a/n: so. i think it's safe to assume that we're all still reeling from the shocking revealation of Toby being part of the a team. personally, i've gone through the shock-denial-acceptance-heartbreak-anger stages, and am currently healing, and attempting to deal with the tragic possibility that our beloved couple may have all been a carefully constructed lie. that being said, i am not giving up on Toby/Spoby, and am still a firm supporter of this flawless pairing, because obviously they're in love and true love conquers all.

so that's where this piece comes in. something that most bugged me about the entire reveal (and believe me when i say that a lot of tiny things about it bugged me!) was that Spencer, of course, still doesn't know. so this is my take on her uncovering the truth, and the painful aftermath. however-in this story at least, i promise a happy-ish ending.

there are a couple people i quickly wanna thank before beginning this, though. after the finale, i was heartbroken, and a few lovely ladies helped ease the pain and shared my sorrow. thanks to Jenn, Bree, Tiffy, Chrissy, Tracey, and all my other Twitter spobettes for that. also, while planning this, i sought out the advice of two amazing friends, who are fabulous writers as well. Chrissy and Tracey, you will forever be my favorite "gurus"! thank you and love you both! i also need to credit my fabulous chica Bree, Spoby writer extraordinaire, who first gave me the Drunk!Toby prompt and supported me all the way. love you girlie. hope i did it justice! finally, this is dedicated to the super sweet Jenn, who is a passionate and dedicated Spoby shipper. love you, dear, and i hope you like this!

i also wanna shamelessly promote-i have created a collab account on here with one of my friends, a fab writer you guys may know as phoenix9648. be sure to check us out when you get the chance; we already have a Spoby oneshot collection in the works :)

also-if any of you are interested in participating in a series of missions to save Spoby, be sure to check out fortheluvofspoby DOT tumblr DOT com. credit to the missions goes to Jenn and Bree :) but, be warned-these are SECRET missions, so make sure to keep it on the DL so no producers/writers/crew members get wind of it, okay? thanks so much to anyone who's already involved, and i would love if we can get more spobettes to join in ;) thanks guys! whew! so i'm gonna stop talking now, and get on with the story ;) (btw if anyone wants to talk theories or anything Spoby/PLL-related, just shoot me a pm or a tweet at alivingfantasy. i'd love to hear your thoughts!)

(quickly though: this piece is a threeshot, and this part is just introductory; pretty short compared to the next two, which i'm already mapping out (thanks Tracey and Chris!). part two should be up by friday/saturday, at the latest. thanks again, guys! don't forget to review and tell me what you think :))

xox, -Ana

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intoxicate-

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part one-the drink

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"I don't understand why you're so upset!" Spencer Hastings exploded, her coffee-colored eyes flashing in anger, nostrils flaring as she glared daggers at her equally-irritated boyfriend.

"Why I'm upset?" Toby Cavanaugh retailated venomously. "Why I'm upset? Spencer, you barely look me in the eyes anymore!" He gazed steadily at the defiant brunette before him, taking a step toward her, handsome face flushed. Spencer stepped backward into the airy kitchenette of Toby's loft above the Rear Window Brew Coffeeshop. She was only a few feet away, but she might as well have been on a different continent, what with all the distance between them. "Spencer, you're keeping things from me. I know you; I can tell."

Spencer spluttered indignantly, "You can tell, huh? Sounds pretty ambiguous, considering we hardly ever see each other anymore. Hell, this is the first time I'm seeing you in two weeks!"

Toby's square jaw dropped, his expression hardening into pure disbelief. The only reason he hadn't been able to spend as much time with Spencer was because he'd been hard at work, struggling to make enough money to pay his monthly fees for the loft, not to mention food expenses and other necessities. Well, that and his secret meetings with-no. He shook that unpleasant thought from his mind. This was not about those sadistic bastards; it was about him and Spencer. "Well, I'm sorry I actually have to work to survive. We can't all have daddies with wallets bigger than our mansions to make our problems go away, you know."

Spencer's eyes widened, then narrowed into dangerous slits. "If that's really how you feel, then why the hell are we here right now, Toby? Why?"

