A long yawn cracked Twilight Sparkle’s jaw as dawn’s first rays crept in through the library window. On the desk before her sat a completed essay on the meteor shower she had just watched, complete with diagrams, calculations, and an errant smudge of chocolate that meant she would have to copy the entire thing over onto another roll of parchment. Twilight frowned; that was a job for after breakfast.
“This is why Princess Celestia told me never to eat and write,” she said over her shoulder.
A soft snore from that direction drew her attention, and the frown turned into a smile. On a newly setup perch-stand rested Twilight’s new friend: Owlowiscious, the owl who had caught her parchment the night before as it had blown out the window. His head was tucked under a wing as he slept.
“I guess this is your bedtime, isn’t it?” Twilight trotted to the perch and gave him a light nuzzle. “Sorry, but would you mind staying up just a little bit longer?”
Owlowiscious peeked out blearily, earning a giggle.
“Spike should be waking up any minute now, and I want to make sure the two of you get off on the right hoof before I go out.” She paused, hoof on chin. “On the right claw? On the right talon.”
As though on cue, a loud thump came from upstairs, making both mare and owl glance up. There was the creak of a door opening followed by the pitter-patter clawed feet on the stairs.
Twilight nuzzled Owlowiscious again. “That’s him. Remember: the right talon.”
“Who,” Owlowiscious agreed.
As she glanced back at her research paper one final time—if she squinted really hard, the chocolate was barely noticeable—Spike shambled into the room, yawning and stretching.
“Good morning, Twi—” He paused when his eyes fell onto the newcomer. After a moment, he blinked a few times. “What’s that?”
“Who!” Owlowiscious greeted.
“Fine. Who’s that?”
“Spike,” Twilight said, gesturing to Owlowiscious, “this is my new friend, Owlowiscious.” Her hoof swung around to Spike. “Owlowiscious, this is Spike, my number one assistant.”
Spike’s chest puffed out. “Yeah, that’s me. What’s he doing here, though?”
“Owlowiscious is going to be helping me out around here.” Twilight held back another yawn.
“Wait, what?” Spike’s eyes shot open and he fell back a step. “Why do you need another assistant? I can help you with whatever you need around here.”
Twilight trotted over to him. “Not with everything,” she said, patting him on the back. “Baby dragons need sleep, so Owlowiscious will help me during the night.”
“Whooo,” Owlowiscious said slowly. His eyes were fixed on Spike, who gazed back with an almost blank stare.
“I, uh…” Spike shook his head. “It just kind of feels like you’re replacing me.”
“I’m not,” Twilight said right away. “Trust me—you’re still my number-one assistant. I promise.”
Spike didn’t answer; instead he stared at Owlowiscious, craning his head in imitation of the owl, who seemed equally fascinated.
“Spike,” she said again.
He gave a start and glanced back at her. “What?”
“Who?” Owlowiscious asked.
“You’re planning something.” Twilight narrowed her eyes.
“No, I’m—” Spike coughed, looking back and forth between her and Owlowiscious. “I’m just not sure about this.”
By then, the dawn light had transitioned into full-blown morning sunlight, which filled the room with its golden glow. Twilight glanced at the cuckoo clock on the wall—it read 8:50.
“Look, I have to go,” she said with a sigh. “Rarity and I have that yoga class, and…” Her voice trailed off. Spike had gone back to staring at Owlowiscious, eyes narrowed. Not even the mention of Rarity drew his attention. Her horn flared, and a magical spark flashed in the corner of his vision, making him jump. “Hey. Pay attention, Mr. Scheming.”
“I‘m not scheming,” Spike said automatically, glancing at her. “Have fun with your yoga.”
Twilight walked towards the door, then stopped with her hoof on the handle. “You aren’t going to do anything while I’m gone?”
“Of course not,” he said.
“Spike…”
“I won’t!”
She glanced around the library, images flashing through her mind of all the mischief they might get up to with her gone. Food on the ceiling, ink on the carpet, books scattered everywhere, and in the middle of it all, Owlowiscious and Spike each trying their hardest to kill each other--it was not a picture she was fond of.
Her eyes narrowed, and she stared at him for a long moment. “If I come back,” she said at last, “and find even one spot of mess, even one feather out of place, even one book left open without anypony reading it, we’re going to have a very serious talk.”
“Twiliiiight!” Spike whined.
“Fine.” Twilight pushed open the door and walked out. “I’ll be back in a few hours. Get along, you two!”
As the door shut behind her, Spike and Owlowiscious were still staring at each other. Hopefully by the time she returned, they would both still be there in one piece.
