Stole my moms computer so you guys could have something to tide you over, worst case scenario. But I'll keep working on my ipad. I wouldn't have offered if I minded, sillies.

SO review, okay? It'll make me feel better about my busted lap top :(.

Next chapter will be this stuff from Toby's POV. I AM SO SORRY about the cliffy at the end. But I'm not. The only reason I'm sorry is because of the little wait.

OKAY LOVE YOU. Review.

Chapter 12

SPOV

It was like everything was happening whilst half asleep, in that space between dream and awake. Guns exploding. The scratching of wood against her bare arms. Toby's toned body pressed into her weak, shaking one. Jason might not have killed her, but he had done some significant damage. Her injuries combined with the lingering effects of the drugs that she had been kept under with were keeping everything blurry.

Was this even happening? Because it was easier to believe that her mind was playing tricks on her than it was to believe that Aria had been the one betraying them all along.

Even still, she tugged at Toby's shirt. That idiot wasn't getting killed for her. He had to get down. He adjusted his arms, practically wrapping them around her neck. His shoulders bent over her head, completely covering her from any harm. But none of that mattered if he got hurt.

Literally the only thing keeping her grounded was Toby's arms. Because she didn't think that her mind could so vividly conjure the rapturous, unwaveringly safe feelings that those arms produced. Toby couldn't stop everything, but if he was capable of protecting her he would do it. And that blue. There was no way that her inadequate mind painted that entrancing, ocean blue without an immediate reference. No, this couldn't be a dream.

But that meant that Aria was -A, and that was nearly incomprehensible. How? Why? But she had actually pretty effectually explained why; she was crazy. And that was honestly the only explanation she could see. But it stung all the same. She had trusted Aria. She had loved her, and God knows she didn't let herself love easily. There was always the possibility that they would leave her if she didn't prove herself a good enough daughter, girlfriend, sister, friend... but the girls? She thought that they'd always be there. This day was proving how, almost deadly, wrong she had been.

Toby's hands on her face gently, always so gently, directing her gaze up were the only thing that stopped her from guilt spiraling. Because this was her fault. Emily and Hanna were by no means stupid, but humility aside, she was bar none the most intelligent of the four of them. That was what she brought to the table, and she failed them so astronomically.

The gun shots stopped, she thought. But she didn't no for sure because her ears were filled with a ringing. Kind of like when you held a sea shell to your ear, but that reflected back one hundred fold.

"Spencer!"

It sounded like she was underwater and he was yelling at her from the shore. And maybe she was, because she certainly felt like she was drowning. She couldn't breath. Her chest was on fire. Maybe she was dying. Maybe death would be a relief.

She was so cold. He felt like a furnace. His firey hands didn't stray from her face, but his eyes weren't on her anymore. They were looking somewhere over his shoulder until they weren't. The blue pierced into her like a knife. But not like a knife, because it didn't hurt. It felt like he was looking into her soul. But he had always been able to see right through her. She shouldn't have been surprised.

She stared out over Rosewood, her thoughts lingering on whispered thoughts, murder accusations, and an unfounded reputation. It was so much like the first time Toby brought her up here, except now she was the one with an impending jail sentence hanging over their head. And Toby was wholeheartedly on her side.

She was scared. And she was ashamed. She never should have treated Toby like that. She hadn't known him all that well back then, but she had seen his gentleness when Ali poked fun at him. She should have known he couldn't have hurt her. And to think, all he had done was given her a sweater. If there was anything she couldn't forgive Alison for it was that. She didn't care if she had some grand plan that got them out of this -A mess. She would never forgive the blonde for what she did to Toby.

"What's wrong, Spence?"

She frowned, having almost forgotten he was with her. "Nothing."

"Spencer," he sighed with his lips at the pulse point on her neck. He didn't have to elaborate. His exasperation with her partial truths was palpable.

