PROMPT: And I saw that you were taking prompts and I have that want/need for a spoby fic just after Spencer gave birth to their first child, that goes just after the nurse puts the baby on her and Toby is there and they're just sharing this moment.

(Disclaimer: I know very little about child birth, I'm embarrassed to say. So I hope I got the necessary information correct!)

My Darling Angel

Sixty-two minutes. That's how long it had been since Spencer's doctor had wheeled her out of the semi-private room and into the O.R. for an emergency Cesarean. And try as he might, he had not yet been able to eradicate the image of her blanched, exhausted face from his mind. The entire exchange was stuck on repeat.

"Heart rate's dropping – fast," the nurse had declared in a thinly-masked panic, dark chocolate eyes roving the obstetrician's for his expert opinion.

There had been very little hesitation. "Let's move."

Before Toby could even comprehend the meaning of their words, Spencer's hand had begun to fall slack in his own. Her eyes were fluttering shut, as if she had been too weakened to hold them open. His heart had instantaneously taken a nosedive into his stomach.

"What? What's happening?" he demanded, his voice coming out sounding far frailer than he had intended. No sooner than he had posed the precarious question than he was being gently maneuvered away from her bedside to make room for the nurses to kick the locking mechanisms up on its wheels.

Nobody had answered. He had made his way to follow suit, only to have Dr. Washburn place a halting hand on his shoulder.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Cavanaugh," he had said quickly, retreating even as he spoke. "I'm going to need you to go wait with the others."

And just like that, he had vanished, leaving Toby to choke quietly on the lump that had burgeoned in his esophagus.

He wasn't sure how long he had stood there in stupefied horror. He knew very little about childbirth, but the facts were hard to miss. He could lock enough pieces together to understand that his wife, the woman he had risked his life for on countless occasions – and his firstborn child – were in danger.

And for once, this was not the sort of fate he could rescue her from. He was utterly powerless to prevent it.

At the same time, it seemed as though the information could not completely process. Like a computer that had been frozen in a loading screen for far too long. Perhaps it was the fact that he was in shock. Or maybe the notion that if he allowed himself to understand the full, unbridled gravity of the situation, he would collapse under the anguish of its implications. Maybe a bit of both.

After some indiscernible amount of time he had wandered back to the waiting room, distantly aware of the eyes of his friends plastered desperately upon him. Hanna had immediately opened her mouth, to inquire about his forlorn expression no doubt, before Aria had warningly squeezed her hand.

He could feel Emily's eyes boring into his soul, permeating the weak shield he had attempted to create. Out of everyone in the room, she knew him best. She could damn near read his thoughts. He felt suddenly vulnerable under her scrutinizing stare, as if she were peeling away at layers of skin.

Jason and Caleb had exchanged a look. He didn't know if it was 'father's intuition,' but they clearly understood the situation with instantaneous disdain.

He hadn't said a word. And nobody had prodded him for the information. Instead he collapsed tiredly into a chair on the far side of the room, his gaze trained mindlessly on the nearest wall, willing himself to hold back the tears.

And there he had sat. For – he briefly glanced at his watch – sixty-four minutes, now.

He could hear the others talking in a quiet hush behind him. It was only after the nurse's aid had approached the group in the waiting room to alert them that Spencer was still in surgery that the others had any clue of what was happening. Jason had spent a good deal of time on the phone with Peter afterward, updating him on the situation with an unfamiliar rasp in his voice. Spencer's parents were at a conference out of state, as usual, and unable to attend the momentous occasion.

Not that Toby particularly wanted them there, anyway. Especially in light of the new developments. Veronica would have been throwing a fit, threatening to sue any hospital employee that walked by. That's how the couple reacted to hardship, after all. With cold, hard threats.

It wasn't long after that Toby heard the sound of hesitant, shuffling footsteps approaching him from behind. When he caught a whiff of freshly mown grass and potent mulch, he knew precisely who it was. Jason was, after all, one of the most renowned landscapers in Rosewood these days.

He said nothing at first. Merely lowered himself into the seat beside Toby, the gaze of his sea-green eyes following Toby's own visual trajectory. Rather silly, really. Now there were two grown men uselessly studying the drywall instead of one.

"What's taking so long?" Toby muttered quietly. He hadn't even realized he was speaking until the words were already out of his mouth.

Jason inhaled deeply, pausing for a moment. "It feels longer than it is," he said softly. "I remember when the doctors realized Blake was breached. Aria was sobbing through the whole C-section, squeezing my hand so hard I thought she'd break all my fingers. But I couldn't let her know that I was scared, too. I didn't want to make things worse." He turned to face him, and Toby could see him assessing his features out of his peripheral vision. "Minutes turn into hours in this kind of situation."

"At least you got to be there for the surgery," Toby breathed. "At least if I was in there, I'd know what's going on."

There was a beat before Jason spoke again. And when he did, he sputtered uncertainly over his words. "I-I don't know that it would be any better."

He was right, of course, to a certain extent. It would probably just perpetuate his anxiety. And the more panicked he became, the more stress the doctors would be under. And who knows what impact that would have on their concentration. All he would succeed in accomplishing was exuding negative energy throughout the room.

Neither of them spoke for a few moments. The tiny imperfections in the white paint on the walls had become suddenly fascinating once more. Toby glanced down at his watch again. Sixty-nine minutes.

Jason broke the silence for a second time. "Do you remember when Spencer was in Radley?"

There was a rogue, irritated balloon that instinctively began to inflate in his chest at the inquiry. For the first time, he brought his eyes to meet Jason's to ensure he properly conveyed his disapproval of the conversation topic.

"Is this really a good time, Jas?" he asked wearily.

