Thick Scales

Chapters

Lacking Eloquence
Mistakes at Dawn
Remember the Name

Lacking Eloquence

It was a beautiful day: birds chirped and hopped about, there was hardly a cloud in the sky and, for once, the Cutie Mark Crusaders were quiet.

That said, there was absolutely nothing to do.

No one was awake enough to hold a conversation with him and no one was doing anything worth watching. It was too early for most ponies to be awake and just late enough for the rest of them to be falling asleep; it was that boring, secret part of the morning only Twilight seemed to enjoy.

Still Spike smiled. At least he could nap for a while. Afterward he might even soak up some sun before picking up a few fresh groceries and going home to Twilight. It could just be one of those lazy days where he accomplished nothing and still went home satisfied. Or…

…Or he could visit Rarity.

His smile brightened considerably and, without needing to think about where he was going, he adjusted his course to bring him directly to the home of his dream-mare. He didn't have a plan and, for once, he didn't really need one; once he reached her he would just do anything and everything he could to make Rarity’s day -- and by extension his own -- a wonderful one.

He could go jewel hunting with her, fetch her supplies, make her lunch, compliment her dresses, clean her house, model for her, wash Opalescence...anything just to make her smile.

At her door he paused and ran a claw over fins -- in hopes of straighten them in some significant way -- and then brushed and then brushed his legs free of dirt -- since he would NEVER dare track mud or dirt into Rarity's beautiful home.

‘Alright. Let’s go do this. For Rarity! For us!’ Balling a fist, he moved to knock.

“Get out!” Rarity shrieked the second his claw touched the door.

“What? But I didn't even get to see you!” That was all he wanted! What had he done?

“Out, out, out, out OUT!” Was her response closely followed by a series of crashes, wet splats and thumps from deep within her boutique. Something heavy smashed against a wall. Something heavier smashed through a wall. There was a sound he could only describe as ‘delicate and expensive chimes exploding’ three or four times in a row.

Two ponies loudly giggled as Rarity snarled “Get out and stay out!” in the most feminine and ladylike way possible. The bottom half of the door he had been a moment from knocking on burst open and smacked him away, moved by Rarity’s distinctive magic and not a moment later Pinkie Pie jump-kicked the higher half of the door open.

Still giggling she cleared the door and kept running, balancing on her front limbs with her hind legs sticking straight up into the air. Atop her left leg were two freshly baked pies stacked one on top of the other. On the right leg she carried two plates that, simply put, smelled like breakfast. Pinkie pie shot him a grin, made a quick left turn and continued running; just as she did a bolt of fabric shot through where she had just been, thudding solidly against the ground at his feet.

“Go Pinkie, go!” Sweetie Belle’s voice shouted from within a mess of fluffy pink mane.

Somehow Pinkie kept her balance and hauled flank down the street, dripping a steady trail of blue goo as she went; the question of where the blue goo was coming from, since she seemed absolutely spotless, filled his mind. This curiosity was promptly beaten down by 'It’s Pinkie Pie', the reflexive answer being the only thing keeping him from going insane trying to figure her out.

“Hi Spike! Bye Spike!” She called out as she disappeared behind a building.

“You had better run, Pinkie Pie! I will end you for this!” Rarity bellowed as she slid out of the door, her legs and body covered in viscous blue ooze suspiciously similar to the droplets Pinkie left behind. Half-crazed, she looked to the left and right, up and down in hopes of spotting the pink mare who had wronged her.

With no Pinkie Pies in sight Rarity released an exhausted sigh and collapsed onto the bolt of fabric defeated.

“Umm…hi Rarity.” She gave a start at his voice and turned, wide eyed, to face him. He waved, smiling shyly. For a few seconds she stared at and through him, her mind miles away, before she looked down at herself; her mane was splattered and clumped and knotted, half obscuring random blue splotches on her coat. What little of her that wasn't stained blue was still bristling up in ire. Her flank was covered by a half chewed wad of gum, the goo stretched to cover both her left and right Cutie Mark.

And still she was the most wonderful being he had ever seen.

'I have to tell her that she looks amazing. I have to say something. Anything.' “Uh...Blueberry jam looks good on you?” With another shriek she dashed back inside, the doors magically slamming shut behind her.

“Rarity? Are you ok? Rarity?!” He wanted to pound on the door until she answered or to just rip it open and go to her…but that probably wouldn't be proper behavior for a gentlestallion. Or a gentledragon for that matter. Still he couldn't just leave her like this.

He stood there with his fist hovering inches from the door, stuck with no workable options in sight, for about twenty minutes before Applejack happened to pass by.

“G’mornin'! How ya doin’, lil guy?” He had no words to answer her with. “Oh, come on; can’t be that bad, whatever it is. What happened?”

“Pinkie Pie. Rarity.” That was all he could say. Applejack’s eyes wandered down to the vibrant trail of blueberry drippings Pinkie had left behind, to the bolt of fabric still on the ground and finally to the boutique.

“Ah see. Well, ah’d best take care of this; Rarity won’t like it none, but she’ll be happier with me seeing whatever Pinkie did than some colt.” She looked back over to him. “Uh…or some lil’ dragon. You know what ah mean.” He did, thankfully, though he didn't like it.

“Alright, Applejack. Anything I can do to help?” Applejack gave the door-handle a yank; a shimmering, light blue aura of magic pulsed out from it, keeping the door sealed. Thoughtfully, Applejack pulled harder; the door moved a little, but that same aura immediately snapped the door back into place.

“Don’t you worry; Ah’ll have everything right as rain in a jiffy. After all, she can’t keep this up forever!” She shouted the last part towards the upper windows of the building. He didn’t want to correct her, but it really was possible for unicorns to enchant objects with spells that could last centuries. The theory of it was actually pretty simple if he remembered Twilight’s notes right.

He stood there feeling useless as Applejack grappled with the door for a few minutes, the only sound between them being her growls and the straining of wood. Applejack even tried ramming the door to no effect; shrugging the pain away, she spoke again. “This…could take a bit longer than Ah thought though. You mind tellin’ Big Macintosh he’ll need to run the stand today? He should be setting up shop for me right now.”

“Sure, I could do that.” 'Wait, you don’t want to sound like you’ve given up on helping Rarity; what if Applejack says something to her later? Quick, say something else!' “I mean, I’d be glad to help. You know, as thanks. For fixing everything. Y'know; with Rarity.” Perfect.

“Thanks.” Applejack ended the conversation, adjusted her hat and hurled her body against the door again; it buckled inward slightly more than before only to straighten again the moment she moved away. “Ha! Ah knew ya couldn’t keep it up, Rarity!” Spurred on she slammed against the door again.

Leaving Applejack to break down Rarity’s door, Spike made his way through the rest of the much quieter village towards the end ofthe market where the Apple family preferred to set up their stall. Several venders were just putting their fresh wares on display; a florist mare stood proudly by an assortment of delicious looking flowers and Carrot Top had several freshly uprooted vegetables -- namely carrots, although there were a few other foods -- on display. ‘That' looks pretty good. I should pick up something for dinner after this.’

Here Spike found Big Mac, ending his short search before it really got a chance to begin; locating Big Macintosh’s gigantic form was about as hard as convincing Pinkie Pie to throw a party. Just down the street, to Carrot Top’s right, Big Mac towered over his simple wooden stall with several small wooden crates at his side.

“Hey, Big Mac.” Big Mac turned to Spike as the little dragon approached and gave Spike a nod, what passed for a greeting from the hulking stallion. “Applejack is going to be late; we had a…uh…problem, involving Pinkie Pie and Rarity.”

“Ah see. Thanks.” Big Mac stated, turning back to the boxes. That was it. No disappointment, no annoyance…just acceptance. It was actually pretty cool how calm he was about getting no work done today; Twilight would have flipped out in a heartbeat.

Spike was busy commanding his body to walk off when he realized the situation the Apple family was in; they really wouldn’t get anything done today. Big Mac was here instead of running the farm and Applejack was with Rarity -- once again -- instead of running the farm; even when they hired farmhooves the two Apples still took on most of the work at their orchard.

“Say, you need any help around here? I have the day off, so I’m not doing anything…” Spike trailed here, losing his words under Big Mac’s gaze.

“…” Big Mac stared him down. He could almost hear the stallion judging him, thinking 'A little varmint like you running my stand? Ha.'

“…” Spike stared up at the much, much larger being, determined to prove himself in his elder’s eyes.

“Ah reckon so.” Big Mac finally answered, stepping from behind the booth to allow Spike to take his place; standing behind the small counter Spike could barely see the red titan from his very low view behind the very large stall. Big Mac considered this for a moment before selecting a crate of apples from the stack. “Three apples fer four bits, ‘bout twenty bits per box.” With slight twist of his hoof he flicked the wooden container open. “Twelve boxes.”

“So around one hundred and eighty apples, give or take a few?” Big Mac nodded as he emptied the crate. With surprising deftness the workhorse piled the apples into a small pyramid and then slid the box, opening down, to Spike. Climbing up, Spike was somewhat surprised that he could now see and reach over the counter perfectly; either Big Mac was brilliant with quick calculations or he had given command of the stall to a smaller being before.

Big Mac pointed under the counter, “Change from tha small chest, profits inta tha large one. Toss out any bruised apples fer mulch.” Here he pointed at the upturned crate Spike stood on. “Won’t be none, though. Ah’ll be back at three. Thanks fer helpin’ us out.”

“No problem! I won’t let you down.” Big Mac looked him in the eyes for a second, sizing Spike up once again, before nodding. Moving slowly and efficiently he turned and walked away, following the road towards Sweet Apple Acres.

Spike looked expectantly around the market; ponies were just starting their days and they would all undoubtedly stream over to relieve him of the fruits any moment now. He would probably sell out before noon; there had to be a few hundred ponies in the town and who could resist a good apple?

He had barely been waiting five minutes before a dull-green mare wandered up and wordlessly dropped four bits before him. One look at her told Spike she was not a morning mare; her mane was disheveled, feathers on her wings were sticking up at odd angles and her eyes seemed half lidded with sleep. She was exhausted, but so used to that exhaustion that she wouldn't shut down until everything she needed to do was done...probably just a few hours before she would need to wake up again.

Without a sound he removed three apples from the small mound and pushed them over to her; the pegasus nudged the fruits into the top of her already overflowing saddlebag, gave him a weary smile and walked off, ready to not enjoy the rest of her morning.

Spike swept the coins up dropped them into the larger chest. ‘Piece of cake.’ With that he settled in to wait.

And wait.

Time slowed to a crawl as ponies opened their windows one by one, peaking out to check the sky for bad weather. Lazy pegasi like Rainbow Dash made this an absolutely necessary precaution; it was entirely possible for it to rain on what was scheduled to be a sunny day right up until the minute the pegasi’s sky-clearing shift starts. Spike quickly made a game out of guessing which house would have a pony pop up first and what color the pony would be.

Of course the game was about as entertaining as a sappy romance novel, but anything was better than sitting there counting the seconds and wondering how long it would take Applejack to fix whatever Pinkie Pie did to Rarity.

