"I'm sorry, there is nothing more we can do."
The line stuck in my mind, like a magnet to metal. Those words played in my ears on repeat, shaking me to the very core of my being. I was just plucked from my world and dropped into a plane of blackness. A mix of confusion and anger pooled within me, ready to burst at any moment.
"Princess? Do you understand?"
Of course I understood. The thoughts rang endlessly in my head! I wanted to forget it and yell at him, tell him he was wrong. It was a mistake. It had to be. I opened my mouth, but choked on the words. I couldn't do it, as much as I wanted to. Dr. Bridlecure was one of the best doctors in all of Equestria, specialized in "exotic" species, such as hydras... or dragons. In the end, I just nodded.
The doctor placed a hoof gently on my shoulder and told me again that he was sorry. I buried my anger and gave him my thanks. There was no point in harboring ill will against him; he was only doing his job, after all. Still, it wasn't fair... not for me, our friends, and especially not him.
I put on a brave face and forced a smile before entering the room.
The sun lit the room through thin drapes on the window, making the blue of the walls only a little brighter. The window itself was open enough to allow fresh air to trickle into the otherwise stuffy room. The chirping of birds was a song of carefree happiness.
The beauty of the outdoors seemed infinitely out of reach from within this confined space. In here, the primary light source was the dull, lifeless white of the ceiling light, and the chirping of birds replaced by the buzzing of magic-run machines. The only comfort in that buzz came from the faith that the machines were still operating.
In the center of the room, surrounded by the buzzing medical equipment, was a bed, and the sight broke my heart. Spike was lying uncovered on the bed, with numerous wires hooked up to him and a wet cloth placed on his forehead. A bucket of ice water sat on a chair next to him; I set it down on the floor and took a seat.
“Hey, Spike... How are you feeling?” I stammered out. I don’t know why I asked that, I knew the answer, and I knew Spike wouldn’t respond. He had lost his ability to speak weeks ago, only one small step in this whole debilitating process.
Tears fought their way to the surface, ignoring my pleas to stop. I promised myself I wouldn’t cry. I had to be strong, for myself and for Spike. That didn’t stop the urge to let loose and cry myself dry. This whole situation just wasn’t fair. Spike never asked for this, never deserved this, so why did this have to happen?
I tore the image of Spike away from my view, instead closing my eyes and summoning happier images of him. None came; my mind remained as black as an unlit room, with the humming of the medical equipment and the rough, grinding of Spike’s breathing penetrating my mind. Streams flowed down my cheeks as I opened my eyes; it was no use. I couldn’t escape from this reality.
Every single visit was the same: I would sit down, talk to Spike as if he’d just happily respond, realize he wouldn’t, then cry. And every time I would resort to my last option: leaving. I felt horrible every time, but I just couldn’t bear the sight.
The door swung open and hoofsteps drummed against the floor tiles. I didn’t bother looking up.
“Princess?”
“Yes?” I muttered.
“I’m sorry, but I need to change the cloth on our patient—”
“His name is Spike,” I said as I locked eyes with the pony. She looked nervous, probably new to the nursing position. That or my stare spoke much harsher than my words. I sighed. “I’m sorry.”
The nurse warily smiled, “That’s fine, but I do need to change the cloth on Spike’s head. It’ll only take a moment if you would like to stay longer.”
So much of me wanted to stay here with Spike. He needed me more than ever right now, and I had a duty as his friend to be there by his side. One look at Spike, however, shriveled my resolve. Every time I looked at him, I could only feel regret for being unable to stop this. I needed to get away. “I-I have to go.”
The nurse looked puzzled, judging me for my lack of backbone and loyalty. I hated her for that. She couldn’t possibly know what the hay I was going through!
I swallowed my anger and passed her toward the door. One last look at Spike softened my attitude. “Please, help Spike…”
I shut the door. I didn't need to hear the comforting lies she would inevitably feed me.
~~~
The sun had set fire to the horizon by the time I reached home. The sight was always breathtaking, and this time was no different. Normally, the castle would offer a warm and welcoming glow in the evening sun. This time, however, the crystalline structure reflected flames.
Inside offered a cool shield against the outside summer air. I exhaled a breath that I forgot I held and offered a small smile at the indoor comfort. Even though it had only been a few hours at most, it felt like it had been years since I’d stepped through the halls of home, and it felt wonderful to be back in its embrace, yet everything felt wrong about this comfort.
The empty echoes of my hooves against the floor told stories of how lonely this place really was. Besides Owlowiscious, who has preferred the outdoors ever since Golden Oaks was destroyed, Spike was the only other one who lived here with me. Oftentimes the others would stop by to hang out, and more recently to check on how I was doing, but they would usually leave by the time night arose.
