I loved the Spencer/Toby story arc, and I thought Spencer's descent into depression offered many creative opportunities. I don't own the characters, etc, etc. This is just my imagination shooting out what I think could be a plausible continuation of the story.

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She is sitting at her desk, shuffling a deck of cards. Her lank hair falls around her face, the ends of it catching in the still-healing cut on her chin. She raises a bandaged hand to push it away, and she wonders, not for the first time, how she ended up in here.

One minute she was planning an anniversary surprise for Toby, the love of her life, and then everything spiralled out of control. Before she knew it she was crashing through the woods, falling onto the ground, unable to think or breathe or –

She takes a deep breath, digging her nails into her palm. The pain helps to keep her focussed.

"Toby is dead," she tells herself softly. "Toby is dead."

The words still sound wrong, even though she knows they're true. Even though no one will believe her. Toby is dead. He betrayed her. He took off. And he is never coming back.

She has been here for over two days. Aside from her sister, her therapist, and Mona, she hasn't had any visitors. The nurse told her that she is only allowed to see family until the mandatory evaluation is over. The staff in the psych ward know who she is now, although she never told them. She isn't a Jane Doe. She is Spencer Hastings, no matter how much she wishes she weren't.

After the seventy-two hour period is up, she'll be able to see her friends. Either she'll be released, in which case she'll have to go back to school and face her family and friends and all the rumours that she knows must be flying around town by now. Poor little Spencer. So much pressure that she finally cracked.

The alternative is that she won't pass the evaluation, that she'll be kept here. That doesn't seem like such a bad thing right now. In here she is safe. The bars keep her in, and they keep others out. She is alone. But she desperately misses her friends, and she hopes that even if she is kept here for longer, they'll lift the family-only policy.

She needs to tell her friends what she saw that night. But before she does that, she needs to figure out exactly what she did see. She was in the woods. She came across Toby's body. There was a noise. Then she was running.

She's been running for so long that she's finding it hard to sit still.

X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X

"Spencer."

The sound of her name brings her unwillingly back into reality. She turns her head towards the therapist who is sitting across from her.

"I guess," she says in response to a question asked over five minutes ago.

"So you were overwhelmed and you felt like giving up," the therapist continues. "Would you say that you were… suicidal?"

Spencer tilts her head, narrowing her eyes.

"I didn't do this to myself, if that's what you mean." She turns away again, her gaze drifting towards the window. It's cloudy outside. "But maybe I deserved it."

This seems to alarm the therapist, but Spencer is beyond caring. She is retreating into herself, immune from pain and oblivious to further questions. She can hear the therapist talking, but it's just background noise. She keeps staring out the window until she sees the therapist move, going to consult with the staff at the desk.

Slowly the blurred images outside the window fade, and she sees that forest again. She can see the clouds, a few stars peeking through, and the ground rushing up to meet her. She remembers falling down several times, and the last time she didn't get up. But before that, before she'd completely fallen apart… she'd seen something. There had been a noise, stealing her attention away from the cold body of her lover. She'd chased after it. After them. It was a person in a black hoodie. It was -A.

The doctor is probably going to tell them that she's unresponsive, unwilling. She will most likely recommend that Spencer be kept for further observation. Indefinite imprisonment. She stands up and makes her way over to the piano.

At first her fingers just rest lightly on the keys, but slowly she begins to play. She hasn't played in years, but it still comes easily to her. She loses herself in the music, the plunging minor notes giving voice to pain that is still too fresh for her to express. As she finishes the piece she realises that something is wrong. It's only half of the song – the other half was always played by Melissa. With just her it's incomplete.

Without Toby she is incomplete.

She stops playing, the music trailing into nothing, and digs her nails in again. She mustn't think about him. They're over now. He's dead. And a part of her is too.

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Unsurprisingly, the therapist comes back to tell her that they're not comfortable letting her go and that she'll have to stay there for at least another night. Spencer doesn't react to the news. She's starting to forget that people expect some kind of outward reaction, some sign of emotion. It doesn't matter anymore. She's beyond feeling anyway.

She doesn't get much sleep that night. She may be safe here, but she's not comfortable. Shadows dance on the ceiling, wind moans outside, and her mind will not rest. She lies awake for most of the night, and when she sleeps it's intermittently and fitfully. When she wakes up she feels far from rested. There are no mirrors in her room, but she knows she must look terrible.

Sometime in the early afternoon (she guesses; time doesn't have much meaning here), while she's sitting in the common room and trying to convince herself that she's not like these other patients, a visitor comes.