As the first hour of him minding the stall passed he was almost starting to enjoy waiting at the apple stand; sure it wasn't quite as nice as sitting in the shade and napping, but he was being useful AND out of the library for the day. It was looking to be a pretty peaceful day too, not counting anything Pinkie Pie could do.

“Oh Sweet Celestia, I’m late for work!” A stallion threw himself out of a second story window, falling straight towards a couple that paused at his exclamation. Before they could even think that he might hit them the pink stallion’s wings unfurled and e turn his fall into proper flight, his body aimed, aimed straight at Cloudsdale.

Then the floodgates burst as just about every pony in town scrambled to start their day at the same time.

The first few adults to reach him were all basically dragging their half-comatose school-aged foals. Like the mare that preceded them they wasted no time with pleasantries or math, each dropping exact change for their order and taking off the moment he passed their apples to them. The last of their group looked at the one apple Spike had left, shrugged and tossed a five-bit-piece onto the counter before taking the apple, passing it off to his filly and leaving without bothering with change.

Spike had barely opened the chest to put their money away before four ponies surrounded the stall, tapping their hooves against the counter to get his attention.

“Hey, just one seco-” A yellow mare in the middle of the group cut him off.

“I’ll have a Golden Delicious ...uh...or whatever the yellow-green one is called, I guess.” She flicked a five bit piece onto the counter and continued rapping her hooves impatiently. “Make it quick, please.”

‘We aren’t just selling red ones? How do I even find those with all these stupid crates?’ “Sure, let me just-” A grey stallion on the fringe of their group cut him off. Again. What was it with ponies interrupting him today?

“Ya, I’ll have two Granny Smiths? Those are the ones that are good for you, right? Like, gooder than normal ones, I mean?” Spike gave the stallion a blank look.

‘Who taught this dude to speak, a school filly? I mean, really? Who says 'Gooder'?’ “Right, I’m on it.” Pausing only to toss the coins from earlier orders in the proper chest, Spike hopped down to examine the numerous full boxes beside him. They were all identical. That or similar enough for him to not know which held which apples.

Shrugging to himself he pried one crate open only to find it full of a dozen sparkling red apples. ‘Ok then…’

The yellow mare continued tapping, seeming more annoyed the longer he took. “One second, all I’m finding are red apples.” He tried a second crate; when the lid gave it too displayed nothing but polished red apples. As did the next crate and the one after that. “We, uhh…might have a problem here.”

“Come ON.” The yellow mare yelled out. In a quick move she swept up her money. “How hard is it to get me ONE stupid yellow apple? Yellow. Not red. YELLOW. By now your owner HAD to have taught you the colors of the rainbow.” Her companions laughed. “Look, it’s my color. See?” She rose up, planting one front hoof on the counter for support, and pointed to herself with the other, “Apple. My. Color. Even you should understand that.”

By now Spike was working through crates frantically; the eighth, ninth and tenth crates all displayed the same annoying red apples. “Just…just one second. They have to be here somewhere, right?”

“Don’t bother lookin’ Spike.” Applejack’s voice pierced the group making the yellow mare – and everyone near the stall for that matter – jump. Behind the yellow mare and within a small crowd on onlookers stood Applejack, his savior, anger dripping from her body much like the blueberry jam she was nearly covered in. “Even if we DID sell those in the mornin’ ah wouldn’t let a mare like her take one o' mah apples fer all the bits in the world. Ah’d probably buck her clean across Equestria, then let the apple rot just fer spite.”

Applejack walked forward, the yellow mare and her companions moving out of the way as she made her way behind the counter. With just a bit of shuffling Applejack nudged Spike off to the side, took her proper place and stared each of the four troublesome ponies down from behind the stand. “Git, b’fore ah make you git,” she proclaimed. They didn’t stick around long enough to be told again or ask exactly what she had said, assured by her tone that it was a threat she would be happy to make good on.

“Wow.” Spike, several stallions and a few mares whispered. That had been one of the most amazing things he had ever seen. Sure his masculinity had taken a bit of a blow, but nothing could compare to seeing Applejack terrify four ponies with a mean look and about twenty words. “Thanks Applejack. Sorry about letting it get out of claw like that.”

“Naw, thank you for keepin’ an’ eye the stand and showin’ me which ponies need a good kick to the head.” She gave him an affectionate pat on the head, before directing her gaze and voice toward every pony that had watched her scare the mare’s group off. “Now then...Anypony else got a problem with lil’ Spike here?” All of the onlookers shook their heads. Several ponies who just happened to be passing by at that moment shook their head without even hearing what she had said. “Good.” She turned back to Spike “You mind holdin’ the fort a bit longer? Gotta wash all this jam off.” She pondered over her statement briefly before sighing, "Wish it was the first time ah had to say that..."

“No problem Applejack,” he declared. With a smile and a tip of her hat Applejack was off again, leaving a slack jawed crowd in her wake. “So...uh…anypony else want to buy some apples?”

~*~*~
~Spike~
~*~*~

When Applejack returned maybe an hour later she looked more like a pristine portrait of the ideal farm-mare than a living, breathing pony; her coat all but glowed under the midday sun while her mane and tail melded into two arcs of gold, too perfect to actually be made of fur. Once again stallions and mares alike stopped to watch as she walked, drawn to look at her despite nopony pointing out she was passing by.

With all the ceremony of a country mare she plopped her rump down next to Spike, sending bits of dirt up onto her beautiful coat.

“So, how’s business goin’?” She asked. Spike and the stallion he had been retrieving apples for both stared a moment, before they found their wits. Or, as it were, Spike found his wits and the stallion’s marefriend pried her own eyes away from Applejack long enough to give her coltfriend a sharp kick in the leg, bringing him back to reality as she left in a huff.

“Oh come on! You were looking too!” The stallion took off after her before remembering his apples and doubling back. “Thanks.” The stallion muttered as Spike worked the four apples into his saddlebag before bolting again. A few feet away he paused for just a few more seconds to give Applejack an appreciative once over, but within moments he was back to chasing down his -- now rather annoyed -- marefriend.

“Pretty good. Except for whatever that was.” Spike answered. Applejack snorted.

“Weird folks ‘round here, huh? Ya’d think ah ain’t allowed to clean up a lil’ now and then. Ah,” She cleared her throat loudly and adopted a feminine and refined tone, “I am, after all, a mare that enjoys looking her best!” Applejack struck a posh, dramatic stance straight from a Cantorlot play and held it for an admirable two seconds before snorting again, her chuckle barely restrained.

“Rarity, huh?” Applejack answered him by flopping over with laughter, rolling a bit more than necessary to get extra dirt worked into her coat. When her laughing finally died out she rose and shook her whole body sending loose dirt flying everywhere; in the end she was mussed, dusty and dirty, looking like she was just taking a breather between sessions of hard work on her farm. Basically, she was right back to normal.

“Ayup. How we doin’ so far?” They both looked over the counter and to their sides to check for incoming customers, before popping open the large chest; it was filled a little more than halfway. “Not bad.” She gave the empty apple crates beside Spike a quick glance. “That’s about…uhh…”

The numbers came to him automatically. “One hundred, thirty three bits and change; a little more than what we should have since most ponies just round from half bit pieces instead of looking for the right coins or don't wait for their change.” Spike gave the empty boxes beside him a glance and then looked at the two apples that remained on the counter, calculating what he had already sold. “I only sold seventy eight apples, so we’d have one hundred and four bits if they took their change.”

“Ok. Sure.” Applejack looked over the boxes, then the remaining apples and shrugged, accepting his math. “Anyway, ah can take over from here. Got ‘bout an hour ‘fore Big Mac comes back with any store orders --along with those other apples that All Spice was askin' after -- and ah know you probably have other things ta’ do today. Thanks again Spike; ya have no idea how much this helped.”

He moved his crate out of the way as he answered her. “No problem, Applejack. Any time you need help, I’ve got your back.” With a little laugh, she patted his back as he left the stall.

“Ah’m sure ya do, lil’ partner. So, how’s fifty bits for your work today sound?” Spike froze mid step.

“What?” Applejack pulled him back to the stall, popped open the larger chest and emptied it onto the crate he had stood upon.

“Well ah can’t just send you away with nothin’ to show for helpin’ out, can ah? Come on, help me get your bits out a’ the pile.” She gestured towards the coins. “Well, come on now. Get countin’.”

“Wait, I didn’t mean to be paid or anything. I just wanted to help, you know?” Spike made to leave again, slightly faster this time; he manage to clear a good meter away before a rope coiled around him and Applejack literally dragged him back.

“Now ah know ya’ve got good intentions and ah’m glad to see yer not interested in bits, but ah ain’t askin’. Apples don’t take without givin’ back and ah took a decent chunk of yer day today. Count yer bits.”

“Really, I don’t…”Applejack fixed him with a solid glare. “Yes ma'am.” He certainly didn't want the bits -- or really not want bits for that matter --, but anything was better than trying to face down an angry Applejack; he and the yellow mare from earlier both knew this pretty well now.

“Good on ya.” She released him from her lasso as she said this, muffling the first three words. “Ah really do appreciate this though. Say, how’d ya like to run the stand for me every mornin’? Maybe do a bit a’ work on tha’ farm for me now and then?” Spike counted forty bits out the various coins, only for Applejack to nudge more into his share. “Startin’ bonus. So, how’s it sound?”

It actually didn't sound half bad. Twilight certainly didn't need him every day and having pocket change that didn't come from their monthly stipends would be pretty nice. Twilight always spent a few days pouring over the month’s expenditures, chiding him if he went over her appointed budget.

Not that it mattered. Celestia sent them plenty every month to cover any of their expenses and Twilight was raking in full librarian pay whether ponies used the place or not. Considering their room, board and utilities were free their expenses came out to almost nothing despite Twilights financial goals making what they spend seem excessive.

“I guess I could…” Applejack slid more coins over to his share, smiling; his pile had way more than half of what they made that day.

“Great, you’re hired!” She collected the remaining quarter of the day’s profits in the proper chest. “Ah’ll work out a schedule with Twilight, alright?”

“Sure, but…” Applejack shook her head, before cutting him off.

“Won’t take ‘no’ for an answer. No worries, ah know you’re busy helpin’ Twilight and family comes first, but you stopping by to sit at the stall in the morning would really be great; it’s been tough gettin’ anything done since we fired the last vender...” Cool, but not what he was worried about.

“Actually…I can’t carry these bits. I don’t have any bags; I usually just put everything on my tab or have Twilight take it, you know?” She scrutinized him, quickly confirming his claim. “Could you just hold my pay for now?” Under his breath he added “And maybe not give me all those bonuses?” She didn’t seem to notice.

“Well…ah guess.” She presented a hoof and, without hesitation, Spike shook it. “Welcome aboard partner!”

Pinkie’s voice spouted from all around them, startling the two out of their claw-hoof shake. “Ooh, can I work for you too Applejack? Oh, please, please, pleeeease?” After a moment’s pause the mare popped out of the pile of empty apple crates, bouncing circles around Applejack and Spike in her excitement. “I promise I won’t fill any of the trees with candy this time!”

