A/N:Scenes of a graphic nature enclosed. You've been warned!

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

The moment they had stepped through the door, a sense of ominous foreboding settled the pit of Spencer's stomach. The way that he had looked at her – the way he had tried to reach for her hand once more. He had suggested watching a movie, which Spencer had quickly declined. She did not want to give him the wrong idea, and was beginning to realize that perhaps she already had.

The discomfort was growing with very little recourse, like an inoperable tumor. She had never been in a situation like this before, and was fighting to remain calm and confident in its wake. She didn't like having a strange boy in her apartment. And she certainly didn't like the way he was undressing her with his eyes.

It had turned out that he did not want coffee as badly as he had made it sound: instead, he was drinking a glass of the wine that Hanna had stashed in the cabinet. He sat at the kitchen table, looking through the photo albums that he had pilfered none-too-politely from Spencer's room.

He was overstaying his welcome. Spencer had struggled to drop hint after hint, including lots of gratuitous yawning and stretching. She was becoming quickly anxious, almost hoping for Hanna to walk through the door and make a scene so that he'd leave. She had even gone so far as to change into her lounging clothes to provide additional implication about the time. She was trying her damnedest to avoid being blunt, but as she grew increasingly frustrated, she found this harder to avoid.

She hated to be rude, but was very particular when it came to the sanctity of her personal space. She could not help but feel incredibly on edge about allowing him to stay a moment longer. She had felt violated like this before – like with 'A' – And over the years, she had become quite familiar with the red flags that were associated with this feeling.

As he continued to drink, the manners that Spencer had so dearly appreciated earlier seemed to be rubbing off quickly. His interaction with her was growing more flirtatious, and his language more crass. She tried to convince herself that the alcohol was a key player in this, but was developing the distinct feeling that Cody was a very talented showman.

"This picture is fucking hot," he kept musing as he browsed page by page. He had quickly downed three glasses of wine and was working on a fourth, beginning to look significantly glazy-eyed.

"Thanks," she murmured uncomfortably.

"I'll bet all the high school guys were all over you," Cody continued, slurring slightly as he spoke. He took another swig from his wine glass and grinned mischievously.

"Not so much the high school guys as the college ones," Spencer muttered, recalling the inconvenient tendency of attracting all of Melissa's boyfriends.

"What was that?" he asked.

"Nothing," she said quickly. "Listen…Jeff…it's almost one o'clock…"

"Is it really?" he demanded, glancing at his wristwatch. "Wow, I can't believe it."

"Yeah," Spencer added hastily, hoping to get somewhere. "And, well, I'm super tired…"

He stared at her for a few gruelingly uncomfortable moments before closing the photo album and downing the remainder of his glass. He grinned flirtatiously.

"Well, then maybe we should head to bed."

"Yeah, I think that would – wait, we?"

"Oh, c'mon, Spencer," he said with a lazy wave of his hand, clumsily standing from his sitting position. "It's polite to invite a man to your room after a nice date."

"Oh, Jesus," Spencer muttered irritably. She could feel her blood beginning to boil in incredulity, her pseudo-feminist views crying in outrage. She was also feeling immensely displeased to find that Hanna and Holmes may have been right in their theories about Cody's motives being warped. She was rapidly realizing that agreeing to hang out with him had been a mistake, for he was beginning to elicit an obscene amount of anxiety within her. "You know what, Jeff? If that's what tonight was all about – then I'm sorry, but my intentions must have gotten lost in translation." She breathed deeply. "I have no interest in dating anyone right now. I thought I made that perfectly clear."

"That's convenient," he mused. "I'm not interested in dating anyone, either."

"But you just – " Realization dawned upon Spencer rudely, like a hailstorm. It was never about bonding, or forming a friendship, or even looking for a relationship on the horizon. "You just wanted to sleep with me," she deduced aloud, mortified.

"You wanted to sleep with me, too," Cody insisted, beginning the close the distance between them with his tipsy saunter. "You've been dropping hints since we met."

"You're delusional," Spencer spat through gritted teeth, edging gradually backwards as he continued to approach her. "The most I ever did was try to be your friend. For Toby."

