Man About Town

by Mr Unsmiley

Rating: mature
Tags: Princess Celestia, Slice of Life, Human, Main 6, Princess Luna, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Spike, Comedy, Romance, Fancypants, Sex
Length: 70234

Spike needs to rein in his swagger. Luckily, Fancy Pants decides to aid him.

Being attractive isn't easy.
During his stay in Canterlot, Spike's appearance changes drastically, making him an unwilling target in a predominantly female country. Luckily for him, Fancy Pants is around to teach him how to refine himself, so that he may fend off the common skank and save his virtue for those more deserving.

Yes, this is the harem story you've been waiting for.

Published 2012-07-11 16:34:02 UTC
Last updated 2014-12-19 15:31:31 UTC

The Ones Who Have Cherished Your Company

The young boy stared at the door for minutes after she had left, the fake smile he had plastered on his face not yet beginning to crack.

Sighing heavily, he forced his feet to move himself back to the kitchen, where he dumped Twilight’s half-eaten meal in the trash and picked up the broom by its worn handle. He pocketed the gem that had once again been his birthday present to himself, mentally noting to go to Rarity’s later on in the day to place an order for Twilight’s rapidly diminishing wardrobe; to be fair, going out on missions for the Princess could be life-threatening at times.

He stared listlessly at the floor, his mind blank as he went through the motions.

After all, thirteen years old was just another number, wasn’t it?

Spike stirred from his rest as he felt something—rather, someone—brush against his side. He looked over blearily to find a familiar face with blue and pink hair looking back at him. A lovely, satisfied smile was on her face.

“Morning.”

Ugh…use your words, Spike. “Morning, Bonbon. You…sleep well?”

She sighed as she draped her leg over his bare waist. “Like a baby. I’m just afraid Lyra still might be upset about not getting another turn.”

Struggling to think through the mixed haze of lust and sleepiness, Spike dumbly noted the morning wood that had made its presence known. “Oh man, I really overstayed my welcome last night, didn’t I? I should’ve gotten back to my dorm, but—”

Bonbon silenced him with a gentle kiss on the lips, slipping her tongue inside slightly as she pressed down on top of him.

She looked at him, tracing his jawline with adoration as her firm breasts rubbed against his chest. “Don’t ever apologize for last night, Spike.” She rubbed her nose against his cutely. “That was some of the best sex I’ve ever had, and I’m not just saying that.”

She ground her hips against his as she moved down his body, a playful smirk on her face. “You’re always welcome here, Spike. Especially right here.”

His eyes rolled back as she took him into her mouth.

Spike mouthed a shh to Bonbon as they tiptoed out of the bedroom, catching sight of the sleeping teal-haired woman sprawled out on the couch. She was still dressed in her pants and bra from the previous night, lying face down and drowning out the television with her snores.

Bonbon whispered into his ear, “She’s a really deep sleeper, so don’t be afraid to get creative.”

She pinched him on the butt playfully as he stepped lightly over the discarded clothes from last night’s lovemaking.

Spike pulled her pants down gently, taking a long, appreciative stare at her ass. It wasn’t quite as thick as Bonbon’s, but darker in color and made up in firmness what it lacked in size.

She must work out. He bit back a mischievous grin as he prepared to wake up his new friend, positioning his member directly in front of her naked bottom.

He wasted no time, rolling his hips into hers in one fluid motion, biting back a sigh as he sank fully into her.

Lyra awoke with a start, gasping at the sudden sensation of being filled up. She swiveled her head around, eyes widening as she saw Spike thrusting into her from behind.

“W-what are you…” she trailed off as she slowly closed her eyes, humming as she bit into the fabric of the couch.

Spike chuckled boyishly as he leaned in close to her ear, hands still gripped firmly on her ass.

“I still owed you one from last night, so I’m making it up to you.” Every push into her caused a small squeal to escape from her mouth, something Spike found immensely gratifying after her display of power the night before.

She wrapped her bare feet around his waist, moaning as he gripped her by the shoulders. “Why…didn’t you take my clothes off first?”

Spike shrugged, only lately realizing that she couldn’t see him doing it. “I dunno, you just look really sexy wearing pants is all. Makes you look more powerful.”

Lyra hid her blush by putting her face against the couch, her head ramming into the pillow repeatedly. “Thanks…” She moaned as she felt an orgasm building up inside of her, spurred on by Spike’s steady pumping and the weight of him on her back. A few more seconds, and she would—

Spike groaned as he pulled out, not having an orgasm himself, but rather a bored look on his face. He looked around as he stretched, putting his pants back on. “I’m hungry, you guys have anything to eat in here?”

Lyra stared at him incredulously, her face still flushed and ass still raised in the air. “W-what?”

He hovered lazily around the room, scratching his cheek boyishly as Bonbon walked out of the bedroom, fully clothed. “I mean, we could go out and get something, if you don’t. We might even find two hot babes with an apartment and ulterior motives.”

He winked at Lyra, chuckling as she blustered angrily at being denied her chance to finish. “What the hell is wrong with you! Get back over here and finish fucking m—”

She was unable to finish her sentence, before the young man stepped before her, softly pushing her back down to the couch, a finger on her lips.

“Hush.”

Bonbon leant over the counter, grinning crookedly as Lyra glared in frustration at the teasing green-haired boy.

He leant down, straddling her as he pushed Lyra further against the wall as his bare chest pressed against her. Her anger was quickly forgotten as she flushed with excitement.

“Here’s the thing, Lyra.”

Spike brushed a hand through her hair, looking at it distractedly as he spoke to her.

“See, I’m not some little boy who thinks he just got to bed two gorgeous women because they decided they wanted a good time.” He glanced at her with purpose, green eyes lidded as his hand moved down to rub her back slowly. “I came home with you last night because I decided that if I was going to start having sex,” Hers and Bonbon’s eyes widened at this, “then it might as well be with the two of you.”

He had a cocky grin as he slid off of her, snapping off her bra as he went. “Truth is, I’m hot.” Spike pinched her on the cheek as she stared dumbly at him, breasts hanging out as she moved to climb over him. “I know I am, you know I am, and Bonqueesha over here sure knows it.”

“Fa real, shawty.” Bonbon called from the kitchen.

Spike looked at Lyra intently, his eyes measuring her; sweaty with anticipation, angry at the lack of release, and dumb with arousal.

Perfect.

“So tell me, Lyra. Do you want to feel me?” He laughed inwardly at her reaction.

“I can see where this is going…” She gritted her teeth at the repeat of last night’s conversation, only now the one on the losing side.

Spike looked at his nails disinterestedly as he waited for her response. “Well?”

She groaned. “Yes…”

He hugged his chest against hers, feeling his ego fairly satisfied as she gasped and immediately rubbed against his abs. “Do you want to know how firm I am? Do you want to know what I can really do to you?”

She moaned, his mouth now on her neck, tongue massaging her in little circles. “Yes!” She clutched at his shoulders as she tried to grind into him, only for his knee to gently place itself in her stomach, blocking her.

He growled as he clutched at her arms, pinning them to the wall as he pushed her back against the couch, flipping their positions. “Do you want me to take you, right here, again and again? Use you like my toy until you can’t walk because you’re sore? Do you want me to put your footprints on the fucking ceiling?”

She nearly came on the spot at the idea. “Yes, yes, yes!”

Spike smirked, stopping all contact as he rose from the couch.

A quick glance to the kitchen. Bonbon shook her head, cracking up silently as her friend thoroughly tortured her girlfriend. Spike looked back down at Lyra, panting desperately as she spread her legs for him, practically asking him to finish what he started.

A smirk. “Then beg for it.”

Her eyes turned as wide as dinner plates.
“You magnificent bastard."
She got to her knees, grabbing Spike by the legs as she pulled him closer.

“Oh gorgeous and incredibly well-endowed Spike, I come to you as a humble woman of simple needs. Verily I say unto you, I desire the grace of your gifted tongue and the vigor of your enticing girth.” She rolled her eyes as he snorted in laughter, continuing her deadpan speech. “Please, oh sexy one, spoil me with that which I do not deserve and shoot me with your love gun.”

Spike and Bonbon clutched their sides in laughter as Lyra waited for them to stop.

Spike wiped a tear from his eye as he calmed down. “Haha, I guess I’ll have to take that.”

He looked to her with a smirk on his face, caressing her face gently. “Undress me.”

Seconds later, his pants hit Bonbon in the face.

“Suck.” Lyra eagerly took his entire length inside her mouth, with somewhat practiced ease. He groaned as her nose brushed against his balls, before she moved her head back, preparing for another stroke with her tongue. Her head bobbed up and down his sizable manhood, tongue curling around the head and flicking against the flare of his penis.

Spike pulled her back by her hair, something that Lyra secretly found immensely arousing. His dick popped out of her mouth. “Okay, that’s enough for now. On the table.” Lyra immediately obliged him, her breasts pressing into the glass as she sat on her knees, ankles crossed and bottom pointing out.

Bonbon whistled, impressed, as she poured a bowl of cereal. “Damn, son. Not many guys can pull out of a blowjob like that.”

Spike grinned as he too sat on his knees, directly behind Lyra. “They would if they knew what was coming next.” He grabbed Lyra by the hips, licking vigorously at her as she screamed in surprise.

He flicked his tongue across her slit before moving up to wrap his tongue around the small bump of her womanhood. He cherished her moans, knowing they were all for the amazing things he was making her feel.

“Sp-Spike!” She gripped the table as she twitched uncontrollably, pressing even further down into the table as her toes dug into the carpet.

He slapped her ass harshly, feeling pleased as she let out a yelp of surprise.

An idea crossed his mind as Lyra squirmed even more beneath him. His eyes rolled back in a silly grin as he grasped her buttocks and moved his tongue back to her nub.

“LELELELELELELE!”

“AH!” Lyra could help but laugh and moan at the same time. “This isn’t *snort* fucking funny!” She laughed as she came explosively, trembling as Spike climbed over her and kissed her firmly, making sure she tasted herself.

Her legs felt weak, and she couldn’t trust herself to walk. Lyra twisted herself so that her back was against the table, arms draped casually as her legs spread. “So, boss, are you ready to show me a thing or two? Or is that all you’ve got?”

Spike snorted. “Nigga please. I’m nowhere near done with you yet.” He pushed her back onto the table, her legs hooked around his neck in a lustful embrace.

He prepared to push into her, then thought better of it. “On second thought, it might not be such a good idea to fuck your brains out on a glass table.”

Bonbon called out from the kitchen, “Oh, don’t worry about that. We’ve tested that table multiple times, it’s fuck-resistant.”

Spike shrugged. “If you say so.” He placed his manhood against Lyra’s bottom, flush against her once-exit.

“Oh! Lyra’s never had it in the ass before, so be gentle.” Bonbon yelled from the kitchen. She pulled up a chair, watching them prepare to fuck as she ate her Cheerios.

Lyra pouted as Spike spread her, preparing to enter. “But I poop from there…”

Spike rolled his eyes, slowly pushing the tip into her as she gasped in pain. Bonbon approached her. “Don’t worry, honey, it hurts at first, I know. It gets better soon, trust me.” She cupped Lyra’s face.

“B-but it hurts!” She whined, now half of Spike’s length inside of her.

Bonbon snorted as she pulled back, sitting on her chair again. “Geez Lyra, you’re not going to split in half. Stop being such a little bitch.”

Lyra gaped at her girlfriend’s attitude. “Well fuck you too!”

Bonbon smiled lovingly. “Later, dear.”

Lyra chose not to respond, instead adopting the pained expression that a person usually has when they have a dick in their ass. She panted as Spike’s full length finally stopped moving, burying himself fully in her.

Spike was panting himself, leaning in close and licking her on the lips. “So? How is it?”

She loved how red his face was, his manhood enveloped fully by her own ass. “Just…just give me a few.”

Spike obediently waited for her to adjust, despite the urge to start bucking into her clawing at his mind. A gentleman must always show restraint, he could imagine Fancy Pants saying.

Wait, why am I thinking of another man in his mid-thirties while I’m having sex?

He chose not to venture down that train of thought.

Lyra nodded absently, pulling Spike in closer with her legs as she grunted huskily. “Okay, I think I’m ready now.” She gasped as he rolled his hips. “Y-you’re so deep.”

Spike instead focused on pulling out of her; seeing as she was fairly tighter than Bonbon, he constantly had to fight the urge to ravish Lyra completely. “Wow, I knew you were a tight-ass, but this is a little much.”

Lyra rolled her eyes at the pun, softly gasping as he pulled out as far as his tip, before sliding back in. She closed her eyes, focusing entirely on the sensations he was giving her. Each time he pumped into her, she let out a little “Ah!”, encouraging him to push even deeper and harder. Eventually, they were managing a few strokes every few seconds, her legs bobbing wildly in the air on Spike’s shoulders as he had his way with her.

He felt the curve of her ass as he spread her cheeks even further, kissing her deeply and feeling her moans vibrate through his mouth.

“Come,” Spike spoke, breaking the kiss long enough to utter the single word.

Lyra let out a final gasp, arching her back and curling her toes as her orgasm wracked her body. Spike grunted, taking a few more seconds as she clamped down even harder on his member, slapping into her ass crudely as he came inside her.

Lyra moaned as she felt his hot seed enter her ass, not bothering to move yet. Instead, she lowered her legs from Spike’s neck, pulling him up toward her and snaking her arms around his head, ensnaring him in a kiss. One lone hand journeyed further below, gripping his ass firmly as he smiled into their kiss.

Bonbon clapped proudly from her chair, smiling grandly as her worn-out girlfriend rested on the table, positively radiating satisfaction. “Beautiful performance people, simply beautiful.”

Spike pulled his boxers on as he began to get dressed, grinning down at the still naked Lyra. “So? How was it for you?”

She stayed quiet for a while, still trying to catch her breath after two incredible but exhausting orgasms. “There’s no way we’re not doing this again, you guys.” She finally said.

Bonbon agreed. “Like I said before, you’re always welcome here Spike.” She narrowed her eyes sexily. “Any day of the week, I’d say.”

Spike laughed good-naturedly. “That good, huh? I just might take you up on that.” He pulled on his shirt and smoothed his hair back. “Maybe next time we could go out and do something? I’ll treat you two to dinner. Before you ravish me in the streets, I mean.”

Bonbon and Lyra blinked simultaneously, before genuine smiles broke out on both of their faces.

Lyra spoke up from the table. “I think we’d really like that.”

Spike stalked angrily out of the Carousel Boutique, unable to stand the sight of Rarity fawning over another handsome customer. He attributed her impatience with him to the mission she had just returned from with Twilight and the others, but he knew that she would rather be alone with the customer.

With him.

He was gone before she could remember that she too had forgotten his birthday.

After exchanging numbers, Spike left his new best friends, promising to visit soon. He made his way back to his quarters at the palace, grinning with all the confidence of a man who just had mind-blowing sex multiple times in the past couple hours.

So, what the hell am I writing to the Princess about this one?

He nodded to the guards respectfully as they granted him access to the castle, finding the familiar passageway to his suite. He pulled his keys out as he approached the door, only to find it unlocked.

That’s strange…and fairly ominous. He opened the door, his eyes immediately finding the purple-haired woman sitting on his bed.

“Twilight?”

She smirked as she swung her legs playfully. “Hey, stranger! Been a while, hasn’t it?”

Four years, as a matter of fact.

Her eyes were just beginning to tear away from the book she was reading. “I was told this was your room, but you weren’t here when I showed up.”

She finally glanced up, her next words falling out of her mouth. “I, uh…wow.”

Spike shrugged. “That’s the usual reaction.”

Twilight shook the blush off her face, her hand rubbing her cheek in embarrassment. “Sorry, you just look…really, really different.” Her eyes raced up and down his body, half out of curiosity, and half out of slight interest.

Spike stood awkwardly in the middle of the floor as Twilight quite obviously eyed him up and down. “Are we gonna hug, or something…?”

Twilight immediately jumped up from the bed, wrapping her arms around him burying her head in his chest.

He rolled his eyes as she tried to smell him covertly.

“You’ve changed so much,” came her muffled voice.

“I know,” came his reply.

Twilight pulled back, her eyes glistening as she looked up at him. “We haven’t seen each other for years, Spike. How come you never came to see me? How come you never wanted to see me when I was in Canterlot?”

Great, now it’s this question. “I was in hibernation, Twilight. Princess Luna tutored me through my dreams, but I was in the equivalent of a coma.”

Twilight mouthed an oh, before resting her head back on his chest. “Your vocabulary has gotten bigger too.”

Spike smirked. Of course that would get her attention. “Impressed, I take it?”

Twilight nodded good-humoredly. “Very!” She sat back down on the bed, swinging her legs again as she studied the young man in front of her. Spike examined her as well.

She was wearing a white blouse, covered by her favorite purple argyle sweater-vest, along with a black pencil skirt and small black shoes.

He made sure to limit how often he looked at her bare legs.

She looked confused as she stared at his outfit for the first time. “You look nice, but your clothes are really rumpled, and you smell like sweat.” She blushed mildly as she considered the possible answers to her next question. “Have you been busy? Running around, I mean.”

He smells like sex, she said to herself.

I smell like sex, he said to himself.

Spike rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, actually. I was on my way back here so I could get showered and change.” He ambled over to his drawer, pulling out a more casual shirt, green in color, and a pair of black jeans.

Twilight banished a perverted thought that immediately sprung to the front of her mind at the first mention of a shower. “Oh! That’s good, the sooner you do that, the sooner we can get going!”

He paused. “Going where?”

Twilight grinned. “Back home, of course!” She fanned her arms out in an excited posture. “Surprise!”

Spike turned rigid, before remembering who he was in front of and deciding to stay calm. “Alright, I guess. I take it you already asked the Princesses?”

Twilight bobbed her head excitedly up and down.

He shrugged. “Alright then, just give me a few minutes and I’ll be ready.”

Spike looked at Twilight on the bed, leaning back, hands planted firmly on the mattress and legs sticking out. A pleasant expression was on her face.

I could take her, right now, and she would let me. Her wandering eyes confirmed it.

He sighed. But I won’t. Spike smiled to himself as he turned around, a mischievous thought dashing through his mind.

Doesn’t mean I can’t mess with her, though. He hooked his hands under his dress shirt, pulling it off and flinging it into the dirty clothes hamper he kept in the corner of his room.

He cherished the way Twilight’s eyes nearly burst out of their sockets, almost instantly molesting his chest with her eyes.

“I’ve got some food in the cabinets over there if you’re hungry, and some leftover sweet potato casserole in the fridge if you want some dessert. I’ll be right out, okay?” He pretended to be oblivious to the effects he was having on her, stretching lazily as Twilight drank in the sight of him.

Silence.

He waited a suitable amount of time for the ‘realization’ that Twilight wasn’t replying to him to sink in. “Really, Twilight? My eyes are up here.” He faked disappointment as Twilight flailed in embarrassment.

“I’m sorry, I just—I mean, I was—” Her face was as red as an apple.

Spike just pinched his nose, milking his act a little further. “Just wait there, okay?”

“Okay.” She squeaked from her place on the couch.

Perfect. He grinned as he walked into his bathroom.

Twilight had been reluctant, but respectful of his wishes. He had claimed that Princess Luna understood dragons much more than most anyone alive, generally because she was among the few to survive an encounter with one; taking her up on her offer to take him on as her student was a chance he couldn’t risk ignoring.

His reasoning was pure in Twilight’s eyes, but the truth was that he very seriously needed to get away from this town for a while. In truth, he knew few people his age, and did little more than chores at the library.

He rarely went out with Twilight and her friends anymore, much less help when they were in actual danger. This already in mind, he had originally believed that the day couldn’t get much worse than it already had, having his best friend forgetting his birthday and the one he loved dismissing him with little more than a thought.

Yeah right, he thought to himself.

When Pinkie Pie herself hadn’t made a single appearance all day, the one woman who always remembered every single one of her friend’s birthdays, he had already made arrangements to move back to Canterlot indefinitely.

It was dusk when he sent the letter.

Spike and Twilight stepped out of the wildly decorated train, marveling at the beautiful sunset.

“Let’s go, Spike! The others are waiting on us!” Twilight pulled Spike by the arm and ran, the teenager lugging their heavy bags on one shoulder as if they weighed nothing.

They stopped at the library, nostalgia sweeping through his mind as Spike felt a strange twinge of paranoia.

Why do I get the feeling that I’m being watched?

Twilight unlocked the door. Immediately, a party horn blasted into their faces, a blueberry pie slamming into Spike’s face as he stumbled backwards.

“Sur-PIES!” Pinkie’s face grinned as she beheld her handiwork.

