Broken

by LightningSword

Rating: mature
Tags: Rarity, Suicide / Self Harm, Tragedy, Violence, Death, Alternate Universe, Twilight Sparkle, Sad, Gore, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Dark, Spike
Length: 5727

Twilight goes back in time to before two lives ended--and hers was destroyed.

DISCLAIMER: due to my strong personal convictions, I want to say, like before, that this story in no way endorses self-harm or suicide. It is a psychologically-driven tragedy. Nothing more.

A week after the funeral, Twilight Sparkle has the perfect plan. Just like when she went back to warn her own past self, she'll go back in time with a similar spell to warn Spike of what he is about to do to Rarity. Will this change everything? Will Twilight save her friends from a fate worse than death?

Or will nothing matter in the end?

This story is a sequel to "Snapped". This story depends heavily on the one before it; read that one before reading this one. Special thanks to Salty Zebra for another fantastic cover image.

WARNING: Contains emotional and psychological anguish, lots of blood, and LOTS of feels. Reader discretion is advised.

Published 2015-02-15 00:00:06 UTC
Last updated 2015-02-15 00:00:06 UTC

Broken

“Where is it? Where is it?! Come on, where is it!?!”

Twilight had been pouring through the Canterlot library for hours looking for it. It had been a week since Rarity and Spike's funeral, and Twilight had needed enough time to pass so as not to look suspicious. The day after coming home from the service, she'd gone back to the Golden Oaks library and cried for the rest of the day. She'd even gone so far as to open up an entire tub of ice cream and binge on it, hoping it would drown her sorrows.

It didn't, but it did give her a brilliant idea.

She'd waited until a week after the funeral, but she could wait no longer than that. She had immediately taken the train back to Canterlot, under the false pretense that she needed counsel from Princess Celestia. She'd gone back, and the princess had welcomed her to stay as long as she wanted, in case she were still grieving. Twilight had taken her up on the offer, eager to use that as the cover she needed to enter the library (just before closing time) and find the scroll she'd used so long ago. A scroll that Spike had helped her find.

A certain time-travel spell.

He'd looked so small and cute in his own miniature casket. They had buried him with the small, gem-studded bow tie Rarity had made for him. He seemed to wear it proudly as they shut the box, the only thing covering the deep gash in his chest—

No! Twilight ordered herself to stop thinking about the funeral, It won't last forever! You can stop this from happening, Twilight. You can save your friends! You can do this! You ca—

“AH-HAH!” she announced, “Eureka! Here it is!” Finally pulling the correct scroll off of a shelf, Twilight unrolled it, studied it, and confirmed that this was what she was looking for. It wasn't the exact spell she used before to go back in time and warn her against worrying herself over nothing, but that wasn't a problem. In fact, it was even better; that spell only lasted a few seconds, but this one would last a half-hour at most. It would give her plenty of time to find Spike and convince him not to visit Rarity's house that day. If not, she could get ahead of him to Rarity's and warn her before he comes.

If not, then . . . .

She was charred and hardly recognizable. Every movement of the coffin sent up a cloud of ashes that settled back inside. Her mane and tail were completely gone. Her hooves resembled hunks of charcoal. Sitting next to her was her dear Spikey-wikey's precious fire ruby . . .

NO! she scolded herself again, Get it together, Twilight! You're gonna save them! You're gonna save them both! It's gonna be all right! That mantra repeated in her head over and over as she studied the spell until she knew exactly how to cast it. She went over it three, five, ten times, until she knew the spell back-to-front without looking, then she rolled the scroll back up and put it away. Backing away from the shelf, Twilight ignited a magical glow in her horn, focused on that one moment in time before her whole world fell apart, and let the magic carry her there. The spell enveloped her in a blazing white light, she felt herself lift away, not just from the ground, but from that very plane of existence. The spell was taking her, cradled in that safe light, back in time.

The time before Spike lost his mind and violently ended two lives.

