Lightning Struck Home

by MyHobby

Rating: teen
Tags: My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Sad, Romance, Drama, Apple Bloom, Spike
Length: 20803

Winter falls on Ponyville, leaving Spike to cope with a recent tragedy alone. While nightmares darken his sleep, Apple Bloom offers a bit of light. Will he step into that light, or allow fear to devour him?

Twilight Sparkle got hurt, and Spike couldn't help her. Nightly dreams act as a constant reminder of the tragedy. He can't shake the feeling of guilt.

So when he's invited to a get-together with his friends, he sees an opportunity to forget. But it isn't long before the Everfree Forest's magic covers Ponyville in a deadly winter storm. With nowhere else to go, Apple Bloom is forced to stay at the library.

This is not a bad thing, in her mind. It's always nice to spend time with Spike. A little apple pie here, a bit of hot cocoa there, it could be fun.

Unfortunately for the both of them, life's rarely that easy.

Rated Teen for

Nightmarish Dreams
and
Relationship Drama

Part of The Heart's Promise Continuity
Lord Mayor Applejack
Fahr Drill
The Unmitigated Disaster
Scootaloo Will Fly!
Nature in the Wild
DayBreak
Lightning Struck Home
In the Absence of Sunset Shimmer
An Equestrian Griffon
If You Weren't Afraid
The Worst Kept Secret
Rhythm and Rhyme
In the Absence of Twilight Sparkle
The High Pariah of Breezy Bastion
The Heart's Promise

Published 2015-03-02 20:50:02 UTC
Last updated 2015-03-10 19:10:34 UTC

When That Cold Air Blows

The wind bit deep into Spike’s face. His claws dug at the ice as he slid back, blown about by the howling gale. He belched a gout of flame, but it was swallowed by the cold. He blinked tears from his eyes, but they froze on the spot. He could do no more than hold on and cry out.

“Twilight! Help!”

He was in the top of the tallest tower of the Crystal Empire’s palace. It glinted blue all around him in the blinding white light of the ice storm. The smooth crystal offered him no purchase as the ice coated it in a thin, deadly film. Behind him there was nothing but open air and a plummet to certain death.

“Spike!”

In the middle of the room, amid the swirl of snow, was a purple splash of color. A light burst through the white in a display of stunning power. Spike’s eyes met Twilight’s, and he couldn’t hold back the smile.

“Don’t worry, Spike,” Twilight said. She stood strong as he felt her magic grip his small, baby-dragon body. “I’ve got you. I’m right here.”

He moved forward as a painstaking pace, guided by her gentle, warm magic charge. He reached his claws out to touch the tip of her hoof.

The crystal beneath Twilight’s hooves turned dark and ugly. Shard shot up from the ground in a circle around her, trapping her in a cage of pure malice. She shrieked as one sharp edge sliced into her foreleg. Her concentration faltered.

Spike clawed at the slick floor in a desperate attempt to halt his fall. When his hands finally found purchase, he hung by his fingertips from the edge of the precipice. He screamed at Twilight, and she screamed back.

Spike looked down. The tower lay below him in its full, glistening glory. The snow spiraled as it fell down and was sucked beneath the castle. White became black as the roar of the wind took on a life of its own. Greedy green eyes formed out of the storm.

“She can’t help you.”

“Twilight!” Spike said. “Twilight, you gotta help me!”

“She is trapped, Spike,” the storm spat. “You cannot hold on by yourself. You are separated forever.”

“No!” Spike screamed into the wind, and almost overpowered it. “No! She’s my friend! We’ll always be together!”

One of Spike’s hands slipped. Bits of ice and crystal tumbled into the vortex. Twilight beat her prison with futile kicks.

“You’re mine,” the storm said. “Mine.”

A great gaping mouth, filled with rows of teeth, opened up at the base of the castle. The gale blew downwards, pulling him into the maw. The storm’s booming laugh struck Spike’s heart and dislodged the last of his claws.

“You fear,” the storm said, “so you are mine!”

Spike fell into fear’s open jaws.

***

“No!”

Spike tore his pillow clean in half as he sat up in his nest. Feathers fluttered around him as he heaved in mighty breaths. He looked down at the shredded halves clutched tight in his claws.

He lay back down and curled himself up over his comforters. The darkness in the library’s upper room felt solid, as if it physically pressed against his body. Cold seeped in from the cracks in the windows, cold that drifted along the floor until it slid past his belly scales and touched his hide.

The tangible darkness caused his spines to prickle, as if he could feel ghosts of the past wandering through the night and into his bedroom. He shut his eyes tight and drew a quilt across his back. He knew it was silly, but he couldn’t help lying motionless, afraid of the attention he might draw from anything lurking in the shadows.

After some time, he ignored the world around him and focused within. A moment of soul-searching led to his core: The fire that burned in his heart. He focused on that warmth, willing it to seep through his chest and into every limb. Twin trails of smoke escaped his nostrils. He sighed and blew the smoke across the room.

Spike dared to reach his arm out from under the covers. His hand found the small cabinet he kept beside his nest. He slid his claws up the side until he reached the top, where a candle waited. A gentle breath later, the room filled with a warm glow.

No ghosts hid in the shadows. No monsters waited in the cracks. No storms howled outside the window. He shuddered as he set the candle down on the cabinet and lay back beneath the covers. Since his pillow was in pieces all around him, he bunched up the comforters beneath his head and nestled his chin atop them.

His bedroom was large. There was room enough for two princess-sized beds, and his nest was just bigger than one of those. His private collection of books leaned against the far wall. The closet with his winter gear was sunk into the wood to his left. One door led to a full bathroom, while the other led downstairs to the library lobby.

The library was so empty when Twilight wasn’t there.

He wrapped himself tighter in his blanket as the cold slid an icy touch along his belly. He looked at the clock on the wall as it chimed three-o’-clock. He buried his head in his hands and groaned.

He skittered across the floor on all fours, grabbed a book from his shelf, and skittered back to the nest before the warmth left his covers. He plopped the book before him and turned the cover over.

“Fire in the Mountain,” he read, “by Twilight Sparkle.”

He smiled as he dug into the book, a familiar tale about a pony who delved into a volcano to save their friend from a fearsome fate. The monster that had kidnapped the friend was so touched by the pony’s dedication that he allowed them to go free.

Spike chuckled. Twilight had a thing for happy endings.

By the time he finished the book, the sun was already peering over the horizon. It reflected off the tall, intricate, crystal palace that had sprouted out of the ground nine years before. Twilight’s Palace. Her home and, for a few years, his.

He shuffled the covers off of his shoulders, skittered to the closet, and slid on a purple sweater. His warm breath turned to fog as he walked down the stairs, fog that mixed with the smoke still trailing out of his nose. He spent the next couple hours tidying up the library, making sure it was up to Twilight Sparkle’s standard for spotlessness.

“Hoo.”

Spike raised an eyebrow. He turned to the old, graying owl sitting on its perch near the library’s entrance. “Well if it isn’t Owloysius, Harbinger of Doom.”

“Hoo,” Owloysius said.

“Yeah, that was me thumping around upstairs.” Spike yawned into his claw. “Didn’t keep you up, did I?”

Owloysius tilted his wizened head.

Spike smirked. “Right. Night owl.”

“Hoo?”

“Sure, I coulda just come down and helped you, but that’s my time off, you know?”

“Hoo!”

“Uh uh. You don’t get the right to call me a lazy bum, featherbutt.” Spike went into the kitchen to whip up a meal for the owl. He set the prepared dish before Owloysius with feigned solemnity. “Your mouse-gut soufflé, Your Owliness.”

Owloysius gave him a dismissive hoot before digging into the food.

When time came to open up the library, Spike pulled the curtains aside to reveal a world of winter.

White snow hung from every bough. Colts and fillies played in the drifts, throwing snowballs and building snowponies. He saw the Cake twins, Pound and Pumpkin, hustling for the pond, which had been frozen solid in the deep, chilly night.

Huge banks lined the streets, shoved aside by strong earth pony stallions. And one particularly-strong earth pony mare, Spike noted as Apple Bloom hauled a cart down the street. She had managed to get that Apple Family gene that caused a pony to sprout up like an apple tree, and came up to just under Big Mac’s chin.

Spike told himself that he was only a little bit shorter than her. Only a little bit.

He opened the window and stuck his head through. “Hay, Apple Bloom! You covered my sidewalk again!

“Go back to bed, Spike!” she called out with a cheeky grin. She pushed the tip of her trapper hat away from her eyes. “It ain’t good for a lizard tah be out in this cold!”

Spike laughed. “I can handle it! See you this afternoon, right?”

“A’yup.” Apple Bloom patted her cart. “Ah’ll come by with your stuff. It’s apple pies for Ponyville, tonight!”

There was an understanding among Ponyville’s residents that in the deep of winter, certain desirable ingredients grew scarce. Fresh fruits and vegetables gave way to cooked rice and dried plums. Even the staunchest stockpiler had difficulties after the standard three months of winter. So it was with a great amount of joy that ponies shared in the bounty provided by the Apple Family’s skill with canning. Every week or so, one of the family members would cart around a few cans of apples, or pre-made pies, or a big cobbler, to lighten the mood.

It didn’t hurt the public’s opinion of Applejack’s status as mayor, that’s for sure.

Before Spike could return to the warmth of the library, a snowball flew out of nowhere and pelted him upside the head. He flicked a bit of snow off the tip of his nose. “Ah. Surely you realize this means war?”

Rumble flew overhead, bouncing another snowball in his hoof. He lifted one side of his earmuffs. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t hear you over the sound of your unconditional surrender.”

Rumble nearly tumbled out of the sky when a snowball smacked him square in the chest. Spike slammed the window shut and sprinted through the library, grabbing his overcoat on the way. Bursting out the door, he scooped up snow as he ran, building a foal-sized boulder in his claws.

Rumble looked from his snowball to Spike’s behemoth. His pupils shrunk. “Parley?”

The next strike did take the muscular stallion out of the sky. He left a pegasus-shaped impression in a snow drift. His snowball shot up from the force of the blow, and then came down in the center of the outline.

Spike trundled through the deep snow and stood beside the hole. “Alas, poor Rumble, laid low in the prime of his life. How ironic for the brave knight to be felled by a fierce dragon! No longer to ferry clouds across the sky with fearsome blows. No longer to douse roaring flames with mighty splashes. No longer to work odd jobs for the gentle villagers. No longer to woo his fair maiden!”

Rumble’s head popped out, a little pile of snow sitting between his ears. “Okay, I was fine with everything you said except for that last one.”

Spike reached down and pulled him out by his foreleg. “So what are you up to today?”

“It’s my weather patrol team’s free day.” Rumble brushed himself off, making sure to flick more than a few flakes at Spike. “Unless Cloudkicker calls in backup, I’m just gonna hang out. You?”

A chill ran through Spike’s body. He zipped his coat up to his neck. “I’m keeping the library open until three. After that, my calendar is clear as crystal.”

“Awesome. That means you can join us.” Rumble draped a foreleg around Spike’s shoulders. The dragon trudged through the snow on his hind legs. “Turns out that new coffee shop that moved into town—the Keen Bean?—is a really hopping place. They’ve got drink mixes the likes of which I cannot even pronounce. Caramelberry mochafrappeccino territory, here. They got music and a dance floor and everything.”

Spike gave him a dry chuckle when they reached the door to the library. “Sounds like your kinda place alright.”

“What can I say, I like the atmosphere.” Rumble prodded Spike’s poofy overcoat. “But here’s where things get interesting for you. Scootaloo and I are tracking down all our buddies to see if they’ll stop by. We rarely get together anymore, you know? It’ll be nice.”

Spike shrugged and pulled the door open.

“You need to get out sometime,” Rumble said. “It’s been almost five months since, um…”

Spike’s ear frills drooped. “I know.”

Rumble scuffed a hoof on the ground as Spike entered the library. “Don’t be afraid to open up every once in a while, dude.”

Spike stopped with his claw on the doorframe. He gave Rumble a small smile. “See you tonight. Around five, you think?”

“Yeah, we all ought to be there by then.” Rumble took flight with a small hop and a quick flap. “Bring your dancing shoes!”

“I don’t normally wear shoes!” Spike said as his friend retreated across Ponyville. “Dancing or otherwise.”

***

Spike tweaked his bowtie before a mirror. He angled it to the left, then to the right, and then back to the left. He had done so for the past fifteen minutes with little improvement from either side.

“Hoo?”

“How am I supposed to know if it’s too formal?” Spike shot Owloysius a low-browed glare. “I’ve never been to this place before. Maybe I just wanna make sure I look nice.”

“Hoo.”

“You’re no help.” Spike’s teeth chattered. He moved exactly one step closer to the fireplace. “It’s this or Rumble starts up some sort of intervention. I don’t need an intervention. I’m fine.”

“Hoo.”

“’Fraidy cat? Excuse me?” Spike struck a thumb to his chest. “Which of us is the world-renowned hero? Yeah, that’s right. The guy with thumbs. Two of ’em.”

“Hoo! Hoot!”

“No, I didn’t…” Spike groaned. “I’m sorry I offended your lack of digits. Yes, you are the only one here with wings. Yes, that’s, in your words, ‘Totally wicked.’”

Spike flicked Owloysius on the beak. “But you’re still a jerk.”

Owloysius shrugged. “Hoo.”

Spike closed the curtain. The day had grown dark far earlier than the usual sundown. Dark clouds gathered overhead, promising a snowstorm.

“Funny. Nothing’s on the schedule for today.” Spike shrugged. “Must be Cloudkicker getting stuff ready so she doesn’t have to work tomorrow.”

“Hoo.”

Spike’s mouth cracked open, showcasing his pointed, gem-crushing teeth. “But if you ever told her she’s lazier than Dash, she’ll prove her name by kicking you all the way to Cloudsdale.”

