An Uncomfortably High Number of Twilights
Spike had a feeling. Not a particularly good feeling, either. Far from it, actually. It was a feeling akin to worry, concern, and a tiny hint of dread all wrapped up in a nice, large ball of paranoid anticipation. It was a feeling that he was familiar with; something of a sixth sense that he developed after living with Twilight for so long.
Every so often, as he went to bed, Spike would experience something of a chill that rode up and down his spine. It was never anything that disrupted his usual sleeping pattern; in fact, he usually dismissed it as some sort of draft at first. But whenever he experienced that chill, the very next day, something would happen. Whether it was an invasion of fun-addicted Pinkies, an invasion of love-sucking changelings, or even just a particularly taxing day for his favorite purple pal, his chill always preceded it, and without fail at that.
It reached a point that whenever he felt that chill, he’d spend the majority of the following day trying to figure out what the next ‘something’ would be, despite it usually being stupidly easy to spot.
In this particular instance, as he cracked open his eyes after another night of foreshadowing, that familiar feeling of anxiety bubbling in his gut, it took him virtually no time at all to figure out what that day’s ‘something’ was.
He woke up in a giant, sterilized bubble. Honestly, he’d be lying if he said that he was surprised.
“Oh, for the love of Pete,” Spike sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. Even if the surrounding bubble wasn’t a shimmering lavender, it wouldn’t have been too much of a stretch to figure out who was responsible. Though he had an odd way of predicting things like this, he could do little more than roll with the punches once he found himself caught in the middle of it. At least this time, things started off with a bang. Didn’t make things any less annoying though.
As if on cue, the mare responsible for the interesting start to Spike’s day strode into the bedroom. Setting eyes on the mare, Spike could do little more than sigh as a hand found its way to his face. Just when he so foolishly thought that his morning couldn’t get any weirder.
Twilight trotted into her bedroom completely covered from head to hoof in a lavender hazmat suit, a wet rag and a spray bottle floating by her side. Again, Spike’d be lying if he said he was surprised.
Though Twilight was literally right next to the giant glowing bubble that contained him, she didn’t seem to even acknowledge his existence. Not so much as a ‘Hello’ or ‘Good morning’. She just walked right on by. Now that took Spike by surprised. As weird as things could get, Spike had to admit that that was a bit odd.
“Uh, Twilight?” he called. Twilight didn’t even glance back at him. Instead, she approached one of her bedside bookshelves, spraying a shelf down before vigorously wiping it. Curious eyebrow raised, Spike slowly approached the barrier separating the two. He knocked on it, sending ripples throughout the entire bubble. “Twilight!” he called again, receiving the same result. Was that blasted bubble soundproof as well? Why in the world would Twilight do that?
As Twilight continued her apparently life-saving task of cleaning that bookshelf, a visibly annoyed Spike loudly coughed into his fist, another attempt to capture the mare’s attention. At that moment, he realized two important things. One, the bubble that contained was him most certainly not soundproof; Twilight was just ignoring him for whatever reason. Two, coughing into his hand was apparently on par with high treason, because the glare that he received from his friend was nothing short of fierce, fiery, and oh so terrifying.
“Spike!” Twilight snapped. Before the young dragon could even offer a hopelessly confused protest, he found himself yanked up into the air by his hand, dangling from Twilight’s magical grip. In the same instance, her spray bottle and rag shot inside of the bubble. “Do you have any idea how many germs you just put on your hand?” she chided, promptly correcting Spike’s severe error.
Spike couldn’t say that he was paying attention to the question; he was far too distracted by Twilight’s intensely vigorous cleaning. For an agonizingly long few minutes, he dangled there as Twilight sprayed, wiped, resprayed, and rewiped his hand with a passion that he had never seen before. Either his hand would be shining like diamonds afterwards, or his hand would simply be gone. Thankfully, it proved to be the former once Twilight’s cleaning finally ceased, dropping Spike to the floor.
“Don’t do that again!” Twilight ordered.