Toby looked at her. Her slightly-mussed dark wavelets, her flushed heart-shaped face, her flashing dark eyes...even angry, she was gorgeous. And he had to admit, it kind of turned him on. But then his anger overcame his lust, and he shook his head. "I don't know, okay? What do you want me to tell you?!" The last part came out much louder than he'd intended, and he felt a pang as he saw his girlfriend flinch. A pang because here he was, screaming at her for hiding things from him, when he was sneaking around betraying her in the worst possible way. He hated it. He hated the secret powwows, the lying, the schemes, the evildoings. He hated what he was doing, what he had to do, but it was the only way. The only way to save the girl he was in love with.

The girl who was now looking at him like she'd never seen him before in her life.

The couple stared at each other for a few seconds, before Spencer abruptly stood, pulling on her Yves St. Laurent jacket and tossing her caramel leather Hermes Kelly bag over her shoulder. "You really don't have to tell me anything." She murmured, suddenly just a ghost of her usually fiery self. She met Toby's eyes for a long moment, conveying her hurt and frustration into the gaze. "You've said enough."

And then she tugged on the door and was gone in a cloud of apple shampoo and mint, the door swinging shut behind her.

Toby's hard expression softened and then crumpled entirely as he sank down onto the futon in the corner of the tiny living room area, pressing his face into his hands. Hot tears sluiced down his cheeks. She was gone. He'd screwed up. He'd hurt her, hurt the one person in his disasterous, hellhole of a life that he truly loved. And she'd left.

His phone went off, the pre-programmed ringtone of Ed Sheeran's "The A-Team" indicating exactly who was calling. He ignored the call, wiping his face inpatiently. Three seconds later, his phone pinged-a text. His caller obviously wasn't giving up.

Playing around with Princess Hastings? We have a job for you.

He felt his jaw clench in anger, and before he even knew what he was doing, he'd tossed the phone against the wall, shattering it into a million tiny pieces. Not unlike his heart. Mona, that psychotic bitch. He'd had to deal with her and the other A Team members calling her-his Spencer, his beautiful, perfect girlfriend-all sorts of obscene things, and he was forced to go along with it. The only way to keep Spencer from harm was to fool Mona and her minions into believing that he was slumming around with Spencer, where, in reality, it was the exact opposite. He loved her more than anything, and hearing those demented sociopaths seethe over and plot to hurt his gorgeous girlfriend made him want to punch them each until he was spent or they were dead, whichever came first. But, for the moment, he was at their mercy.

Which meant she was, too.

He sighed in disgust-disgust at them, disgust at himself-and walked over to the mini-fridge Spencer had purchased him over the summer, after much begging, coaxing, and please, Toby?s. In the end, he'd conceeded, and he was glad. There was no way he'd have been able to afford one of these models on his meager salary. Toby sighed, pulling open the fridge, and as he scanned its contents, he thought about his fight with Spencer, and how their entire relationship was hanging by the thinnest thread. But how it was so, so worth it. It was worth every lie, every text, every secret.

He loved her. He loved her more than even he himself knew how to express. But did she know? Did Spencer know how much he loved her; all the sacrifices he'd made for her?

Earlier that evening

"Hey, handsome," Spencer cooed as Toby opened the door to his loft for her. The couple hadn't been able to spend quality time together for a few weeks, and both were thrilled to finally spend a relaxing, carefree evening cuddling at Toby's abode.

"Hey," he smiled happily as she stood up on tiptoe to kiss him. What was supposed to be a light peck quickly escalated into a long, heated kiss. Spencer backed Toby a few feet into the loft, kicking the door shut behind her with the heel of her boot. Sinking down onto the futon, the couple kept kissing, completely lost in each other. Finally, out of breath, they broke away, their foreheads touching, Toby's fingers tangled through Spencer's dark curls.

"Wow," Toby laughed breathlessly. "What was that for?"

She smiled slightly, shaking her head. "I just...I missed you, that's all."