“Hoo…”

“Nope. I wouldn’t take my chances.” Spike shrugged on his heavy, down-filled coat. “Make sure the fire stays nice and warm, okay? You know where the fire bell is if it gets out of hand.”

“Hoo!”

“I know you know I know.” Spike waved a claw as he walked out the door on all fours. “Later.”

The ice and snow were cold against the soles of his feet and the palms of his hands. He stopped every few meters to rub life back into his limbs. “Maybe I should look into shoes. Just maybe. Galoshes, perhaps.”

The light of the sun as it passed between clouds was a relief, at least. The tips of his scales tingled as he stepped out from the shadows. All around there were sounds of foals playing or their parents calling them inside for a warm blanket and a mug of cocoa. A few Hay, Spikes were thrown his way, and he returned the greetings in turn.

He reached the market to find it emptying out. It was a little early in the day for that, but he supposed he couldn’t begrudge the salesponies wish to get out of the cold. Spent heat-pads were tossed into trashcans as carts were rolled away. Hats and saddles and boots and scarves were secured to anywhere there was a spare patch of hair.

Spike questioned the brilliance of sitting out in the cold for hours on end, but a living was a living.

On the outskirts of the market square lay the permanent shops. They were the ones with internal heating, and thus a bit more pleasant to visit in the cold winter months. On their outskirts, snug between the spa and the barber shop, was a brown building with green trim. The sign above the door was a steaming coffee mug with the words “Keen Bean” scrawled beneath it.

Spike pushed open the door, and was blasted with smells and sounds. Roasting beans, blaring music, flowing caramel, thumping bass, dripping chocolate, scattered singing. He stood at the entrance for a moment, unsure of what to do. He was rescued from his shock by a whap on the back from Rumble’s strong hoof. “It’s about time you made it! I was almost ready to come over and carry you here!”

Spike let the door fall shut behind him. Colored lights flashed overhead, stealing his attention. “You said this was a coffee shop! It’s a stinking club!”

“Clubs, shops, they can both be used as a blunt bludgeoning object.” Rumble scratched his blown-over mane. “That sounded funnier in my head. Come on, we got a table by the bar. You can say hi and grab a mug or five.”

Spike cocked an eyebrow. “How many have you had tonight?”

“Dunno, don’t care.” Rumble hovered in midair as he led Spike between ponies and around tables. “I’m planning on burning all my nervous energy on the dance floor with Scoots. Look, if I go into cardiac arrest from caffeine overdose, don’t try to revive me.”

“Wait,” Spike said. “What?”

“No, I just mean you personally. Get somepony else to revive me, sure.” Rumble’s mouth twisted into a funny shape. “I’ve seen you do CPR. Remember the dummy you punched a hole in? Don’t want that to happen to me.”

Spike crossed his arms. “I think somepony should have cut you off about four cups ago.”

“Make it six to be safe.” Rumble pointed, a grin spreading across his face. “And here in Beanland, for the first time in a long time, the gang!”

Dinky stood up from her seat beside Pipsqueak and waved her forelegs. “There’s our favorite dragon! Hop on over!”

Button Mash chuckled to himself. “Aha! The mighty dragon emerges from his cave!”

Spike lowered an eyebrow at the scruffy colt. “Somebody already made that joke, dude.”

“Nuts.”

“It was me.”

“Now you’re just being rude.”

Apple Bloom waved with one hoof while she gripped the chair beside her with the other. “We saved yah a seat!”

“Achoo!” Scootaloo shouted. She buried her nose in a handkerchief. “Wad ub, Spig?”

“I think I’m a heck of a lot better than you sound.” Spike smiled at Apple Bloom as he slid into his chair. He leaned his arm on the table and turned to Scootaloo. “Cold hitting you hard?”

“Hids hard ebery year,” she groaned. She shot Rumble a glare. “I wouldn’d eben be here if somebony waden’t threadenig abduction.”

Button snickered into his drink. “Somepony’s looking to commit a felony, I guess.”

“The stallion does have the one point,” Pipsqueak piped up. “It had been quite some time since we’ve hung out together. Let alone individually.” He bowed his head to Dinky. “Present company excepted, of course.”

Dinky wrinkled her nose. “You barely said hi to me on Hearts and Hooves day.”

“I couldn’t!” Pipsqueak tapped the table to accentuate his point. “Because I was busy preparing for our date that evening.”

“That was Hearts and Hooves Night.” Dinky turned away. “A completely separate thing from Hearts and Hooves Day.”

“See this? This is why we aren’t married yet.” Pipsqueak waved a hoof around the table. “We need this courtship period to figure out basic definitions of words and phrases.”

The smile on Spike’s face brightened little by little. He glanced around the table for the friends that weren’t there. “Not everypony could come, huh?”

“Twist woulda, but she’s gotta help her cousin Bonnie close up the Bon Bon.” Apple Bloom’s eyes turned upward in thought. “Snips hates the cold, so he’s probably burrowed under his covers right about now. Who even knows where Snails hangs out nowadays? Sweetie and Featherweight are here already.”

Spike furrowed his brow. “I didn’t see them when I walked in.”

“They’re somewhere. Said they had a surprise for us.” She nudged his shoulder. “Grab yourself a coffee and stay awhile. We ain’t goin’ nowhere no time soon!”

Spike saluted. “Yes, ma’am!”

It was the work of a moment to stand up and reach the coffee bar. Rumble was right about the menu choices. There were probably enough flavors and combinations to sate an army, and give each member their own, unique mug. He selected an iced tea with a fruity aroma and gave the order to the barista, a brown mare who vibrated like a nervous Chihuahua. Doreen Bean, her nametag said.

Spike was about to return to the table, cup in hand, when the music died down. Spotlights swiveled around to focus on the dance floor. Doreen Bean stood off to the side, a microphone in her hoof.

Spike shot the bar a double-take. He could have sworn he’d just taken his drink from her. How could she have—?

“Welcome to the Keen Bean we hope you enjoy your time here I think you’ll enjoy the special treat we have tonight please turn your attention to the dance floor!” she said in a rush. Her tail all but spun like a propeller behind her.

“Must be related to Pinkie Pie,” Spike muttered.

Four ponies wearing stylish green suits walked onto the floor, microphones attached behind their ears. Fluttershy stood at the front, a small smile on her face. “Ladies and gentlecolts, thank you for inviting the Ponytones to perform tonight. Even though the winter months can be cold, we hope we’ll give you reason to feel a little warmth in your heart.”

Behind her, Sweetie Belle and Featherweight double-checked their mics. The fourth pony—Toe Song, or Torch Tapper, or something, Spike thought—already had their head bobbing to an unheard beat.

Featherweight opened his mouth, and Spike almost dropped his drink as a deep baritone burst forth.

“Bum, bum, bum da-ah bum-bum…”

Fluttershy’s and Toe/Torch’s voices blended together as Sweetie’s took the lead.

“There’s a truth within you
And it’s waiting to show
There’s a path you must take
It’ll point the way to go

“The left or right
The day or night
There comes a choice to make
With all you might
Fight the good fight
Listen up, for heaven’s sake”

The dance that had been interrupted by their arrival started again in earnest at the bouncing beat. As Spike sat down, Scootaloo jumped up. She grabbed Rumble’s wing and dragged him along behind her. “Come on! If I godda be here, at leazd I ged to hab a liddle fun!”

Pipsqueak laughed at the bug-eyed look on Rumble’s surprised face. “He’ll be lucky if he doesn’t catch her cold, he’ll be.” He took Dinky’s hoof in his. “Come on, Love. Are we going to let them hog the dance floor?”

“Indeed not!” They skipped away, side by side.

“The truth will set you free
The truth living in your heart
That’s the way to be
Listen up, ‘cuz that’s the start”

Spike tapped his claws along with the rhythm. He spoke to Apple Bloom, raising his voice to be heard over the music. “Aren’t you gonna join them?”

“We proved kinda conclusively that ah cannot dance a step,” she said. She tilted her head down, a rosy tinge to her cheeks. “Ah’m liable to kick somepony sooner than later. And, well…” She gestured to her body, which was easily twice the size of anypony else there. “They’d have tah make room.”

“So they’d make room.” Spike jerked a thumb at the general melee. “You don’t even need to know a dance. Just go down there, open up a spot, and get started with those carrote moves of yours.”

“That’s why ah’m liable tah kick somepony in the face!” she laughed. She tugged on the edge of her pink bow. “What about you, smarmy? You gonna dance or what?”

“Well…” Spike ran a clawtip between his neck and the bowtie. “I do know this one dance. I learned it from the leprechauns in Lightninggale. Kinda silly…”

“Ah’ll make you a deal, then.” Apple Bloom smirked and hunched her shoulders. She held a hoof to the side of her mouth. “You go out an’ do your dance, and ah’ll do mine. We’ll be embarrassed t’gether and such.”

Spike slid his chair out. “Deal. You coming, Button? Button?”

Button Mash sat quietly to the side, his chin rested in his hooves. He had his eyes closed. His ears twitched as he listened to the song.

“Ah think maybe Button’s got other things on his mind.” Apple Bloom looked from the entranced stallion to the mare singing lead in the Ponytones. “Y’ think they’ll ever actually talk?”

“I heard that,” Button said with no change in his expression.

The song ended. Applause rolled around the club, coupled with cheers and whistles. Dozens of eager feet awaited the next piece. They were soon joined by an extra set of hooves, accompanied by four claws.

Fluttershy started the next song. It was quicker than the last, with each Ponytone taking a verse while Fluttershy belted out the chorus. Hooves snapped against the floor and wings beat overhead. Ponies made sure to give Apple Bloom a wide berth as she kicked and swung. Even so, she was nearly breathless with excitement.

Spike stood on his hind legs. He kept his hands on his shoulders and his back straight. He hopped a little bit, trying to find the rhythm of the song. He bounced from foot to foot, clicking his nails against the floor.

Apple Bloom kicked a back leg out after making sure there was ample room. “Whadda yah call that? ‘Cat on hot tin roof?’”

“It’s called… or it’s trying to be”—Spike sucked in a deep breath—“a leprechaun jig… It’s been… a while…”

Apple Bloom fell into a sturdy stance. “Wanna show me how it works?”

“It’s harder,” Spike wheezed, “when you have four legs. Geeze, I’m not as light as I used to be.”

“Heh, the weight’s all muscle, though.” Apple Bloom reached over and touched his upper arm. Her back stiffened and she jerked her hoof away. “Y’know. Just as an observation.”

Spike bit his lip. “Ahuh. So, what you gotta do is kinda cross your legs, like so.”

Apple Bloom mirrored his movements with her front legs. “Like this?”

“Yeah, but you do it with your back legs, too.” Spike scratched his chin. “I think. Then you sorta hop to the other foot.”

“What, with all four legs?” Apple Bloom tilted her head. “Ah’m gonna end up fallin’ on my flank!”

“Leprechauns only have two legs. Maybe it’s easier on their center of balance.” Spike kicked his leg out and slid it behind his grounded foot. “And, uh, something like that, maybe.”

Apple Bloom grimaced. “Now ah am gonna kick somepony.”

Spike clicked his heels. He grinned with two rows of pointy teeth. “Not even gonna try?”

“Hmph!” Apple Bloom tossed her mane. “You’re on!”

He performed the dance slowly as the Ponytones entered the final chorus. Apple Bloom followed as best she could. When he sped up, she hurried to match. Before long they were dancing at nearly the same speed. They were off a beat, and moving slowly enough to embarrass any leprechaun, but they were laughing all the same.

The door slammed open with a prolonged shout of “Everypony!” just as Fluttershy reached her high note. She screeched in surprise and ducked down underneath Sweetie Belle. Featherweight choked on his own spit and spent a few minutes coughing. Cold air billowed into the club, carrying with it silvery flakes of snow. Ponies rushed to pull on their coats or tighten their scarves.

Doreen Bean stomped up to the door. “You gotta come in or out, sister, I don’t pay to heat the outdoors you could do with some manners judging by the way you just interrupted a show and—”

The newcomer, a lavender pegasus mare with a blonde mane, shoved her hoof in Doreen’s mouth. “Can et, ye ijit! I’m tryin’a save yer clientele from certain doom!”

“Um,” Doreen said, at a loss for words, “what?”

“Thar’s a monster o’ a storm abrewin’ o’er the Everfree!” the mare said. “Et’s a fair heap more than th’ weather team’s capable o’ handlin’!”

Rumble still had Scootaloo in the middle of a deep dip. He looked up from her eyes for the first time since the dance began. “Wait, Cloudkicker?”

The weather pegasus slapped her forehead. “O’ course me barmy brother-in-law would be oot dancin’ on a night as bleak as all this! Ye got Thunderlane worried sicker ’n a tatzelwurm wit’ indigestion!”

“Um…” Rumble picked Scootaloo up and let her hover beside him. “Nice to see you, too?”

“E’erypony, ye gorra head home now if ye wish to see et at all!” Cloudkicker marched around the perimeter of the dance floor, her face stern and her ears laid back on her scalp. “Ye might can unnerstand the severity o’ the situation a wee bit more if ye bonnie well look ootside!”

Spike took a moment to peer through a nearby window. Snow fell in sheets as the wind blew loose branches to and fro. It was cold enough to freeze water in less than a moment, with a wind chill that was downright deadly.

“If ye cannae get home safely, ah recommend a good old-fashioned campout right here in th’ Mean Bean.”

“It’s the Keen Bean, actually—”

“An’ if ye dunnae get oot now, that’s exactly what yer gonna do!” Cloudkicker stomped her forehooves. “Now get a move on b’fore I’m forced to airlift ye oot o’ an avalanche!”

“Well, shoot.” Spike turned to Apple Bloom. “I guess you won’t get those pies delivered.”

“Well, ah already did. Mostly.” She nibbled her bottom lip. “Ah was kinda savin’ th’ library for last, cause—”

“I said move et ye lazy ponies!” Cloudkicker took to the air and zipped outside. “An’ dunnae think I willnae follow through wit’ me threats!”

