Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot.

This is a no hate story. I do ship a lot of minority ships in the Pretty Little Lairs Universe, so if you don't like Spaleb or Paily or Hanna x Jordan, you likely won't like this story. Please do not hate on this. It's a story for me by me. I just thought I'd share for any Spaleb shippers still out there. It should be noted I haven't watched the full show in years, and I was in and out watching it, because let's be real, it could be ridiculous.

Trembling. That was an interesting word and action, yet there she was trembling. Quaking. Nauseated. All of the above. She would be laughing if it weren't such a serious matter. If it weren't her matter. Happy laughter, in fact. She had the expression plastered in her mind, how she would stand, how she would clap, how she would eagerly jump in for a hug—all of it. It was to be a hugely beautiful and life-affirming moment, but it wasn't meant for her. It wasn't meant to be her moment. It wasn't meant to be like this. Please, no.

Spencer Hastings lowered a trembling hand and sputtered out a shaky sob, looking at the silver stick in her hand as the positive result stared back at her. She snuffled and quivered, setting the stick down beside her on the edge of the tub before sinking back into it, pulling her legs up and ignoring how her toes uncomfortably bent in her boots. She sat there and sobbed.

This wasn't the life she had planned. She wanted to become so much more than a single mother at twenty-five. She wanted to become someone. She wanted to explore life and—and the world. She wanted—Fuck. Her entire life was going to become piss and shit and crying and diapers, and she had no idea how to handle that. She wasn't equipped to handle this. She was a logical mind with very little maternal instinct. She couldn't do this. She could not fucking do this.

Hours passed as she sat there, the tears had come and gone, and her face was sticky and stained in their wake. She once more held the stick in her hand and twirled it around and around in her fingers, looking downward at the test with her head rested on her shoulder. She heard commotion downstairs and was numb to it. She was numb to the entire world, and should it decide to come and prick her, she would feel nothing, only see the blood.

"Spencer?" This voice belonged to her mother, Veronica, and there was another pause before her voice came once more, closer. "Spencer, are you up there?"

She moaned softly and looked over at the doorway, waiting for her mother at the sound of heels. She heard the door creak open and in flooded her mother's words, finally breaching the bubble Spencer had spent the last four or more hours building.

"…saw your car out front and were wondering what you were doing here." Veronica's eyes landed on the little blue box resting on the counter then flitted over to her daughter curled up in a ball in the tub, her appearance pallor and sickly. The little silver stick tumbling loudly against the marble tub, and Veronica gulped. "Oh, baby."

"Mom…." The tears Spencer thought had gone away for good came roaring back, she crawled up onto her knees and into her mom's arms, collapsing onto the rug just outside the tub. She buried her face in her shoulder and bawled, nails digging into her soft blazer, and the scent of lilies sweeping across her nose.

"Shh, shhh." Veronica rubbed her back and held her little girl close, knowing without asking what the blatant results were, and she hoped Peter stayed downstairs to put the groceries away. This was a mother-daughter moment, and it didn't involve anyone else just yet. Clearly Spencer was fragile to the news, and this wasn't a time for crowding. She would handle this. She could handle this. She'd gotten this news before. Only it was happy news to her. Sort of still was, if it went the way she couldn't help but hope it did. "I'm here. It's all right."

"No." Spencer broke away and sputtered. "Mom, this is so not okay." Her voice was hoarse and deep, unfamiliar to her, and she whimpered. "It's not all right."

"Okay, you're right. I'm sorry. C'mere." She helped her up onto her feet and grabbed a face towel from its resting place turned on the hot water, rinsing warm water over the rag and facing her daughter. "C'mere."

Spencer closed her eyes, fresh tears falling, and the warm cloth touched her face, washing off her tear streaks and rubbing it all clean. She smiled at the scent of their detergent and its warm crossing her face in its hunt for stains. She felt calmer now, but chaos lurked just beneath. There was little she could do to stop what was happening, and she knew that. She knew all of her options, but most of all, she knew she was on a timer. Just like old times, eh?

"There. All clean." Veronica folded the towel and set it on the sink, picking up the Clear Blue package. "Good choice."

"Thanks, Mom." It came out bitter and sarcastic, and her eyes opened to see her picking up the test. "Mom, don't. I peed on that."

"Yes, I know how it works." She read the results. "It assumes you're over two weeks. How long do you say?"

"Mom." Spencer griped. "Can we not do this? Please?"