“Pinkie…” Applejack tried following Pinkie for a few seconds, reflexively attempting to talk to the other pony’s face, until common sense kicked in and she gave up. “No Pinkie. Ah AINT gonna let yah coat every apple on tha’ farm with sugar again. Or fill mah fields with ice cream, again. Or use yer crazy glowing ciders mixes, again. Or get ahold of Big Mac a fourth time.” Pinkie’s bounces slowed to a stop.

“Aww…but can I still…?” Applejack stopped Pinkie’s inquiry with a piercing glare. All at once Pinkie melted into a sad little pony puddle before them. “Ok…I understand...” Her pink coloring actually seemed to drain away as she lay there, almost in tears.

Spike couldn't help but feel guilty, despite not having anything to do with the situation; Applejack, who actually had been the cause of Pinkie’s sadness, realized her mistake immediately and nuzzled her friend.

“Sorry sugar. Ya know we all love ya but ah can’t let you run wild up at mah farm when there’s work ta’ be done. Besides ah think Big Mac is still afraid of ya; he's still kinda flinchy, ya know?” Applejack paused to lift Pinkie onto her hooves. “Tell ya what though; our first few barrels of hard cider are all yers this year. Ah’ll even take a day off to drink ‘em with ya; you can use all the glowy colorin' and fizzy stuff ya want.” Pinkie Pie smiled at Applejack’s words. All at once she was a bouncing bundle of pink colored happiness again, dancing in place as if nothing had ever happened.

“Yay! Alright and THIS time I won’t invite Cheerilee so you can bring Big Mac and then Big Mac can bring Caramel and Caramel can get all your other farm friends and we can all drink together and we probably won’t have any more drunken incidents we won’t speak of ever again and I can make all of your favorite drinks and then we can cover ourselves in…“ Pinkie was quickly muffled by one of Applejack’s hooves in her mouth. She didn’t seem to notice, bouncing and swaying, as she mumbled pretty awesome sounding things around the hoof.

“Heh. Gotta make sure you youngin’s don’t hear too much, right?” Applejack put forth, trying desperately to keep Pinkie silenced; Spike listened in as hard as he could despite the disapproving look Applejack gave him.

“-barrage and then we can try to get Big Mac to make out with Caramel and Tombstone again and then…” Pinkie stopped mumbling, finally noticing Applejack’s hoof in her mouth. What she did next Spike had no idea, but Applejack’s look of confusion and then disgust as she yanked her hoof away and flicked Pinkie’s spit off it told him he missed out on something amazing.

“And this time Spike will be there with us! Ooh, thanks for promising to bring him, Applejack! Just imagine it, Spike.” She rose onto her hind legs and tossed a foreleg over his shoulder, holding her other forelimb out before them. “Sapphire shot glasses. Sapphire shot glasses EVERYWHERE!” She swept the unoccupied limb out towards the sky and he could almost see her visions of sapphire glasses filled with alcohol stacked into towers so large they disappeared into the sky. “Ok, I’ll start preparing! This is gonna be great!” With that Pinkie swan dove back into the cluster of empty crates, knocking the pile apart. When the crates settled there was no place for her to possibly hide but still she was gone.

“Wait, what now?” Applejack asked trying to catch up. It took seeing Spike’s huge grin to realize Pinkie had just invited Spike to one of her adult parties; one of her debauch, wild, eventful, Big Mac traumatizing, Rainbow Dash-kinda adult parties. “Horse-apples. Uhh…how old are you?”

“Old enough?” It was a joke, but Applejack certainly didn’t seem to find it funny. “Thirteen. Fourteen in August.” He quickly amended.

Applejack closed her eyes in concentration, probably trying to calculate how many years of prison they would get for letting him drinking underage. “Drinkin’ age is fourteen, right? We'll just barely make' it?” She asked, hopeful.

“It’s fifteen here. Only Stalliongrad, Germane and other HippoGryphian territories have drinking ages at or below fourteen.” Spike grimaced as he answered, facts he had once heard Twilight spew now flowing out of his mouth instead; Applejack was definitely going to stop him from going.

Of course he could have lied or pretended to not remember, but deceiving Applejack didn't feel right, especially if when it came to the law. Besides Applejack was the element of Honesty. She’d probably see through him a mile away.

Ignoring a lone customer that had wandered up mid conversation, Applejack stood there thinking. Reflexively Spike accepted the old, grey stallion’s bits, made change and gave him his apples while Applejack continued to think. The moment the stallion turned to walk away she lowered her head level with Spike’s and stared him in the eye.

“You can keep a secret, right?” She gave him an anxious look as she asked. “‘Cause ah won’t say anythin’ ta Twilight if you don’t.”

His smile was probably plenty of an answer, but Spike still exclaimed, “Thanks Applejack; you’re the best!” Once again she offered a hoof and, disregarding the slight coating of Pinkie slobber and dirt, Spike shook it with glee.

Mistakes at Dawn

That beautiful April day was quickly shaping up to be a wonderful night, the warm spring air incensed with the aroma of roasted fruit and specially prepared vegetables. Around the library the normal bustle of busy townsponies was reduced to the near silence of a calm village evening as most ponies finally retiriedto their homes after long and busy days. Even Peewee was almost behaved, perched -- relatively -- quietly upon Spike’s shoulder and only occasionally fluttering forward to nick a beak-full of Spike’s food as they ate.

For once Twilight did not have a book levitating beside her or even a pile of note cards to review. It was just them, all of Spike little family, eating their fill with no regard for thousands of etiquette rules that high class Canterlot ponies worshiped more than Celestia. Also Owloysius was present, skulking over on his own area of their small round table picking through a bowl of seeds and tiny cubed fruit-bits.

“How is it?” Spike asked before spearing a roasted tomato from his tongue. With a careful flick it was dunked in his bowl and rolled against the thin layer of gem granules amassed there, collecting a dazzling array of mineral dust along its every side.

The stunning way certain facets of amethyst and peridot caught the light as his tongue lifted the tomato from the bowl, each crystal scintillating against the contrast of a half-burned fruit, was unfortunately lost on everyone present as Spike wreathed the treat in his tongue and snapped the whole thing up into his mouth. Lingual mobility restored, he continued speaking as he chewed.

"I couldn't really bring out the full flavor of your stuff without emeralds so I had to guess for a few things," he apologized, trying to keep the tomato remnants in his mouth as he both ate and spoke. If Twilight had any issues, be they with with his manners or the food, she didn't voice them...probably because her muzzle was buried in a bowl of vinegar soaked, flash-broiled beets.

"Tw-eet!" Peewee chimed in, voicing his approval and begging for more treats as slyly as he was able; Spike reflexively sliced a cherry-tomato with a claw and placed it besides Peewee on his shoulder, instantly appeasing the bird with his offering. It wasn't quite one of the cupcakes sitting at the center of the table but Peewee made do with it.

“Mmhm. Mmm hm mm mmm. Is-guud” Twilight answered, refusing to come up even to breath as she worked through a serving that most ponies wouldn't even be able to lift.

'Just as planned.'

It would only be a matter of time before Twilight slowed down, overstuffed to the point of agreeability and then he could spring the whole ‘working for Applejack’ thing on her. Idly crunching into at a raw carrot -- one of the few things he didn't cook as part of the bribe -- Spike awaited the perfect moment to spring his attack.

Opportunity struck when Twilight sluggishly finished what would probably be her last dish of food, her body drooping slightly, her stomach bulging and her ears falling to relaxed positions pointing behind her head; all classic signs of repletion. “You know, I don’t really have much to do around here most...of the...time…” Twilight nodded along with his words right up until her magic finished filling a bowl of candied carrots and brought it before her. The moment the food hit their table her interest in his words vanished; she dove right back into gorging herself, her body still slack, her stomach still bulging and her ears still limp.

‘How is she still eating?! It’s like I don’t feed her! Wait...’ She would forget, wouldn't she? Even after him begging her to remember, it was just the kind of thing that could slip her mind. “You didn't eat lunch, did you?” He accused, glaring across the table at her.

Her ears snapped straight up, then slowly moved back down to a loose and natural position as her eyes peeked up to meet his for the first time since he announced their meal was ready. She knew he had seen that but she also knew that he knew that she knew he had seen that. The complicated charts and plans she was mentally conjuring to get away with her misbehavior may as well have been carved right into their table; he couldn't understand any of it, but at least he knew that she knew that he knew that...

Slowly she removed her muzzle from the bowl and wiped it down with a levitated napkin, her eyes never leaving his. “What makes you say that?” she asked. Spike considered just chastising her but the desire left him almost as quickly as it came.

He had to outsmart her. He needed to win no matter what the expense, if only just this once; how else could he prove himself to her? How else could he stand with pride or earn Twilight's respect? Through what other outlet could he display his progress into adulthood to the most important pony of his life other than Rarity?

Likewise Twilight needed to outsmart him. Invoking Celestia's wrath would shatter her being, bring ruination to a lifetime of prodigal study, crush now cherished bonds between her and those she loved. Even considering the prospect of her misbehavior being discovered could very well be her undoing.

Pony and dragon each settled to look deep into the other's eyes, a deep craving for victory resonating between them. This would be the truest contest of wits a dragon and a pony could possibly hold.

Sensing of the budding distraction, Peewee dove into Spike bowl and set to bathing in the mixture various juices washing over mineral remnants from Spike’s evening snack. Spike and Twilight both noticed -- it would be rather hard not to, what with the baby phoenix chirping and splashing like he had discovered the best thing since diced apples dipped in hot sauce with extra honey -- but they refused to distract themselves from the staring contest to discipline him.

"Hoo?" Owlysius anxiously watched the phoenix as Peewee dunked himself under the juice completely and then breech the surface happier than ever. In fact the only way the baby phoenix could enjoy the situation more would be if he was also receiving the doting affection only an immortal being would have time to provide...or if he had a nice bit of sugary goodness to munch on; a Pinkie Pie cupcake, for example, would be perfect.

With the first option out of reach, it being the only reason he could misbehave in the first place, Peewee set out to fulfill the second with determination that would make any parent would proud.

“Well, you're eating everything I cooked,” Spike stated pointing at the stack of empty dishes beside Twilight with his half-eaten carrot.

“I have a healthy appetite,” Twilight shot back.

Peewee fluttered his drenched wings in the direction of the dessert at the center of the table giving everything within a large area around the bowl a shower to go along with his bath.

"Hoo!"

“That was at least ten bowls, wasn’t it?” Spike asked rhetorically.

Undeterred by the failure of his wet wings, Peewee stretched and jumped until he latched onto the edge of the bowl. With purchase against the smooth surface secured he then vaulted over the edge; he was racing for his sugary goal the moment his drenched body hit the table.

“It was only eight. You made quite a few of my favorites. Besides, how could I resist such wonderful cooking?” Twilight answered without missing a beat.

No one commented as Peewee took a few nibbles out of a soft pink and yellow cupcake before dipping his foot into it. After a few seconds of struggling he tore a generous chunk of it away and, with his prize in tow, hobbled back toward the bowl.

