Author's Note: I had so many theories about this song when it first came out...like A Team, really? More like A Army. I mean, am I right or am I right? And I'm talking to those of you who watched the premiere yesterday...I'm actually excited for Season Five.

AND WOO HOO 100 ONE-SHOTS! Only...130 more to go!

Day One-Hundred: The a Team by Ed Sheeran

"I just feel like…I'm not really living. I'm sick of dying and…scared of living," she said as-a-matter-of-factly.

He stared at her from behind the lens once more before turning off the camera.

It was for what felt like the first time that he noticed how hollow she looked. Her lips looked void of life and of blood. Her face was paler than usual. Her face looked sallow and bonier than it usually did. She didn't look anorexic, but she certainly looked sick. It was such a shame, considering how gorgeous she once was. He knew she'd been this way since eighteen, but she looked so degenerate now, like she could keel over and die any second now.

She shook her head before she took out a cigarette and lit it. She offered one to Toby. He took it apprehensively. She lit hers before passing the lighter to him. The smoke burned in her lungs and left a sour taste in her mouth, but she didn't really care.

She looked out on the horizon. From here, the ocean was clearly visible. The sun looked beautiful as it dipped into the water, the orangey-yellowy pink coloring the rippled ocean. Her eyes seemed to tear, as though she was looking at something so beautiful. But nothing was quite beautiful anymore. She was just jaded.

As he took a drag of the cigarette, she inhaled all of the smoke. She even breathed in some of the whitish-grey ashes. They were like tiny snowflakes in the cold air.

"Spencer—"

"I don't know why you're so concerned about me. I'm going to die anyway; everyone knows it," she said steadily before taking another shaky drag of her own cigarette. "I need to live."

"Spence, you can't keep using drugs."

"Yeah, I can," she snapped back. "Look, I know you care about me, and I care about you, too, but I have to find some way to deal with it. It's a long night with a lot of odd strangers when you don't have something to numb the pain," she admitted shamefully.

He watched as she crumbled and it was too much for him to bear. Why was it that the worst always seemed to happen to them? They seemed to be the unlucky ones.

She pulled her ripped coat closer to her tiny body. He could still see her shivering.

"Spence, you need to go inside," he insisted kindly. "I can't let you stay out here. You're freezing. It's too cold for you to be out tonight."

She sniffled. She didn't want to go out at all tonight. She never wanted to go out. She wished she could quit right that second and never do any of this again—selling herself and buying drugs to cope with it—but she knew that was not possible.

"Spencer, I could help you if—"

"No," she answered definitively.

"You didn't even—"

"I've tried living with someone or with the help of someone and it never worked. I'm fine," she insisted.

"But you're not!"

She sighed. She walked over to her "dining room" table and picked up some of the spare notes and pounds she had on the counter. She handed a £20 bank note to him, along with three £2 coins and 50 pence. "That's all I can give you for the electric bill from last month. I don't even know how it got that high, since I've been using candles pretty much the whole time I've been here. I guess a minimum," she shrugged.

He stared at the money she put in his hands and then promptly gave it back to her. "I can't take it. But you can't spend it on drugs," he said sternly.

She stared at him. "I already have drugs," she murmured. "I think maybe you should go."

He was going to protest, but realized it wouldn't work. He was nervous that even though he was just down the hall, something would go wrong and he'd never see her again.

He missed the Spencer he once knew. She was always at the top of the class and dreaming. She was so sincere and naïve. She was still sincere, only…she was very knowing and distrusting now.

He only wished he could've been the catcher in the rye and kept her from falling off the edge. He wished he could've kept her under a glass jar. But that wasn't how things happened.

She ushered him out the door and as soon as he left, she dug under her bed for a tin and the pipe. She began to smoke the drugs she had gotten. She began to feel numb. Within a few minutes, she lost complete control of her body. There was no telling what she'd do when she was high like this.

He wondered what was happening to her as he lay in bed that night. He wondered if she was sleeping peacefully, or doing the deed with a man she didn't know for shite. Or worse.

He wondered if she'd die like an angel. She was teetering on the edge of life and death at the moment, so he could only hope to hear from her tomorrow.

He knew she was hoping for a better life. He wished he could help her, but he couldn't. For crying out loud, he would give her the moon and the stars and the sun if he could.

In their next life, he knew it would be better. It was the kind of feeling he got in his bones. And if anything, he'd make it happen.

They could fade tonight. Tonight was the night that angels would die.

At least, it felt that way.

LittleBittyAbby: My final was 7 questions and I got ONE and a HALF wrong and I got a 77. Don't talk to me. I WISH my final was 110 questions.

tobyequalshottness: ...that was really cruel. Sure, you can have a gold star, but only if you stop asking and get everyone else to stop asking. Jk. Just stop asking. Please.

Sarah:You're anaemic? Legit? I need to talk to you about your anaemia. I'm writing a little something and one particular character is anaemic. You must have a really high-iron diet, right? So it's a good thing you like green stuff because green, leafy vegetables are really high in iron. I don't drink milk. I just like froyo and ice cream. I really hoped I did your husband justice. By the way, AL told me to tell you she supports your marriage but he's still her bae. And if you hurt him, she'll hurt you. Don't shoot the messenger.

AussieMizzie:How the hell did you review from an airplane? Isn't that, like, illegal? Or unpossible? Or something? How long is the flight from PA to Australalia? The longest plane ride I've ever been on was from NYC to LHR, which is only about six hours, so I have no clue. Ugh, I wish I got an aisle to myself when I went to LHR/came back. The flight there wasn't as bad, but by the flight back, I was ready to kill myself with annoyance from being around the same 40 people for a whole week. In addition, the two people sitting beside me wouldn't stop making out. And ON TOP OF THAT, my headphones broke and the ones on the plane were really dumb. Well, at least you're off the plane now.

AL3110: Well, that's...interesting, I guess. That is legit the most disturbing smut I have ever seen. It really wasn't that bad. Come on, AL. I delivered the message. And just call me Mama Kaybae (since you like calling me that, apparently). I tried but I can't like you don't even k-no, you don't even k-now.

IDK if it's just me, but you guys have to look up Heather Dubrow on Google Images and JUST TRY AND TELL ME (with a straight face) THAT SHE DOESN'T LOOK LIKE AN OLDER VERSION OF SPENCER HASTINGS! Really, it's kind of scary. And she talks like Spencer. And she acts kind of like Spencer. Like...I can't. I can't. She would totally play the 40-year version of Spencer Hastings.

The next one-shot is going to be Love is a Losing Game by Amy Winehouse which I kind of didn't like, and that's a shame, since I like Amy Winehouse and I think that's the only song of hers in the collection. Oh, and did you know that one of my teachers met Amy Winehouse? And that his son got patted on the head by her? Yup. Facts.

I would really, really, really, really like to get 6 reviews on this one-shot because I really love it and I think it's cool...ish. I don't know. I just liked it. Please review, mkay? Por favor? -Kayson (oops I almost wrote my real name)