As Spike rubbed his hand, promptly rubbed raw, but clean, he didn’t even entertain the thought. That still didn’t explain Twilight’s rather… eccentric behavior, and unfortunately, Twilight didn’t seem to be in the best of conditions to give answers. Spike didn’t know what had exactly gotten Twilight to start acting like that, though he could make a few educated guesses. It didn’t really take much to throw Twilight into ‘that’ mood. The one where she got the odd tick in her eye and the maniacal smile, that expression that grew to haunt Spike's nightmares.
“Um, what’s with the bubble?” Spike asked, finally addressing one of the many elephants in the room. By some otherworldly miracle, he managed to catch Twilight’s attention before the enticing sight of books and mahogany could entrap her again.
“That’s the cleanest place in the house for you,” she quickly answered, turning towards a particularly light layer of dust on the wall in front of her. “Goodness, I’ve never noticed just how dirty this place is. I thought you cleaned it every day!”
Spike’s mouth hung open for a surprisingly long couple of seconds as he searched for a way to properly respond to the insuation. “I… do,” he slowly said.
“Well, it’s not good enough!”
Once again, Spike pinched the bridge of his nose as a light throbbing bumped in the back of his head. Was it a headache? It felt like a headache. Okay, so Twilight suddenly became a super-germaphobe. That’d explain the hazmat suit as well, he supposed. Still didn’t make things any less annoying. “Just roll with it,” he mumbled to himself. It was only a matter of time before things were finally sorted out. As much as he wanted to worry about Twilight, he had things of his own to worry about. The loud growling coming from his stomach was a clear reminder of that.
“Twilight,” he called again.
Twilight didn’t lift her eyes from her work for a single second. “Hmm?”
“Can you let me out of this stupid bubble so that I can eat?”
That, evidently, managed to snap Twilight out of her little germaphobic episode, if only so that she could ponder the question. “Hmm. Okay. But only if you wear this.” In a flash of magic, Twilight brought a miniature hazmat suit, perfectly sized for Spike, right up to the young dragon’s face.
That pained throbbing returned to the back of his skull. It was a headache. Definitely a headache. “Just roll with it,” Spike repeated, attempting to keep his composure.
Heaving an annoyed sigh, he took the suit out of Twilight’s magical grip. Slipping it on, he lazily glanced towards the calendar pinned to the wall next to his bed. With all of the crazy happenings that he had to endure for the past few years now, there was something of a pattern that he noticed. He merely wanted to know if today just so happened to fit in with that pattern. It was the fourteenth. In other words…
“Yep, it’s Tuesday.”
A soft, relieved sigh passed through Fluttershy’s muzzle as the yellow pegasus laid out a generous pile of bird seeds for her chickens. As the fowls swarmed the pile, all of them getting enough for a hearty lunch, the mare glided out of the chicken coop.
Equestria’s late morning sun shone through the trees surrounding her cottage, basking the surrounding land in a golden glow. Fluttershy took in a deep breath, savoring the natural aroma as she enjoyed the warm rays against her face. Something about today just felt so calming, and she just couldn’t place her hoof on it. It couldn’t have been the scenery around her. Beautiful as it was, it was a sight that she had the privilege of seeing nearly every day. Perhaps it was the uncharacteristic silence. Yes, it had been unusually quiet for quite some time; normally she’d be enjoying the melodies that the forest’s inhabitants always put together, but that wasn’t the case today. The babbling brook and rustling trees were the only things staving off complete silence.
A concerned hoof placed itself on her chin. “Hmm. Maybe they’re all off on errands.” It did make sense. After all, they did have families to care for. “Oh! That reminds me,” she spouted, perking right back up. “I should check on Mr. and Mrs. Swallow. I wonder how they’re babies are doing.” Though she was certain that those two were more than in control, Fluttershy still felt obligated to check on them every so often, just to ensure that things were alright.
As she walked into the forest, she still couldn’t help but notice just how quiet it was. Aside from the crunching of gravel and twigs beneath her hooves and the very faint running creek, it was silent. After having grown so used to the ambient sounds of the forest, the sudden lack of noise was starting to grow unnerving. Fluttershy couldn’t help but shrink closer and closer towards the ground as she continued down the familiar forest path.
Yes, she had always felt a bit on edge whenever she entered the Everfree, but she had long since known that the real dangers were far deeper in the forest than she’d ever be willing to go alone. She shouldn’t have been so nervous considering how many times she entered it, but again… the silence. What had been so calming before was quickly changing into a source of anxiety.