"Then should I wait until the baby gets here and then do it?" she challenged with an arched brow, and Spencer scoffed, crossing her arms across her chest defensively but it was an open to conversation gesture—albeit unwillingly. "Good. Now, how far along are you? When was your fertile period?"

"Oh, God, Mom!" Spencer rolled her eyes. "Really? That's how you want to ask me? My fertile period? What am I, a baby machine?"

"Well, you're certainly shooting high, if you were."

"I'm nine weeks late," Spencer replied.

"Jesus Christ, Spencer, nine weeks and you just now noticed something was wrong?" She tossed the test into the package and set it back on the sink.

"I've been busy," Spencer retorted. "With work from your firm! I've been overworked for weeks now, so it's really a miracle this baby didn't stress eject itself from me."

"You should have told me you were overworked. I would have done something about it."

"No, I like…. I like to have various projects to keep me busy." She tapped her foot on the floor and wet her lips. "I'm good at my job, and I love challenges."

"So this has nothing to do with a certain wedding happening next month?" Veronica inquired, and Spencer looked away. "You haven't spoken to the girls since you and Caleb broke up. You've distanced yourself from the family. This is the first time I've seriously spoken to you outside of work in weeks, Spence. I am concerned about you. Even more so now."

"Well…." Was all she could find herself saying as she tried to excuse or at least defend her actions over the last couple or more weeks. She sighed again. "I'm sorry."

"I don't want you to be sorry, Spence. I want you to be here. I want you to be actively involved in your own life. I mean, I thought you had it all together when you and Toby when out for dinner last week, but…that was just a ruse, wasn't it?"

"Toby is…familiar and pleasant to be around," Spencer remarked. "I like Toby."

"You make him sound like an old pair of shoes."

"What? N—no, no. Of course not." She shook her head. "You're so wrong."

"Am I? You sound defensive."

"Because I am defending my relationship with Toby." She raised her hand to halt the conversation. "And this isn't about Toby. This is about the pregnancy test I just took."

"You took a pregnancy test?" Peter echoed from the hall.

Spencer's eyes widened and inwardly she cursed. "Dad…."

They took the conversation downstairs, Peter and Veronica sat down on the couch while Spencer sat staring hard at the damned pregnancy test box someone had dragged down here with them, and Veronica filled Peter in on the conversation thus far. Spencer crossed her legs and placed her arms around her stomach as she drew air into her lungs at its full capacity. She exhaled it and prepared for this conversation.

"You're nine weeks pregnant?" Peter tried to keep cool about this, but this was his baby. This was his little girl, his smart and sensible little girl. It made no sense. She wasn't the type to not use protection, and honestly, he didn't want to consider how she ended up in this situation.

"I dunno." She shrugged a shoulder. "I think. I'm about nine weeks late."

"You don't know." He nodded his head. "Well, I think it's time you find out. I'll schedule an appointment with our doctor, and we'll get to the bottom of this."

Spencer laughed. For the first time since she received the notion of being pregnant, she laughed from the pit of her stomach and exhaled it deeply through her lips. She couldn't help but snicker and wheeze at his words. "Dad, we know what happened. There is no bottom to get down to. I had sex and got pregnant. I… screwed up."

"It wasn't just you," Veronica remarked. "It is a two-person job."

"Yeah, I know. I was one of them."

"And who was the other?" Peter demanded. "Who's the father?"

Spencer stopped smiling instantly, it shriveled up on the spot, and she rubbed her arms. "Nine plus weeks ago I was involved with Caleb."

"Oh, shit," Peter pronounced.

"Yes, welcome to my new dilemma." She heaved a sigh and shook her head. "I can't tell him."

"The hell you can't. It's his responsibility, too."

"Dad—"

"No, Spence, he is going to be involved with this. It's his baby, and he has a right to know."

"I don't even know if I'm having it or—or keeping it," Spence sputtered. "Let me try and get my head on straight before I drag another one into this."

"Wait, wait, wait." Veronica set a hand on Peter's arm. "If you're keeping it?"

"I haven't decided on anything," Spencer stood up. "Don't force me to have this child. I need to know…what I want. All right? Give me time, please."

"Well, please let me know if you plan to abort my grandchild," Peter spewed, rising to be at the same level as his daughter before stalking off.

"Dad!"

"Spencer, give him time. This is news to us all." Veronica rose and set a hand on her daughter's arm. "Why don't you go upstairs? I'll make you some tea."

"I—I need some air, actually, but um, thank you." She collected the Clear Blue test box and dropped it into the trash, collecting her coat and heading out for some nice, refreshing spring air.