Spike nearly got lost amid the stampede for the door. He managed to reach his coat and slide it over his shoulders before he was practically carried into the snow. He saw the Ponytones headed for Sweetie’s boutique. Button scrambled through the drifts towards his family home. Pipsqueak and Dinky held on to each other lest his small stature and her thin body get carried away by the wind. Scootaloo blocked the stinging snow with her magic as much as she could, cutting a path for Rumble to walk her home to Quills and Sofas.

Spike clutched his chest as the ice struck his heart. The chill spread through his body, seizing his muscles, until he finally managed to zip his coat up to his neck. A quick, hot breath into his palms later, he breathed a sigh of relief.

He plodded his way through the growing snowdrifts. He secured a warm, wooly cap around his head, but his crest kept nudging it the wrong way. He gave up and pressed it deep into his pocket. He carried on through the storm, his muscles aching with every step.

He finally reached the library with little energy to spare. His sidewalk was knee-deep along its entire length. He could barely see the library’s sign—denoting it as the Seeds of Friendship Public Library—underneath its new-fallen blanket. Putting one foot in front of the other, he focused on simply getting inside and getting a fire lit.

A grunt of frustration and a muffled curse tore its way past the howling gale. He furrowed his brow and looked back. Apple Bloom was secured in her harness, pulling with all her considerable strength on her wagon. She had cleared it off as much as she could, but the wheels kept getting clogged with snow and ice.

Temporarily forgoing warmth and safety, Spike rubbed his arms and waddled over. “Apple Bloom! What are you doing?”

“Ah’m getting’ the dang cart home!” she snapped. Her face was red from cold and exertion. “What’s it look like ah’m doin’?”

“You look like you’re asking for frostbite, or hypothermia, or a serious case of death!” Spike shook his head. “No. No, that isn’t happening. You gotta leave it here and dig it out tomorrow.”

The flaps on Apple Bloom’s trapper cap flapped in the violent wind. “What? Leave it here? Ah ain’t never not finished a route. Not now, not ever!”

“Ponyville just became a giant ice box. You can finish it later.” Spike shivered beneath his coat. “Come on inside. You can hang out until the storm blows over.”

“Uh…” Apple Bloom’s face softened as she looked over his shoulder. Her mouth scrunched up to the side. “Ah’m not sure that’s such a great idea.”

“Got a better one?” Spike crossed his arms and tapped a foot. Or maybe it was just shivering violently. It was hard to tell. He drew the corner of his mouth up. “Hay, we’ll make the best of it. I’ll brew up some cocoa and we can crack open one of the pies you brought me. Sound good?”

Apple Bloom’s cheeks grew a shade darker. She hunched her shoulders and grinned nervously. “Sure. Why not?” She flipped open the cart and pulled out three pies, ready to stick in the oven. “You’re the last stop on the route anyhow, ’cept for home. What’s an hour or two, huh?”

A sharp crack was followed by a resounding crash. A hefty branch from a nearby tree fell, torn down by the weight of the snow and the force of the wind. Spike shielded his face and grabbed Apple Bloom’s foreleg. “Might be a little more than a couple hours, Bloom! This storm’s not planning on quitting!”

They rushed for the door as fast as their overburdened and overtired legs could carry them. The ice chased them doggedly, searching for that last bit of skin to bite, that last tear to freeze, that last ear to whip. They pushed through the entrance, dripping and shaking. Spike cast one last look at the overwhelming blizzard and slammed the door shut with as much finality as he could.

Author's Note

I hate coffee, coincidentally.

This story is partially an experiment in improving my prose. Avoiding too much of the dry "He did she said" stuff, while trying not to bog it down with too much description.

Maybe one day I'll lose my mortal terror of Lavender Unicorn Syndrome, since avoiding that completely is hurting my capacity to describe character appearance. :applejackunsure: My style is a work in progress.

The story is complete, mostly, so expect an update on Wednesday!

Thinking of Apple Pie

Spike slumped against the wood door. He lowered himself to the floor and took several deep breaths. He closed his eyes and focused on his heart, on its beat and its warmth. He called forth a small flame that lit the edge of his lips. Smoke drifted out of his nose as his body temperature rose.

“Nice trick,” Apple Bloom said. She peeled off her coat as the attached snow melted into a puddle. She shook her boots off and grimaced at the way her hair plastered itself to her skin. “Ah ain’t gonna get any trouble from secondhand smoke, am ah?”

“It isn’t normal smoke,” Spike said. “It’s all magic byproduct. The energy that doesn’t get used by the spell. It doesn’t do anything good or bad.”

Apple Bloom raised an eyebrow. “Nothin’ that’s gonna ‘blanket the land in darkness’?”

Spike laughed. “That dragon had some seriously bad breath. Don’t worry; I’ve got a couple centuries to go before I’m that bad.”

Apple Bloom removed her hat and tried to fluff her sweaty mane with little success. “How ’bout lightin’ a fahr for those of us who’ve got normal lungs?”

Spike skittered across the floor to the waiting fireplace. A few logs were already stacked into the brick hearth, placed there by Owloysius. Spike cupped his hands in front of his mouth and blew hot breath between the palms. Magic, green-lit fire danced across the logs, singing the bark and eventually taking hold. Spike sat back and watched the fire grow, changing from green to orange as it started to burn independent of magic.

Apple Bloom walked up to the owl’s perch. Owloysius slept quietly, his wings twitching occasionally, until he sensed the pony’s approach. His large eyes blinked open.

“Hoo. Hoo!”

“Hay, Owloysius.” She tickled him under his beak. “How’s everypony’s favorite librarian?”

Owloysius snuck a smirk at Spike. “Hoo.”

She tilted an ear towards Spike. “You know what he’s sayin’?”

Spike chuckled. He walked up to the stand and flicked the tip of the owl’s ear. “He’s complaining that I should bring pretty mares to the library more often.”

“Hoot!” Owloysius said in agreement.

Apple Bloom snorted loudly. She covered her mouth with a matted hoof. “Thanks for the compliment, but ah don’t think ah look it right about now.”

Spike snapped his fingers and planted a palm to his forehead. “D’oh! Of course. You can use the shower upstairs if you wanna get cleaned up.”

Apple Bloom untied her bow. Her mane sprung out a little bit, but mostly held the same pose. She shook her head, letting it flop heavily against her neck. “Heck yes, please. You’re gonna want tah use it, too, ain’t yah?” A jolt went through her shoulders. “After ah’m done?” she added quickly.

“Nah, I’m good.” Spike picked up the pies from their resting place by the door. “The pie ought to be done by the time you get down.”

She gave him a grateful grin and bounced up the stairway. Spike stuck the extra pies in the icebox and set the third beside the oven. He closed his eyes and searched his memory for the recommended time and heat. A spark from his teeth ignited the oven, which he brought up to temperature slowly with a crank of the dial.

“Hoo.”

Owloysius rested on his shoulder, his eyebrows low and his beak severe. He pecked Spike on the ear.

“Ouch!” Spike rubbed the sore spot, but held himself back from batting the offending bird away. “What was that for?”

“Hoo!”

“I know this is a bad situation, okay?” Spike furrowed his scaly brow and slid the apple pie into the oven. The heat of the metal coils illuminated the pie as it cooked. “Did I really have a choice? We couldn’t just leave her out in the cold like that. I wasn’t joking when I said she could die.”

“Hoo, hoo.”

“Ponies gossip. It’s in their nature. If they misconstrued this, we’ll either set them straight or ignore them.” Spike rested against a polished wood dining table. He let the minutes tick by in his head. A tinge of cinnamon brought a smile to his face.

“Hoo!”

Spike’s muzzle scrunched up. “Huh? Temptation? Temptation to what?”

Owloysius closed his eyes with a faux-longsuffering expression. He shook his head. “Hoot.”

Spike’s cheeks went beet-red beneath his scales. He bared two sets of sharp teeth. “Uh… Um… You and I both know why that isn’t happening. Ever.”

“Hoo…”

“Apple Bloom’s my friend, and I sure as heck don’t wanna get her in trouble.” Spike prodded Owloysius in the chest. He let out a low grumble. “We’ll figure something out, right? Besides, we aren’t alone. We’ve got you. Congratulations, you’re our chaperone.”

Owloysius rolled his eyes. “Hoo.”

“I know you’re just an owl.” Spike’s nostrils twitched as he caught a new scent from the pie: The crust was turning crispy. “Just… go nap or whatever it is you do during the day. I’ll handle it.”

“Hoo, hoo, hoot!”

Spike brought his fist down on the tabletop. “Just get off my back!”

Though he only used an ounce of his strength, the table collapsed beneath the blow. The sound of wood snapping combined with a loud clatter to produce a resounding, heart-stopping cacophony.

Spike froze in place, his mouth agape. A tiny whine slipped out of his throat.

Owloysius shrugged and flapped his way over to his perch. He nestled into his fluffy feathers and fell asleep almost immediately.

Spike stood there for a moment, staring at the ruined table, before he remembered the pie. He forewent oven mitts and reached in barehanded to grip the pie tin gently in his clawtips. The cinnamon-apple filling bubbled up through the holes atop the pie’s crust, venting steam as the pie started to cool itself. The beautiful scent of apple, sugar, crust, and love mixed together drifted around the entire library. Spike sighed as the tension left his shoulders.

It returned with a shout from the upper floor. “Spike? Ah heard a crash, you alright?”

“No injury to report!” he shouted back. He swallowed and moved to the cabinets. Plates lay in meticulous stacks, due to the neatness constantly drilled into him by Twilight.

Twilight…

Dear Spike,

It’s Mom. Twilight’s hurt. She’s alive, but she isn’t doing well. We have her at Canterlot Hospital. Please pray for a quick recovery.

He found himself leaning on the countertop. He pushed himself up and reached into the cupboards. “Stupid plates.”

“Ah imagine they ain’t the smartest utensils, no.” Apple Bloom ducked so that she didn’t bump her head on the doorframe. Her mane was still a little damp from the shower, but the way her coat glistened and her tail flowed made her look much more comfortable. “Shucks, what happened to th’ table?”

“It… met with a terrible fate.” Spike wrung his hands. “Kinda a stupid accident.”

He slid a knife out of the silverware drawer with much less difficulty. He raised it above the steaming crust.

“Hold on a sec,” Apple Bloom said. “Y’ gotta wait a bit to let it cool. Otherwise it’s just gonna dribble all over the place and burn your tongue along with it.”

Spike smiled and set the knife down. “You’re the expert. How long do we have to wait?”

She tilted her head and waved a dismissive hoof. “No more’n ten minutes, ah’d guess. Ah’m feelin’ a might peckish, you know.”

The windows rattled from the force of the gale outside. The heavy crackle of the library’s branches gave the two of them pause.

“Applejack’s probably gonna have to stay at the office tonight.” Apple Bloom nibbled her lower lip. “Hope she an’ Mac don’t worry none.”

“That’s an easy fix.” Spike waddled on his hind legs out of the kitchen. “I’ll grab a couple sheets of paper and write them a message saying where you are.” He winked at her. “Dragonfire: One-hundred percent more reliable than the Postal Service.”

She suppressed a giggle when he reached for the pages. He turned on her with a raised brow. “What’s so funny?”

“Y’ look like a penguin when y’ walk on your hind legs like that.” She sat on her haunches and drew her forelegs up like wings. “Waddle, waddle, waddle.”

Spike sniffed and raised his chin. “I do not waddle.”

“Y’ kinda do, Spike.”

“I do not. I lumber, as any vast dragon does.”

“Don’t lumber mean somethin’ like ‘to waddle with heft’?” She gave him a cheeky grin. “Admit it to yourself an’ you’ll feel better.”

He scribbled down a quick note, copied it on a separate sheet, and rolled the two messages up. He pointed at a nearby window. “Open that up, will you? It’ll give the spell a shorter route.”

Apple Bloom stumped over, balancing on her hind legs. She braced herself against the wall and yanked the window open. Cold air blasted in, carrying with it a dusting of snow.

Spike breathed his powerful, sparkling fire on the letters and watched them burn into smoke. They shot into the storm, carried by a power far more mighty than the winds which threatened to pull them from their assigned paths.

Apple Bloom slid the pane shut with a sigh of relief. “Ah get the feelin’ ah ain’t really thanked you enough for not lettin’ me go out there.”

“It’s my good deed for the day.” Spike came alongside her. The glass fogged up from their warm breath. He scratched his upper arm idly, knocking loose a few dead scales. “I hope everypony’s okay.”

“Ah ain’t never seen it this bad b’fore,” Apple Bloom said.

“I have, but that was in the Crystal Empire…” Spike grimaced. “When Sombra was attacking.”

Apple Bloom’s loose mane swished over her shoulders as she swung her head around. “Y’ don’t suppose this has somethin’ tah do with what that Hurricane pony did to Cloudsdale, do yah?”

Spike clenched his fist as he leaned his arm against the wall. He ground his teeth lightly behind his lips, choking down a beastly growl. He pushed back from the window and walked away on all fours. “Whatever it is, it’s out of my hoov—hands. Out of my hands.”

Apple Bloom frowned as she watched him go. She settled her forehooves on the ground and followed at a short distance. “Ah’m sorry for bringin’ it up.”

“It’s fine.” Spike looked over his shoulder. “It’s not your fault. It just… hurts. I’m just glad everything’s settled down now.”

He paused at the door and looked over the pile of splinters and logs that had once been a table. “Um… Since the table is… not a table anymore, we can eat in the den.”

Apple Bloom popped her head into the kitchen. “The den?”

Spike flipped the knife between his fingers. Four quick cuts later, the pie was divided into eight equal slices. “It’s what I call the reading area by the fireplace. It’s got some big comfy couches, a nice armchair or two, and it’s conveniently situated right next to the radio.”

Apple Bloom puckered her lips. “Ah thought there weren’t no food or drinks allowed in the library.”