“I hope the animals are okay,” she muttered, nervous eyes glancing about the forest floor and trees. No sign of any animals. Fluttershy didn’t know if that was a bad thing or not. Her ‘they’re doing errands’ theory was slowly but surely starting to crumble. Even if the parents were gone, surely the babies should’ve been making some kind of noise.
Soon enough, Fluttershy reached the tree that held the Swallows’ children. Looking up, she could still see the nest jutting out from behind the branch that held it. At least that was untouched; hopefully the babies were as well.
Fluttershy slowly flew up to the nest, careful not to catch the young ones by surprise. When she did reach it, she breathed a sigh of relief upon seeing the babies, perfectly unharmed. That relief quickly gave way to confusion when she also saw the parents right there with them. Not that was a bad thing, of course not, but it was strange. None of them, not even the babies, made a single sound, not even in greeting. They simply looked up at Fluttershy with painfully forced smiles.
Fluttershy raised a single, confused eyebrow as she fluttered closer towards the family. “Is everything okay? You’re awfully quiet. All of the animals are. Has something happened?”
Mr. Swallow gulped down a lump in his throat before glancing towards his partner, her nervous gaze matching his own. He gestured for Fluttershy to come closer, the yellow pegasus doing just that. He leant in as well, and at a volume that rivaled Fluttershy’s own soft tone, chirped his woes into her ear.
As she listened, Fluttershy’s eyes widened in equal parts confusion and worry. “What? You’re not allowed to make any noise? Why not?”
Again, Mr. Swallow gulped down a lump. After a reassuring pat from his partner, he breathed a heavy, high-pitched sigh. With much in the way of hesitation, he took in a deep breath and let out a series of chirps. Or rather, he tried to. The instant that the first high-pitched chirp left his beak, Fluttershy learned exactly what the problem was.
“I SAID BE QUIET!!”
The entire forest trembled and quaked as the booming voice echoed through the trees, ripping to shreds whatever silence that had been lingering in the air. Only during those few short seconds of chaos did the forest critters dare move, scattering through the forest if only to get away from the maniacal being that the voice belonged to.
Mr. and Mrs. Swallow themselves braced their nest, protecting their little chicks from the trembling bombardment. Thankfully, the next few seconds passed quickly, and the trembling ceased as the forest fell back into dead silence. The birds looked back up, hoping to find Fluttershy, but the pegasus was nowhere to be seen. The only remaining signs of her were a few mere yellow feathers fluttering gently towards the forest floor.
The parents likely would’ve assumed that she took off much like the other forest animals, but they couldn’t help but notice that despite the fact that the shaking had stopped, their tree in particular was still oddly trembly. Looking back at the trunk, they found the very tip of a yellow wing poking out from behind it. After heaving another sigh, Mr. Swallow quickly flew behind the tree to find a simply petrified Fluttershy clinging to the bark for dear life.
“I can s-s-see what the p-p-problem is,” she said through chattering teeth. Slow as the process was, she did finally start to calm down. She released her death grip on the tree and made her way back around to the nest. “That’s what’s been bothering you this whole time?” she asked at a notably lower tone, though her normal speaking voice already wasn’t loud enough to provoke the beast.
The Swallows nodded.
“Oh, my. That’s no good.” Fluttershy prodded her chin with a hoof as she pondered on something. Something that bothered her. “It’s strange though. I know that voice sounds familiar, but… No. It couldn’t be, could it?” Fluttershy looked back at the family. “Um, you all stay here, okay? I’ll go and…” Fluttershy gulped down a lump of her own as she considered the consequences behind her words. “…see who that is.”
Mr. Swallow breathed a relieved sigh before chirping a quick ‘Thank you’.
“QUIET!!”
And back behind the tree Fluttershy went. “I’ll get to it eventually! I promise!”
As… wonderfully reassuring as that sounded, the Swallows still could not keep their wings from making contact with their faces.
Perhaps things would be a bit harder than Fluttershy thought. “Oh, dear.”
“Oh, boy. What’s done happened this time?”
