Author's Note: The Wicked Witch of the East Coast is back from the East. Ha ha. But no, I was in London, so it's east-ish from my home in New York. But I won't keep you waiting any longer. And just as a reminder, check out my one-shot collection!

Chapter Twenty-One

She stumbled out of her car. She wasn't exactly sure how she had gotten to his house again. She knew for certain, even in her inebriated state, that she shouldn't have been driving drunk. Thank goodness, nobody seemed to be on the road at midnight on a Thursday, especially taking the back routes to that house.

She barely walked—it was nearly a crawl—to the front door, including her hobble up the steps.

She righted herself using the doorknob, allowing herself to stand—albeit, a bit shakily—in front of the doorway. She hit the doorbell with the palm of her hand and waited.

"What are you doing here?" he asked as he opened the door.

She sniffled a bit, taking a deep breath. "I needed to see you again?" she said clearly, despite her clear intoxication.

He shook his head. "I…I don't understand."

"I needed to see you," she answered, more firmly and surely this time.

He opened his mouth to speak, but she just invited herself in.

She looked around at the walls, now unfamiliar to her. "I needed to see you," she repeated, more slurred this time. "I just…I…I couldn't…forget…about everything that we…gone through, I…I can't…"

"I don't—"

"Kiss me."

He stared at her, befuddled. This was so against all of her pleas these last few weeks. "What?"

Before she could explain anything, she grabbed him and placed her lips firmly on his.

"Spencer, I—"

"I miss the way they used to be," she mumbled unclearly.

What did you just do, you idiot?

Drink.

Here you are again, you dummy, drinking to forget. How could you do this to her?

Drink.

How could you do this to us? How could you? I trusted you! You were supposed to be different! You're no better than him!

He pressed his fingers to his temple. Clearly, the drink was just intensifying this pain. He pushed the bottle away, trying to steady his thoughts and his breathing.

Sure, he regretted it. Yes, he loved her. Yes, he made one huge mistake. Could he ever go back?

Probably not.

He had cheated. Fucking cheated. And he couldn't take it back, no matter how much he wanted to. He could pretend it never happened, he could confess to it and beg for forgiveness. Hell, he could go find her right now, spill his inebriated soul to her, and plead redemption from this.

But it wouldn't change anything. It wouldn't change the fact that he was a cheater. What was done was done; there was nothing he could do.

He was just as bad as Andrew.

The very thought made him reach for the bottle and take a swift drink of it. The liquid burned going down.

Good. It's going to hurt ten times worse every day you have to live with this, you ungrateful asshole.

He sighed in misery, throwing the bottle away. He heard the shatter as it reached the foot of the front steps.

"Why?"

Why, why, why would you do this to her again?

"Spencer, what are you doing here?" he asked once more, for about the fifth time in the last ten minutes.

"I don't know where I want to go," she answered vaguely, a different answer for the fifth time.

He sighed. "Why are you here? Don't you have a boyfriend? Why are you coming back to me?" he inquired. "I thought you loved him so much more than you ever did me," he added softly and bitterly.

"I don't know…I don't know," she muttered.

"So where do you want to be? With him or with me?"

She was looking away, her expression unreadable. "I want sex," she answered finally.

He looked at her, quite puzzled by this uncouth, somewhat profane declaration coming from the ever-so composed, proper Spencer Hastings' mouth.

"What?" he asked, still deeply puzzled, but almost amused.

"I haven't done it and I…I don't know," she confessed with a slur as she fell back onto the wall.

He sighed. "Spencer—"

She sighed dramatically. "I just don't know anything anymore. I used to feel like…I had all the answers, but now…I just don't know," she interrupted vaguely.

"Can I take you home?"

She looked at him with glazy eyes. "No, I'm fine. I brought my car here."

He looked at her, rather startled. "You drove here tonight?" he inquired, stunned.

She nodded. "It wasn't a far drive. I know this route by heart," she promised.

"That's really dangerous, Spencer!" he scolded.

She rolled her eyes. "It's not so bad. It's like a reflex," she insisted.

He grabbed his keys quickly before taking her hand. Tingles shot up his arm when he touched her. "I'm taking you home," he insisted.

She groaned, but couldn't really protest due to her extremely intoxicated state.

"Where are your keys?" he asked when they got outside.

He turned to face Spencer, who was crossing her arms stubbornly.

"Come on, Spence. Where are they?"

She shook her head stiffly.

"Spencer!"

She groaned once more before going through her purse and handing him the keys.

"Thank you."

He began to walk off. He almost reached the end of the driveway before he realized that she wasn't following him.

"Spencer?"

Her feet were placed solidly on the ground. It was obvious that she didn't want to move. Her heels stayed firmly on the ground, her arms still crossed across her chest.

"I'm not letting you stay out here, in the cold, in this state."

She pouted. Finally, he had to take her by the arm and lead her to the car.

He heard a loud noise in the apartment. At first, he thought he was hallucinating, but when he heard someone stumble, he shot up in bed.

"Is anyone there?"

It was as he said these words that he realized the agonizing headache he had contracted from the alcohol.

"Shit," mumbled someone outside.

He faintly recognized that voice, but the mind-splitting headache distracted him too much for him to figure out who it was.