“During business hours, it is a library.” Spike dished out her plate and followed up with his own. He carried one in each hand as he waddled past her and between the book shelves. “Outside those hours, it’s my house.”

“Fair enough.” She moseyed over to the radio and flipped it on. Rather than the usual evening shows and music selection, there was an explosion of white noise. “What gives? What’s wrong with your speakers?”

An extra-loud bellow from the outdoors served as her answer. She snorted and flipped the switch back off. “Sure. Stormy weather an’ radio waves don’t mix for one reason or th’ other.”

“Then that leaves us with three options,” Spike said. He passed her a plate. “Pie, books, and good company. Take your pick.”

She smirked and spread herself across one of the cushy couches. Her tall body took up all three seats. “Pie, as always, wins out in the end.”

Spike added a log to the fire. A quick stroke later, it was blazing bright, lighting the room with an amber glow. He settled himself into the easychair beside Apple Bloom’s couch. The scent of smoke mingled with the tang of cinnamon as they dug into their treats.

“Ah always thought apple pie was a good source of memories,” Apple Bloom said through a mouthful of crumbs.

“I thought that was vitamin C.” Spike giggled as Apple Bloom stuck her tongue out. “No, but seriously, what do you mean?”

“It brings good stuff back. Like, the scents and the flavors all thread throughout your life, and this just brings it all together.” Apple Bloom lifted the plate to her nose and took a deep whiff. “Granny Smith always smelled like cinnamon. She told me she daubed a little behind her ears every mornin’, ’cause when she was a kid weren’t no way to afford good smellin’ soap. Had to make it by hoof. Times have changed in a good way as far as that goes.”

She tilted her head to the side, bringing her shoulder up to her cheek. “How ’bout you, Spike? What do you remember when you eat apple pie?”

Spike regarded the dessert on his lap. He brought it up to his mouth and took a careful nibble, letting the sweet stickiness coat his teeth. He mulled it around in his mouth for a long moment.

“Ponyville. The first day I came here.” Spike nestled into the chair. His tail waved softly back and forth over the armrest. “Warm sun, good food, lots of new friends… It was pretty awesome. Me and Twilight doing what we’ve always done best.”

Apple Bloom let her eyes drift over to the fireplace. “That was the first day we met, too, wasn’t it?”

“Yup. That’s where the ‘good food’ comes in.” Spike patted his belly. “I don’t think I’ve eaten so many apple-related goodies in my entire life.” He pointed a claw at her. “All of it awesome, I’d like to add.”

She smirked. “Ah was scared of you.”

“Huh?” Spike covered his heart with a disbelieving claw. “Me? Why?”

“’Til then, the only thing we’d ever heard about dragons was how big and scary they were.” She swung a hoof through the air. “They’d snatch you up if you didn’t eat your broccoli. They’d eat you outta house and home an’ then eat your house. But you didn’t.”

“Well…” Spike twiddled his thumbs. “Not always.”

Apple Bloom let out a huff. “Nopony blames you for the growth spurt.”

He shrugged. “I’m just saying, maybe they should.”

“We don’t.” She reached across the way and rested a hoof on his elbow. “You weren’t like that and you ain’t now. It ain’t hard to see how friendly you are.” She smiled and crossed her forelegs under her chin. “So ah pulled out the big guns t’ make sure y’all stayed for brunch.”

Spike scratched the place her hoof had touched, loosening a few more scales. “Ahuh. The big doe-eyes. I’m still pretty sure they’re about one step away from Fluttershy’s The Stare.”

“Results are results.” Her ear twitched toward the fire, catching a pop and a crackle. They silently watched the flames dance, feeling the warmth spread to every inch of their bodies. They set their plates on the floor, ready to clean once they were done resting.

“I should probably thank you on behalf of all of Equestria,” Spike said.

“Huh?” Apple Bloom’s head popped up. “What for?”

Spike peered around the side of the easychair’s back. “If we hadn’t spent the morning with you guys, would Twilight have trusted Applejack in the Everfree forest?”

Apple Bloom’s expression dimmed. Her forehead became heavy over her eyes. She looked back at the fire with a sigh. “It ain’t for us to know what mighta been.”

“No, but it can put what is into perspective.” Spike’s sharp teeth glinted in the firelight. “‘Apple Bloom, Savior of Equestria’ has a nice ring to it.”

“It’s a start,” she said, keeping her voice hushed. “Goes pretty well with ‘Spike, Champion of the Crystal Empire.’”

Spike tapped his clawtips together. He stood up in a rush. “Hay, you want something to read? The library has tons of new books. I’m pretty sure I could find something you—”

“You go ahead,” Apple Bloom said. She stretched her legs out and let her head flop down on the couch cushion. “Ah’m just gonna sit here awhile.”

Spike rubbed his wrist. He crawled over to her and sucked in his bottom lip. “You okay?”

“Now that there’s a question ah oughta be askin’ you.” She gave him a tight-lipped, lopsided smile. “But we both know the answer t’ that one.”

Spike rested on his haunches, his arm over one knee. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“’Cause it’s a hard one.” Apple Bloom’s eyes flicked between the fire and his own eyes. “Y’ ever get to a place and… and think that if everythin’ stayed the same, forever, life would be just fine?”

Spike’s ears dipped down. He opened and closed his hands, pressing his clawtips to his palms. “Yeah. Before Twilight got hurt. When I was her number one assistant.”

“Yeah. When everythin’ sits right.” Apple Bloom brushed a lock of red mane from her eyes. “But… but then you see somethin’ that would… change everythin’. It could be somethin’ amazing, or… or beautiful. But it would take a push. It would take a leap to get to that thing, that amazing, beautiful thing, and then nothin’ would be the same.”

She curled her legs closer to herself, firmly staring into the fire. “If it worked out, it would be great. But it might not work out. And if it did it would be hard. It would just be easier to keep things the same forever.” She shut her eyes and let out a loud breath. “What would you do?”

“I…” Spike fell fully to his rear. He hugged his chest and rubbed his upper arms. “I can’t answer for you, Apple Bloom. I guess if you tell me what it is, I can give you advice.”

“It’s a couple of things, ah guess.” Apple Bloom twisted herself so that she was sitting up. She threaded her tail around her flank and rested her hoof on the cushion beside her. “For one thing, ah wanna leave the farm.”

Spike blinked. He scratched the back of his head. “What? But it’s your home. It’s your life!”

“An’ like ah said, ah dunno if I want that life no more. Ah wanna open up a potion brewery downtown. Ah wanna offer mah skills as a carpenter to folks who need it.” She gave him a light, playful scowl. “An’ ah don’t wanna keep wakin’ up b’fore sunrise to clear out the chicken coop.”

He laughed lightly. He looked up at her with a cocked brow. “When’s this happening?”

“If ah wanted to, ah’d open up a shop once Applejack’s term as mayor ended.” She tilted her head back. “So ah got a couple years tah think on it, at least.”

“There’s that.” He let his smile show the tips of his teeth. “So, will you be good at it?”

“Ah didn’t get this cutie mark stackin’ hay bales,” she said, gesturing to the open, pinkish apple blossom on her rump, with a bud on either side.

“Cool.” Spike turned around and leaned his back against the armchair, warming his chest against the fire. “Will you be successful? Do people need it?”

She wrinkled her nose at him. “Ah get the feelin’ ah could be reasonably profitable.”

“Now…” He looked in her eyes, and she in his. “Will you be happy?”

A brightness sprung to her face, starting in her eyes and extending to her gradually perking ears. She leaned her head forward in a gentle nod. “Yes. Ah think ah will.”

Spike snapped his fingers. “Welp, I guess it’s up to you to decide the best way to go. But if you want my advice”—he winked at her—“take the plunge.”

He slid up into the easychair and leaned on the armrest. “So, you said there were a couple of things, right?”

“Yep.” She bit down on her lower lip, a slight shiver to her forelegs. “It could be even harder, but—but way more wonderful.”

Spike inclined his head. “What is it?”

Apple Bloom propped her hooves on the armrest, leaned her long neck over the gap between the seats, and touched her lips to his.

The taste of cinnamon swirled with the smell of smoke. Lightning flashed and fire roared across their lips. The howling gale outside was drowned beneath the blood thumping in their ears. Breath left them in a gasp.

Spike kissed back.

Spike stopped.

He edged away from Apple Bloom, his chest heaving. His jaw hung loose. His eyes opened wide. A tear dripped down his cheek. “Oh no.”

The blissful smile on Apple Bloom’s face vanished, replaced with a furrowed brow. “What’s wrong, Spike?”

Each word took a full breath from Spike’s lungs. “I… Can’t…”

She reached for his cheek to wipe his tear away. “Hay. Hay, it’s okay—Ouch!” The hot dragon tear stung her hoof. She drew it back in a rush to suck on it.

“I’m sorry,” Spike huffed. “I-I’m sorry.”

“Hay, you didn’t mean nothin’.” Apple Bloom waved the hoof, cooling it with air. “Ain’t your fault your tears are hot as Tar—”

“No.” Spike’s claws clenched around the soft armrest. His nails dug into the fabric, tearing it little by little. “I mean… I’m sorry… I can’t… I can’t…”

Tears trickled from the corners of his eyes, sizzling on their way down. “I… can’t… love you.”

Apple Bloom shrunk into the couch, her ears low and her shoulders sagging. “Huh?” she squeaked.

“I can’t love you like I should,” he said breathlessly. “I… I’m a dragon, Apple Bloom.”

Apple Bloom swallowed air. The voice that came from her mouth was barely a whisper. “Why not?”

“I-I-I’m a dragon. I’m… strong enough to break an oak table by accident. Strong enough to hurt ponies badly.” He held his hands out and stared at them as if he had never seen them before. Air flowed from his lungs in a stuttering mess. “My breath is f-fire and my jaw is a jackhammer. M-my hide is armor. My claws are knives. My scales… I c-could knock you across the room and not even feel it.”

Apple Bloom blinked back the tears stinging her eyes. “Spike, now hold on—”

“I’ve hurt ponies already, Apple Bloom,” Spike said, his voice cracking. “I can’t hurt you, too!”

The windows shook in the heavy silence. The fire dimmed, casting deep shadows around them. Spike avoided Apple Bloom’s eyes while she searched for his.

“Spike,” she said at last, “you’re the most gentle dragon ah know. The kindest, wisest, most loyal dragon in all Equestria.”

“That doesn’t count for much,” Spike croaked. He rubbed his eyes and carried his hands up to his forehead. “I’m still a dragon. Either that or I’m the scariest, most dangerous pony in Equestria.”

“You’re more’n that.” Apple Bloom stood up. She reached for his hand. “You’re so much more—”

Spike jerked his hand away. “Don’t. Please. I don’t wanna… I could…”

Apple Bloom jutted her chin out. “Are you tellin’ me that right here, right now, if we’re holdin’ hooves, you couldn’t help accidently hurtin’ me at all?”

“I…” Spike’s cheek twitched. “I wouldn’t mean to.”

“Right, because you’d be careful, and you’d be carin’, and you’d be lovin’, like you always are.” She grasped his hand between her hooves. “Stop thinkin’ of yourself like a walkin’ death trap! ’Cause you ain’t.”

He rubbed her hoof with his thumb. He sucked in a breath through his nose and let it go as a sigh. “I can’t love you like I should, though. I’m so… we couldn’t even… It’s dangerous to kiss, let alone hug or… uh…”

Apple Bloom skewed her muzzle. “Last ah checked, love was a little more’n just kissin’, huggin’, and makin’ babies.”

“Yes. Yes, it is.” Spike wiped a new tear from his face. “But you can’t say they aren’t important, can you?”

She didn’t move her hoof away from his hands, but she did turn her head to the side. “No, ah can’t.”

“Apple Bloom, I can love you as a friend.” Spike coughed to clear his constricting throat. “I will be your friend for as long as I live. But… I can’t be in that kind of relationship with you. I wouldn’t be able to—”

“—love me like you should?” Apple Bloom finally let her hoof drop to the floor. “Ah’m startin’ to get the signal.”

Spike clutched his hands together and snapped his eyes shut as tight as they would go. “I’m sorry.”

“Ah’m sorry, too,” Apple Bloom said with a heavy voice. “Ah… ah think…”

She walked to the staircase with a loose, limp gait. “Ah think I’ll head up to the guest room f-for the night.” A low whine escaped her throat. Her face twisted into a pained sob. She rushed upwards to hide her tears. “Ah-ah got a l-lot to think abou—”

Spike remained as he was, seated in the easychair with his tears held at bay, until he heard the guest room door slam shut. He gathered up the dirty plates without a word, washed them with equal quiet, and then wrapped the rest of the pie in foil.

Owloysius gave him an interrogating “Hoot?” but Spike had no answer.

Author's Note

Don't hate me just yet, there's still one more chapter. Plus an epilogue.

Next update is Friday.

The Rarity of Happy Endings

The sun cast a yellow pallor over a barren Ponyville. A hot breeze tore at the dry grass, turning it to dust and ashes. Spike’s short leg fell into a pothole in the dirt road. He collapsed to his knees and cradled the sprain.

The baby dragon hefted himself to his feet, careful to keep his weight off his tender ankle. He reached his hand out to lean against a nearby house, as pale and bland as the rest of the town.

“Twilight?” he called into the dust-blown air. “Rarity? Anypony!”

His voice echoed far and wide, but received no answer.

He rounded a corner, bringing a familiar building into view. It was the old Golden Oaks Library. It stood tall, its branches full of the many-colored leaves of fall. Firelight spilled from the open door, warm and welcoming, a heavy contrast to his bleak surroundings.

He smiled and reached out for the library. “Twilight?”

A shock ran through the earth, knocking him to his knees. Downtown, the clock tower shuddered, the bell inside giving a mournful peal. The breeze died completely, leaving the dust to hang in the air like harsh fog.