Toby felt a grin wash over his face, his hand tenderly cupping Spencer's face. "I missed you too, Spence." She buried her face in his shoulder, letting out a tiny, content sigh.

For a moment, Spencer and Toby relished just being together, intertwined on his couch, where the drama and pain couldn't touch them.

And then that moment shattered.

Beep, beep. Spencer rolled her eyes in annoyance as her phone sounded. "It's probably my mom," she told Toby, shooting him an apologetic smile as she untangled herself from him. Toby nodded, watching as she opened the text. Watching as her pretty face darkened, the remnants of her smile fading slowly before vanishing completely, replaced by a hard, worried reaction.

"Who is it?" Toby asked in concern, swinging his legs off the side of the couch and walking over to Spencer. She immediately snapped her phone shut, angling it away from her boyfriend. "Nobody," she replied defensively.

Toby was confused. He would understand her reaction if it was an 'A' text, but the team didn't have anything planned for that evening. At least not that he knew of. But what else would warrant that kind of reaction from Spencer?

"Spencer...it has to be someone," Toby pointed out. "What is it?"

She shook her head. "I told you, it's nothing. No one, okay? Can we just drop it?" She attempted to skirt around Toby, but he stopped her.

"No, we can't. Spencer, I'm worried about you okay? When you're hiding things from me-"

"Is that it? Do you not trust me?" Spencer snapped, obviously starting to get annoyed.

"I trust you, it's just-"

"No, you don't. If you trusted me, this inquisition wouldn't be happening!"

Toby shook his head to clear it. Screw that. He went to close the door to the fridge, pausing as he caught sight of a translucent bottle of sloshing amber liquid. Scotch. To be more precise, the cheap Scotch that a coworker had gleefully tossed him one night in late July. "A housewarming gift, son," he'd cackled. "Or maybe you can use it to get that pretty little girl of yours into bed. That is the best type of housewarming," he added wistfully. Toby had blushed and muttered a thanks, but, not being much of a drinker, had stowed the Scotch away.

Until now, that was.

He carefully picked up the bottle in his calloused carpenter's hands, turning it over and over idly. The deep brown liquid looked eerily similar to the color of the deep eyes he was trying so hard to forget. The eyes he knew he could never forget, because he loved them too much.

He loved Spencer too much.

He knew he shouldn't. He knew getting drunk wasn't going to solve anything. But he wanted to forget. Forget pain and agony and fear. He needed to forget.

What the hell?, he thought, uncorking the bottle, releasing the thick, sweet scent of the alcohol into the air. Just the smell made him dizzy. But this was the only way to forget, if only for a moment.

After all, he was just a boy in love who had gone to great, ugly ends to preserve it; a boy who'd lost everything until he'd found it, and was now forced to give it up.

He deserved a drink.

Two hours later, the bottle was almost empty. A very dazed, inebriated Toby sat (although 'lounged' was probably more accurate), one leg dangling off the arm of the futon, twirling the bottlecap in his fingers. The exhilerating rush-along with the disorienting haze-the alcohol brought was a refreshing change from the feelings of guilt and worry and self-hatred that came with working for the A Team. Of hurting her. Spencer. His Spencer.

Spencer.

His eyes squeezed shut, his alcohol-slowed brain finally realizing what his heart had the moment Spencer had left: he needed her. Right at that moment. He needed to hold her in his arms, and breathe in her intoxicating scent and kiss her and tell her how much she meant to him. Hands trembling, he groped blindly for the wireless phone on his counter, waiting for his vision to un-double before dialing her familiar number.

"Hello?" she sounded like she'd been crying. Or sleeping. Right. It's past midnight.

"Spencer, come over," he managed.

"What?"

"Please. I-I need you to come..."

There was a momentary pause, and then Spencer exhaled one word.

"Okay." Click.

Hanging up as well and tossing the phone carelessly aside, Toby let out a relieved sigh, slumping back onto the futon.

Maybe there was a chance that he could fix this mess, after all.

But, as the amber liquid still lingering at the bottom of the bottle silently taunted him, maybe, just maybe, he was setting himself up for a bigger mess.

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