After spending so much time with Twilight, Applejack had grown to believe that was used to most of anything that the alicorn could dish out. It was only an inevitable side effect of being around somepony as… incident-prone as her. Though there was still the occasional curve ball, most incidents that others would find ‘weird’ or ‘unusual’, Applejack just found ‘par for the course’. Finding a terribly nervous and trembling alicorn within the depths of her orchard undoubtedly fell into the third category.
Applejack already knew of Twilight’s tendencies to go through the occasional mental meltdown, though it was definitely a rarity to see the alicorn bring those breakdowns outside of the library. From the looks of things, something bad happened, though Applejack had no clue what it could’ve been.
Slowly, she approached the still mare, cautious as not to catch her by surprise. “Uh, Twil—”
Applejack couldn’t even get her name out before the alicorn shot straight up into the air, propelled by nothing more than sheer shock. Before the farm mare could even properly react, Twilight bolted behind the nearest tree.
“Whoa! Whoa! Easy there, Twi.” And with that rather explosive reaction, Applejack’s suspicions were confirmed. Something was wrong in a big way, not that there was much room for doubt in the first place. “Calm down, it’s just me.”
The terrified mare slowly poked her head out from behind her protective tree. “Oh, Applejack. You startled me.”
Applejack couldn’t help but raise a curious eyebrow as she closed in on Twilight. She was definitely much more… timid than usual. Even her tone had a shier tone to it. Applejack chuckled. “That’s a mighty fine Fluttershy impression ya got goin’ on,” she joked.
Instead of the laugh that Applejack expected, Twilight only looked away as her cheeks flushed crimson. “Oh, I’m copying Fluttershy? I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to.”
Applejack’s light-hearted smile quickly twisted back into that worried frown. “N-no, Ah wasn’t tryin’ t’ talk ya down. Ah just—”
“Oh, sorry. I didn’t mean to make you feel that way.”
“Y-you didn’t. Now quit apologizin’ an’ just lemme—”
“I’m apologizing too much? Um, sorry. Oops! Uh, sorry for apologizing. Wait, shoot! I-I mean…”
As Twilight rattled on, digging herself deeper into a hole that Applejack didn’t even know existed, the farm mare just planted a hoof on her forehead. Something was definitely wrong with the picture here, though Applejack started thinking that it might not have been as dire as she initially believed, not that thinking was an easy thing to do at the moment. There were the beginning pains of a headache emanating from the very back of her head, and it was going to be a big one if she didn’t get back on topic within the next five seconds. “Oh, for the love of—Twilight!”
A small ‘eep’ escaped the alicorn’s mouth as she froze to attention.
Applejack, rubbing her temple to quell the incoming migraine, released a deep, slightly calming sigh. “Let’s calm down for a minute, alright? C’mon now. Breathe with me.” Applejack took in a nice, long, deep breath, Twilight following suit. She released that breath, getting rid of most of the agitation that had built up within the past few minutes. Her mouth curved into a soft smile as Twilight did the same. “There. Better, right?”
Though visibly less tense, Twilight still fidgeted with her hooves like an embarrassed filly. All things considered, that was likely as good as things were going to get. “Um, yes.”
“Good. Now, why don’t ya tell me what you’re doin’ out here? Why ain’t ya back at the library?” In Applejack’s eyes, that was a fairly straightforward question. In fact, she was confident that others would wholeheartedly agree that there could be little in the way of misinterpretation or implied animosity.
But! Evidently, Applejack either still managed to find a way to lay it on too hard for the oddly timid alicorn, or said timid alicorn was so petrifyingly terrified of the mere aspect of answering a question that it took her several arduous minutes of shuffling and hoof-fidgeting just to get the first ‘um’ out.
Luckily for her, Applejack was one of her more patient friends, especially when compared to the likes of Rainbow Dash or Pinkie Pie. Celestia help her soul if she were to ever come across those two while in that state, but that was beside the point. The farm mare was perfectly willing to give Twilight the time she needed to answer. As a big sister, she grew to learn that pressing the timid made very little progress in the best of times, and completely shut them off at the worst.
So Applejack waited.
And waited.
And… waited.
Seldom was a silence so long and so awkward.