Moments in time between then and now flashed before Twilight's eyes as she traveled back. She saw Fluttershy crying in her cottage, despite Discord's best efforts to cheer her up. She saw Princesses Celestia and Luna bemoaning the absence of the Element of Generosity. She saw Applejack holding back tears and Trenderhoof rubbing her back in comfort. She saw everypony crying at their funeral . . .

Finally, in a burst of shimmering sparks, Twilight appeared back in Ponyville, ten days ago, on the day Spike murdered Rarity and took his own life.

Twilight looked around, needing an indication that she was where she was. The decorations set up around town for the Ponyville Days festival confirmed the day, but not the time. Twilight pushed off from the ground and let her wings take her into the air, and she uneasily flew up several feet to see the city's clock tower. The clock showed noon, about an hour before the fire. She wasn't sure exactly how long the spell would last, but if she had this much time before the boutique fire, she knew she couldn't waste it.

She scanned the ground from her vantage point, hoping to find Spike on his way to the boutique. After a few minutes of looking (and looking strange to several Pegasus passersby), Twilight decided to set down and go straight for Carousel Boutique, hoping to find Spike along the way.

They closed the coffins and lowered them into the ground, one significantly smaller than the other. When the larger one sank into the dirt, Sweetie Belle and her parents wailed, Fluttershy sobbed, and Applejack held tightly onto Trenderhoof. When the smaller coffin went down, the four Princesses of Equestria all shed tears, and a line of Crystal pony Unicorns fired off streams of magic from their horns as a salute to the hero of the Crystal Empire. In front of the larger box was a gravestone marked with the epitaph:

“RARITY
Beautiful in body, mind and soul”

and the stone beside it read similarly:

“SPIKE
Friend, hero, number-one assistant”

Twilight bellowed in frustration as she shook away more painful memories. She had combed the town and all possible routes to Rarity's boutique for a good ten minutes; she didn't know how much time the spell would give her, but she was running out of it, and fast. She glanced in the distance and saw Carousel Boutique, whole once again and as beautiful as it ever was, and she felt a pang in her heart. The last time she'd seen her friend's home and business, it was a pile of smoking ashes being sprayed with fire hoses, from which two corpses had been pulled.

Twilight gasped as she saw him; a small purple-and-green speck, several yards away from the boutique and approaching quickly. Twilight raced to him from behind and called out his name for the first time in what felt like forever, “SPIKE!!”

Spike turned around and saw Twilight approach him, and a look of confusion crossed his young face, “Twilight? What's wrong? Did you need me back at the library?”

Twilight was now face-to-face with her little dragon friend, and her heart exploded with joy. She thought she'd never see him again, and yet here he was, standing, breathing, living. Without thinking, she pulled Spike into a tight hug. He felt so real, so gloriously real; his scales were cool to the touch and his spines were prickly, and it all felt so wonderful. One way or another, even if it was for only a moment, Spike was back.

“Uhh . . . Twilight?” Spike groaned, “I . . . can't . . . breathe . . . .”

“Oops!” Twilight snapped back to reality and set the little dragon down, “Sorry, sorry. Look, uh . . . I just . . . wanted to talk to you about something . . .”

“Can't it wait, Twi? I wanted to go check up on Rarity today—”

“NO!” Twilight yelled without meaning to, “I-I mean . . . . you don't have to do that. I-I'm sure Rarity's fine. W-whatever's going on, I'm sure she can handle it.”

“I'm not too sure about that. Ever since that Trenderhoof guy turned up, she's been acting weird lately.”

“Well, no need to worry about that, Spike,” Twilight answered, trying to think of something, anything, that would get him to come home, “Rarity's a big filly, she can take care of herself.”

“I just feel like she needs me right now, Twilight.”

“But I need you, too!” Twilight rebutted, “I need you to . . . to . . . . to tell me where that encyclopedia set is! Yeah, that's it! The one we ordered from Fillydelphia? I can't seem to remember where we put it.”

Spike looked at her strangely, “It's in the fifth case, topmost shelf to the right. You had me put it up there just yesterday. In fact, you double-checked it yourself.”

