AN: This is an idea I came up with this last New Year's when I made an aesthetic on my Tumblr side-blog similar to the storyline here. A few weeks after that, I read a line in a novel that sparked the entire plot. I've never written a multi-chapter PLL fanfic before so bear with me, please. If you're confused in the first chapter, that's probably good as Spencer is confused at the moment. But it'll become clearer as the chapters go on. I've already got three written but I'm not sure how many this story could contain. Could be 10, could be 30. (Probably not gonna be 30 though, lmao). But please, read and review. It would mean so much to me. Thank you, babes.

Disclaimer: I am not affiliated with PLL.

The pain in her head that left her with a feeling akin to what it must be like to be run over with a truck is what woke her up. That and the hand running through her hair. It was a nice soothing gesture, it made her scalp sing, it contrasted with the buzzing anxiety bubbling inside her, even while unconscious.

Or sedated, Spencer realized as she came to. Her eyelids felt heavy, like the muscles in them had weakened since she went to sleep the night before.

She wondered, absentmindedly, as she forced her indolent eyes open, who was stroking her hair and why. Was she sick? She couldn't imagine her mom though, nursing her back to health. It clearly wasn't Caleb as he had left the barn a week and a half ago, in light of his treacherous kiss and subsequent reconciliation with Hanna. She hadn't spoken to him since the night they found Hanna. She hadn't spoken to Hanna since her halfheartedly guilty confession. A lot had been broken in the last few weeks, in some ways seemingly irreparable.

She had been told about the confession of love and the kiss that followed, while visiting Hanna in the hospital, thirteen hours after her rescue from -A. Spencer had left almost immediately after, texted Caleb to get his stuff before nightfall and she'd fallen asleep that night in tears. Every morning from then on she woke up, contemplating where she went wrong. Going over and over her part in this gigantic mess, like rereading a bad critique until her brain bled. She analyzed where she should have paid more attention to Hanna's lingering feelings or looked closer at her boyfriend for obvious signs he wasn't over her best friend. Where she trusted too fully or brushed off something too easily. She looked for her faults in the situation obsessively. It became her routine for waking up and falling asleep each night.

But something felt different now. As she attempted to pry her eyes open she felt her senses coming back to her slowly. She felt the papery hospital gown covering her body, the itchy sheets keeping her warm, the cardboard pillow behind her head. She felt wires on her and needles in her.

She realized with sudden clarity as the fog cleared her brain, she was in the hospital. She felt the hand move from her hair to slowly grasping her palm. She knew then all along what her brain had been too stubborn to accept. Toby's hand was unmistakable in hers. She'd placed her hand inside his for comfort too many times to not recognize the feeling. It was distinctly different than holding Caleb's hand. Toby's were rougher in texture and yet softer in touch. They were quite a bit larger and they were constantly warm. They felt like a comforting blanket, covering her when she shivered.

"Toby," she whispered, her voice sandpaper rubbing against satin.

He squeezed her hand tightly before placing a kiss on the back of it.

"I'm here, baby."

His voice alone made her forget she was in a hospital for currently unknown reasons, feeling like she was ten feet under water. "Toby," she whispered again.

"Shhh," but the voice wasn't Toby's hushing her. It was her mother's. "Spencer, honey, relax."

She couldn't tell them that she was relaxed. She was too relaxed. Her entire body felt like it was floating in space. Her brain was screaming and sleeping all at once, leaving her with no way to communicate with anyone. She took a yoga fire breath, the only thing it seemed she still could control.

"Good girl," Veronica encouraged next to her. "Take another deep breath, sweetie."

Had she been coherent, Spencer would have been looking at the woman like she had grown three heads. Never in as far as she could remember back had either of her parents ever coddled her. They treated her sister like she was made of glass at times but never had they given Spencer the same treatment. Spencer convinced herself long ago she'd never wanted it anyway.

Veronica was speaking again but it was distant, hushed and somewhere in her brain Spencer concluded someone else was in the room. Toby's hand stroked her hair again, silently. She wanted to ask why he was here, why she was here but the fog in her brain was still too heavy for her to speak. She wondered languidly if this is how Emily used to feel when she was underwater during a swim meet.

She felt pressure in her arm then and Toby's hand moving to her face, stroking it with the tenderness of an angel. Another pinch and the haze in her brain grew stronger instead of weaker and she felt herself slipping into blackness.