Spike clenched his claws in the loose soil. He pushed himself up, ignoring the throb in his ankle. He crawled on all fours towards the light in the tree. Each step took an hour, but he reached the door in less than a moment.

The claw of a strong teenage dragon gripped the handle. Spike looked down at himself to see sinew, muscles, hard scales, everything he knew his body to have. He nodded to himself and strode inside.

The warm, inviting fire was gone. In its place was a dark library, full of undisturbed cobwebs and unopened books. His ears fell. “Twilight?”

He waddled across the foyer and came to the staircase. He strained for any sign of anypony. His eyes widened at the sound of a faint cough. His claws scraped against the stairs as he hauled himself upward, the pain in his leg long forgotten. He burst into the upstairs loft, the place where Twilight kept her personal, private library. A short climb up a ladder later, he was beside her bed.

An alicorn did not lie before him, but a small, unsure unicorn mare. She was as covered with dust and grime as the rest of the town. Her mane was tossed around the pillow, her cheeks damp with tears and her flanks bereft of cutie marks.

The earth shook again, followed by the same loud clang of the clock tower bell.

“Twilight?” Spike said. “Are you okay?”

“It’s over,” she croaked. “They’re gone. Forever.”

“W-what?” Spike reached for Twilight, but stopped short of resting his hand on her shoulder. “Who?”

“Everypony. All of them. Gone.” Twilight stared out the window into the yellowed world beyond. “No magic. No friendship. It’s gone.”

“W-wait, that doesn’t make sense!” Spike rounded the bed and placed himself between the window and Twilight. She looked straight through him. “We’re all fine! We’re all here! Well…” He looked to the side. “R-Rainbow’s with the Wonderbolts and Rarity lives in Canterlot… But we’re all still friends. It’s all okay, Twilight.”

Her violet eye leaped up to meet his green. “If everything is okay, why are you hiding?”

The tree wobbled in the wake of another quake. The town bell rang once, then twice.

Spike gripped the edge of her bed. “I’m not hiding! I’m… I’m here to help you! Like I always do! It’s what I’m here for. It’s what I’ve always been here for.”

She shook her head. “But you can’t help me, Spike. It’s already too late.”

The earth shuddered and did not stop. The bell pealed loud and long, over and over again. The dust churned outside the window. Houses collapsed and carts were overturned.

“You could never help me,” Twilight whispered. “There wasn’t anything you could do.”

“No!” Spike roared. “I’ll always be there for you!”

“No.” Twilight raised a weak hoof. “He’s already here.”

Spike turned to the window. Through the shattered town, past the clanging bell, over the dust hills, a silhouette within the swirling dust, walked a massive, mountainous centaur. “No… Tirek…”

But it was not Tirek.

Spike followed the towering horse legs up to the broad minotaur’s chest. Rather than Tirek’s yellow eyes lying in the midst of the horned head, there were two greedy green eyes glowing through the fog.

“Mine.”

Ka-clang

Spike grabbed Twilight in his strong arms and carried her across the loft. The tree shivered and sent him to the floor. Twilight yelped as she rolled away from him. He reached for her, but could not grasp her.

Ka-clang

Spike looked through the window to see a wall of fire bearing down on the Golden Oaks Library. He made one last desperate attempt to drag Twilight from the house.

Ka-clang

Wood splintered. Fabric burned. Chairs became toothpicks. Books became ash.

Ka-clang

***

“No!”

Spike tore through his sheets in his desperation to escape the dream. His nightstand crashed when an errant tail-swipe knocked it over. He clenched his fists and slammed them down, cracking the floorboards.

He heaved in deep breaths, resting in the ruined remains of his nest. A faint smell of acrid smoke touched his nose. He looked up at the minor blaze that was licking at his drapes. He reached up and tore the fabric away from the window, where he could stomp out the flames.

The door opened behind him. His muscles tensed as he stood ramrod straight. He spent a moment steadying his pulse from its rapid fire pace.

“Spike?” Apple Bloom said. “Are you—are you hurt? Ah heard… shoutin’ an’ thought you might need—”

“I’m fine,” he said, his voice hoarse. “It was just a nightmare. A bad dream.”

She looked from the smoldering curtains to the shredded sheets to the collapsed nightstand. “This happen often?”

The low temperature of the room caught up with Spike’s senses. He knelt down, his arms wrapped around his torso. He gathered up the remains of his blankets and wrapped them around his shoulders. “Every night.”

Apple Bloom’s legs shuddered. She laid her hooves on Spike’s shoulders and edged him to the door. “Come on, let’s get you someplace warm.” She sent a quick glare at the window. She slapped a hoof to her forehead. “No wonder it’s so cold in here, the linin’ of the window’s come away. Don’t worry, ah’ll get that fixed up first thing t’morrow.”

“Th-thanks.”

Apple Bloom followed behind the slowly lumbering dragon. “If it’s so dadgum cold in here, why don’t yah sleep in a different room?”

Spike blinked the dampness from his eyes. “I can see the palace from here.”

The storm was long gone, replaced by clear skies and gentle snowfall. Ponyville’s castle glimmered in the moonlight, reflecting the stars. The town slept below it, as if it was lying safe beneath its wings. The smooth snowdrifts shone like diamonds in the streets.

“How long’s it been since you went to see her?” Apple Bloom asked quietly.

“Last week,” Spike muttered. “I never stopped visiting.”

Apple Bloom rested her cheek against his shoulder, following his gaze to the silvery palace. “But you never stayed?”

“Mmrph.” Spike bit his tongue and stumbled into the hallway. He took the stairs at a slow, even pace. “I can’t help her. I’m no use. I can’t heal her, or take the pain away, or bring her voice back…”

He stopped once he reached the ground floor. He looked around at the towering bookshelves, filled to the brim with knowledge new and ancient. Wisdom both timeless and memorable. Full of laughter and tears and longing and hope. He spread his arms. “All this, and I have nothing to offer.”

Apple Bloom tiptoed behind him. “But maybe you don’t—”

“What good am I,” Spike cried out, “if I can’t help?”

Apple Bloom stomped a hoof. “Helpin’ don’t always mean fixin’!”

He jerked his head around. “Wha—?”

“When Granny Smith took ill, ah stuck around.” Apple Bloom sat down hard. She brushed her wild, slept-on mane with the tips of her hooves, but it sprung back up all the same. “Ah couldn’t cure her, and nopony else could, neither. She’d just… done run out of steam.” She shook her head and met Spike’s gaze. “Ah couldn’t leave her, wouldn’t be right. So ah just tried to be the best darn granddaughter ever. An’ just—”

She pressed her lips tight. A snuffle later, she continued. “An’ just b’fore she died, she took me close an’ said ‘Apple Bloom, you three were what made life worth livin’. Now live yours.’”

Spike tapped his clawtips together. “I’m sorry.”

“Thanks.” Apple Bloom wiped her nose. “But—but do you see what ah’m gettin’ at? Do you understand what sorta difference you can make just by bein’ there? Ah couldn’t make Granny better, but I made her happier.”

Spike clutched the edges of his makeshift shawl. “Yeah.”

“It’s gotta count for somethin’.” Apple Bloom scrunched her muzzle. “It does too count for somethin’!”

She let her head droop. “Don’t it?”

Spike reached out. He touched a clawtip to the bottom of Apple Bloom’s chin and lifted her eyes to his. He gave her the best smile that he had available. “It sure does.”

She reached up. She rested her hoof on the side of his hand. She conjured up a small smile just for him. “Ah’ll be your friend, too, Spike. For as long as ah’m able.”

“Thank you,” he said. “That means a lot to me. It’s just”—he gritted his teeth—“it’s not fair.”

“That’s life, ain’t it?” She pulled him towards the den. “Come on, time we both got some real rest.”

A flutter of wings preceded Owloysius’ arrival. He perched atop Spike’s head and blinked at Apple Bloom. “Hoo, hoo, hoo?”

“We’re fine,” Spike said. He scratched the old owl behind the ears. “Is it okay if we sleep in the reading nook? It’s kinda cold upstairs.”

Owloysius gave them a lively “Hoot!” and soared off between the shelves.

Apple Bloom lifted an inquisitive eyebrow. “Can you really speak bird?”

“I can get the gist of it.” Spike watched her lower herself gently into the same couch. He sucked in a deep breath. “I’m sorry.”

She nestled her head into the crook of the armrest. “Ah am, too. But ah meant what ah said about bein’ your friend.”

He lay down before the hearth. He watched the dim embers glow beneath the ashes. “I meant what I said, too.”

She snuggled herself into the cushions. “Good night, Spike.”

His eyelids dipped down. “Good night, Apple Bloom.”

***

Spike stood at the foot of the castle gates. The doors rose high enough to admit a full-grown dragon, though the hallway just inside wasn’t nearly wide enough to be comfortable. Some would call it a design flaw, and some would call it obnoxious.

Spike would call it intimidating.

“So what’s the holdup?” Apple Bloom said. She stood beside him, her checkered coat zipped tight and her trapper cap warming her ears. Her cart sat some distance away, uncovered but immobile in the deep snow. “Y’ wanna see Twilight, don’t yah?”

“Yeah…” Spike shifted his weight from the left to the right. “I’m just not sure what to say.”

“Easiest thing would be to just tell her how you feel.” Apple Bloom hooked his elbow in her foreleg and gave him a tug. “Once that’s on the table, y’all can figure out where to take it from there.”

Spike grimaced. “Talking about feelings is never easy. Mostly because the other person rarely gets it.”

“But this isn’t just any ol’ person. It’s Twilight.” Apple Bloom jerked her head to the door. “You and she kinda know each other. Just a little.”

A sly smile spread across her face. “You want mah advice? Take th’ plunge.”

Spike turned beady eyes to the tall mare. “Oh, you are devious.”

“Ah have moments.” She released him and took a step towards her cart. “You go for it. Ah’ll be here when you’re finished. If you need somepony to talk to.”

Spike gave her a casual salute. “Thanks.”

He pushed the doors open and entered the long hallway. He crawled on all fours, moving at a quick walk, giving the stained-crystal windows half a glance. He’d seen those symbols a hundred times, not only as windows, but as gemstones on the Elements of Harmony. Relics from a time that seemed so long ago.

Ten years was a long, long time, he decided.

He passed through the throne room, moving between the seven thrones placed in an equidistant circle. Equidistant, save for the small throne he once held beside Twilight’s spangled chair. Each pony’s sigil lay atop the back of their respective seat. A butterfly for Fluttershy, a lightning bolt for Rainbow Dash, an apple for Applejack, a balloon for Pinkie Pie, a star for Twilight, and a diamond for—

“Hello, Precious Scales.”

Spike turned his head. Walking in the other direction, around the edge of the thrones, was a soft, white mare in a warm, fuzzy coat. “Rarity?”

He skittered up to her. He looked down with a smile and reached for her hoof, but held himself back from actually making contact. “Rarity! I didn’t expect to see you in Ponyville! How are you doing?”

A flash of her horn adjusted the tiny spectacles sitting on her nose. She tossed her curled mane with practiced ease. “I would be doing a great deal better had I not decided to visit during an uncontrollable monster of a blizzard. My train was delayed a total of five times, got stuck an hour after we actually got rolling, and then allowed itself to be waylaid by a storm I haven’t seen the likes of since…” She tilted her head to stare at the ceiling. “Well…”

“The Crystal Empire?” Spike asked.

“My thought exactly!” She rubbed his arm with the side of her hoof. “But enough about my woes with the railroad, what about you? Catching the eye of any lady-dragons lately?”

“Uh…” Spike’s inward wince managed to make its way to his face. “Not exactly.”

Rarity’s smile shrunk into a small frown. She sat alongside her throne and raised a hoof to his cheek. “Are you alright, Spike? Do you want to talk about it?”

He sat against the throne beside hers. He scratched his claw into the crystalline floor. “It’s… really, really complicated.”

“Matters of the heart, darling, are never a small, simple matter.” Rarity sat with her eyes trained on his and her ears perked.

Spike clutched his tail. “I’ve been having nightmares since Twilight got hurt.”

Rarity’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “But that’s been nearly five months! Have you spoken with Luna about them?”

“Yes, and she can’t intervene. Not directly.” Spike nibbled the side of his lip. “They’re my nightmares, and they’re given power by my own… issues.”

“Hmm.” Rarity smirked halfheartedly. “Not all demons are from Hell, it seems. Do you know what’s causing the nightmares? Anything at all?”

“In all of them,” Spike said, “every single one, I’m helpless to save Twilight from something.”

“Oh.” Rarity touched her lip. “Oh my. Spike, you know there was nothing you could have done to—”

“Yes. Yes, Rarity, I do.” Spike kept his voice level and even. “That’s the problem.”

“Of course,” Rarity said in a hushed voice. “Of course it is. Do—” She paused a moment to collect her thoughts. “Do you know what to do about it?”

“No.” Spike scratched dead scales loose from his forearm. He held one between his clawtips to give himself something to fiddle with. “But I’m here to talk to Twilight about it. Maybe we can figure something out together.”

“A wise thought,” Rarity said, her smile returning at last.

“But… there’s another thing.” Spike felt the muscles on his back tense one by one. “Last night, somepony told me that they care about me. Like, really care.”

“And by ‘really care,’ you mean—”

“She kissed me.”

Rarity opened her mouth with a pop. “Ah.”

She fidgeted with the hem of her fuzzy coat. “You… I suppose you told her the same thing—?”

“The same thing that I told you.” Spike struggled to swallow down the lump in his throat. “Yeah,” he squeaked out.

Rarity’s pale face turned a pretty shade of pink. She pressed her lips tight before replying. “I’m sorry, Spike. It wasn’t any easier this time, was it?”

“No.” Spike clenched his hands tight. “It was awful. For her, too.”

Rarity gasped. “Oh dear, how did she take it?”

“About as well as you did. Maybe even better.” Spike shrugged. “She’s already on speaking terms with me.”