“How did you get inside my house?!” Twilight screeched as she tried to help Spike to his feet. “We were supposed to meet at the restaurant after we dropped our stuff off!”

Pinkie Pie put her hands on her hips, grinning at Twilight playfully. “Really, Twilight? Are we gonna go through this again?”

Twilight facepalmed.

Spike sputtered as he got up, trying to wipe the residue from his face. “What the heck was that for?”

A shit-eating grin. “Comedy!”

Spike grunted as he grabbed his shirt, removing it carefully so as to keep any of the pie from staining it. He stumbled into the library, toward a sink.

Pinkie Pie gasped as she realized that, going by his build, she just pelted a fairly attractive young man that may or may not have been single.

She waved her hands frantically. “No, wait, I’m sorry! Here, let me lick it off of you!”

Twilight growled as she floated Pinkie Pie away from the cringing teenager. “Oh no you don’t!”

Spike muttered a word of thanks before running his face under the stream of water. After it was thoroughly scrubbed, he reached for a towel.

A voice called out. “Hey Twilight, who’s the stud? And is he single?”

He slowly removed the towel from his face, narrowing his eyes at the source. He spotted Rainbow Dash sitting on the stairs examining him, recognition shining in her eyes as she looked him up and down, then down again, then back up.

Applejack gawked from the other side of the room. “Spike? Is that you?”

Fluttershy’s eyes widened immeasurably. “Oh my…”

Rainbow Dash leapt up from the stairs. “Look who grew up on us! You 18 yet, Spike?” She patted him on the shoulder and flicked him on one of his biceps, whistling.

“Hello to you too, Rainbow Dash.” He stated flatly. He’d be lying if her inquiry didn’t flatter him.

“Leave the poor thing alone, Rainbow Dash! For Celestia’s sake, can’t you go a single day without trying to pick someone up?” Rarity walked over from her seat next to Fluttershy.

“Just because Spike has grown up doesn’t mean you can push him around.” She narrowed her eyes as she rested an arm on his shoulders as well. “Especially into your bed.”

Rainbow Dash looked insulted. “I can’t believe you’d insinuate I’d try to force one of my old friends into my bed!” She looked Spike up and down again as he reached for his shirt. “I mean, a table would do just as fine. Or a car—”

Rarity gave an unamused stare before Spike interrupted the bold young woman. “If you ladies are done blatantly sexualizing our old friend, I’d like to get going.”

Twilight nodded in approval as Rainbow Dash shrugged and Rarity clasped a hand to her chest in offense. “Are you implying that I am—”

Spike looked over to her, unhooked her hand from around his waist, and held it up to her face.

“You were saying?”

Applejack snickered as she got up and headed for the door. “C’mon, we don’t wanna be late again like last week, ya cougars.”

Spike blinked as the other five women in the room simultaneously coughed. “Last week? What happened last week?”

Applejack winked at him as she walked past. She pinched Twilight on the butt, making the librarian squeak in surprise.

“Oh, you know. Stuff.”

The Ones Who Have Wronged You

The moon goddess stared down at the young boy, her gaze both intimidating and calming. Her inquiry rang throughout the emptied court.

"We do indeed know the most about thy people, young one, and it would be Our sublime pleasure to take you on as an apprentice."

She clucked her tongue as she rested Her beautiful head on an upraised fist, her curious eyes seeking something.

"However, thou hast refused Our offer before, and while We are glad that thou hast changed thy mind, We cannot help but wonder why thou enters Our halls with sorrow guiding thy steps."

Spike looked up blearily to the gorgeous Princess of the Night. "Please, Princess Luna, I need to come back to Canterlot. I love living with Twilight and being her assistant, but that's…she just can't give me what I need any more."

Luna narrowed Her eyes. "So thou would come unto Us as a pleading suppliant to receive the attention a boy such as yourself requires?" She drew up, angrily gripping her throne's handles.

"You would accept Our invitation on a whim? We who were old before you were born? Why should We listen to the pleas of a child?"

The boy stood his ground, leveling an understanding gaze at the Princess.

"Because you know what it's like to revolve around the Sun."

Silence.

Spike wanted to melt into his seat at the stares he was receiving, some more searching than he would prefer.

Applejack leaned back into her seat, placing a gentle but firm hand on his shoulder.

"You might as well spill, sugar. We smelt the sex on ya the minute ya strutted in tha house."

"I don't strut…" Spike muttered.

"Who was it?" Twilight growled angrily from across the table, grateful that she had cast a soundproofing spell around their booth after Rainbow Dash had broached the subject.

Spike barely held back a whimper at her ferocity. "I-it's no big deal, Twilight. It only happened once!" He reconsidered his statement. "Wait, no, it was four times, about over the span of twelve hours."

Crap, that's probably just digging me deeper.

Applejack whistled, Rainbow Dash licked her lips, while the others stared in bewilderment.

Except Twilight, whose rage only increased.

"So you just let some absolute stranger take advantage of you like that? I thought I could trust you to behave responsibly on your own!" She screeched.

Spike narrowed his own eyes. "They didn't take advantage of me, Twilight. In case you haven't noticed, I'm more than capable of taking care of myself."

Rainbow Dash reached into a bucket of popcorn that Pinkie Pie had pulled out of seemingly nowhere. "Tell her, brother!"

Both ignored the comment as Twilight retaliated. "You're eighteen! That's no age for you to go out on your own and pretend you're an adult! Clearly I gave you too much responsibility!"

Spike himself was getting fairly worked up. "My gosh, Twilight, you're right! Celestia forbid I do anything as challenging as run a library by myself for days on end while my roommate is out of the region!"

Oohs and ahs were muttered as the two former roommates verbally sparred. Applejack leaned in close to Rainbow Dash, whispering into her ear.

"Whaddaya figure got those two worked up so badly? Used to be thick as thieves, and now they're goin' fer each other's throats."

Dash whispered back sagely, "It's simple, really: ever since Spike was born, Twilight's always been right by his side. Naturally, she's the person he's the most comfortable with, right?"

Applejack nodded.

Dash continued, "Now that Spike's been on his own for four years, Twilight isn't his anchor anymore, and she feels like he might be using other girls and sex to replace her. Add to that that Spike's fine as hell now, and she's confused with her attraction to him, and now we've got a sexually-frustrated Twilight who's trying to force herself back into Spike's life, and it's not working so well for either of them."

Applejack stared in amazement at the shorter woman. "That's…really deep for you."

Rainbow Dash snorted, a cocky smirk on her face. "There's more to me than sports and mind-blowing sex, AJ."

The blonde rolled her eyes. "Ah'm sure."

The argument raged on. "What makes you think you can just tell me what to do anymore, huh? I didn't say anything when I found out you were banging your own friends!" Spike yelled.

Twilight's blush could easily be mistaken for anger. "Because you're my responsibility!"

A vein throbbed in his head. "You're NOT my MOM, Twilight!" He angrily spat, moving from the booth, not bothering to look back as Twilight gasped and tried to hold back tears.

"I'm going to get some air."

Luna froze on her throne, the boy's heartbreaking words striking far too close to home for her liking. "What dost thou mean?"

Spike didn't let up on his sorrowful gaze for a second. "Everything I do, I do for Twilight. I run her library, I cook her food, I try to snap her out of it when she's being stupid."

Luna made to speak, but the boy wasn't done yet.

"And…I love every second of it. But…we just can't give each other what we need anymore."

Luna raised an eyebrow. "We believe thou hast said that before. What is thy meaning?"

He shuffled his feet.

"I can't live in Twilight's shadow forever, Princess, and she needs her friends as much as I need to grow up. Lately," he choked up, "we've been suffocating each other."

He remembered his exercises, sitting with his legs crossed, taking deep breaths before exhaling them in the form of gentle green flames, feeling his anger gradually fading away.

It was times like these he was grateful for his decision to leave, both for the absence of conflict and his greater degree of self-control.

Everything comes with a sacrifice, I guess.

"Spike?" A familiar voice called to him from behind. He turned to see his old crush looking at him intently.

He snorted out a bit of smoke from his nose, unwilling to engage in another argument.

"Rarity."

She frowned at his tone, sitting down next to him on the grass regardless. "Let's just talk for a bit, dear. We have so much to talk about."

Confident due to his bitterness, he eyed Rarity up and down, unashamedly checking her out, something that didn't go unnoticed by her.

She was wearing a lovely purple leather jacket, covering up her white blouse. His eyes traveled down to her legs, covered in a black skirt and adorned with similarly colored stockings and heels.

"Spike," she clucked, "it's not very gentlemanly to stare at a lady openly like that."

He rolled his eyes. "And I'm sure it's perfectly fine for a lady to hook her arm around my waist the second my shirt is off."

She pointed her nose up into the air in a mock-snobbish pose. "I never said it was; I was just taking advantage of society's double standards."

He frowned.

"Spike, dear, please tell me what's wrong." Rarity's smile only flattened as the young man refused to speak. "I know I'm not the prettiest woman there is, but I at least used to have an effect on you. Is four years that long a time?"

Sighing, he turned to face her. "No, Rarity, you know better than that. Canterlot kind of took the edge off, but you're still the most gorgeous woman I've ever laid eyes on."

Her ego soared as she heard his earnest words.

"It's just…I can't go anywhere without someone trying to hit on me, or feel me," he shuddered at this, "or tell me what I want to hear just so they can try and bed me."

She stared flatly at him. "Since when did you get a sex change?"

He rolled his eyes at her. "I'm just too attractive, Rarity. I don't even go on dates because they always turn out superficial!"

Rarity smirked at him, unbelieving. "I'll admit Spike, you're a head-turner now, but that hardly means—"

He suddenly turned to meet her eyes, giving Rarity the Look. She stopped talking immediately as he climbed over her, running a hand up her thigh as his hot breath caressed her pale neck.

"I'm going to make love to you, on this very hill, right now, and I'll make sure Celestia hears your moans." He growled into her ear.

Her legs immediately locked around his waist, her hands reaching under his shirt to caress his muscles.

"Oh Celestia, yes, please!" Her head darted up, seeking a kiss, only for Spike to roll away, his head already resting in his hands in a relaxed position.

"See what I mean?" He muttered absently, rolling a wad of something in his hand.

Rarity sputtered, not sure whether to be upset, aroused, or furious at being played so easily. "That-that's not fair at all! You used your sex appeal on me!"

"Not so fun to be on the receiving end, is it?" He looked over, giving Rarity a wink.

Her blush only increased as her arousal refused to die down.

"Well, yes, but I never took it to that degree!" She stamped her foot in anger.

Spike looked back at her. "Duh. That's me getting back at you for years of being teased." He grabbed her hand, kissing it gently. "Don't worry, I'll indulge you next time."

She nearly choked on her own spit.

"What in Celestia's name makes you even think there's going to be a next time?" She shrieked.

He sucked on her finger teasingly, smiling when a small moan escaped her.

"There's going to be a next time."

Okay! I'm fine with that! Rarity pouted as she reluctantly removed her finger from Spike's mouth. "What happened to you not wanting girls who had ulterior motives?"

Spike smirked, standing as he helped up the designer. "I'm not the boy I was, Rarity. I'm not about to hop into bed with you."

She couldn't keep the disappointment from showing on her face.

He leaned in close, grabbing her gently by the arm and gave her a chaste kiss on the cheek, like she had done to him so many times before.

Man, I've been waiting since I was a kid to do that.

"Doesn't mean I can't mess with you, though."

Rarity only noticed belatedly that he had taken her panties.

Luna strode down from her throne, grabbing the crying boy and giving him a tight hug.

"It will be all right, young one, but you must tell Us what in particular is upsetting you." She pulled back momentarily, searching his face.

"What terrible truth was shown to you? What wrong was done to you to set you on this path?"

He simply cried into her chest.

Rainbow Dash intercepted Spike as he and Rarity reentered the restaurant, muttering something about needing to "have a little chat."

She sat him down at the bar, ordering a beer for herself.

Spike waited for her to start the conversation. However, she seemed content to simply sit and drink her alcohol in silence.

"What did you want to talk about, Dash?" He asked cautiously, unaware of her current mood.

She looked over at him, passing her eyes over him for a slight second before moving back to the booth where their friends were.

"No talking, just scoping out the meat."

He blinked. "The say-what now?"

She rolled her eyes. "I'm going to be brutally honest with you, Spike. You're hot and we all more or less are weighing the chances of getting to bed you. I bet Applejack that I'd lay you by this time next week, actually. So naturally, I need to know what you like."

Spike was unsurprised by her words. "You wasted your money, then. I'm not some common guy you can just bang by teasing me."

Dash raised her beer in protest. "Wrong on both accounts. I bet AJ eight orgasms that I'd do it, no money involved."

Spike's stare was incredulous, now picturing the two very shapely women going at it.

"Second, you're only half-right. You may not be the common guy, but you're definitely not all that observant."

"How do you figure?" He leaned on his arm next to the counter, suddenly feeling slightly tired.

She smirked, putting her bare foot on the counter. "Because, I just gave you a footjob under the counter not even fifteen seconds ago, and I was so stealthy, you didn't even notice."

Spike gaped as he looked down at his zipper, Dash's expert foot already moving it back into its proper place, patting his now-limp manhood mockingly.

Rainbow Dash shrugged. "Thing is, I still need to get you in bed for it to count, so clear your schedule." She put her finished beer on the counter, swiveling around in her seat as she turned to face the booth.

"Okay…" Spike muttered, still in awe.

Dash hooked an arm around his waist, pulling him closer to her. He couldn't help but feel smaller next to her, despite having a few inches on the athlete.

"Now then, back to business. Let's take a look at Fluttershy."

Spike took in the pink-haired beauty. "What about her?"

Rainbow Dash again rolled her eyes, slapping him playfully on the cheek. "We scope her out, that's what. 38D, naturally tall, long legs and gorgeous eyes. You like?"

Spike shrugged, feeling awkward about describing his attraction to the older woman. "Well yeah, she's beautiful and everything. But it's Fluttershy. I'd feel like I'd be sodomizing the Easter Bunny."

Dash flicked him on the nose. "Not what I asked you, jackass."

Spike cringed. She's like a rowdier, constantly horny version of Lyra, now that I think about it.

"Um…she's got a nice figure and perfect skin, but her shyness kind of takes away from her sex appeal. Tall chicks are attractive, I guess."

He took in her outfit; Fluttershy's wardrobe was naturally conservative, her beige sweater hugging her torso flatteringly, but not enough to arouse any kind of interest. He couldn't complain when he saw that it was all she was wearing, stopping just above her knees.

Rarity's influence, no doubt.

Rainbow Dash leaned in close, whispering in her ear. "Listen, 'Shy isn't the social type, but she's still a woman. She may blush or faint when she gets a compliment, but she's not exactly easy to approach either. It's not good for just the five of us to be the only ones to tell her she's pretty." She licked his ear playfully, enjoying how he jumped. "Plus she really needs to get laid, by a guy."

Spike still felt awkward at the idea. "I'll…think about it.

She clapped him on the back. "Okay, Pinkie Pie."

Now this I don't mind commenting on. "She's probably got my ideal figure, along with most guys." He smiled genuinely, unable to be upset when thinking about the upbeat girl. She was wearing a pink tank-top and black yoga pants, while her hair hung down in messy curls.

Dash blinked in surprise. "Really now? You prefer your girls with curves?" Her mind drifted to her practically flat body, considering her lack of femininity.

Spike shrugged. "Well I don't pick and choose, but you can't really look at her and not want to…you know."

Dash had to agree with him. "I guess so, yeah. What would you do with her?"

He paused. "It's Pinkie Pie. It'd be a crime against nature to not worship her ass."

Rainbow Dash nodded patiently. "Me?"

Spike turned to face her, drinking in her appearance. Dash wore a light blue hoodie, along with capris and tennis shoes. He had to fight back an erection just at the sight of her.

"You've got muscles, no doubt. Not as big as Applejack's, but they make you sleek and attractive. Your personality is another thing entirely." He motioned upward with his hands. "Abs." He commanded.

Dash rolled her eyes as she lifted up her hoodie, showing off her firm stomach, a line of sweat rolling down to her navel.

He stifled a groan, frowning as Dash grinned cockily at his obvious attraction to her.

"So? What do you think?"

His gaze lidded, he looked to Dash again, his eyes raking over her figure and lingering on her legs. "Tomorrow."

Rainbow Dash felt a naughty thrill crawling down to her stomach, despite the frown on her face. "I work tomorrow, tiger."

He was the one rolling his eyes now. "Fine then, I'll just have to take care of you the moment you leave the building."

A stray thought crossed his mind. I'd say I can't help it, but hey, everybody wants Fanc-Rainbow Dash.

A wicked grin spread across her face. "Not that I don't appreciate having a target on my ass, but why not tonight?"

Spike's eyes fell on the red-eyed girl sitting in the booth, her words blocked from reaching him by her soundproofing spell.

"I'm busy."

The Princess held him in her lap, hoping to stop his tears, but also eager at her first chance in centuries to properly show affection; most young children still refused to stand even a few feet next to her out of irrational fear.

"You should resent them," she remarked, dropping her familiar patterns of speech in order to sound more familiar. "Forgetting your birthday, taking you for granted, neglecting to spend time with you."

He nodded slowly. "I know I should." Spike's voice cracked, along with Luna's heart.

"But I can't help but love them."

"And-and he's grown-up now, and he's been learning for four years straight from Princess Luna, so what could I even hope to teach him now? She's given him the education I never could, and he won't need me, and he'll let his hotness go to his head, and-and he'll become a manwhore, and then he'll become destitute from using all the money he gets on drugs, and he'll catch Super-AIDS, and I'll die alone, and—"

Applejack grew tired of her rambling, instead opting to grab her Pocket Apple and stuff it in Twilight's mouth.

Funny, I usually have ta end up using them on Pinkie Pie.

Applejack cleared her throat. "Okay, sugar, let me just start by saying that Ah'm not even going to begin to go into what is wrong with what you just said. Spike's always been a responsible young man, so even if he's had sex with one person multiple times in one night, don't ya think ya should be more trustin' of 'em?"

Twilight sniffed. "Well, yeah, but he's so young, Applejack! Do you really think he's ready to get involved with girls like that?"

Pinkie Pie spoke up from her side of the table, for once fairly serious. "Twilight, Spike's been around girls his entire life. All he knows is girls. It wouldn't be as much of a problem if he wasn't as handsome or chivalrous as he is, but you raised him too well."

Twilight sniffed blearily as she looked at the cotton-candy haired woman.

"So…it's my fault?"

Pinkie Pie was silent for a moment. "Yeah!"

Applejack smacked her on the back of the head. "What she's tryin' ta say is that of course Spike's gonna be gettin' involved with other girls if they're all he's ever around. Takin' into consideration that he's pretty much been in hibernation for four years like ya said, I'm surprised he doesn't want to sleep with every pretty face he sees."

Twilight opened her mouth to reply, only to freeze when she felt a strong hand grip her arm.

"Come."

The two of them were enveloped in a green flame, a cloud of smoke all that remained.

It whisked out a nearby window, flying in the direction of the library.

Twilight gasped, flailing her arms around at the unexpected teleportation. She fell immediately into a nearby chair, still breathing heavily.

"What was that?" She was fairly sure she had just been set on fire, but couldn't smell a hint of smoke or cinders.

Spike stepped forward, grinning only a little smugly at the surprise his talents gave her.

"Ignus gradus, or 'fire step.' Princess Luna prefers to name her spells in Latin, and I copied this one from her."

Twilight blinked, remembering that she was angry with him, and crossed her arms in a huff.

Spike sighed, knowing that she was going to be difficult. "Look, Twilight, we need to talk."

She whipped her head around at him. "Why? I can't tell you what to do anymore. It's not like I'm your mom or anything."

He cringed, but pressed on regardless. "No, you're not."

She choked on her next words. "We're not even family, are we?"

Spike leaned back in surprise. "What are you talking about? Of course we are, we've been together since I was born!"

She shook her head feverishly. "No, Spike, we're not! Family doesn't look at each other like they're pieces of meat!"

Twilight inhaled deeply before speaking next. "When I saw you again, I…I felt ashamed. The first time I lay my eyes on you in four years, and I'm drooling on the inside!"

She cradled her face with her hands, her voice cracking in self-loathing.

"How can I even justify that?"

Spike looked down at his once-guardian, for once not knowing what to say that could comfort her.

There is one thing, he thought to himself, loathing the contrition he felt.

He swallowed the pain he suffered from her negligence as a child, shutting it away for another day. Regardless of what she did to him unknowingly, he knew that he could never hurt his first friend the way she hurt him.