I needed to get my mind off of everything. It certainly wouldn’t help Spike if I worried myself to death… and I knew he wouldn’t want that. He would tell me I need to relax and not to worry so much. If only it were that easy.
I popped out of thought in the presence of stocked shelves and hanging pots and pans—a kitchen that any chef would be proud of. The grumbling in my stomach pleaded for a good night’s meal, which I hoped to create. I may have been a mare of much knowledge and many talents, but cooking was not one of those. In Canterlot, the kitchen staff at the castle would prepare all my meals, and since moving to Ponyville, Spike had taken up the role of chef quite well. I never really had to ask him to cook, he just did it instinctively. When I did ask, though, a little light shone in his eyes and he was gone in a flash, ready to fix up something delicious. Spike loved cooking, just another way to help out in any way he could.
I studied the hanging kitchenware and swung open the cabinet doors. There had to be a quick and easy-to-fix meal hiding somewhere amongst the jars and neatly sealed packages. Chips, pastas, and various kinds of nuts seemed like the simplest meals from my half-search. I didn’t care too much for snacking, so I opted for a simple spaghetti. I filled a pot with water and placed it on the stove to boil. Cooking pasta wouldn’t be the most difficult thing I’ve done in my life.
A few wandering thoughts and a ball of gummy, overcooked spaghetti later, I gave up on the idea of eating a cooked meal. I knew if I just applied myself, I could make a decent dish, but I just didn’t have the will to pay attention to it. I poured an assortment of nuts and oats into a bowl and took it to my bedroom.
The warm light of the sun was gone by the time I reached my room. The moon wasn’t visible through the opening to my balcony, but its light shone silver across the floor. I set the bowl on the nightstand and followed the cool light’s lure.
It was surprisingly cold when I stepped outside, the warmth of the summer air retreating with the day. The song of the active town limited now to only the chirping of crickets and the whistling of soft breezes as it danced across the smooth bark of my home. I must have gotten trapped in my thoughts for longer than I’d realized as the moon was already nearing its apex. The sky was clear of clouds, and the stars dotted the sky like glitter strewn across a black canvas. It was a perfect night.
And I hated it.
I turned to escape the coolness of night and closed the curtains behind me. I couldn’t stand any of this. Everypony’s lives continued on. They slept soundly in their homes, enjoyed times with their families and friends. I should have been happy for them, but I wasn’t. I was envious, furious, even, that they had the luck to still have their loved ones, while I had to face the fact that Spike may not be around much longer.
For what seemed like the dozenth time that day, I felt my eyes tremble as tears escaped their captivity, running freely down my face. I had no right to hate others for their fortune. In all honesty, I was glad they didn’t have to deal with what Spike and I were going through. Still, I wished I didn’t feel so alone in all of this.
I dried my eyes and allowed them to adjust to the new darkness of the room. They felt heavy with the weight of all my anxiety and felt ready to collapse under the pressure. The bed in the center of the room beckoned me, wanting to rid me of my sorrows. With how long the day had felt, I was more than happy to oblige.
The comforts of the soft, quilted blanket—a gift from Rarity—grabbed hold of my sadness and hid it away from me. Perhaps this was all I needed: a good night’s rest. Tomorrow I would surely feel much better. I turned on my side and closed my eyes, welcoming sleep to take hold of me.
A light flared into existence, dim behind my closed eyelids. I clenched my eyes tighter together and rolled over to escape the small nuisance. The light was still there, and the warm and cozy bed was a little less so. I opened my eyes to a sliver, then fully so.
A spotlight? And the bed was gone, replaced by a rough, stone floor. I lifted myself off the ground and slowly made my way towards the lit area. What was this place? Was I dreaming? I reached the spot and bathed in the light. A black void surrounded me in every direction, except for the moon, which was positioned in the center of a starless sky.
This place… it felt so lonely… and so familiar, like I knew everything about it, but didn’t recognize it at all. Every time I closed my eyes, I would see this, feel this, live this. It was almost like this was my mind.
A wind blew around me, pushing the fog away and leaving me untouched. Long-familiar features finally began to come into focus. First the wooden floor, then the center table, followed by the walls with shelves and books… Golden Oaks!
I was dreaming!
“Spike, there’s nothing to worry about!”
My eyes shot fully open. I knew that voice… It was my own.
“I don’t know, Twilight…”
I turned around and found a projection of myself talking to Spike. They glowed, with trails of foggy light seemingly evaporating off of them and disappearing into thin air.
“Why don’t you want to see them?”
Spike rubbed his claws together, his eyes speaking volumes about his apprehension. “But… these are huge dragons, with huge wings and huge teeth! And look at me… I’m just a little dragon…”
“But the Great Dragon Migration only happens once a generation. Why miss the chance to see it?”
