeline the sequence of events, which was next to impossible) and let me just say it took up over two pages on Word. Yeah. Not gonna answer all of them. But I'm going to do everything I can to weave the important ones into my story. Hopefully you'll enjoy. I don't know. Let me know? Thanks, you're fabulous!

Oh by the way, the story's title comes from the song "Medicine" by Daughter (are you surprised it isn't Fun.?). Beautiful song- I feel like it's a good anthem for season five. Okay I'll stop rambling. Enjoy, maybe?

One

She doesn't sleep much these days and she thought it would change when she finally kicked that addiction, when she buried the amphetamines in Pandora's box along with rehab and her Radley stay, but it hadn't. She's a worrier and she's always been a worrier; try as her father demanded, Spencer Hastings always found it impossible to hide her true feelings when she was alone. At night, there is nothing else to do but dwell upon but the creeping sensation of failure, of danger and of destruction. And so, she does and she doesn't sleep; a few years ago, what kept her up at night was the anxiety over test grades, sparring with Melissa and gaining her parents' approval. Last year, it had been –A; a few weeks ago, it had been the crippling fear that she somehow had something to do with the death of an innocent girl. But now, it's none of those things. Now, it's Alison DiLaurentis.

For some reason, finding out Alison had in fact been alive this entire time did not shock Spencer as much as she had expected. The other girls, save for Hanna, who had suspected this for years, were still pinching themselves, as if they imagined Alison would once again disappear before their very eyes. With the all tricks and stunts she'd pulled, it wouldn't surprise Spencer if she did. It's just like her to have an entire town dedicated to finding her, an entire town gathered in the mourning of her, just to pull the wool over everyone's eyes at the last second. Intentional or not, Spencer's sure Alison is loving this; she had always loved and craved the spotlight, the attention. She's not sure Alison would have wanted it in this manner, but then again, she's still not sure whether or not Alison is on their side. What does shock Spencer, however, is that this ever-elusive anonymous sociopath wants Alison dead. There have been some days when Spencer wished she had never met Alison DiLaurentis, and there are more bad days than good, but never would she wish death upon anyone. Never would she base her happiness on another's downfall.

It's snowing and that's what's caught Spencer's attention in that spotty, in between time, too late to be considered night, too early to be considered morning. She's standing by the sole window of the bedroom, clad only in an oversized t-shirt of his, and watching as the majestic flakes of white flit and flutter about, swirl through the air and land on the ground below. The streetlights are casting an ethereal glow on the town before her and if Spencer didn't know any better, she would think that Rosewood was just any other town; parks and churches, movie theaters and schools, homes and the gracious people living within them. Of course, it's not that way at all; she remembers fondly an early conversation with Toby in which they'd discussed that very same thing. "It's not a monster," She had told him in the naïve way a child would and she supposes she was still a child, back then. But Toby had gone through more than she could've ever dreamed of and when he responded, "It's got monsters in it. You know that, and so do I," she agreed. She did know and she would continuously be reminded of that very fact every single day.

The days following their trip to New York City with Alison had been eventful to say the very least. Jessica DiLaurentis was found dead in her backyard and Spencer wondered how many times the DiLaurentis house would become the scene of a crime before the town decided to tear it down for good, to amputate an irreparable limb in order to save the body. Alison's father had returned to town to claim guardianship of his newly returned daughter and the two hadn't been seen or heard from since. Spencer's parents had put her on lockdown the moment she stepped in the door, her trustworthiness completely shot. They'd given her the third degree, read her rights and sent her to her room like a prisoner, which, because of her transgressions, she couldn't really blame them; that's what she was. A prisoner, trapped by her decisions, bound to those she loved and devoted to doing anything she possibly could to end all the tormenting, even if she lost herself in the process. It might sound daunting, it might turn others away, but not Spencer; after all, she'd already lost herself, once. And then, she came back.