“Oh, yeah . . . . but, w-what about the owl food? Owloiscious is starting to run out, and I'm worried he won't have enough—”

“There's a full bag on the second floor, right on your bedside,” Spike began to eye her with suspicion, “Twilight, is everything all right with you?”

“Who, me? Of course, Spike! Everything's fine! Why wouldn't it be? I just . . . .” Twilight continued to struggle for a way to get him back, “. . . . I just really, really need you to come home, okay?”

Spike's suspicion soon combined with worry, but he reached out and gave the Alicorn a gentle pat on the shoulder, “I'll be back soon, Twilight. I'm just gonna go and see Rarity. I won't be long.” And with that, he turned and walked away.

Now Twilight was desperate. As painful as it felt, she knew now that nothing else would work—it must be said now. At last, Twilight revealed the truth, “Spike! If you go to that boutique now, you'll kill Rarity!!”

Spike froze where he was in the middle of the street. Slowly, he turned around and stared back at Twilight incredulously, “. . . . What?”

Twilight sighed; having played her last, best card, she decided to keep moving forward with it. She walked up to Spike and continued, “Look, the truth is . . . I'm not Twilight. Not the Twilight you know, anyway. I'm from ten days in the future. I came here because I wanted to stop you. In my time, you . . . . you stabbed Rarity to death with a shard of glass, burned her house down, and killed yourself out of guilt, and this is the day you do it.”

Spike's eyes widened at Twilight's words, and he suddenly looked scared, “Twilight . . . . this isn't funny . . .”

“It's not a joke, Spike. I saw it myself. You heard something that Rarity said, and it made you lose your mind. After you killed her, you felt guilty and tried to cover it up, but only I knew what really happened. I can't let you see Rarity, Spike! Not knowing what I know! I just can't let you!”

Spike simply stood and stared, aghast at what he'd just heard. “Why . . .” he tried to reply, tears welling up in his eyes, “Why are you doing this, Twilight . . . . I thought you were my friend . . .”

Twilight softened at her friend's distress, but didn't let it stop her, “I am, Spike, I really am. That's why I'm trying to help you—”

“No, you're not! You just don't want me to be with Rarity! You never wanted me to be with her! Everypony always thought I was pathetic or stupid for loving her! Well, I do! And I don't care what you say about it! Nothing's going to keep me away from Rarity, especially when she needs me!”

“No, Spike, you don't understand! I'm trying to save you!”

“Well, don't! I don't need you! I don't need anypony but Rarity! She knows how I really feel about her, I know she does! She'll love me someday! I know she will!” Spike turned and ran for the boutique, trying to keep his tears from falling.

“Spike, no!!” Twilight called after her. As unyielding as he was being, this meant that there was no way to convince him in time. Frantically, Twilight weighed her remaining options, and knew that there was only one thing left to do—warn Rarity.

Twilight took off and sped toward the pursuit in an arc, so as to avoid Spike's eyes. She put all of her wingpower into reaching the boutique, hoping she had enough time to find Rarity and explain everything. She reached Carousel Boutique in a time that would have impressed even Rainbow Dash, and tried prying open the back door. She desperately pushed and strained against the locked door, almost set to break it down. Finally, she banged on the door with a hoof and screamed, “RARITY!! Rarity, listen to me!! You're in danger!! Open the door!! Please open the door!!” She heard something from the other side of the building, and her heart dropped—Spike was walking in.

“PLEASE, RARITY!! I'VE GOT TO SAVE YOU!! I'VE GOT TO GET YOU OUT OF HERE!! RARITY!!” It was no use; she wasn't answering. Cursing her own short-sightedness, Twilight prepared to teleport inside, when she saw the flashing lights and felt herself being lifted away again.

She was indeed about to disappear. From this place and from this time.

“No!” Twilight shrieked, “No, not now! NOT NOW!! NO, NO, NO, N—” She saw the white light again, and soon, she was gone.

