Pinkie Pie stood, frozen. “Say that again?”

Spike squeezed her tighter. “Could you please hug me to death, Pinkie?”

“I knew I felt a disturbance in the force,” Pinkie Pie replied, blinking at the dragon. “Are you sure you want that type of hug?”

Spike bobbed his head. “As sure as you jumping into a pond, and coming out with fifty clones that eventually get themselves killed due to Twilight’s unconventional means of picking off ponies one by one.”

“Spike, asking to be hugged to death is much more unconventional than sniping clones of me!” Pinkie said, hopping around. “And besides, those clones were very dangerous, especially that generation three point five clone!”

Spike approached the mare. “Generation three point five?”

“The animators really enjoyed my long face.”

“Pinkie, your face isn’t long,” Spike said with a tilted head.

“Exactly!” she said, before throwing confetti in the air and poofing away, leaving a colorful dragon frozen in her wake.

Spike gasped, and looked around. The mare just disappeared, and Spike hadn’t the foggiest of where the pink-haired hugger killer went.

“Pinkie, where did you?”

Then, he felt hooves wrap around his midsection. “Surprise!”

And suddenly, Spike felt the fire inside him burn his stomach alive.

“P-Pinkiee…?”

As he struggled to say his assailant’s name, Spike remembered Celestia telling him about his hatching. She had tried to auction off his egg to the foal who could possibly open him up. He thought the foal would feast upon his flesh and—

“All done!”

—then inner Death stopped making Celestia look like a dragon stealer with no remorse, and his stomach was no longer burning alive.

“What happened?”

“Since you asked…” Pinkie Pie paused to shove her muzzle in front of Spike’s nose. “I tried to hug you to death, but because you’re my friend and I love all my friends, I decided to try and scramble your insides so that your organs would be more reinforced when Twilight gets all clumsy with her magic and accidentally pelts you with a stack of books!” Pinkie Pie gasped and jumped back. “Or maybe even dropping an anvil on top of you!”

“Don’t remind me,” Spike said, holding his head. He caressed it gently. “I still have nightmares of her magic failing and me getting hit repeatedly with heavy objects.”

“Or tossed to the heavens?”

“No, that was Cadance. I was the one falling off the castle. For me, I’m thrown into anything that’s solid.” Spike frowned. “None of that has killed me yet, and neither will your hugs.”

“Kill you?” Pinkie Pie questioned. “Why do you want me to kill you so much?”

Spike leaned against the counter. “Well, for the past two months, I’ve grown to hate myself, to the point of having no choice but to consider my options.”

“And out of the all the options…” Pinkie mumbled, stepping away from the dragon.

“Pinkie…”

“...you didn’t consider coming to me to ask for help?” Pinkie said, sitting on the floor. Her hair slowly lost its sheen.

Spike frowned. He wanted to say something but the guilt washed over him like being shoved into a lake to learn how to count to twelve.

Spike frowned. “I’m sorry, Pinkie. I should’ve considered talking to you. Will you forgive me?”

Suddenly, Pinkie poofed in front of him, her hooves wrapped around his neck. “Of course!” Pinkie Pie made sure to be careful of his chest, lightly embracing him. “If you’re feeling down, don’t hesitate to come talk to me, so you can turn that frown upside—”

“Down,” Spike finished and held out his clenched claw.

Pinkie Pie smiled, and hoof bumped her friend. “You know it!” She nuzzled into his shoulder.

Spike smiled. For once, butterflies fluttered inside his fire-breathing body. Some might unfortunately be charred by its blazing wrath, but Spike didn’t care about that. There were more important things to do, like—

“Hey, Spike.” Pinkie Pie said, no longer hugging Spike.

Spike raised a brow. “Yeah?”

“Could you do me a favor,” Pinkie Pie began. She threw her hooves in the air. “A really superdidooper favor?”

“I guess. I mean I don’t really have anything important going on other than wanting to hate myself to d—”

“Great!” Pinkie shoved a huge box in front of Spike. “So I need you to go deliver this totally-not-hollow cake to Rarity. It’s top secret intel that no pony else should see!”

“Top secret intel?” Spike asked, his brow threatening to leave his face. “This sounds more like a spy mission than a delivery, and I’m not too fond of being tossed into a mission without payment.”

Pinkie Pie grabbed Spike by his shoulders and hopped with him to the door. “You should be honored, Spike!” She nuzzled his cheek as she spoke. “Not only you’re delivering us from a cake-craving Rarity, but also you’re honoring the Pinkie Pie spy team!” She saluted the dragon, tears bursting out of her eyes. “I’m proud of you, Spike!”

Spike felt confusion wrap itself around his spine, but yet again, that’s what happened when Pinkie Pie was around him. Maybe that’s why he didn’t consider her in the first place: he was too confused to get the picture. Or maybe he’s bad at interpreting Pinkie Pie’s antics.

But he did hear one thing. And that involved food. “Cake craving?” he said with a resounding smack to his face. “When did she start this habit?”

Pinkie Pie shrugged. “I don’t know! Ask her!” she exclaimed, before shoving the poor dragon out of Sugarcube Corner. “See you later, Spike!”

“Bye…?” Spike started, before being cut off by the door slamming shut right in front of him. For a second, he could feel a gust of wind grazing his nose, filling him a chilling fear of what could have been. Or maybe it wasn’t fear. Maybe if his head was a tinsy bit further out, then he could had felt the pain of life once again: his nose breaking to the sounds of his screams piercing the heavens.

He could have ended it all there, but life had different plans for him. He needed do this errand to save Rarity from being possessed by cake. So he trudged on, his feet marking the only road he had ever known.

Author's Note

Thanks for reading!

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TheWraithWriter: Oh Lady Gaga.