The Devil Inside of Me
A Spoby OneShot
(A/N: Title inspired by something Keegan Allen said during a Ustream that had nothing to do with Pretty Little Liars :D)
"Love is the only force capable of transforming an enemy into friend."
-Martin Luther King, Jr.
"How can the devil be pulling you towards someone who looks so much like an angel when he smiles at you?"
-Taylor SwiftIt wasn't supposed to happen like this.
That combination of seven words, surely the brightest jewel on the crown of anguished phrases, seemed to be on an endless loop in my head, pounding its incessant rhythm into to my skull like a damaged vinyl player. That isn't what infuriates me, though. No, the part that makes it most unbearable is that even with an eternity of repetition, I still wouldn't be able to discern quite what that simple little statement means to me.
Perhaps it's that I wasn't supposed to fall in love with her, with the enemy. That wasn't the original plan, of course. My orders were to get close to her, to gain her trust so that I could gather information, and then, one day, we could pull the rug out from underneath her, and the mightiest of the bitches would finally fall. Through all of this, of course, I was meant to remain neutral, simply putting on the show of caring for her, but not actually doing so.
In retrospect, this sounds asinine even to me. Haven't we all seen enough horrid, romantic movies to know that these types of plans never work out like they're supposed to? Mona should have anticipated this. Maybe she was too blinded by madness-induced fury, or maybe it was her plan all along. For all I know, I could be just another pun in her twisted chess game.
Perhaps it has nothing to do with Spencer—at least not directly. It could be that I wasn't supposed to join this godforsaken "team" at all.
I did it out of anger and hatred and the crushing weakness that has always plagued me. Mona played on that weakness, using it to lure me in. At the time, I was glad to obey her, keeping close behind her like a dog and doing just as I was told. It was as though she was a savior or a hero in the night, come to finally take down the blonde-headed demon that had tormented us for years.
After Alison's death, of course, we couldn't have her anymore. The next best thing was her posse. They'd been her right-hands during her Reign of Terror, so they deserved to live through hell just like their leader. I'd said that to Alison myself once, and there was a time I'd believed it with every part of me.
That was before I'd ever really looked into those beautiful brown eyes. They were, of course, one of her Hastings features, but beyond the surface, they did little to connect her to her parents and sister. Rather, they often did just the opposite. When Spencer wanted something, or loved something, her eyes were imbued with a fierce, passionate determination that the deadpan gazes of her family simply did not possess. When she looked at me, when I first realized she loved me, I could feel something shift deep down within me, and it was such a new and terrifying feeling that I didn't know what to make of it at first.
Perhaps, though, the phrase that has become my plague is trying to tell me that I wasn't meant to break her so utterly the way that I did.
I'm a coward, I know that. I've proved it time and time again. After Mona punished me with that scaffolding incident for trying to back out of my orders, to stop lying to Spencer, I'd never outwardly disobeyed her again. When I could tell that Spencer was ready to sleep with me, I should've refused, because the inevitability of my crushing her heart was looming over us, but I didn't. How could I have, when she lit a fire in my veins that made me feel alive in a way that I hadn't felt in such a long, long time?
The most prominent example of my cowardice, though, is the most recent one. When I turned to face Spencer in her kitchen, on that fateful night when the star-crossed lovers were to meet their end, with nothing but the thunder to break the deafening silence between us, something was different in those eyes that I loved. There was no shock, as I'd expected—she'd known my secret for longer than she'd ever admit, for hours probably. No, it wasn't any sort of revelation, but something had changed.
And I couldn't stand it. It took all I had to walk towards her, to fight the urge to run immediately. Running was a familiar concept to me, especially since I'd come into this sick partnership with Mona. In fight or flight, the latter was a comfortable option. I had other reasons, too. I had thought that if I left before the image really sunk in, burning itself onto my irises, I could forget it, and remember only the plentiful looks of love they'd bestowed upon me. So when she turned at the sound of her mother's voice, I took my chance.
It was to no avail, though. Despite the fact that the soft, tender gazes I'd become accustomed to and preferred far outnumbered this one, I could still recall it with cruel, perfect clarity-the quiet rage, the lingering denial, and, most poignantly of all, what seemed to be unadulterated hatred.
She might as well have just plunged a sword into me, because I don't know how to live if she hates me.
Of course, when I return to my loft a few hours later and find Mona there waiting for me, my first reaction is to be angry at her. The fury courses through my veins, surging upward like a fire and rapidly melting the ice that Spencer had left behind with her glare. Something stops me just before it boils over the edge, though. Mona's just sitting there, a coy smirk on her face, sipping a glass of red wine. My eyes stray to the table, where a beautifully prepared meal sits, and it's almost as though it's mocking me. I know exactly who prepared that meal, and precisely for what reason. This brings on another wave of rage, but I close my eyes and take a shaky breath, trying to quell it just enough to force coherent words from my throat.