Her boots hit the ground with lumbering thuds as she carried herself along, shaking her hands out to try and shake out the feeling this pregnancy was invoking. She couldn't handle this. She wanted to be strong and brave, as she had all her teenage years. She wanted to come out boxing, meeting this challenge head-on with no fears, but this wasn't some figure in the back of her life. This was a baby. This was a whole new life she was creating. A lovely little baby with little toes and little fingers and…

Abortion wasn't an option. She couldn't end a life simply because she made a mistake with a contraceptive. She couldn't do that. Melissa would never forgive her after Taylor, and honestly, Aria might have a problem with it, too. They hadn't spoken in weeks, but they had years and tears and trauma to bond them. They had such a history and connection, and she knew she could count on Aria. She wasn't sure how to break this news to her, but she'd have to give a try. Because like it or not, this baby was going to have life.

She couldn't speak yet on what kind of life—a life with her, a life with a couple who couldn't have one on their own. She didn't know. For the first time in the past five years, she had no clue what the future held. She had no clue what tomorrow had waiting for her. She wanted to pretend, for even a second, that it would all be all right. That she could go about her life normally, could go about her friendships and relationships as though nothing had changed.

However, that was wishful thinking. She was too old for that line of thinking. Hopeful thinking. It wasn't like she could tell her best friend she was pregnant by her fiancé, because of a short-lived lust that went nowhere. She couldn't tell Hanna. She couldn't tell Caleb. To tell Caleb would be to tell Hanna and vice versa. She couldn't bear it. She knew there was no way around it, because this wasn't just her child. It was Caleb's, too, and after the life he's had, he'd want to be involved in any decision she made. Hell, he might want to take the baby and raise it with Hanna. And she could go back to her own life. She could, if he wanted that.

A wave of nausea coursed through her stomach, she gagged and brought her hand up to her mouth, looking for a trashcan. She didn't have any such luck in this part of the neighborhood, and she settled for calming herself down. She inhaled deeply and rapidly to try and calm the bile rising up in her throat, churning her insides and twisting them up and up and up….

She retched into nearby bushes, gripping her knees for a moment before gathering her hair up off her shoulders. She coughed and gagged before heaving once more, and she groaned, closing her eyes to the sight of her lunch in chunks at her feet. She stepped back and looked around to ensure nobody saw this display and scurried out of there.

By the time she returned home, her stomach had settled and demanded food. Luckily Mom had cooked up a feast of her favorite foods, and Spencer laughed at the sight of it, covering her with her hand and almost giddily approaching the foods. She was starving, and it smelled amazing in here. She couldn't believe it. It was…probably a move for her to keep the child, but hey, who could turn down these eats?

"Oh, you're home." Veronica smiled. "How are you feeling?"

"I am starving." She hopped up onto a stool and helped herself to the nearest available food. "This looks wonderful. You didn't have to do this. I actually wish you hadn't because it feels like a trap."

"It's not a trap." She set her hands on the counter and leaned towards her daughter. "I want to speak to you seriously about this pregnancy."

"Mom, please, trust me when I say: I have no clue where I am with this pregnancy." She tapped the end of the fork against the counter and bit her bottom lip.

"Are you going to tell Caleb?"

"Eventually. I have no choice but to tell him. We made the…uh, it together, so he has the right." She met her mother's eyes. "Any advice?"

"You're asking me?"

"Well, I'd ask God, but clearly he made me a punchline, so."

She chuckled. "Well, Spence, I have no advice for you. I can only tell you from experience that having a child is…such a delicate and vital process. It changes every aspect of your life. You can't half ass this."

"So, it's a whole ass experience then?"

"Har har. Don't make jokes when it keeps you up until the early hours of the morning."

"See, I don't know if I'll keep it," Spencer reminded her. "I might put the thing up for adoption. Call it a day. There are so many families out there trying to have babies and just can't. I could make someone's life…incredible."

"Could you really do that, Spence?" Veronica searched her eyes. "Raise this child for nine months, feel him or her grow and kick and hiccup and…just give him or her up?"

She swallowed with difficulty and lowered her eyes. "I don't think I can be a mom right now."

"All right, that's fair, but that "thing" is your baby, and they need you to decide what you want," she commented. "Your situation in three months will be completely different, so don't decide with haste. Decide with your heart and your gut and know we'll support whatever decision you come to."

"All right. Thank you, Mom." She twisted the fork on the plate and smiled. "I appreciate that."

"I love you, baby."

"I love you, too."