A/N: Thank you to everyone who reviewed chapter one. Y'all are the best. Seriously.

Chapter Two: So they dug your grave

"Aria…" Spencer catches up with her, grabbing her arm. "Have you seen Toby?"

"Uh yeah," Aria says distractedly, her fingers weaving through the many items packed into her small clutch. "Em said she saw him disappear into the hallway before."

"Okay," Spencer says, trying to hide her confusion. "Thanks."

It's turning out to be quite a prom. Between Hanna/Caleb misunderstandings and Emily/Paige drama, Spencer has barely had time to sneeze, let a lone pay attention to the boyfriend who surprised her by even wanting to come to this thing in the first place.

She feels a pang of guilt. She knows he's only doing it for her. She knows he'd much rather stay home and snuggle under a blanket together and watch a movie, but in the end he just wants to spend time with her. So he secretly got Emily to buy him two tickets and asked her to prom, even if that meant setting his first steps inside Rosewood High since he acquired his GED almost a year ago.

Spencer heads in the direction Aria pointed out, cursing her heels for slowing her down.

"Toby?" she calls, checking all the halls with the lights on first.

He's on nowhere to be seen, and she frets for a moment that he's unhappy with her for basically ignoring him since the moment they arrived. She quickly checks the darkened hallway to the left side of the building – so quickly that she nearly misses the lone figure standing almost completely at the other end.

But she would know him anytime, anywhere, in the dark or not.

"Toby?" she says his name again, once she's almost reached him.

He startles, and immediately forces a smile to his face when he sees her. She doesn't buy it. She'd seen the expression on his face before he turned it deliberately neutral.

"Hey," he offers, clearing his throat. "You want to head back or…?"

She stops him with a gentle hand against his chest. When he doesn't meet her eyes, she has confirmation that something isn't right.

"What's wrong?" she asks softly.

He shakes his head. "It's nothing." When he sees her face and he adds, "Nothing important."

She slips her hand in his, leaning against his arm and resting her chin on his shoulder. "Please tell me," she whispers.

He sighs, slumping back against the row of lockers glued to the wall. His eyes fixate on the lockers in front of him, and she waits. She knows by now that with Toby, it's often about being patient until he feels comfortable enough to spill.

"That used to be my locker," he says finally, nodding at the wall opposite them.

"I remember," Spencer answers, and she does. She remembers the word 'Killer' spray-painted across it, but most of all she remembers avoiding this entire hallway altogether when she was alone, terrified of bumping into him.

"I know it was a long time ago," he speaks quietly. "I know everything is different now, and I'm not that person anymore…" He takes a deep breath. "But when I stand here, it's hard to feel like anything but that freak that no one wanted to talk to."

She squeezes her eyes shut, as if that would stop the pain of his words from crashing into her. But it's no use. For a moment she's sure she's going to cry, but she manages to contain herself just in time. She has no right to cry.

"Hey…" She turns him slightly so he's facing her. "Back when that was your locker… did you every imagine you'd be making out with me in front of it?"

She gives him a split second to register what she was saying before gently guiding his mouth to hers. The kiss is tender – timid, almost. She runs her fingers through his hair, using that leverage to bring him closer instead of throwing herself at him full force. He comes to her willingly, locking his arms around her and pulling her into his frame.

How could she ever have been afraid of him? So afraid that she had loathed him, ridiculed him, ostracized him along with the rest of this petty little town? It isn't lost on her that at the last major dance she went to in this building, he was here with Emily and she had hated him with a passion for it.

"I'm sorry," she whispers against his mouth before kissing him again. "Oh God, Toby, I'm so sorry…"

"No," he whispers back. He pulls away slightly and holds her face in his hands, looking into her eyes earnestly. "You saved me. You have to know that."

She shook her head, whimpering slightly. "I–"

"You brought meaning back to my life," he interrupts without ever raising his voice.

She looks at him. "I wish I'd done it sooner," she blurts out, frustrated. "I wish there was something I could do now that makes it better."

He's silent for a moment; then smiles a little, to her great surprise. "There is."

"What?" she demands, prepared to take him to the nearest bathroom and make love to him if that was what he asked. Prepared to jump off a roof for him.

But he just pulls her closer. "Say it."

She's confused – until she isn't. It makes her smile, and she curls her hand around his neck and brings his ear to her lips. "Je t'aime, mon amour."

And, because once just doesn't seem like enough, she slowly kisses her way from his ear to his jaw to his mouth. "Je t'aime, je t'aime, je t'aime…"

As it turns out, they do end up in the nearest bathroom.

