The Rise of Demon King Spike

Traversing the whimsical streets of Ponyville Spike's thoughts tumbled together like angry cats trapped in a barrel rolling down a hill. He didn't know for sure where he was going and didn't pay any attention to where he was. All he knew for certain was that he needed a place to sit down and to think. He had to come to grips with... Well everything.

The sun dipped in the sky and the young drake had found a quiet place to sit. Here with the stream gurgling gently at below him and a solid wooden bridge he felt his calm slowly regain it's footing.

Lots of junk had found it's way here under the bridge over the years. Scraps of broken wagons and buildings from the last few times that Ponyville had been destroyed littered the waterway.

There was even a perfectly good cardboard box.

Maybe he should get some sleep? Everything would make more sense if he was actually well rested enough to think about it. Maybe.

It couldn't hurt at least.

“Spike?” asked the box, “What are you doing here?”

“I... I didn't know where to go,” the dragon explained.

“You have a fight with your mom?”

“She's not my mom!”

“Touchy, touchy! Twilight. You had a fight with Twilight?”

“Yeah.” Spike sat down on the ground, defeated.

“Would it really be so bad?”

“What?”

“If Twilight was your mom. I mean, I wish I had a mom.” A perfectly good orange pegasus filly poked her head out of the perfectly good cardboard box.

“No,” tears welled out of his eyes. “It wouldn't be so bad if Twilight was my mom.”

“So why not just say that she is? That's how I got Rainbow Dash to be my sister.” Scootaloo took the opportunity to preen with pride.

“I'm not sure it works like that.”

“Of course it works like that. Dash said it did and she knows everything.”

Spike chose not to correct the filly. “Twilight treats me like a baby. I'm not. I mean I'm old enough not to be. But I am. Because dragons are dragons. I need to grow up and I can't.”

“You'll grow up in time.”

“No, I won't. I'll be a baby forever if I don't... do... something.”

“What do you have to do? Can I help you with it?” the bright eyed, nubile and prepubescent filly asked.

“I don't think so,” lamented Spike as he laid down in the dirt.

“Are you sure? I'm really very mature for my age and I know lots of stuff about ponies and junk,” the now excessively helpful filly, inched forward eagerly.

The dragon sighed in defeat. It wasn't as though he had anything to lose. Placing his claws over his eyes so he wouldn't have to see her reaction, he spoke.

“I have to have sex. It's the only way I can grow up into an adult without crushing Ponyville to rubble or turning into a freak. And a lot of sex. Lots and lots. Like atleast half of Ponyville lots.” Saying it aloud it suddenly sounded so stupid.

“Oh! Is that all?”

Spike peeked from between his claws to see that Scootaloo was now leaning terrifyingly close. He flinched back in alarm.

“I learned all about sex from sex-ed!”

“Uh huh.” Spike was decidedly uncomfortable with the proximity and enthusiasm of the young pegasus.

“If you want to have lots of sex you should talk to ponies that also have lots of sex!” the filly told her sagely.

“That... kind of makes sense...”

“Logically how much sex a pony has is directly related to how cool and awesome they are. So the pony who has the most sex has to be the most cool and awesome pony right?”

Spike could see where this was going and it didn't not make sense.

“You have to ask Rainbow Dash for help!”

Of course. It wasn't the best idea but it was an idea. But the only way forward was through wasn't it?

He really didn't have a better idea.

“Thanks, Scootaloo. You've been really helpful.”

“You know...” the fit and toned young filly glanced at the dragon with half lidded eyes. Her eyebrows waggled suggestively. “I could be even more helpful with your problem.” She laid her hoof across his chest.

Was it desperation? Was it a lingering desire for self destruction? For hours after Spike would question the dark motives behind what he agreed to do next.

But really, when the time came for regret, it was far to late for anything.

Wind whipped past Spikes scaly face, he held his crash helmet in place with one claw and gripped the tow rope with the other. Every crunch of the bearings in the skateboard and and bump in the road set his heart racing.

In front of him pegasus wings blurred forcing ever more speed out of the scooter. She was wearing that manic grin she always wore going this fast. Spike couldn't see it, but he could feel it.

There was a produce wagon in the middle of the street because there always was.

Scootaloo hopped it with practiced ease and Spike was dragged through it in a shower of wooden splinters and lettuce.

After doing a full loop of Ponyville to build up the necessary speed there came the ramp. Well not a ramp really. It was the roof of a house that had stood empty for years with two boards to bridge the gap between it and the ground.

Spike released the tow rope amid the shower of ceramic roofing tiles and he soared up into the sky like a majestic bird.

The aged domicile wobbled briefly before exploding into a fireball for no perceivable reason. Possibly due to exposure to excessive amounts of radicalness.

The drag on the crash helmet pushed him back and the helpless tumble began. The night sky and the ground changed places freely and without care.

He no longer knew where he was, where he was going or if he would die. But still he knew that he had accepted the help of a Cutiemark Crusader and that meant he had no one but himself to blame.