Some five minutes ticked by before Twilight finally—finally—cleared her throat. “Well…”
Applejack, who had started to take some serious interest in the magnificent wonders of dirt, snapped right out of her little stupor as the alicorn’s words reached her ears. “Huh? Wha?”
“I left the library this morning so that I wouldn’t get on my nerves.”
Applejack, almost instinctively, nodded in understanding. “Right, right.” Then the words actually registered. “Wait, what?”
Her confusion didn’t go unnoticed. Twilight grew tenser, her eyes darting back and forth. “Well, I… I was really obsessed with keeping the library clean, and I guess I was too dirty. So, I told me to get out. So, I decided to come here.”
Words could not describe the confusion racing through Applejack’s mind. Actually, one or two probably could. ‘Hopelessly lost’ felt like a good start. The gears cranking in her head were practically smoking with exertion as she tried to piece together what she just heard. “Hold on, hold on. Lemme try to get this straight.” And Celestia knew that she was going to try. “You were tryin’ t’ keep the library clean, so… you told you to get out so that you could clean the library.”
Twilight herself seemed confused about what Applejack just said, and she was the one who went through it. One could only imagine what Applejack’s poor brain was going through. “Um… Yes, that’s about right.”
Once. Twice. Applejack blinked three times, each one bringing her closer and closer to the sense of indifference that she generally required to deal with situations like this. Finally, her face fell flat as a board. “Twilight, do you smoke at all?”
“What? Oh, no!” Twilight answered, seemingly offended by the question. “I’ve never touched a cigarette before in my life!”
Applejack’s face showed little in the way of reaction. “That ain’t what Ah mean.” She quickly shook her head, focusing her attention back on the subject at hoof. She’d have to deal with Twilight’s possible narcotics problem later. “Look, let’s just get you back home, okay?”
Twilight wished that she was behind the idea, but the hesitation, unfortunately, proved too strong. “Oh, um, I don’t know if that’s such a—” Also unfortunately for her, Applejack asking her the question at all was more of a formality than anything else. The alicorn couldn’t even get a word in edgewise before she felt herself getting pushed along the ground by a highly confused, somewhat agitated farm mare. “Um, really, Applejack. I don’t know if I’d like that. I’m really, really busy cleaning.”
“Forget you!” Applejack snapped. “This ain’t about you. It’s about you! Or, uh, the you that’s here, not the you back at the library.” She winced as that headache came back to bother her. It was far, far too early in the week for this kind of nonsense.
Though Applejack herself couldn’t see it, what, with the purple cargo she had to deliver, Twilight placed a contemplative hoof on her chin. “What about all the other me’s?” she asked. “We don’t want to forget about them, right?”
Applejack stopped dead in her tracks. “All the other… Oh, for Pete’s sake!”
Rainbow Dash was a happy mare and not a single thing was going to change that. There was just something about those clear, virtually cloudless days that simply brought a big, dumb smile to her face. Was it the deep, blue sky, always in plain sight? Was it the shining sun spreading its warmth and golden light across the entire land? Well, those were certainly nice bonuses, but neither were the reason that Rainbow had in mind. No, Rainbow loved these clear days for one, simple reason: nearly non-existent workload.
Rainbow yawned, stretching out across her cozy cloud. Yes sir, with no storms or overcast planned in Ponyville, Rainbow’s day, for the most part, consisted of just ensuring that the number of clouds didn’t get too out of hoof, not that that was even remotely difficult. Yep, Rainbow was, for all intents and purposes, a very happy pony.
Snip, snip.
Nothing beat an easy day at work like a nice, relaxing nap.
Snip, snip, snip.
As far as she was concerned, nothing could put a damper on her day. It was absolutely perfect.
Snip.
Rainbow’s face scrunched up into an annoyed frown. Her perfect nap was getting disrupted by a sudden draft, unusual since she rarely ever had problems with that before, even on windy days. Even more unusual, she really only felt the chill near the top of her head. She snorted. Probably just needed some extra clouds up there.
As Rainbow reached up to rearrange her cloud, her leg brushed the top of her head. Her eyes shot right open.
“What the…?” Sitting up in her cloud, she patted the top of her head, only to have an icy sense of dread pierce right through her heart.