“You haven’t eaten this much since after the last time the world almost ended!”

*Tap* Neither Spike nor Twilight blinked as Peewee pecked at the bowl, trying to lunge up into his cherished bird-bath without releasing the pastry piece held in his foot. He fell quite a good distance short of the goal, ending it with a the sound weighted down with the bird's annoyance.

"HOO!"

*Tap*

A brilliant idea took hold in Twilight; Spike knew every sign of inspiration she had and, even though she tried restraining herself, there was just the slightest hint of a self-satisfied grin under her focused stare. Still it was her turn, so he let her begin a sentence that would almost certainly bring her the victory they both sought. "Actually-"

*Tap* Another failed attempt.

"Actually-"

*Tap* And another failure.

*Tap* And another still. Twilight and Spike came to a simultaneous agreement: getting to watch the spectacle would be well worth putting their debate on hold for just a little while. With the contest of will on pause everyone around the table settled down -- though Spike had to lean to the side a little -- and observed lunge-peck-jump after lunge-peck-jump of their baby phoenix.

*Tap*

*Tap* *Tap*

*Tap* *Scritch-scratch* He almost made it that time.

*Tap*

*TapTap*

*tap*tap*tap*tap*tap*tap*

"Twe~!" With that frustrated yet adorable exclamation Peewee gave up on returning to his bath and instead went to work on his new snack, occasionally flicking his head to random parts of his body so he could strain and drain a feather with his beak.

"Who? Hoo."

"Well then," happy for the distraction -- and the chance to better collect her thoughts -- Twilight levitated the wayward bird off the table, snack and all, placing him onto a freshly conjured towel; Peewee either didn't notice or didn't care, nibbling away with tiny bites that made no visible progress whatsoever. “Speaking of catastrophes, are you trying to fatten me up or do you just want something? Because I am not ordering the new edition of that My Proud Humans comic book for you if that’s what you’re after. Comics are barely worth reading without all of that ‘human’ nonsense.”

Spike did his best to not to show disappointment; Julius Caesar and Mark Anthony were only a comic or two away from challenging Pompey for his throne and Mark’s fights where always so cool…but no. He was obligated to help Applejack even if it meant a such a grim sacrifice. Even if it meant missing the initial release and having the plot spoiled for him by random ponies passing by. Even...even if it meant he would have to wait a week or two if he wanted to find out whether Cleopatra was really going to come back to life in time for what could be Mark's final battle.

“I don’t really want anything, really.” Twilight’s look of disbelief made it clear she had found the half-finished order forms he started filling out a few days ago. “Ok, ok. I do want something but that isn’t it,” he corrected. Twilight smiled a little but continued staring him down. “Fine, I also want that! I was just gonna beg for it later, ok?”

Finally her grin won out over her accusing glare and she laughed to herself, “We’ll see. So, what do you want then?”

“Applejack asked me to-” He started…

“-Watch her apple stand in the mornings?”
“-Watch her apple stand in the mornings.” …they finished together, barely out of sync.

Now it was his turn to stare in disbelief as Twilight spoke. “Of course you can, silly. I’m sure she would really appreciate your help.” Glancing back down to her bowl Twilight nudged at it with a hoof - probably judging whether she could pretend Peewee’s bathing spray didn't reached it - while Spike continued to stare incredulously.

Twenty or so seconds, marking another freshly filled bowl slain by Twilight’s insatiable appetite, later she finally gave into her cravings and continued eating from the dirtied bowl. Across the table Spike still stared with his mouth agape, struggling to comprehend that he had just four hours preparing a full banquet he didn't need.

The roasted fruit? Fried veggies? Unnecessary; simple and easy, but unnecessary all the same .

The rapidly baked gnocchi that he struggled with for who knows how long before he got it just like Twilight's mom made it last summer? Wasted. He didn't even like cheese. Twilight barely liked cheese. There probably wasn't a single pony in Ponyville that actually liked cheese enough to care that there was a specifically prepared progression in it's type and taste; Twilight's Cutie Mark in concentric patterns, not that anyone cared. It was all a complete waste.

That stressful rush-job he did on foods that were suppose to marinate or chill for hours? By Celestia, it was almost as pointless as the dealing with the cheeses.

Twilight was busy munching away at yet another part of his masterpiece when she finally noticed him still staring, his jaw hanging open with a half asked question on his lips. “Yes? What is it, Spike?”

“You KNEW?” Twilight’s horn gave off the slightest hint of purple light at his question. In the distance he barely heard a brief, but all too familiar sound: a quill scratching against paper. It didn't last long enough for her to be taking notes either. The sound was sudden. Abrupt. Almost like someone marking an item off a...no, it couldn't be. “You made a list for this?!”

“Organization and schedules are both very important Spike; lists make it easier to maintain the order both of those create. Besides, I needed more data for a…let’s say ‘study’ of mine,” her eyes positively sparkled with mischief as she said this and then lowered her head to continue eating, only to pause for a moment and raise it back up to address him again. “This tastes amazing by the way; you've really outdone yourself. You did an especially nice job with the pattern in the cheeses.”

Her smile was endearing and her words warmed him, but he wasn't ready to forget her transgressions quite yet. “Yeah, yeah. Flatter me all you want, but-”

“Oh, I wasn't flattering you. I was just thinking about how much Rarity adores stallions that can cook; she would be really impressed,” Twilight announced, before returning to her meal like she had just ended the conversation. Like it would even matter to him if his lovely lady Rarity...liked...oh...

Oh.

...

'Don’t fall for it, don’t fall for it, don’t fall for it, it's just a trick, don’t fall for-’ “Really?” Spike did his very best to ignore Twilight’s horn glowing yet again as she glanced up from her food coyly. Hope valiantly bludgeoned common -sense into submission just in time for him to not notice the sound of quill against paper.

“Of course," Twilight stated, "but there’s one thing she really, really likes.” Spike pointedly refused to acknowledge Twilight barely suppress a giggle mid-sentence.

“She absolutely.” Twilight lowered her voice slightly; unwittingly, Spike leaned forward to better catch her every word.

*Giggle* That one she couldn't hold back. Still, Spike was enraptured so she proceeded the moment her composure was somewhat restored. "Positively.” Here she leaned in a little as well, glancing to and fro conspiratorially like some hidden stallion would burst out of a potted plant and run off to woo Rarity with the secret she was about to impart.

“Loves,” Twilight paused one last time to flash him a cheeky smile which he returned exuberantly. Satisfied with how things had proceeded, Twilight summoned another bowl and returned to her feast.

“…”

He waited for the last few words to come with half of his body draped over the table, his tail flicking to and fro with excitement. This would be it. This would be it. All those months of pining were not in vain; Rarity's heart would finally be his! Their love would be the stuff of epic poems!

“…”

Any moment now.

"..."

Slowly Spike realized Twilight wasn't just pausing for breath. No, she was neck deep in food. Literally. Bracing the almost overflowing pot of Okróshka - which he still couldn't pronounce to save his life - against the table, Twilight guzzled the chilled soup down like she had was eating for twenty.

Spike’s limited self-restraint lasted through all forty breathless seconds of her draining the container, right up until she finally upended the pot to catch its last few precious drops on her tongue; with all the understanding he could afford to her the young dragon exploded at his keeper.

“Well, what is it?!” Twilight glanced over to him as he screamed, her eyes far too innocent for a mare that had just ended a sentence where she had. Or a mare who had just eaten enough soup to feed half the royal guards.

She took another ten seconds to savor the soup before finally answering. Kind of. “What is what?” Twilight asked, the tiniest hint of a smile working its way through her mask of ignorance.

“The secret! Your secret! Rarity’s secret! Whatever Rarity really likes!” Picking up on either Spike’s enthusiasm or the hints of amusement leaking through Twilight’s facade, Peewee trilled along with Spike’s shout before dipping his head back down to nibble at the cupcake chunk he still hadn't finished.

“Oh, that? Are you sure you want to know something silly like that?" Spike could only beg wordlessly, too excited to speak in an intelligible manner. "Well, I suppose if you really want to know I can tell you.” Twilight levitated another bowl over. “She really loves...” Twilight paused to gulp down the contents of the bowl on the table. “Assistants who…” Twilight practically inhaled whatever was in the next bowl -- which had not been lucky enough to even reach the table before falling to her mighty hunger -- before calmly setting both empty vessels down in the pile that had gathered on her side of the table. "Do the dishes on Monday nights even though it’s somepony else’s turn.”

“Really?! Oh, this is so awesome!” With all the focus of a fledgling Court Mage Twilight reigned in all signs of emotion, initiating a series of complex mental calculations based on ancient --and technically incorrect, but only because of the limited accuracy of the equipment those ancient ponies used --thaumaturgic principles to buy herself time as Spike gushed. “Tonight’s Monday and it’s even your turn to do the dishes! I can start right…wait a minute... Again? Really, Twilight? Two weeks in a row?”

She endured all the way up until the very moment realization that he was being duped set in; with a lot more patience she certainly didn't deserve from him Spike waited for her to stop rolling on the kitchen floor wracked by her laughing fit so she could explain her second betrayal this month.

“R-really! I’ll – bwahahahaha -- I’ll just-" *Snort, giggle* "-leave you to get started on that. Thanks for dinner!” With that she chugged down the contents of her goblet, slapped it back into place on the table and winked out of existence. Probably to continue laughing somewhere secluded so he couldn't nag her into doing her share of the housework.

Again.

In a huff Spike slumped back into his seat to catalog ~~their~~ his work: he needed to wash all those pots he cooked with, the bowls they ate out of, the plates, the goblets, the towel Twilight conjured -- which probably wouldn't vanish until he actually cleaned and dried it -- and scrub down the table. Oh boy, did he need to clean the table. That tablecloth did it's best, but it's best definitely wasn't up to snuff.

Also there was all the dusting he was supposed to earlier. Dusting which he skipped to make room for preparing his special -- and unnecessary -- dinner. And if he was already washing one piece of laundry he might as well try to get some of the rest out of the way while he was at it. And...

"Twe~et!~”

...he needed to give Peewee a proper bath, which would take an hour in and of itself.

"Hoo?" Spike almost couldn't believe the owl would bother him now. “Who, hoo?”

“What?” Spike snapped. As he rounded on the owl, flames flowing over his tongue and his claws grinding tracks through the wooden table, his temper just barely stayed in check. 'Barely' meaning that he briefly considered avi-cide, but decided he didn't want to clean up more of a mess. “I am NOT in the mood for your stupid games! Just shut up and go help Twilight or something!” Owloysius balked at the display, flaring his wings anxiously, but he didn't retreat as Spike expected him to.

"Who, hoo, who?” Owloysius fluttered off his perch to stand on the table and, glancing up at Spike every few seconds as if asking permission, dragged Peewee’s towel closer to himself. With prodigious dexterity -- and the use of Twilight's untouched fork -- the older bird arranged the younger one’s cloth into an improvised sling and took flight once again, hovering just above the table with his charge suspended below him.

