a/n: Hi there :) I've had a snippet of this story floating around, only partially written...until now! It's nothing earth-shattering, but with all of the garbage that Spoby has been dealt in 5B, I thought it might be nice to backtrack and finally get this posted. I suppose it's best labeled as post-5x12 (although I already did one of those!) since it is a continuation of Thanksgiving Day. Thanks for all the love/support/reviews! You guys are the greatest :)

She blinked several times in the new burst of humming fluorescent light. When her vision gradually adjusted to the fluctuating brightness, her eyes filled with immediate tears.

Surprisingly, she'd held off on this until now. She'd been brave, kept her head held high through it all. The hardest part, strange as it may be, had been the fingerprinting. The idea of staining ink seeping between the swirls of her skin…she'd felt branded with underserved shame. Even then, not a single tear had fallen. Spencer had decisively chosen anger over sorrow. How dare they? Didn't they know the enormity of their mistake? The charges would never stick, not when her family name carried more legal prowess than whatever hearsay these tin-badge detectives could even hope to bring to the table.

Her fury had boiled over the edges, spilling onto everyone and everything within reach – she'd raged against Alison, Holbrooke, -A, basically all of Rosewood, and perhaps more than anyone else…her parents. Why hadn't they bailed her out hours ago? It was a holiday. It should have been a day, if there ever was such a day in the Hastings clan, where family came before work. What could possibly be keeping them from her? They were supposed to have Thanksgiving dinner together that evening, and while Spencer had absolutely no concept of what time it was, there was still no excuse for this long of a delay. The hours had continued to slide by as she sat cold and alone…in a jail cell.

There was a mountainous load of animosity lodged in her chest. Her teeth were on edge, her jaw ached, and the pressure of her permanently clenched fists had turned her knuckles starkly white. Her wrists were sore, but she hardly sensed the residual rawness of those damned handcuffs. If anything, the pain had only empowered her anger.

But for all of the effort she'd funneled into this steely resentment, it only took one millisecond for Toby to undo the effect. His head was tilted backward against the wall, his eyes closed and his legs—cast included—stretched out in front of him. If it hadn't been for the steady tapping of his index finger against the armrest, she would have assumed that he'd fallen victim to sheer exhaustion. Smudged fatigue lined his eyes. A pair of crutches was propped at his elbow. Not even 12 hours ago, he'd been wearily signing release forms at the hospital's front desk. Now he'd also spent the majority of his Thanksgiving in a crusty-looking chair, property of the Rosewood Police Department.

And it was all because of her. She had put him through the wringer, again.

She took a hesitant step in his direction with her heart in her throat.

"Spencer," he breathed out in an encumbered rush, the shimmer of his reawakened turquoise gaze sweeping over her with buzzing urgency. His hands scrambled to find stability against the chair's metal frame as he precariously hoisted himself into an upright stance.

"Toby—"

Fear snared her vocal chords. She flew toward him, any ounce of remaining self-consciousness melting away instantaneously. "You need to be careful, you shouldn't be trying to stand on—"

His arms formed a snug cocoon around her as his breath shuddered against her neck. "Stop it, Spence," he rebuked in the gentlest possible manner, "no lectures, okay? Nothing is more important than this right now."

The strength of his hold tightened over her rattling bones, emphasizing his point as his words trickled through her unruly curls.

Millions of thoughts ricocheted through the bleak landscape of her brain. A litany of promises, apologies, questions, confessions…

And yet the only thing that actually broke through the surface was a feeble—"I missed you."

He didn't comment on the fact that they'd only spent a matter of hours apart since her arrest. He just murmured that sentiment right back into her own ear, the significance of his validation settling over her with a hurricane of emotion. "I missed you too."

She didn't want to sob. Not here, not in front of a bullpen full of cruel onlookers. It took more willpower than she could afford, but somehow she managed to compose herself with her face hidden away in his chest. "C-can we leave? Am I allowed to leave?"

"Yes, we can leave."

She could hear the small smile in his voice even if she couldn't see it. "And my parents…they're here, right? Are they talking to someone or...?"

The pause stretched on for longer than she could endure. Carefully raising her disorderly face from his embrace, she watched with unease as a range of feelings snarled through his drained expression.

"Toby? Tell me—"

The hysteric note in her voice was more than enough to unfreeze his tongue. "It's okay, Spencer. They're waiting for you outside because…because I told them that if they were going to keep arguing with each other like that, then they didn't need to be a part of the welcoming party. That's the last thing you need right now…"

The tortured twist of his handsome features painted a picture that was equally devastating and endearing. Her limbs felt heavy at the scene he'd briefly described, something all too familiar to her. At the same time, she experienced a dash of gratified disbelief at the notion of her shy Toby giving orders to her tenacious parents. She could be with this boy for a hundred years and she'd still never get over his capacity to surprise her.

"I'm sorry, it might not have been the right thing to do, but—"

"It was definitely the right thing to do. Thank you." She kept two firm hands wedged on either side of his ribcage as she planted an amorous kiss directly on his lips. "Let's get out of here."

