A/N: Okay, so I have only basic zombie knowledge and wrote this at midnight when I couldn't sleep and was looking for writing prompts online. And like any blockbuster zombie movie, I've tweaked the details to fit my own story. Different symptoms and stuff like that. Just roll with the changes if you study the living dead for a living or something.

This is less of a gory, action-packed zombie massacre and more of a sad, what-are-we-gonna-do-about-this-situation story.

Leave a review and tell me what you think after!

"Who drank more than their share of water?"

Aria flinched at the sight of Spencer storming into the makeshift living area, her friend's face an angry shade of red. The tall girl tipped the bleach bottle she was holding upside-down, displaying the fact there was no more water inside.

Hanna and Emily stopped their game of cards and stared, eyebrows furrowed.

"We need this to last until the first wave dies down and the military can send help," Spencer stated, seething. Her eye twitched. "I thought I was very clear on the ration schedule."

Before any of them could respond, their usually rational-minded friend chucked the empty bottle against the wall and cursed, loudly. "I know this sounds hilarious coming from me of all people, but we need to practice restraint if we're going to get out of this alive. These resources aren't unlimited. Understand?"

They all nodded a bit dumbly, too frightened to speak for fear Spencer would strangle someone.

"If I find out who emptied this jug without a good reason, you're going out there. On your own. With maybe a lamp for a weapon." Spencer dragged her hand through her hair, teeth clenched. "I love all of you guys… but if one of us has to get torn apart by those… infected… to save the rest of us… So be it." The girl suddenly sunk to the floor, looking exhausted. "Water is life now," she whispered, putting her head in her hands.

Aria, Emily, and Hanna exchanged nervous glances. They'd been cooped up in an underground bunker for weeks and their friend was normally high-strung anyway, but Spencer had been acting especially odd since the day before. Losing her temper quicker, getting off balance, muttering to herself…

Since her last watch outside….

Had Spencer been…?

No, she'd tell them. Spencer was the one most concerned for their safety; she wouldn't put the whole group at risk by not telling them she'd been bitten. Aria thought Spencer would even off herself if she knew she was going to turn. Wouldn't she?

Hanna didn't seem convinced, though.

Aria watched the blonde warily approach Spencer and half-stood in protest as Hanna's fingers curled around the hilt of the knife at her belt. But she froze in place as Hanna shot her a look that made it clear her intention wasn't to hurt Spencer… yet.

"Spence," Hanna started, inching closer to the brunette that stayed huddled on the floor. "Take off your jacket and your shirt."

Spencer's head snapped up, a vein in her temple pulsing. "What?" She noticed the half-drawn blade, the suspicion in Hanna's eyes, and scrambled backwards. None of them missed the panic that crossed her face.

Aria and Emily were both on their feet at once, hoisting their own weapons.

"God, Spencer," said Emily, shaking her head in disbelief as she checked that her shotgun was loaded. "Are you serious?"

Spencer raised her hands in a conciliatory manner, all her anger from earlier replaced by stark fear. Her voice was pleading. "Guys…"

Aria swallowed thickly. Now she knew without a doubt that Spencer was infected. Hastings didn't beg until their life was on the line. And if Spencer was perfectly healthy, why was she being so cagey?

"It happened so fast. I-I was on the lookout post and one snuck up from behind and…" Spencer hesitated, her voice crackling. She looked on the verge of tears. "It got my ankle and dragged me down. I took it's head off and figured everything was fine. Until I was washing up last night and noticed it: The bite."

Hanna pulled her knife all the way out of her belt and nodded to Emily and Aria. They'd come up with a plan on what to do if one of them were infected. Get visual proof of the bite, first thing. Next, ask what the victim wanted. Then, comply.

If the victim wanted their brains blown out... Do it without hesitation.

There was also the option of being locked in the musty, empty basement-like room they'd reinforced for just this occasion.

And after those steps were taken: mourn the victim.

Aria shuddered. The victim was such an impersonal term, but Spencer had insisted that it had to be impersonal or everyone would die if no one could pull the trigger. Killing a best friend was no easy task. So filing away all the memories, facts, and thoughts about them and seeing them as nothing but an empty shell was the only option.

That meant Hanna, Emily, or even Aria—if Spencer wanted—had to bury the images of their friend with her thousand-watt smile and calculating chocolate eyes, and take the life of some anonymous creature that couldn't ever be Spencer Hastings again.

"Show us the bite, Spencer," said Hanna, softly. Her once sparkling, sapphire eyes had flushed to a dull gunmetal, and she was strangely calm.

Spencer squeezed her eyes shut and let out a strangled sob, but complied. They all watched with bated breath as she removed her heavy khaki jacket and worn long-sleeve shirt, then lifted her tank top to show the bandage on her right side, where sickly purple veins webbed out across her torso.

She'd seen bites before, saw zombies' guts spilled and blood sprayed, watched familiar residents of Rosewood torn to pieces, but the sight of the wound made Aria feel lightheaded and sick. This was her best friend.

Aria felt tears threaten to spill over as she heard Hanna robotically choke out the next line. "Now what do you want?"

The brunette scanned the room until she found Aria, the smaller girl standing with her baseball bat held limp in her hand and tears brimming her eyes. "What do you think, Ar?"

It was all Aria could do not to break into sobs.

"Spencer, I can't…" she cut herself off, realising her voice was wobbly. She cleared her throat and tried again. "I don't think I can watch you die."

Emily's hand squeezed Aria's shoulder and the former swimmer smiled ruefully. "There's option B… but we'd have to listen to her turn." A familiar line formed between her eyebrows and her face became hard. "I don't know what that would do to everyone's sanity, though."

Em was right. Aria didn't think she could handle listening to her friend turn feral any more than she could handle watching their other friends kill her. And Spencer would only suffer further if they didn't end it here and now.

Aria took a long look around the room, seeing Emily's concerned, weary face, watching Hanna try to calm her breathing, and finally looking to Spencer, who now sat patiently on the floor, tears running down her cheeks as she resigned herself to death. And Aria knew what she had to do.

She steeled herself.

"I'll take care of it, Hanna," said Aria. Her voice sounded nothing like the old Aria Montgomery's. It was colder, resolute. "I want to be with her while we wait, but give me a gun so I can end it as soon as I see she's not herself."

By the time Emily and Hanna had said their goodbyes and helped Aria carry a petrified Spencer to the reinforced basement, their friend was already unnaturally pale and shaking like a leaf, purple veins crawling up her neck. Spencer didn't resist as they sat her down in a chair against the concrete wall and secured her to it with thick rope. She seemed relieved, in fact, when she tested the bonds and found she couldn't move an inch.

Aria felt a twinge of guilt, but Hanna, Emily, even Spencer herself had insisted on taking precautions to make sure Aria didn't get hurt. Those precautions included rendering Spencer immobile in case she turned into a ravenous lunatic quicker than they anticipated.

They also included the six shiny bullets loaded into the revolver Hanna had passed along. Five were there just in case, but Aria knew she'd have to use at least one at some point.

Aria closed the room's heavy door and pulled the chain hanging from the ceiling to illuminate the cramped space with yellow light. Then she sunk into her own chair placed a couple yards in front of Spencer, tightened her grip on the revolver, and waited.

Spencer looked at her, a slight smile on her lips. Her eyes were a strange caramel color, instead of their usual dark brown, and they were becoming increasingly bloodshot. "I'm sorry it had to end this way, little big one."

"What?" Aria felt her throat start to close at the familiar nickname, but pushed down the wave of memories that came with it.

"You're little but you're big," Spencer refrained. "Remember?"

Aria nodded. She remembered perfectly well. But it seemed odd hearing the term after everything that had happened. Their friends and loved ones were dead or missing and Spencer had been bitten, but the infected brunette looked so calm all of a sudden. She seemed to have accepted that Aria was going to have to kill her eventually.

"I'm glad it's you," said the taller girl, swaying slightly, her voice a murmur. "We've always been a team. Seems fitting." She smiled, a haze spreading over her caramel eyes and making them darker. "Sparia till the end. We'll always be friends… until we grow old. We'll travel all around Europe together after college. I'll tell you first when Toby proposes and you can be my maid of honor. And I'll be your maid of honor, if you want. Then our kids can be friends. Maybe they'll dump us in the same nursing home and we can play checkers..."

"Yeah, Spence. Forever. That sounds great." Maybe her best friend wasn't resigned so much as delirious. The virus was edging into her brain. "Sparia until the end."

Spencer blinked, eyes following something that wasn't there. "Aria? I feel so… weird."

The tiny brunette pulled the hammer back on the revolver and stood up, taking a step forward to plant a kiss on Spencer's forehead.

Spencer grinned, her pearly teeth gleaming. "What was that for?"

Aria stepped back, her chest aching like her heart was being crushed by a steel glove. Breathe, she reminded herself. It will be over in seconds.

She remembered what Spencer said about making it impersonal and knew that wouldn't be an issue as she watched Spencer's smile fall and her odd caramel irises turn black in a matter of minutes. Something snapped in Spencer's expression and the muscles in her neck tightened, and Aria knew she was dealing with basically a corpse now. A low growl escaped her former friend's throat, followed by an inhuman whine.

This wasn't Spencer Hastings anymore.

The infected's lip pulled back in a snarl, revealing those same white teeth that had smiled so lovingly at her a few moments ago, and it writhed against the ropes, ready and willing to rip out Aria's throat.

Aria looked past the shadowy remnants of her best friend—the chestnut hair she'd styled countless of times, the eyes that crinkled every time they laughed at some dumb joke she'd told, the mouth that had smacked irritating kisses on her cheeks and constantly spewed sarcasm, the arms that had held her together and offered reassurance in some of her darkest moments—and she aimed the revolver at the spot that she'd kissed, sucking in an unsteady breath.

Goodbye, Spencer.

Aria breathed out and let her trigger finger flex.