“A stronger mare than I was, indeed.” Rarity chuckled dryly.

Spike noted the slack expression overtaking the curly-maned mare’s face. “She reminds me a lot of you.”

Rarity raised her chin. “Hmm?”

“She doesn’t want to be carried on the backs of others. She wants to forge her own path.”

Rarity leaned back and patted her curl. “Then the pretty face is just window dressing, is it?”

“Pretty mares, handsome stallions, they’re a bit a dozen,” Spike said. “It’s rare to find someone with a beautiful heart.”

Rarity laughed with a touch more humor than before. “Always the flatterer. How will you handle the situation?”

“Like a lot of things, the same way we did. We’re friends.” He held his open palms out. “And nothing’s gonna change that now.”

“Well then.” Rarity stood up and straightened her coat. “One problem from the pile is being adjusted, another is on its way…” Her eyes sparkled in the light of the glowing crystal. “It sounds like you at the very least know what you’re doing.”

She stood on her hind legs, resting her forehooves on his arm. She placed a soft kiss on his cheek. “I love you, Spike. Don’t forget it.”

He gave her a sad smile. “I love you, too, Rarity.”

She dropped to the floor and set off at a brisk trot. “I’ll be staying in Ponyville for a few days, so expect me to visit for real at least once. Perhaps we should catch a Ponytones concert together! I hear Featherweight is making waves with that voice of his.”

She peered over her shoulder, her mane bouncing with life. “And Spike, Twilight will be very happy to see you. Ta-ta.”

“Ta-ta.”

Spike flicked the dislocated scale into the shadows, where it would be either be picked up by a broom or remain hidden for as long as the castle stood. One of the two.

Twilight was where he usually found her: Perusing the library. Her newly-expanded personal library. She sat in the middle of a grand pile of books, reading and taking notes and cross-referencing all at once. Pens flew in her magic grip. Ink sank into the fibers of the paper. Words took shape and pictures took form.

Twilight looked up. She straightened her long legs and hurried across the room to greet him. Her face lit up in an explosion of unsung laughter. She wrapped her wings around him in a joyous greeting, squeezing him tight for a wonderful moment.

When she pulled back, she smiled at him. She did her best not to draw attention to the scarf she always wore around her neck. She adjusted it with a quick spell, covering the horrifying scar that ran across her throat.

Spike noticed it, of course, but he pretended he didn’t.

She pulled him along to the center of her parade of tomes and scrolls. She lifted a small, purple book in her magic and held it open to a specific page.

He squinted at it before recognition touched his mind. “Sunset Shimmer’s diary? You got it to work again?”

Twilight bobbed her head. She scribbled on a piece of scrap paper and handed it to him. He took it and eyed the text.

I’ve been working on it since the Hurricane incident last year. We’re officially getting messages back and forth from the mirror world again. Sunset finally landed that teaching job, so life’s good for her.

Spike laughed and set the message down. “That’s great, Twilight. I was pretty worried about her. But…”

Twilight shifted an ear in his direction.

“But… can we talk about something?”

Twilight raised a wry eyebrow.

Spike sucked in a breath. He rubbed the bridge of his nose and let out a deep huff. “You know what I mean.”

She giggled silently. She scribbled out a quick sentence: I have to keep my humor about it, you know.

“Yeah, I know.” Spike’s mouth grew into a predatory grin. “I’m just glad you’re such a good listener.”

She blew a raspberry at him.

“Yeah.” Spike popped a knuckle and regretted it a moment later. He rubbed his hand to ease the pain. “You… you remember the nightmares I had after the attack?”

Twilight’s research project stopped swirling around the room. The individual items flitted to their assigned places, packing themselves away, guided by a lavender glow. She grabbed his hand with a hoof and leaned forward, her face attentive.

“Th-they never went away.” He set his jaw against the sting behind his eyes. “I decided to move to the library because… because I thought it might help. Or at least… wouldn’t bug you…”

Twilight sat beside Spike and wrapped her wing around the much larger creature. Unlike her excited hug of greeting, this was a slower, firmer embrace.

“But… they’re always the same.” Spike’s hands trembled. “You’re always in trouble, and I’m always powerless to help you. It never changes.”

Spike looked down, and Twilight looked up. “I don’t know what to do,” he said.

Twilight Sparkle frowned deep and dim. She leaned the side of her head against his arm and summoned a page and quill to her side. She scribed a letter to him with swift pen strokes. Spike watched her write it from over her shoulder.

Spike, you have always been there for me. Even when we were far apart, we were never far from each other’s heart. There is no task, no job, no trial that I cannot trust you to complete to the best of your ability. And truly, I have come across no better than your best. Even in my darkest hours, you have always been a light in the shadows, bringing me hope. I wish I could take away your pain, but what I have, I give to you.

I impart the knowledge that you are, and always will be, my Number One Assistant, and that is above and beyond what I could ever ask for.

She gave him a lopsided grin.

Sappy enough for yah?

Spike exhaled a giggling explosion of relaxing muscles and eased nerves. The merriment continued like aftershocks of an earthquake. “Twi, for you, I think that’s exactly the right amount of sap.”

She turned the page over and added a note. So does this mean you’re moving back into the castle?

“Would I even be able to find my room anymore?” Spike looked around. The library alone had ten entrances from various hallways. “Nah. I think it’s best if I stay at the library.”

Twilight’s face fell, but she nodded all the same. Ponyville needs its librarian, after all.

Spike pulled his lips back in a false grin. “Hay, it’s a living. I still wanna start helping you again.”

Twilight lifted her research project, all twenty volumes of it, in a ready bubble of magic. She smiled brightly, her eyes shining.

“But I can’t today.” Spike shrugged. “I’ve got things I need to take care of. At the library.”

She puckered her lips and dropped the books en masse.

Spike stood up on his hind legs and stretched. “But the library’s closed tomorrow. How’s that sound? I’ll just jaunt over here and we’ll figure out what’s up in Sunset’s universe.”

Twilight clomped her hooves together even as she wrote her reply. Most excellent! It’s good to have you back, Spike.

Spike took the feather pen in his claws. He dipped it in ink and answered on the same page. It’s good to be back.

***

Apple Bloom smiled when he walked back through the front doors. She’d spent his time in the castle clearing the snow around her pie cart, giving it a space to sit, if not a road to travel. “How’d it go?”

“Pretty good,” he said. He tapped his toes on the icy ground while she slid into her yoke. “I’m gonna be spending more time around here, at least.”

“Good. Ah think that’s what you needed.” She pulled against her yoke, edging the cart forward. “Little help? Ah ought to be good once ah hit Mane Street.”

“Sure.” He took one long step around to the back. He pressed his shoulder against it, which gave Apple Bloom the leverage needed to move the cart across the snowdrifts. “And thanks.”

She slammed powerful legs into the snow, all but dragging herself along. She tossed her head and blew a hefty snort though her nostrils. “For what?” she grunted.

“For—” Spike heaved a wagon wheel over a stubborn hump in the road. “For the vote of confidence. For the moral support. For the—heaugh!—understanding ear.”

“What was ah supposed to do? Let you wallow in self-depreciation?” She kicked at the snow that was building up in front of the wheels. “You’re too important tah let yourself get in a mood like that.”

They reached the largest street of the town. It turned into a road that lead out of Ponyville, towards the farm that had started it all. The plow-ponies had already cleared it of fluffy whiteness, leaving it a slick layer of packed ice.

Spike crossed his forelegs. “If Rainbow Dash was still captain, they would have already gritted the road with sand.”

“Nah. Clogs up the storm drains.” Apple Bloom lifted her chin and pulled her cheek back. “So… See you around?”

“Yeah. Definitely.” Spike lightly wrung the tip of his tail in his hands. “You sure you don’t need me to walk you home?”

She clicked her tongue and rolled her eyes. “Gosh, could you stop bein’ charmin’ for just a minute?”

Spike sucked in his lips. He shivered as a cold breeze blew over his scales. He thought about a reply, but only came up with a shrug.

Apple Bloom’s ears dipped below the edge of her hat. “Y’know, actually… Aw heck, don’t ever stop bein’ charmin’, Spike. It’s who you are. Or it should be.” She shuffled her hooves as the happy laughter of children playing on an unexpected snow day grew in strength. “Just don’t be a stranger, okay?”

Spike gripped his fist tight. He bared his teeth. “There aren’t many stranger than me.”

“You live in the same town as Discord. He’s always got you beat.” She stretched her neck back, taking a gander at the white clouds being moved around by weatherponies. She rolled her shoulders and glared straight ahead. She rolled along at a brisk pace through the equally brisk air. “Take care.”

Spike waved halfheartedly. He turned around to head back to the library, but paused. He set his jaw and slapped his tail against the ground. “‘Take the plunge,’ huh?”

He spun on his heel and ran to catch up with the retreating cart. “Apple Bloom! Wait!”

Her ears stood straight up. She gave him her attention, her brow low and her mouth a grim line. He skidded on the ice, sliding a few meters past her and only stopping once he stabbed his toe-tips into the road. He leaned against her cart, his heart racing, his knees knocking.

“Y—you, um…” He tugged at the collar of his poofy coat. “I just wanted you to know that if you need anything, all you have to do is ask.”

She gave him a curt nod. “That’s very kind of you.”

“And—and whenever… however…” He gestured at his body. “If we ever get this mess figured out, or—or figure out how to… if it would be safe… if you—’cuz you’re… I’d want to—you’re super—um…”

Apple Bloom ducked her head down, bringing it below Spike’s. She hunched her shoulders in a lackluster effort to hide her blush. “So… you’re sayin’ there’s a chance?”

“I’m saying I’d take the chance. Once we find it. You know?” He looked down at his intertwined fingers. “It’s… easy to see that you’re worth the wait.”

Apple Bloom brought her hoof to his cheek. Her amber eyes blinked away a snowflake. “You are, too.”

She placed a tiny kiss on his nose. It was with a higher head that she rolled down the road to Sweet Apple Acres.

Spike rubbed the spot her lips had touched. He waddled his way back to the Seeds of Friendship Public Library, a goofy grin across his face.

***

Spike jolted awake. There was no chill crawling its way across his skin. There was no clawing sense of evil in the darkness. Apple Bloom’s seal on the window held firm, trapping the heat from the hearth within the house.

Spike brought his hands up to wipe his damp cheeks. Afterimages of his latest nightmare flickered in the shadows cast by the moonlight. An invasion, a legion of monsters, Twilight sealed away where she could never be found.

And him. Alone.

His heart skipped a beat. He drew his linens tight around his shoulders and reached for the candle. A quick huff brought the flame to life. It danced over the book he’d set beside his nest in preparation for a long night’s read.

He breathed a sigh of relief that he hadn’t destroyed his bedspread this time.

“Fire in the Mountain,” he muttered, “by Twilight Sparkle.”

He supposed it was true that he’d already read the book several times. Twice in the last week, in fact. He was actually pretty close to memorizing it. If not word for word, then at least scene by scene. There was something about it. Something that touched close to home. Something to brighten the fire in his heart.

“In hindsight, Lilliput wasn’t cut out for farming potatoes. She hated dirt, and potatoes just so happened to spend a lot of time around it. They were planted in dirt, they grew in dirt, and they were harvested from dirt. It matted her mane. It dirtied her tail. It muddied her hooves. She threw her head back and asked just why she subjected herself to it.”

Spike gave the book a familiar wink as he reached the answer. “‘Because misery loves company,’ chuckled Swiftly. Lilliput swatted the pegasus and pulled up the next tuber in line.”

Spike traced the words as the story continued. The friends playfully harvested the crop. But then the earth shook. The sky darkened as they headed back to the farmhouse. The world turned upside down when a vicious beast charged across the landscape and scooped Swiftly up in its mighty jaws. Lilliput could do no less than set out on a heroic quest to rescue the kidnapped pony. She grew along the way, until the final confrontation had her stand up tall against the beastly creature and cow it. To downright impress it.

Spike rubbed his eyes free of crust. He blinked at the melting candle with a faint frown.

Twilight Sparkle loved happy endings.

He blew the fire out and brought the covers over his head.

“Mine's coming. I know it is.”

Author's Note

Expect the next update (le Epilogue) next week Tuesday. We'll be seeing the Crusaders, some colts, and a very special guest star.

The Aftermath

First Contact

The wind roared outside Carousel Boutique, Ponyville Branch. Sweetie Belle, on the other hoof, was warm and cozy within her combined home and store. She alternated between checking her soup and adjusting her latest design, scurrying between rooms every few minutes. Spring was on its way, and with it a whole new season of fashion. Also on their way were the other two thirds of the former Cutie Mark Crusaders. Though they rarely entertained ideas of high society, Sweetie Belle was there to make sure they had the occasional taste of class.

Thus, the candlelit formal dinner she had invited them to.

The soup was boiling nicely and smelled divine, even if she said so herself. She rested her frameless glasses on the countertop and looked in the small mirror she had set up. She scrunched her muzzle and stared forlornly at the container of contact lenses she had ordered for a special occasion. She levitated a tiny lens and glared at it. “What shall it be, compatriot? Are you in or out?”

The emotionless contact lens had nothing to say.

Sweetie held her eye open with two hooves while she inched the darn thing closer and closer to the surface of her eye. She hit it wrong, eliciting a painful sting. It wasn’t until her third try that she managed to firmly plant it in its assigned place. She blinked rapidly to get her tears flowing.

“Yech. This is why I wear glasses.”

A hoof rapped the door in desperation. Sweetie Belle’s head bobbed up, her eyes wide. “Dang!” She checked the clock. “Dang!” She looked down at the second contact lens, as yet unapplied. “Dang, dang!”

Her blue dress swirled around her legs as she rushed from the kitchen to the entryway, the showroom of her boutique. She clasped a silvery necklace and reached for the door, careful to stand out of the way of the snowstorm outside.