The sun beat down on Twilight’s back as she dragged herself back to the library’s front door. Her bi-weekly “yoga” classes with Rarity usually left her tired, but the temperature wasn’t normally so hot outside. However, even though her face was damp with perspiration, she put her ear up against the door instead of pushing in where it would almost certainly be cooler. Spike and Owlowiscious had been preying on her mind all morning with the exception of a few moments here and there. Now that she was home, she was almost scared to go inside.
She strained her hearing, but as hard as she tried, she still couldn’t make out any noises. That wasn’t necessarily a bad sign, but it wasn’t a good one, either.
Gulping loudly, she jerked the handle down and threw the door open.
“Ah ha!” she said. “I knew—” The library was empty “—it.”
The library was as clean as always, but that did nothing to calm her nerves. Spike had disappeared, and Owlowiscious’ perch was conspicuously vacant. Before Twilight could search for them, however, her dry tongue called for attention. She trotted into the dark kitchen, eyes scanning the counter, only to find nothing there. A chill ran down her spine; normally, Spike would have a pitcher of iced tea or lemonade or water or anything sitting out for her after her “yoga” sessions.
“Spike, are you home?” she called, with no response forthcoming.
Her magic snared a glass from the shelf and filled it with water at the tap. The lukewarm water made her shudder, but she downed the whole thing and slammed the glass down all the same.
“Alright, Spike,” she muttered. “What’re you up to?”
She trotted back out into the main room and glanced around, just in case Spike and Owlowiscious had gone out and left a note for her. Just as she completed her search—there was no note, she found—a sharp, pained “Who!” rang out from upstairs. Within moments, she was up the stairs and at her bedroom door, grabbing at the handle.
It was locked tight.
Another strained “Who!” pierced the thick wooden door, making her wince.
“Spike, what did you do to Owlowiscious?” Twilight shouted, pounding with a hoof. “Unlock this door right now, mister!”
“Whoo!” someone cried—Owlowiscious, Twilight could tell.
“Unlock it right now or you’re grounded!” After a few seconds, Twilight’s horn flared and she teleported into her room, which was pitch black. An illumination spell filled the space with a burning purple light. “What did you…do?” Her voice faltered as she took in the scene.
The curtains were drawn shut. To her left, Spike stood at the foot of her bed, rocking back and forth on his heels and staring at the ground. To the right, Owlowiscious was perched on the bed’s headboard, gaze similarly focused on anything other than Twilight.
And right in front of her was Spike’s little basket, lying on its side with all the blankets thrown about.
“What is this?” Twilight asked hoarsely. She reached back and flicked the light switch on, then let her illumination spell vanish.
“Well, um…” Spike gave a cough. “We were, uh…”
“Who,” Owlowiscious supplied, staring up.
“Yeah,” Spike said, “we were, um, practicing this new wrestling move I read about, and, uh…”
Twilight let a scowl twist her face. “You were practicing a wrestling move.”
“Who,” Owlowiscious said.
“In Spike’s bed,” she went on.
Spike gulped. “Yep.”
“Together.” The scowl deepened.
Both Spike and Owlowiscious nodded.
“Okay,” she said, nodding with them. “If that’s what you say happened, then I believe you.”
Spike grinned and stepped forward. “You do?”
“Of course not!” Twilight’s sharp voice sent him on his heels, and Owlowiscious winced. “Who would buy that story?” She let out a long sigh, rubbing at the bridge of her nose. “I leave you two alone for one morning, and this is what you do?”
“Look, Twi,” Spike began, “I know this looks bad, but—”
A short laugh from Twilight cut him off. “Bad? It looks bad? Spike, ‘bad’ is when I come home and both my Number One Assistant and my new pet are missing. ‘Bad’ is when I’m thirsty and there’s nothing cold to drink. ‘Bad’ is when I get out of bed in the morning and bang my knee on the nightstand. But coming upstairs to find that you’ve done—done—done things with an owl?” She laughed again. “Spike, that’s not bad. That’s so far from bad, you have no idea.”
“Soooo…” Spike scuffed his foot against the floor. “It’s good?”
“No!”
"Who!” Owlowiscious snapped, drawing Twilight’s glare.
“I don’t want to hear that ‘who’ from you, mister,” she shot back. Her horn lit up, and a purple aura appeared around Owlowiscious. “You’re coming with me.”
“Whooooo!” His wings beat furiously, but he was caught up in her spell; she dragged him across the room to the door.
“Hey, where are you taking him?” Spike started forward only to be stopped by a sudden glare.