“Oh. You were asking for help with...or to help with...oh.” Prying his claws out of the table, Spike had no choice but to reflect on how violently he had reacted to his fellow assistant's helpfulness. Again. “Sorry Owloysius. Thanks for taking care of Peewee for me.”

“Who?”

Thus the two birds departed leaving Spike to his his regretful thoughts and an ever-growing mountain of chores.

~*~*~
~Spike~
~*~*~

“Spike, it’s time to get up!”

Why was his blanket talking? Had Twilight brought the beds to life again? Or maybe just the pillows and sheets? Well, no matter what she had done he wasn't budging; it could enjoy it's new sentience alone for all he cared.

Unfortunately the blanket quickly recognize his reluctance to move. Far too quickly for an object that hadn't been intelligent for a full day, actually. “Come on, you have to get over to Sweet Apple Acres before eight-fifteen so Applejack doesn't have to wait for you.” Magically animated or not at least it was warm. And fluffy.

“You need time to shower, eat breakfast, read up on a few subjects and prepare a few notes to reference while running her stand. You want to be on time for your first day of work, don’t you?” Warm, fluffy and comfortable talking blankets warrant a rational and mentally stimulating response to their questions, right?

“No,” he answered. Satisfied that the matter had been resolved Spike nestled into back into its warm fluffiness, hoping to get back to sleep before it could try to wake him again.

He was not successful.

*Giggle* “Spii~iike, get up!” Its mere existence was a little alarming, yes, but that was the least of his problems; the blanket was now moving away from him. With its enjoyable fuzziness gone a single kernel of wisdom was able to slip past his dream devoted defenses: Blankets, magically animated or not, do not usually talk.

Except for that one time Shining Armor pranked Twilight, that is. Or after that horrible breakfast-in-bed incident back when they visited Twilight's parent's that one summer unannounced. 'Eww...'

Not willing to risk any more unpleasant or suspicious thoughts, Spike wriggled under what felt oddly like a leg drawing more giggles from the chatty bedspread. “At this rate you’ll have to skip your shower so you have time to read,” it continued, speaking and giggling in turn.

Blankets don’t talk and, even if they did, they definitely wouldn't talk with Twilight’s voice and Twilight’s weird priorities. They would sound like Rarity: perfect and beautiful and nice enough to not wake him up early in the morning after a long night of cleaning downstairs because he couldn't get through the book blockade to go up the stairs to his basket. Didn’t the blanket know that? Wouldn't that be the first thing a magically animated object learns when it comes to life?

No matter. He would correct the problem himself.

“You should sound like Rarity,” he muttered into it, "then you'd be the best blanket ever."

'There. All problems solved forever.'

“I’m not sure whether that’s cute or disturbing,” it stated pulling away again. This time, however, scooting towards it didn't do anything. Actually he couldn't feel the ground either; something was gently pushing at him from every direction, keeping him away from his blanket or the floor or even a soft tome he could curl up under.

Even when half asleep he could recognize this phenomenon as levitation. Sparked by that bit of knowledge yet another granule of clarity blasted into his mind, blazing a trail of destruction through all of his mental fortifications leaving only the wreckage known as consciousness in its wake. 'Wait a second; Blankets can’t levitate things.'

If it sounds like Twilight, thinks like Twilight, has legs like Twilight -- or any pony for that matter -- and has magic like Twilight then…

Maybe it was was...? Nope. Celestia would never fall for a a trap involving an empty box an a carefully placed carrot.

Either Twilight turned herself into a blanket at some point in the night for reasons unknown or it actually was Twilight. Either way he probably wasn't going to get back to sleep any time soon; the second would mean less work though, so he was gunning for that. “Gimme five more minutes?” He begged, not expecting much.

Maybe, just maybe, Twilight would give in for once. It was a long shot but it could totally still happen. Even better, she might give him a half decent reason to justify waking up at...at whenever she was waking him up.

“No,” the pony formerly known as ‘blanket’ replied as she set his feet to the ground; sadly that actually was a better explanation than usual. “Now march, mister.”

Regretfully forced to open his eyes lest he stumble into a pile of books and face lecture that would put in back to sleep -- which would only earn him yet another lecture, adding to his problems --, Spike staggered to the stairs; books that all but barricaded the upper story of the tree-home politely slid out of his way, nudged by Twilight’s telekinesis.

Physically guided -- and only occasionally dragged -- by Twilight, Spike finally reached the bathroom both looking and feeling half dead; his eyes and posture were both more analogous to that of a beaten dog than a proud young dragon. Knowing his automatism would steer him well for the final stretch of his journey Twilight magically set the shower on at it's highest and hottest setting, dabbed toothpaste onto his toothbrush, flicked the toilet seat up and closed the door to give Spike privacy for his morning routine.

After a quick bathroom break and five glorious minutes under the most scalding temperature the shower could produce Spike was finally awake enough to function. Five more minutes were spent actually scrubbing himself down; polishing what he could reach of his head fins, scrubbing under his ear frills and trying to get his eponymous spike to actually gleam. As an after thought he devoted a few seconds to gargling and brushing his teeth, still enjoying the revitalization offered by the blissful warmth of boiling water.

Soon enough though he was ready for his big morning performance; with a towel wrapped around his waist for the sake of modesty Spike opened the bathroom door just slightly, took a few steps back -- only retreating halfway across the room -- and sprinted at the door, dropping to his knees just a second before he made his impressive entrance to the library common.

“♪E ~Quest~ ~Ri~ ~A~ Girls! They’re something mag–” Mid syllable and barely out of the door Twilight snapped him up with her magic looking just a touch more amused than the many other times they had been in the same situation. His towel outright vanished, probably displaced into some secret pile where it could mildew among its brethren in peace; he would have more cleaning to do later but that wasn't nearly as important as what was coming next. "How was it? How'd I do?"

“I’ll give you an eight point five out of ten for the song and a nine for the delivery, but we don’t have time for games like this today. Come on.” Still levitating him over her head, Twilight bound down the stairs and resumed speaking at the bottom. “We only have roughly five minutes left for breakfast.”

After a few wonderful seconds of pride at the seventeen-point-five out of twenty, his best rating for a morning performance since February, Spike finally processed what she had said. “Wait, no way Applejack wants me over there at…At…Uh…” Unfortunately for all his new-found energy he still didn't know what time it was. Thus the two traveled in silence, Twilight tactfully allowing a pause in their conversation until they breached the kitchen and Spike caught sight of the clock there. “Seven o’clock. Wait, it’s only Six-fifty-five? Come on! Nopony’s awake this early!”

“Well of course she isn't expecting you this early; she’s probably just finishing breakfast.” As she spoke Twilight set him down and gathered the components of what would soon be their breakfast -- eight slices of bread, a pair of apples, two glasses for orange juice, a jug of orange juice, a dish that she immediately filled with raspberry jam, two extra bowls for their bird's water, a banana and a small bowl of various minerals -- which replaced Spike in her magical grasp, floating in a languid orbit around her. “If you’re going to be a farmhand you’ll need to act the part. Thus you need to be up at sunrise.”

They both considered this for a moment before Twilight amended, "Assuming no long forgotten enemy of Equestria is vying for control over our heavenly bodies using dark powers the likes of which no mortal or deity should ever wield, of course."

Having corrected herself satisfactorily, Twilight set the table: The apples and glasses of juice divided themselves appropriately between her an Spike, settling beside her morning banana and his breakfast bowl of gemstones, which Twilight seemed to pull at random from a high cabinet. The next time the chain of bread passed him Spike let loose a quick burst of carefully controlled fire for each piece, lightly toasting one side.

"That kind of goes without saying, but why exactly do I need to rush through breakfast when it's this early?”

Each half-toasted piece of bread continued to revolve around Twilight as she set the jam and juice down at the center of the round table and opened a shade to allow the tentative light of a fresh dawn in, the toat coming back to Spike with the unheated side facing him just as fire returned to his breath.

“Research of course!” She replied with a smile, smearing jam onto their toast with several butter-knives while taking a seat. “I think Applejack wants to impress Big Mac today; she was so nervous about everything when she came over yesterday, you'd think she was afraid of him knowing about this. If showing up ready to answer any question he asks you doesn't improve your standing with him, and calm Applejack down, I don't know what will.”

‘It’s not like they’re gonna quiz me when I get there.’ Years worth of mistakenly saying those exact words kept him from triggering his caretaker's obsessive and aggressive study habits. Instead he plucked a piece of toast from the air and sat down on his side of the table as she set the other three down on his plate next to some questionable looking stones.

Examining one of the rocks closely Spike quickly identified it as moss-agate; the cloudy off-white color dominating its surface and snaking lines of green blemishes made the classification as about as obvious as telling an apple from a plum. ‘Ehh... It doesn't really look appetizing…’ This too was kept quiet as he dropped the first one he had selected back into the dish and pawed through the collection looking for another, hopefully more delectable looking, specimen.

The dull looking stones would undoubtedly be about as tasty as normal rocks covered in moss; bitter compared to most gems but bland compared to the weirder ones he liked. It probably wouldn't even have that delicious silica-y flavor he sometimes liked about quartz. Even so Spike shredded a small one in his claw, sprinkling the resultant grains onto his toast; across the table Twilight sliced her banana onto her own toast. They each slapped another piece of toast onto the first, completing their sandwiches a few seconds apart, and wolfed the food down without another thought.

Surprisingly the bitter twinge he had been expecting was very slight which allowed raspberry jam goodness to quickly overpower it. By the time he worked past the fruit flavor he only found the strangely pleasant flavor of quartz with hints of a mysteriously tart mineral aftertaste; Twilight had picked another great combination. “This is awesome! I don’t think I've mixed these two before.”

“It was that or garnet,” she stated with a shrug while preparing her second breakfast sandwich with magic and sipping juice manually; the remaining portion of the banana, peel and all, was sliced and worked between her remaining two slices of toast. “And you've never liked garnet in the morning.” Twilight swallowed the second sandwich in two massive bites, drained her drink and hopped up with her dishes already wrapped in arcane force. “Alright, we’ll have a few extra minutes for review; I think we’ll start with the dirt cultivation processes and work our way out from there.”

“Wait! I’m not-“ Twilight dumped all unburdened dishes in the sink, stuffed his sandwich into his bowl of gemstones and levitated him, the food and his drink beside her. A pair of knives twirled through both yet untouched apples, reducing the fruit into both baby-phoenix-sized morsels and owl-snack size. Both piles blended with an array of peanuts, pumpkin seeds and various other bird foods before vanished from the table, presumably teleported up to sit beside Peewee and Owlysius' water. “-done…yet.” He finished lamely.

“There’s no time for sitting around Spike!” Once again carried against his will, Spike caught sight of the clock again while straining to reach the meal hovering on the opposite side of Twilight’s body, just barely out of reach.

Six-fifty-six.

'It's going to be a long day.'