"You planned this," I say. It isn't a question. Mona just smiles wider and sets her wine glass on the table, pressing her fingertips together daintily. I should have known something was amiss when she sent me, of all the team members, to retrieve the lost key from Spencer's house.
"Your bitch was here earlier, you just missed her. I suppose you were wandering around, lurking in the shadows. It suits you, of course." I try to swallow the lump that's been building in my throat, but it's persistent.
"Just leave me alone, Mona."
She steps closer to me, much closer than I'm comfortable with, and I'm vaguely reminded of Jenna, but only for a fleeting second. Only one girl dominates my mind at this moment. "You're never alone, Toby. We're all you have."
How poetic. In some sick way, though, her words ring true. After tonight, even if I were to risk my life and prove to Spencer that I love her, she'd never forgive me, and she'd certainly never trust me again. Mona truly is a diabolical genius. She's destroyed the only thing that made me feel alive, and cemented my loyalty to her, all in one night. I have nothing now—nothing but "—A."
"I just want to be alone tonight."
"Of course you do. But come morning, you're going to report for your new orders, and you're going to keep those ridiculous emotions of yours in check, just like I've been telling you to do for months. You brought this on yourself, Toby."
I want to get angry, but I feel as though all the life has drained out of me. Mona has that effect on people. All I can do is nod, and then she's smiling again. She knows that she's finally broken me completely—without Spencer, I have nothing on the other side to fight for, to protect. I'm just another of Mona's mindless drones now, and she can sleep easily knowing that I'll do whatever she says.
When the door shuts behind her, it seems to carry the sound of some dramatic finality. It's sealing my fate. I rest my back on it, the burning sensation in my throat and eyes threatening to overpower me. For the first time in years, I let it. Sliding down to the ground, I bury my head in my knees and let the tears fall unhindered. It feels freeing to cry, to feel. I have a sinking feeling that it's the closest I'll ever get to real emotion again now that Spencer's gone.
An hour passes this way, until finally it seems as though my tear ducts have dried out. I know it's only temporary though. There will be many more waves of agony to come.
Something in the corner of the room catches my eye. A platform, adorned with something unfamiliar. Upon closer inspection, I see that it's a Scrabble board. My heart begins to thump rapidly, my breath coming in short pants, and suddenly I feel as though I've just run a marathon.
"Goofball" and "Glyceraldehyde" are arranged just as they were that auspicious night in the Edgewood Motor Court. In the middle, the tiles are placed to say "I love you." My chest constricts painfully, and it's all I can do to keep breathing. I clutch the edge of the table to keep from collapsing once more to the floor, my grip so fervent that my knuckles turn white.
There's an engraving at the bottom, and that's what kills me.
"For T, my safe place to land. Always your girl, S."
My whole body goes numb, my hand slipping from the table, and I sink to the floor piteously. The tears are streaming now with greater vehemence, and I almost wish it were possible to drown in them. If I were to die in some theatrical gesture to Spencer, I wouldn't have to feel this gnawing, all-consuming pain anymore. If I live, I'm fairly certain it won't ever go away, because every single ounce of it is self-induced.
It would be so easy to blame Mona, but I can't. She might have influenced me, but in the end, it was my own choices that got me to this place. I'm the devil, and I've lit the flames of my own little Hell.
I fall asleep there on the ground, not even bothering to remove my now iconic black hoodie. It feels as though it's fused to my skin, seeping into my bloodstream like a tangible poison, but I suppose it's just as well. It's irritatingly symbolic and reminiscent of Mona's earlier words. This is who I've allowed myself to become, and it's all I'll ever be.
When morning comes, I rise from my resting place on the ground and make my way to the door. Everything from Spencer's surprise anniversary dinner is still in place, with only the wine having been tampered with. No tears come this time when I lay eyes upon the evidence of my betrayal, but I have to force myself not to tremble.
The door clicks shut behind me, and the light of the morning burns my exhausted eyes. Pulling my hood up, I take my first step down the metal stairs, and I make my way to Mona.
…
THREE WEEKS LATER
I crouch in the darkness of the barn, absentmindedly fingering the metal handle of the weapon concealed within the folds of my hoodie. I don't want to be doing this, but Mona insisted it's for the best. I smile humorlessly at the fact that such a small girl can inspire fear in me, but I suppose it's not completely ridiculous. Insanity can be beyond frightening.
When she'd given me the order, saying it had come from "red coat" herself, I'd almost fought back, but Mona and I both know that I don't have any fight left in me. I'm like a horse that's been violently spurred into obedience. How odd that I'm lurking in in a stable.