Melissa had informed Spencer earlier in the day that Toby's flight was getting in around six and miraculously, her parents had allowed her to meet him at the airport. They hadn't even permitted her to see her friends, but somehow they gave Toby the green light; Spencer's not sure what changed their minds about him, but she won't complain. She thinks it must be his part in her intervention weeks prior; God, she'd been awful to him. She'd been awful to everyone. She intended to make everything right between the two of them but they got a bit distracted once they saw one another. Spencer's not one for public displays of affection, but she couldn't help herself; the moment he was close enough, she launched herself into his arms and the two made out like the teenagers they are instead of the adults they feel like. Needless to say, between the jetlag and the fervent lovemaking, Toby had passed out pretty quickly. Unfortunately for Spencer, she hadn't done the same.

"Spence?"

Or so she thought. She should've known he would've eventually realized she'd left him. She glances over and meets his concerned gaze, because even though he's dead tired, her wellbeing is the first thing he concentrates on. She smiles slowly and even though she's barely clothed, even though it's April and it shouldn't be below freezing, even though she's watching snow fall, her body fills with a warmth that only he can provide. His voice is groggier than she'd ever heard it; it's raw and low and, if she's admitting it, absolutely seductive. She doesn't think he's had a haircut in months, but she'd enjoyed tangling her fingers in the longer locks and the five o'clock shadow he's sporting had tickled and scratched her skin all over, but she has to say, it's a look she can certainly get used to.

"Hey," She says quietly. "Why aren't you asleep?"

He gives her a look, as if she's stolen the words from his mouth. "I could ask you the same question."

Spencer nods towards the window, saying, "It's snowing. Isn't that crazy? So much for spring."

"Rosewood's temperamental like that," Toby says, leaning on one elbow to outstretch a hand towards her. "Come on, you. Bed."

She takes his hand and crawls in beside him. He's so warm, so inviting, but there's too much on her mind for it to surrender to sleep. They hadn't talked much, earlier; they'd been a bit preoccupied and Spencer had felt that if they didn't meld their bodies into one, she would spontaneously combust. Now, however, she knows there's so much she wants to tell him, so much she can't tell him, but so much she will tell him all the same. They'd made a promise- no more secrets, not when it had nearly broken both of them last time. Lying to him absolutely destroys her, anyway; it always had. There's something about the sincerity of Toby's character that made Spencer feel like the worst person in the world every time she lied to his face. The fact that he accepts her anyway, that he knows there are things that will always remain obscure between them, renders her grateful and guilty and ashamed all in one.

"You look so much better," Toby tells her, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. "I didn't get a chance to tell you before, but you do."

"Well, I'm glad," She replies. "Someone told me I looked like crap, before, so…"

He chuckles. "You know I didn't mean that in malice."

"I know," She smiles. "I do feel better, so I guess all of that suffering was worth it."

She isn't saying it as a personal dig to him; if anything, it's her fault she relapsed, anyway. But that doesn't stop Toby from internalizing her pain and making it his own. She watches the frown form on his face and places a hand against his cheek to try and stop it. "Don't."

"I shouldn't have left," Toby laments. "I knew you were going through a rough time and I wanted to be there for you. It's just… Your parents said-"

"I'm serious. Don't," Spencer shakes her head. "It would've been nice to have you there, but part of me is glad you weren't. I was awful, Toby, and I would've done terrible things. I would've ruined us."

"I don't think that's true," Toby disagrees. "I did get your message, by the way. Why would you ever think you're a horrible person?"

She's quiet for a moment because, honestly, with everything she'd been dealing with the past few weeks, she'd completely forgotten about that terse phone call. "I-I don't know."

He eyes her and knows there's more. "Yes you do. You always know. What happened that made you think like that?"

Spencer sits up against the headboard; she can't have this conversation casually lying down. When he mirrors her actions, she reaches out and clutches both of his hands in hers, as if anchoring him to the spot, as if the information she's about to share will cause him to flee. "There's something I have to tell you, but before I do, there's something else I have to tell you."