~*~*~
~Spike~
~*~*~

A grueling hour and four minutes of lectures on dirt and dirt accessories, interrupted only when Twilight went off on a tangent about dirt maintenance or dirt accessory comparisons –“You’ll definitely need to know the differences between pig-manure and cow-manure, so listen very carefully Spike.” – later Twilight carried Spike down the road to Applejack’s farm, still blathering on about dirt and the riveting ins and outs of dirt all dedicated farmers could presumably quote off the top of their heads.

Perched on Twilight’s back where she couldn't easily see him, Spike thumbed through a comic wrapped in a thick tome; Creating Compost: A Canterlotian Colt’s Consolidated Compendium had never seen more use.

“Did you catch that?” Twilight glanced over her shoulder to make sure he had neither dozed off nor gotten distracted as she asked about...well something dirt related, no doubt.

“Yup,” he quickly answered, far too engrossed in his comic to say any more. Mark Anthony was dueling Julius Caesar atop one of Cleopatra’s gargantuan snakes, fighting for the right to steal the immortal princess’s love away from the ancient king.

Amazingly the two were now nearly equals, despite of all of the massive unbalancing factors that should give one or the other an easy win. Mark Anthony’s distinct advantages were in speed and strength, being the much younger warrior and a master swordsman to boot, while Julius Caesar’s skill in hydromancy made him one of the top praetors of ~~Roam~~ Rome. Julius had even been the top antagonist in an earlier arc, pushing for a massive civil war while Mark struggled to first awaken his fire-based powers; Mark used everything he knew fighting Julius during the debate at senate and he still only ‘won’ in the loosest sense of the term because Julius didn't want to risk damaging his own podium before he finished speaking.

“Excellent!” Just like that Twilight returned to summarizing the fertilization benefits of specific plant wastes and plant byproducts -- from orange skins and apple cores to wilted flowers and different mosses -- as the early-waking ponies about town passed and greeted them. Most of the activity was flowing to and from the more residential part of town but a few ponies around the library were still up and about starting their day.

Even with the occasional interruption of Twilight slowing to acknowledge somepony or outright stopping to ask Spike a question the two made excellent time. Behind them Ponyville-proper shrank quickly and ahead of them, beyond books carried by Spike and Twilight alike, Sweet Apple Acres stretched and swelled as would a freshly roused beast. In a low hanging cloud above the two just a few meters away from Dash’s house a mare yawned and rolled over, setting her rainbow colored tail dancing in the wind; said cloud was the only free-floating tuft of vapor for kilometers in any direction, the forecast of partly cloudy be damned.

Neither librarian was paying attention when they breached Apple property. Set on an unwavering path, they marched straight for the door even as Big Mac stepped out of the portal and turned to regard them and their approach. Assured they would probably walk right into him if he didn't get their attention and feeling somewhat chatty, Big Mac offered what would probably be his longest greeting for the day with a smile.

“G’mornin’.”

Twilight jumped, dropping her book and tossing an equally startled dragon who in turn dropped his own book and the comic hidden within it; both scrambled to collect and dust off their possessions before coming to face the mountain of muscle and red fur just outside the Apple family’s home.

“Ya’ll here fer Applejack?” Within the house somepony swore, muttered a quick apology to their grandmother, and took off at a full run. Expecting Applejack to burst out of the door at any moment Big Mac shifted to the side slightly.

Neither he nor his guests expected Applejack to fly out of a second story window. Landing with a bouncy roll, Applejack scramble to position herself between her brother and the librarians, her mane and tail restrained only by the combination of her ever-present hat and the force of her will. “They’re here fer me an’ just me! It’s got nothin’ ta do with our market stall! You had best get over ta the market -- aw blast it all --; did ah say market just then? Ah meant… uh…uh…Caramels place! ‘Cause he wanted us to help with…” Applejack glanced back, pleading to her trusted unicorn friend for support.

“Hiring Spike?” Twilight offered just as confused as the stallion flanking Applejack.

“Exactly! He needs help hiring Spike without you knowin’ about it,” AJ stated looking quite proud of herself.

“…Nope?” Big Mac answered, confused and somewhat afraid.

“Wait a minute.” Applejack finally progressed through her muddled thoughts to the present moment. “Aww shucks, Twilight, why’d ya go an’ make me say that?”

“AJ?” Big Mac caught the edge of the door with a rear hoof, dragging it after him as he exited the house; with a quiet snap it closed behind him while everypony – and dragon – tried to make sense of Applejack’s ramblings. “We-”

“Don’t you give me none of that!" Applejack stared her brother down with furious eyes as she strained to stand eye to eye with him, "Ah know how you like to do, with yer fancy talk!”

“...Eeyup.”

“Ah WILL hire Spike," Applejack finally relaxed back to her normal height. "Whether. You. Like. It. Or. Not!” She drove every word home by thumping her brother in the chest, piercing his composure. Seeing as it was Big Mac his perturbation manifested as him still looking composed with just the slightest touch of puzzlement in his eyes.

“Eeyup, ah guess.”

“And we’ll pay him proper too! None of that fancy math you try to trick ponies with!”

“Eey-uh...Nn-hmm...Maybe?” Big Mac glanced between his sister and the barn behind himself, just the faintest hint of worry on his face.

“Don’t you start. You know what? We’ll split all the money good ‘n right, fifty-fifty!”

“Nnope.”

“Actually,” Spike cut in, “I was only expecting thirty bits or so; yesterday’s pay seemed like too much, you know?”

Big Mac took a moment to consider the offer. Swiftly he worked through the farm's expected gross profit, the typical variance in said profit due to changes in uncontrollable factors and the typical allocation of their final income, before factoring in extenuating circumstances years of running the farm taught him to expect and prepare for. A long forgotten princess trying to take over the world would, for example, lower their final profit by about six percent that day; just enough for him to notice, but not quite enough for it to be a real problem..

“Eeyu –”

Applejack shushed her brother, spun and shushed Spike, then turned back to face her sibling, “Ah KNOW yer tryin’ to pull somethin’ fast on lil’ Spike here and ah won’t let you swindle him!”

“Nnope?”

“He and Twilight are as good as kin, so yer gonna treat em like it!”

“Eeyup,” Big Mac answered as he started off toward the barn. Given his sluggish pace Applejack easily maneuvered around him to continue her merciless assault.

“We’re gonna pay him a straight half of what we make!” Applejack declared with utter confidence.

“Nnope.”

“A hundred bits!”

“Nnope.”

“What’s going on?” Spike whispered to Twilight.

“I think they’re negotiating, but how does that even work if Big Mac only says ‘yes’ or ‘no’?” Twilight answered, looking every bit as confused as Spike.

“Ninty bits!” Applejack actually seemed somewhat worried as she offered this number.

“Nnope. AJ…”

“Eighty then?”

“Nnope. AJ ya can’t just pick a number and pay 'em that. Ta do this right ah’ll have ta look at the books an-”

“Ah told you ah ain’t fallin’ for that again! Seventy bits? Come on Mac, please? For me?”

“Nnope. Sis we’re only making a small profit from the stand itself so we need to,” Applejack tackled one of her brothers forelegs; Big Mac continued at his regular speed completely unhindered, "sit down and calculate a reasonable salary for him. We will. Later."

“Please Mac, ah can’t stay in town all day; not when there's all this work ah could do out here! Ah just can’t! Ah know ah lost the arm-wrestling match but ah can’t stand not being here when we have work to do!” Big Mac remained unaffected by the pleading as he dragged his still sister along toward the barn, dragon and noble steed trailing behind them. “Please, ah'll do anything! Ah’ll chase after Applebloom and her lil' friends! Ah’ll help with the taxes! Ah’ll even listen ta that frou-frou poetry ya write! Fifty! Fifty bits a day fer a good friend! You’ll be mah favorite brother forever!”

“AJ!” A hint of embarrassment leaked into Big Macs voice; with a glance behind himself the massive stallion confirmed the two non-Apples were still following and still listening. “Ah don’t write…you can’t just tell…that’s ‘spose ta be a secret! And ah’m yer only brother.” He continued dragging her along toward their shared destination without pause.

“Please Mac! Ah’ll even keep Pinkie off ya till autumn!” At hearing her promise, Big Mac stopped short. “Just think about it: no more tear away dresses.” Eyes wide and fearful, Big Mac started shaking. “No more wakin’ up next to strange mares.” His legs wavered. Seeing an advantage, Applejack pressed on, “No more wakin’ up next to other stallions!” Her words seemed to physically strike him, driving the red giant to the ground like no normal attack possibly could.

Applejack nimbly avoided being crushed under her brother’s weight as she maneuvered to deliver the killing blow, whispered straight into one of his ears. “No more lettuce.”

“You win!” He cried out, curling into as small a ball as he could manage; all in all, he was still taller and wider than Spike by a large margin. “You win! Just keep her away from me, AJ, she…she did things with it.”

“DEAL!” Grinning, Applejack stepped over her sibling to address Twilight and Spike. “Alright, ah’ll just bring around the cart. It’s a pleasure ta have ya workin' fer the family, Spike.” With that she darted over her ruined brother once again, booking it toward the barn.

“Big Mac?…Are you alright?” Twilight asked, trying to keep her voice light and soothing.
“Big Mac?…What did Pinkie do to you?” Spike asked at the same time.

Upon hearing Twilights and Spikes voices mixing Big Mac curled into an even tighter ball. The two shared a look between themselves before approaching him, Spike dropping from Twilight’s back to lend Big Mac a calming claw; they both wanted to know the same things, but one question clearly took priority over the other.

“What did Pinkie Pie do to you?” They inquired together.

At mention of Pinkie’s last name Big Mac locked up and rolled to be completely supine, his ears froze pointing straight down and all of his legs standing straight in the air. Even his tail snapped into place at what looked to be a precise forty-five degree angle. His once terrified eyes took on a look of simple placidity, not unlike a Twilight any time Spike scratched juuust the right spot behind her ear.

“What is yer bidding, mah mistress?” At the end of Big Macs verbose question -- relatively speaking --, he bent both of his forelegs while lifting his head from the ground.

“Alright now I REALLY wan’t to know what happened. Hey Twilight, any idea what he’s doing?” Spike and Twilight both paced around Big Mac as the stallion slowly returned to his standard position with each leg fully extended.

“I think he just knelt or bowed, but why would he…” Twilights horn lit up with magic, probably to right the stallion so his gestures would at least make sense, when Applejack called out to them.

“Don’t ya’ll worry about him." She skidded to a stop a meter or two away from them, a smile on her face and the front of an apple loaded wagon braced across her chest. “This happens all the time after that last ‘accident’ with Pinkie, that barn door and the...well, it ain’t proper fer me to say but rest assured we burned the tree down once she was done with it.” The mare swept her hat off and hung her head, momentarily overwhelmed by equal parts regret and sorrow.

"Awesome," only a few words into the story Spike already knew it had to be an amazing one, “what did Pinkie do?” Applejack could only shake her head at Spikes question.

“Can’t say, sugar. Ah don’t even want ta know mahself, really.”

“Should we just leave him here? I could move him somewhere for you…” Applejack glanced between her sibling and the apples behind herself before responding to Twilight’s question.