Jason seemed unperturbed by his sudden annoyance. "We all thought she was bottoming out," he continued, as if not interrupted. "It was the first time any of us had really seen a chink in her armor. She was always so strong. So confident. None of us ever could have guessed."

Toby gulped involuntarily, finding that the lump in his throat had not yet dislodged itself. He waited for Jason to finish.

"But she handled it," Jason said. "She saw a glimpse of what it looked like to be at rock bottom, and she clawed her way back out of the hole."

The memory was unfailingly vivid in Toby's mind. He had never quite forgiven himself for contributing to her breakdown. But Jason was right – even in her darkest hour, her Hastings fire had triumphed. Even when she was grasping at straws, Spencer had a knack for taking them and building a damn life raft. She was stronger than anyone he knew. She always had been.

Jason offered a sad smile as he watched the wheels turning in Toby's head. He silently reached out to clap a hand supportively on Toby's knee.

"If anyone can get through this, it's her."

The words were simple, but they echoed around the caverns of Toby's mind on repeat. And in that brief moment, a portion of the weight seemed to be lifted from his shoulders.

"Mr. Cavanaugh?"

He was on his feet in an instant, Jason following suit. Dr. Washburn stood behind the line of chairs, rubbing the sanitizer in on his hands.

Toby took the split-second of silence to interpret the doctor's features. He seemed calm enough. Perhaps even pleased? There did not appear to be any signs of distress or guilt on his face. But maybe he was the type that didn't let his work get to him. Maybe he had just been in the field for so many years that he was unfazed by bad news.

Maybe –

"Spencer's resting and Baby Girl Cavanaugh is being cleaned up. Would you like to come back?"

Jason grabbed onto his elbow only a fraction of a second before Toby's knees buckled, as if anticipating the weakness that would travel through his appendages. It was though he had suddenly been unceremoniously launched from a rigid stupor, and every part of his body took on the likeness of gelatin. Thanks to Jason's assistance, however, he gained control back quickly.

"Thank you," he breathed, hastily falling into line behind the physician. He chanced a glance at Jason, who was offering a wide grin. He was suddenly grateful for the elder's support. He and Spencer's half-brother had never been close, per se, but Jason always seemed to know exactly what to say and when to say it. And for that, Toby had always appreciated his company.

The moment the door to the hospital room was open, Toby darted to his wife's bedside. She looked tired and some version of semi-conscious, but the attractive pink pigments had returned to their proper locations atop the mounds of her cheekbones. He wrapped her hand in his own, lowering his face to the bridge of her hairline and pressing his lips there for much longer than he ordinarily would.

"You can't scare me like that, Spence," he murmured softly, his nose still buried in her dark brown locks, quietly inhaling her scent and committing it to memory.

She did not reply. Instead she curled one arm upward to gently scratch at the nape of his neck, leaning her head closer to his chest. He could tell from her shallow breathing that she had probably scared herself, just as much as him.

They stayed like this for a few minutes, silently appreciating the other's presence, until the door opened beside them. A nurse was approaching with a tiny pink bundle wrapped in her arms, a congratulatory smile decorating her features.

"Mr. and Mrs. Cavanaugh, meet your new baby girl."

Spencer immediately began hoisting herself into a more proper sitting position, succeeding only after Toby stabilized her enough to help. The nurse was twisting her arms to transfer the baby into Spencer's hold, and after a moment Toby got a full look at her face.

His heart skipped a beat and he felt an unfamiliar stinging sensation in the corners of his eyes. Never before had he thought it was possible to fall in love with something so quickly.

"I'll give you a few minutes," the nurse announced gently, retreating from the room. Toby did not even notice her leaving. He was utterly mesmerized by the tiny little human in front of him.

"Hi there, sweetie," Spencer eked out, a joyous sob clearly punctuating her words. Toby leaned over her frame, quietly nuzzling his face against the side of hers to gather his bearings. If she was going to cry, it was all but inevitable for him, too. One of his hands had idly reached out to stroke his daughter's plump, pink face. Her skin was soft and flawless beneath the calloused ridges of his fingers, and he thought for a moment that he must have been touching the blanket instead by accident.

He wanted to say something, but every possible word was stuck in his throat. It was like looking upon the purest, most exquisite thing in all of God's creation. No words could even express the wonder and amazement he felt. And even if something did feel appropriate, his voice box was rendered entirely useless for the moment, pinned against the raw clump of emotion that had settled at the base of his throat.

"What should we name her?" Spencer asked at last, leaning her head to press her cheek more firmly to his. He could feel the hot presence of tears on her face.

He hesitated. Truthfully, in his opinion, there wasn't a name in the world that could match the perfection of the tiny miracle in his wife's arms.

But luckily, Spencer was already speaking once more.

"How about Marion?" she murmured.

Toby inhaled sharply, and suddenly the gigantic tidal wave of emotion that had been hanging over his head all morning was engulfing him whole. His eyes were now swimming behind a wall of tears, his heart aching with every beat. He hadn't the faintest idea two hours ago just how much emotion he could endure all at once. He wasn't even entirely sure he was successfully enduring it now. He felt a surprising wave of exhaustion befall him, but somehow, simultaneously, a magnificent spark of energy and liveliness. It was intoxicating.

He wanted to thank her. Wanted to tell her just how much this simple gesture meant to him. But any and all pearls of wisdom were escaping him, lost in the catacombs of his racing mind.

So he simply pressed his lips to the side of her head in a firm but gentle kiss, concentrating on controlling his increasingly labored breaths.

"I love you," he whispered against her temple, choking on his own words.

He could feel the muscles tighten in the side of her face as she smiled tearfully at his proclamation. "I love you, too."