"Well now that you mention it," Cody continued, "this would be the perfect way to stick it to his pussy ass for breaking your heart."

A million thoughts were racing through Spencer's head. She struggled to grasp at just one, just enough to calm the chaos in her brain. "All those things you told me at the party weren't true," she murmured at last.

"Of course not," Cody scoffed. "Not my fault you believed them."

"All of those things about the girls – about Afghanistan…" Spencer was muttering, more to herself than to him.

"Well – Afghanistan may have some truth to it," Cody amended. "He nailed that coffin all on his own."

He had successfully backed Spencer into the arm of the couch. Her knees nearly buckled as she made contact with it, quickly appraising her surroundings for an out.

"I think you need to leave," Spencer declared, though a tremor had risen in her voice. She fought to control it so as to stand her ground. "You've hit on me, you've lied to me, and you've insulted Toby. And I'm not going to listen to it anymore."

"What do you care about Cavanaugh?" Cody demanded, his body nearly flush with hers. She could smell the alcohol on his breath. "He doesn't deserve someone like you."

"Toby is a great man," Spencer defended fervently. "It's a wonder he even puts up with you."

Cody's jaw squared angrily. "What is it about Toby fucking Cavanaugh?" he shouted. "What makes him so fucking fantastic?"

"He treats people with respect!" Spencer yelled back, her heart racing at a million miles a minute at the position Cody had forced her into. "He's more of a man than you could ever hope to be."

In that moment, something very distinctively snapped. Before Spencer could even process what was happening, Cody had already lifted her clear off her feet and thrown her onto the couch. He was greedily climbing on top of her, trapping her legs beneath his knees and taking a hold of her wrists with one hand. "I'm twice the man that Cavanaugh is!" he bellowed.

Spencer wriggled beneath him, struggling to get free. "Let go of me! Get off!"

"Not until I get what I came for," Cody snarled. "I'll be damned if Cavanaugh gets one more thing that belongs to me."

"I was his first!" Spencer cried, ignoring the possessive terminology that often made her twitch with disdain. "And if you think I belong to you, you're a fucking psychopath!"

She could feel her heart pumping rapidly in her stomach. She thought about crying out for help, but had the sinking feeling that he would only become more aggressive at that response. She continued trying to flail beneath him, but to no avail – he was strong.

He seemed to be ignoring her now as he trailed his nose from her jawbone to her neck. His breath was stale and unpleasant, his touch numbingly painful. Instinctively, Spencer turned and latched her teeth onto the skin of his temple – hard.

He cried out in pain, his free hand flying to his face. As he brought it away, he saw blood trickling from his fingers. "You fucking bitch."

As if to solidify this small victory, Spencer spat directly in his face. His grip on her tightened as he stared her down.

"C'mon, baby," he sneered mockingly. "Just once – just once let me show you how much of a man I can be." With his free hand, he was beginning to unbutton his jeans. Spencer's blood froze within her veins as she realized the gravity of what was about to happen. She forced herself to stay strong.

"If it comes anywhere near me," she began slowly, "I will bite it off."

"Feisty," he chuckled darkly, lowering his face to hers once more. He was now pushing up on her t-shirt, fighting to get it off. She squirmed desperately, screaming in protest, but had little success in fighting off this advance. Soon the shirt was slung around her wrists, which lay trapped against the couch above her head.

"You are so beautiful I can barely stand it," he muttered as he began to kiss her neck once more. If not for his possessive outburst, she could have easily mistaken him for a man that truly worshipped her to the death. And perhaps in some twisted way that's what it was – sick, possessive infatuation. She could feel the hot tears free-flowing now, beginning to erode at what little resistance she had left.

"I promise you'll enjoy it," he was saying, though his voice seemed distant, like a sound carried by the wind. She fought back the lump in her throat, vowing silently not to break down. She couldn't. She couldn't give him the satisfaction.

