A/N: WOW. I got to my target number of reviews in only a day! I am so grateful to all of you who keep reading, asking questions, commenting and praising the writing of this story. You're all inspiring me to keep writing. I never thought this would take off the way it has, or that I'd even be able to write as much as I have. Let's see if we can get to 12 reviews for the next update, and a sneak peek for the first nine reviews! (It is not written yet but will be shortly!) Enjoy!

Wren fed off of Spencer's insecurities and fear. For him, it wasn't about an attraction to a younger girl. That was just perverse. It was mostly unconscious, actually. He was so abused emotionally and controlled by Melissa, that he ached for control and power. Spencer happened to look very similar to Melissa in a lot of ways, but lacked her dominance. There, he found his middle ground.

"Wren!" Spencer screamed, wrapping herself in the shower curtain.

Today marked the second time in a week that he'd walked in on Spencer in the shower. He was getting good at jiggling the lock open rather quietly.

He made a delighted face. "Baby steps," he said with a smirk. "You'll come around soon and I'll be joining you in there before you know it." He said, winking at her while shutting the door. Spencer just scoffed, wanting to crawl into a hole. She hated the way he spoke to her.

It had been a week since the incident following the painful dinner that welcomed Melissa and Wren back into the House of Hastings. Well, a week and a day. But who was counting?

Since then, Spencer had made three more cuts into her thighs accompanying the three she had made the first night. Old habits die hard.

In that time, Spencer had been blowing off Toby. She was feeling embarrassed and sad and didn't want him to know this side of her any more than he already did. He'd already seen her at a low point, and this was even worse. She would see him for twenty minutes at The Brew or sit in his truck after school, but then make an excuse to go home or insist he not come to the dance studio because she was too busy. She went on and on about being overbooked and stress for the end-of-year recital.

And he wanted to believe her so badly, despite the way he could tell just by her breathing on the other end of the phone that everything wasn't as okay as she tried to make it seem. But there was a point when he was getting too suspicious, and was damn curious why she was pulling away. He was so worried still, caught up in the anxieties about his mother. But he realized he was probably being hyper-sensitive and just creating the space between them in his head because of his anxieties.

But he missed her. Sure, he had seen her here and there, but he missed her. She wasn't herself lately. He stopped by on his way to a doctor's appointment. "Hey, Spence," he jogged up her driveway towards her as she headed towards her car. "I'm glad I caught you." he said, kissing her.

"Hi," She smiled. Truth was, she missed him too. Her pulling back and the changes he was picking up on changed their dynamic completely, not just his experience. She wasn't able to enjoy herself and let go and trust the way she had before. She was just scared she'd made too much of a mess, embarrassed as if he had known what Melissa had said and recognized it as the truth, too. Feeling at odds with the world, as if he was in on some big joke. At the same time, recognizing that he really did try so hard for her. And then feeling worse about her doubts, making for cyclic guilt, paranoia and upset day after day after day.

"I don't care about rehearsals or school work or anything. It's the weekend and we're all hanging out tonight. You don't have dinner tonight, do you?"

"Well…funny story. Wren and Melissa moved in. So kind of, because now that's every night. But… I don't have to be there." She said swinging her keys around her index finger, looking up at him for the first time since he walked up onto her property.

"Why didn't you tell me that?" He made a face, unsure why they'd move back in, and not buying that Spencer was happy bout that.

"It just happened really fast." she said quickly. "But yeah, invite everybody over here like we talked about? And pick a movie. Maybe we can have dinner together before everyone comes over." She suggested. "I'm running a little late but…text me?" She offered, smiling a little. She felt shy all of a sudden around him, as if he didn't hold her naked, trembling crying body at 2AM before. As if he didn't study her movements and changes in her tone of voice, completely enamored by even the littlest of things, therefore know her better than she could ever really know.

"I love that idea," he said smiling. "Come here, you can take one more minute." he said, pinning her against her own car, kissing her lips and neck and making her squirm and melt underneath him. No matter how much doubt she possessed, or how sad and far gone she felt, his touch always made her feel safe. Even when they were arguing. He made her feel like the world could change.

His hands went up the front of her dress slightly to pin her legs back to make her stop moving when he grazed over the cuts. He went to ask, but she made a face and he started to second guess himself. Maybe those were always there? Did I already know about those? Either way, her driveway probably isn't the place to—

His thoughts were cut off by the alarm on his phone. "Shit, I'm gonna be late, too. I have a doctor's appointment. Anyway, I'll see you tonight. No excuses." He smiled, laying once last kiss on her forehead before jogging across the street to his car.

She nodded and got into her own car to run some errands. She felt panicked that he may have felt the scars, but he didn't bring it up. So maybe he didn't notice? She didn't know if that made her more relived or sad that he may not have noticed.