She had a bald spot. A very big bald spot. Right at the top of her head, as though a large clump of her mane decided that it was sick of the constraints placed upon it by nature and merrily divorced itself from Rainbow’s scalp.
Rainbow was not pleased.
“Oh, man! Oh, man! Oh, man!” Thrown into a panic, Rainbow launched herself from her cloud. She peered down towards the ground below, hoping to spot even the smallest strand of multi-colored hair. Try as she might, however, she was unable to spot a single lock of her mane.
“Hmm. Interesting. They don’t seem to possess any special properties.”
Rainbow Dash immediately perked up as the voice reached her ears. Looking up, it did not take her long to find the source. Twilight, along with numerous beakers, vials, and clipboards, hovered in the air. Twilight herself was staring intently into one beaker in particular, one that just so happened to contain Rainbow’s missing mane.
“Twilight!” Rainbow snapped. “What the hay is wrong with you?”
Despite her very loud, very clear demands, Rainbow’s words seemed to fall on deaf ears as Twilight didn’t even glance in her general direction. She simply hummed and hawed as she scribbled down notes on her clipboard. Either the alicorn was far too absorbed in her work to respond to any stimuli outside of her workspace, or she simply ignored the pegasus. Both scenarios annoyed Rainbow equally as much.
Rainbow Dash, deciding that mere words wouldn’t be enough, flew right up to Twilight, leaving little more than a foot of space between them. “Twilight! Hey!” She went to grab for the beaker containing her hair, only for the beaker to be snatched just out of her reach.
Before the pegasus could even react, Twilight turned towards her. “Rainbow, tell me. Is that your natural color?”
The question came out so quickly that Rainbow just barely registered it. That didn’t necessarily mean that she had an answer, she just heard the question, a question that made her twist her face into a confused frown. “What?”
Twilight pointed her quill towards Rainbow's mane, or what was left of it, rather. “Your mane. Is that its natural color?”
Rainbow looked up at her mane. Then back down at Twilight. Then back up at her mane again. “Um… yeah?”
As soon as the words left her lips, Twilight scribbled more notes on her clipboard. “Subject claims it is natural,” she muttered.
“Um, Twi? What’re you—?”
“Are you certain it isn’t the result of some type of chemical or drug that you’ve been exposed to as a filly?”
Rainbow Dash could only blink, and blink she did, her face the pinnacle of surprise and confusion.
Twilight suddenly grew a bit too close for Rainbow’s comfort, her eyes narrowing into a scrutinizing gaze. “Hmm.” Without moving a single muscle, without even breaking eye contact, she scribbled down more notes. “Subject remains silent,” she muttered. “Will press further.”
Rainbow raised a single hoof to object. “Um, you know that I can hear—”
“Do you know why your mane is the way it is?” Twilight interjected.
Rainbow immediately shook her head, both as an answer and as a way to get her mind back on the important things, like the fact that she was suddenly balding. “Look, I don’t know what’s gotten into you, but just gimme my mane back!”
Twilight raised a confused eyebrow as though Rainbow was the one making outlandish requests. “Why?” she asked. “It’s not like you can put it back on. Besides, these are important items for my research.”
“Research for what?” Rainbow asked, far past the point of exasperation. “Why my mane is rainbow? Why do you even care all of a sudden?”
Twilight scratched the top of her completely covered head with her quill as she pondered on the question. “Well, I’ve always been curious, and now I’m conducting some actual research. This isn’t exactly a common thing, you know? In fact, the genetic make-up that made it that way may even be a bit closer to Celestia’s than most. Wouldn’t that be an interesting thing to discover?”
Rainbow couldn’t have shaken her head any harder if she tried. “No! Besides, if you want to find that out, you’re gonna need more than my mane to do it!”
While Rainbow’s clear agitation didn’t seem to register to Twilight, her words certainly did. The alicorn took a moment to consider that statement, rubbing her chin as she pondered. “Hmm. You may be right. If I want to really crack this, then I’ll need something more concrete to go along with the hair.”
“Uh… what?”
Twilight took a moment to dig around in her saddlebags. “Now where did I put it?”
Rainbow, very tentatively, fluttered closer towards the mare. “Twilight? What’re you—?”