She cursed herself as she emerged from the Canterlot library. She cursed herself the entire train ride back. She cursed herself more times than even she could count. Twilight had failed. Spike had gotten inside. And for all she knew, he'd succeeded once again in killing his beloved Rarity, killing himself, and burning down Carousel Boutique.

History had repeated itself.

She sobbed as she stepped off the train and made her way back into town. It was hopeless now; she may as well say goodbye to her dear friends one last time. If events had gone just as they had before, Spike and Rarity's graves would still be marked out at the Ponyville Cemetery, placed right next to each other. If anything, it certainly was convenient. Of course, anything that would make this easier was fine by Twilight, even if it was as small and insignificant as the changes she made to the past.

Barely able to see through her tears, she walked through the gates to the cemetery and looked into the distance where the graves were. That's when she gasped; where two graves once stood, now there was only one, with fresh flowers laid out in front of it. And instead of another headstone, a pony stood beside it, sobbing and talking to it as though its owner were still alive.

“RARITY!!” Twilight cried joyously and raced to her, feeling the same familiar joy she felt when she saw Spike again. Rarity saw her coming, but did not brace herself for what would be the tightest, most unbearably squeezing hug she had ever gotten from another pony.

“Tw- . . . Twilight,” Rarity gasped, “D- . . . darling, I'm . . . glad to see you . . . . but . . . I'm ha- . . . having trouble . . . . breathing . . .”

Twilight released Rarity and stepped back. “Oh, I'm sorry, it's just . . . I . . .” she felt her tears overtake her again, this time in joy rather than sorrow, “I thought I'd never see you again!”

Rarity took a few deep breaths and adjusted the fire ruby around her neck, “Well . . . darling, that's quite lovely and all, but you've only been gone for a day. Anyway, I'm glad you're feeling much better now that you've had your time with Princess Celestia. After what happened, you've needed comfort the most out of any of us . . . . well, except perhaps myself.”

“What?” Twilight asked, confused, “What are you talking ab—” she stopped when she glanced at the headstone Rarity stood next to. Upon seeing Rarity, Twilight had been under the impression that she'd been wrong, that she had managed to save her friends after all.

When she read the headstone, she knew differently:

“SPIKE
Friend, hero, number-one assistant”

Rarity must have seen the look on Twilight's face, and offered her comfort, “I know, I know. Things haven't been the same since the funeral. I myself feel as though I've lost an important part of me . . .”

“Wait!” Twilight stopped her, “How can this be? What . . . what happened?”

“Darling, don't you remember? You were at the service too, weren't you? You cried along with the rest of us. It's terrible what happened . . . . really, I wish I could've . . . done things differently . . .”

“But how?!” Twilight demanded, “How is this possible?! How did Spike die?!”

Rarity was now showing fear similarly to what Spike had shown when Twilight prophesized his own demise. “Twilight, surely you must remember,” she replied gently, “he came to my boutique to comfort me. But I didn't see . . . I don't know how, but somehow I didn't see how badly he was hurting. I told him how I felt about Trenderhoof, how upset I was that he didn't return my feelings, and something seemed off about Spike, as if he were . . . broken, somehow . . . he just turned and left without explanation.”

Twilight had a dark, foreboding feeling strike her all of the sudden. She was certain she knew where this was going.

“I went after him after I'd composed myself,” Rarity continued, beginning to tear up, “I didn't want to leave things the way we had. I walked into the library and . . . . and there he was . . . . just . . . lying there . . . in all that . . . . blood . . .” Soon, Rarity's tears overtook her, too, and she began sobbing again, turning toward Spike's grave, “Oh, Spikey-wikey! Why was I so blind?! If I had known he would do this, I would've stopped him! Why didn't he just tell me he was in pain?! Oh, dear Celestia, why!?!” She collapsed against Spike's headstone and cried. She cried deep, soul-crushing sobs that Twilight could feel seeping into her, as well. It wasn't just that she felt the same debilitating sadness she'd felt at Spike's (and Rarity's) funeral, but it seemed added to, augmented somehow.