At first she doesn't register who it is. She assumes it's just somebody coming to visit one of the others, one of the ones who have visiting rights. She doesn't have that privilege yet. She's still meant to be supervised almost constantly, and she hears the staff call her 'high risk'.

A shadow falls across her. "Spencer?"

She blinks. Standing before her is Emily, looking as glamorous as ever. Spencer looks in her general direction but isn't ready to meet her eyes. She doesn't want to think about what she'd see there.

"Can I sit?" Emily asks, gesturing to the empty chair across from her.

"Sure." Spencer resumes staring into space.

Emily pulls the chair closer to her and settles into it. She seems to struggle with herself for a moment, as if she's not sure how to proceed. It's like she doesn't know me, Spencer thinks, and she realises that's true. She's been pulling away so much that it would be impossible for her friends to understand her anymore. She's not sure she wants them to.

Finally Emily comes to some kind of decision. She reaches out, intending on some kind of gesture of comfort, but Spencer shies away from her touch. Emily looks hurt. Perhaps she hadn't expected Spencer to be like this.

"Are you… are you okay?" Emily asks at last.

"I'm in a psych ward," Spencer says pointedly. "What do you think?"

"Right." Emily bites her lip. "I just – I mean… what happened?"

Spencer slumps a little in her chair, playing with the sleeve of her shirt. "It doesn't matter now."

Although Spencer can see that Emily is dying to find out, she doesn't push the issue. Instead she tries a different tactic.

"Aria and Hanna send their love," she says.

Spencer doesn't know how to react to that. Love doesn't seem to mean much these days. She'd loved Toby, and yet –

"Thanks."

"They're sorry they couldn't come," Emily goes on. "I'm sure they're going to when they have the chance. I was the only one with a free period. Aria wanted to skip school to come and visit, but I told her not to. Besides, it's probably better if we do it one at a time so -"

She cuts herself off as if she's only just realising the implications of what she's saying.

"Yeah. Wouldn't want to overwhelm poor broken me."

"Spence, I didn't mean -"

"I know."

Although she'd thought she was numb, Spencer is coming to the horrible realisation that she still feels. She feels alone, even though one of her best friends is sitting right there beside her. She feels like things are never going to get better. She feels… broken.

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An hour after Emily leaves, Hanna arrives.

Spencer is still sitting in the same place she was during her conversation with Emily, who had eventually left after an unbearably long period of silence. The distance between them had been so difficult to deal with that Spencer had spent the following hour holding back tears.

Hanna is, as always, stylish. Next to her Spencer is sure she looks like a drowned rat. Neither of them speaks for a few minutes. Hanna sits down opposite her, but unlike Emily she moves the chair further away. Is that because she understands how important it is to give her space, or is it because she's scared of her?

"Hi," Hanna says at last. She holds out a small container. "I, uh, I made cookies."

"I'm not hungry," Spencer says, not looking at it. She hasn't felt hungry in days.

Deflated, Hanna pulls the container back in and then sets it on the table. She crosses her legs. She clasps her hands. She gives Spencer such a look of intense curiosity and concern that she just wants to disappear.

"Hanna -" Spencer says.

Her friend cuts her off. "What are you doing here?" she says, and the harshness of her words and her tone makes Spencer flinch. "You don't belong in Radley. This is place for crazy people, and you are not crazy."

Although she's dimly aware that this is meant to be some kind of inspiring, uplifting speech, Spencer can do no more than pick at the bandage on her hand and refuse to look at her friend.

"Hey," Hanna goes on. "Spence. Look at me."

She doesn't.

"Spencer. Look at me."

Reluctantly, Spencer turns her gaze to her friend, but she doesn't meet her eyes.

"You're not crazy," Hanna says passionately. "You don't need to be here. You've been through hell – we all have – but we can get through it. Together. Cutting yourself off isn't going to help. Staying locked up in here isn't going to solve all your problems. You need to get yourself out of here so your friends can help you through this. Do you hear me?"

"I hear you," Spencer says softly. "But you're not hearing me."

"That's because you're not saying anything!" Hanna bursts out, and then ducks her head as if embarrassed. "I'm sorry."

Spencer shrugs. "There's nothing to say anymore."

"So I'm meant to be hearing your silence?" Hanna raises an eyebrow.

"Psych ward," Spencer reminds her. "I don't have to make sense."

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Despite how much she'd wanted to see her friends, Spencer felt even worse now that Emily and Hanna had both visited her. She'd thought that maybe after talking to them she'd be able to start healing, that maybe they were the only people who could start to bring her out of this depression. But she hadn't been able to open up to them. She hadn't even been able to look at them.

And where was Aria?