“He’ll be fine, ah think. Eventually. If the therapy works. Well come on now, these apples won’t sell themselves.” Spike clambered back onto Twilight’s back and reclined against her head, his book in claw; at least he had time to finish the chapter in peace now, what with Twilight's attention focused on Applejack.

Grinning he opened the book and flipped through pages in the direction of his comic, only to progress smoothly to the other cover of the book. His comic wasn't where he slipped it.

Just a touch confused, Spike turned back and forth over a few pages. It should be in between that chapter on the zoning requirements for fertilizer heaps and the anecdotes on how to remove week old, rotten asparagus smell from your mane. It wasn't.

"Ah was thinking; we should hold a little get together..." Ignoring Applejack and Twilight's inconsequential blather he flicked through the book from start to finish, hoping the thin comic was wedged elsewhere else and he had just overlooked it. Nothing.

He checked through the book again, going in the opposite direction. More nothing.

"...maybe Ditzy could keep an eye on Spike and the girls on Friday or Saturday..."

Taking his chances with drawing Twilight’s attention, Spike flipped the book completely and gave it a few good shakes; a few stray tufts of purple fur floated free but he his comic remained lost. Worst yet Ponyville was already coming into view; Applejack set the pace for this leg of their trip and she evidently din't believe in speeds lower than galloping-for-your-life.

'Did I drop it or something?' Abruptly he remembered Twilight bucking him off not five minutes earlier; he probably didn't pick it up afterwards so it was still laying somewhere around there.

At the farm.

In the dirt.

Where anyone could pick it up at any time. Just like that, it would be gone; someone else would have his comic.

"...but I should be finished by then if the last report is in Equuish. I've received several in High-Gyphonian recently so..." Twilight mused, ignorant to the importance of Spike's problems.

His comic was missing. His comic; not the library's, not Twilight's and certainly not Big Mac's or Applejack's. He needed to get it. He had to get it. It was his.

There was only one thing stopping him form going back to get it: he was suppose to help Applejack. That was the whole point of everything: the stupid dinner yesterday, the rude awaking earlier, getting thrown from Twilight's back a few minutes ago...all of that just to help Applejack.

'Maybe I could ask someone to...' Who could he trust to retrieve it for him? Twilight would just as soon dispose of the comic as she would give it back to him. Applejack...actually, Applejack might just be perfect. The only problem was actually asking her; with Twilight not only in earshot but directly below him there would be little chance of discretely making any kind of request. He would have to wait for Twilight to leave and if they kept talking like this Applejack would leave with her.

Twilight put the simple market stall with ease, still fully engage in her conversation as possessive worry filled Spike's heart. Applejack waved to a few passers-by, trading polite but friendly comments on how wonderful their weatherponies were doing today while each beat of Spike's heart reminded him that one of his belongings was missing.

'There's no choice; I have to go get it. It's MINE.' Wait, no! Not that again!

What would Twilight say if she knew how much he wanted some stupid comic? How could Rarity ever trust him to be her protector and beloved suitor if he couldn't stop himself from thinking about owning just a few more things?

'Don't be greedy.'

'Don't be selfish.'

'Don't hoard things.'

'Don't be covetous.'

'Don't be...avarit...averick...'what was that other word Twilight used? Not that it mattered; whichever way he phrased it, it still came down to meaning he could never fail them like that ever again. The comic wasn't that important. Even if it was his and just a short run away. He had a duty to help Applejack. He had to make Twilight proud.

Twilight shifted subtly under him and, automatically reading the physical signal, Spike dismounted her; he hadn't notice anyone doing it but a crate was already upturned for him to stand upon and his first set of apples were already lain out in a neat little pile on the reassemble stand.

"Have a good day Spike!" Twilight chirped before kissing his head, banishing a few of his worries without even knowing that he had them.

"Ah'll check in with ya at around noon; thanks for the help!" Side by side Applejack and Twilight departed leaving Spike to wait for his first customer.

And wait...

Author's Note

Howdy.

Socratic tried to get my out of my...lets call it a 'writing funk'...a while ago, to no avail; something about this chapter just irks me. It still irks me. I hate this chapter. Unfortunately my brain recognizes it as a part of the story already so I can't just skip it; the compromise was rewriting it for a year, I guess.

I have unlearned more about writing in this year than I thought I knew in the first place; all I have to show for it is a half finished Zombie apocalypse story and a book filled with ideas that I can only hope will soon(ish) be put to paper the proper way.

Anyway, here it is. I'll be doing the same again for the next chapter which may well be posted in a few decades if I really hustle. Something about me really enjoys writing something, abandoning it for a while, then coming back and overhauling it...

As an aside, HOW THE HELL WERE PEOPLE STILL FINDING THIS? Far too many people located this story during my subtle/unannounced hiatus; we really must rustle up a few people and get them to write more Spike-centric stories to keep you guys busy.

Remember the Name

~*~*~
~The Dragon~
~*~*~

He awoke to the smell of rotting meat and a heavy scent that was not his own. Had something intruded upon his domain?

With meticulous, slow movements he stretched and twisted first his forelimbs, then his legs and finally his tail. He made sure there was no grand motion to the movements, nor was there the sound of scales sliding across scales. To a casual observer he probably still seemed asleep; curled into a comfortable ball upon his meager bed of gold coins and shining jewels his form would be a nondescript blob of green and purple and his slow, deep breaths suggested complete rest.

He did not need to move further to determine what species of prey – although specifying ‘prey’ did little to narrow down what variety of creature it was, habit still forced his thoughts to do so – produced the smell; though his cave was filled with reeking puddles of standing water he really should burn away, rancid bits of flesh from months ago he never got around to eating, and the musk of smoke, his powerful senses still allowed him to analyze the living morsel somewhere nearby.

It was a female pony. Healthy, strong and…magical?

Yes, quite magical. It could probably defend itself rather well, should he give it the chance to do so. Although it would require an unforgivable series of mistakes on his part, the small pony could potentially injure him; by sheer power she could almost be a fellow dragon, if not his own peer in the field of magical arts.

Still, it was a single pony deep within his territory: Free lunch. Breakfast and dinner too; he could rightfully sleep a week if he ate it all at once.

If he was to remain alert, though, he could only eat from the kill sparingly; sating his eternal hunger with, at most, a limb or two per sitting. This approach lacked the decadence he longed to indulge in but at least he would still be able to hunt and study the world at his leisure.

Yes, that would probably be best; ponies never travel alone when a dragon is lurking about. Why settle for one week of eating well, when a month’s worth of meat could easily be within his grasp?

The mare's hoofsteps grew audible. The edge of her magical presence passed over him, stifling only because of how acutely aware of it he was.

It -- she -- was actually walking towards him and this suited his purposes just fine. Thrill seekers and hoard thieves alike had done so in the past, thinking he qualified as a lethargic titan merely because he was two or three times their size. He allowed several to take sackful after sackful of his bedding, stealing from his hoard time and time again, while he feigned sleep. The scent of terror upon each each pony as he rolled over was always amusing and the pounding of their hearts whenever he deigned to scratch himself or twitch his tail always got a -- heavily stifled -- chuckle out of him; a few coins could not possibly buy better entertainment and he had little interest in the tasteless trinkets besides.

This little arrangement lasted until one raider forgot himself and whispered, among other things, "stupid beast". The fool neither finished his sentence, nor drew breath ever again.

The other ponies immediately scattered with each screaming adulations to their gods with hopes that they would be spared and their companions would not as he followed silently, snaking through his lush forest or swimming through his murky swamp when appropriate to monitor them leaving his lands. The screams quickly turned to quiet and thankful praise to their goddesses, every other word a promise that they would live out mundane and safe lives. Soon after their words shifted to secret whispers, “Next month we won’t bring a new guy. Just you and me and Sharphoof, if she makes it out of here.”

This intruder, however, did not smell of any pony that had ‘escaped’ him. In fact the thieves had not visited at all for quite some time. Perhaps they had finally learned that the cockiness they all eventually demonstrated would be there undoing and chose safer professions. Or that he did not wish to harm the creatures within his precious lands, so they would always come to find him when he was particularly hungry.

Mores the pity; meals coming to him was a pleasant change of pace and -- when he bothered to speak to his food before eating it -- they always had something amusing to say. Sometimes he would even let them go despite his hunger, assured a thousand times over they would never come again. They always seemed to forget to add "This week" to those assurances since he had caught and slain several repeat offenders, but at least their successful escapes gave others the courage to try anew.

No this pony was not one of the few he had visited his generosity upon. It smelt of old books and trees and…dragon fire? Interesting. If this pony did not have such powerful magic -- indeed if the pressure of its power was anything to judge by, its spells had a chance of actually leaving him ensorcelled -- he would have invited it to sit and chat.

“Spike?” Or it could invite itself. ‘Herself’, he corrected automatically. Respect for one’s food is respect for one’s self. Especially when you eat sentient beings. “I heard about them stealing from you. I heard about…about what you did to protect yourself. I understand that you did what you thought...that you did what you...I understand. It’s ok. Everything will be ok, Spike.”

The mare stopped roughly five meters away and sat, presumably waiting for him to answer or at least demonstrate that he was awake. It exuded no fear, by voice or scent.

'How strange…'

Did she truly believe him unworthy of her respect? That her magic --which even now he was subtly grasping and entwining his own with -- could best his, or even overcome the great flames which now stirred in his breast?

This was the breed of confidence that guided him to slaughter ponies that stole from him.

This was the type of insult he could not allow.

“Please Spike. Please still be yourself. I just...please, just remember me…” No. He would not abide by this affront to his power any longer.

Every muscle of his body slackened or shifted or drew taut, each preparing for his attack in their own way. He did not move, the many actions of his body hidden behind an armor of dark-green scales.

Even so an abjuration spell twisted reality between him and the pony. Directly in front of the mare a shield formed, primed with the weakest of cantrips and minor wardings; it was currently ethereal, but it still sat ready to defend the pony at but a moment’s notice...but from what? What could possibly fail to penetrate to such a pitiful defense? Did she...did she truly believe him that weak?

He flexed his tail, drawing the spike on its end across the ground in warning. The mare flinched at the sound this made but did not move otherwise.

He growled a warning and the mare was crying before the sound even left his throat. The pony knew what was going to happen. It was regretting its insolence.

Yet it still sat before him speaking.

“Please don’t Spike! Please, just...just... It’s me! Just please remember me...” Something about it -- her -- voice filled him with a unique sense of déjà vu.

Had it come here before? Had he allowed this little pony to sit before him since he claimed this land? This territory was new to him, conquered only five years ago when he had first set out on his own; could he have met and forgotten this pony since then?

No. Absolutely not. This was merely minor confusion; spontaneous, unfounded nostalgia; his mind was still drugged by sleep.

But the caress of the pony’s magic was so familiar...

Fire rolled up his throat, ready to destroy the world at his whim. Limbs heavy with muscle visibly shifted, the final warning she would ever ignore. His magic unraveled the the magical barrier separating him form her, tearing the shield apart; from there his magic nullified hers precisely and then it sank into her flesh so deeply the mare would probably never cast again even if she did escape his wrath. Surprisingly, she did not resist.