“Ah-ha!” With a triumphant smile on her face, Twilight pulled out a very shiny, very clean, very pointy syringe from her bags. With that same smile, bordering a bit on deranged, she looked back at Rainbow Dash. “Don’t worry, this won’t hurt a bit. Just a small blood sample. What do you say?”
Normally, this would be the point where most ponies would slowly back away/run away at full speed, but Rainbow was unlike most ponies. Rainbow did have the expected terrified expression, with the wide, terror-stricken eyes, complete with pinprick pupils, and the gaping mouth. That expression, however, quickly changed as her mouth twisted into a wide, slightly maniacal smile as an equally maniacal laugh escaped her mouth. It was an admittedly hearty laugh, one of amusement, in spite of the situation.
Finally, she calmed herself, wiping away the tears that came as a result from having such a nice laugh. “Heh. Ha, ha. Ah… No.”
Then Rainbow promptly utilized the ‘run away at full speed’ strategy.
“Wait!” Twilight cried, chasing after her. “This is for science!”
Spike was reaching his—No, correction. He had long since passed his breaking point. Normally, when Twilight was going through another one of her ‘episodes’, or if things in general simply grew too weird for his comfort, he’d leave the library for a nice stroll around Ponyville until things sorted themselves out. This strategy of his undoubtedly saved him from all manner of headaches, but it would not work this time, and that was for one simple reason.
“Do not open that door!” Twilight snapped.
“But I’m wearing the stupid suit!” Spike snapped back. “What’s the problem now?”
“Do you have any idea how many germs and unhealthy bacteria are floating around out there? And you want to let them in here?!”
“It doesn’t even… Ugh!” If Spike wasn’t at risk of another painfully vigorous cleaning from the alicorn, he’d have taken his helmet off just so that his hand would have a clear shot to his face. For the moment, he could only settle on bashing his helmet-protected head against the door. Again. Again. And again. Actually, that may have been a bit more relieving than the facepalm.
Regardless, it didn’t take away from the fact that Spike was turned into little more than a POC (Prisoner of Cleanliness). For the past three hours, he could do little more than sit in a corner while Twilight cleaned the library, recleaned the library, and recleaned the recleaning of the library. He couldn’t even read any of the books to keep himself entertained, as Twilight was scared that the pages contained even more of the oh-so life-threatening dust that she breathed in every single day. He was almost positive that her undying love for the things was the only reason why she just didn’t burn them.
Though he did have little in the way of entertainment, there was some fun to be gained from pointing out the occasional speck of dust just to see Twilight’s next terrified, bug-eyed expression. Unfortunately, it didn’t take long before even that grew to be tediously dull. If only he had a way to sneak past her.
Spike suddenly shot up in his seat as an idea clicked in his head. “Man, I’m slow.” Without even bothering to spot one, Spike pointed in a random direction and shouted, “Twi! You missed a spot!”
Twilight, initially keeping herself busy giving her bookshelves another dusting, froze in place. She snapped her head towards Spike. “What?! Where?!”
“Um… Over there! Somewhere,” Spike said, pointing his finger towards some arbitrary direction. The instant that Twilight hopped on the dust that may or may not have been there, Spike slowly, so slowly, crept his way towards the front door. With painstaking care, he reached for the knob. He had at least a few more seconds before Twilight either realized that she was tricked, or finished cleaning whatever dust Spike pointed out. Freedom was so close; he just needed to open the door…
Then Rainbow Dash crashed through the front door. Her timing for these things was truly worthy of envy.
The young dragon was just able to get out of the way as the blue blur crashed into the library, coming to a crashing halt all the way on the other side of the lobby. After picking himself off of the ground, brushing the dust off of himself (Twilight was doomed to have an aneurysm), he turned his attention on the dazed pegasus.
No stranger to the harshness that the cold, hard ground had to offer, Rainbow was quick to shake most of the sense back into herself, though she still needed to take a minute to regain her bearings.
“Oh, man,” she groaned, rubbing her sore, woefully cold head. After just a few seconds, she realized that she was lying on top of something, or rather, somepony. Looking down, Rainbow leapt right back up into the air as she laid eyes on the source of her anxiety as the confusion only amplified. “What the—? But—H-How did you—?” Rainbow Dash looked back and forth between the prone Twilight and the open door as she tried to put together a possible scenario.