Going back to Rosewood always brings up mixed feelings on Spencer's part. It's nice to catch up with her family – because, incidentally, her relationship with them has gotten significantly easier since she moved out for college – and it's great to catch up with her friends when they're in town… but it's still Rosewood.

When her phone buzzes, she flinches noticeably. Toby's cool, comforting hand immediately covers hers, though he never takes his eyes off the road.

"It's just a text," he says evenly, and she feels some of the tension leave her body. "Probably your mom."

He's right, of course. She's a senior in college, but when in Rosewood, she still feels sixteen.

They stop at a supermarket on the way to her parents' house, in search of a bottle of wine to thank them for the dinner invitation. As soon as they step into the store, Spencer is met with another reason why she dislikes coming back.

She spots two guys who used to go to Rosewood High, a grade above her: Anthony Reyes and Gavin McFarland – both football players with more muscle than brains. Spencer keeps her head down and ushers Toby into a nearby isle, feeling only slightly guilty for wanting to avoid even a simple hello.

When a few minutes pass without confrontation, she lets her guard down a bit. She's pulling a bottle of water from the fridge when she hears a deep voice from over by the pay desk.

"I still don't get it, man. How did that freak Cavanaugh end up with one of the best looking girls in town?"

White-hot fury turns her entire body rigid, and her eyes reflexively seek out her boyfriend. She's relieved when she spots him still at the other end of the isle, comparing wine bottles, oblivious to the exchange she just witnessed. He pretends the word doesn't faze him anymore, but something about the way he shrugs it off always tugs at her heartstrings.

On impulse she steps forward, putting on her Hastings face and walking up with as much confidence as she can muster.

"Hey, boys," she drawls. "Anything I can help you with?"

They both jump, and she catches the worried glace they share – did she hear that? – before they recover quickly.

"Hey, Spence," Gavin greets smoothly. "Long time no see, huh? You look great."

"Oh, thank you, that's so nice," Spencer gushes. "Uh… Greg, was it?"

His easy smile falters. "Gavin."

"Right, right," she says airily. She spots Toby approaching them out of the corner of her eye, looking worried.

"Baby," she calls, beckoning him over. He comes after hesitating slightly, and she can tell he's extremely uncomfortable.

She throws herself at him before anyone can say anything, pushing her tongue shamelessly into his mouth and letting her hands roam over his entire upper body. She can sense his shock but feels his hands instinctively pull her closer anyway, and she smiles inwardly.

"Sorry," she apologizes breathlessly when they break apart. She flashes the two gaping men a bright smile. "He's just so… I just can't resist him, you know? I mean, just look at this…"

Without asking for permission, she pulls Toby's shirt up, practically to his nipples, revealing his perfectly defined six-pack. Her free hand strokes the toned, muscled area greedily, and her eyes stare at it like she's ready to jump him again.

"Anyway, where are my manners?" she says breezily, yanking his shirt back down. She turns to Toby with the most adoring gaze she can muster. "Baby, you remember these guys, don't you? They must've been in your grade at Rosewood High…"

Toby doesn't say anything; he just stares at her like she's lost her mind. So she turns to the two men, giving them a meaningful look and jerking her head subtly in her boyfriend's direction.

They don't have much of a choice really, under the circumstances. Gavin grudgingly holds out his hand and mumbles, "Hey, Toby. How's it going?"

Toby shakes his hand; then Anthony's, after the latter offers it to him. Spencer possessively reaches for his hand when it falls back at his side, like she can't stand the idea of someone else touching it. She rakes the fingers of her other hand up and down his arm.

"We should go," Gavin mutters, his eyes on their conjoined hands, and Spencer notes with satisfaction that his face has turned a hilarious shade of red.

"Okay," she says sweetly. "Well, it was nice seeing you."

Gavin nods with a grimace, then hurries away with Anthony on his heels. Spencer decides she's not done yet, and turning to Toby, she says loudly, "Did you get the condoms? Oh good! Strawberry, my favorite!"

She watches the two men nearly trip over their feet trying to escape the store and falls against Toby's shoulder, shaking with laughter. He chuckles too, giving her a knowing look that suggests he's figured out exactly what had been going on. He tickles her neck and then her side, causing her to squirm against him.

"You're going to hell, Spencer Hastings. Those guys have like half your IQ, they can't keep up with you."

"What?" she asks innocently. "Nothing I said was a lie. I really can't resist you."

He smiles and closes his arms around her, swaying them gently back and forth in the middle of the supermarket.