"Twilight, it's alright." He picked her up bridal style, and carried her up to the loft, despite her struggles. "We haven't seen each other for years. You haven't seen me grow up."

He brushed his lips against her forehead in a kiss. "You were right when you said we're not family, in part. Naturally, we would be attracted to each other."

He paused momentarily to open the door, noting the minor changes.

She got rid of my bed.

He trudged up the steps regardless, placing Twilight down on her mattress, taking her shoes off and rubbing her feet.

Her sobs stopped, as she looked down at Spike cautiously.

I don't deserve you, do I?

His gaze met hers.

You don't, but that doesn't change anything.

Twilight sniffed. "We're not family, but we're still friends?"

Spike smiled back up at her, his familiar, comforting grin reassuring her just as it did years ago.

"Always."

Twilight rested on her back, her clothes all absent except for her panties and a t-shirt. Despite Spike's words of encouragement from before, she couldn't rest, not while knowing that there was still a very attractive young man resting on the floor not two feet from her.

"Spike, please, the bed is big enough for the two of us to share. You don't have to sleep on the floor."

He muttered from his place on the ground. "Yes huh, otherwise you'd have your way with me."

"No I wouldn't!" She sounded indignant at his assertion of lack of self-control on her part.

Spike sat down on the bed next to her, when Twilight realized that he was only wearing his boxers and eyeglasses.

"Still confident in your abilities?" He reached over Twilight, very obviously rubbing his chest against hers, to turn on her lamp.

"Of course!" Must. Resist. Urge. To. Jump! She only went on lying for the sake of her pride.

Twilight noticed the book in his hands, her arousal momentarily forgotten. "What's that you're reading?"

He looked down at the cover. "Oh, this? Princess Luna wanted me to read something for pleasure since I was on break, so I just chose The Claustrophile."

Her eyes bulged, her arousal coming back full force. "You're reading Sturgeon? For pleasure?" She wrinkled her nose in surprise. "Used to be that I could hardly get you to pick up a book at all."

Spike shrugged. "It's a little challenging at first, yeah, but enjoyable once you get used to it."

Twilight's jaw dropped, the brilliant young woman for once unable to think of a reply.

"I usually skim a few pages while playing Sudoku when I wake up in the morning."

To be honest, it really wasn't Twilight's fault, what with how quickly she pounced on top of Spike, throwing caution to the wind.

"I'll apologize later, I really will, but if you don't take me right now, I will honestly lose it." Twilight ripped off her shirt, baring her breasts to a wide-eyed Spike, before laying down to press them to his own chest.

"I know that I'm not being fair to you right now, and I'm so, so sorry. But I'm begging you, Spike, please let me get this out of my system."

He smirked. "By getting into your system?"

She rolled her eyes at his pun. "Oh ha ha, you incredibly witty bastard."

Spike smiled as he rolled from under her, switching their positions. "Alright then, I'll indulge you, Twilight."

He removed his boxers, dropping them into a nearby laundry hamper. He grabbed Twilight by the head gently, moving her to his now stiff erection.

"But you're going to have to work for it."

Twilight nodded slowly, taking his manhood into her mouth.

"I've never tried this with a guy before," she mumbled.

HNNNNG

Spike started as Twilight spoke directly onto his erection, shocked at the vibrations.

Twilight smirked as she saw his reaction. "That good, huh?"

She flicked her tongue over the tip of his cock, grinning evilly as she saw his tortured face.

"Twiliiiight…" Spike moaned.

The hairs on the back of her neck rose, deciding to begin her stimulation in earnest, pumping her hand up and down his length eagerly.

Spike groaned, pulling Twilight on top of him as he kissed her roughly. Twilight's excitement grew as she rapidly jerked him off with both hands, rubbing her breasts into his slightly sweaty chest.

"Say my name again," she commanded.

He complied, mumbling her name out in pressured groans.

If that's not rewarding, I don't know what is, Twilight thought to herself.

Without warning, Spike came into her hands, strings of semen shooting up onto Twilight's bare breasts.

Twilight giggled seductively as she used her magic to remove it, casting a spell to disintegrate the bodily fluids. "Too much for you, big guy?"

Spike growled, his voice huskier than before. "Shut up and fuck me."

Twilight whipped off her panties, her womanhood slick with her excitement. "Will do, captain."

She mounted him, placing her hands on either side of his head for support, and lowered herself.

She bit her lip in as she eased onto him. Spike groaned, his eyes shut as his arms wrapped around her head.

Twilight made sure to go slow at first, noting how she was only an inch or so shorter than him. She gasped as she fully enveloped his entire member, a moan coming out from her partner.

I could definitely get used to this. She brushed a hand through his hair, clenching it as she moved back and forth, her pleasure mounting with every moan that the man underneath her gave.

She wasn't done torturing him yet, though.

Despite her nearing orgasm, Twilight dismounted the young man, yawning as she got up. "And here I was thinking you're a man, but you're letting me sit there and work you like a schoolboy." She smirked inwardly as she feigned disappointment, taking a sick pleasure in how Spike's look of shock completely replaced his look of bliss.

Twilight turned to walk away, sighing. "Maybe my fingers will give me what I need, because I'm sure not getting it here."

And 3…2…1…

Twilight gasped in mock-surprise as Spike whipped her around and pushed her face-down on the mattress as he growled in anger.

"Like hell you are!"

Twilight smiled into the mattress. Hook, line, and sink-MY ANUS!

Spike plunged savagely into Twilight's ass, pumping hard and fast as his partner moaned pitifully into the bed.

Her legs flailed out behind her, her nails clenching the bedsheets.

"Fuuu-uu-uuu-ck!" She moaned with every thrust that she received, her vulgar language only encouraging Spike to move with even more vigor.

He cupped her breasts, now directly over her, loving how she writhed beneath him.

She came into the bed sheets, screaming into the mattress, and with a few more frantic thrusts, so did he. His semen spilled into her, burning in a way that Twilight found incredibly arousing.

Spike started to pull out, before Twilight stopped him with a gentle brush of her hand.

"Please…can we just stay like this for a while?" Her face was flushed, her bottom sticky and her hair ruffled in a way that made her much more attractive than usual.

But she was smiling.

Spike's anger died back down, obliging the girl beneath him.

I could never stay mad at you, could I?

He laid down next to Twilight, his member still buried inside of her.

No matter how much you screwed me over.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, as they both drifted to sleep.

Silence.

The Ones Who Have Found You Convenient

Luna’s guiding hand pulled the struggling young boy from the floor of his mind, the scorch marks of his own flame marring his body.

“You must try again, young one. You are showing promise, but you still have a long way to go.”

Spike wanted to roar in frustration, but he remembered that the Princess, while gorgeous and understanding, had little tolerance for lack of self-control.

“I understand, Princess—” He started, before he was cut off.

“It’s Luna when we’re alone, dear.” Her smile comforted him, as it always did.

He smiled back appreciatively, thinking nothing of how her hand lingered on his waist for a fair bit longer than usual.

“Luna, if you don’t mind me asking, how long have I been asleep? It feels like it’s been a couple hours,” the young boy queried.

“Oh,” she gestured in an uncaring manner, “only about two years. Why do you worry?”

Spike’s eyes widened as her statement sunk in. “Two…years?!” He flailed his arms wildly. “How could I have been gone for that long? I need to talk to my friends!”

Luna frowned, clutching the boy to her hip protectively. “You’re in hibernation, dearest. You cannot awaken until your body has grown to the appropriate size.”

Her frown deepened as she recalled that the passage of time was much more impactful for those who lacked the gift of eternal youth. “I cannot say when you may finish your first cycle, either. It may be nearing its end as we speak, or it may even take another ten years. None can say.”

Spike clutched at his hair, worry dotting his face as he started to hyperventilate.

“I can’t be in here for that long! I have to see Twilight, a-and Rarity! I need to see my friends!”

Luna’s mood soured at the mention of the woman who held the young boy’s heart even in the midst of his dreams, but she perked back up as she recalled something that could help him out of his funk.

“If it’s any consolation to you, my young one, you may know that Twilight asks after you often.”

Spike’s shaking slowed, his green eyes seeking out the Princess. “R-really? How often does she come to visit?”

The moon goddess’s face scrunched up, trying to remember the last time the lavender-haired girl came to Canterlot castle.

“Well, she hasn’t come to visit you per say, not since you entered hibernation, but by the tone of her letters, she cares a great deal about you.”

Spike stirred from sleep with another body in his grasp, noticeably the second time in a row. He looked down to find Twilight pressed into him, his own arms wrapped around her waist. His now-limp member had retreated from her rear, and even now she murmured his name lovingly as she ground softly against his body.

Yep, I’m bored.

He got up from the bed carefully, collected his robe from one of his bags, and went downstairs to prepare for the day.

The green-haired teenager trudged down the stairs lazily, his robe tied hastily around his hips as he prepared a cup of tea for himself. He heard a ding at the front door, shuffling over with half-lidded eyes.

He opened the door, cringing at the sunlight that immediately assaulted his eyes.

By Celestia’s nipples, that’s bright.

He glanced up at the mail woman, a blonde-haired, wall-eyed beauty with a joyful expression on her face.

“Since when does Ms. Sparkle have a boyfriend? You’re so cute!” She squealed, one eye staring Spike clear in the face while another journeyed downward.

“It’s Spike, Derpy.” He rubbed his eye as he continued to squint into the daylight. “And you don’t bring mail to the door, you bring it to the mailbox.”

Derpy smiled in spite of his comment. “Oh, I know! It’s just that sometimes Ms. Sparkle gets lonely all cooped up in her house, so I like to say hello!”

Spike shrugged lethargically as Derpy handed him the mail. “That’s sweet, or something.”

He noticed the mail woman still standing in his doorway, smiling blankly at him.

“So…can I help you?” He tried, feeling incredibly awkward standing in the doorway with an older woman blatantly staring at him in his fairly-revealing robe.

“Yep!” she chirped, closing the distance between them as she darted forward and grabbed Spike by the legs, shoving her head inside his robes as her lips sought out his member.

He looked down in confusion as he stared at the odd woman giving him head.

Spike took a sip of his tea. “…what?”

Derpy babbled from inside his robe, her words muffled as they usually are when you have a dick in your mouth.

Hnnnnnnnnnnnng.

“I can’t hear you, Derpy. You kind of have my dick in your mouth.”

She stopped her motions, her head leaving the folds of his robes. “What I was saying was, you are helping me because you look really cute in your robe and I haven’t had a guy in me in forever!”

Spike took another draught of hot chocolate. “Define ‘forever.’”

She counted on her fingers, mouthing the words. “About fifteen years, I’d say.”

Spike’s eyes widened a fraction. “Wow, that’s like…a Dinky.”

She cocked her head in confusion. “Pardon?”

Spike motioned uselessly with his free hand. “That means you haven’t had sex since you had your daughter, right?”

She nodded. “Sorry if I came on a little strong, but I really, really need this.” She pouted cutely. “Pleeeeeeease?”

Spike sighed.

And once more, I am called to give to the needy.

Twilight ambled down the stairs nude, her hair adorably frazzled.

Well, it’s not like it’s anything he hasn’t seen before.

She stretched her arms, her bottom more than a little sore from last night’s activities, only to freeze when she heard moaning coming from the kitchen.

Twilight crept down the stairs, peering inside from the open window when she saw the lady who usually delivered her mail, shorts wrapped around her knees as Spike slammed into her with a steady hand on her back.

“Spike, what are you—” she started to ask.

“Twilight, I don’t even know.”

Luna cradled Spike as he wept.

“So, what was really bothering you last night?”

Spike looked up from his morning paper of Sudoku, peering over the breakfast he had prepared after Derpy left.

He hesitated for a moment. “Do you really want to know?”

Twilight rolled her eyes as she clutched her coffee in her small hands. “I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t, Spike.”

He put the morning paper down, turning fully to face her. “Alright. What do you know about my people?”

Twilight blinked at the sudden shift in conversation. “Your people? Not much, as you know.”

He sighed. “Let me be more specific; what do you know about our hibernation?”

Twilight ah’ed as she realized where the conversation was going. “Well, I know that it happens spontaneously, starting at adolescence.”

Spike nodded. “Right, although it usually happens after the thirteenth birthday, due to the common surge in hormones and over-consumption of food that comes with becoming a teenager.”

He shifted again to face her. “Do you also remember the day that I went off to Canterlot to be tutored by Princess Luna?”

Twilight nodded again, her face somewhat bitter at the memory. “Yeah, me and the girls were gone the entire day for a Wonderbolts derby,” Spike grimaced at this, “and when we got back, Pinkie Pie threw us a party.”

She frowned as she recalled more. “But when I got home, you had made up your mind to accept Princess Luna’s offer and become her student. It seemed like a pretty brash decision.”

It was. Spike sighed, looking Twilight in the eyes. “Twilight, that was my thirteenth birthday.”

Twilight’s eyes bugged out of her skull as she realized just how badly she screwed up.

“Oh my gosh, Spike, I’m so sorry that I forgot about that, I—”

“It’s fine,” he said, cutting her off with a wave of his hand. He snorted, a pained smile on his face. “I just had a hard time figuring out how Pinkie Pie of all people forgot too.”

Pinkie Pie skipped happily into Sugarcube Corner, not at all tired from her recent trip to Cloudsdale for the Wonderbolts derby.

She ‘ooh’ and ‘ahh’ed at the spectacular display of balloons and streamers, cake and confections alike as she beheld a party waiting to happen, all beneath her nose!

Pinkie bounced into the kitchen, startling Mrs. Cake as she was teaching Pound Cake how to bake.

“Oooh, Mrs. Cake, who set-up that wonderful party out there?” she chirped.

Mrs. Cake stared blankly at Pinkie, before stating, “You did, dear. You said it was for one of your friends, but then that rainbow-haired girl came by and told you that your friends were all heading to a derby of some sort. Don’t you remember?”

Pinkie Pie shook her head rapidly. “Nope!” She giggled as she bounced back out the door.

“That’s no reason to let a perfectly good party go to waste, though!”

Twilight shrugged her shoulders as easily she did Spike’s question. “I don’t know, Spike, she’s usually the one who remembers every birthday, for every person.”

Makes being forgotten that much worse, heh.

Twilight reached a hand across the table, clenching Spike’s in hers. “That’s pretty bad, I admit, but that’s no reason to leave to go to Canterlot, is it?”

Spike pulled his hand back, to her dismay. “That’s not the problem, Twilight.”

She frowned. “Then please, tell me, what was so bad that you had to move away?”

He growled. “I fell asleep.”

She rolled her eyes. “I know, you said that already. Four years is a long time, but it’s hardly a lifetime, Spike.”

Spike’s eyes glowed dangerously as he snorted smoke. “I. Fell. Asleep.”

She flinched at his tone as he got up from the table. “In case you didn’t know, hibernation can last from anywhere from a month to a decade, depending on the person. Those four years I spent away? Felt like hours.”

Twilight cringed back into her seat as he moved closer to her.

“I could have been gone for far longer than I was. What if I woke up and you had kids? Or Rarity? What if something terrible happened and I wasn’t there to protect you?”

She started to stammer, “B-but I can protect mys—”

“That’s not the point!” He roared, his eyes starting to glisten.

“Ever since we came here,” he choked, “we’ve been drifting apart, and I’ve been trying to stop it, I really have!” He tried to gather himself, but she could tell by the look on his face that he was crumbling. “And since I came back to Ponyville, and we did what we did last night, I thought maybe I could fix it!”

He was sobbing pathetically now, and it was all Twilight could do to not scoop him up in her arms and reassure him. But still, he continued.

“But you girls? You just have sex on the mind when you look at me, and I immediately thought that that was at least a step-up from being ignored. But here I am, the morning after I share myself with you, and you tell me you can’t even remember how you weren’t there for me?”

Twilight was on the edge of tears herself, shaking violently as she stretched a hand out to grasp his. “Spike, I—”

Once again, he snatched his hand away. “Don’t touch me,” he snarled.

She grabbed him in a hug anyway.

Luna tried not to enjoy the closeness that the young boy’s embrace brought, but rarely had she had contact with another human being, and sisterly affection accounted for little.

The fact that she had ingrained in him a great deal of knowledge, historical, magical, and—she nearly purred in delight—physical, in the matter of hours granted her reason to hold the young man.

It also helped that no one was around to watch.

“There, there, young one,” she cooed, feeling slightly guilty as she placed the squirming young man in her open lap, “all will be better.”

After all, a woman needs her affection, ill-gotten or otherwise.

Another day, another detention.

Apple Bloom stretched, still sore from her little scrap with Diamond Tiara earlier in the day.

But by Celestia’s beard, it was worth it.

While she lacked any real bruises, as did her combatant, Cheerilee had nevertheless given the both of them detention together, so that they may “sweep it under the rug,” or something like that. To be honest, she wasn’t really paying that much attention anyway.

Not when it was all an act.

With Applejack at the stalls for the rest of the afternoon, and Granny Smith in Appleloosa to visit family, that left Big Macintosh all alone down at the farm.

“Way Ah figure, you’re due for a favor or two,” Apple Bloom winked at Cheerilee as she told the teacher her plan earlier that day.

When she knew the teacher had been on board, she stuffed her house key into a hollow apple during lunch, and slipped it to her right before detention, as an ‘apology’ for causing so much trouble.

Apple Bloom had to laugh inwardly as Cheerilee scuttled out the door, got into her car, and drove in the direction of Sweet Apple Acres.

Ha! I wonder if Ah could major in corruption! She kicked her feet up on her desk, a crooked smile making its way onto her face.

“Where did Miss Cheerilee go? Who’s going to watch us?” Diamond Tiara looked around, confusion in her voice.

She noticed the blinds were closed.

“No one. No one at all.”

The hairs on the back of Diamond Tiara’s neck stood up as she looked over to see Apple Bloom staring at her, eyes lidded and thin lips smirking.

Diamond Tiara’s eyes widened as she leaned back, suddenly wary. “Y-you did this, didn’t you? You did something to make Miss Cheerilee leave so you could beat me up!”

Apple Bloom shook her head, that stupid grin still on her face.

A blush crossed her face, as the prissy young woman scrambled from her desk and headed for the door. “Fine, but I’m not about to stay in the same room as you, Apple Bumpkin!”

A strong but small hand on her shoulder stopped her in her tracks, pulling her backwards until Diamond Tiara was leaning down next to Apple Bloom's face.

“See, here’s the thing, DT.”

“Don’t call me that.” She snarled.

“We’ve been fightin’ since we was little girls, and we’re sensible young ladies now.” Apple Bloom’s powerful amber eyes gleamed in the afternoon sun, refusing to let Diamond Tiara look anywhere else.

“Thing is, I’m a mite tired of it, y’see?” Apple Bloom got up from her seat, hand still planted firmly on Diamond Tiara’s shoulder, and pushed the weaker girl onto Cheerilee’s empty desk.

“W-what are you—” the surprised girl started to say.

“And I’m willin’ to try some,” Apple Bloom licked her lips in anticipation as her voice dropped an octave, “diplomacy.”

The white and purple-haired girl’s eyes widened impossibly as the young farmer drew her into a deep kiss, pressing down on her and grasping at the hem of her skirt.

Diamond Tiara’s face was flushed as Apple Bloom pulled away to gather her breath, unable to speak out of pure shock.

“Way Ah see it,” Apple Bloom panted, “life’s too short ta waste on petty squabbles, y’see?”

“Yes,” she immediately agreed.

“And we’re two pretty young things perfectly capable of gettin’ along, right?”

“Perfectly capable, yeah.” Her chest was heaving as Apple Bloom brushed the red locks out of her face. By Celestia’s nipples, that’s sexy.

“So what kinda depraved young women would we be if we didn’t give peace a chance?”

Diamond Tiara shook her head furiously, her hair spreading across the desk in a way that only made Apple Bloom want her more.

“Monsters, absolute monsters, Apple Bloom.” She yelped as she felt the hand on her shoulder yank down the corner of her dress.

“Ah’m glad you see it my way,” she drawled, before moving up to nibble on the other girl’s neck.

Diamond Tiara’s legs immediately clenched around Apple Bloom’s waist, pulling her in closer as she brushed her fingers through the farmer’s thick red hair, yanking off her hairband.

Apple Bloom started. “Hey, what did Ah just get through sayin’?”

Diamond Tiara giggled. “Sorry AB,” the redhead’s eyes narrowed at her hypocrisy, “but if we’re about to do this, then you’re too pretty to wear your hair up.”

Apple Bloom blinked, before blushing deeply. “All ya had to do was say so,” she muttered.