"I'm just sorry." What was the point in lying to Toby anymore? He knew all about -A, and he could pick her emotions out of her eyes with ease.

His lips lingered for another second before pulling away to look at her. "What are you talking about?"

"I never should have believed you hurt Alison." He wasn't going to like that, but he liked her lies even less.

His hands were almost immediately on her face, directing her diverted gaze to him. "Are we back to that. You didn't know me, sweetheart."

"I know, but I think I regret it even more now that I know what it feels like to have no one believe in you."

His leaned forward, tapping their foreheads together. "I'll always believe in you."

She sighed, almost content for the first time in a long time. "That's the only thing that's going to get me through this."

They weren't in the house anymore. The cold December air chilled her arms and brought her back to her senses. Toby wasn't trying to get her attention anymore. He had, apparently, grown tired of it and decided to bodily carry her out of the house and into her own. Still not feeling up to talking loud enough for him to hear over the chatter of their friends, the nearing police sirens, and the wind, she put a hand on his bicep. It was only when she touched his arm that she realized how badly she was shaking. What was wrong with her?

He came to a stop, hunkering down next to a tree and pulling her tightly into his embrace. Before she even realized what he was doing he had shrugged out of his jacket and wrapped it around her. His face was buried in her neck, and his tears were soaking straight through her thin cotton shirt and into her skin. And it was only then that she realized he was the one shaking, not her.

But for once she didn't feel inadequate. She knew exactly what he was going through, because she had lived it not that long ago. It was the worst feeling, nearly unendurable. "I'm okay, Toby. I promise, baby. I'm just fine."

He just shook his head, pulling her closer if it was possible. But that was okay. She was kind of worried about breaking him in half, based on the force she was applying. "I'm fine. Maybe I need the hospital," she admitted reluctantly. "but I'm fine. I'm not dead, and I'm so sorry you had to go through that."

He looked at her with blood shot eyes, and for the first time she was really seeing him; she was seeing how exhausted, how ragged he looked. And it was breaking her heart. Why was it that she brought her angel so close to hell again and again? Would she ever be enough to just make him happy?

"I'm so sorry," she whispered. "I'm so sorry."

He just looked at her. "You're okay?" He matched her hushed tone. "You're really here?"

It didn't matter what they had just gone through. She wasn't even sure what had happened. But what she was sure of was that if she hadn't known that Toby Cavanaugh was the love of her life she would have known the moment he looked at her like that. His eyes were filled with a perfect mixture of angst and love and sadness and gentleness and anger. But there was just so much love. She could answer him, but what good would that do? Instead she pulled on his shirt again, bringing his lips far enough down that she could kiss him soundly.

When they broke apart for air she just rested her forehead against his collarbone. "I'm here," she murmured.

They sat like that for awhile, her fingers rubbing out a comforting circle on his back and his gentle hands brushing over her hair. She didn't know how long it had been when she pulled away, the shoulder of his jacket sliding down hers. "What happened in there? How did we get away?"

He looked over her shoulder, absentmindedly adjusting the jacket back over her shoulder. "The ambulance is here. Can you walk or do you want me to carry you?"

"Toby," she protested softly, now sure that something went wrong, based upon his avoidance of the question.

He kissed her forehead, pulled the hood over her head, and lifted her back into his arms, carrying her off to the help that she needed. "Focus on you. Once we get to the hospital I'll tell you everything."

"No," she insisted. "Tell me now. What happened? Did someone get hurt?"

His eyes flickered briefly from her face. He looked back down at her almost immediately, but it wasn't fast enough for her to not catch it. She grabbed his shirt, pulling herself up enough to see what she never wanted to see. Two men carried a black bag out of the house, solemn faces all around. She looked wildly, but Toby was the only person she cared about in sight. "Who?" She demanded.

"Breath," he persisted. "You aren't breathing, and I'm not okay with that."

Breathing be damned. "Who?" In her head she was shouting, but her voice came out a breathy sob. "Who was it?"