A/N: Let's go back a few months, shall we? To when we were watching Spencer fall apart in front of our eyes, watching her believe she was directly responsible for the death of another human being. That's when I started writing this. For some reason it never got finished, until recently. I wanted to get it out before the new season aired, so I just barely made it. Haha. It's significantly shorter than my usual oneshots, but I really only wanted to write this one scene, and I feel like adding more stuff for the sake of making it longer would just seem forced. So hopefully you guys forgive me for that.

I'm super pumped for the premiere, even though I found out Toby's not going to be in it. Whatever happened to that airport scene we were promised? :(

Lover's Farewell

It was as if a small piece of his heart crumbled away with every step she took, leaving it a shredded mess by the time she'd reached the top of the stairs and disappeared out of sight. His first instinct as always was to go after her, but the memory of this afternoon held him back, like an invisible fist around his wrist. It still hurt to think about how she'd shrunk away from his touch as if he'd burned her. It was the kind of behavior that made him want to flee into his truck and drive and drive.

He noticed how her parents shared a glance of exasperation, and it angered him. She was fine when she'd left his place around lunch time. She'd nestled herself into his arms, kissed him with abandon asked him to come by her house later. Everything about her screamed that she wanted – needed – the unconditional love he reserved only for her, and yet when he showed up she was as agitated and uncommunicative as he'd ever seen her.

What had her father said to her that caused this kind of relapse?

"I can't deal with this anymore, Peter," her mother was saying tiredly, throwing her hands up in defeat. "You tell her."

Her father opened his mouth in protest, but nothing came out. "That's not a good idea," he finally spoke after a moment. "She and I, we… we haven't had very many good moments these past few weeks…"

Veronica's eyes flashed. "Well then this is your chance to fix it," she snapped. "Do I have to do everything around here? I packed her bag; you should be the one–"

"That's not fair and you know it," Peter argued back. "Why should I have to–"

"I'll tell her," Toby said quietly. It was out of his mouth before he knew it. Both her parents turned to look at him in surprise, as if they had forgotten he was even here.

There was a moment of awkward silence, and then Veronica put her poker face back on. "Thank you, Toby. I think she might take it better if it came from you."

He could sense enormous relief on her part, and he came dangerously close to hating her for it. The lengths both the Hastings' would go to in order to get out of their parental duties disgusted him.

He truly feared what would come out of his mouth if he opened it, so he made his way up the stairs without another word. Her door was closed, and once again the fear of being rejected reared its ugly head. He knocked softly and pushed the door open, not waiting for her inevitable, "Go away!"

It took him a moment to spot her in the dark room, but as his eyes adjusted they found her brown hair popping up over the foot of her bed. She didn't give any indication of having her heard him come in, and apprehensively he walked over and sank down to sit beside her.

His heart shattered all over again when he saw the tears on her face, but he didn't dare reach out to her. Everything about her body language was closed off and warned him to keep his distance, and if that was what she wanted, it was what he would do. Even if it killed him in the process.

She didn't look at him but he couldn't keep his eyes off her. They followed every part of her – from her long, wavy hair, to her adorable little nose, to her pink, plump lips, to the curve of her neck, to the shoulders that fit into his hands perfectly, to the breasts he could picture so easily even if they were covered now, to the stomach that always tasted so sweet under his lips, to the hips that he hoped would one day bear his children, to the endless legs that felt like silk in his hands, to the feet that he'd warmed up between his more times than he could count.

He loved every part of her with every part of him, so intensely that it clouded everything he did. When things were good, it felt like flying – but when things were bad it was like crashing to the ground and breaking into a billion pieces and hurting all over.

She spoke first, her voice quiet and strained. "Please don't hate me."

A sharp pain stabbed at his already aching heart. Out of all the things she could have said, he was positive nothing could have hurt him the way this did.

"Oh, Spence…" He took a chance and cupped the side of her face in one hand. "I wouldn't know how to hate you. I couldn't if I tried."

To his immense relief, she didn't pull away – on the contrary: she covered his hand at her cheek with hers.

"Don't think it was anything you did." She met his eyes anxiously, and he knew she was referring to talking more pills after she promised him she was done. "You're the only thing in my life that makes sense right now. Sometimes it feels like you're the only reason I'm still sane."

"Then why didn't you call me?" He could hear how his own voice was laced with torment. It pained him to no end that she hadn't reached out to him, even after he specifically offered her his aid.

She tore her eyes away from his, as if she was afraid her gaze would poison him. "It's complicated."

"No, it's not," he countered, an edge to his tone now. "I could have distracted you, I could have held you… Anything you needed, I would have given you, no questions asked."

