Hello, Liars! Welcome to the first chapter of yet another story, because I may have a slight addiction to writing fanfic for this show. This one is one the shorter side, but there will be two other stories to follow it, which collectively make up my 'devils' series. There are a few things you need to know before you start to read. This is AU, so most of the girls' secrets haven't come out yet - so Emily hasn't come out, Aria hasn't told them about Ezra, Hanna hasn't been busted for shoplifting, Spencer never came clean about her thing with Ian. And, most importantly, they don't know who A is. It starts off pretty heavy but it's not all this dark and horrible, I promise. So, favorite, follow, review, and join me on this journey.

Shoutout to my two Sarahs for letting me run the first chapter by them, and for putting up with my ranting and rambling in general.

Here we go...

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Waking from a dream, Spencer Hastings found herself plunged into a nightmare.

Her mind was still full of images of flowers and waterfalls and gently whispering winds, but her eyes were seeing something else entirely. Her bedroom door was open, not the way she'd left it, and there was a shadow, something too dark and sinister to be part of the room, and it was moving toward her. She was on her feet in a second. Whatever it was, she wasn't going to let it catch her lying down.

The shadow stiffened at her movements, drawing back, startled – or maybe merely strategizing. Perhaps they hadn't expected such resistance, such quick thinking, such forceful movements, and were now trying to regroup. She reached behind her, feeling for something, anything –

A letter opener. Real silver, just sharp enough to draw blood. She clenched her hand around it, holding it behind her back, her eyes never straying from the shadow. But the problem with shadows is that they're never really there, and a second is all it takes for them to disappear.

She blinked, and it was gone. She took a step forward, peering into the darkness. Was the shadow really gone, or had it just merged with the other shadows, hidden from her sight but still watching her with unseen, all-seeing eyes?

"Hello?" she called tentatively.

There was no point trying to hide. It was already here, and there was no choice but to face it. That would be easier to do, of course, if she could see it. And after half a minute staring into the gloom, something moved. It was just a flash, a flicker, in the corner of her eyes, and she spun around, but it was already gone.

The bright green numbers on her digital clock told her that it was twelve minutes after one, but she felt wide awake. Everything was on high alert, her heart hammering, her synapses firing at full speed, ready for fight or flight – god, was she ready. The second she saw movement, she lunged. If she could catch it off-guard, if she could get one step ahead –

But you can't outwit a shadow, you can't outsmart it, and sometimes you can't escape it.

She stumbled forward, seeming to trip on the darkness itself, like evil had manifested and become something solid, and then the darkness hit her, knocking the letter opener from her hand. It skidded across the floor, out of reach, and then the darkness was rising, in front of her, and she saw Ali's face.

There was a person before her, and they seemed to be made of darkness, but the light streaming in the window glinted off the mask they wore, that horrible caricature of her dead friend. She stared at it for just a moment too long, enough to give the shadow – the person – the advantage.

The person, the one with Ali's face and the black hood and the ability to meld into darkness, reached out. Grabbed her with a grip so hard she let out a surprised whimper. Spun her around and pushed her up against the wall, ignoring her startled cry.

"Don't scream," they whispered in her ear.

"What if I do?" she shot back, all her bravery dissipating in the night, fading into nothing more than indignant terror.

She felt metal press against her neck, cold and unyielding, and it was enough to ensure her silence. She bit her lip, hard enough to draw blood, as the figure tied her hands behind her back, with rope that burned almost as much as the terrified anger in her heart.

"Come with me," the figure commanded, turning her around and marching her toward the door.

"Like I have a choice," she muttered, but her attempt at humor did nothing to relieve the tension.

Spencer found herself being led through her house, her own house, where her parents and sister were sleeping soundly, unaware that she was being taken. She could call out, she could try to wake them, but she wasn't willing to bet her life that they'd get here in time.

It was cold outside, and her first thought when the door swung open was that she should have brought a sweater. Of course she couldn't bring a sweater, she was being abducted. She would have laughed at her own inappropriate thought, but there was no time. The figure hadn't let go of her, and it pushed her onward, toward a waiting car.

They came to a stop in front of it, and while the figure fumbled in their pockets for the keys, she looked back at the house. Safety was close enough to reach, but too risky to try. The figure could kill her before she'd even taken a step; she had a feeling the letter opener was not the most dangerous weapon at their disposal.

"Get in," the figure growled, shoving her toward the back. "Lie down."

She complied, curling up on the back seat with her heart in her throat and her hands still tied behind her. The figure obviously didn't want her to work out where they were going, but maybe they didn't know she'd be able to keep track anyway. She closed her eyes, focusing on the way the car felt beneath her, every turn and acceleration, every stop and roundabout. But twenty minutes into the drive, she realized she wasn't as clever as she'd thought. The figure, the one who came from darkness, was one step ahead. They'd doubled back and turned around so much that she had no idea where she was.

After the longest ride of her life, the car rolled to a stop and the door near her feet opened.

"Sit up," said the figure, and, "Get out."

As soon as she sat up the figure hauled her to her feet and took her toward the house. It wasn't one she knew, and as she glanced up and down the street she didn't see any recognizable landmarks. As she was forced up to the house, she tried to look at the figure, but all she could see was the mask. The voice sounded familiar, or maybe it was just the way the voice of a black-hooded figure sounded in her mind: low, menacing, almost as dark as the night around them.

The door was pushed open, and she was pushed inside, and then the door was closed and locked behind her.

She was alone, and she was probably going to die.

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Say what you will, but you can't accuse me of having a slow first chapter. ;)