She supposed that of all of them, she'd hurt Aria the most. She'd been the one to tell Ezra about his son, and when Aria had come to talk to her about it she'd been hostile towards her. It wasn't that she wanted to hurt her friends. She just felt trapped, and lashing out was the only thing that had helped. She'd thought that if her friends backed off she'd be able to sort herself out. That had worked out well.

She runs a hand through her hair, closing her eyes, allowing herself to fall deeper inside her own cracked mind until she's back in the woods. In some ways she never left, or at least she left something behind. It was like when she fell on that cold hard ground the impact knocked something out of her, some of her spirit or her soul, and now it was lying abandoned beneath the trees.

What had happened after she'd started chasing the black hoodie? She remembers getting to her feet, and a mad dash through the woods. Branches were whipping her face. She tripped over a couple rocks. Had she hit her head? Is that why she can't remember catching up with the person? Or had she just not caught up with them at all? The whole night is a confused mess in her head, and whenever she tries to sort through the flashing images she gets tripped up by the blocks she's unknowingly put up in her own mind. –A has been messing with her for so long that she can't even tell which thoughts and memories came from herself and which were from external sources.

She opens her eyes and looks around at her empty room. She thinks of all sorts of sophisticated metaphors to explain how that room is like her mind and her heart, and then she laughs at her foolishness. She doesn't think she'll be going to college now. This breakdown has been so sudden and so severe, and so incredibly life-altering. She can't see beyond these walls, beyond this moment, beyond that gaping emptiness inside her. What do metaphors matter now?

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It takes her hours to fall asleep, and when she finally does it comes as no relief. The second her consciousness slips away, the exact moment all thoughts cease, the flood of images begins. Like a spring it bubbles up from somewhere unseen, faint at first but growing stronger until it finally bursts forth in an undeniable rush of power, instilling a heart-stopping terror in her.

Like every other time, she is running.

Only this time she isn't herself. She is above, around, away. She can see herself stumbling through the trees, falling, righting herself, sobbing and gasping for breath. And there, just ahead but always out of reach, is the person in the black hoodie. They come across a path, dash across it, and shoot off through the thickest clump of trees. Spencer reaches the path, hesitates for just a second, and then crashes into the mess of leaves and branches.

She's getting closer now. The black-clad figure is slowing, tiring. She herself is running on pure adrenaline, and she has a while before it expires. A branch snaps back in her face and she's blinded for a moment, but she keeps staggering forward. Her sight returns and there, standing before her, is the mysterious figure. The person glances back, face obscured by shadow, and Spencer knows she's won the race.

Legs shaking, heart pounding, she approaches the figure.

"Who are you?" she whispers.

She reaches out, trembling, drops of blood springing free from her hand and splattering on the ground. She pulls the hood up, revealing the face of her tormentor. Of Toby's killer. Of her worst enemy.

She jerks awake, breathing as fast as if she really had been running through the woods. Her room is silent, as empty as ever.

Except.

There's a shadow in the corner. Something that's not meant to be there. As Spencer blinks away sleep, hand on her heart as if to slow it down, the shadow moves. It comes closer, becomes clearer. The features are illuminated by the moonlight trickling through the window.

"It's you," Spencer breathes.

Aria sits down on the end of her bed, pulling the black hood away from her face.

"Hey Spence," she says quietly.

Spencer recoils like she's been physically hit. The blow to her heart is much worse than any physical injury she's ever had.

"You're –A." Spencer tries to wrap her head around the fact, but it doesn't make any sense. So many questions come to mind that it's difficult to pick just one. Finally she settles on, "Why?"

Her friend doesn't answer. Instead she just gives Spencer a kind of pitying look and reaches into her pocket. From it she withdraws a couple of white pills, glistening in the moonlight. She holds them out on her hand, an offering.

"What are they?" Spencer asks, her eyes widening.

"Tranquilisers," Aria explains, tipping the pills into Spencer's hand. "Take them."

"Why would -"

"If you want to live, you'll take them."

Spencer balks. "Are you threatening me?"

Aria's mouth twists into a grim smile. "Just take them, Spence. Please."

Spencer's hand closes around the pills, but she doesn't take them. "Do Hanna and Emily know?"

"No." Aria stands up and looks out the window. For a moment Spencer thinks she's admiring the scenery, but then she nods and Spencer realises she was waiting for a signal. "And they're not going to find out."

Finding out that Toby was on the A-Team had broken her. Learning that Aria was also involved is enough to shatter her completely. Her best friend, her boyfriend. There is no one she can trust. She is completely alone.

Aria's phone goes off and she reads the message. Her face darkens.