“You are going to wash your sheets,” Twilight said as Owlowiscious shrieked and flapped behind her. “And then you’re going to stay in this room until I say otherwise. Do you understand?”
“But—”
“Do you understand?”
Spike let his arms drop. “Yes, Twilight.”
“Good.”
She slammed the door and trotted back downstairs. Owlowiscious kept trying to fly away to no avail. Errant feathers littered the stairs behind her.
“I hate to do this,” Twilight said to him, fixing him with a glare, “but you’ve really left me no choice.”
Owlowiscious shrunk back as best as he could, which apparently wasn’t very well considering how he was currently held suspended in mid-air. That didn’t stop his little body from trembling at the cruel glint that appeared in Twilight’s eye.
“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry,” she said, hauling him brusquely towards the back door.
The last thing to be heard before the door slammed shut behind them was poor Owlowiscious’ terrified shriek.
Spike was on his back, legs kicking in the air when the door finally opened to admit Twilight. She walked past him without a word, hopping onto the bed. A book floated up and fell open in front of her. Spike stared at her, but she didn’t so much as glance in his direction.
After a few minutes, he spoke up. “What happened to Owlowiscious?”
“Don’t worry about Owlowiscious,” Twilight said, still reading. With a sharp motion, she used her nose to flip the page. “He isn’t going to be a problem anymore.”
“Where is he?” Spike dry-swallowed.
Twilight flipped another page. “I said don’t worry about him.”
“How can’t I?” Spike said, voice hoarse. “I—I loved him, and you want me to just forget him?”
A long silence fell over the room. Twilight still stared at her book, but her eyes weren’t reading it. The quiet went on until beads of sweat formed on Spike’s forehead.
“You loved him?” Twilight said at last.
“Yeah.” He swallowed again. “Yeah I did.”
“Then it’s a good thing I ended this early,” Twilight said.
“Why’s that?”
Twilight sighed and closed the book, finally looking his way. “Spike, you’re a baby dragon. You clearly don’t know what love is. What you felt for Owlowiscious—”
“What I feel, you mean,” Spike cut in.
Twilight scowled at him. “What you felt,” she said, “was—was—well I honestly have no idea what it actually was, but I know what it wasn’t. It wasn’t love.”
“Yes it was,” he said. When she snorted, he stomped his foot. “What we had was real! We loved each other!”
“No you didn’t,” Twilight said with another snort.
“How do you know that?”
“Well, to start, you’ve only known each other for, what—three hours now? Look.” She sighed deeply. “Although you should, you don’t have to understand it—just trust me on this. When you’re older, you’ll thank me for keeping you from being ‘that guy who sleeps with owls’.”
Spike squared his shoulders. “Who’re you to decide that for me?”
“Your legal caretaker,” she said without pause.
“You know what I think?” Spike hopped onto the bed and frowned at her. “I don’t think Owlowiscious being an owl has anything to do with it. I don’t think that has anything to do with it at all.”
“What are you trying to say?” Twilight gave him a flat stare.
“I think you don’t like the idea of two guys being together!”
Twilight blinked. “What?”
“You heard me!” he shouted.
“You can’t be serious,” she said. “That has nothing to do with it.”
“I totally am, and it totally does. Admit it.”
She shook her head. “Spike, I don’t think you want to do this,” she said, voice low and dangerous.
“I might have expected this from Rainbow Dash, but you?” Spike snorted. “Twilight, I’m disappointed.” As he went on, Twilight’s expression grew more and more stormy.
“Okay, you know what?” she snapped, coming forward. “I warned you. This has nothing to do with whether you’re both guys or girls or whatever, because that doesn’t matter to me. If you want proof, then fine. You know all those yoga lessons I’ve been taking with Rarity?”
“Of course I do,” Spike said.
“They haven’t really been yoga lessons.”
Spike’s brow furrowed, and then he gasped. “No way.”
“Yes way.”
“But—” he sputtered. “But—you and her—twice a week—” His eyes watered up. “How could you?”
“Oh don’t give me that,” Twilight said as she fell back. “I wanted to spare your feelings, but then you had to force my hoof by throwing around wild accusations.”
“Y-yeah, well—” Spike wiped at his eyes. “I’m over her anyway. The only one that matters to me is Owlowiscious.”
“You mean mattered,” Twilight said.
“What does that mean?”
Twilight opened the book back up and turned her attention to it, cheeks red. “It means I’ve taken care of Owlowiscious.”
“You’ve taken care of him?” Spike said as his eyes widened. “Does that mean what it sounds like?”
“Probably,” Twilight answered.
“Twilight… where is he?”
