Prologue: In Which Spike's Misery Begins

“Spike? Spiiiiiike!”

As the cry echoes around the apartment, Spike cracks open an eye with a groan. Glancing blearily around, he barely has time to awaken before he is yanked out of his basket by a rosy aura.

Held aloft, he blinks as the blurry lavender face in front of him slowly comes into focus. The large smile on Twilight’s muzzle would have sent anyone else running, but to him, it was business as usual.

“There you are!” she chirps. “I’ve been looking all over for you! Come on, I need your help.” Without waiting for a reply, she turns and trots happily out of the room, all while levitating the baby dragon behind her.

“What time is it?” Spike asks through a yawn. Rubbing at his eyes, he peers at a passing window only to groan again. “Twilight, the stars are still out. What time is it?”

“It’s about four in the morning,” Twilight answers.

“Twilight, it’s too early for this.”

Twilight scoffs. “Nonsense! I’m just finishing up with some late-night experimenting.”

“Finishing up… Twilight, did you even go to bed yet?”

“Nope,” Twilight chirps. “I have to finish up with these spells before morning if I want to be able to show them to the Princess. Now, come on Spike, this will only take a few minutes.” With that, he was unceremoniously deposited onto a large pile of pillows. Unable to stop himself, he sinks headfirst into the pile, the plush pillows pushing in around him and smothering him.

As Spike struggles desperately to free himself, Twilight flips through a tome held in her magic. “Let’s see here. Redecoration… Refrigeration… Ah! Here we are! Regeneration!” Scanning the page for a few seconds, she nods once before closing the book. “Alright, let’s do this.” Turning, she pauses upon seeing Spike, still buried head-first in the pillows and still struggling to free himself.

A frown crosses her face.

“Come on, Spike, this is serious,” she says as her horn lights up. A rosy aura surrounds the struggling dragon, and he’s yanked out of the pile. Once freed, he gasps for breath, his face a slight blue-tinge.

“We don’t have time to fool around,” Twilight continues as she places him down upon a large pillow. “I need to perfect this spell in the next—” she glances at the clock on the wall “—three hours if I want to be able to show Princess Celestia before Day Court.”

“And what spell are you learning, exactly,” Spike asks, fighting back a yawn. Sleep still clung to his senses, and he wanted nothing more than to go back to bed. He had stayed up late last night putting all of the books from Twilight’s last research session back on the shelves, and now it looked like he was going to have to do it again. Books littered the room, stacked one on top of the other in large piles that were easily triple his height. And when he finally got all of those back on the shelves, Twilight would have already started another research project.

It was a vicious cycle of pain and weariness.

“Regeneration,” Twilight says before lifting a large, serrated knife in her magic.

Spike is no longer asleep.

Spike is also no longer comfortable with his current situation.

Spike’s bladder is also debating whether or not it should jettison its load.

“Now, hold still,” Twilight says before descending upon him with the knife.

Spike tries to run, but finds himself held in place by a cloud of magic. Brandishing the knife, Twilight grabs one of his arms and, with no hesitation, uses the teeth of the knife to cut through the scales and into the skin. Pain lances up Spike’s arm as blood begins to flow, dripping to the floor below where it slowly began to pool.

“There,” Twilight says happily as she releases her hold on the dragon. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?” Spike shot her a tearful glare, but she missed it. “Now, to test out the spell!” Her horn begins to glow again, and a cloud of magic surrounds the wounded arm. Slowly, the wound begins to glow, small glints of light dancing across the edges. A strange tingling sensation runs up Spike’s arm, followed by a pleasant warmth. The glow begins to intensify, as does the tingling and the heat. Then, in a flash of light…

...there came the sound of flatulence as the spell suddenly dies, leaving Spike still dripping blood on the floor.

“W-what?” Twilight gasps. “B-but, that doesn’t… that should have… why didn’t that work?” Ears folding against her head, she begins to pace back and forth.

Rolling his eyes, Spike uses a pillowcase to attempt to staunch the bleeding. The material quickly becomes stained crimson. Holding the pillowcase to his arm, and his arm above his head, Spike waddles over to the tome Twilight had been reading. Luckily enough, it appears as though Twilight has bookmarked the page. He kicks the book open, even as Twilight trots past him, muttering under her breath. “I followed every step perfectly. Why didn’t it…”

Spike eyes the spread book curiously while attempting to keep from dripping blood on it. On one page, the words ‘Regeneration’ stare back at him. The pages are covered in magical theory and mathematics the likes of which Spike cannot even hope to understand, but which must make sense to Twilight. Nonetheless, he scans the page for information.

After a few seconds he spies something. It appears that at some point somepony has torn a page from the book.

Curiosity piqued, Spike uses his foot to turn to the table of contents.

“Huh… Regeneration, page 321. Reincarnation, page 323. Hey Twilight,” he calls over his shoulder. “I think I figured out the problem.”

Lost in her own little world, Twilight doesn’t hear him.

“I did everything right. Maybe… maybe I just didn’t use enough power…” she mutters under her breath.

“Somepony tore a page from the book,” Spike continues. “You are mixing the regeneration spell with a theoretically reincarnation spell.”

“That’s it. That’s gotta be it! I just need to use more power.”

“That’s why the spell didn’t work. You’re using the wrong equation.”

“More power, and the spell should work."

“Now, how about you take me to the nurse, okay?”

“Alright, let’s do this!”

Whipping about, Twilight’s horn lights up. There is a flash of white light.

Spike’s head explodes.

Author's Note

Drunk writing is best writing.