"We've gotta go," Aria says, coming towards her, "now."

Spencer stands up and backs away, letting the pills fall onto the ground. "Don't come near me," she snarls.

Aria pulls up short. She tugs on the strings of her hoodie, glances at the door. "We can do this the easy way -" she says, reaching into her pocket, "- or -"

Running entirely on some primal instinct, relying on energy fuelled by the fury of betrayal, Spencer charges at her. She crashes into the much smaller girl, slamming her against the door. Aria lets out a sharp cry of pain, but the shock of the attack isn't enough to deter her from her mission. She shoves Spencer off of her, pulls a heavy flashlight from her pocket, and hits the hospital-gowned girl across the face.

Spencer's out before she hits the ground.

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For the second time in recent memory, Spencer slowly wakes up to find herself in a speeding car. She gently touches the bruise blossoming on her cheek and groans.

"I'm sorry," Aria says, glancing over at her from the driver's seat. "I didn't want to do it this way."

"Do what?" Spencer demands, clenching her fist to stop herself from screaming. "Aria, what are you doing?"

"Just following orders, Spence," Aria says, a hint of regret coloring her voice. "You'll get it soon enough."

"I'm not sure I want to get it." Spencer's voice is still slightly hoarse from lack of use, but she manages to add enough venom to her words to make Aria wince. "I don't think I want to know what's going on. And I certainly don't want to know you."

"You don't," Aria says. "Know me, that is. You never really did."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It doesn't matter." Aria shakes her head. "We're almost there."

Less than five minutes later they pull up outside the resort. The same place Mona's lair had been, the exact place they'd sped away from when Mona had tried to convince Spencer to join the A-Team.

"No," Spencer says as the realisation hits her. "No."

"Spence," Aria pleads as she turns off the engine, "this is the only way. If you don't go along with it they'll -"

"They'll what?" Spencer's voice is as icy as the snow-covered trees lining the drive. "Kill me? Go ahead. I've got nothing left."

That makes Aria lose some of her composure. She reaches over and rests her hand on Spencer's arm, for the split second until the other girl yanks it away.

"Don't touch me," Spencer spits.

Aria looks hurt. "I didn't want it to be like this. I tried to -"

"I don't care." Spencer turns her gaze fixedly out the window. "Let's just get this over with."

X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X

Mona smiles, revealing glittering teeth that remind Spencer of a wolf. She feels about as safe too.

"Why me?" Spencer asks.

She's sitting on a chair in the middle of the room, with Mona standing in front of the door and Aria in front of the window. Even if she could overpower one of them, both are armed. Spencer briefly wonders where they got guns from, but that's the least of her worries right now.

"You're the smart one, Spencer," Mona says, her voice like sugar coated daggers. "You're the strong one. The others, they're only holding you back. Join us and I'll show you the kind of girl you can be. I'll help you become the woman you were meant to be. It's time to break free and forge your own path. With us."

"I will never stand with you," Spencer says fiercely, her words soft but strong.

Mona frowns, tapping a finger on her chin in mock-thoughtfulness. "You'd rather stand with your friends, then? Are you so sure you have friends anymore, Spencer?"

Spencer opens her mouth for a jagged reply, but Mona cuts across.

"I mean, look at Aria here. She was your friend, wasn't she?"

Aria ducks her head, unable to meet her eyes. Spencer glares at her, and then turns that death stare onto Mona. "You can't make me disappear. Emily and Hanna will notice. They'll find out what happened."

"Like they found out what happened to Ali?" Mona asks sweetly.

It takes everything Spencer has not to leap from her chair and strangle her again. "You can't do this. I won't join you. I could never -"

"You don't have a choice, Spencer." Mona fiddles with the gun, letting it reflect the moonlight in a theatrically terrifying way. "You turned me down last time, but now… I'm afraid I'm going to have to be a bit more insistent."

Spencer sees it in front of her: an impossible choice. Her friends or her life. If she died here, it wouldn't be enough to guarantee her friends' safety. Surely the A-Team would go after Hanna or Emily once she was gone. Unless they were already part of the team, like Aria was. In which case her death was probably exactly what they wanted. But if she walked away from this, she would have to hurt them. She would have to become their worst enemy, and her own enemy in the process.

Mona walks toward her, holding the gun in one hand and a black hoodie in the other.

"What's it gonna be, Spence?"

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I may leave it at this, or I may write a sequel. Thoughts? Comments? Opinions?

Edit: You can stop reading here if you want. It works well if you want to leave it up to your imagination. But if you want to read more, go check out my multi-chapter story 'Can't Count On Me', which explains what happens next.

Reviews are still always welcome!