Twilight flipped a page. “He’s at the farm.”
“You killed him?” Spike shrieked.
Before Twilight could answer, the door downstairs banged open. She hopped from the bed and galloped out of the room, Spike close on her heels.
“I can’t believe you!” he said, tears leaking down his face. “I can’t believe you murdered your own friend!”
“Take it easy,” Twilight said dryly.
They came to the bottom of the stairs to find Fluttershy standing by the front door. She inspected the wall behind it before turning to Twilight.
“I’m sorry for banging the door so loudly,” she said, hoof contritely over her mouth. “I—I think I left a mark on the wall.”
Twilight glared back at Spike. “Don’t worry too much about it. Mr. Animal Lover here needs some chores to do anyway, so that’ll be number one.”
“I’m not doing any more chores for you!” Spike wailed. “Not after what you did!”
“Oh, my.” Fluttershy shrunk back. “Is this a bad time?”
Twilight rolled her eyes and pushed Spike behind her. “Of course not. He just thinks I took Owlowiscious out back and slaughtered him with my bare hooves.”
“Murderer!” Spike yelled, coming around only to be shoved back again. “I’ll never forgive you!”
“Don’t worry, Spike,” Fluttershy said in a warm voice, “Owlo—Owlolo—Owlowowl—”
“Owlowiscious,” Twilight offered.
“Yes, Owlascivious is perfectly fine.” Fluttershy reached out the open door and retrieved a large cage.
A large cage that held a decidedly less animated Owlowiscious. The poor bird sagged forward, eyebrows hanging low while he made tired panting sounds.
“Owlowiscious!” Spike ran forward to hug the cage. “You’re alive!”
Twilight sighed. “Of course he’s alive.”
“Who?” Owlowiscious said in a voice that sounded suspiciously sarcastic.
“But what happened to him?” Spike glanced up. “He sounds different.”
“Oh, well, um—” Fluttershy cleared her throat. “Well, Spike, when two healthy animals get together and hug, they sometimes make babies, and—”
“I had him fixed,” Twilight cut in. “I took him to the farm, where Fluttershy fixed him.”
Fluttershy gave Twilight a short glance. “Yes, Twilight asked me to ‘fix’ him, although I don’t like that word because—”
“Fluttershy, can we not?” Twilight said with a sigh. “It’s been a very long day.”
“I understand.” Fluttershy opened the cage, and Owlowiscious flew out slowly and unevenly up to his perch. His eyes blinked out of sync with each other.
“Who…” he agreed.
“So,” Fluttershy said, looking at Spike sidelong, “how was your, um—your ‘yoga’ this morning?”
“Don’t worry about it.” Twilight gave a long sigh. “He already knows."
"Oh," Fluttershy said shortly.
After a moment, Twilight waved at the kitchen. "Would you like a drink?”
“Oh yes," Fluttershy said with a soft cough. "Yes, that would be, um, lovely. Just—just lovely.”
They pranced into the kitchen, leaving Spike behind to give Owlowiscious a forlorn gaze. He walked up to the perch-stand.
“Well, um, I guess we both learned something today,” he said.
Owlowiscious turned bleary eyes down. “Who?”
“Yeah.” Spike glanced around to make sure Twilight had left before a wide, toothy grin spread across his face. “Now you know why you shouldn’t ever try to replace me.”
Twilight’s head appeared from the kitchen and fixed Spike with a flat stare. “Hey, are you done fixing that spot on the wall yet?”
“I’m on it, Twi!” he said with a salute. “Number one assistant, ready for duty!” Once more, before scampering off to the supply closet, he flashed a smile Owlowiscious’ way.
“And don’t you forget it.”
Author's Note
That evening, Spike took a tray of cookies and milk over to Twilight's desk, where she was hard at work copying diagrams into a notebook. On the other side of the desk, Owlowiscious glared impotently. Spike slid the food beside her and made to walk away, but his footsteps faltered. After a moment's hesitation, he looked up.
"Twilight," he said slowly, "you wouldn't do that to me, would you?"
"Hm?" she mumbled.
"You... wouldn't have me fixed if I did something wrong?"
She flipped a page and scanned it before returning to her scribbling. "No, of course not." Just as Spike was about to walk away, she added, "You can talk."
He paused again, twiddling his thumbs. "And—and because you love me and wouldn't want to force that kind of thing on me without my consent, right?"
"Uh." Twilight glanced up for the first time. "Oh, right. Yes. That, too. But mostly it's the talking thing."
"Who!" Owlowiscious protested.
Twilight snorted, then returned to her diagrams. "That doesn't count."