Diamond Tiara smirked from underneath her as she stared up at the stronger girl. “I always thought you were naturally pretty, you know.” She winced. “It made me kind of jealous, actually, how I had to work for it.”

Apple Bloom purred as she slipped off the other corner of her new friend’s dress. “That’s mighty nice of you, hun.” She planted another hard kiss on her lips. “But you never had to work for it.”

Their heartbeats thudded together as Apple Bloom’s hand traced down Diamond Tiara’s thigh, breaths withheld and moans prepared as her digits traced the outline of her panties, before traveling underneath to caress—

“Well hey guys, what’s going on in h—By Celestia’s nipples!”

The two girls looked over in a panic to the stranger in the doorway.

“Spike?!” Apple Bloom screeched in surprise.

“Apple Bloom?!” He screeched back.

“…Diamond Tiara?!” The neglected girl on the desk exclaimed.

“What are you doing here? I was supposed to have the schoolhouse to myself for the afternoon!” Apple Bloom looked immensely embarrassed, almost literally being caught with her pants down.

Spike coughed into his hand, trying not to look too obviously at the girl with her skirt raised and legs dangling in the air.

“W-well, I came by to talk to Cheerilee about my longstanding childhood issues, but I see she’s not here at the moment.”

“Gee, you think?” Diamond Tiara sneered from the desk.

Apple Bloom flicked her between her legs. “Be nice,” she ordered.

“So, uh,” Spike began as he stepped closer into the room, “what exactly were you guys up to? I had the impression that you two hated each other’s guts.”

An idea sprung into Apple Bloom’s mind. Ah bet I could kill two birds with one stone right now.

“You know how girls go behind each other’s backs all the time and spread rumors ‘bout each other?” Diamond Tiara turned to face her, hurt etched across her face.

“Yeah…?” Spike replied cautiously.

Apple Bloom grabbed him by the collar, growling as she brought him close to her face.

“That has absolutely nuthin’ ta do with this.”

Spike wanted to slap himself in the face at being duped so easily. “What do you want?”

She smiled at his compliance. “Easy, just come at me from behind while Ah have my way with DT. Sound good?”

Spike frowned. “I dunno, Apple Bloom. I’ve had sex like, eight times in the past few days, and I’m kind of sore right now.”

Apple Bloom snapped her fingers in despair. “Well, shoot! I guess I’ll just haveta get Big Macintosh drunk and fuck ya til you’re blind!”

Spike had begun eating her out before her belt hit the floor.

Luna had no choice; the boy grew stronger and wiser by the hour, and she only had a matter of time before he would become difficult to handle. She grabbed him with her magic and tossed him backwards.

“Hey Luna, what are we gonna do on the bed?”

Rainbow Dash looked at her wristwatch, tapping her foot impatiently.

I got off work fifteen minutes ago, where the heck is he?

She decided to head into town in hopes of finding her lost conquest.

Rainbow Dash strutted through the market, her hands in her pockets and a scowl on her face.

“What’s got your britches in a twist, sugarcube?” called a familiar southern drawl.

Dash repressed the instinctive urge to punch Applejack in the throat at the sound of her voice, as was her usual inclination. She settled for a sigh instead.

“Hey Applejack, I’m just looking for my 5 o’clock lay. You?” She turned to face her friend.

Applejack smiled as she piled the last of her supplies onto her cart. “Just packin’ up here so Ah can go pick up Apple Bloom from detention.” She paused for a moment. “Wait, what?”

Rainbow Dash smirked at her friend’s confusion. “As soon as I find Spikey Wikey, you’re gonna owe me big time. Eight big times, actually.”

Applejack blinked as she processed Rainbow’s statement.

Then sucker-punched her in the face.

“Not if Ah get to ‘em first!” she shouted as she ran in the direction of the schoolhouse.

Dash rubbed her face, growling at the surprise attack. “Shows what you know, Applehick! The library's in the opposite direction!”

Applejack yelled, not slowing down, “It’s a good thing Ah saw him headin’ up to the schoolhouse, then!”

Dash’s eyes widened. “Clever dick!”

Luna pressed down on the bed, her royal dress discarded along with most of her royal attire.

“You may not be able to see your body at the moment, young Spike, but the truth of the matter is that you have matured very, very well. So well, in fact, that I’m afraid that you will quite literally have to beat the young ladies away.”

Spike used every scrap of mental strength he had to suppress the arousal he felt at the goddess advancing on him. “W-what’s the point of this exercise?”

Luna traced her finger along Spike’s chest, cupping his cheek with her other hand.

“It is simple; resist me, and you will undoubtedly be able to resist any woman who wishes to manipulate you for her own selfish ends.”

She inwardly begged for him to fail.

Spike panted as he leaned into Apple Bloom, her firm bottom almost suctioned to his crotch. He pulled on Diamond Tiara’s legs for support as he drew back and slammed into the farmer again. Doing so, he caused the white-haired girl’s hips to shift even closer against Apple Bloom’s mouth.

Apple Bloom moaned into Diamond Tiara’s thighs, looking back momentarily to gaze upon the gorgeous young man who continued to fill her up.

“How ya likin’ it back there, Spike?” she moaned as she rocked back and forth from the motions, only to have her head shoved back down by an impatient Diamond Tiara.

Spike gasped as her tight, hot entrance continued to clamp down around him.

“Your body is really, really firm, Apple Bloom. I could do this all day…!”

It’s amazing how this doesn’t get old, huh? He grinned as another quip came to mind. “In fact, it’s almost as tight as your sisters’.”

He moaned heavily as Apple Bloom squirmed beneath him indignantly; Diamond Tiara gasped as well when she felt the vibrations of the red-haired beauty shouting angrily into her womanhood.

“Quick, insult her more!” urged the girl with her legs wrapped around Apple Bloom’s head.

“Apples are dumb!” Spike yelled as he was forced to grip Apple Bloom’s hips even harder, noting how she tried in vain to dislodge him from her hindquarters so she could kick him in his gut.

Diamond Tiara laughed hysterically, nearly choking on her own spit as she reached an orgasm.

“A-Apple Bloom, I’m arriving!” She clenched her lover’s head between her legs, small, intense tremors wracking her body. She felt the intense heat welling up within her stomach, before it rocketed down, dribbling across Apple Bloom’s face.

The spoiled young girl chuckled deeply as she released Apple Bloom from her vice grip, drawing her legs up onto the table and spreading them. “By Celestia’s nipples, that was heavenly.”

She looked up to Spike, licking her lips as she saw his impressive length. “Hurry up, Spike, was it?” She moved a finger down to casually pleasure herself. “I want to try you.”

Channel Celestia, Spike reminded himself. “Your time is coming, trust me.”

Her eyes lidded as a lazy grin crossed her face. “You’re a trooper, I’ll give you that.”

Apple Bloom ground into Spike’s hips, moaning as she neared her orgasm. “Harder!” she begged, “I’m almost there!”

Spike complied, grabbing her ample breasts and withdrawing his full length, preparing to begin his assault on her ass once again.

“Well howdy y’all, what’s goin’ on in—SWEET SASSY MOLASSY, WHAT’RE Y’ALL DOIN?!”

All three stumbled to their feet immediately at the sound of the enraged farmer’s voice.

Applejack marched over and grabbed Spike savagely by the hair. “You’re back in town for one day, and Ah find you in here havin’ your way with my sister?” Her grip tightened, her knuckles turned white, and a murderous look was in her eyes.

Spike shook in terror. “To be absolutely fair, AJ,” he pointed a finger at the still-nude Apple Bloom, who struggled to don her jean shorts and yellow camisole, “it’s completely her fault.”

Apple Bloom stared indignantly at Spike as he deliberately threw her under the bus. “Hey!”

Diamond Tiara nodded earnestly in agreement. “He’s absolutely right, Miss Applejack. Apple Bloom came onto me and I just couldn’t resist her southern charm!”

The younger girl didn’t know whether to be insulted by the betrayal or feel complimented.

Applejack’s grip on Spike’s hair only loosened slightly. “And you expect me to believe you over my kin why?”

“It’s eleven inches,” he whispered, only loud enough for her to hear.

Applejack immediately let him go, instead grabbing the now dressed Apple Bloom by the wrist roughly and marching towards the door. “Young lady, you’d better get ready to have your hide tanned. You’d better pray to Celestia that Mac is gonna be more forgivin’ than me!”

Apple Bloom’s eyes widened as she realized that Cheerilee was probably still busy with her older brother.

Well, fuck.

Applejack whirled and pointed at Spike, still lacking any clothing. “And you, young man, you and me are going to have words. Hot, angry, passionate words.”

As soon as the two farmers stalked out of the room, both Spike and Diamond Tiara sighed heavily.

“That was close, huh?” quipped the young girl, getting back on the desk in hopes of continuing their session.

“Sure was,” Spike agreed, twirling a strange piece of red clothing in his hand. “ I managed to snatch her thong, though.”

The two of them laughed heartily at their friend’s expense, only to be scared pissless when a familiar head of rainbow-colored hair jutted from beneath Cheerilee’s desk.

“Rainbow Dash, how in Celestia’s name did you get under there?” Spike clutched his heart in surprise.

Dash decided to ignore his question, instead closing the open door behind them, cracking her knuckles. “You know, I thought that I’d be angrier, what with how you totally stood me up and instead decided to bone Applejack’s little sister and what’s-her-face here.”

She smiled genuinely, a tear coming down her cheek in joy. “But this right here? I’m about to be repaid in spades.”

Dash’s hands clenched the two teenager’s heads tightly, bringing them down to her waist level.

“Now, undress me.”

They obliged.

The One Who Races With Your Heart, Part 1

Luna moaned as the young boy’s hands moved across her back, rubbing her shoulders and rubbing out the kinks in her back.

“Where did you learn to use your hands so well?” The fact that she was using the modern language more and more around him did not go unnoticed.

Spike shrugged, before realizing that she wouldn’t be able to see him while he rested on her waist.

“Twilight usually comes home sore when she’s out doing work for Princess Celestia, so when we would go to the spa, I’d try and pick up a few things from the workers.” He grinned innocently as the moon princess writhed beneath him. “Am I doing well?”

She nodded her head rapidly in confirmation.

“Please Spike, go lower,” she begged.

He complied.

“Lower,” she urged.

He complied again.

“A little bit lower,” she said, purring.

He moved his hands further down the Princess’s body, until he reached—

“Oooh, if we were living south of the border right now, you’d have to marry me,” she moaned.

Spike laughed in contentment while Luna hummed, pleased at how her young apprentice seemed to be doing as much good for her as she him.

Oh, who am I kidding, she thought to herself. I’ve been selfish, keeping him to myself like this.

Luna moaned once again as Spike reached a particularly troubled nerve.

Then again, she pondered, what is a princess without her vices?

Spike coughed as Rainbow Dash looked down at him, infuriated.

“Well?!” she snapped.

“I guess it’s because I’ve done it like ten times so far recently?” He shrugged nervously as his manhood refused to rise again after getting acquainted with Apple Bloom southern orchards.

“It happens to the best of us,” he squeaked.

Rainbow Dash grabbed him by the hair, visibly trying to control her anger. “I’ve been waiting literally all day for this dicking, and you’re telling me you can’t get it up because of all the sex you’ve been having?”

Spike winced as he dangled from the shorter woman’s grasp. “To be fair, I’ve orgasmed like, what, eight times lately? I think number six was technically your fault,” he pointed out.

Rainbow Dash pulled back her fist in anger.

“Wait wait wait!” His eyes widened at her ferocity. “That totally came out wrong, I’m sorry.”

“Duh,” commented Diamond Tiara, still resting on the desk.

“Can it, twerp.” Rainbow Dash flicked the younger girl on her nub, causing the white-haired girl to convulse into a sudden orgasm.

“GAH!” Diamond Tiara twitched in her back as another tiring wave of pleasure rolled through her thighs, the heat in her stomach abruptly rising. “Curse my hair trigger!”

Dash turned back to the young man still in her grasp. “So? What do you have to say for yourself, spaghetti-dick?”

Thinking quickly, Spike came up with a proposition that would satisfy the apparently-homicidal nymphomaniac that was Rainbow Dash.

“I-if you let me rest for a bit, I’ll be ready to go, I promise.” Another idea struck him. “In fact, since you’ve been waiting so long, I’ll take you out on the town tonight. Just you and me.”

Rainbow Dash stared Spike in the eyes, long enough to make him think that she wouldn’t accept his offer.

“Alright then, you've got a deal. Go home and rest up, then,” she said, a smirk on her face. “I’m going to keep you up all night.”

Spike thanked Celestia that he was still alive.

“So, Luna, how much longer do you think it’ll take before I’m out of hibernation?” Spike asked, his hands still roaming the cooing Princess’s back.

Luna’s eyes shot open. “Crap crap crap crap crap!” She leapt off of the bed and vanished magically, leaving the young boy looking confused.

Moments later, the moon princess reappeared, looking slightly guilty.

“Now before you get mad, just hear me out, my friend. You’re amazing with your hands, and I haven’t been touched in a very, very long time—”

Spike felt dread creeping up his spine at Luna’s hesitance. “How long has it been, Luna?”

She was silent for a moment. Then, “I may have accidentally let you sleep a few extra…months. Eighteen, in fact.”

Spike’s eyes shot wide open.

Spike whistled as he hopped out of the shower, drying himself off and wrapping a towel around his waist. He glanced around, looking for the outfit he had left out for himself.

He groaned. “Twilight, this isn’t funny.”

The bookish girl called from downstairs, “Sorry Spike, but if you want your clothes back, you’ll have to come and get them!”

“I don’t have time for this, woman!” He called back.

“Deal with it!” She yelled.

Groaning, he ambled down the stairs, a few choice words already making reservations on the tip of his tongue. “Twilight, I’m going to be la—” He froze as he saw who was in her company.

“My my my, you certainly didn’t lie about his physique, Twilight,” purred Rarity, her eyes raking over Spike’s chest and legs. He’d have covered himself up if he wasn’t used to it by now.

“Is that really Spike?” squeaked a familiar high-pitched voice. “Is he going to be here for the sleepover too?”

Not another one. He looked over and saw Sweetie Belle gaping at him from her seat.

“Hey, Sweetie.” He inwardly rolled his eyes as he saw her blushing violently. “And no, I don’t trust Twilight or your sister to keep their hands to themselves.” Or you, for that matter.

Twilight pouted indignantly. “I’m perfectly capable of self-control!”

“Sturgeon,” he replied, instantly winning the argument.

“Rarity!” Sweetie Belle hissed to her sister from across the room. “Keep it in your pants, I think I want him!”

Spike facepalmed, while Rarity calmly sipped her tea. “Everyone does, dearest.”

“Twilight,” Spike growled impatiently, “where are my clothes? I’m going to be late, and I don’t want Rainbow Dash any more pissed off than usual at me!”

“You’re going out with Rainbow Dash?!”

Spike looked around, searching for the other familiar voice that unnerved him. He looked down. “What the hell—”

“Can I come too?” Scootaloo was crouched between his legs, looking up eagerly.

“Wha—no!” He scrambled from over her, wrapping his towel protectively around his legs. “What happened to everyone? When did you all become such perverts?”

“I’m not a pervert!” chirped Sweetie Belle

Spike narrowed his eyes at her. “Then why exactly are you holding my pants?”

She slowly rolled them up, before sitting down on them. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, Spikey-Wikey.”

“Hey!” Rarity snapped out of her ladylike demeanor. “That’s our thing, you unoriginal harlot!”

“Well, it’s not like he’d want your ragged old hide anyway!” Sweetie Belle barked back.

Twilight had to magically restrain the two from clawing each other’s eyes out.

Spike had had enough. “If I don’t get my clothes back right now, none of you are going to get any sex for as long as I’m staying here!”

A chorus of gasps. Twilight choked, “You wouldn’t!”

Spike snorted. “To save myself from Rainbow Dash? You bet I would.”

In seconds, his clothes were piled at his feet, folded.

“Freaking loons,” he muttered, walking back up to the loft.

He heard Sweetie Belle ask Rarity, “What’s a sex?”

“Eighteen months?!” screeched Spike, clutching his hair in panic. “That’s a year and a half! How could you let me miss that much time?”

Luna could only grin sheepishly. “Everyone makes mistakes?”

Spike groaned in frustration.

“If it’s any consolation, Spike, I’m more than willing to make it up to you.” She licked her lips unconsciously. “Over and over—”

“Not now, Luna!” he growled.

“Okay!” the once-proud princess squeaked.

“Ugh,” he moaned, “as soon as I get out of here, I’m going drinking.”

In silence, the green-haired young man donned his black jeans and purple dress shirt, making sure to button up all the way so as to attract as little attention as possible.

He turned to face the mirror, examining himself to make sure he looked alright.

Wait, didn’t I just button my shirt up?

Confused, he rebuttoned his shirt, only to find that his pants were sliding down his waist.

“You’re late.”

Spike looked over to see Rainbow Dash sitting on the windowsill, absentmindedly twirling his belt by the metal loop.

“How—” he started to say.

“I think we’ve already established that I’m fast, Spike.” For once, the usually boisterous young woman appeared serious, her gaze penetrating.

“Oh really now?” Spike raised an eyebrow. “You’re stealthy, I’ll give you that, but how fast are you, really?”

“Count to ten,” she ordered.

Starting his count, Spike gawked as Rainbow Dash dove headfirst through the doorway.

He was shocked when he found that he didn’t hear her land, or her footsteps as she ran back up the stairs mere seconds later, before he even reached ten.

“Bam,” she said, holding up a pair of light purple panties in Spike’s face, “courtesy of Sweetie Belle.”

Spike’s eyes widened. “You didn’t.”

A sexy smirk crossed her face. “She’ll notice in a couple of minutes, give or take. Skirts make it easy, though.”

Spike sputtered. “But—!”

Rainbow Dash shrugged. “But? I fail to see the consequences of my actions.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” he muttered.

“Now let’s get going, spoilsport. Every second we spend sitting around here talking is a valuable second that we’re not getting fucked up.” She grabbed him by the waist and walked toward the window.

“Dash, the door—” he started to say.

“Doors are for poor people.” She slipped her hand in his back pocket—along with Sweetie Belle’s panties—before jumping out of the window, with a screaming Spike in tow.

“You maniac! You’re going to get us killed!” he screeched, his voice an octave higher than usual.

Dash laughed manically as she held him bridal-style, sliding down a branch smoothly before falling off, onto her waiting motorcycle.

“Man, I always wanted to do that!” she chuckled, setting the shocked young man down behind her. Dash pulled her rainbow streaked helmet on, passing a similar-looking one back to Spike.

“Hold on,” she called back to him. “And feel free to grope me!”

“I just might!” snarled the still-rattled young man, slipping his hands inside of Dash’s fairly tight jeans to give her a wedgie.

She’s not wearing underwear. Why am I not surprised?

Dash let out a whoop when she felt his hands grasping her bottom. “Yeah, that’s the way to do it!” She revved the engine, speeding off to their destination.

Spike sighed as another frustrated young woman huffed and puffed her way away from him.

For Celestia's sake, tell them a dress looks good on them and they think they're already in your pants. He growled to himself as he spotted the same powder blue-haired vixen from earlier eying him over her Manhattan.

He slid out of his stool at the bar and made his way to a secluded corner of the restaurant, shooting a mild glare at anyone who tried to follow.

He considered his appearance.

Tan skin, green hair, and well in shape. A snort. Not exactly unappealing, but I have been getting more looks than on a usual Friday night.

Just as he sat down in his selected booth—thump—he felt the impact of another body drop onto the worn leather. He rolled his eyes as he turned to the newcomer.

A curious leg rubbed his underneath the table as a lovely face with pale green hair greeted him above.

"Hey there, cutie!" Ugh, her voice is like caramelized glass. "I saw you sitting over here all by your lonesome, and figured you could use some company!"

Spike's eyes widened as her foot, very much unwelcome, made its way up to his thigh before he grasped it firmly in one hand. She giggled innocently as she tried to fix him with a sultry gaze.

He lowered his voice to an angry mutter, so that only she could hear his next words.

"Listen here, because I'm not going to repeat myself."

“What’s this place? And why did we take your motorcycle to a place that’s literally right across from the library?”

Rainbow Dash looked over at the curious young man, incredulously.

“This is a bar,” she said, mockingly, “and because motorcycles. Now close your mouth, you’ll catch flies.”

Spike huffed as he crossed his arms. “I knew that, I’ve just never been on this side of town before.”