Twilight had only half-succeeded. She'd failed to save her little assistant.

Soon, Twilight's tears changed again, this time from ecstasy to agony, and she cried along with Rarity. “I could've saved him,” she muttered, her sobs making her almost unintelligible, “I know I could've saved him . . . . I know it . . .”

“Oh, no darling, don't you cry, too. I know what Spike said bothers you, but all of this really lies with me! If you must blame anypony for this, let it be me!”

Twilight half-composed herself as soon as she heard this, “W-what? 'What Spike said'? W-what do you mean, Rarity?”

“Twilight, now you're starting to worry me,” Rarity insisted, her face showing it, “It's as if you don't remember a single thing that happened. Remember, I told you the last thing Spike said to me before he left. He said 'Twilight was right'. I wanted to know what he meant, but he never told me. He just walked away. It was . . . . it was the last time I saw him alive . . .” She reached under her fire ruby necklace with her hoof and produced a small, rolled-up bit of parchment, “I found this next to him. I meant to tell you since the funeral, but . . . well, I didn't have the heart to bring it up. But you deserve to know that . . . that . . .” she hesitated, the tears returning stronger and more devastating than ever, “that I . . . . I KILLED SPIKE!!”

She fell to the ground in front of Twilight and cried even harder, “Oh, Twilight, I'm so sorry!! It was because of me that Spike died! He loved me for so long, but I never knew! It was all so clear to me, but I never bothered to notice! I never cared, Twilight, and now he's gone! I may not have loved him the way he loved me, but I still loved him dearly!! He didn't deserve what I put him through, what we all put him through! He didn't deserve to be strung along like that for so long! He didn't deserve to die!! OH, TWILIGHT, PLEASE FORGIVE ME!!!”

Twilight held the small scroll with her magic, frightened to see what it said after Rarity's 'confession'. But Twilight knew she had to have the truth. She needed to know how she had failed Spike. Slowly, she unrolled the parchment and read the message inside, having difficulty reading through the obvious bleeding spots in the ink left by tears.

Dear Twilight,

If you're reading this, then you know I'm dead. Before you start crying, you should know, it's for the best. You were absolutely right about me. When I went to see Rarity, she told me that I wouldn't know how it feels to be obsessed with somepony who doesn't love me back. At that moment, I wanted to hurt her, to make her pay for ignoring my feelings for so long. That's when I remembered what you said. You were right. I'm a murderer just waiting to kill.

And for that, I deserve to die.

It's not just because of that, though. I've done a lot of thinking, and now it's clear that I was a fool to think Rarity would ever love me. I thought that by giving her everything, she'd return my affections, but the truth is, I'm nothing but a stupid little boy who doesn't know the first thing about love. To think that I could earn Rarity's love is despicable—not that I ever had a chance with her anyway. She doesn't love me. She never did. And now I realize, after being so blind and deluded all these years, she never will.

After all I've been through, playing second fiddle to you and the others, hardly ever being any help to anypony, always messing up, getting hurt, or needing to be rescued, I guess it's what I deserve for thinking I could make Rarity love me. But now, being so angry at her for not loving me when I thought she should, it's made me think that I deserve far worse than all that. Only the lowest thing on Celestia's green Equestria would think that anypony could deserve love after a show of kindness. I can hardly control this anger, this pain I feel at having my heart broken, and I want to blame Rarity. But I know it's not her fault. She was just trying to show me what a pathetic waste of time it all was. Even if she doesn't say it, I know she must think so. Rarity doesn't need me bothering her all the time. She doesn't need me trying to take away the happiness she wants with a real stallion. And she certainly shouldn't be forced to be with me. That will all just make her hate me more than she already does.

And you don't deserve a lowlife like me as your assistant. Both you and Rarity could do so much better.

You're the closest thing I have to a mom, Twilight, so I hope you understand. Trust me, it's better this way.

Goodbye, from your number-one assistant,

Spike

And to Rarity: I'm sorry I tried so hard to make you love me. I don't deserve your love, your kindness, or your friendship, and never did. But maybe after today, I'll at least deserve to be remembered by you.