Scootaloo, covered head to hoof in snow, tumbled through the opening. She kissed the ground passionately. “Yes! Yes, I am alive! I’m alive!”

“Oh hush.” Sweetie Belle subconsciously squinted one eye in an attempt to focus it. “It’s not even that bad out.” She picked up a towel from across the room. “Let’s get you cleaned up—”

“Gotcha covered,” Scootaloo said. She spread her wings, sucked in a deep breath, and allowed her magic to grasp the individual particles of snow. She rolled them into a ball and chucked the debris outside. She twirled in midair and freed herself from her winter coat, revealing the lavender dress underneath. “Thank yew, thank yew. I’m here all week. You’ve been a wonderful audience.”

Sweetie Belle kicked the door shut. “You’re so full of cheese.”

Scootaloo glided down on purple wings, mismatched from the orange of the rest of her body. She chucked Sweetie’s chin. “So full of cheese that life’s a breeze. And if you please, would you take these?”

Sweetie rolled her eyes, but hung her friend’s coat on a rack all the same. “You’re early.”

“Sorry.” Scootaloo walked sideways, facing Sweetie as the two of them headed for the kitchen. “I just wanted to see if I could help.”

“I, as the hostess, am obligated to treat my guests, not the other way around.” Sweetie stirred the soup, giving it a small taste before adding a pinch of spice. “Call me crazy, but I don’t like either ‘fashionably late’ or ‘early.’”

Scootaloo hovered in the air. The beaded skirt of her dress jangled as she moved. “Like it or not, I’m here, Sweetie. So that means I get to he—”

“Nope.” Sweetie nudged her in the chest. “You’re early, so you get to sit at that table and do nothing until the other guest arrives.”

Scootaloo plopped into her chair, her eyebrows low. She pursed her lips and took a moment to admire her reflection in a spoon. “Yeah, I clean up nicely.”

“Your ego is nearing Rainbow Dash proportions,” Sweetie said. “Be careful you don’t outgrow your own head.”

“I’m just enjoying life to the fullest!” Scootaloo leaned her elbow on the table. “You should try it sometime. It’s nice.”

“Ah, but I thought I was doing that already.” Sweetie smirked. “Successful fashion designer and a burgeoning music career? What could be better?”

“I dunno.” Scootaloo tilted her head. “What could?”

Sweetie looped earrings through the bottoms of her ears. “Friends who arrive on time.”

“Touché.” Scootaloo rubbed her eye. “I’m serious, though. Your frowns are winning the battle to overtake your face.”

Sweetie Belle frowned before she knew what she was doing. Her ear twitched as she forcefully pulled her lips back in a smile. “Is this better?”

“It’s scary, is what it is.” Scootaloo leaned back, her wings flared. “If your goal is to terrify small foals, I’d call it a rousing success.”

Sweetie Belle flicked her tail and turned away. “There’s no pleasing you, is there?”

Scootaloo tapped her hooves together. “Kinda hard to make others happy when you’re not happy.”

“I am happy.” Sweetie grabbed a sewing needle and set about stitching a new addition onto her new dress. “I’m as happy as I darn well please.”

Scootaloo caught a glimmer on the counter. “What’s with the contact lenses?”

“Oh, shoot!” Sweetie Belle hurried over to the mirror. “I can’t very well spend the whole evening with only one—”

A hoof knocked at the door in concert with the rattling windows.

Sweetie glared daggers at the clock. She stomped out of the room, leaving the lenses behind. “I’m buying you both egg timers for Hearth’s Warming!”

Apple Bloom stood on the front porch, shivering in the cold. “Hay, Sweetie Belle. Just wanted to see if ah could help o—”

“Get in.” Sweetie ducked to the side. “Scootaloo’s already here. Welcome to Chateau Belle, enjoy your stay, yadda, yadda.”

Apple Bloom pulled off her overcoat and shook her amber dress free. “Did ah miss somethin’?”

“Hay, AB,” Scootaloo said. “Come join me at the time-out table. It’s for naughty fillies who arrive to parties early.”

“You’re incorrigible.” Sweetie Belle bustled past Apple Bloom, but not before adding a scrap of fabric to the ponnequin sitting in the middle of the showroom floor. “Since you two are here”—she gritted her teeth—“twenty minutes ahead of time, we might as well get started on the sensible conversation.”

“Oui, magnifique,” Scootaloo chuckled. “So what’s new with you, Apple Bloom?”

“Um…” Apple Bloom took a seat. She towered over both the table and the short pegasus sitting across from her. “Ah kinda… took your advice.”

Sweetie Belle’s blood ran cold. “You took advice from Scootaloo?” She turned her one wide eye and one narrow eye on the earth pony mare. “What sort of advice?”

“Uh, yeah…” Scootaloo folded her wings tight against her back. “Not that I ain’t a fountain of wisdom, but… well, I ain’t. What did you do?”

“Like you said.” Apple Bloom swallowed hard. “I went right up to Spike, told him what I thought, and kissed him smack dab on the lips.”

There was silence in the kitchen, save for the boiling of the pot.

“That… is… awesome!” Scootaloo spread her wings wide. “I knew you could do it, AB!”

“Wait a minute…” Sweetie Belle waved her legs in front of her face. “Wait, can we rewind to the part where you like Sp—?” She fought down the wave of confusion boiling up in her stomach. “Spike?”

Apple Bloom shrugged. “Well, it all started back when ah—”

“No, no, hold up.” Sweetie rolled a hoof. “Let’s rewind to the part where you went to Scootaloo, for relationship advice.”

Apple Bloom crossed her forelegs. “She’s the only one outta us who’s ever gone steady.”

Scootaloo gave them both a sage nod.

“Alrighty, then.” Sweetie Belle blew a tiny breath between her lips. “You do know… you do know that Spike is a dragon, right?”

“Believe you me,” Apple Bloom said, “that much is painfully apparent.”

“I never took you for the… cross-species type.” Sweetie fidgeted with the hem of her dress. “It’s not… it’s…”

“Aw, come on, now.” Apple Bloom thumped the table, jingling the dishes. “You can’t tell me that if Spike was a pony, you wouldn’t be all over him.”

“I don’t really think it’s that—” Still, Sweetie Belle envisioned Spike as a pony. She saw muscular legs, tall stature, shining eyes, a wonderful smile, a chivalrous attitude, a royal purple coat…

The stove seemed to be much warmer, now that she thought about it.

“Um.” Scootaloo looked away, her cheeks purple. “He’s no Rumble.”

“Now you’re seein’ it.” Apple Bloom slumped down until her chin touched the tablecloth. “But you’re right about the whole ‘dragon’ thing bein’ a problem. He’s downright afraid of hurtin’ me.”

“So he does like you back.” Scootaloo’s eyebrows danced.

“Well, yeah, he said as much.” Apple Bloom covered her eyes with a limp foreleg. “Ah dunno what to do.”

Scootaloo tapped her chin. “So is he afraid of hurting you physically, emotionally, or—”

“He accidently smashed a table into tiny bits by bumpin’ it with his fist,” Apple Bloom said.

Sweetie’s ears stood straight up. “That would put a damper on the evening.”

“No kiddin’?” Apple Bloom sat up and adjusted the top of her dress. “It’s like… No matter how close we could get emotionally, there would always be somethin’… between us. Physically.”

Scootaloo frowned. She pushed herself away from the table and came to lay a hoof on Apple Bloom’s back. “You know, it’s kinda like what’s gonna happen to me and Rumble. He’s gonna be going to guard training, soon.”

Apple Bloom nuzzled her friend’s cheek. “That’s right. When’s he leave?”

“Spring. When a young pony’s fancy turns to thoughts of love. Nothing too terrible.” Scootaloo gave her a halfhearted smile. “But, you know, that’s the way the cookie crumbles. In the mouth. And stuff.”

She rubbed a hoof across her foreleg. “But that’s the thing. We’re gonna be apart, but we’ll find a way to make it work. That’s sorta my thing. Nothing is impossible. And I think it’s the same way for you.”

Apple Bloom grinned at Sweetie Belle. “An’ you wonder why ah went to her for advice?”

“Alright, so Scootaloo has occasional moments of clarity.” Sweetie winked at the pegasus. “The question is, does she have an answer to the conundrum?”

“Well, no…” Scootaloo fluttered the tips of her wings. “I was just gonna have a good old ‘fight it out and don’t let up’ encouragement ready.”

“Oh, good.” Sweetie Belle sampled the soup. “I was wondering where I was going to glean my daily supply of platitudes.”

“Oh, put a sock in it.”

“Fillies,” Apple Bloom said, “restrain yourselves.”

Scootaloo draped her foreleg over the back of her chair. “Restrain myself, huh?”

“Indeed you are correct, Apple Bloom.” Sweetie Belle sucked in a deep breath as she carried three bowls to the pot on a current of magic. “A lady does not stoop to veiled insults and backhanded remarks. I apologize, Scootaloo.”

“Yee…” Scootaloo folded her wings neatly across her back. “All is forgiven. And I’m sorry for not having a solution. But it’s like, nothing worth doing is easy, is what I keep hearing.”

“It’s what you keep saying,” Apple Bloom murmured. “And ah’m startin’ to think it’s true.”

Sweetie Belle set the three soup bowls before their assigned seats. A moment later, she took her own, completing the arrangement. “Transformation wouldn’t work out, then?”

“Ah can’t rightly think of—” Apple Bloom raised an eyebrow as high as it would go. “Come again?”

“Transformation.” Sweetie Belle squinted her eye to focus on lifting her spoon. “Transmogrification, transmutation, metamorphosis, it’s an entire field of magic study. I haven’t bothered to look into it for obvious reasons, but—”

“But it could totally turn Spike into a pony!” Scootaloo shouted. When her friends’ heads snapped around at her outburst, she took it as a sign to continue. “Duh. Twilight spent a whole year studying that field. She’s got to know a thing or two. At least if it’s even possible.”

“Be forewarned of the definition of transmogrification.” Sweetie Belle shuddered, causing her earrings to clang musically. “It includes the words ‘horrific’ and ‘grotesque results.’ It’s not magic that you want to play with willy-nilly.”

“But it is magic that you want to look into.” Scootaloo rubbed her hooves together and cackled. “It’s a love! A love!”

“It’s a crush at this exact moment,” Apple Bloom said. She took a dainty sip of her soup. “An’ ah don’t feel right askin’ Spike to give up part of who he is to be with me. Ah figure there’s a reason he was born a dragon.”

“You should at least speak with Princess Sparkle about it.” Sweetie Belle pointed her spoon. “She’ll help you gauge the risk involved, at the very least. And if you do gain a deeper relationship with Spike…” She let a lavender curl fall over her muzzle to obscure her small smile. “You’ll be family.”

Apple Bloom choked on her most recent mouthful. “Wha—?”

“Princess Apple Bloom Apple of the Ponyville Apples.” Scootaloo pushed her chair back to give a sweeping bow. “It suits you.”

Apple Bloom snickered. She held a foreleg out and raised her nose to the sky. “You have Our permission to kiss the royal hooves.”

“Oh, thank you, Most Magnanimous Magnificence!” Scootaloo took the offered hoof and made monkey lips at it. “Mwa! Mwa! Mwa!”

Sweetie Belle heaved a great, all-encompassing sigh. She leaned both elbows on the table and rested her forehead in her hooves. “So much for the sensible conversation.”

“On the bright side,” Apple Bloom said, “this is th’ most refined an’ dignified ah’ve ever seen Scoots.”

Scootaloo dropped the royal hoof. “I choose to take that as a compliment.”

Apple Bloom laughed. She gave Sweetie Belle a double-take. “Hay, why’re you squintin’ like that? Got sommat in your eye?”

Sweetie Belle threw the contact lenses out the door.

***

Pack Up Your Troubles

Button Mash scurried around his room, setting out chips and sampling the dip. A shock ran from head to tailtip as a startling realization made itself known. “Dang, dang, dang, dang, dangit! They’re gonna be here any minute!” He chewed on the tip of his hoof and took stock of the situation. “Ch-chips chipped. Dip dipped. Couch pillows fluffed. Magiscreen booted up. Five different gaming systems plugged in. Thirty multiplayer games available and sorted to assumed levels of enjoyability.”

He thumped his forehead. “I know I’m forgetting something. I just know I forgot something important. I—”

“Button?” his mother called from upstairs, “there’s ponies at the door looking for you.”

“I forgot to greet them at the door!” Button yelped. “I’m such a terrible host tonight is gonna go horribly I can’t remember my passwords!”

He sucked in a deep breath that filled his lungs to their bursting point. He held that breath until his face went blue, then let it out in a violent whoosh. “Okay. Okay, I can make this work. All I gotta do is—”

“Hay, Button,” Rumble said as he walked down the staircase that led into Button’s room. “Nice place you got here.”

“Aaaah!” Button screeched. “Don’t scare me like that!”

Rumble froze in midstep, his eyes wide. He cautiously opened his mouth. “Okaaay…”

“Sorry, sorry, welcome to Casa de Button. Or whatever.” Button Mash went through his options. He could ask Rumble how his day had been. He could invite him to eat chips or try the homemade dip he’d put together. He could turn on the games.

He could offer all the options at the same time and overwhelm both himself and his guest. That seemed like the best option. Sure.

“How about some chips did you see that storm how’s the dip which game do you wanna play first I got all four Maniacal Melees—”

“Dude.” Rumble placed a hoof over Button’s mouth.

“Mm hmm?” Button Mash said.

“Chill.”

“M’kay.”

Button slumped to his rear legs. “S-sorry. This is, just, my first time throwing any kinda party. At all.”

“Hay, that’s fine.” Rumble hoisted Button to his feet with a single strong foreleg. “You can relax. We’re all here to have a good time.”

“But what if you don’t have a good time and it’s all my fault!” Button grabbed the tips of his ears. “What if you never want to come back?”

Rumble consumed an entire chip towering with spicy taco dip in a single bite. “Then more dip for the smart guys who stick around. You made this stuff?”