Dash rolled her eyes as she took him by the hand and led them to a couple of barstools near the front. “Just pipe down and try not to act like such a virgin, alright?” She pulled his stool closer to hers abruptly as she motioned to the bartender for a drink. “You already look like a whore’s wet dream.”

Spike was unsure how to respond. “Thanks, I guess?” Then, “Is something wrong, Rainbow? You’ve been kind of agitated all day.”

Dash stared flatly at him. “I haven’t had sex in a week, Spike. Seven days. That’s like, almost a year for dogs.”

“Unusual for you, but I fail to see how that’s relevant.”

Dash growled lowly. “I’ve been on my cycle, dumbass.”

Spike’s eyes widened. “Oh. Eww?”

Rainbow Dash’s narrowed in anger. “One more snide comment and you’re gonna find yourself on the business end of my Rainbowner.”

Spike blinked. “Your…what?”

“My twelve inch silicone lover. You two would make great friends, since he also got acquainted with Twilight’s ass not too long ago.”

What is it with me and threats of getting sodomized? “Uh, sorry?” What would Fancy Pants say right now? “I’ll, uh, let you make it up to me later?”

Rainbow Dash wasn’t buying it. “Shit kid, you don’t just put it out there like that, you gotta give me something to work for.”

Spike scoffed at her. “Oh really, now? I was under the impression that you’d drag me into a nearby alley and have your way with me.”

Dash took a swig of her beer and smirked at him. “A girl can only take so much, don’t tempt me.”

They stared at each other blankly for a couple of seconds, before making for the door.

“Only a quickie,” he said.

“Only a quickie,” she agreed.

“And so the gentlemanly stork tells his client, “I daresay, I do believe that I shall never try scat again! So he gets a mop to clean up the filth that is absolutely gushing from—”

Rarity’s story only grew more bizarre, to the horror of both Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo, and the sick amusement of Twilight.

“And so, to pay for his overwhelming gambling and alcohol addictions, the gentlemanly stork leaves the red light district for good, and instead makes a respectable living delivering offspring from local brothels. And that, my dears, is where babies come from.”

Rarity got up, collecting the silverware from the paralyzed young girls, before joining Twilight in the kitchen to ‘chat’ while doing the dishes.

“My goodness, I had always feared that that conversation would have been terribly awkward, but a little embellishment makes all the difference!” she exclaimed.

Twilight shook her head, a wry grin on her face.

“Rarity, you’re the worst kind of role model.”

Rarity chuckled good-naturedly at her friend’s jab.

“Twilight, my dear, I never exactly aspired to be a good one.”

They both laughed sadistically as they heard Scootaloo run outside to puke.

Moments later, they found themselves in a fairly secluded alley, devoid of life and dark enough to hide their activities.

“How do you want it?” Spike asked, shrugging his shirt off.

“As rough as you can give it,” she replied, taking off her leather jacket, revealing her wife-beater and dog tags.

Spike immediately stiffened, noticing that she wasn’t wearing a bra.

“I don’t usually say this to women, but you’ve got amazing abs.” He murmured.

Dash snorted, saying “So what you’re saying is, you usually say that to men instead?”

She snickered as she saw Spike’s frustrated reaction. “Good, get mad. Angry sex is the fucking best.” She leant against the brick wall of the alley, resting her head against her arms.

“Well? Do I have to slap some bacon on my ass or what?”

Spike rolled his eyes as he pulled Dash’s pants down, nipping her on the ass slightly as he did.

“Would it kill you to try some foreplay for once? Geez.”

Dash chuckled, her voice gaining a huskier tone than usual. “I swear, Spike, you were meant to be born with a vagina.”

She gasped when she felt him lining his erection up against her, before pushing into her roughly, his hands seeking out her breasts through her shirt.

He laughed at her reactions, twisting her already hard nipples teasingly. “Man, is it cold out here or what?”

Unfortunately for him, Rainbow Dash wasn’t so far gone yet that she would neglect to elbow him in the stomach. “Less talking, more ravaging,” she commanded.

In response, Spike grasped at her hair, pulling it back in order to push deeper into her.

“Mmm!” She leaned further against him, her small, lithe body absorbing his thrusts like a coiled spring. “Harder! Make it hurt!”

He complied, dislodging himself before pushing her stomach-first against the wall, pumping into her while she was inches off of the ground.

“MMM!” Dash’s breasts ground against the brick wall in an obscenely arousing way, her legs stiff as cardboard while her hips nudged her higher and higher.

He slammed into her, harder and harder, reveling in her moans as he cradled her masterfully crafted body. The firm cheeks of her ass flushed pink as he rubbed against them with every stroke.

Pulling out, Spike aimed his slick erection higher, and pushed against the firm resistance of Dash’s ass, lately noticing the cloud-and-lightning tattoo on both sides.

“AH!” She screeched, surprised at the sudden entrance. She nearly started to convulse when he slipped two fingers inside of her pussy, twitching rhythmically while he pulled on her hair with his teeth. His free hand grabbed her right leg, pulling it up to his hip to drive as far into her as he could.

Her moans almost sounded frantic as he worked her, moving savagely in and out of her ass as he took immense pleasure in making the dominating woman squirm beneath him.

His fingers pinched the clit near her opening, pulling a heaving scream from her lips. Spike marveled at how flexible she was, as Dash voluntarily moved her foot up to his neck, doing a partial split while still pressed face-first against the wall. He pressed even further into her heat, groaning as she enveloped his manhood like a vise grip wrapped in satin.

The crude slapping sounds of skin-on-skin and Dash’s increasingly desperate moans were getting to him, drawing Spike into what was sure to be a momentous orgasm.

Releasing Dash’s hair from his mouth, he moved his fingers from her crotch up into her mouth, making her suck his fingers to taste herself. He then grasped her by the neck and pulled her into a rough kiss, pushing into her one last time before hot spurts of seed filled her ass. He angled himself so that her folds would be rubbing against the brick wall, slowly moving her up and down, bringing Dash into a screaming orgasm muffled by their kiss. Her fluids rolled down the wall as her legs went limp, and the ferocious athlete rested against the stomach of the younger man, before they both fell down onto the cobblestone alley with a thud.

Dash laughed tiredly as she straddled the man beneath her, pants rolled down and nipples still poking against her shirt. “Hell, I haven’t been fucked like that since band camp.” She moved her mouth down to lick at his abs.

Spike panted, still caught up in the throes of pleasure thanks to his enthusiastic partner. “I’m going to do us both a favor and not go into how wrong that sounds.”

He paused as he heard a second set of breaths panting heavily. “What’s wrong, Dash? I thought a quickie wouldn’t be a problem for you?”

She looked up through the mess of her hair, magenta eyes confused. “It wasn’t.”

They looked toward the entrance of the alley, only to find a familiar purple-haired, tan-skinned girl staring back at them with impossibly wide eyes, chest heaving with panic.

“That,” Scootaloo said between breaths, “was amazing.”

The One Who Races With Your Heart, Part 2

The ever-watchful gaze of the sun goddess spanned across Canterlot, penetrating yet unintruding. Her ethereal hair flowed elegantly as she beheld her beloved city, thankfully perceiving no threats.

Celestia smiled to herself as she felt the familiar, cooling touch of her sister’s mind.

“Sister,” Luna called out to her using their mental link, “join your eyes with mine, and behold a most wonderful sight!”

Celestia obliged her unusually giddy sister, chuckling as her vision swam to match Luna’s. “Alright, Luna, what is it that holds your interest so m—LUNA!”

The moon goddess giggled mischievously while her sister gaped into the porcelain room in shock. “Yes, Tia?” She nibbled on her own finger in appreciation of the sight.

“This is an utmost invasion of privacy! You should be ashamed of spying on your own pupil while he bathes!”

Luna’s posture slumped as she twiddled her fingers, upset at being scolded. “So, you just want me to end it?”

Celestia snorted. “Heavens no! I just wanted you to know that you were in the wrong!” She turned her eyes back to the unaware teenager in the shower. “I've done my part.”

“So there I am, fucking the absolute shit out of this succubus’s mouth, when I think to myself, ‘Wait a minute, Rainbow Dash, haven’t you been awake for 50 hours at that marathon orgy? Isn’t that when the hallucinations start?’”

Spike and Scootaloo stared wide-eyed at the prismatic woman, totally engulfed in her tale.

“And?” Scootaloo asked. “What happened next?”

Dash chuckled, milking the younger girl for all she was worth. “Turns out I was just tripping on exhaustion and endorphins. I’ve never even seen a succubus!”

The three of them laughed together from their table in the bar, the events of the past ten minutes nearly forgotten.

Rainbow Dash sighed happily as she wiped a gleeful tear from her eye. “And that’s how I met Applejack.”

Spike nearly choked on his drink. “You mean to tell me that you met one of your best friends by mouth-raping her at an orgy?!”

Dash snorted. “Pfft, no! Somehow I managed to sprint all the way to Sweet Apple Acres, break in through Applejack’s window, and overpower her in the middle of the night.”

Scootaloo’s face screwed up in confusion. “Wait, isn’t that illegal?”

The unabashed woman kicked her feet up on the table, taking a swig from her beer. “Seeing as how she didn’t let me leave until she finished, I don’t think so.”

Spike was still bug-eyed, processing this new information.

“You’re crazy,” he finally stated. “You’re a psychopathic nympho with a loose grip on reality.”

Dash simmered at the insult. “Rainbowner,” she reminded him.

Spike said nothing, but glared at the athletic woman from across the table.

Dash looked over to the other member of their group. “Speaking of anal intrusion, how old are you, Scoots?”

After watching the young green-haired man finish his shower, and, to her great entertainment, subject Twilight Sparkle to a fair amount of well-deserved teasing, Celestia severed the vision. “So?” inquired her younger sister. “He has quite the noble heart, he is intelligent, and I can tell that his magic soon will be something to reckon with.” The moon goddess was now off to her sister’s side, casually stroking her chin. “I firmly believe that he is a Sparkle in all but blood. Do you not agree, dear sister?”

Dear me, thought the matriarchal figure, for Twilight’s sake, I certainly hope he isn't.

“Why do you withhold your thoughts, sister? He is quite the catch, yes?”

Celestia could only nod in affirmation. But inside, her stomach tumultuously churned, and her thoughts danced maddeningly.

Like fire.

As if walking in on her little sister in the middle of a threesome wasn’t scarring enough, Applejack found her day getting progressively worse when she stumbled upon Cheerilee and her older brother going at it.

After giving Mac a thorough tongue-lashing, she sent him and Apple Bloom to their respective rooms. She turned to the guilty-looking teacher, and steeled herself for the talk to come.

“Cheerilee, look, Ah know you have a long history with our family ‘n all, so Ah won’t kick your teeth in or nothin’.”

Cheerilee winced.

“See, Ah understand that with how much work ya put inta your job, and how motherly you can get ta feelin’, havin’ a personal life can be nigh impossible.” Applejack circled around the table, sitting down next to the magenta-haired woman on the couch.

“This just ain’t the way ta do it, sugar.” The buxom blonde farmer’s hand rubbed the back of Cheerilee’s back comfortingly, making the smaller woman feel less intimidated.

“Ah know Mac can be enticin’ to gals like you, what with how he looks like a southern Atlas when the sun hits his glistening pecs just right—”

The hell?! Cheerilee thought to herself.

“—but that don’t mean it’s right an’ proper to swoop in on tha farm and jump on my brother when no one’s around.”

“I-I understand, Applejack,” stammered the shrinking schoolteacher, subtly trying to inch away from the woman who was far inside her comfort zone.

“Seein’ as how Ah’m such a generous soul, and how you left my sister alone so she could get her hands on her crush,” Applejack’s grip tightened around her shoulder, “Ah’ll give you a choice: we can do this the easy way, or the kinky way.”

Cheerilee blinked at the bait-and-switch response. “I’m sorry?”

Applejack’s eyes narrowed. “You heard me, sugar.”

She meep’ed, trying to think of something to say to pacify the farmer. “W-which one is faster?”

“Kinky,” Came her immediate reply.

“Uh, okay?” She swallowed, resigning herself to her fate.

Applejack nodded. “These,” she said, pointing to Cheerilee’s chest, “and this,” running her hand along her bottom, “are mine.”

The poor schoolteacher nearly fainted.

“Aren’t you going to jump at me too?”

To break the awkward silence that had sprung up when the prismatic-haired hellion had left to go to the bathroom—“I gotta piss like a racehorse, don’t you two lovebirds run out on me,”—Spike decided to address the elephant in the room.

Scootaloo raised her eyes as she sipped from her cola. “I wasn’t planning on it, actually.” She lazily draped her foot over his lap as she grinned. “What’s the matter, stud? Got a hankerin’ for your old pal Scoots?”

Spike shook his head, somewhat relieved. “No, that’s not it.”

She pressed on regardless. “You sure? Because I always roll with my Scootalube, just in case.”

You can’t be serious. “Don’t tell me that you’re risking our country’s future on the chance that you may or may not,” he shuddered at the word, “procreate?”

Waving off the insult, Scootaloo clarified. “No, no, I haven’t actually done anything yet, just that I want to be prepared. You know, in the very likely situation that someone gets the urge to scoot in my loo.”

Spike resisted the urge to facepalm, muttering something about ‘freaking women’ under his breath.

“So what’s your deal, Spike? Considering you just got to drill my childhood hero with your Scootatube—”

“I swear to Celestia—”

“—your night should be going pretty well so far,” she finished, not missing a beat.

Spike grumbled, before deciding that the small purple-haired girl, while annoying, was better company than nothing. Or worse, he inwardly winced, one of those harpies that kept eyeing him from across the bar. Several of them had stark white hair, with fierce makeup around their eyes.

They reeked of trouble.

He turned his attention back to the girl sharing his booth. “Listen, Scootaloo, can I tell you something, and you not say anything stupid?”

“I make no promises,” she said solemnly, holding a hand to her chest.

He sighed, running a hand through his stiff green hair as he tried to gather his words. “Back when I was a kid, in Canterlot, I—” he hesitated, trying to convey his thoughts, “I had this…idea, of what I wanted to be when I grew up. I wanted to be this strong, handsome guy who was smart and didn’t treat people differently just because of what they looked like or how they thought.”

The shorter girl took notice of his curved ears and longer-than-normal teeth.

“I thought that if I had stuff like that, then maybe people would like me, and, I dunno, maybe then Twilight wouldn’t have a choice but to make some new friends, and we wouldn’t have to be alone so much.”

He smiled nostalgically as he recalled his childhood, unaware of Scootaloo scooting closer to him.

“And when we moved here, and we met all these wonderful people, I was so happy because Twilight wasn’t alone anymore, and she was making some friends.”

His smile slowly straightened. “But I…wasn’t.” He swirled his drink and stretched one arm onto the top of the worn leather of the seat. “Fast forward three years, and Twilight’s lying to me about going on a mission for the Princess so she and her friends can go see the Wonderbolts, and Pinkie Pie herself forgets my birthday and throws one for her friends instead.”

He snorted, not caring how whiney he sounded to the girl next to him. “Hell, Rarity even stopped calling me ‘Spikey Wikey’ after my twelfth birthday.”

He sipped his Manhattan, muttering, “One good-looking customer and you’re nothing but a problem. Tch.”

“I don’t get it,” chirped Scootaloo, who had somehow managed to worm her way onto his lap without him noticing. “You’re strong, you’re definitely not lacking in the looks department, and you’ve got these women practically begging you to pump them full of your Scootagoo. I mean, sure, you kinda got screwed over by your friends, but what’s not working out for you?”

Spike scoffed, taking another sip of his drink. “That whole ‘not judging people by how they look’ thing? Doesn’t apply to me, apparently.”

Scootaloo’s next response was interrupted by the sound of doors crashing open, followed by a familiar rainbow-haired woman flying across the bar and onto their table.

“Rainbow Dash!” Her number one fangirl immediately sprung to her feet, grabbing her moaning idol by the shoulders. “Who did this to you? What happened?!”

Spike flinched as he saw the white-haired women from earlier slowly get up and approach their table.

Along with an unfortunately familiar face.

Rainbow Dash coughed messily, wiping off a thin stream of blood onto her leather sleeves.

“Gilda mother-fucking Griffin happened.”

“Okay, okay,” choked Twilight, trying not to laugh, “I’ve got one: what did the English teacher say when she found that her student recorded on paper exactly what the teacher said, and how she said it?”

Sweetie Belle and Rarity waited in rapt attention.

“She said, ‘You make me sic!’” The awkward librarian slapped her knee heartily as she doubled over from the hilarity of her own joke.

“Ha ha ha ha!” Rarity and Sweetie Belle laughed fakely, not really understanding—or caring about, for that matter—any of Twilight’s attempts at wordplay.

“On a completely unrelated note, I do believe that I need to freshen up before bed, Twilight dear.” Rarity made a show of stretching before she got up, angling herself towards the bathroom. “But please, don’t let my absence stop you; I’m positive Sweetie Belle would be ever so grateful if you would bequeath to her some of your absolutely darling witticisms.”

I love you dearly, Sweetie Belle, but it’s time you took one for the team.

“Oh! What should we do while you’re gone, Rarity? Practice kissing like you taught me?”

Screw that, skank. It’ll be a cold day in Tartarus before you throw me under the bus like that.

Twilight gaped as she looked at Rarity accusingly, the pale-skinned fashionista visibly twitching.

“Oh ha ha, Sweetie Belle, you adorable little devil. Always the jokester—”

But having learned well, the younger sister quickly made to undermine the elder’s credibility. “Rarity has a wide-on for Celestia!”

Twilight gasped as she covered her mouth, while Rarity fumed indignantly at her treacherous little sister. “That’s a lie and you know it!”

“Oh Celestia,” mocked Sweetie Belle, doing fairly accurate impersonation of her older sister, “I come to you as but a humble suppliant begging to partake in your Royal relations!”

Sweetie Belle’s hands roamed down her sides in an all-too interesting manner. “I beg of you, my dearest Princess, grace my lowly body with your divine caress!”

Twilight shook her head, aware of the fact that she was staring at Rarity’s younger sister. “She, uh, does a good impression of you, Rarity. You sure that—”

“Positive,” she growled.

Stomping up the steps angrily, Rarity made a mental note to cut up Sweetie Belle’s dresses.

“And here I was thinking that I was down on my luck.”

Gilda cracked her knuckles as she stomped towards their table, tossing aside her aviator jacket, revealing a fairly muscular build covered only a dark grey muscle shirt and a training bra.

Spike had to remind himself not to drool over the woman that was inevitably about to kick their collective asses.

“Unfortunately,” she continued, “I’m involved with someone at the moment—”

Rainbow Dash snorted. “Who, Jill?”

Gilda only grinned. “—so instead of fucking your legs off like I usually would, I’ll have to settle for beating your ass into the pavement while my girls give your boy toy the once over.”

“Hey!” yelled Scootaloo, angry at being ignored.

“Fine,” Gilda casually remarked. “I guess we can ravish the groupie, too.”

"Booyah!" yelled Scootaloo, pleased at being included.

The patrons of the bar gathered around to view the brawl about to happen, some letting out whoops of excitement.

“Spike,” Rainbow Dash rasped as her old friend held her up by her collar, “think you can take these guys in a fight?”

Spike shrunk backwards at the three hungry looking women who were advancing toward him.

“I can’t fight girls, Rainbow Dash!” Spike gulped as they got closer. “They’re squishy…”

“You shouldn’t have any trouble fighting bitches, then,” she snarked.

Gilda snarled as she pulled back a fist. “Watch what you say about my girls, loser—”

She flinched as she felt a sudden draft on her chest. “What the—where did my shirt go?”

Rainbow Dash laughed as she tore Gilda’s muscle shirt in two. “Classic.”

“You little sh—” But she was interrupted as Dash clenched her hands around the back of her head, bringing the white-haired vixen in close for a fierce headbutt.

Gilda’s grip loosened momentarily, long enough for Rainbow Dash to drop down to her feet.

Dash grinned as she lashed out with a kick, knocking the taller woman back onto a table. The crowd cheered as she pounced on the now half-naked Gilda, pinning her wrists to the table.

She whipped her hair out of her face, smirking down at her once-friend.

“Glad I ran into you, Gils. It’s about time we had this out.”

Despite her size, Gilda struggled beneath the shorter woman. “What are you planning to do, Dash? Fuck me or punch my lights out?”

“Probably both.”

To the roars of the crowd, Rainbow Dash lashed out against her old friend, while her friends stood off to the side, before being dragged out of the bar.

Rarity stepped out of the shower, clad only in a towel. Humming softly to herself, she stepped softly in her room.

I know I put my night gown somewhere around here…

She rummaged around her satchel, flinching slightly when her hand brushed against a smooth, hard surface. She gasped when her eyes caught sight of a flawless sapphire spilling out of Spike’s bag.

Is that…

Rarity gaped as she realized that the same gem she had given to Spike nearly seven years ago had dropped out of his bag. Her eyes began to water.

After all this time, he still kept this?

She leant back, suddenly dizzy.

And after how we kept trying to get in his pants as soon as we saw him after four years? This is too much, oh dear, this is too much!

She started as the door to the loft creaked open, settling down once she realized it was just Sweetie Belle.

“Are you mad at me?” she squeaked.

Rarity sighed, pushing her hair from out of her face. “No, dearest, I’m not mad at you.”

Still going to cut up your dresses, but what are you going to do?

She patted the bed next to her, signaling for her younger sister to sit down. “It’s about time for you to go to bed, Sweetie.” She smiled gently as Sweetie Belle disrobed, getting underneath the covers. “Here, let me sing you your favorite lullaby.”

Sweetie Belle smiled as Rarity softly sang for her, her eyelids slowly drooping with every note.

My clothes aren’t the only things made of velvet, after all.

The younger woman was asleep before the song was over.

“You’re…you’re a monster!” gasped one of the white-haired girls, resting against the brick wall of the bar’s alley. She panted as sweat and cum streaked down her thighs. “No one should last that long!”

Spike barked a laugh as he took another drag from his cigarette. “You know, a couple of days ago, I would’ve thought the same thing.” He exhaled a cloud of smoke. “Amazing what a couple of days of constant rutting will do to you, huh?”

He looked at the rolled up paper in his hand. “Now where did I get this cigarette?”

Spike shrugged, turning to address one of the other girls in the alley. “Avis, ass up.”

The woman in question shuffled over, turning around slightly so that her thighs were facing the young man. Spike drew his cigarette from his mouth, snuffing it out on the muscular girl’s rear.

He raised an eyebrow as Avis moaned in delight at the pain she felt.

“Scoots, give Avis a once-over, and don’t be too gentle about it. Ix-nay on the Scootalube.”

The purple-haired midget cheered as she jumped on the naked young woman, pinching her nipples harshly and biting her on the neck.

Spike laughed at the display, pulling his pants back up as he gazed upon his handiwork.

“You three can’t fight for crap, you don’t last long on your backs, and your head game could use some work. I can’t believe Gilda runs with you clowns.”

He felt a shiver run down his spine, but when he turned around, he only caught a shock of red hair disappearing into the bar.

He paused in his taunting. Why do I smell brimstone?

The girl leaning against the wall growled at his insults, brushing the hair out of her face before replying. “You may be stronger than you look, I’ll give you that. But you wouldn’t last a minute against Gilda, little man.” She snorted. “Hell, you couldn’t even take her boyfriend.”

Spike raised his eyebrow in incredulity. “What makes you think so?”

The girl smirked, regaining some of her former cockiness. “Because he’s much better than you could ever hope to be. He’s strong, gorgeous, and he’s part dragon.”

Spike blanched.

“As a matter of fact, he was supposed to meet us here tonight.”

“Scootaloo,” he said, catching the young girl’s attention, “go get Rainbow Dash.”

The One Who Burninates You

The hairs on the back of Rainbow Dash’s neck stood on end, even as she drove her fist into Gilda’s stomach.

Why do I get the feeling that this is going to end badly for me?

She yelped as she was plucked up off of the ground, before being thrown headfirst into a wall decorated with expensive wines.

Dash forced herself not to scream at the feeling of glass digging into her skin. Instead, she focused on the sounds of the voices she heard as she struggled to climb over the counter.

“I leave you alone for one night, and you get your half-naked ass handed to you by some midget in skinny jeans?” A huff. “You can forget about getting laid, Gilda.”

Rainbow Dash could practically sense the embarrassment and anger that Gilda felt being talked down to, and noted how the air tasted…red.

She finally managed to pull herself over the counter, frozen as she recognized a most unwelcome face from her ever-increasing rogue’s gallery.

“You!” she rasped, woozy from blood loss, adrenaline and—she was reluctant to admit it—fear keeping her awake.

“Yeah,” Garble snarled, smoke snaking out of his nostrils, “me.”

Applejack let out a heavy sigh as Cheerilee walked back down the path into the town. She turned, facing Big Macintosh and Apple Bloom, who were both waiting lazily on the stairs.

Applejack smirked as she dug into her back pocket, pulling out a twenty and slapping it onto Apple Bloom’s outstretched palm.

“Heh, Ah had my doubts, Apple Bloom, but you really came through. Who woulda thought getting’ your family laid would be so easy?” She laughed, surprised at her younger sister’s handling of the situation. “By golly, that there’s a Batman gambit if Ah ever heard of one!”

Big Mac chuckled softly, reliving the moment when Applejack had dragged Apple Bloom home for “punishment.” Cheerilee had been so panicked when his younger sister had seen her cuddling into him; it took all of his measurable strength to keep from coughing up a lung at her antics.

Apple Bloom blushed, basking in the praise of her sister. “Sucks, AJ, twasn’t hard at all! After all, what’s family for?”

“Now, you should know that I enjoy the sight of two chicks slapping each other’s shit as much as any other guy,” Garble explained, “but I tend to draw the line when anything other than Garble Jr. is ramming into my girl’s stomach.”

The patrons of the bar hadn’t taken too kindly to the red-haired jerkass who had flung one of their best and brightest into shelves of alcohol, but their attempts to intervene in the fight quite literally blew up in their faces.

Great, Dash thought to herself as she backed up towards the door. Millions of guys that Gilda could’ve run into, and it has to be one of the ones that wants to spit roast me. She gulped, cradling her unresponsive arm—apparently she had been thrown harder than she thought, seeing as how it was dislocated—as she tried to focus despite her blood loss.

Garble stopped his walk forward as his head cocked as he sniffed the air in front of him. “That’s weird. You smell like…coal. Coal and sweat.”

She froze as she saw his muscles clench in anticipation. Crap, that’s right! He may want to snap me in two, but if he gets ahold of Spike—

The doors to the bar swung open. “Dash, I think we might be in trouble!”

Well, fuck.

Garble’s eyes widened in recognition of the green-haired teenager in front of him, before snarling. “Spike!”

Spike coughed, snapping his fingers awkwardly. “…Grumble!” he finally said, wincing when the foul-tempered young man glowered at him.

“It’s Garble, you little piss-ant! I was picking splinters out of my back for weeks because of you!”

“You got what you deserved, Garble.” Which is a stupid name, by the way. “You and your crew should leave while I’m still feeling nice.” He folded his arms, frowning when he saw Rainbow Dash stalk up to him, covered in cuts.

“Don’t make threats you can’t back up, Spike. Just have Scootaloo run and get Twilight before this goes south.”

Spike’s eyes flashed a dangerous green, steam rising from his ruffled hair. “Contrary to what you believe, I’m more than capable of taking care of myself.”

Rainbow Dash frowned, but backpedaled out of the bar, realizing a lost cause when she saw one.

“Fine, tough guy, but don’t come crying to me when Gilda’s boy-toy slaps your shit backwards.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” he muttered.

Garble snorted as he stalked towards the green-haired youth. “You’ve got a lot of nerve, shrimp. Waltzing in here like you own the place, claiming the members of my hoard, and forgetting my name after the hell you put me through?” He cracked his knuckles, flexing as he exhaled smoke from his nostrils. “You’re going to beg for me to kill you after I’m done here.”

Having learned early on in life to tune out threats after having lived so long with Twilight, Spike picked out the only bits of the conversation that he deemed interesting.

“What do you mean I ‘claimed the members of your hoard’? And how far is that stick up your ass that you had to be a misogynist on top of a red-blooded cu—”

“Enough!” Garble cut him off, steam rising from his hair.

“…nt.”

“I guess I’m not surprised at your ignorance, considering that you’re as much a failure as a man as you are a dragon.” The red-headed young man grinned when he saw the simmering look on Spike’s face. “Even you should know that dragons get stronger depending on the size of their hoard.”

Spike flashed to the disaster that was his birthday seven years ago. Yeah, don’t remind me.

Taking his silence as a cue to continue, Garble added, “What you probably didn’t know is that we get even stronger when we add people to our hoards.”

Spike raised an eyebrow. “How the hell does that work?”

Garble shrugged. “It’s magic, I ain’t gotta explain shit.”

Rolling his eyes, Spike posed another question. “How exactly do you ‘claim’ someone else?”

“Anal insemination,” Garble elaborated, appearing fairly disturbing with his casualness. “It’s an instinctual action for half-dragons to take, since we’re fertile to the point of ridiculousness. And since pretty much anything that runs through our bodies is saturated with long-term aphrodisiacs, it’s not that hard to do. That’s part of why we choose to live in seclusion.”

Spike’s eyes widened as he took into account this fairly important information that Princess Luna had neglected to tell him.

Okay, so first there was Bonbon, then Lyra, then Bonbon again…heh, talk about best night ever.

Garble coughed awkwardly as he saw the green-haired young man laugh perversely and wipe drool off of his cheek.

Then there was Twilight, then Derpy, then Rainbow Dash and Gilda’s harpies.

Spike’s grin slowly widened as he took into account his advantage.

“So, let’s say I scored with some jackass’s harem, how strong would that make me?”

Garble snorted, waving his hand distractedly. “Three’s not bad, but for a wimp like you, it’d only make you about twice as strong as you were before. Without any proper training, you’re barely even a thre—”

His sentence was cut by Spike’s fist finding itself lodged in his face.

“Son of a bitch!” Garble curled into a ball on the ground, cradling his nose.

Spike flexed his fingers, excitement apparent on his face when he realized that he didn’t even remember moving one foot in front of the other.

“Holy crap, this is just like in Naruto!” he exclaimed.

“Ugh, you have terrible taste in entertainment!” moaned Garble from his place on the pavement.

Rainbow Dash and Gilda gaped from the sidelines. “I couldn’t even follow that,” murmured the white-haired fury.

Spike laughed as he pelted Garble out the door, still marveling over his abilities. “Who would’ve thought that loads of sex would give you superpowers? It’s almost like—” his eyes widened as he recalled a comment that BonBon once made. “Like Celestia’s gifted me with the strength of ten whores!” He laughed at the irony of the situation.

“Now, what was that about making me wish I was dead?”

Twilight sighed as she listened to her friend about her ‘discovery’ upstairs.

“That’s a relief. Earlier this morning, we were talking about the day he left, and he seemed really upset about it.”

Twilight paused in her discussion with Rarity.

“Do you hear something? I could’ve sworn that I—”

“SHORYUKEN!”

Both women stared, wide-eyed, as a red-headed young man careened through one open window of the library, and out the other. They started as Spike dove through the exact same window, wearing only his pants and a heavily scorched shirt.

Rarity sipped her tea calmly, not batting an eye as he exited the library through a window on the opposite wall.

“I think he’s taking it rather well.”

“Afternoon, Pinkie Pie!” Spike called out as he swung the door to Sugar Cube Corner open.

“Heya, Spike!” she called back. “What can I getcha?” She was tending to the stove, pouting when the pilot light refused to work. A filled cake pan was off to the side, forgotten.

“Actually, I was wondering if I could help you out,” he commented, moving over to the stove.

“Aww, thank you Spike!” she exclaimed, pinching his cheek with one hand and making baby faces at the irritated teenager. “Aren’t you just the most considerate widdle thing?”

Spike winced as he slowly removed Pinkie’s hand from his face. “Er, yeah.”

He looked over, eyeing the pan of batter. “Here! Let me cook that for you.”

Without waiting for a response, Spike took in a deep breath and lit the pan of batter of with a burst of flame. Pinkie Pie’s eyes widened when he ceased the stream of fire.

The cake was completely cooked, without a scorch mark or blemish to be found…

…not to mention that it smelled fairly enticing as well.

“Okay, forget what I said earlier.”

Garble picked himself up off of the pavement, wiping a thin stream of blood from his cheek.

“I’m not just going to kill you,” he said, snarling. “I’m going to bite your fingers off one by one, and then I’m going to rape you on a bed of nails and rub your wounds with salty lemonade.”

Spike winced. “That sounds...excessively violent.” He paused. “And rehearsed.”

Garble shrugged, a dangerous grin on his face. “Avis is a fuh-reak.” His grin dropped, and the hairs on the back of Spike’s neck stood at attention. “But I digress.”

The red-haired man let out a burst of flame with such intensity, Spike quickly had to return fire—literally—so that the library behind him wouldn’t be engulfed in flames.

A bright flash of light obscured his vision, forcing him to close his eyes to avoid any lasting damage. Upon reopening them, he flinched at the sight of the murderous-looking man lunging through the fire and flames, killing intent radiating off of him like heat from a furnace.

It was a moment or two before Spike realized he had been struck to the ground, and was being pulled along the hard, cold road by his hair. He grunted in pain, clawing out in vain at his captor.

“I bet you think you’re real clever, don’t you?”

Garble had dragged him up to his feet, before slamming a flaming fist into the side of Spike’s jaw.

Spike yelled in agony, so deep in pain that couldn’t tell if that was his bones burning, or his skin crunching.

“You think that claiming women and being a smartass makes you strong? You think you’re above the rest of your kind, like some sort of ‘man about town’ who knows how to get what he wants?”

A fierce knee to the gut, and Spike knows by the sudden cold in him that something permanent and unquestionably terrible has been done.

A cruel, malicious smirk crossed Garble’s face, as if nothing else could convey the malefic intentions he had for the victim dangling in his grasp. “You think you’re the only one?”

The red-haired bastard opened his mouth wide, wide enough for Spike to see the spark that comes before a burst of flame.

Struggling, he drew on the alarmingly low amount of magic in his own body, and—upon finding that it was too cold to be ignited—opened his mouth, shouting a flurry of sparks into Garble’s mouth.

The taller man coughed and wheezed as the sudden explosion in his mouth scorched his throat, causing him to double over.

Having nothing left to keep himself running, Spike collapsed onto the cobblestone road.

“So, is there anything else I can help you with?”

Pinkie Pie shook her head rapidly, grinning as she decorated the gorgeous looking cake in front of her. “Nope! That’s it for today.”

Spike rocked back and forth on his heels. “Are you sure there isn’t something you’re forgetting?” Pinkie Pie looked at him questioningly. “Something that involves you and me…?”

Pinkie’s face was blank for a moment, before lighting up in a red-faced grin. “Spike, you dog!”

He froze immediately. “Pardon?”

“See you around, stud.” She winked at him playfully, chuckling as she turned back to lovingly tending to her sexy, sexy cake. ” Maybe when we’re older, huh?”
Spike hung his head, face-palming as he realized that Pinkie Pie had completely misread his intentions. Alright, he thought to himself, so Twilight, Rarity, and Pinkie Pie haven’t remembered my potentially last day as a conscious person. Not so bad. He walked out the door, considering the possibilities. Then again, they may just be planning me a surprise party!

He was so deep in his thoughts, he almost hadn’t heard Pinkie Pie call out from the kitchen.

“Who knows, maybe you’ll let me lick some batter off of you?”

Spike had to cover his face in embarrassment when some of the patrons in the front room chuckled at his expense.

Spike woke to the sound of beeping.

Ugh…kill it with fire…

He realized the irony of the statement a little late.

The grip around his wrist that he hadn’t realized was there tightened.

“Spike? Are you awake?”

That sounds like Twilight, he noted.

“No…” he wheezed.

He winced when he felt her fingers flick him across his forehead.

“Oh, thank goodness you’re all right!” cried a soft voice from beside him.

Spike realized that he didn’t know how many people were in the room. Finally opting to open his eyes, his heart nearly stopped when he found eleven pairs of eyes trained on him.

Donotpissyourselfdonotpissyourselfdonotpissyourself

Princess Celestia sat at the side of the bed, cradling Twilight’s hand in her own.

She looked as if a great weight had been lifted from her chest.

“You gave us quite a scare last night, Spike.” She stroked Twilight’s hair gently, comforting her student while addressing the young man in the hospital bed. “How are you feeling?”

Spike winced when he tried to speak, feeling that his throat was cold and dry. He swallowed before replying. “I feel like there’s a chunk of ice in my gut.”

The alarm he felt at the weakness of his voice—he hadn’t said, he had croaked—must have been obvious, because the Princess had winced and he had heard Twilight choke back a sob.

“Your fire sac broke, dearest.”

Spike’s eyes widened when he realized that Princess Luna was in the room as well—scratch that, behind him, apparently holding him in her lap protectively—combing through his hair with her fingers.

“During your…altercation,” she choked, “you lost your ability to use your fire, as well as most of your strength. It will return with time, but for the moment…” she trailed off.

“We almost lost you, my young friend.” Spike started again—I swear, I’m on this side of a heart attack these days—when he realized that the voice belonged to Fancy Pants.

“Not to sound ungrateful,” he croaked, “but what are you doing here?”

“Well, when they had you moved to Canterlot, I was called in to perform your operation.” He smirked good-naturedly as Spike twisted his head in confusion. “I’m a surgeon in my spare time, you see.”

Spike tried to shrug. He slowly realized that his body wasn’t responding.

“Why can’t I—”

Luna interrupted him, saying “Your operation was a painful one, Spike. Debilitating, actually. The only areas of your body that weren’t suffering from intense agony were your forehead and left arm. We had to magically paralyze most of your body so that you wouldn’t be crippled in pain.”

Rainbow Dash spoke up from the corner of the room. “It’s my fault,” she muttered. “It was a bad idea going out like that in the first place.” She stared down at the cast on her arm, unwilling to meet anybody’s eyes. “We should’ve gotten out of there as soon as Gilda’s crew showed up.”

Scootaloo, who was standing at her side, said nothing.

No, it wasn’t your fault. I was being stupid and stubborn. Spike opened his mouth to say as much, before he was interrupted again.

“No, Dashie, it was my fault.” All eyes turned to Pinkie Pie, whose hair had flattened to a depressing shade of greyish-pink.

She looked up at Spike, her tear-streaked eyes wobbling pitifully. “Twilight told us about your birthday. About why you went to Canterlot.”

Oh.

“I-if I hadn’t forgotten about it, then you never would’ve had to go away, and you wouldn’t have gotten beaten up so badly!” She stopped just short of bawling, burying her face into Applejack’s shoulder. “You needed real friends,” she sobbed, “and all you had was me.”

Spike wanted nothing more than to get up and embrace the poor girl, but he realized with aggravating clarity that the severity of his injuries would not allow it.

“We really do feel terrible, darling.” Rarity spoke up, rubbing her hands together nervously. “It’s just, ever since that day, everything about us just changed.” A pause of silence passed, as six pairs of eyes connected, all arriving at the same definition of what she meant. “Could you ever forgive us?”

The green-haired teenager felt an explanation on the tip of his tongue, grasping at the back of his mind. Something he knew that would explain all the craziness that had happened between him and his closest friends.

He realized that his former crush wasn’t taking his silence as a good sign.

“No, Rarity, of course I can, it’s just…” It’s on the tip of my tongue!

“All of you, I mean—” He was tripping over his words, trying to work out speaking—babbling, really—and thinking at the same time.

His head was a shambles, trying to think of something to say that would pacify them, trying to make sense of something that would pacify him as well.

I swear, Garble must’ve punched out the part of me that can rationalize well.

His eyes widened, mouth forming a small ‘o’ as realization struck him.

Garble. Claiming. Dragons. APHRODISIACS.

“Everything about us just changed,” Rarity had said not a couple of seconds ago.

It clicked into place as Spike realized the colossal fuck-up that may have been entirely on him.

Sweet bearded Celestia fuck me with a diamond cestus!

“…what?” replied the titular ruler, a blush lining her cheeks as she tried not to imagine visually what he had just said.

The room was dead silent.

“Did…I say that out loud?”

Applejack stared straight into his eyes. “Eeyup.”

“So what you’re saying,” Twilight replied for confirmation, “is that when you cooked Pinkie Pie’s cake for her, you accidentally imbued it with aphrodisiacs that made us more aggressive and sexually active?”

“Pretty much,” Spike confirmed.

"And this somehow never happened before when you used it on other foods, why?" she continued.

"Puberty?" he suggested, shrugging.

“And you’re forgiving us for years of neglect and forgetting about your possibly last birthday as a conscious person for who-knows-how-long?” Pinkie Pie added, her hair slightly less limp than before.

Channel the Princess, Spike reminded himself, which wasn’t so hard when she was right next to him.

“Shit happens,” he said, shrugging.

Twilight gave him a look that said, You’ve been hanging around Rainbow Dash too long.

He gave her back a smirk that said, I know.

“I don’t get it,” squeaked Sweetie Belle from her place on Rarity’s lap. “If only you guys ate the horny cake—” Rarity slapped her on the hand, “then how come so many people wanted Spike so badly?”

Princess Luna interjected, “The dragon-blooded people are naturally attractive, young one. It’s an adaptation developed to keep their race alive. Pheromones and natural fitness have a heavy hand in determining their mates.”

Sweetie Belle perked up in excitement. “Oh! So dragons are kind of like those vampires from that book!”

Princess Luna narrowed her eyes, petting Spike’s hair as she calculated a response that wouldn’t crush the young girl’s spirits. She leaned down, whispering into her young charge’s ear.

“Would you mind terribly if I struck her?”

“If you do,” he whispered back, “no more massages for you.”

“Zounds,” she cursed.

“So…everything evens out?” asked Rainbow Dash, shifting sorely from her place at the end of the bed.

“Depends.” He grinned weakly. “Do you guys think you can forgive me into inadvertently turning you all into sex-crazed maniacs?”

Celestia choked on her slice of cake. “I’m sorry?! When did this happen?”

Fluttershy smiled wanly in response. “I’m sure we can put it behind us,” she said.

Spike’s smile reached his eyes as he turned his head to face his oldest friend. “Still friends?”

Twilight leaned in close and pecked him gently on his cheek, her age-old What am I going to do with you smile on her face.

“Always.”

The One Who Resists Temptation

"So I'm sitting around in my room after practice, minding my own business. Spitfire's been running us tight all weekend, so I'm looking to unwind, yeah?"

Shining Armor rolled his eyes. "Soarin', for the last time, I'd appreciate it if you didn't start every conversation about you burping the worm." He raised his beer to his lips, taking a long, slow draught from it.

But the blue-haired athlete rambled on, somehow managing to keep his face straight. "No no no, see, here's where it gets weird. So I'm lying around in my hammock sucking my dick—"

The captain of the royal guard nearly choked on his drink, eyes watering. "I'm sorry, what?"

Soarin' rolled his eyes at the distraction. "Yeah, I'm a snickety-snake, big deal. Anyway, while I'm playing the skin flute, Fleetfoot decides now's an excellent time to bust my doors down and have a heart-to-heart or some crap."

Shining Armor finally recovered, wiping his mouth and pounding his chest, trying to ignore the looks the other patrons of the bar were giving him. "So what you're saying is, your teammate walked in on you giving yourself head?" He winced. "How exactly did that work out for you?"

Soarin' grinned, folding his hands and leaning forward in his seat. "Well, let me break it down for you, soul brother…"

"Ah yes, this seems to be the place." Fancy Pants murmured as he opened the door to the bar.

Spike followed behind him, wary of his surroundings. "Are you sure we should be here? I don't exactly have a good reputation with bars."

The blue haired gentleman waved off his concerns. "Don't worry, I promise you that nothing will go wrong. Probably."

Spike rolled his eyes. Thanks for the vote of confidence. "I sure hope so. The last time I stepped into a place like this, it took me months to get better."

Fancy Pants smirked, nodding to the bartender as the two of them headed into the tavern. "We could always go visit that feminist demonstration down the road."

The young green-haired man shivered, gritting his teeth at the suggestion. "I dare you to go one day without getting me entangled in some sexual fiasco."

Fancy Pants grinned patronizingly at his young friend. "Oh, did you learn a new word during your recuperation?"

"Actually, I learned three, you deplorable cloaca."

The two's conversation gradually drifted off as they approached their table.

"And so this gumby fucker's running through the hallways screamin' his head off about how I'm gay and everything." The blue-haired Wonderbolt waved his hands erratically. "And the entire time, I'm stumbling out of my room, pulling up my pants and trying to get my dick out of my fucking zipper. And I'm all like 'I ain't gay, I just suck dick!'"

Spike coughed into the palm of his hand, trying to ignore the stares that they were attracting.

"Spike, is that you?" Shining Armor got up from his seat and clapped the young man on his shoulder. "You really shot up these last few years, huh?"

Spike chuckled nervously, barely able to look Twilight's older brother in the face. "Time flies, huh?"

"You said his name was Spike?" Soarin' turned to the green-haired young man as well. "How's Rainbow Dash doing?"

Spike's thoughts immediately shifted to the night he spent with Rainbow Dash, sweating and panting against a brick wall after their brief but intense encounter.

"Uh…"

Fancy Pants smiled as he sat down at the small table next to his friends. "That reminds me, how are your lovely young friends doing back home? It's been quite some time since we last saw each other.

Spike recalled the afternoon last spent with a certain one of his friends…

"Fluttershy, are you here?" Spike yelled, wiping sweat off of his brow as he searched the perimeter of Fluttershy's cottage. "I got your message from one of the birds you sent. What's the emergency that you mentioned?"

A voice called out from the back of the small building. "Spike, over here! Quickly!"

The green-haired youngster rushed to help his friend, nearly tripping over himself when he found her.

Sunbathing.

"Oh, thank goodness you made it in time!" Fluttershy said, clasping her hands to her chest.

"What…seems to be the problem?" Spike asked, doing his best to keep his eyes above her neckline.

"Well," she started, "I was feeding the ducks when I saw that Count Quackula was having trouble swimming."

"You named your duck Count Quackula?"

"That usually means that he hasn't been taking his supplements," she continued, "and it turns out that we ran out of the medicine that supports his uropygial gland, so I had to apply olive oil directly to his feathers so he wouldn't drown."

Spike blinked. "Sounds like you took care of the problem, Fluttershy."

But the pink-haired beauty simply shook her head. "That wasn't the problem, though."

"Then what is?"

She gestured to a blotch of liquid on her back. "I spilled some oil on myself by complete accident, and I need another pair of hands to help me get rid of it!"

Spike stared at her skeptically. "How did you manage to spill oil on your back without meaning to?"

But Fluttershy grabbed the startled young man by the shoulders, and pushed him down forcefully onto her lawn chair. "SHUT UP AND HAKUNA MY TATAS!"

Post-flashback, Spike shrank under Fancy Pant's expectant stare.

"Uh…"

Despite his obvious discomfort, Shining Armor likewise pressed his questions upon the young man.

"Twilight's told me about how you've been in Canterlot ever since your fight with that other dragon guy. Have you had a chance to visit the folks yet?"

Panic momentarily forgotten, Spike looked at the captain of the Royal Guard in confusion.

"Huh?"

Shining Armor rolled his eyes good-naturedly. "You know, the 'rents? The old buzzards who more or less helped raise you?"

In Spike's mind's eye, he recalled his last meeting with Twilight and Shining Armor's parents, but a few weeks past…

"Mrs. Sparkle, are you sure we should be doing this?" Spike fidgeted nervously as the older woman whipped off her blouse, exposing a beautifully pale braless chest.

"Oh Spike, you wonderful, wonderful young man." She chuckled, hooking a finger through his belt loop and dragging him down to the bed, pulling him on top of her. "Of course it's fine. You have no idea how much I need this."

The sound of a door opening reached their ears, and Spike's eyes widened as a pipe and robe hit the floor.

"How much WE need this."

Spike's eyes turned wide as dinner plates.

"UH."

The three older men stared at the flustered teenager as he tripped backwards, bumping into a waitress by accident.

"Sorry!" he said hastily, at least mildly relieved to be on a completely different topic.

The waitress looked him up and down, growling. She said in a husky whisper, "If your dick is as hard as your elbow, don't be."

FUCK

"I have to pee!" Spike yelled, far louder than he had intended to.

The restaurant watched as he stumbled into the bathroom…

…and as he exited, blushing, and stumbled into the right bathroom.

Spike washed his face in the bathroom sink, trying to clear his mind.

Okay, how do I do this? So I may have ended up bedding the family and friends of three older men who're more than capable of killing me.

He gulped. I've been through worse, at least.

He started as the door to the men's bathroom burst open, only to find himself looking up at a familiar face.

"Oh, Big Macintosh," Spike said, smiling and covering his heart. "You really startled me there."

"Ah know what you did." Came the angry reply.

Spike froze, suddenly wary of apple farmer. "W-what do you mean?"

"Ah know what you did with my sister," he snarled, muscles rippling as the robust man clenched his hands.

"Oh…that." Spike said. His voice reduced itself to a small, meek whisper as he backed up in fear.

"Way I hear it, you've been getting' around a fair deal lately. Miss Twilight, the Mayor, a couple of skanks at some bar—"

At this, Spike rose up indignantly. "Now hold on a moment, Lyra and Bon Bon are not—"

"Not them, the white-haired ones that watched you get your ass kicked," he corrected.

Spike considered that for a second. "Oh, them. Yeah, they were skanks."

In response, the burly apple farmer only stepped forward menacingly.

"Please, we don't have to fight," Spike begged. He still hadn't fully recovered from his encounter with Garble, and he couldn't be sure that he would stand a chance against Applejack's older, stronger brother.

"Tell me, Spike," the living statue said, ignoring his statement, "y'all ever make love to a man before?"

Spike's eyes shrunk to the size of pinpricks.

Then he started to cry.

"Please don't do this, I'm softer than I look!" the young man bawled, covering his backside protectively with his hands.

"Ah know." The farmer said, advancing and pushing Spike into a nearby stall.

"I-I'm really young, and this'll tear up my insides, and-and I'll never be able to marry—"

Big Macintosh said nothing, closing the stall door behind him. He took one massive hand and ripped the back of Spike's jeans. "So everyone knows what happened here," he clarified.

Spike sniffled, not bothering to fight anymore as he put his hands against the walls to brace himself.

Why didn't I stay in bed today?

He felt the arm on the back of his neck tighten, grow smaller in size. A mouth leaned in close to his ear.

Bed of nails, it snarled, each word hot as if a dragon had spat them out.

Spike catapulted up in bed, sweating profusely. His green hair was matted down, eyes wide and dull in color.

The door to the loft swung open, and a familiar face popped in.

"Spike? Are you okay?"

The green-haired young man panted, brushing his hair back with his fingers as he looked to the open door. "Applejack?" he asked when he managed to catch his breath. "What are you doing here?"

The farmer approached the bed, sitting down on the edge and placing her hand on his leg. "Twilight's out running some errands for the Princess, and she won't be back for a while. She wanted me to come over and check on you."

Spike blinked, adjusting the sheets as he sat up in bed. "Really? What's she doing?"

Applejack made sure not to meet his eyes. "She didn't say."

But before Spike could call her on her lie, the apple farmer spoke up again. "You sure you're alright? The way you were groaning, it sounded like you were having a hell of a nightmare."

Looking at the young blonde, and considering her relation to the subject of his torment, Spike shuddered. "I guess you could say that."

Applejack moved up the side of the bed, wrapping a firm arm around Spike's tense neck. "Spill, sugar. What's eatin' you?"

Spike stared ahead. "It's late, Applejack. I'm not exactly in the mood to have hot, angry, passionate words."

She slapped him upside his head in annoyance. "Believe it or not, I don't spend every waking minute I'm around you eager to get in your pants."

Spike looked over in mild surprise. "Really?"

Applejack rolled her eyes. "Yeah, really. Now would you tell me what's botherin' you? I ain't one for twenty questions."

Spike was silent for a manner of seconds, before muttering something under his breath.

"Come again?" Applejack pressed, poking her finger into his side.

Spike groaned, shifting away from the farmer, arms crossed. "I said I've been having this nightmare."

Applejack cocked her head. "'Nightmare?' You mean you've been havin' it more than once?"

Spike nodded. "Well, usually. There was that one time I melted from the inside out."

The apple farmer cringed. "Shouldn't you be gettin' looked at? All this sounds a little dark for someone your age."

"That's the thing, though." Spike said, folding his fingers. "These dreams are so vivid, I could swear they're really happening. Some nights I wake up smelling alcohol and brimstone."

"What—"

"That's what Garble smells like," he muttered, habitually clutching the patch of colored skin on his stomach where his body had warped and his fire had left. "That's what he always smells like."

"What are your dreams usually about?" Applejack asked.

Spike was hesitant in answering, not sure how she'd take his inclusion of her brother in his nightmare. "I see the family and friends of the women I've been with, some I haven't been with," he admitted. "I try to get away before they find out the truth, but someone always catches me."

"What happens then?" she pressed.

"Dark things," Spike murmured, clutching his arms around his chest. "Dark, anally things."

Applejack was silent for a while, before speaking up. "Ah ain't much for interpretin' dreams, Spike, but I'd have to say you've got some guilt issues goin' on that you need to address."

"I know," Spike groaned, rubbing his face with his hands. "I mean, on one hand, I know I'm not going out and looking for sex, but they always find me." He rushed to elaborate before Applejack could interject, "I know that I'm still responsible, but still."

Applejack mulled that over for a few seconds before saying, "And on the other hand?"

"Garble's still out there." His body involuntarily twitched at the mention of his name. "If I don't get better, he'll slaughter me the first chance he gets."

"You know he's got to be in bad shape too, sugar," she pointed out. "There's no reason to worry yourself half to death. Besides, all of us are here for you. You really think we'd just let 'em waltz right in and kill you?"

"You didn't see him, Applejack," he insisted. "He nearly broke Dash, and he nearly killed me."

"Yeah, so?" she argued. "Ya learned your lesson, and now you know he's out there."

Spike grumbled. "That doesn't make me feel better, though."

Applejack crossed her arms over her chest. "What will, then?"

Spike pondered his response for a moment. "Sleep with me," he said.

Applejack's shirt was already off by the time he finished his sentence. "Y'all sure? I'd hate to take advantage of you when you're distressed."

But he raised his hands in protest. "I meant that literally, Applejack. I want to have someone nearby, in case the nightmares come back."

Applejack grumbled, pulling her jeans back up. "Probably should've phrased that better, then."

"Sorry," he muttered. "You can keep the shirt off, thou—oh my God, you can grind meat on those abs."

Applejack rested her hat on the nightstand next to his bed, settling in place under the sheets. Spike lowered his head to rest on her chest as his hand wrapped around her waist. "I have to say, Applejack, you're the prettiest man I've ever had the privilege of cuddling."

The farmer ignored his smartass remark, and instead wrapped one strong arm around her friend's shoulders. "You sure you don't mind sleepin' with me? I'm no Rainbow Dash, but Ah'm not always so noble when it comes to keepin' my hands to myself."

"Don't worry," Spike said, without hesistation. "I trust you."

Applejack was stunned into silence.

"Dammit."

The Ones Who Give You Solace

“Where do you think he’s run off to?"

Applejack shrugged. "No idea. I woke up this mornin', and the bed was empty. No note, no nothing." She sported a frown as she nursed her black coffee.

The two of them had engaged in light conversation, lounging in Sugar Cube Corner's front dining room.

Pinkie Pie sighed at her place behind the counter. She tapped idly at the cash register, head in one hand, opening and closing the machine in boredom. "That's too bad. I don't think he should be running around, what with his condition and all."

The southerner paused, raising her eyebrow. "You realize he can move around just fine? He can't use magic anymore, but Spike's all right otherwise."

Pinkie Pie snorted, wrinkling her nose. "I meant the whole 'cornered by women wherever he goes' thing."

Applejack shrugged in return. "I dunno. He's a red-blooded teenager. The novelty of that sorta thing must be real—"

The door flung open, and a haggard-looking young man wearing a hoodie bolted through the door. He slammed the door shut, darted forward, and grabbed a chair, propping it against the door.

"What in tarnation?" Applejack yelled, starting from her seat.

The young man pulled down his hood, revealing a bloodily-scarred face with verdant green hair.

"Hide me," he begged.

Two sets of eyes widened, even as Pinkie dashed over the counter and slung the formerly missing young man over her shoulder.

"Spike?!" Applejack said incredulously. "What in blazes happened to you?"

"I'll tell you when it's safe!" he called back to her as Pinkie ran up the stairs.

"Gummy, cover for me!" she yelled.

"*gurgle*"

Applejack sighed, grabbing her hat and following her friends up into the loft.

"Eat." Pinkie commanded, handing a pastry to the heaving youth.

Spike stared at the baker. "Pinkie, how the hell am I supposed to eat a double-decker cake?"

"Like this!" She reached a hand out, plucked a handful of chocolate and vanilla marble goodness, and forcefully pushed it into his mouth. "Shh, it'll be okay." She sucked in her breath when her fingers passed into Spike's mouth. "That's right, take it all you filthy—"

"Pinkie!" Applejack nearly shouted, wrestling the other girl's arm away. "Land sakes, girl, give 'em some space!"

The other girl pouted, but complied, pulling her fingers away.

Applejack turned to Spike, who was still coughing the food down. "Now, would ya mind explainin' just how you went and got yourself all cut up?"

"Agh frg ohb huh bhg," he mumbled through the mess in his mouth.

The apple farmer rolled her eyes. "Wanna try that again? A little clearer this time?"

Spike paused, then swallowed the bulge of food. After a series of coughs, he said, "I fell on a wolf."

Applejack and Pinkie Pie stared at him incredulously. "Come again?" the farmer asked.

Spike sighed, sitting back on Pinkie Pie's bed. "I got up this morning, went to the stairs, tripped down the stairs, and fell on a wolf sitting in front of the stairs."

"What was he doing there in the first place? And how do you get up first thing in the morning and trip down the steps?"

Spike glared at her. "Probably the same way someone would leave their shirt and boots right in front of them."

Applejack winced. "Oh."

Spike threw his arms out in exasperation. "Why the hell do you even have spurs? You don't ride anything!"

Pinkie Pie cocked her head, leaning back on hands. "What exactly was it doing there in the first place?"

The green-haired man shrugged, crossed his legs, and fell back on the bed. "I put an ad online in the personals. I was supposed to be meeting someone for a blind date—figured that appearances wouldn't get in the way. Turns out that a 'BBW' doesn't always mean what you think it does."

"But you're freakishly strong!" Pinkie exclaimed. "How is it that you got roughed up by one big-bad wolf?"

Spike snorted. "Have you seen where we live, Pinkie? Fluttershy literally lives right next door to some of God's ugliest children. Super strength doesn't count for much here."

"How does a wolf even type on a computer?"

"Really carefully?"

"Ah don't get it," Applejack muttered. "If ya gave as good as you got, then why exactly are ya hidin' out here?"

Spike stared at her. "Wait, you thought that I won?"

"What d'ya suppose all the ruckus out there is about?"

Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo simply shrugged. The Crusaders were staring blankly out the side of their treehouse, transfixed by the yells and, to their surprise, howls emanating from the town.

"It's probably just another monster rampaging through town," Sweetie Belle muttered, resting her chin on outstretched arms.

All three Crusaders started when the door to their treehouse burst open, and a haggard-looking young man staggered through, hoodie cinched tight around his face and a tuft of green hair matted against his skin.

"Hide me." he begged.

"What the hell is wrong with you?!" Apple Bloom screeched. "You bustin' in here like that nearly gave me a heart attack!"

"Who did you manage to piss off this time?" Scootaloo pondered.

"Wanna make out?" Sweetie Belle chirped. When the other three glanced at her, she simply shrugged. "Priorities."

"Look," Spike said, panting, "I can explain how I pissed off the townspeople later, but I need to lay low for a while. Can you guys help me out?"

Apple Bloom crossed her arms stubbornly. "Why come here? Isn't there anyone else dumb enough to let you hole up with them?"

Spike frowned. "Well, there's not exactly a lot of options for me here, what with the mob and all."

Scootaloo started, eyes wide. "What—"

But Spike continued. "Besides, I already tried Zecora's, but that didn't end well."

Spike dashed through the Everfree Forest, glad for the momentary silence. Few members of the mob were willing to follow him into the dreaded home of so many of nature's abominations. They were more than content, to his displeasure, to wait him out.

The green-haired youth sighed. His dealings with the citizens were postponed for now, yes, but he had only traded one trouble for another. Newfound strength or not, the Everfree Forest was still home to countless perils.

His only hope lay with Zecora.

Spike sighed in relief when he laid eyes upon the familiar hut. He bent over, panting—for he hadn't rested since he started running—then knocked on the door and awaited her response.

Sure enough, the dark-skinned alchemist answered the door in a matter of moments. A smile graced her lips as she recognized his familiar face, one that she hadn't seen in a matter of years.

"Ah, a friendly visage graces my eyes! Tell me, what occasion warrants this surprise?" She stepped aside from the doorway to allow him into her humble dwelling.

Spike smiled. "It's great to see you, Zecora." He frowned. "I'm sorry to ask a favor the first time I see you after so long, but is it okay if I hang out here for a few hours? Things are pretty heated back in town."