They made slow progress outside of the precinct, her lungs catching with each wobbly step that Toby made. She was so distracted with monitoring his ability to maneuver on those damn crutches that she was practically blindsided with her father's sudden presence at her elbow.

"Spencer, your mother and I would like to have a family meeting with you. In private."

"Mr. Hastings—"

"Thank you for coming down, Toby," Peter interrupted decisively with a squared-jaw, "Spencer will call you later."

Her voice erupted without warning. "No! I…I need a minute, okay?"

Veronica stepped forward, and while her eyes held more sympathy than Peter's, a stern look crinkled over her brow. "This isn't something we can take lightly, Spencer. You were arrested on murder charges this morning. Do you understand how crucial the next 48 hours will be for your case?"

She was so taken aback by the condescending tone in her mom's voice that she couldn't even begin to formulate a reply. Heat rushed to her face as the fight seeped out of her.

"What do you want, Spence? Are you okay to go home?"

It was Toby – the guardian angel she'd never known she needed – who offered those questions in a tenor so low that she alone could hear it. Moisture pooled in her cinnamon eyes as she peered up at him. She floundered miserably, failing to arrange even two full syllables into a decipherable sentence, so instead she opted to shake her head subtly from one side to the other. She was not okay. She did not want to go home. All she wanted was to disappear into another dimension with him.

He straightened to his full height, both hands locked in a severe grip around the handles of his crutches. "I understand that you need some time to talk through this as a family, but nothing's going to change in the next few hours, especially with it being a holiday. I think it would be best for everyone involved to just…cool off for a little while. I'll make sure Spencer gets home safely this evening, alright?"

Peter's gaze landed on Toby's cast with a challenging glare, but his estranged wife jumped back into the conversation before he had a chance to make his objections known. "I think that sounds fair, Toby. Thank you for the suggestion."

Before another second could pass, Veronica drew Spencer into a quick hug. "I'll handle your father, honey. We'll talk more tonight, okay?"

"Okay," she whispered back, her eyes purposefully evading her father's reddened demeanor.

He made no move to hug her, grimacing as he issued an icy demand, "Don't make us regret this, Spencer. Your reputation in this town leaves no room for any additional errors."

They were gone a moment later, both of them making a hasty retreat to their respective vehicles without further discussion. Not a strained 'I love you,' not a mention of their seemingly-scrapped Thanksgiving plans...nothing. Despite their abridged skirmish on the sidewalk, Spencer was all but convinced that they were temporarily relieved to be free of her. She watched them drive away in a complete daze, forgetting everything but the sputter of dejection that ravished her soul.

To Toby, heartbreak flashed across her countenance like a neon sign. He'd never get tired of putting her back together, but he was as frustrated as hell with the people who routinely tore her apart. With as much delicacy as he could muster, he spoke quietly against the late autumn breeze. "Where do you want to go, Spencer? Anywhere you'd like, okay?"

"The loft," she muttered, her eyes still fixed upon the empty street, "you shouldn't be driving anyway, not on the pain meds—"

"I feel fine. If you want to get out of here, go up to the—"

"I mean it, Toby." She glanced up at him with wet eyes. Her hand found his forearm and gave it a soft squeeze. "It's really where I want to go anyway."

He didn't require any further persuasion. There was an underlying conviction in her voice, even if that conviction was tinted with infinite sadness. He nodded inadequately and began to amble toward The Brew, watching her out of the corner of his eye with cavernous apprehension. It wasn't until they'd nearly made it to the metal staircase that she broke the silence, abrupt panic blooming into her expression as she turned to him.

"Oh my God, Toby, you should not be staying here!"

Toby attempted to soothe her outburst with some even-tempered reassurance, but rapid protests were flying out of her without a foreseeable end.

"This place is not wheelchair accessible, and it's way too dangerous for you to be hobbling up and down these stairs every day in a cast. What if you fall? You could fall and hurt yourself and no one would know it! You're here by yourself most of the time and it isn't safe at all, not when...when..."

She was crying now, and she gave up on finishing the sentence, shrugging her shoulders in a clear declaration of defeat. Toby shuffled toward her, then nearly cursed himself for his own helplessness. He wanted to hold her more than anything in the world, but it was impossible. He didn't dare mention it to her. It would only serve as surefire evidence to back up her dismayed claims.

"C'mon, sweetheart. Look, it's okay...I'm okay." With a cautious effort, he gripped the handrail, stuffed both crutches beneath his other arm, and hopped onto the first step with his good leg.

Her breath left her as he swiftly bounded up another rung. "Toby, please be more careful." She instantly dismissed her guilt-stricken tears and found herself at his side, clutching his elbow in an ironclad death-grip. "Just take them slowly, alright? There's no need to be a showoff about it."

"That's an awfully ironic thing for you to say, don't ya think?"