I really was starting to believe he loved me… He might still…he just…she thought, but decided she was relieved in either case, because she was ashamed of her own actions, and was trying to stop it. But her whole family together, plus Wren, was making that really hard.

xx

"What were going to the doctor for before, anyway?" Spencer asked as she took the pizza cutter from the drawer and got plates. They were eating alone before everyone else came over, and her family was out for the night, so it was just them. "Are you okay?" She would never not worry about his well being.

"Physical for USC. They actually just let me know they are flying me out Memorial Day weekend for an admitted students event to meet our peers and get some tours in and stuff…" He watched her pick at her food and was suddenly having flashbacks to when he nursed her back to health after the adderall episode, where he basically fought her to drink a cup of soup.

"That's funny, that's the weekend I was going to be traveling to California…"

"For what?" He said, taking a giant bite of pizza. He could practically finish a slice in two bites.

"Remember that convention where my solo was picked to be shown and some of my other choreography? I was going to guest-teach a seminar but, uh, my parents didn't like the idea since UPenn is having some events that weekend too and they wanted me to network…and it'll be easier to let go of this whole dance thing the sooner I pull myself out of all of these commitments anyway."

"But that is such a good thing for you to be doing…that's gotta be great for your resume…"

"Yeah, if I was going to be dancing forever, but I have to…"

"You don't have to do anything you don't want to do." He said sternly, causing her to sit up a little bit, fixing her posture against the back of the chair. "Did you even talk to them?" Toby furrowed his brow. "You should be dancing. It's what you like and what you're good at."

"Toby, please." She said softly.

"No, don't. One of the first times I ever saw you really, truly smile was when you told me you wanted to dance." He said slamming his cup down onto the table harder than he meant to, spilling a bit over the top of the glass. "I didn't even know your smiles weren't genuine until I saw the real thing. That was when I'd already known you for, like, months. Come on, Spencer. That's not just something you throw away!"

"Enough, Toby! I get it, but it's just a hobby! I can always go back to it. This is about having a future that…"

"That what?! That they can be proud of?! Since when has that mentality gotten you anywhere? It's a shit excuse, Spencer. A reaaaalllly shitty excuse. And I think that you know that it's shit. I think you're just scared of letting yourself do something that might actually make you fucking happy. And you shouldn't be. Damn it!" He got all rough with his pizza, grabbing another slice voraciously. It half scared Spencer and half was kind of weirdly endearing because a pizza is not usually a thing people take their anger out on.

She ripped the crust from her pizza and started tearing off pieces of the bread to eat little by little. She took a deep breath before answering him, because the last thing she wanted to do was fight with him. Or really just address what he'd just said. Because he was kinda right. And it made her mad that he knew her so well. He was always paying attention, always watching. "No. It's about having stability. I could maybe dance until I'm 30 or so…that's not that long. I already have bad ankles and my hip is always popping out, and it just isn't something that I can do forever. And that's if I even get into a company or a program at a school somewhere. It's so late in the year for that."

"But you could open a studio, like you've talked about…how fucking cool was it that that little girl from the supermarket came to class last weekend? Because of you. You already proved you got this. Just fucking go for it, fuck your parents."

She didn't answer him, just picked at her pizza crust.

"What if you just went to the conference? Convention…whatever it is. And just see. UPenn isn't going anywhere. You can visit anytime, your family makes up half the freakin alumni association, I'm sure if you wanted a tour another day…"

"It would never work out, Toby. There's too much… and it's coming up soon…"

"Well, that's the best part…I, uh… I get airfare and a room for two since my dad is supposed to come with me, but he can't…cause, of, uh…work." He lied on the spot. "You should come with me. And you could go to your convention and we could use it as a little mini-vacation when we're not busy. That'll save you the airfare and hotel room so your parents—" he actually hadn't told his dad many details yet, just a quick email, since his dad was still on his "business trip," trying as hard as he could to get anything he could possibly get done away from Rosewood done. If he hadn't had his own company and house and Toby wasn't so involved in school, they probably would have moved out years ago. The town was haunted for Mr. Cavanaugh. And sometimes, for Toby too. But that wasn't the focus right now. He wanted to bring Spencer with him.

"It's not about the money." She spat out, taking his now empty plate over to the sink and throwing out her barely touched slice, cleaning up to distract herself from the fight looming over them, waiting to blow up. She didn't want to argue anymore about this. He didn't understand. He always told her to live for herself instead of them, but he didn't come from a family like hers. He didn't understand how much harder that was to do than he thought.

"But if it's paid for you don't have to rely on them then it doesn't matter."

"Toby, I said I can't." she said sternly as she started to clean the dishes they'd used, plus whatever else was left in the sink.