They work in the kitchen in silence. She doesn't know what to say. She remembers woefully how when she used to disappoint him, he would flee into his truck and she wouldn't hear from him for sometimes days on end. But it's the disappointment in himself that triggers this kind of brooding silence.

She knows he's not angry with her. If anything, he probably believes that she's the one who is angry with him. As if it's that simple, she thinks. Witness a big blowout between your husband and your child, and automatically know whose side to pick.

The two girls are parked in front of the TV, close together, unusually quiet. They, too, sense that something is very out of the ordinary. And Lawrence…

Spencer sighs, dropping her rag into the sink and coming to stand behind her husband. Her arms slowly slide around his waist and she presses a kiss into the cotton covering his shoulder.

"You okay?" She asks softly.

He shrugs moodily, and her heart constricts when she sees in his eyes just how upset he is.

"I don't know what came over me," he says, and she tries not to flinch at the self-loathing she hears in his tone. "I just… when I heard him use that word, I…"

Spencer's mouth sets into a straight line as she remembers. She isn't a fan either.

Lawrence – their only son, their perfect baby boy – had been telling his sister Cleo about a kid in his third grade class, who in all fairness did sound like he needed to be taught some manners. Lawrence went on about how this kid didn't have any friends because he made fun of everyone, and how everyone in his class kind of avoided him.

"He's a freak," Lawrence added, completely unprepared for the explosive reaction it would elicit from his father.

They have been together for seventeen years, but Spencer can count on one hand the number of times she's seen her husband this angry. Poor Lawrence never saw it coming. Their children aren't used to their father even raising his voice, let alone succumb to this kind of outburst. Spencer knows they view her as the tough cookie and Toby as the pushover, even if she privately feels neither of these caricatures really apply.

In any case, their son had been so rattled that he'd burst into tears, stared at Toby with incomprehension in his eyes and screamed, "I hate you!"

He stormed up the stairs, and Toby hasn't been able to look her in the eye since.

"It'll blow over," Spencer promises, rubbing one hand slowly back and forth across his stomach. "You know he didn't mean it."

Toby doesn't answer, doesn't even acknowledge what she said. He just lets out a long, slow breath. "I sounded just like my father," he mumbles, so quietly that she has to strain to hear him.

"Oh, honey…" Her arms tighten around him and she shakes her head, pressing another kiss into his shoulder. "You're nothing like your father. That's not something you need to worry about, ever."

"Well, I sounded just like him today," he insists, sounding defeated.

"So go talk to your son," Spencer tells him, nodding at the stairs. "Your dad never talked to you about anything. You can be different. You are different."

Toby turns his head to look at her. Then his eyes soften and he kisses her. He lingers, resting his forehead against hers and brushing a wisp of hair away from her face. Then he moves away; her arms drop from his waist and she watches him disappear up the stairs.

She follows him twenty minutes later. Her work in the kitchen is done, the girls are still watching their movie, and frankly, she's too much of a control freak to hold out any longer.

She hears them talking – not yelling – before she reaches the top of the stairs, and takes this as a good sign.

"I'm sorry I behaved that way," Toby is saying. "That wasn't okay, and I'm sorry for scaring you."

"I wasn't scared," comes Lawrence's brave retort.

"Well, I'm sorry for hurting your feelings," Toby saves him gracefully. "Because I'd never want to hurt your feelings, buddy."

Spencer sees Lawrence shrug. Father and son are sitting side by side on Lawrence's bed, and Spencer does her best to stay out of sight.

"So what's the most important lesson you've learned today?" Toby asks gently.

Lawrence's dark eyes meet his father's blues. "That 'freak' is not a nice thing to call anyone, no matter what they did?"

"That's good," Toby nods approvingly. "But there's something more important."

Lawrence ponders for a moment, and little by little Spencer sees her sweet little boy return, instead of the angry, confused child from an hour ago.

"That bullies are bullies because they're sad and we should feel sorry for them?"

"Another really good answer," Toby tells him, smiling. "But I'm looking for a different one."

When Lawrence comes up empty, Toby reaches out and runs his fingers through the boy's two-inch light brown hair.

"The most important thing," he says quietly, "is that no matter what, you will always be my son and I will always love you."

Spencer's heart gives an almost painful jolt – partly because she's moved by Toby's declaration, and partly because she wonders how many times her husband has longed to hear those words from his own father.

She watches Lawrence wrap his arms around Toby's torso, and Toby leans in to kiss their son's head. She hears the words she'd been hoping for.

"Love you too, Dad."