“Uh. Yeah. My dad taught me all the family recipes.” Button blushed behind a smile. “T-turns out jalapeno juice flows through our veins.”

Rumble snorted and almost choked on a bean. “Awesome. The other guys better hope they get here quick, or I’m eating it all.”

“Feel free. I got extra.” The creaking of wooden steps drew Button’s ears. “Aha. More ponies I didn’t greet at the door.”

“Not a pony,” Spike said, bending over to see past the basement ceiling, “but close enough.”

“Great to see you made it, bro!” Rumble soared through the air to trade a hoofbump with the dragon. “We’ll make you a socialite yet!”

Spike finished descending the stairs and cast his gaze around the room. He gave a low whistle. “Not bad.”

The couch was wide enough for several ponies and stuffed with an obnoxious amount of pillows. The Magiscreen was a wide-screen, ultra-detailed edition. Tables were set against the walls with various hors d'oeuvres littering their surfaces. Pictures of Button’s family dotted the walls alongside images of various fictional heroes. Carpet covered what would have been a cold cement floor, and dividers were set up as walls between the living area and Button’s bed.

Rumble jutted out his lower lip in appraisal. “I’ll bet it took all your paychecks from the cinema to pay for this stuff.”

“And how,” Button said. “Got a few nice deals, got a little gold squirreled away, but yeah. Stuff is expensive.”

Spike got closer to one shelf. It had a row of ponies on it, carved from wood and painstakingly painted. He pointed a clawtip. “Action figures?”

Button Mash looked up from going through his game selection for the fiftieth time. His eyes widened and his mouth settled into a grin. “Nah. Pull one down and take a closer look.”

Spike reached up, but halted just before touching them. “Um…”

“They’ve been handled by rougher things than a dragon.” Button smoothed down his spiky mane, which promptly jumped back up. “Trust me. The Cake kids got a hold of Jude and Punchy one time.”

Spike took the wood pony in his claws. He lowered it to his eye level to find joints along the legs, at the tail and neck, and one loose hinge for the mouth.

Button Mash attached a cross-shaped piece of wood to his hoof and held it up. “Watch the magic happen.”

The wood pony glowed, and an instant later began to dance in Spike’s hands. The dragon jumped and nearly dropped it. “Holy—!”

“Puppets?” Rumble hovered behind Spike’s shoulder. “You do puppets?”

“Marionettes mostly.” Button guided the puppet to move as if it was talking. The mouth flopped open and closed in near-perfect timing. “It’s how I got my cutie mark. I plan to go into it full-time when I get the chance.”

“Really?” Spike looked at Button’s flank to get a better look at the black plus-sign shape. “I thought it was… um…” He flicked his eyes to the game systems.

“A cutie mark for video games?” Button Mash snickered. “Yeah, no. I suck at them. Doesn’t mean they aren’t fun.”

Rumble chuckled and settled down on the couch. “Says the guy with every high score in the arcade.”

“That’s where the other half of my paychecks went.” Button Mash grimaced. “Mister Red Pixel used to call me ‘One Up’ because I’d bring a hundred coins every time.”

“False humility is still humility. Only, you know, false.” Spike sampled the dip with relish. “Good stuff.”

“I’d say we have enough guys so far for a multiplayer match.” Rumble picked up a controller. “What do you say, Spike? Care to test your mettle in Go-Cart Apocalypse 3?”

Spike looked at his hands. He looked to the tiny, plastic controller. “Um…”

“I’ve got spares if you break one.” Button Mash sucked his cheeks in. “Just, um, try not to break one.”

“It’s not just that.” Spike tapped his clawtips together. “I’ve never played a video game before.”

“What?” Button and Rumble shouted simultaneously. “How?”

“Royal duties,” Spike said, counting down on his hands, “living with a bookaholic who wouldn’t even watch movies until convinced by her friends, constant research projects, and expensive gemstones to snack on…” He swung his tail in a lazy arc. “Neither the time nor the bits.”

“Buddy.” Rumble fluttered up to Spike and took hold of his hands. “Buddy, we will fix this thing for you. You don’t have to live in the dark any longer.”

Button peered over the back of the couch. A tear dripped down his cheek. “It’s so sad to see a childhood missed.”

Spike blinked.

Rumble and Button were able to hold serious faces for about one more second before crumbling in laughter. Rumble lay his foreleg across Spike’s shoulders and led him to the couch. “No big deal, Spike. Butt—hehehehe—Button Mash, what’s a good first game to cut Spike’s eyeteeth on?”

Button shuffled through his options. “Wouldn’t it be an egg tooth for a dragon?”

“Don’t bring up egg teeth to somebody actually born from an egg,” Spike muttered.

Rumble shoved a controller into his hands. “Just focus, and maybe we can make you a force to be reckoned with by the time Pipsqueak, Snips, and Featherweight get here.”

“Unlikely.” A chuckle rose from deep within Spike’s chest. “Man, what am I gonna do when you’re gone?”

Rumble brought his wings back in a shrug. “How the sun and moon manage to rise without my direct intervention, I’ll never know.”

Button flipped the switch on his vintage Altai 2600. Two white lines sat on either side of the screen. He rubbed his chin. “Hay. That’s right. You’re gonna head off to Guard training pretty soon, aren’t you?”

“Soon as winter’s wrapped up.” Rumble spread his wings and puffed his chest out. “I’m going to be using the same facilities they use for the Wonderbolts Reserves Tryouts.”

Spike scratched his elbow. He pushed a button, but the white lines on the screen didn’t move. “Then all you gotta do is survive Basic.”

“If you can find a sergeant scarier than living with Cloudkicker, I’d love to compare notes.” Rumble’s tail fidgeted behind his back. “I’m not looking forward to having my head chewed off, but this is important to me. I’ll be making a real difference, you know?”

Spike nodded as he grabbed the joystick Button handed to him. “You looking to take over my big bros’ old job?”

“Captain of the Guard? Heck no!” Rumble took the other joystick and leveled his determined glare at the screen. “I’ll be happy if I hit centurion before I’m forty.”

Spike wiggled his controller. The white bar on his side of the screen rolled upward. “What’s this?”

“It’s called Ping.” Button took a moment to remove a chip from existence. “You know, like Ping Pong? The line is your paddle, and you gotta keep the ball from getting past you.”

A dot appeared on the screen, sliding under Spike’s paddle. He jerked his joystick down just in time to intercept. The ball bounced towards Rumble, who batted it back easily. Spike moved upward to catch it, but was an instant too late.

“Huh.” Spike looked the controller over. “Must be broken.”

“No, it’s surprisingly pristine for a fifty-year-old system.” Button leaned over the back of the couch, placing his head between Rumble’s and Spike’s. “I think the paddle was designed to be that slow. You gotta keep it moving to match the ball.”

“It’s a surprisingly tactical game,” Rumble said.

Spike squinted. “Alright, then. Full speed ahead, Captain. And darn the torpedoes.”

The second set ended much as the first did.

Spike glanced at his claws. “You would think I’d have better hoof-eye coordination.”

“But you don’t have hooves,” Button said.

“True.” Spike leaned forward. “One more match, though. Maybe I can finally get this.”

He didn’t.

“You know,” Button Mash said, “maybe ancient games aren’t your thing.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Rumble chucked Spike’s shoulder. “We’ll find something that you’re good at. Or at least that you like.”

Spike set his controller gently on the cushion beside him. “Fair enough. I think I’ll spend a little time attacking the dip first. You guys go ahead.”

Rumble tilted his head in a sort of nod, but not quite. Button Mash unplugged the Altai and hooked up the Famicolt 64. A moment later, they had selected their characters and jumped into a versus game of Golden Pie 64.

“So, Spike, since it’s just the three of us,” Rumble said, blasting Button’s character without mercy, “I wanted to know if you’ve heard the rumors.”

“Rumors?” Spike swallowed his mouthful. “What sort of rumors?”

“Oh, the ones about him and Appl—” Button Mash cleared his throat and jumped as far away from Rumble’s gunfire as possible. “Well, maybe you’d better—”

“Me and Apple Bloom?” Spike rested a hand against the couch back. “Again, what rumors?”

“That she spent the night at your place last week.” Rumble took his eyes off the screen to see Spike’s face wrinkle a touch. “I heard it from Cloudkicker, who heard it from Thunderlane, who heard it from Raindrops, who heard it from Mister Scuttlebutt, who heard it from Merry Mare, who heard it from some unidentifiable source.”

“She did spend the night,” Spike grumbled. “Otherwise she would have frozen in the storm. Nice to see the Ponyville Gossip Machine is still operating at full capacity.”

Rumble tapped his controller more rapidly than was necessary. “Well, somewhere along the line, spending the night turned into spent the night. Um, as a euphemism.”

“Wow,” Button said as his character died. “That’s nowhere near anybody’s business.”

“No, but it’s the hot topic around town.” Rumble scurried to the best hiding place in the level and waited. “So I was thinking that I could send a couple of counter-rumors rolling through the system—”

“Look.” Spike’s tail thrashed behind him. “I don’t want to fight a rumor like that. If people have a problem, they can talk to me about it. That’s what they’re supposed to do. None of that underhanded business.”

“It’s not underhanded if it’s the truth, is it?” Rumble paid no attention as his character was vaporized by Button’s time bomb. “We can’t just let ponies besmirch your honor like that.”

Spike bared his fangs. “I prefer the direct approach.”

Rumble wrinkled his nose. “What about Apple Bloom? We can’t just do nothing.”

“And I won’t.” Spike crossed his forearms and let out a sigh. “I’m gonna talk with Applejack and hope I get to her before the rumors do. Hopefully it’ll at least ease the minds of the ponies that matter.”

Button Mash nailed Rumble with a headshot. “Is that before or after you tell Bloom about it?”

Spike held a finger up and snapped it. “Good point. After. We’ll have to talk to make sure we don’t get our wires crossed.” He rested his eyes behind his palms. “No good deed goes unpunished.”

Rumble smoothed down his prickling coat. “Well, if you need help, just ask your buddies. We’re here for you.”

“Here, here!” Button said.

“Button!” his mother hollered from upstairs. “More ponies here to see you!”

“Thanks, Mom!” he shouted up. He scrambled to his feet and rushed up the stairs, almost running head-first into Featherweight. The two of them halted in their tracks, regarded each other quietly, and then exchanged a gentlecoltly hoof-bump.

“So glad you could make it, Sir Weight.”

“Charmed as always, Sir Mash.”

“Perhaps you might like to peruse the delicacies, Sir Weight?”

“That sounds like an excellent idea, Sir Mash.”

Pipsqueak’s low murmur carried past them down the staircase. “You’re mocking me, aren’t you? I can feel it.”

“One side guys.” Snips jostled for position at the basement door. “Master gamer coming through. Give up your hopes for victory.”

As Button Mash showed the newcomers around, he couldn’t help but overhear Spike and Rumble.

“Thanks for the heads-up, Rumble.”

“No prob. What are friends for?”

Button pulled his mouth into a half-smile. As he spent the evening with the other colts, playing games, sharing stories, and munching junk food, he figured that he had the answer.

***

Unseen But Felt

The Crone’s hooves clomped against the stone path through the grove. No sunlight reached this deep into the caves, but the trees were fed by more arcane methods than a sun controlled by ponies. Magic lines absorbed light from the sky and carried it below. Golden dust drifted from the leaves as fresh air flowed through the tunnels from aboveground. Water from an underground river brought vital nutrients up the roots to the trees themselves, where they were converted to energy to grow and power to reproduce.

The Crone reached up to pick a golden apple with her gnarled foreleg. She bit deep into the fruit and experienced the sensation of pure sunlight flowing through her veins, invigorating her body, lengthening her life. A few wrinkles disappeared, though there were far more where they came from. She finished her meal and continued on her walk.

The largest tree in the orchard rose twice as high as its neighbors. It trunk was as thick as a house and its branches grew into the cavern ceiling, tearing through stone as if digging upwards in desperation. Magic flowed up and down from the roots to the leaves and shone with an inviting glow.

That feeling of warm welcome ended when the Crone came to the base of the tree.

A mirror was embedded into the trunk by dark magic. Bark died and fell away in a jagged scar around the carved golden frame. Wood that touched the mirror was rotten and infested with worms. The Crone saw no reflection in the mirror. In its stead, there was a consuming dark cloud that roiled and raged.

She bowed before it, the hood of her cloak falling in front of her graying orange-and-yellow mane and wrinkly, orangey cream-colored coat. “Master, the dreams no longer have a lasting effect on the dragon. He has found boldness in the closeness of friends.”

The air chilled. The branches of nearby trees shook, carrying a sound like a roaring ocean. Bark crumbled away from the highest tree.

The Crone shivered, pulling her hood tighter. Her sharp purple eyes peered into the mirror’s void. “Um, hello! Master! Your plan to crush the dragon has failed. What are we supposed to do now?”

A low breath echoed through the cavern. The Crone shut her eyes as the answer came in the form of a guttural growl.

“There are always others.”

The Crone waited for further instruction, but none came. When she looked at the mirror, it was a plain flat surface of glass. No reflection, no clouds, just a void. She raised a leg and moved to leave. “I don’t suppose I should talk with the Sisters about this?”

The continued silence was broken by the sound of her hooves on the stone path. “Fine. Have it your way.”

On the far side of the mirror, trapped in an endless void, two greedy green eyes watched her leave. They looked at a world of golden apples, prosperous kingdoms, and a strong core of magic power.

“Mine.”

Author's Note

It's not a years-later epilogue, but a week-later epilogue is just as good, right? It gave me an excuse to write from different perspectives, stretch the world a little bit, and practice my Sweetie Belle and Button Mash.

And, of course, an unapologetic tease at the villain of the saga. Mystery, intrigue, threads of fate, all that jazz.

I hope you enjoyed the story, and I hope to see you next time. :twilightsmile: