Oblivion

by TheTraxicEnd

Rating: teen
Tags: Alternate Universe, Drama, Romance
Length: 4582

Spike is forgetting something that he does not want to forget. It's sitting right beside him too, always telling him its name. Yet he cannot remember.

Spike can't remember what he loves most. Its sitting right beside him, telling him its name. Yet he can't remember…

…but she can.

Editors: Izanagi, FamousLastWords, jazzie366

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2015-08-23 02:05:54 UTC

He

Summer Sun - Year 1561

Sounds all around him, buzzing; they pique his interest. His eyes are set on the natural greenery, which is blown by the free-flowing wind. It rushes all around him, tickling his skin, barely; the scales shielding him from most of its wrath. The trees, tall and stoic giants, show nothing but nature's purity, but he sees them as the nexus of life that stands in the backdrop of the scene. The most important piece to the scene is his friend, who is galloping straight for him. She's smiling, her mane bouncing in the wind. It's chilly, he thought, very chilly tonight. Even in the summer, the night time was chilly. Very—forgotten. Her coat is purple, a pink streak down the center of her mane. She has wings, some decent size ones to be exact. They fly—no, don't—she uses them sometimes to catch the ball whenever he wants to play catch near the library. It's... for hoofball, he thought, just for hoofball. He loves the sport, just like—forgotten.

He sits down and holds his head, grabbing it with care. He gently caresses it, telling himself it's okay to be hurting, be hurting for—something. Something, he can't remember, just a bit of something. He imagines that something, dancing in the...water. He smiles, and—I want—it smiles too. They dance, holding each other. He doesn't know what it has: hooves?—forgotten.

Sitting beside his friend, he holds his claw out to her. He takes her hoof, purple—he remembers that color.

Twilight Sparkle.

"Hello, Spike!" she says happily—her smile is huge—"How is my little dragon doing tonight?"

Forgotten.

She smiles. "That's good." A pause. "I know you like the streak in my mane, you always say so."

He gives her a hug. "I do," he says, his eyes darting towards that color. "Did you ever think about getting it dyed?"

She raises an eyebrow at him. "Why?"

Eyeing the color, it reminds him of some—pony. "It reminds me of some—"

She blushes and interrupts him, "So, you remember how—she was your—"

He frowns. "Who?"

"I thought you knew..." He feels her hoof slither around his neck. "Spike..."

"What?"—did she remember?—"I don't understand."

A lone tear escapes her eye, he saw, the drip escaping the only hole it could go through before making its mark off her coat, dismounting onto the green grass below. "You..." A few words drop with it.

He sighs. Every time he wants to remember—a memory comes. It comes. Loudly. It hurts, he thought, holding his head. A hoof slithers around his neck again. She pats it away, the hurt. Hopefully it's gone. Hopefully.

The sun is high, up there. Somewhere, he thought, a pair of wings would come save him. He wants to fly—don't hit—but something is hindering him. He sees greens, blues, golden hues in the sky; purple and pink are his favorite to see on Twilight, a smile. "Twilight?"

"Yes?" she says, gazing at him.

He holds her smile, even though she's losing it—a tear. "I'm happy you're here."

She nods, tears coming out like mad now. "I know, she told me."

"Who?"

She nods. "Yes, who did. She did."

He nods.

That's all he knew. Who she is is forgotten.

Sitting in the room, he reads with the light's gaze upon him, glaring. Yellow hues paint his book, providing the necessary light he needs. Spike smiles, reading a line from the book, "He who watches watches with the intent of many."

He momentarily looks away from the book to let the phrase sink in. Who is watching whom, he thought, sitting in his recliner. Does it hint to many as one you had forgotten? Like she—who? He didn't know. He quietly set the book aside, got up from his chair, and walked out the front door of the castle. It is a beautiful night, he thought, moon shining on him. A beautiful night to walk.

He walks down the stairs, three gazes beating on him already, two from the guards who wear their uniforms too tight, and a third...

Forgotten.

He stops, looks skyward, sees—who?—nothing. He walks away, minding his own business—hit the—there was a tree there—pony—she is beautiful, just like the night. He admired her as she stood, as beautiful as the leaves fluttering in the wind. He smiled, she smiled; the world is happy again.

"Spike?"—A voice?—"Why are you outside?"

He turns to the voice. "Well I—"

She—forgotten.

"You... what?"

He stares at her. "I... don't know."

Her cyan hoof wraps around his neck. "That's unusual, even for a dragon like you, Spike." She pulls him close. "Say, how about you come with me so we can chat about life?"

What is her name? "About life?"

She smiles—it is beautiful, like the tree—"Yes, about life. I see you doing it with Sweetie Belle all the time. Why not chat with an awesome old friend like me?"

Friend. It stung. "Sure."

Maybe he's forgetting something. Is this who it is?

Whoever who is, he likes her already.

They have been chatting for a while, catching up. Apparently she... well, her name isn't sticking, but she does a lot. She flies—somewhere. Ugh, Spike thought, holding his head again. She told him already all about her, yet none of the information is sticking. All he sees is her—who?—walking beside him, her rainbow mane glistening in the night light, and her eyes twinkling with the stars, reflecting. Her smile slowly fades to a frown, and her wings—she had them closely wrapped around his back—slowly came to her sides, closed. "Spike?"

"Huh?" he says—forgotten.

"Are you all right?" She eyes him up and down. "You have been silent since I told you about the routine I just recently tried out."

"I'm f-fine!"—No, I'm not—"I heard what you said!"

She sighs. "Then tell me what I said."

His eyes widen. "Well..." He didn't know how to start. He remembers her ending moves, not the starting ones! He panics, thinking back to what she said. It's like static to him, he thought, mercilessly trudging through the endless filing cabinets in his mind, searching for that one freak memory he had saved from the conversation. His second self dives into one, tossing out endless thoughts of Twilight's letters; a jubilant little hamster that, as it was tossed, burst into flames; and even a giant crystal heart, one that he imagined was from Cadence, somehow flies out the cabinet, click-clacking against the floors of his mind, which, in present time, makes him clutch his head, groaning.

He sees her waiting: her lip biting a bit out of spite, holding back her impatience, he thought. He is making her wait. He can't stall any longer. "You did a corkscrew into a large dip curve before doing a buccaneer blaze!" he begins, making her gasp. "You then moved into a double helix before launching into a figure eight loop, making yourself get enough speed to travel straight up before crashing down into a sonic rainboom!"

Spike begins to pant after saying his sudden speech. He watches her, stare. Her face is blank, like a fresh new sheet of paper without a single stain of ink on it, while her one brow twitches rapidly. She must think he is wrong. Wronger than anypony.

"Spike..." she says, wrapping her wing around him again. "You were paying attention."

He sighs, much to her chagrin, a sigh of relief. "Thank Celestia."

She smirks. "So you were paying attention?" A nudge. "Because a winner doesn't sigh like that."

He gasps. "U-Uh, I was, honest!" Deny, deny, deny—forgotten.

He sees her hoof nudge his side. "Then why did you look away when we talked about..."

"About what?" He asks.

"Us."—Us?—"Just us."

He tilts his head. "Us?"

She frowns, looks away, and sighs. She sounds like he did, not a winner. "I'm going."

He stops, turns, and yells, "Wait!" before watching her go.

Nothing ever felt so heart-wrenching in his life. His heartstrings are gone, emptiness resides. All that's left...

Forgotten.

Spike woke with the sun shining in his eyes. Last night, he thought, last night was terrible. She—whoever she is—flew from him, upset. She left him for the sole he reason he dreads: forgetting. How he got like this, he thought. How?

He glares at the shiny red heart-shaped garnet on his bedside, one that he made for his ex-love that didn't return his love back. Instead of being in her possession, she gave it back to him, and ever since that day, he kept it on his beside table. It glimmered there, embodying what he once was: hopelessly blind. Blinded by love. A jewel like this should be destroyed.

So, Spike gets out of his bed—sliding—stands by his bedside table, grasps the little deviant in his claws, and...

...he stops.

How does he destroy something like this?

He stares.

How does he destroy something he had crafted for another?

How...

He drops it on the floor and kicks it under the bed.

There, destroyed, the garnet lay. He forgot it.

He smiles, walks out the door, and proceeds down the hall.

It smelled nice. It was just like the nexus of life: beautiful and forgotten.

Outside is where he likes to be. It reminds him of the books he read, where the dragon flew in the skies. They were great, he thought. Too good to be true, a legend, a myth. He read them all, and they were great. Yet, something they all didn't have is the fact of love and forgetting. The characters never forgot. The characters never lost love and if they did, they regained it again through the same lover. It is not—pulling a book away from his head and closing it—fair.

Setting the book aside, he lets his mind wander. The beast within him needs it, since his mind has been forgetting things since last week. He wished he forgot that, where he slipped and fell in front of everypony. He was covered in frosting from the cake he and Pinkie Pie had made for the Mrs. Cake's birthday party. She is a nice mare. She is a good baker.

Maybe he could find one like her, except without the baking. A nice mare: somepony, as he imagined, could save, help, be loyal to, and love all the same. She would love him too, and vow the same. They would be together in his home, where they would sit by the fire and read Daring Do while sipping on two delicious cups of hot cocoa. Even though the hotness of the cocoa would settle and fizzle in his body, he had no qualms with the drink nor with the mare. He would love the mare there, and he would love her anywhere.

Maybe it was her, she—someone.

He grabs his head and holds it with care. Again, he thought, rubbing his cheek softly. It hurt while he was trying to remember who he had forgotten. She must be the missing piece, whoever she is. He needs to see her again. Again? Sometime soon. Once his head stops hurting...

He opens his eyes and sighs. With a swift grab from his claws, the book is in his possession. He opens it and begins to read.

The sun begins to drop.

"He who watches watches with the intent of many..."

The moon begins to rise.

"...so he'll never have to watch again."

She

Winter Falls - Year 1556

She saw him happily walking with Sweetie Belle with his big, goofy smile. Even though he was older than them by four years, she knew they looked all the same age in reality. They were all fifteen: Sweetie Belle, Apple Bloom, Scootaloo, even Babs Seed, who had come to Ponyville to live with her cousin. However, Spike  would be the same age too, if it weren't for life, who decided to age him quicker. He looked happy, she thought, watching from afar as the five walked side by side, smiling wide. Yet deep down, suppressed near his fire was his unhappiness. She could see it in his face when he grimaced (slightly), his eyes darting to every face near him, hoping no one saw his slip up. She saw him do it every time; she must be invisible to him.

Rainbow Dash sighed. To her, she never will have a chance to sit there with him and talk without feeling all awkward and brash, which was, as she assumed, a bit too much for him. She knew who he liked: Rarity. She saw him look at her with all the money and gems in the world glimmering in his eyes. Yet, she...

"Rainbow Dash!" harked her target. "Are you alright?"

She panicked, her eyes moving away from his. "U-Uh... yeah!" Stutter. "I'm fine!"

He waved to his friends, and approached her. "It didn't sound like you were fine."

"I..." She looked down. "I am, Spike." She had to get her heart to stop beating so fast.

He looked at her (with his eyebrow raised too) from all angles. He eyed her like an exquisite piece of art that was hanging delicately on the wall, colors swirling in fine arts, while the more sculpted pieces came to life, feeling closer and rounded. She felt an unbearable heat rise to her face. She wondered what was going through his mind. Did he like how she looked? Did she fit his mold?

Why did she care? she thought, knowing that the age difference from her to him was too far still. The ponies viewed him as fifteen, yet he was nineteen. She was twenty-six.  So why did she care for a dragon? What was her motive? Did she even have a motive, an attraction, a liking for him that would steer clear from the judgmental world around her?

She sighed. He was a bright, smart, fire-breathing dragon who loved ponies like she loved ponies. Most of all, she thought he was cool. Yes, her mind did not deceive her, he was cool. Normally, she couldn't even get past admitting another pony, let alone a stallion was as downright cool--no, awesome as her, but now, she called him cool. An awesome cool dragon. Something was very wrong.

Just like her heart, which was beating faster and faster the more he took to eye her up and down.

Then it came to a close; the race was over. He smiled.

"I guess you are fine."

That made her heart come to a slow, natural pace. After all, slow and steady wins the race (said no one ever).

Rainbow Dash had to ask him some questions.

"Why haven't we talked?"

The dragon, now seated in his favorite chair, looked at her and replied, "I've been extremely busy mining with Rarity. She's... wanting a specific type of gem that is necessary to complete her piece. Something... blue?"

A blue gem?, she thought, leaning back in her chair. It wasn't unusual for the two friends to sit down and just chat. They've been friends since Twilight harked her name and when she and Spike laughed themselves to the ground. Old friends, she would describe them as, old friends that have been...

No, she won't think of them like that. They won't be distant. There's no reason to be distant. They're are best friends, Spike and her, right? Is she...

Is she losing him?

She sighed. "So she never let you have a break?"

He twiddled his claws. "I... wish I had asked for one."

Groaning, Rainbow Dash sat up and scooted her chair closer to Spike before popping a squat once again. She saw his face turn red for just a brief moment, which, in her eyes, meant something. She just didn't know what. Was it for Rarity or was it for her?

"Maybe you should stop working for Rarity," Rainbow Dash said. "She's working you to the ground and--"

The suggestion must've triggered something deep within Spike, as she saw him stand up and put his face near hers. He growled and said, "How could you even suggest something like that?"

"It's not like you're gaining anything from it!" Rainbow Dash replied ferociously, eyebrows promptly slanting down.

He sighed. "I am, Rainbow Dash."

"Then what are you gaining?"

"I," he began, his eyes darting from her to the door. "I'm getting garnets."

"Garnets?" Her anger began to vanish. "What do you mean?"

"She's paying me with any gem that I'd like, so, naturally I told her I wanted the garnets. They're the best you can have in Equestria."

Garnets? She had heard of those gems before. They, according to Spike, taste like a ruby, but aren't a ruby. They also keep you in a trance sometimes, giving him, as he had put it once, a cloud nine effect. It's not normal, she had told him while she stood there with the thoughts of death swirling around her brain. Despite her concern, she was pushed aside every time; his anger had won him over and he stomped out, carrying his garnets with him.

"Didn't I tell you this before, Rainbow Dash?" he growled with that same growl which pierced her eardrums. "You told me I may get sick from eating them!"

Her heart began to race again. "I... did. I'm just worried about you, Spike."

"Don't be," he replied while he got up from his seat. With a blank expression staring straight at her, he continued, "I'll be fine."

Just like that, the dragon left the library, leaving Rainbow Dash to her thoughts. Her heart had been beating fast as he looked at her. His eyes had looked empty, blank, and when he left, the cold, harsh slamming of the door had made her heart suddenly stop beating. Once he had left, her heart restarted again at a much slower pace. She sighed.

Another race down, another loss in the books.

She tried to smile, but the world around her felt like it was floating above water while she was sinking towards the dark depths below. She hadn't hit rock bottom yet, but the dark essence inside her told her she had forgotten where it ended, so she continued to swim up when she may have hit the bottom a long time ago. She shook her emotions away, hoping that for a brief second, while she traversed town square, that her facade would stay true, that she could smile and get past Pinkie without her asking what's wrong or why she was frowning. Pinkie Pie didn't like frowns, and if she saw one on Rainbow Dash's face, her goal would be to try and make that face genuinely happy again. Not the pony, just the face.

She might actually like that, Rainbow Dash thought, her face lighting up at the prospect. Happiness is earned, and she would earn it for that moment, before she...

The smile was wiped from her face.

...lost him again.

In front of the library was Spike carrying his new load of garnets.  She stopped her walk and watched as he opened the door and attempted to walk in. Some of the garnets almost fell from the large pile, but luckily Spike gathered himself, dipping the load low so it could cross the threshold.  Rainbow Dash never knew he had gotten that many garnets from Rarity's gem hunts, but she knew it now as the door slammed against its frame that he is drowning in those garnets.

Concern wiped her face clean from sadness as she raced towards the door. Garnets again. She must stop him from sniffing, eating, consuming, taking in the fumes--garnets weren't healthy for him. She knew it as each day she talked to him he would get worse and worse and worse. His anger would bind him to the ground while he yelled at everypony who stood in his way. Even Twilight, though she did not like to talk about, would be caught in the crossfire. His strong language would send Twilight haywire, and she would lose herself to a torrent of sadness--for a second. Twilight would be sad for that lone second before putting that mask on too.

If anypony knew how Rainbow Dash felt, it would be Twilight. There's no easy way to put this. If she was going to get to Spike, she'd have to talk to Twilight Sparkle before she lost him forever.

With a deep breath, Rainbow Dash knocked on the door.

He2

Summer Sun - Year 1561

She left yesterday. It didn't feel right. The wind reminds me of yesterday. Maybe she'll fly through that wind just to get back here. I'm waiting.

She was awesome. It wasn't like Twilight, who I have known for so long. She still whispers in my ear—memories flutter in and out like a sudden jump in time where the only things you can keep within you are the emotions and lines that curve at just the right slope, or make you feel like you are cloud nine, forgetting about the world. She told me that she left, though. I wish I forgot that moment, sitting on a cloud, watching others go by—can dragons float on them? I can't believe I forgot that too.

Maybe Twilight can help me figure that out. Maybe she can tell me how easy it is to move on, take a cloud and zip out of here. You know? Carry me away to a far distant land, where it showers just right and shines most of the time. A land where drought is nearly non-existent, a natural occurring event stretching due to the fact that nature can only block so much of the hatred and evil out; a projection of death through nature.

It sounds weird, thinking like this. I never was like this. I remember, vaguely, that when I sat down before them—they were red, I remember—I would count them—forgotten how many there were—she came in—she hates me now.

Holding my head, I walk into the lobby, or what I call, the living room. Filled with books, a place where business and luxury collided. I sound smart when I describe it like that. Maybe those little red ones will take me to her again.

I smile and sit on the couch, waiting for little Ms. Friendship to come down and greet me. I want to give her a hug today. I think I can remember why I want to, though. Today was her day, when she... did something. No—don't tell me, I did not forget today! What is today! What is today!?

Groaning and moaning in pain—a memory flashing before my eyes—another—another, tears falling down her face. She came, she left, another day lost in the winds of time, a door flew open, curse words fluttering in the breeze before creating havoc in the one I lo—she didn't like that.

"Spike!"

I watch as little Ms. Friendship came down the stairs, her eyes wide and her brows twitching in agony. A spur of mumbles and concerned, yet meaningless jargon flew out of her mouth like a rapid fire cannon, one like Pinkie's but slightly less energetic, the splurge of words throwing recklessness to the wind. She does care, yes. She says she wants me to be safe, she says she wants for me to remember. Something about her, a her? Not one I know of? Is it her? Yet she does not tell me. Whenever I ask, she just tells me to think hard into the past. She doesn't drop a hint, not even a slight one. I want to know, but can you show me—it hurt just letting her waste away.

She nuzzles me and holds me in her wings. "Spike, snap out of it!"

Shaking my head, I bring myself to. "Yes?"

I could tell Twilight doesn't like that response. She shivers, slightly, and a momentary twitch of her ear gives way to the truth. "I'm really worried about you, you keep doing this every morning!" Another shiver, is it mine? "I don't like seeing you suffer anymore!"

Suffering is a metaphor... "From what? And I do this every morning? Weren't we outside before?"

I hear her whine while a few tears graze down my spines. "That was yesterday, an exception to the early morning, Spike."

"Early?" A nod gives me nothing but trouble to look at it. She gave it, I received it. Another confusing day. "Am I... a problem?'

She shakes her head. "You're not the problem..." She mutters something incomprehensible near me, something I couldn't quite understand. Is she okay? Why was she muttering? Was what she said about me not being a problem just a cover up? A hoax? A dirty white lie to make me feel better?

Is she...

"Then what is?"

She stutters—a faint breeze flows into the library from the open window Twilight had kept open, a bird tweets just outside the second floor window, a coffee pot simmers on the range, and the rest fell silent, except for her—and falls into the brink of sanity, where she thought she should be, but failed to meet their standards for so long. Pulling back, her gaze meeting mine, I see those trails of tears, where the hurt stumbled upon the roots, where several died at the hooves of others. She holds onto this feeling forever, or maybe I just—forgotten.

Her eyes don't look the same anymore.

"Those... gems."

She told me about this before. I never let them go. They are red. They remind me of that color. She had them. Had them once. She has them still? I don't know. Rarity is a good reminder too. She loved me. She loved me so much. I think? Maybe. She never did? I'm not sure about that. Someone told me that the thought of being loved by another meant that they cared about you. It was like Ms Friendship, but she didn't love me like... she did. She...

She was beautiful.

Something about her—more red than a garnet, more shiny than its surface, more dazzling than any gem on the market; she was above all gems. Even Rarity didn't meet her. I guess? Maybe. Rarity mustn't be the one. I can remember her. Who am I forgetting!?

Have I met her before?

"Spike?"

Another daydream passes; I see Twilight again. "Twilight?"

A distant memory fades into the darkness that hung over us. "You... want to go see her?"

"Where did this come from?" I ask immediately. My heart is pounding in my ears.

Twilight frowns. "You were muttering something about her being beautiful..." Those wings let go of me. "I think you miss her."

"When did I do that?" Another question I couldn't help asking. "Who is she!?"

"When you spaced out again, Spike. And..." She pauses, a hoof twirling in its owner's mane. "I can't tell you that. She's told me not to tell you."

I... "But if I don't find her, I'll lose her forever!"

Twilight smirks--a face I haven't seen in a long while. "Then look in front of you when she comes..." She gets up, and turns that confident smirk into a smile for the ages. "May I get you something to eat?"

My mind is racing, my stomach is speaking French—fries?—and all the thoughts of her flood into my head all at once: a pleasant sunrise where color hovered around the sun's form. As the day passed, however, the colors dissolved into one blue hue. She loved making them.

Wait... she loved making what?

Forgotten.