“I’ll see it the next generation, then… Y’know, when I’m a bigger and awesome dragon, and not so… small.”
I clenched my eyes shut.
“Oh, Spike… I doubt any of them will even notice any of us are there. There’s nothing shameful about being a baby dragon. One day, you’ll be just as big as them! Besides, you’re already awesome! Don’t let your size say otherwise.”
My body trembled against the threat of tears. I did my best to shake it off and watched as the apparitions disappeared. His chance to see the Great Dragon Migration again would be robbed from him… At least he got to see it once, and I’m glad he enjoyed it.
“Today’s the day!”
Another memory of me dancing and jumping around Spike sprung up to the right. Spike’s confusion read clearly. “Wait, what’s today?”
My image ignored Spike. “Oh, where’s my dress? And where's the mice? And what about the—”
“Twilight!”
“Huh? What is it, Spike?”
“What’s today?”
Finally, the other Twilight stopped her bouncing around. “How could you forget? Tonight’s the Grand Galloping Gala!”
I remembered this! I was so excited for the gala that I was more unorganized than usual. Thankfully, everything was found right where they should have been.
“Whoa! That’s today?!”
“Sure is! Now, how about you help me find everything we need?” With pride in her step and a determined smirk, she made for the stairs, with Spike following excitedly after her into a flash of green fog. That was always like Spike; no matter what the situation, he would always be willing to help, whether he enjoyed it or not.
The familiar turning of a page caught my ear; I turned to see Spike lying on his stomach on the floor, glancing through a book with me.
I knew this moment… Spike had never been too keen on reading just for the fun of reading. He’d only ever helped me with research when we were still in Canterlot. One day I wanted to change that and brought out a dozen adventure books for him to pick through. To my surprise, he didn’t go for the obvious Daring Do, but instead chose Nancy Nearsight’s Adventures Through the Badlands—a collection of short stories following the book’s namesake protagonist. It made sense, now, why he would choose that book. Nancy had very poor eyesight, and she had managed to befriend a dragon in the Badlands, who would help her whenever she needed it. He chose that book because he could relate to it.
My image turned to Spike and offered a genuine smile. He returned it and they both went back to reading before being engulfed in the fog of my mind, like all the rest.
I turned away and was met by a large opening in the wall. I stepped outside into an open field, lit only by a sun hidden far below the horizon and a plethora of scattered stars. A green mist materialized in the air above me, racing toward the ground. It slowed and the fog fell off, revealing another image of myself, with Spike hanging on to my back. I couldn’t place this memory, but it was yet another time we were happy. Just as soon as they appeared, they took off and disappeared into the night sky.
I closed my eyes, taking in the sounds of chirping insects in the tall grass. Sounds became muffled, as if I’d been placed behind a window and was no longer really there. I opened my eyes to the sight of trees sprouting out of the earth, surrounding me wherever I turned.
Once again, the familiar faces of this dream appeared, popping out from behind trees in a game of hide-and-seek, only to disappear once more as each memory tended to do.
I was on a rotating pedestal, lifted up high enough that I would be out of reach. On the memories played, showing me happy times we had: a snowball fight started by a sneak attack from Spike, a stroll through Ponyville with Spike, stopping at Sugarcube Corner for a snack with Spike. The memories surrounded me with such dizzying velocity that I felt the need to curl up in a ball and hide.
The memories all vanished in the fire of the setting sun, not unlike the one that had greeted me when I arrived home.
It was quiet. I wasn’t sure I would hear it if I even spoke, but slowly a sound echoed around me. Ahead of me was a large field occupied by endless stalks of tall grass. Cut through the center of the field was a dirt path, and the source of the sound.
Another ghostly image of myself galloped down the path towards me. This memory was different. There was an urgency in my step, and Spike was nowhere to be seen.
“Twilight?”
My breath caught as I looked down. Right in front of me, staring down the path, was Spike. A tremor of fear shot through me. “No…”
As my mirror image closed in, Spike gave a weak wave before running in and hugging her tight. I looked on, a mixture of sadness and anger taking hold of me.
The other Twilight was smiling, but I saw through the facade. “Tell him,” I ordered.
Her ears wilted as if she’d heard me. I repeated, “Tell him!”
“What did he say? The doctor, I mean...” Spike whispered.
I growled at the other Twilight. Her smile had shrunk to a sliver, and I could see fresh tears forming in her red eyes. I shouted, “He deserves to know! Tell him!”
She took a breath to compose herself and again put on that false smile. “The doctor—he said everything would be fine. Nothing to worry about at all.”