"Okay," Toby nods, giving her hands a bit of a squeeze. "Go ahead."

"It's something I've known for weeks, since that magic show at Ravenswood, and we promised not to tell anyone," Spencer prefaces. "There is every chance that telling you now is only going to get you into trouble and that's why I've been keeping it from you so long. Please… Please don't hate me for what I'm about to say."

"Spencer, that's impossible," Toby tells her. "There is nothing you could do that would make me hate you."

"Don't be so sure of that," Spencer frowns. "This is big. Huge. And I've kept it from you for weeks."

"So you've said," He states. "You can tell me anything and you can tell me whenever you're ready. You know that."

She does and it's what's making this even harder. She sighs and says, "Alison is alive."

He doesn't say anything for a while and Spencer fears the worst. But when he does, it isn't what she's expecting. "Well I understand why you kept that from me."

Her eyes snap to his face and she manages to utter, "You do?"

"Yeah," Toby says quietly. "If she's alive… She's probably not safe. The less people that know, the better, right?"

"Right. Right, yeah," Spencer's body fills with relief and suddenly, love for him overwhelms her to the point where she cannot contain herself. She erupts into a series of conjoined sentences, speaking faster than she has in months in an effort to get everything out. "Oh god, she's alive, Toby, she's really alive. We've all seen her. She wants to come home, but it's still not safe because –A is still after her, -A still wants her dead, and we don't know who it is. We still don't. We thought maybe we knew, we thought it was Ezra, but we were wrong, so wrong, and then we went to Philadelphia to meet up with her, but Noel Kahn was there instead and I don't know why Ali ever thought she could trust him, of all people. He brought us to her, in New York, and she told us everything about that night, who she met with, how someone hit her, how Grunwald pulled her out of the grave her own mother dug and how Mona took care of her, even though she was already –A. And she was the one who pushed Ian off the bell tower, Toby, she saved my life! But there was someone there, listening to us, and it was –A and he or she or whoever had a gun and they almost got us, but Ezra was there and I still don't know how but he was shot instead and –A got away again and Ali's here, in Rosewood, somewhere, but she doesn't want anyone to know because it's not safe. And I don't know what to do to help her. I don't… I don't know if I want to."

Toby lets her ramble, lets her get it all out of her system, before asking, "You thought Ezra was –A? Your English teacher?"

Spencer pauses and laughs a bit. "Mrs. DiLaurentis, too."

"You guys are getting a little paranoid, huh?" Toby teases and Spencer sighs, thoroughly pleased to have gotten that burden off of her chest.

"It could be anyone, Toby," She tells him then. "But she doesn't trust us. She doesn't trust me and… I don't think I blame her."

"Why?" He wonders. "What's the second part in all of this?"

Spencer gently removes her hands from his, suddenly abashed as she remembers even her parents had wondered if she were capable of murder. "I'm sure my parents told you that this wasn't the first time I'd had issues with amphetamines."

He nods slowly. "They mentioned it was a relapse."

"Yeah. The first time was that summer, the one where Ali disappeared," Spencer fills in and glances away from him, unable to meet his eyes. "They caused really violent outbursts, but I'd black out and I wouldn't remember. I knew a long time ago that my parents hired a PI to follow Melissa after Ali went missing, but I found out recently that he wasn't employed to track Melissa. He, um… He followed me."

A burgeoning pit of dread forms in Toby's stomach as he asks, "What are you saying?"

"Exactly what you're thinking," Spencer fills in. "My parents thought that… They thought that I-"

"No," Toby shakes his head. "No way. How could they possibly think that?"

"They'd seen me do terrible things and Mrs. DiLaurentis was backing them up," Spencer continues, her voice wavering. "And the worst part was, I couldn't defend myself because I couldn't remember. All I knew was what they were telling me; that I was violent, that I was a monster, that I was unrecognizable. They made me believe that I was… That I…"

"You don't have to say it," Toby assures her, reaching across the distance between them to pull her into his arms, even as she protests. "You don't, because it isn't true and there is no way in a million years that you could've ever hurt anyone."