"I know." Her voice trembled. "It's just… I'm… I'm so confused."

"About what? Spencer…" He tried to get to her to look at him but she kept her eyes trained on the floor. "Talk to me," he pleaded. "Tell me what's going on, let me help you…"

Silence echoed throughout the room. It wasn't the first time he knew in his gut that she was keeping secrets from him – not by a long shot – but it felt frighteningly different this time. She wasn't just doing it to protect him. It was more than that, and he could sense it. It was as if she felt the danger was coming from within her instead of from the nightmare that others created for her. If he didn't know better, it was as if she was placing doubt on everything she knew to be true about herself. Like the ground underneath her feet was crumbling and she didn't know if she should even bother trying to hold onto something solid.

Suddenly, she turned to him, gently framing his face in her hands before pressing her lips to his. "I love you so much," she whispered before kissing him again. "Don't you ever doubt that, no matter what you find out about me…" Another lingering kiss. "No matter what I did or didn't do, I love you more than I'll ever be able to put into words." And with one last kiss she pulled away. She'd gotten to her feet and was making her way to the open doorway before he could even blink.

He scrambled up to follow her. "Spencer. Spencer!"

She was in the hall before he caught up with her. He grabbed her by the elbow, turning her around to face him as gently as he could.

"Your parents are taking you to a rehab clinic in Philly," he blurted out. He realized this wasn't the way he wanted to tell her, but it did the trick. She froze in her tracks and stared at him blankly.

"What?"

"It's called Furndell," he told her, making an effort to even out his tone. "It's only for a few days. They have ways of making the detox easier on you."

He never wanted to think of the word 'detox' in context to his girlfriend. It was devastating on so many levels, but it was also a reality now. After she ditched him at the Brew and her parents informed him they had found more pills in her room, his first instinct had been to grab her, put her in his truck and drive to the outskirts of town in search of a motel. He'd been prepared to sit with her for days and days, cling to her hand, wrap her up in his arms when she got the chills and hold her hair back while she vomited into the toilet.

But when her parents told him about the rehabilitation center, he figured that was probably a better idea. Medication would be able to help her where he couldn't. As much as he wanted to believe that there wasn't a situation in the world that he couldn't fix for her, he knew this was one time he would have to take a step back. It was a question of putting her needs above his own.

"It'll be better this way," he said pleadingly, as if he was afraid she would think he'd given up on her. "I want the best for you. So do your parents."

When she finally spoke, her voice was hoarse. "When?"

"Now."

The both jumped when Veronica's voice resonated from a few feet away. Apparently she had snuck up the stairs while they weren't paying attention.

"Now?" Toby questioned, feeling some sort of incomprehensible panic rise within him. "I thought you said first thing in the morning?"

"We changed our minds," the woman informed him crisply before turning to her daughter. "I've packed you a bag. Your father's driving you."

Spencer slowly tore her eyes away from her mother to look at him. It sent chills up his spine when he realized that for the first time since he could remember, he didn't have a clue what she was thinking. Her eyes were troubled for sure, but he couldn't tell if she was sad or mad or both, and it made him feel worthless in ways he couldn't even begin to describe.

"I'm sorry," he mouthed, though for what he wasn't really sure.

"Let's go," Veronica spoke firmly, and Spencer obeyed like the compliant daughter they'd always wanted her to be. The three of them wordlessly headed down the stairs, where Peter was already waiting by the open back door.

"Wait," Veronica suddenly said, catching Spencer by the arm. With out a word, she drew her daughter into a short, slightly awkward and yet still heartfelt embrace.

When they broke apart, Spencer's eyes landed on him and Toby felt his insides melt when she started walking in his direction. He didn't feel comfortable kissing her in front of her parents, but he held her close for as long he dared, breathing her in. His fingers disappeared in her hair and stroked down her back, and he couldn't stop himself from whispering, "I love you" against her skin.

She felt almost limp in his arms, but he swore she held on a little tighter upon hearing his words.

He kissed her cheek as they parted, and instinctively reached for the leather jacket he'd worn on the way over here, wrapping it around her tiny frame. He had no idea where the elegant white cardigan was that she'd had on at his loft earlier today, but he did know he wasn't letting her out into the night with bare arms.

He felt the insufferable threat of tears as he watched her walk away, looking so small and in fragile in the jacket that was an unknown amount of sizes too big on her. He pinched his own leg through his jeans, thinking he'd rather swallow a battery than cry in front of her parents.

She didn't look back at him before she disappeared into the dark, and it just about killed him. He and Veronica stood there, frozen in their spots for moments after the door slammed shut. Finally, she turned to him.

He knew with one look that he wouldn't at all like what she had to say.