I forced my eyes shut, wishing the image would go away. That was it, the lie of my life. Why didn’t I have the guts to just tell him? I fed him so much false hope! At least if I had told him… If I had told him that he was suffering from a degenerative disease, then maybe he’d at least know what to expect… Would I have been doing him a service though? Would telling him then and there that he was destined to die have really been putting his best interests up front? He would have asked if there were a cure, which I would then have to choose to lie about, or tell the sad truth.
I chose to lie, to give him a chance to be happy and carefree until the disease firmly grasped hold of him. When he realized what was happening, I knew he would hate me until the day he passed. I decided to lie, anyway, with the hopes that I could somehow conjure up the miracle cure needed to save him. I had failed him, and he would never forgive me.
I would never forgive myself.
The world around me grew dark, and my eyes heavy. The weight I had been carrying finally pushed me down to the ground. My head became light and I felt the life escaping me as the air in my lungs escaped through constricting pressure. Tears streamed down my face through my closed eyes, dripping onto the packed dirt beneath me.
“I’m so sorry, Spike… Please, forgive me.”
~~~
I shot out of bed, gasping for any air I could take in. My body trembled as I fought to catch my breath.
Once I’d managed to calm down, I sat back against the pillow and studied the darkness in my room. I could see faint silhouettes scattered around me. I fixated on one of them, studying the intricate curves of the craft. Suddenly, a ghostly mist began to weave around the object, and it began to turn to face me. I shook my head and looked again; it was gone. Just my mind playing tricks on me.
The dream was still clear in my mind. Memory after memory, the happiness between me and Spike was apparent, except for that last one. Spike had been scared and looked to me for answers. He trusted me, and I betrayed that trust.
One thing each memory had in common, though, was that Spike was always there. He was always there for me when I needed him. So why, in his time need, was I not by his side?
I threw the covers off, letting them fall to the foot of the bed, and opened the curtains to the night air. The moon was setting on the horizon, waiting for the sun to take its place. I had slept through most of the night, after all.
I didn’t bother to wait for the sun; taking a step back, I leapt off the edge of the balcony, letting my wings spread wide and catch the breeze. I sped past several trees, narrowly dodging many, and scraping against a couple as the hospital came into view.
I debated flying right through the window to Spike’s room, but thought against it. Instead, I landed at the front door and trotted in. Every bit of me wanted to race through the halls to his room, to be by his side and comfort him as he needed. I fought against those impulses, though. I didn’t need to make a scene while here.
I weaved through halls, up the stairs, and through more halls, ignoring any comments from passers-by, until I finally arrived at the door to Spike’s room. I stopped, straightened my mane, and took a deep breath before walking inside.
Spike was still lying on his bed, but something was different. The cloth had been removed from his head, and the humming machines were silent. The last fact made me tremble: his raspy breaths were quiet as well.
“No,” I heard myself mutter quietly. Disbelief washed over me, drowning me. I felt myself drawing closer to Spike, but didn’t have control of my steps.
“No,” I felt myself say again. This is what I had been preparing for since I first received the news from Dr. Bridlecure, but no amount of preparation could prepare you for the loss of a loved one.
“No, Spike… Please, wake up…” I blinked several times, hoping the next time I opened them I’d be back at home, waking from another nightmare. I never did wake up, though, because I was already awake, and this was reality. Spike was gone.
I felt my legs give out from under me and I landed on the floor, staring at Spike’s still figure. My cheeks grew damp as tears fought to escape. I didn’t care if I cried anymore. I didn’t want to fight it back. I buried my face in the side of the bed and let the pressure release.
Through every sob and every tear, I saw those memories play back to me. That happy, carefree face. Sometimes curious, sometimes mischievous, always kind. Every smile, every laugh, every delighted reply, everything… gone.
Gone.
I lifted my head, wiping away the tears as best as I could. I owed him everything, but could only offer him one. “Spike. I am so sorry for everything… I tried my best, but it was never enough. I looked through every book, followed every lead, and always came up short. I failed you.
“You were always there for me, Spike. Always. You helped me through thick and thin, and I couldn’t even give you this one thing. But, please… help me one more time, Spike. Do one more thing for me… Please, wake up.”
Spike had given me so much in his life: from being my first friend to my study partner for tests. He was there with soup when I was sick in bed, and he was there when I needed morale support. He always gave me advice to help keep me in line, and he gave his ear when I needed somepony to talk to. And there was one final thing he gave me: a miracle.
He opened his eyes.
Author's Note
This was my first attempt at writing in a first person point of view. For the most part, I'm very happy with how it turned out!
This story is based off the video of the same name by Nutrafin. I hope I did the video justice because it really was incredible to me.
Here's a link to the video! https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0Clt9QMXrOo
Proofread by Jurassicdl3 and Watermelonpizza.
Art by Bait 09.