"Ali's alive," Spencer repeats. "But someone else, someone's in her grave. Someone's in her place. And I don't know who it is, but someone killed her and that someone easily could've been me."

"Stop that. I'm serious. Stop that right now," He pulls back none too gently to look her dead in the eye. "You didn't hurt anyone. You never could and anyone who thinks otherwise obviously doesn't see you like I do."

"That's just the thing," She points out. "You once told me that you know me, that you know who I am, but I don't know if you do. I want to be that person you think you know, but I'm not, Toby. I'm just not."

She's not sure what's gotten into her; she's never been this candid with him and she can tell it's taken him by unpleasant surprise. There's something about the intimacy of the moment, about these post-midnight whispered confessions, that's making it easier for her to empty her muddled brain and even more damaged heart right before him. She wonders if this is what an open, honest relationship looks like; she's never had one before. She's lied to just about everyone she's ever interacted with, but lying to Toby is different. Lying to Toby feels like a sunburn; painful at first, but the aftermath hurts a lot more. But this, this is something infinitely new to her. She's been told year after year to suppress her feelings and now that she's finally been given an out, now that Toby has finally given her an out, the dam has broken and the water is flowing freely and her feelings and thoughts, every single one, are laid out before them.

"Listen to me," Toby tells her sharply. "I don't know who's been messing with you and making you feel this way about yourself, but you let me know as soon as possible so I can give this person a swift kick in the teeth."

She smiles a bit as he goes on. "When we first became friends, before all of the –A stuff got really bad, you were intelligent and brave and loyal and fiercely competitive. You had a knack for solving even the toughest of puzzles and you had a resilience to you that I just could not match. No matter how many times you were knocked down, you got right back up again and gave it another go. Because you're strong; you're tough. You were a force to be reckoned with, in more ways than one."

"And that girl I just described, Spence? She's right here, in my shirt, in my bed," Toby says and her smile grows a bit wider. "You're still that person; you always have been. Don't tell me I don't know who you are; I know you, Spencer. I recognize those same qualities you showed on my porch that afternoon because you still display them every single day. Don't let other people tell you who you are; you know who you are, and so do I."

He kisses her, sliding back down to a lying position and tugging her with him. She relents when he pulls away. "Now can we please, for the love of God, put this to rest and go to sleep?"

Spencer chuckles a bit and snuggles closer to him. "Sure."

She settles in, her ear pressed gently to the rhythmic beating of his heart, and whispers, "I missed you."

He holds her tighter and presses a kiss to her crown. "I missed you."

He might have told her he loved her after that; Spencer's not entirely sure. She doesn't sleep much these days, but the moment she's in his arms, the final puzzle piece slides into place. You're safe now, her mind reminds her. You're home. The worrying ceases for the night and instead is replaced by synchronized breathing, even heartbeats and blissful dreams of one another's company. She doesn't sleep much these days, but maybe it's because she hadn't been sleeping next to him.

A scintillating aroma of cinnamon is what finally rouses Spencer from a much-needed sleep and she must have been thoroughly exhausted, because she hadn't even noticed that Toby had disentangled himself from her, let alone left the bedroom completely. She rolls over, scrubs a hand over her eyes and balks at the sight of the clock on his bedside table- 10:27. She bolts upright as though someone has lit a fire beneath her; Spencer Hastings does not sleep in. If she can sleep past seven, it's a victory. She pushes back the comforter and doesn't even bother to calm her wild mane of hair, her growling, grumbling stomach leading her towards the heavenly scent emanating from the kitchen. When she gets there, Toby's at the stove and the table's set for two and she has to take a mental step back and remind herself that she can't get used to this even if she wants to.