He got up to stand closer to her. "You have to stand up to them eventually, Spencer. I did it for you once, and we both know how well that went…You need to do it for yourself." He sounded calmer this time, but it was contrastingly getting more of a rise out of her.

"I didn't ask you to do that," she grumbled.

"That's not what I said," he exhaled loudly. He was so frustrated with her. It was like she liked being controlled and unhappy. His hands where clenched into fists by his sides, trying to hold back from all of the pent up rage. He wished he could just shake it right out of her. "The point is—"

"The point is, I can't go, Okay? So just stop it." She said loudly, harshly cleaning a knife while she argues with him, slicing open her hand as the knife cut through the thin towel she was using to dry the dishes. She made a small noise but just put the knife on the counter and applied pressure with the towel.

"Spence…" He saw blood drip onto the floor.

"I'm fine," She said running her hand under the water.

"You did that on purpose," his tone changed, suddenly accusing her. His fists turned into trembling hands, waving in the air while he spoke because she always had him not knowing what to do or say. Most of the time it was awesome, but this was quite the opposite.

"What?! Why would I—"

"I don't know, why do you have cuts all over your legs?! What about that scar on your arm?! That was an accident too, right?!" His words came out nastier than he meant them. He was just so frustrated with her because she wasn't letting him save her. His frustration and anger wasn't at her, per se, but at the fact that he wanted so badly to save her and it wasn't working out that way. He was scared as hell she'd end up six feet under like his mother.

"You have no idea what you're talking about," she snarled. "Not about this, not about California, not about me. You think you know but you don't!" She yelled as she shoved the faucet to it's off setting and went to the cabinet where they kept the first-aid stuff and got out a bandage. Her anger was also misplaced. She was angry that he saw through her. Mad that he didn't understand the politics of the Hastings family. Mad because she knew he might be right on some level but she wasn't strong enough to listen to him and rebel from her parents' strict restraints.

"I know that you're making a mistake, not letting me help you out of everything your trapped in. Come on, don't you trust me? I can't keep watching you hurt. Literally!" His voice cracked as he slowly edged near her, wanting to help her cover the cut on her hand, wanting to kiss all of pain away or better yet just somehow vacuum it all out.

"It's not about trust! Of course I trust you!" She slammed the cabinet shut, visibly fighting with the first aid kit latch as her own shaky hands couldn't open it. "You just don't understand the situation! My family! You don't understand what it's like here!"

"I understand that you need to stop trying so hard to please them with all these things that are making you unhappy. You're literally killing yourself over…over what?! Is it worth it?!"

"Killing myself?! I'm perfectly fine!" She choked out, the first aid kit finally snapping open, half of it's contents popping up into the air or flying out onto the counter. She moved on to fight with some band-aid wrappers, her sights fixated on that rather than him.

"I felt those cuts Spencer!" He yelled, putting his hand over hers to make her stop looking at the band-aids. "I am not going to watch you do this, I'm NOT going to watch you self-destruct and die…You need to stop! I won't lose you, too! I won't!" He started to get choked up. More choked up than before. His voice was all crackly and his hands shook worse than hers. His face had no color except the deep pink in his cheeks and ears. His eyes seemed ever more shockingly blue when the irises were magnified by tears. She didn't like looking at him like that. So she moved his hand and kept going with the first aid box.

"Yeah, like you don't do the same thing, the way you smoke half a pack a day and play speed demon on that stupid bike of yours…"

"Don't go there!" He yelled. "Those are just hobbies, ill-advised hobbies, maybe. Maybe even bad habits. But I'm in control of all of that. I'm not doing it to hurt myself. It's not hurting anybody when I light up a cigarette or go for a ride. But why would you pick up a razor if you weren't going to hurt - intend on this…on purpose! You're going to end up cutting too deep, going too far to please those assholes…and…you just don't know what you're doing! This isn't just about you! When you hurt yourself it affects me too!" he was so desperate, seeing not Spencer in front of him but his own mother before her own untimely death. He looked like he could just fall onto the floor.

"I just need to do better!" She said, even more desperately, at a breaking point about her parents and the feeling that her life was spinning out of her control because she couldn't keep up in the ways she seemed to be expected to do. Part of her still truly held onto the idea that if she were just a little smarter, a little prettier, a little more like Melissa, that everything would just click into place. She could be a better girlfriend worthy of his time, a beloved daughter, and more importantly, happy and confident enough to stop her self-destructive vices and additions.

Both of them had tears in their eyes at this point. She was finally coming to a breaking point of what it came down to - trying so hard to be Melissa 2.0. In her mind, it wasn't just a want or a desire. It was a necessity. If she wasn't living up to their expectations, what was the point? It was the solution to all of this madness. He didn't understand the Hastings-institutionalized distress and abuse thrust upon her. All he saw was a family of assholes who couldn't see the wonderful girl he did, and a wonderful girl who saw the assholes as something better than they were.