I still love you, Rarity. I always will, forever.

Your little Spikey-Wikey”

Words could not describe how crushed Twilight felt. She may have saved Rarity from her grim fate, but her actions had no effect on Spike's. In fact, she may have been the catalyst that drove Spike's rage away from Rarity and toward himself. She had saved one's friend's life at the cost of that of another.

Twilight suddenly bolted from the cemetery, leaving a still inconsolable Rarity looking confused again. She couldn't believe this. Twilight refused to believe this. She didn't want her best and closest friend to still be dead, in spite of all the effort she put into reversing history. She needed answers and she needed them now. And at this point, there were only two ways to get them; the first was excavating Spike's body from the ground to make sure it was really him. That was something she was unwilling to do, regardless of what she wanted.

The second was faster, easier, required less help, and didn't raise any attention at all.

Twilight reached the Golden Oaks library and raced through the door, slamming it behind her. She flew to each shelf in the library, tearing down books until she found the time-gazing spellbook she'd used on the day the fire was supposed to have happened. She found it, flipped back to the spell she'd used to see back in time, refreshed her memory on how to cast it, and tossed the book aside. She looked up and down the inside of the library before casting the spell, and like before, a small screen appeared in front of her, displaying what had happened—what had changed—the day Spike died.

On the screen, Spike sat alone in the dark library, sobbing at Twilight's writing desk as he scribbled away at a scrap of parchment with a quill pen. A closer look showed that this was the very suicide note Twilight had read moments earlier:

Dear Twilight,

If you're reading this, then you know I'm dead. Before you start crying, you should know, it's for the best. You were absolutely right about me. When I went to see Rarity, she told me that I wouldn't know how it feels to be obsessed with somepony who doesn't love me back. At that moment, I wanted to hurt her, to make her pay for ignoring my feelings for so long. That's when I remembered what you said. You were right. I'm a murderer just waiting to kill.

And for that, I deserve to d

Spike paused at that last word, and his heart-wrenching cries grew louder as his tears stained the parchment. He kept writing, sure to pull the pen away from the parchment when his shaky sobs became too harsh, almost affecting his writing.

ie.

It's not just because of that, though. I've done a lot of thinking, and now it's clear that I was a fool to think Rarity would ever love m

Spike stopped again to collect himself, but it looked more and more difficult for him. “Get it together, Spike,” he muttered through his sobs, “You have to do this right. You have to . . . . you can't . . . . you can't live like this anymore. For once, you have to do something right . . . . you have to . . . .” his crying was strong enough to silence him, but he'd regained a steady claw, and continued to write all the way to the end of the note.

It was the end, though, that he had the most difficulty with:

I still love you, Rarity. I always will, forever.

Your little S

Spike stopped again. He looked as though forcing himself to write on pained him somehow, like what he was about to write was a lie of the most heinous and vile kind. Little by little, letter by letter, Spike finished it, taking what seemed like hours. He rolled up the finished letter and held it tightly in one claw, taking several deep breaths to reduce his cries. It was no use, though—even as he stood from the desk, made his way to the closest window, and put his fist through it to shatter it, he released a steady stream of tears.

“No!” Twilight finally spoke out loud, as if hoping the little dragon on the magic screen could hear and respond, “No! Spike, please! Please don't!”

Taking his now bloody and torn claw and pulling a particularly thick and lethal shard of glass from the broken window, Spike wandered to the middle of the library, set his suicide note behind him, and slowly lowered the point of his glass shard to his left wrist.

“Spike, no! Please! You can't! You can't do this! I can't lose you again! Please, no!”

Twilight suddenly realized that, even if this event were happening in real life, and Spike were standing right in front of her, he still may not have answered. His face was blank, dead in its own way. Rarity had been right. Somehow, he was not in his own head.

Broken, she had said. He'd looked broken.