Her vision was steadfastly trained on the next step, but she could hear the teasing grin in his response without having to look at him. "Keep the satirical commentary to yourself until we've made it through that door, Cavanaugh."

He did just that, only permitting the occasional grunt of exertion to pass through his lips as he ascended the remaining distance with modest determination. She knew it was a more arduous task than what he wanted to admit, but she also knew that it would be wrong for her to deny him the chance at proving himself. There was a certain stubbornness that lurked within his practically flawless personality; it might not rival the intensity of her own stubborn gene, but it was inside of him all the same.

"Almost there, Tobes," she readjusted her hold on his arm and began to fish for her copy of his key from the depths of her bag.

With one final strenuous leap, he hauled himself up to the landing platform and blew out an agitated puff of breath. "See…I'll be fine on my own."

She scoffed as her gaze trailed over him – his chest was reeling with labored panting, a sheen of perspiration had broken out across his forehead, and his entire body buckled against the concrete blocks that bordered the doorway. "Sorry Superman, but I'm less than convinced."

His brow was arching with impending dispute, but she didn't give him the chance. The door swung open under her command before she turned back to him, her palms balancing against his abdomen and her lips drifting across his flushed cheek. "I'm making you stay at my house as often as possible. And don't even bother with arguing, because the place is deserted most of the time anyway. My dad's out on his own and my mom does her best to avoid coming home…she wasn't happy with him there, but it seems she's just as unhappy without him."

Those vivid baby blues of his were clouded with unsearchable anguish, and it didn't take much guesswork for Spencer to realize that he was lamenting her situation more than his own. His warm mouth dipped to meet hers, and she sighed in measureless contentment as he kissed her with an incredible diligence that had her heart beating at a startling tempo.

"So you agree? You'll stay with me?" She murmured when his lips skimmed higher to graze her temple.

"Yes." Toby leaned into her as he relocated his crutches, allowing her support to keep him upright until he had his footing back. "But only when your mom is actually out…it was bad enough when your dad showed up here last time…"

Spencer snickered at the humiliating memory, drawing her boyfriend into the darkened loft and pulling the door closed behind him. "We just have to keep our clothes on when she's around. Problem solved."

"Problem not solved, Spence." He dragged himself to the futon, then promptly fell backwards against the cushions in a completely graceless fashion. With his foot propped up on the coffee table, he vaulted an incredulous look in her direction and gestured for her to join him. "How long do you really think you'll maintain the 'keep our clothes on' credo? I give it less than 24 hours before she walks in on us in a horribly compromising position."

She dropped down next to him and slipped beneath his arm, savoring the closeness of his body as she always did. "I don't like the way you're framing this…why am Ithe one who can't keep my clothes on? You think I have less restraint than you?!"

His laughter rang out deliciously, triggering an immense smile from the slim brunette at his side. "God, no. That wasn't what I meant at all...I'm absolutely powerless around you, and I can guarantee that this hunk of plaster won't do much to slow me down."

She giggled in response and threw one long leg across his lap, twisting sideways to kiss his neck. "Is that the medication talking, Tobes? You aren't usually this…candid."

"I don't know," he mumbled into her hair, scooping her more tightly against him, "but it's true either way. You're irresistible."

Spencer captured his mouth in a long exchange of affection and desperation. She felt the crescendo of the day's emotions crowding against her, but she had nothing left with which to fight it off. Her hands cradled his head against hers for another slow kiss, and then she fisted his shirt and gently pulled him across the couch with her. His toned arms went around her with immediate consideration, keeping her securely attached to him as they stretched their bodies alongside each other in the narrow space. He sensed her shifting mood with his usual perceptive ease, and his mouth pressed into her with all of the loving compassion of a man who would give anything for her sake. A glassy tear fled from the dark web of her lashes, speeding over the expanse of her cheek until it eventually fused into his skin. Toby crept back just far enough to brush his nose against hers in an unspoken reminder of the binding love that tethered their souls together. His arm hooked around her neck, his fingers massaging the curve of her spine to relieve the knots of stress that had gathered there. She docked her forehead against his throat and burrowed into him as his other arm flexed around her waist. Her nails scratched idly along the planes of his back and between his shoulder blades in the way she knew he liked. Minutes ticked by without interruption. She'd been a black hole of anger and frustration just a mere hour ago, but with the consistent thump of his pulse playing out in a melody all around her, Spencer could finally release the feeling that had wrecked her with a grueling force—her colossal sense of disappointment. With all of the seemingly unconquerable destruction and hopelessness that surrounded her, he was still enough. He was everything.

She angled her face slightly to the side and swept an unhurried kiss beneath his jawline.

"Is your foot okay, Toby? If this is too uncomfo—"

"Don't move a muscle, beautiful. This is perfect."

She was afraid. Afraid of returning to that appalling little jail cell, afraid of what awaited her at home, afraid of the doubtless tricks that Alison had up her sleeve...

But none of it could touch her here. As long as she was with him, she was preserved against all of the world's demons.