The next time she tried to open her eyes, it was much easier. They opened right away without the fight and her limbs moved at her demand, albeit weakly. The fog felt all but gone from her brain and she could finally see her surroundings. She was in a hospital bed, by a giant window that gave a view that to anyone else would be beautiful.

To her, it was the desolate town where she grew up and was the source of every nightmare she'd ever had. On one side of her bed was her mother, her head lolled back in the chair, sound asleep, her makeup days old and smeared messily across her face. Spencer spotted the senator's heels kicked neatly into the corner of the room, with her purse standing perfectly still next to them, almost like a portrait taken out of Forbes Women.

On the other side laid her ex-boyfriend, his head face down into the side of her hospital bed, his hands both laid sleepily across her thighs. She could feel him snoring softly, a small detail about him that over time she'd completely forgotten.

The sight gave her a warm, honey sweet feeling in her stomach and made her tragically nostalgic for times long past. A time when everything in her life was complete chaos, much like now, and yet, when she looked into blue eyes the color of the ocean, everything felt okay. She couldn't help herself, in her still slightly drug induced state, from reaching over and gently petting the back of Toby's head, feeling his sandy brown locks between her fingers again. They were messier than usual as he clearly hadn't trimmed or gelled his hair lately. She ran her fingers through it hungrily, like an alcoholic tasting vodka for the first time in years.

"Spence," Toby murmured groggily as he awoke from her ministrations.

"Sorry," she rasped, shocked by how awful her voice sounded. "I didn't mean to wake-"

Before she could choke out her sentence, Toby was sitting up straighter, his eyes brightening by the second and his hand touched her face greedily. "You're awake!" He exclaimed, a smile breaking out across his face, one that melted her whole heart into a puddle.

"Yeah," she smiled back, getting lost in his presence. His words took a minute to register but when they did, she remembered her earlier confusion. "Toby?" She started, the hoarse quality to her voice growing thicker the more she spoke. "Toby," she tried again.

He didn't wait for her to finish her sentence, standing up and reaching over her body to the hospital water bottle sitting by Veronica's sleeping form. "This should help," he said quietly, sitting on the edge of the bed and bringing the plastic straw to her lips. She sucked hungrily and was amazed at how quickly the water soothed her parched throat.

"Toby, why am I here?" She blurted out the second she was done drinking.

His eyes dimmed and she knew at once this was going to be bad. She braced herself for a new tragedy, grasping the hospital covers with her weak hands.

But he shook his head and forced a smile. "All that matters is you're alright," He said, brushing her bangs back soothingly. "Don't stress out about it, everything's okay."

"Why are you placating me?" She snapped. "I'm not an invalid, Toby."

His expression fell, this time harder, like a kicked puppy and instantly Spencer felt awful. "I'm sorry," She apologized quickly, grabbing his hand in both of her's. "I'm just-"

"I'm know," He assured, smoothing out his expression. "It's disorientating."

He used his free hand to cup her cheek and she leaned into it, thirsty for more. She wanted to bask in his presence, that whatever had led to him being there, with her, touching her in ways he'd hadn't touched her in three years. She wanted to kiss him, and feel his 5 o' clock shadow on her lips. She wanted to bite his neck and wrap her legs around his waist and curl up like a ribbon in his arms.

But that wasn't Spencer Hastings and that would never be Spencer Hastings. She asked the questions no one wanted the answers to, not even her. "Why are you here?"

She couldn't think of a better way to phrase her inquiry, in her current state and she half expected to have hurt his feelings. But he didn't even blink at her words. "Because you're here," He said simply, the truth in his words undeniable in his eyes. She idly wondered what changed, what took them from being just friends to something more? Had whatever happened to her drastically changed his perspective on them?

Whatever the reason, his words made her heart ache in the best way possible and she reached for him like not a day had passed since they'd broken up inside her dorm room. He went without a second of hesitation and she felt herself let out a breath she had no recollection of holding as her head found its way to the crook of his neck. His arms wrapped around her, like a warm, familiar blanket you hadn't slept with in years and the word home came to the forefront of her mind.

He brushed her hair aside and kissed her neck so gently she teared up. She pulled herself tighter to him, molding their bodies together like she thought she could make them one.

"Please, don't let me go," She whispered into his sweatshirt and his hand rubbed her back from her shoulder blades to her ass.

His lips pressed against her shoulder where his face was buried, inhaling her.

In her still slightly drug induced brain, a name suddenly came to mind.

Yvonne.