Luring Caleb here had been simple enough. When we found out that he and Emily's girlfriend had been in cahoots, looking for the people that were torturing their loved ones, Mona had sent one of the other members to steal the cell phone of Caleb's new-found father, asking him to come and visit the stable where he was employed. Jamie wouldn't be here today, though. It was his day off. Only I would be waiting for Caleb.
Wistful thoughts creep their way into the forefront of my mind. I wonder what things would be like if I'd never given into Mona at all, never joined her team, and never donned this shadow of a hoodie. I'd likely be in the same situation as Caleb and Paige, trying desperately to find out who was hurting the woman I love, and I'd have someone waiting in a dark barn waiting to shoot me as well. The notion is oddly inviting. At least Spencer would still love me.
Finally, the moment of truth arrives. The doors creak open, and footsteps fall softly on the hay-covered floor. My brow furrows at this. The sounds of the feet falling are too soft, too light to be Caleb's. I peer experimentally around the box that I'm crouched behind, wondering if we've made a mistake, if someone was indeed scheduled to be here today.
Looking is a mistake on my part. A fatal error, really.
She sees me immediately, as though looking for me. I feel like an idiot. Of course she's looking for me. Why else would she be here?
"Spencer?" Her name falls from my lips accidentally, and clap my hand over my mouth straightaway. As stupid as it is, though, it feels so good to say her name again. It had become a taboo of sorts over the past few weeks, and I'd missed its sweet music.
She doesn't look like herself. She's still beautiful, but she's some disheveled, unkempt, broken ghost of the Spencer that I remember. Her eyes are bloodshot from countless sleepless nights—I recognize them because they mirror mine. Her skin is sallower, almost sunken, and she looks even thinner, if possible. It's like looking at a skeleton.
I've broken her.
The Toby from a year-and-a-half ago, the one who was all but enthusiastic to join Mona in her twisted quest, would have cheered at this new development, but he's silent now, because he's been dead for a long time. Ever since he found the real Spencer Hastings, not the version he'd built in his mind, he'd changed into a man who could love, and now, into me—a man who's had his heart shattered by none other than himself.
I see tears beginning to form in her eyes, and she wipes them away angrily, staring me down with the same intense look from her kitchen that night. Somehow, for some reason, it gives me the strength to rise to my feet. I find words, but they aren't what I really want to say, and I don't even feel as though I am the one speaking them. They just slip out into the air, completely uninvited.
"How did you know I would be here?" I sound tired, almost as exhausted as she looks, and her eyes shine with something I can't quite place, but only for a moment. Almost as soon as it came, it disappears, only to be replaced with a look of steely defiance.
"I've had someone tailing you. A private investigator."
For a few wild seconds, I almost want to laugh. A private investigator…I should have known. It's just such a Spencer thing to do. It makes my heart ache all the more, the longing and the guilt resuming its task of eating me alive. When it becomes clear that I'm not going to respond, Spencer continues.
"He's been tracking your phone conversations with Mona, and he told me what you were planning to do to Caleb. I warned him not to come, and then I followed you here."
It's obvious that she didn't tell her friends of her plans, by the way a bit of apprehension darts across her features. I continue to finger the gun in my pocket, pondering. It would be so easy, just to end the pain for both of us. How Romeo and Juliet. I know I could never do it, though. I love Spencer too much to do anything to—physically—hurt her, and offing myself in front of her would only serve to traumatize her.
She seems to have caught on to the situation, because she's staring at my pocket, and I can tell she's trying not to panic. Suddenly, though, an eerie calm settles over her, and her whole demeanor changes. Her shoulders relax, and she looks me dead in the eyes, challenging me. I resist the urge to take a step back. When she speaks, her voice is low, and more dangerous than I've ever heard it.
"Have you got a gun in there, Toby? Is it the same one that one of you maniacs shot Garrett with?" I flinch instinctively at the name. Killing the cop hadn't been part of the original plan either, but, once again, Mona had insisted it was a necessity.
"Are you going to shoot me, too? I bet that would make Mona happy. That's your endgame isn't it? "—A" wants to take down all four of us. Why not start with me?" Her voice falls to a whisper then, and I'm almost certain that I'm not meant to hear what comes next. "You've already killed me anyway. There's nothing else to take away from me."
I want to tell her she's wrong, so, so wrong, that I don't want to hurt her, that I would do anything to leave Mona's band of fiends and have her back, but I'm afraid that if I try to speak, all that will come out will be the scream of agony I can feel building in my chest.
"Well, what are you waiting for, Toby?" Her voice is steadily rising now, and by the end she's practically screaming. "Do it!"
"Spencer…" I warn, but she's storming towards me, a look of pure anguish and fury in her eyes.