"Morning," He greets as he turns, scrambled eggs hot in the pan before him. "There's cinnamon rolls, but before you make fun of me, they're nothing fancy, just the kind you get from the can. I made eggs and toast, too, if you'd rather have that. Plus there's juice and, more importantly, coffee."

"That sounds amazing," She says, sinking into the chair before the plate he's designated for her. "I can't believe you let me sleep that long."

"You needed it," Toby insists. "It's Saturday. It's not like you're missing anything."

He loads her plate with all of the available options and is halfway through pouring her a cup of coffee when she asks, "Are you trying to make me gain a hundred pounds?"

He laughs. "You said the pills made you lose your appetite and since you stopped taking them, I thought maybe it came back."

"It did," She agrees. "But it didn't come back with the ferocity of a bull."

Grinning, he hands her the steaming mug and she sips from it gratefully as he sits before her. "In all seriousness, though, thank you for this; for everything. For breakfast, for letting me stay here, for listening to me ramble last night…"

"Of course," He puts in. "Listening to you ramble is in my job description and you know you're always welcome here."

Her phone buzzes as they're halfway through breakfast and Spencer dreads answering it. –A had been surprisingly quiet since their scuffle on the roof a few weeks back and Spencer had deluded herself into thinking perhaps there wouldn't be anymore texts. Last night had been perfect in every way she'd hoped it would be and the last thing she wants to do is disrupt the momentary peace a night absent of torment had brought her. Toby catches her uneasy look and shakes his head, tells her to forget it, but Spencer can't seem to let it go. She finishes breakfast distractedly as Toby tidies up around her. She should really check her phone; it could be time-sensitive information. But, on the other hand, ignorance is bliss…

Toby then pulls her from her reverie. "I'm going to take a shower. Your father's not planning on dropping by, is he?"

"No, why?" Spencer asks amusedly.

"Because I'm going to ask you to join me," He informs her. "And I don't think he approved of that, last time."

She laughs. "I don't know what was worse- you, in a towel, asking me to shower with you in front of him or me, in your underwear, in front of him."

"That's not even a question," Toby shakes his head. "Me in a towel, by a landslide. He's your father; I'm going to assume he's seen you in underwear before."

"Yeah, my own," Spencer corrects. "Never a boyfriend's, because that implies that we…"

"Well, we did," Toby finishes. "And I could've lived without your father knowing that."

She grins. "You and me both."

He flashes her a grin too and turns for the bathroom. In a moment, she can hear the rush of water and her phone goes off again. Toby calls, "Are you coming?"

Spencer glances at her phone, the vibrating body, the illuminated screen, and decides against it. She bounds after him and replies, "Yeah. I'm coming."

It'll still be there when she gets back, she figures. Instead, she locks the front door; she doubts her father will come to collect her after what he walked in on last time, but it doesn't hurt to be safe. Steam is already rolling from the bathroom by the time she gets there; he certainly had gotten the hot water working after all. She slips out of her clothing, steps beneath the warm waterfall beside him and allows herself another moment of bliss. Here, in the narrow shower stall, under the pounding water, in the cage of his arms, -A can't touch her. She'll stay here forever; she'll risk drowning here, with him, if it means that she'll never get another menacing text.

When they've finished and she's refreshed, she does eventually check the messages on her phone. She has a missed call from her mother and three unanswered texts from Hanna, but nothing from –A. Toby's still towel-drying his hair when he speculates, "Maybe –A forgot about you."

"One can only dream," Spencer drones and her phone goes off again. She groans and answers, "God, Hanna, what?"

"Where are you? We were supposed to meet at my house an hour ago!"

"I just got your messages," Spencer provides and ignores Toby's chuckling in the background. Will there ever be a day when she doesn't lie to everyone she knows? "I'm leaving now. I'll be there soon."

They exchange a few more words before hanging up and Spencer laments, "I have to go."

"So I've heard," Toby says, bending to part ways with a kiss. "I'll call you later."