"NO, SPENCER, YOU DON'T." he got closer. "You need to cut the crap and realize—"

"What?! What do I need to realize, Toby? Huh?!" She was angry now. He thought he knew but he didn't. Not everything.

"THAT THEY'LL NEVER LOVE YOU." He blurted out.

She stepped back, her lip quivering. She took a moment, pretending to be fixated on the bandage placement before breathing in and out through puckered lips, forcing the air out carefully so she wouldn't explode. Her eyes filled with tears, but the forceful breathing allowed her to keep them from actually falling down her face.

"Spencer, that's not what I meant to…that came out wrong." He went to come closer to envelope her and comfort her, but she put her hand up to stop him, ignoring his words. He entangled their fingers and she didn't pull away, but she didn't really hold his hand back, either.

"They love me…they're my mom and dad; they love me…" she said softly, but it came out more like she was trying to convince herself than tell him off. If he could see their inability to accept her and love her as their child, it meant it was obvious, because he had been in her life for less than a year and he knew what she always knew in the back of her mind. They wouldn't ever love her. Because she was unloveable. She had a tick in her mind that made her unable to separate her ability to be loved with her parents' love towards her. Somehow in the tangled webs of her brain, not being loved by her parents, by the people who were supposed to love you unconditionally, meant she couldn't be loved at all. It was the reason she pushed Toby away, the reason it caused her so much hurt and pain and fear, even, to hear him say those words. Because that meant she might tease herself with false hope for her parents, her family, and herself, and maybe worse - she might believe him.

"They're just…not so good at expressing it all the time…" She added, wiping her eyes with the heel of the hand he wasn't holding. She remembered a time when she asked him why her parents didn't love her, and in that moment, she had been upset and exaggerating. But even if she kind of knew, it was different having him scream it in her face. He wasn't supposed to be the one to bring pain to her.

"I just worry about you," he said, defeated. "I…" He was going to say it, he didn't care if she would get angry. He saw how much pain boiled up into her eyes and face when the wrong combination of words slipped out of her mouth, and he felt like even if it hurt more, for reasons he still couldn't fully grasp, he needed her to know she was loved by him, if no one else. He wanted to take it back. He thought it was possible they didn't love her at all. In fact, probable. He still kept secret the conversations he'd had with her parents when she wasn't around, the ones where his heart broke for her, because they really expected the worst from her. But at the same time, he had meant to convey to her that no matter what she did, regardless of it was the kind of thing they thought was the right thing or not, she would never get the kind of love and praise he could tell she was too shy and too scared to admit to really wanting - no, needing, from them. And then maybe accepting it from him, too. He went to pull her whole body in towards his, but she spun out of his reach, taking her hand away with her.

"Well don't. I stopped worrying about me a long time ago." She exhaled loudly. Her eyes looked empty, and she felt like she was punched in the gut. "I don't have to be your mess to clean up." She said sharply, speaking to the time she'd overheard him yelling at her parents, telling them to be nicer to her because she was a mess. He didn't know she'd overheard, but she did. And it really upset her more that she cared to admit that she wasn't the shiny new penny of a girl she felt like she could be when she was with him, because he saw through it to the mess she knew she was deep down.

He wanted to respond, knowing exactly where she got the words, the subtle twist in her tone of voice meant to dig at him and let him know that she had heard that conversation. But before he could get in a word edgewise, she continued. "They're going to be here any minute. Can you just go get the DVD ready outside? I have to pop the popcorn."

"Spencer…forget the popcorn. Can we please talk about what just happened? I never meant any of—"

"There's nothing to talk about." She shrugged. She exhaled and wiped her face again, going up on her tippy toes as she kissed him as quickly as she could before putting the first aid box back into the cabinet, as if nothing was wrong. "Can you just get the DVD outside?"

"I want to talk to you." He demanded.

"Fine, I'll go outside and set up. You pop the popcorn. You know where it is." She said, walking out the door.

Toby watched her walk out the door, and watched out the window as he popped the popcorn, petrified to not listen to her, and more petrified to let her out of his sight. He had been so afraid that her family, that her habits were poison… at worst, a suicide risk. At best, controlling her life and her happiness. But it was him that was going pushing her over the edge.

What have I done…?

PLEASE DON'T HATE ME FOR THIS CHAPTER. I've said it to all of you, and I'll say it again: I want this story to be messy and realistic. It's not fluff, although once in a while I throw you a chapter or a scene. Like Spoby's fights in 5x15, and always, it's because they care for each other almost too much. But I promise this is a Spoby love story, and it will stay that way.