Until a couple of weeks ago, she had been a virgin. She had only shared herself intimately with Toby, and him alone. She suddenly recalled the loving, affectionate way in which he gazed down upon her, slowly and gently rocking his body against hers. She had known then that the care he took in making love to her was the way it was supposed to be. It had been like something out of a film or a romance novel. It had been kind, and cautious, and full of passionate connection.

She had always heard people talking about sex as if it was such a dirty, carnal thing. With Toby, it had been anything but that. It had been a fantasy that found its way into the real world, captivating her, heart and soul. Tying her to him for eternity. It was breathtaking. It wasn't like this…it wasn't the primal way in which Cody was grabbing at her breasts or pawing at her waistline. With Toby, it was love. It was a beautiful vow of trust and loyalty. And in one single night, at one stupid party, with one stupid asshole – she had allowed herself to doubt that implicit promise.

And here she was, lying beneath this drunken bastard, being regarded as a mere piece of ass. Toby didn't treat her like that. He had never looked at her as a sexual conquest. He had been patient. He had waited. And their night of passion had been so worth that wait.

And she would be damned if she let her second experience shame what they had created that night.

Cody had taken her sudden stillness for blind surrender. He had released her wrists and removed her shirt entirely, and was now drunkenly fumbling with the drawstring of her sweat pants.

Her breath hitched in her lungs. It was now or never.

With all of the strength she could muster, she thrust her kneecap upwards beneath his bare testicles.

"Fuck!" he cried out. Had it not been for the severity of the situation, Spencer may have chuckled at the crack of falsetto in his voice. Instead, she launched herself from the couch, dismounting from the back of it, and lunged towards the door. It occurred distantly to her that she was topless – she couldn't find the effort to care. She was freely sobbing now, desperate to make her escape.

She flung the door open and barged into the hallway, frantically yelling. She knew that her speech was incomprehensible, but she needed someone – anyone – to come to her aid.

She continued to stumble dizzily down the hallway, caught almost immediately by the strong arms she had grown to recognize anywhere by their mere touch. She did not need to wipe the tears away that blurred her vision. She knew it was him.

She collapsed into him a heap of hysterics, her knees giving out from under her. He caught her easily, grabbing safely onto her elbows. He pulled her into him, kissing her all over her face and hurriedly wiping tears away. He was desperately pulling his jacket off with one hand.

"Where is he?" he asked dangerously. Spencer chanced a glance up at him, seeing now that he bore similar bruises to Cody himself. It had been foolish to think that the altercation had been one-sided, as she had assumed earlier…

She couldn't answer. The sobs that wracked her body were making it increasingly difficult to breathe.

"Spencer, baby," Toby urged, wrapping the coat around her half-naked figure. "You need to tell me where he is."

"In-inside," she stuttered, with minimal coherence. Toby understood.

"Stay here," he commanded. Something about the tone in his voice made her grab onto his wrist with desperation.

"Spencer, stay here," he said more sternly. She could barely stand on her own, swaying precariously in his arms as he began to lower her into a sitting position on the floor.

"Spencer!"

She pushed the tears away from her eyelashes, instantly interpreting the mass of blond hair that engulfed her in a protective embrace.

"What the fuck happened?" she could hear Holmes demand distantly. It was as if the metaphorical wind had picked up speed once more and was carrying their voices far away.

"Why isn't she wearing a shirt?" Hanna cried, cradling Spencer into the crook of her neck.

"I'm going to find out," Toby growled. "And then, I'm going to kill him."

"I'm coming with you," Holmes declared.

As she heard their footsteps departing, she reached out desperately to grasp at Hanna's hand.

"I think – I'm – going to faint," she whispered. The rapidity of her breathing was causing her vision to lose focus, and her surroundings to become a blur.

"You're okay, honey, you're okay," Hanna was chanting. Spencer could hear the lump in her throat threatening to dislodge.

Two things became glaringly obvious in her last moments of consciousness.

One: Toby Cavanaugh challenged all beliefs she had ever held about men coming to the aid of a damsel in distress. He had saved her in more ways than one, and would never let her fall.

Two: Hanna Marin was her best friend in the entire world.

The hallway went black.

TO BE CONTINUED