He heard someone stumble into the bedroom, falling on the floor near the bed. They groaned. He quickly matched a face and name to the voice.

"Spencer?" he called out weakly. "Are you okay?" he questioned.

She groaned again before pulling herself up on the bed. She really didn't respond to him, as he assumed she was too drunk to.

He watched as she tried to pull up the covers to her chest, but failed. She hadn't even bothered to try and undress herself, much less put on her pajamas. She just mumbled something faintly before she turned around and faced him.

"I…I really screwed up tonight," she mumbled. She added something incomprehensible, but he didn't attempt at deciphering it. He just felt her get closer to him, almost unconsciously.

"I know. So did I," he replied unknowingly.

She woke up with a hammering in her head. She could barely recall the events from the previous night as a whole, but remembered faint, brief parts of it.

She remembered (vaguely) fighting with Toby at their dinner. She remembered stomping out of the bar. She sort of remembered drinking many shots of tequila and vodka the previous night. After that, things were a haze. She remembered (eek!) driving someplace, but couldn't recall where. She remembered stumbling back into bed, telling Toby something, but she couldn't quite remember.

Before she could continue self-loathing or interrogating herself mentally, she smelt a faint waft of freshly made, strong coffee coming from the kitchen.

As if her brain was on auto-pilot, Spencer got up and neared the smell. Of course, Toby was preparing it in the very way she had trained him to—extra strong.

"What happened last night?" I asked.

He sighed. "We got into a…rift of sorts and…you left the restaurant. I don't know what happened, but you got back later pretty drunk," he explained.

She nodded. "And you don't know anything else?"

He hesitated for a moment, as if he had something really heavy weighing on his mind. Truth was, he was debating with himself mentally. He wondered whether this would be the perfect opportunity to tell her the truth, or if he should just keep it to himself (once again).

Once more, he decided to be a chicken and not tell her.

You just keep making things worse and worse, don't you? What the hell is wrong with you?

"I have a class in like an hour, so I think that I should be getting ready now," Spencer said as she grabbed a bottle of pills and poured herself a glass of water.

Toby nodded, just hoping that she wouldn't decide to play a game of Twenty Questions. Thankfully, she didn't.

He just knew…he needed to get out of there.

Ugh, what are you doing, man? You're supposed to be her rock. You're supposed to be still and be her home. Now you just want to run. She was wrong all those months ago; she was never the runner—you were. You're going to let her down now, after everything she's been through.

No, and screw all of that. You fought so hard for her before. How are you just going to give that all up. You can't. She was worth fighting for, and she still is. She wants to be with you. You're just being an ass by throwing it all away. Good job, jerk.

He scolded himself relentlessly, the criticism coming all-too easily. He knew this kind of hatred and acidity in words all too well.

It almost scared him. The thing which was scarier was remembering Spencer's devastation the last time she was jilted by her lover.

What would happen the second time around?

Girlz-Rule: I think you all know my endgame! Come on, here!

AL3110: Yes, it was another person. Guess who? You should be able to guess! Okay, it's Chanel.

Addictedtospoby: Wow, you are really weird. I like you. Hi, my name is Kayson. But you knew that #SociallyAwkwardBuddies And that's so cool! You speak French? Is English or French your first language?

eveningshades1107: Oh, it's coming! Oh, it is coming! Just you wait and see! More wedding cuteness will be coming relatively soon, but for the next two chapters, it's kind of mostly Spencer and Toby drama. I think you'll all love Chapter 23, though :) It's okay. I know what it's like to flop an audition. Seussical auditions, 2013...those were the dark days...So what state do you live in? Just curious. Hi, I'm from New York and we share the same time-zone.

Caligirl28: Really? Do people really feel like they're never, ever happy? I feel like Spencer and Toby have been happy, but they're just going through some hard times. That doesn't automatically make them unhappy. I really don't feel as though Spencer is toying any more than Toby is. They're both just a bit confused and they don't know what to do with themselves. I didn't really view your review as "rude", per se, I just don't agree.

Spobyforever259: Now that I've written them in, I love Shane and Tiffany. So cute. And I can't wait for their baby. Maybe in a threequel ;) ? And I continue to adore Hanna. I love her so much. And fret not, Hanna won't be stuck with the responsibilities for much longer. Things are about to perk up for Spencer. And I'm still not sure whether to make it a girl or a boy. I might put a poll on my profile, but I don't know. Hmm...no, it wasn't Andrew. And hey, I left you hanging for a little less than two weeks. And which state/province do you live in? Just curious :)

Spoby Fourtris Treegan: Keep an open mind, and I assure you things will pipe up.

vondydora: Ah, please let's not play the Team Spencer/Team Toby game right now! There are no sides! There's only Team Spoby, or (if that really floats your boat), Team Tanel/Team Spandrew. And that's sufficient. What country do you live in (or continent, in case you don't want to tell me, but I'm not going to go and stalk you, so you can tell me what country)? I know when I was in London, I was just -1 hr from you.

LittleLiar0611: I tried my best, love.

Okay, well, I'd like at least 7 or 8 reviews before I update, but I don't know when that will be, since I have to write a play for school.

So, uh, Happy Thanksgiving for my friends in the US! If you're someone else...Happy fourth Thursday of November! -Kayson