"I SAID DO IT!" I flinch, backing a few steps away from her. She does not follow, but instead stares at me, her chest rising and falling rapidly. Keeping my eyes carefully trained on hers, I reach into my pocket and pull out the gun. Spencer doesn't so much as flinch or widen her eyes. She's frozen in place, staring me down like an ancient statue, its beauty preserved over the years only in a museum. Slowly, ever so slowly, I set the weapon on the ground between us. As soon as it is placed safely on the hay, she crumples.
I'm horrendously reminded of myself, that night in my loft, when I knew that I'd lost her for good, that I'd screwed up as much as I had. The tears are streaming down her face like a waterfall, and she's screaming and sobbing with reckless abandon. I kneel down next to her, the guilt like a sledgehammer bludgeoning me over and over on the head. I want nothing more than to take her into my arms, to kiss her hair and to whisper to her that everything will be all right, but I know that isn't possible. She'd probably punch me.
Several minutes pass, in which she sobs and I try to find the courage to say something. My nature still rings true though—I continue to be a coward, even in this moment where I am the one who is most composed (even though it's just barely). Finally, Spencer speaks.
"Just…just tell me the t-truth, Toby. Please…please." The sound of her begging is like nails on a chalkboard to me. Spencer should never be like this. She's strong and powerful and independent. She succumbs to no one, and she begs for nothing. She's a fighter, and she isn't afraid to go after what she wants.
Maybe she was, but look at what you've done to her. What's become of her. And it's your fault.
I push away the voice in the back of my head and gulp audibly. Spencer is looking at me now, her eyes so red and raw that it looks as though she's been crying for days rather than just minutes. I want to reach out to her, to touch her, but I resist the urge.
"The truth…the truth is…it wasn't in the plan to fall in love with you, Spencer. I paid for it when Mona found out that I did."
She looks away. "You've done nothing but lie to me, Toby. Why should I believe anything you say now?" Her comment stings like the slap she delivered that night, and it's almost as though I can feel her palm on my cheek once more, and the smarting, tingling sensation it left behind.
"I told a lot of lies, Spencer, I'll be the first to admit that, but I never, ever lied about that. It took me by surprise, but…" I'm unable to go on, but Spencer somehow finds the courage to finish for me.
"You love me."
I nod, tears of my own beginning to fall from my eyes. "More than anything."
"And the scaffolding…you tried to leave, and Mona punished you for it." I don't need to confirm or deny this. Spencer, with her blessed Hastings intelligence, already knows it to be true. I sigh, running a gloved hand tiredly through my hair. I'm trying to think of something to say when the unexpected happens.
Suddenly, her weight crashes into me. For a moment, I think she's attacking me, but then I feel her arms lock around my neck, and I realize she's embracing me. Her face is buried in the crook of my neck and she's sobbing once more. I kiss her hair, closing my eyes and breathing in her intoxicating scent for the first time in weeks. It's like heaven, and I never want to let go of this moment, of her.
"Toby," she finally says, hiccupping and shifting to look up at me, "what are we even going to do?"
Letting go of her for just a moment, I remove the black gloves from my hands and toss them unceremoniously to the side. Placing my palms on either side of Spencer's face, I gaze into her eyes, and the most refreshing feeling overtakes me. None of the hatred from that night that had been so burned into my mind's eye remains, and some of the more familiar looks are beginning to return, creeping their way slowly back in.
"Spencer," I finally answer, tucking a stray lock of hair gently behind her ear, "I don't know if you still want me to be your safe place to land, but I want you to know that I'm going to do everything in my power to protect you from Mona, and from all the other members of her team."
The words resonate deeply within me, even as I say them. Here, with Spencer once more in my arms, the empty, aching feeling that has dominated me since she left is rapidly disintegrating. I lean in and, uncertainly at first, press my lips to hers. She returns the kiss with more fervor than I expected, and when we break apart we are both breathing heavily. I look at her and I realize that I do have something, someone, to fight for. And I'll fight to the death if it means she stays safe.
"I'm with you, Spencer, not with them. And I want to help you bring them down."
She responds with short, breathless laugh of pure relief, a few stray tears slipping down her cheeks. She kisses me again, and it feels like a fire has been lit within me. Spencer is in my veins, and as long as she stays there, I'm alive.
"I love you, Toby."
"I love you, too. So much." We kiss again, unable to keep our hands off one another, and despite the horrific gravity of the situation awaiting us outside this barn, I can't keep the foolish smile off of my face.
"Let's go home, Toby." She takes my hand, leading me out of the barn. I grab the gloves, but leave the gun behind. I don't need it anymore. I'm not sure if Spencer meant her house or my loft by "home," but I don't care. Wherever I can be with her is home to me.
Mona be damned.
(A/N: I thought about giving this an angsty ending and not doing the second part at all, but I just couldn't. I have too many Spoby feels right now as it is. Drop a review in the box down below and let me know what you thought. Thanks, lovelies!)