“I…I love you Spike. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have let you forget me. I'm sorry I let this happen. I-I'm so s...” Whirling to align his head with her he let loose a great gout of dragon fire upon the purple mare that lay before him crying. She didn't have time to scream before being silenced eternally, the scent of burnt flesh filling his nostrils before she even hit the ground.

Chuckling, he let the flame die just as the purple mare professing her love for him had. Even for a pony that was-

Wait. Purple mare? That loved him?

'Oh Celestia, no. NO!'

~*~*~
~Spike~
~*~*~

“TWILIGHT!” Howling her name, Spike wretch himself free of his blanket and ran towards her heavy scent. Or he tried to, at least.

His basket bound him in place, much more snug against his sides than usual; his strength and claws made quick work of it.

An endless array of piled tomes, each taller than him twice over, stood in his path. With one powerful lunge after another he was over them, sailing through the air with all the power of a Pegasus and none of its grace.

From somewhere up above an owl hooted at him. A snarl and a blast of fire, more pyrotechnic than thermal, shot its way and the owl fell silent reminded of its place in the great order of things.

Somewhere. She was somewhere here. He had to protect her from…protect her from…

Twilight's musk, which flowed through the whole library, grew stronger and he pursued it almost mindlessly. He didn't need to know what he was protecting her from. He just needed to find her.

Navigating stairs was much easier in his excited state. A single leap cleared them all bringing him into a freshly grown forest of books. He didn’t even need her scent to direct him anymore; he knew where she would be just as he knew that he had claws, or that the moon was in the sky.

Twisting through each stack, dashing over each pile, he made a beeline for her -- obeying in equal parts the definition of the word and the winding path a bee might normally travel -- at the epicenter of this cleaning disaster, at the eye of this storm of knowledge.

And there she lay, content and asleep, with a closed book acting as her pillow and open books, each propped up against pillars of their peers, guarded her every side. A soft, purple cushion made her rest comfortable, a precaution he was thankful she had taken since he knew she could just as easily sleep on the hard stone of a castle's floor, or upon grass in an open field, or even in a bathtub. Anywhere was fine so long as she had her books with her.

Silently Spike sidled up next to her, inspecting her closely. She is safe. Unharmed. This is good. She will remain so; he could make sure of that now.

Just slowly and carefully enough not to wake her and just quickly enough to satisfy his urge to be beside her, he nudged a book or three away from Twilight and took his place at her side.

Her warm fur calmed him, as it always had. His cool scales were a comfort to her, as they always would be.

It did not take long for his alertness to fade into satisfaction with the situation and life itself. This was how it was meant to be. She was his. These books were his. Everything within this domain was his. No thing and no dragon would take any of it away.

Sleep did not come as it would for most creatures though. For hours he lay at her side listening to the owl that dared not come closer, to the near silent shifting of a small bird inside his home, to other birds going about their lives outside, to the wars of insects upon his tree, to her regular heartbeat, to her soft snores. Eventually she drew him in her forelegs and shifted to make him her new pillow, her previous one drool soaked and abandoned.

Finally he relaxed, the last of his nightmare fading back into the depths of his tired mind. Sleep quickly became impossible to resist as Spike and his pony snuggled in the wee hours of the night. As he lost consciousness again, one last word slipped free from him; a warning to any who dared approach in the night.

“Mine.”

-*-*-
-Spike-
-*-*-

A few hours later Spike stirred from his sleep again, peacefully this time. With a yawn he tried to scratch his back, only to meet the soft coat of his pony blanket.

“Good morning Spike!” It was unnatural how cheery Twilight could be some mornings, especially ones where she was doing research or, even better, judging someone else’s research. It wouldn't last though.

Grumbling, Spike wormed his way out from under her legs and looked around. And he saw books. Books everywhere. Books lay in piles and pillars -- and, in one case, a perfect hollow octagon from his perspective next to Twilight -- as far as his eyes could see, each tome thankfully closed this time. The times where Twilight dropped books mid-sentence to pursue another were always the worst for her health and his sanity since he had to carefully and quickly record the book's name and then re-shelf each they became damaged, all while making sure Twilight didn’t stop breathing or eating because it was ‘inefficient’.

“What’s the damage?” Spike asked, fearing her answer.

Muzzle still buried in a thin, coverless book bound loosely by twine, Twilight waved a hoof dismissively. “I only emptied a few of our bookcases; I needed some light reading to make peer reviewing this utter foal’s research tolerable. Honestly, it’s like he doesn’t even care about the duplicability of his results!”

“A few bookcases. Light reading. Right.” There were enough books on the library floor to drown a pony. Rainbow Dash or Applejack might literally overdose on words if they came too close. The library didn’t even have this many books on display; most of these had to be from the sub-basement where they kept research and the books they cycled from display to temporarily storage, ensuring the library maintained proper variety in its display. This system let browsing ponies walk in and find something new every week...or it would if anypony actually came by to browse. Or check out a book for that matter.

Twilight didn’t pick up on his annoyance or sarcasm. “Exactly. Listen to this: ‘Five, measured to the seventh decimal place, units of Mercury were heated to one hundred degrees. This Mercury acted as the focus for my casting of Mord’s AR’ Excusing the casual contraction of Mordekainen's Alchemical Repose, 'Five units' of what unit? Which type of degree? And who still uses Mordenkainen’s Alchemical Repose anyway? He doesn’t even say what he used to heat the mercury; a normal flame, a fire-conjuring spell, a heating spell, Arcane Fire or Dragonfire,-- I can only hope he knows that it would be extremely wasteful to use either of these unless the experiment specifically called for their special properties --, a warmth transference spell, an energy displacement field focused onto a single point, an energy displacement field tuned to redirect energy into a general area…for all we know he got Celestia to sneeze on it!”

Right on schedule she made the standard transition from happy to upset with just the slightest dash of crazy. He’d seen this enough times to know where she was going to go with this rant. “Were units listed further on in the experiment? Look, maybe you should send this draft back before…–" Twilight cut him off, building steam.

"What if this is some kind of snide, subtle joke about the Princess that only I can see? I bet he’s laughing it up somewhere, purposefully miswriting experimental procedures and frivolously using non standardized units of measurement all at poor, sweet Princess Celestia’s expense!” Yup. It was going to be one of those days.

“Well you better finish up and send it back so the review board can make sure he’s punished,” Spike said hoping to sooth her. Luckily she grumbled something to the tune of 'I agree', somewhat placated. Twilight would be finished with her work and back to normal within the week…assuming, of course, the other research she had to review was written properly.

Spike looked around again; once she finished that, all of this clean would be a full day’s worth of work. 'Once she finished' being the most important bit. This mess was Future Spike’s problem, not his, and Twilight would probably recreate it if he finished cleaning before she sent the papers back, so he may as well leave it for later.

“I think I’m gonna go out for a while. What do you want to eat today? I’ll do your breakfast and lunch, then get dinner started when I come home.” Twilight answered with another dismissive wave of her hoof. “Come on, don’t be like that. You have to eat.”

“There are many disciplines of meditation that allow a pony to go weeks without eating. I could last at least another two days before my lack of practical training comes into play,” Twilight answered from within the article.

“It’s not healthy though. You know how Princess Celestia feels about you not eating; you wouldn’t want to worry her, right? Or disappoint her?” For billionth time, Spike asked these two exact questions and like every single other time Twilight snapped to attention. Ever since Celestia expressed her disapproval of poor dietary habits, this had been his best trick to force Twilight to eat. Of course Twilight had still been a little filly back when Celestia first said it and Celestia had been speaking to him, but...

“Oatmeal. A sandwich. Happy?” Just like that, she was back to work and Spike was planning her meals for the day.

‘Oatmeal with some diced apple, banana and pear and toast for breakfast. A Daisy and Radish-leaf sandwich, alongside a small salad drenched in lemon juice for lunch; make sure the salad is further out of reach than the sandwich so she’ll eat the sandwich first. Apple juice to drink with both.’ “I’ll have your breakfast ready in a bit. Promise me you’ll actually open the cooler to eat your lunch today.” When Spike first asked she didn’t respond, so he nudged her side and asked tried again. “Please? Promise me you’ll eat it.”

She either mumbled “Sure” at him or agreed with herself on some viewpoint in between cursing at the idiot scientist. It would have to do though.

Looking around for a path to their kitchen, Spike was suddenly struck with how odd the situation was; he didn’t sleep next to Twilight often anymore. He was too old for that.

Looking over at one of his favorite ponies he felt somewhat…sad. It was like he kind of missed her, even though she was right there next to him. It was pretty foreboding: like a ghost had walked right up to him and told him whatever they had wouldn’t last very long.

At least it explained why he woke up beside her, despite going to sleep in his basket though. Sleepwalking made for a much more reasonable explanation than him somehow teleporting himself at some point over the night -- and a much less weird explanation than her sleep-teleporting him --. For a moment he felt the need to quash the feeling down by expressing what he felt for her.

“Twilight I lov…uh…never mind.” It would be uncool to finish that, even though he had already said basically everything. Besides what could some stupid ghost know about the future? It could just keep on walking and take it’s prophecies of doom with it, because he would be having none of that nonsense. Wait, don’t ghosts float? Does what type of ghost it is matter? If it was a Pegasus ghost would it still fly normally or would it float just like any other pony’s ghost? Eh, whatever.

Pushing his way into a narrow corridor of books Twilight really couldn’t be crazy enough to think either of them would fit through, Spike was suddenly swept into a very warm embrace.

“I love you too Spike and I always will. Never forget that, ok? No matter what, never forget I love you.” She murmured against his head. It was mushy and corny and exactly the type of comfort he didn’t even know he had desperately needed. He stood there wrapped in her forelegs for a minute basking in the feeling of love before his masculinity got the better of him.

“Ok, ok I get it! Enough with the sappy stuff, alright? Can I go feed Peewee and make your food now?” He asked, extremely happy that dragons were physically incapable of crying; not that he was about to, mind you. If he were still a baby dragon -- or maybe even if he were a little colt -- there might have been some temptation to do so but he was well on his way to being a full fledged teenage dragon; he was even going to shed again soon.

Twilight let him go, giving his forehead a kiss as she released him. “Of course, my Number One Assistant. Thank you for taking such good care of me. I might forget to say it sometimes, but thank you for everything you do around here.” Nuzzling his head one last time, Twilight returned reading and he made his way to the kitchen to prepare food for her, Peewee and himself. Being sentimental definitely works up your appetite.

Thirty seconds of fighting with the books yielded poor results, but he still made some headway. Looking over his shoulder, Spike smiled as Twilight finally disappeared from his field of view: If he couldn’t see her then she couldn’t see him, right? This meant he would be relatively safe if he actually spoke his mind about something he noticed when she hugged him.

“Hey, Twilight! I can smell you from here! You really stink!” Her head peaked over a stack of books. She only had to look around for a second before she spotted him. ‘Oh. Right. She’s taller than me.’

Bellowing playfully, a path of books opened before her and Twilight charged at him with her work temporarily forgotten.