Spike jammed the point of the shard into his wrist, slicing into the scales and causing an instant downpour of blood. Spike cried out faintly in pain, and groaned as he switched claws and repeated the process with his right wrist. He ripped open the other arm, and the blood stained the floor beneath him even more.

Rarity had been right again. There was so much blood.

“Spike . . . .” Twilight sobbed, her own tears almost blocking her vision, “No . . . .”

Finally, Spike took the bloody shard, pointed the point to his neck, and slashed his own throat in a wide arc. He gagged and coughed up more blood as he dragged the shard further across his throat, and his body was growing limp and weak, but still he pulled that glass through his skin. Twilight felt herself wanting to shut off the spell and look away, but the sight was so gruesome, so horrifying, that she could not. It was just as sickening as watching Rarity die.

What made this worse were the remnants of tears in Spike's eyes as he struggled to repeat his dying words from another time: “I'm so sorry, Rarity . . . . please forgive me . . . .”

Finally, Spike collapsed to the floor, splashing the pool of blood he'd left underneath him. The shard fell from his claw and clattered to the ground. His last tear dropped from his face and disappeared in the pool of blood, added considerably by the cascade of red from his fatal neck wound. His eyes were open and remained frozen forever in that same soulless gaze; the way he'd fallen, he was now looking directly at the screen, directly at Twilight. His body now looked the same way his eyes did—weak, lifeless, dead.

Broken.

Finally able to pull herself away, Twilight stopped the spell, and the screen vanished. She suddenly had no idea how she was able to keep it together after seeing Rarity's now-erased murder—after a few seconds of fighting the feeling, she raced to the nearest trash can and vomited. Her stomach, her heart, her head, it all bore a vicious, dull ache that rippled and spread all over her body. Her legs felt shaky and weak underneath her, and she lost her sense of sight for a few seconds. The evidence was clear now. As desperately as she wanted to believe otherwise, there was no way to fool herself now. Even after all she'd done, Spike was still dead.

And this time, it was her fault.

“NO!” she bellowed after finally getting herself together, “I WON'T LET THIS HAPPEN!! I WON'T LET SPIKE DIE! I SAVED RARITY! I CAN SAVE SPIKE, TOO! I WON'T LET THIS HAPPEN!! I WON'T!!” Twilight almost tripped on her own shaky legs, but she raced for the door of the library. If she caught the very next train, she could be back in Canterlot by the end of the night. All she'd have to do was find another spell, one with none of that accursed time limit nonsense, one that she could bring herself out of at will. She would go back a second time, find Spike, bind and gag him, take him back to the library, board up the windows, take everything sharp out of the house, put out any and all sources of fire—

Twilight wrenched open the door and raced out, but instead of seeing Ponyville in mid-afternoon, she was shocked to see . . . nothing. There was nothing but a black expanse before her, devoid of all life, that stretched on to infinity. There were no ponies, no houses, no trees, no roads, no sun, no moon, no sky—just black. Infinite black up, down, and all around. Twilight was terrified—she instinctively kept to one spot, afraid she might fall through the floor (or whatever she was now standing on) and drop through an eternity of blackness.

She glanced behind her, and saw that the library was gone, as well. Now, her terror was worsening. What was this place? How did she get here? And why was she here?

She turned forward again, and saw unlikely company—Discord.

“Discord?” Twilight asked, “You . . . . ? Stop this! Put me back in Ponyville, right now! I have something very important to do!”

Discord shook his head, “Not anymore, you don't.” The usual lively impishness was gone from his voice; it was now earnest, direct, and foreboding, all things Twilight figured Discord was completely incapable of.

“Let me out of here, Discord! I mean it! This is important! Lives are on the line, here!!”

Discord lowered himself to her level, “I know.” He then pointed behind Twilight, and she turned around to find more unexpected faces joining her in the void. Princesses Celestia, Luna and Cadance stood before her, all wearing soft, yet stern expressions in varying degrees.

Celestia walked forward, sat down in front of Twilight, and touched her face gently with one hoof. “Twilight,” she said, her voice matching the look in her eyes, “We need to talk.”