“Dust,” Twilight whispered.
“Rainbow!” Spike chided, the annoyance clear in his voice. “I thought you said you were gonna stop crashing into the library.”
“I-I did! I mean, I would’ve, but I’m being chased!”
“Chased? By who?”
Rainbow pointed down at the alicorn. “By Twilight!”
“So. Much. Dust.”
“What?” Spike scratched the top of his helmet. “But that doesn’t make any sense,” he muttered.
“And by the way,” Rainbow said. She motioned towards the admittedly odd getup both Spike and Twilight had going on. “What’s with the, uh, gear?”
Spike immediately pointed towards Twilight. “Twilight spent the entire day throwing a fit over germs. She’s been here all day cleaning up the library.”
“So much work undone.”
It was Rainbow’s turn to be confused. Single eyebrow cocked up, she glanced back down at the still alicorn. “But that… that can’t be right,” she insisted. “I’m being chased by her right now!”
“Oh, Rainbow Dash!” sang an all too familiar voice.
“Eep!” Rainbow’s wings immediately locked up out of sheer shock, and she dropped right down to the floor.
Spike, meanwhile, could only stand there as the confusion already prominent in his mind amplified. “Wait, was that…?”
Answering his question before he even finished asking it, Twilight Sparkle, syringe still floating in her magic, fluttered to a gentle landing right outside of the library. Her eyes seemed to completely skip over the other Twilight in the room, focusing right on Rainbow. “There you are!” she beamed. “I hope you didn’t hurt yourself. Now, sit still.”
Maybe Spike should’ve been more surprised. Maybe he should’ve asked some questions pertaining to the fact that there were two Twilights in the same room, but in all honesty, after seeing all of the things that Twilight was capable, this was fairly tame in comparison. Still trippy, but nothing to completely freak out about. Yet.
“Uh, Twilight?” he called.
The syringe-happy Twilight stopped and looked down at Spike. “Oh, hello, Spike. Cute getup,” she complimented. “Can you do me a favor and hold Rainbow down? She’ll only make things worse if she moves.”
Rainbow frantically scampered all the way to the opposite wall until her back threatened to become one with the plaster. “Uh, Spike? Help!”
Spike still didn’t look away from the new Twilight. “Um, why are you—?”
“What in the hay happened over here?”
Spike, Rainbow, Twilight, and Twilight all turned their attention back towards the front door as a familiar orange mare showed up at the library with a painfully familiar purple alicorn in tow. This new Twilight waved a nervous hoof at the gawking group. “Um, hello. I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”
“Wha-wha-wha,” was all that Rainbow could sputter out in her immense confusion.
“Well…” Applejack began. “You weren’t kiddin’, Twilight.”
“When was I kidding?” the syringe-carrying Twilight asked.
“Not you, Twilight,” Applejack deadpanned. “My Twilight.”
The Twilight standing next to Applejack immediately blushed. “Your Twilight? Oh, my. I didn’t think things were that serious already.”
Applejack snapped her attention back towards the alicorn next to her, her own cheeks flushing red. “What? No, no. I was just, y’know, specifying so that, uh…”
“Oh! Oh! Oh! Hi, guys!”
Applejack, Spike, Rainbow, and the alicorn triplets all turned around to find Pinkie Pie hopping towards them, another Twilight walking right alongside her.
“Another one?” Spike asked, more exhausted than anything else.
If Pinkie saw the same thing that they did, she certainly didn’t let it throw her off of her groove. “Hi, AJ! Hi, Spikey! Hi, Dashie! Hi, Twilight! Hi, Twilight! Hi, Twilight!” The pink mare suddenly stopped in midair as she released a sharp gasp. “Oh, my gosh! I don’t believe it!”
Applejack just sighed. “Believe me, Pinkie. We’re havin’ trouble believin’ it ourselves.”
“Twilight! You have twins?!”
None of the mares uttered a single word, simply stared as Pinkie slowly eased her way back to the ground. Spike, meanwhile, had a few choice words that more or less summed up their current situation rather effectively.
“Yep, it’s Tuesday, alright.”