"Okay," She replies and halfway out the door, she turns back to say, "And be careful, okay? –A's likely not going to be pleased that I told you what I did, so just… Keep an eye open?"

"I will," He promises. "You do the same."

She nods hesitantly and then she's gone. She wishes it were that easy, just keeping an eye open for anything out of the blue. She wishes she could take her own advice. But it's much more complicated, now. When Mona was –A, she let the girls know what was coming so when disaster struck, they had no one to blame but themselves. But the thing about this –A, whomever it is now, is that they truly are out for blood. They must sense the end is near as much as the girls do and they're not going down without bringing any and everyone else with them. Spencer shakes her head clear of these thoughts as she lets herself into Hanna's kitchen and is nearly accosted by the impatient and jittery other three.

"Where the hell have you been?" Hanna exclaims. "We've been trying to reach you all morning!"

"I was with Toby, okay?" Spencer defends. "We were just trying to get some alone time."

"Wait, he's back from London?" Emily probes. "When did he get back?"

"Last night," Spencer answers easily. "We just wanted to spend some time together."

"Did he say why he went there in the first place?" Aria wonders. "I mean, getting Melissa back was nice, but there had to have been another reason, right?"

Spencer shrugs but before she can reply, Hanna bellows, "No, can we please focus? What does this mean?"

Only then does Spencer notice the hourglass on her kitchen counter. She asks, "Where did you get that?"

"Special delivery this morning," Hanna replies. "Do you think it's a countdown? Do you think –A knows where Ali is?"

"No one knows where Ali is," Emily says. "Not even me. Us."

Aria puts in, "Yeah, but I wouldn't put it past –A to find out."

Spencer turns the hourglass in her direction to read the inscription on the side. "The last to go will see the first three go before her. Time's running out. Kisses, -A."

"Do you see why I've been freaking out?" Hanna cries, twisting her hair around a finger nervously. "What do we do? Should we reach out to her again?"

"Yeah, because that worked out so well for us last time," Aria deadpans. "We might have gotten the answers we wanted, but Ezra paid the price. And we still don't know everything!"

The girls are silent a moment in contemplation. No one wants to ask, but Emily, ever the polite one, implores, "Is Ezra alright?"

"I guess," Aria shrugs. "I haven't spoken to him since he left the hospital. He thinks we can work through it, but… Getting shot doesn't excuse what he did."

The others nod in agreement and are glad she feels this way, because now they don't have to waste time convincing her Ezra's still an enemy. Finally, after a beat, Spencer says, "The Wizard of Oz."

Hanna balks, "What?"

"The last to go will see the first three go before her," Spencer repeats. "That's from The Wizard of Oz. I knew I'd heard that before."

"Pay no attention to the man behind the curtain," Emily adds. "-A is banking on us putting all of our attention on helping Ali and when we do…"

"We'll lead –A right to her," Spencer finishes. "She'll strike when we least expect it."

"The last to go will see the first three go before her," Aria reiterates. "Is –A talking about killing people? Killing… us?"

"Okay, I'm officially freaked out," Hanna shudders and turns away from the hourglass just as her doorbell rings throughout the house.

She makes no move to answer it and when the others urge her to, she says, "No way! What if it's –A coming to finish us off?"

"Come on," Emily links her arm through her friend's. "It's four against one. –A can't get us all."

"That's a reassuring motto," Spencer replies, voice dripping with sarcasm, as the four head to the front door.

Emily pushes Hanna forward a little and the blonde takes careful, cautious steps towards the door. The other three wait with baited breath behind her and long for a time when they weren't afraid of their own shadows, afraid to answer a phone, afraid to get the front door. Hanna glances back at her friends, worry etched in her brow and they send back reassuring, albeit slightly terrified looks of encouragement. Her hand closes around the door handle and she takes a deep breath before swinging the door open and jumping in response to the figure on her front porch. Her blue eyes widen in shock and she gasps, her heart racing.

For everyone she might have expected, this figure before her had not been on the list.