The enchantress's eyes narrowed appreciatively, tracing mildly up and down his physique, concealed as it was. "But of course, you may spend as long as you need. If there are any complaints, you shall not hear them from me."

Spike's smile returned bigger than before. "You're a lifesaver, Zecora." He paused as something caught his eye. "What's that over there?

Zecora followed his gaze, 'ah'ing when she met the object of inquiry. "Ah, it is a simple mixture I made, containing hayseed and orange. More obscure ingredients are employed also, but—"

Zecora paused, a look of horror dawning on her face. Then, her mouth twisted into a hard, cruel line.

"Get the fuck out of my house."

"And that was the end of that," Spike muttered.

Apple Bloom huffed. "Ah still don't see why we should help you. You aren't exactly at the top of my 'favorite people' list, at the moment."

Spike had to resist rolling his eyes. "Cut me some slack, okay? We were literally caught with our pants down, and Applejack was on the warpath." He slumped to the floor of the treehouse, rubbing his temples.

Scootaloo stared at him indignantly, crossing her arms over her orange tank top jersey. "Are you serious? Apple Bloom gets some stank on the hang down, but you cut me off? I thought we were friends!"

"Not best friends," the teen on the floor grumbled.

Sweetie Belle looked close to tears as she looked to her red-haired friend. "You made nookie?"

The young farmer shifted awkwardly in her pale yellow flannel shirt, looking anywhere but at Sweetie Belle. "It doesn't even count, we didn't get to—"

"You promised!" Sweetie Belle screeched, throwing her hands out to the side.

Spike's eyes widened in alarm. "Wait, promised what?" He scrambled to his feet, quickly reevaluating his options.

Sweetie Belle sniffed, wiping her eyes with her arm. "The girls and I promised each other that we'd all have our first times together." She looked at Apple Bloom witheringly. "It was supposed to be a mind-blowing orgy, but someone didn't want to wait."

Spike raised an eyebrow at her statement. "Why on Earth would you want to do that? Losing your virginity is supposed to be private and sentimental."

Scootaloo snorted. "Like that stopped you."

Spike winced.

"And besides," Sweetie Belle continued, "they say you always remember your first times, and who they were with. Apple Bloom and Scootaloo are my best friends! Who else would I want to become a woman with?"

Spike opened his mouth to reply, but stopped. Sure, he thought, I remember Lyra and Bon Bon, but I didn't exactly know them either. He rubbed his hair back with his palm, loosening his hoodie. When's the last time I even talked to them?

He was absorbed enough in his thoughts to start when Scootaloo snapped her fingers directly in front of his face.

"Snap out of it, Princess." she said, frowning. "We're not done with you just yet."

His eyes lost their unfocused glazed, then narrowed back into a sour stare. "Well? My fate is in your hands, Crusaders," he said mockingly.

"I'm gonna be straight with you."

Spike looked up, and Sweetie Belle and Apple Bloom both stopped their petty squabbles.

Scootaloo's face was serious; she had the air of someone who needed to say something, but was having trouble putting it into words. She rubbed her palms together.

"I appreciated our little... heart-to-heart the other night." She combed her hair back, puffing her cheeks out in exasperation. "I think you really needed to let go of some stuff, and Celestia knows its been a while since a guy has even looked at me."

Scootaloo leaned back on the wall next to Spike, cracking her fingers together and tapping her sneakers—a show of habit, Spike figured.

"But all that aside," she continued, as her voice gained a flinty edge, "I think you've been looking at this the wrong way." The purple-haired girl glanced down at the man next to her. "You are a strong person, Spike, I know you are. We know you are," she said, nodding to her two best friends. "But between you and me, you aren't going to make people feel better just by making them feel better, get me?"

Spike nodded slowly, but said nothing.

"From what I understand, Twilight's acting weird—weirder than usual, anyway, Rainbow Dash is on a guilt-trip, and Apple Bloom isn't exactly glad to see you right now."

"Ah didn't say that." the girl interjected.

"Well you didn't have to, now did you?" Scootaloo replied.

Apple Bloom glared daggers at her friend, but remained silent.

"Getting back on topic," Scootaloo said, nestling down next to her silent friend, "and I know I'm the least qualified person to talk to you like this, but someone has to." She rested a hand on his shoulder. "Being handsome, or chivalrous, or kind is great and all, but that's nothing new for you." She smiled a half-smile at him. "Having a bomb-ass dick doesn't hurt either—"

Sweetie Belle sucked in her breath. "You saw his—"

"-but I don't think just knowing how to please a woman is enough. It's not enough to just have amazing sex with whoever you want either, even if you're a good person on the inside and out. Maybe for a boy, but it's not enough for a man."

Scootaloo was staring him dead in the face. "Are you the same boy as four years ago, Spike?"

He met her stare with resolve that he was just now starting to feel. "I'm not."

"Are you a man?"

"I am!" he said, fists clenched.

"Then don't just sit on your ass and wait for things to change for the better!" Scootaloo shot to her feet, adrenaline racing to her head and fueling her words. "Stand up and kill the whiny little bitch in yourself! Stand up and be a man!"

"I will!" he yelled, rising to his feet in a feverish fit of emotion.

Scootaloo looked up at him, beaming. "Now start with me!" she yelled, to the shock of her two friends who, until that moment, had been transfixed by her awe-inspiring speech.

"I WI—wait, what?" Spike looked at her incredulously. "You can't be serious."

"I'm entirely serious!" she said, still smiling. "I said I would be straight with you, so I am." Her tone turned slightly more serious as she stepped around the room of the treehouse. "We've known each other since we were kids, yeah?"

Spike nodded, though his face was marred by skepticism.

"We played together, we did dumb shit together," she shrugged. "We kind of grew up together, if you squint."

Apple Bloom simply rolled her eyes.

"And I wasn't just spouting crap back there, either." Scootaloo rolled on the balls of her feet, hands in her pockets. "We have to stop being kids someday; on the outside, at least." Now she was the one avoiding eye contact. "I...always thought you were handsome. Even when we were kids."

Spike's eyes widened, and he uncrossed his arms. "Really?"

Scootaloo nodded. "And I don't want to pressure you or anything: I know...everyone else so far must have been at least a little pushy." She made a point of darting her eyes at Apple Bloom, who simply looked in another direction. "And I know Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle will agree with me to let you lay low here for a while, regardless of what you say."

Sweetie Belle pouted, but said nothing.

His walls were dropping, they could tell, but he still hadn't agreed yet. "How is this any different from what happened with...everyone else?"

"It's symbolic, for one," Apple Bloom said, finally speaking up. "We're not women, like Twilight," she seemed to spit. "Once we do this, there's no going back to being little girls."

Crusading for orgasms? cried out Spike's inner smartass, a comment he wisely kept to himself.

"So don't feel...obligated, or anything, I guess," Scootaloo said, finally raising her eyes to meet his, "but it would mean the world to us," she swallowed, "to me."

Sweetie Belle remained quiet, but stared intensely at Spike, awaiting his answer.

The green-haired young man was silent for a few seconds more, then smiled weakly. "I guess...but we'll have to be quiet."

Sweetie Belle let out a long-held sigh, and started unbuttoning her blouse.

"Finally. We've only been waiting, like, four months now."

Spike tried not to let it go to his head when the Crusaders sighed at the sight of his stomach.

Really, he did.

"Who's first?" he asked. He was barely able to get the words out of his mouth before Sweetie Belle tackled his legs, knocking him back onto his behind. When he looked up, her fingers were already reaching for his zipper.

"No, that's fine, Sweetie Belle." he said sardonically. "Just go straight for the gold. Guys don't need foreplay, after all."

"I just wanna see it!" she squealed. Spike noted that her voice still cracked, something he found oddly comforting.

"Goodness gracious, Sweetie Belle, pull yourself together!" Apple Bloom growled. Her hands pried the other girl's invasive fingers away from Spike's pants. "There's an order to these things!"

"What?" Sweetie Belle said impatiently. "Why can't we just get to the good part?"

Apple Bloom sighed, running a hand over her face. "Because, like I said, there's an order to how you do these things."

Sweetie Belle huffed. "You would know," she muttered under her breath.

"Look here," she said, using her familiar authoritative voice, "Spike's more than just a dick and some muscles, right? Mostly, anyway." She ignored his glare, on principle.

"Yeah, so what?" Sweetie Belle chirped, still impatient.

"So," Scootaloo said, joining in, "it's an outright crime just to let the rest of his body go to waste." She pushed the other girl out of the way, despite her protests. "Besides, it's my turn anyway."

"But—"

"My kickass speech, my turn." She leaned forward eagerly, straddling Spike's lap. She groaned as his fingers traced their way around the bare skin of her hips. "Rough hands," she muttered distractedly.

"Dragon."

His lips moved to Scootaloo's neck, kissing vigorously at her collarbone. Her groaning intensified, and her grip instinctively tightened around Spike's chest. "Harder," she ordered, clutching at his hair.

Spike complied, using one hand to caress her thigh, the other to knead the modest flesh just beneath her sports bra. Slowly, gently, he bent over to lower Scootaloo onto her back, paying her body its due respects all the while. He loomed over his partner, whose arms wrapped insistently around his neck.

Without warning, Spike's mouth darted to meet hers, drawing the two into a long, deep kiss. One swift movement from Spike's hand later, and her shirt and bra passed over her hands, dropping the smaller girl onto the floor.

"Sorry," Spike murmured, closing the distance between the two. Her black shorts and sneakers her only remaining clothing, Scootaloo shivered, staring wide-eyed at her partner with terrible anticipation. Her body glistened with the beginnings of a hot sweat, and tensed under the unabashed gaze of her friend. The pale tan of her body accentuated her physique in all the usual places, Spike noticed, except for the tan lines where her bra would be.

She had the body of an athlete, that much he could tell. The makings of abs, and a distinct 'v' forming near her hips, all but concealed by her shorts. Her breasts were practically nonexistent, but that had never been much of a priority for him.

"So are we going to do it, or what?" Scootaloo said, growing impatient, despite her heavy breathing. "What are you doing right now anyway?"

Spike grinned, his mischievous side once again rising to the surface. "Aggressive foreplay."

He pinned Scootaloo's arms above her head, grinding his hips into hers, their bare chests gliding across each other. Scootaloo squealed—squealed?—into his mouth, giddy in regard to his forwardness.

They broke apart for air, and Spike noticed that her lips had blushed red from their kissing.

Eyes lidded, he placed two of his fingers before her lips. Scootaloo hesitated for a moment, uncomprehending, before slowly taking them into her mouth. After the passing of a few moments, and after stealing another kiss to the corner of her mouth—"Mmh!"—he removed them, then positioned his fingers above her shorts, snaking them through the bundle of black denim and into her—

"MMH!" Scootaloo yelled into his mouth loud enough for his teeth to rattle. As soon as his fingers hit their mark, Scootaloo's back arched, eyes shut in surprise. Her hips writhed around his hand, clenching and unclenching at random. She continued moaning helplessly, back arching on instinct and toes curling inside of her shoes.

His fingers caressed her sensitive flesh obsessively, massaging her labia and tracing the insides of her thighs. His thumb rested just above, flicking across her clit, guided by her reactions.

Scootaloo's eyes rolled backwards, her body still in shock at being finally, finally being touched for the very first time. Her free hand clawed at the floor of the treehouse while Scootaloo herself was too busy to even understand all the things being done to her.

Never one to miss an opportunity to tease a friend, Spike pressed even further into Scootaloo's mouth, and, once making sure of the fact that her eyes were closed, looked up at Sweetie Belle.

She was panting, face red with embarrassment from seeing her friend in such a state, as well as no small part of impatience. She gasped silently when Spike looked directly up at her, flinching when the bastard had the nerve to wink at her.

At the pressure on his chest, Spike glanced down. Scootaloo, face red and eyes half-lidded, pushed against his heaving muscles. Her legs, wrapped around his waist, went slack.

"Take it out," she breathed.

Spike blinked. "Once I put it in—"

"It'll hurt, I know." Scootaloo interjected.

Still, he hesitated. "Scootaloo..."

"Sometime today, please!" Sweetie Belle yelled, clutching the fringes of her dress.

Spike rolled his eyes as he unzipped his jeans. "So much for the usual pomp and circumstance," he muttered.

Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo both stared, wide-eyed at the unveiling of his member.

Apple Bloom wasn't as impressed.

"Ah distinctly remember you tellin' Applejack that it was eleven inches." She smirked. "What, did you fall on it?"

*whap*

Apple Bloom twitched, rubbing the stinging mark on her cheek. "What just happened?"

"Fun fact," Spike said, ignoring Scootaloo's dinner plate-sized eyes. "Transmogrification is a form of magic."

Apple Bloom stared at him, bewildered. "But you're a cripple!"

Spike shrugged. "Dragon magic, yeah. But I picked up a few cantrips here and there."

"So you slapped me with your penis?" she said, incredulously.

"But eleven is a bit...unwieldy," he said, grimacing. "Depending on the person, I can change my size. And seeing as how I actually like Scootaloo and don't want to break her in half..." he let the statement hang in the air.

"How the hell is that fair?" Sweetie Belle barked. "It took me years to lift a stupid pencil with my mind!"

Spike shrugged. "I'm still a beginner, but dragons are usually more powerful than humans. I guess you could say that body alterations come to us easier than others," he said, casting his memory back to one of his more terrifying birthdays. "Besides, it's too draining to be used practically."

Scootaloo did little to hide her boredom. her head resting on her upraised fist. "So, are we fucking, or what? 'Cause we have things to do today, believe it or not."

Spike reached for her shorts, yanked them below her ankles, and tossed them over his head. Scootaloo started to kick off her shoes, but Spike stopped her. "Keep them on."

Slowly, he lowered himself to align with her slit, bracing himself against the floor with one arm. He twitched when he found her opening, but managed to keep himself from plunging into her right away. A slight push forward with his hips was all it took to slip his head inside of her.

Slowly...

Slowly...

Scootaloo started when his dick finally came to a stop, halted by the thin wall of flesh. In an uncharacteristic show of assertiveness, she thrust her hips upward before she had time to reconsider. Her legs constricted around Spike's waist, impaling her even deeper on his member.

Spike shuddered, giving himself time to adjust to the tightness of his friend. Considering the fact that Scootaloo was the smallest of any woman he'd been with, and a virgin as well, he figured that he shouldn't have been surprised. Even so...

"Why...aren't you...moving?" Scootaloo managed to say between gasps of air. Her normally stiff purple hair clung matted to her forehead, and her muscles spasmed irregularly at the unfamiliar intruder resting at her loins.

Spike gritted his teeth, before pulling out of her as carefully as he could, much to his partner's dismay. "Get on top of me," he said before she protest. "So I don't hurt you," he clarified.

Swiftly, she got out from under him, just as Spike turned to rest on his back. He heard a rustling of cloth, and when Scootaloo came back into his vision, she came wearing his hoodie. The dark cloth went to her narrow hips, covering her like a robe, save for a lone trace of skin that extended to her burgeoning womanhood. The sight of his friend in his clothes inspired a familiar bout of possessiveness in Spike.

It must have shown on his face. Scootaloo smirked as she knelt to straddle his waist. "That's better." Her hands moved to grasp at his shoulders, and she shuddered as she felt his strong grasp on her bare hips. His member slipped inside of her again, this time with less hesitation. Scootaloo groaned, but waited for the movement to stop.

Only when he had bottomed out, his head pressed messily against her cervix, did Scootaloo start to move. Her hips lifted, reluctantly emptying itself out, before swallowing up her partner's manhood again. Despite the initial sharp pains that accompanied her penetration, Scootaloo continued to work her hips and down, relishing the feeling of being stretched. A powerful heat moved in her womb, and before long, a horribly lewd thwap accompanied their movements, followed by soft grunts on Scootaloo's part.

Gradually, their pace increased until the purple-haired girl was falling onto Spike's member with speed sufficient enough to nearly wound her. Her moans grew with the frequency of their thrusts, aided by the unrelenting grasp of her ass by her partner's sinfully coarse hands. She gasped endlessly, panting out his name whenever she could remember to speak. Spike's intense but steady bucking into her left her lean ass red from the constant attention. With each joining of their hips, it became harder to separate; the ferocity with which she gripped him was almost painful, to Spike's delight.

Scootaloo was nigh-on yelling now, eking out curses as her orgasm slowly began to build in the bottom of her stomach. The colossal feeling welled inside of her like a wave, slackening her movements with its rapidly rising pressure, until Spike was the sole one moving. He felt the familiar clenching of his balls, along with the heat gathering in the center of his body, but he banished it to the back of his mind, determined to put it off for as long as possible.

The young athlete on top of him was close, he could tell; her small, lithe body was locking up, and all she was able to do was sigh into Spike's ear, arms clenched on top of his chest and legs pinching his waist like a vice.

At long last, her orgasm hit, slamming into her loins and setting her body on fire. Scootaloo's small frame convulsed on top of Spike as her lips clenched almost frantically at his member. She cried out, curling into a ball on top of Spike as something like electricity spread throughout her. It took all of his determination and a fair bit of his stubbornness to not finish inside of her; he still had two Crusaders to go, and he had no intention of stopping now.

The heat in Scootaloo persisted for a few long moments, curling in her toes and throbbing in her womanhood, for moments more. Eventually, the fire left her, and she collapsed on top of Spike in a tangle of sweaty limbs. A natural post-intercourse glow settled about her as she managed to slide off to the side of her partner, breathing heavily to catch her breathe.

An indulgent grin was on her face as her chest heaved. "So...that's what that feels like..." she said. "I think I can trade walking every now and then for one of those."

Spike laughed, barely sweating compared to his friend, but said nothing.

Scootaloo's breathing settled, and after a while, she rolled over, draping her bare leg over his waist. "You didn't finish."

The green-haired young man shook his head. "No, I didn't. I think that right now, it's better to build up so that I can keep—"

"I want one of those!" Sweetie Belle yelled, plomping down on Spike's chest and smooshing Scootaloo's face away.

"Give me a few—" Spike said, before being interrupted with an energetic face positioned directly in front of his.

"ROUND TWO ROUND TWO ROUND TWO!" she yelled, ripping off her blouse to reveal a white satin camisole.

Spike's eyes widened, until he settled with a sigh. "Round two..."

She cheered.

The Ones Who Try Your Patience

Spike trudged along the gravel path, the town's lights against his back. A short exhale of breath turned into a small cloud of vapor as he exhaled.

He frowned.

A month or so ago, doing so would've caused a veritable cloud of steam in the chilling autumn air, but no more. The steam was just as likely to appear as the big red-haired asshole that was responsible for his current mess.

Great, he grumbled, tunneling his fists into his leather jacket, now I'm thinking about raging hemorrhoids.

More annoyed than when he left that evening, he continued his trek toward the quarries.

"Spike?" Twilight called out, stepping with caution on her way up the stairs. She hadn't heard from him since he had gotten back that afternoon, and that had been several hours ago. It wasn't like him to keep quiet for so long.

For all you know, he's a completely different person these days, the niggling little voice in her head said, and for once, she briefly entertained it before banishing it to the back of her mind.

Besides, she couldn't exactly blame him. Despite Applejack's best intentions, her objections fell flat when considering her reaction to some of Spike's more...personal activities. While Twilight herself tried not to think about it in depth—Spike was his own person, and her own hands weren't exactly clean—it was difficult to ignore how invested Applejack had been in her former charge.

She's jealous, she thought, arriving at the door, hand poised to knock. However, as soon the thought arrived, she questioned it. Applejack wasn't the type to show jealousy, and even though her sister was involved, that seemed more salt in the wound than a contributing factor to her friend's mood.

Twilight knew the two of them would need to talk soon, especially considering their "rendezvous" a matter of weeks ago. The Twilight in her that bordered on neurotic demanded that she'd best get her own house in order—so to speak—but she stubbornly decided that some things had to take precedence.

She made to rap on the door, but to her surprise, it swung free, seemingly of its own volition. "Spike-" she started to say. but the words died in her mouth, her mind warping to a heap of burning coals.

"What are you doing here," she demanded, suddenly torn between quavering and fuming.

"Nice place you got here," Garble mumbled, chewing noisily on a rectangular sapphire. He swallowed, leaning to the wall with arms crossed and eyes narrowed to slits. "Where's the shortstack?"

The cast iron door held an ominous presence, tempered only by an assortment of colorful jewels adorning the borders, and despite his preoccupation with his mission, Spike likened the quarry's doorway to the ambiance of prayers in a graveyard.

He shook himself, raising a fist and knocking hard on the iron gate. The Princess hadn't sent him here for sentiments.

The door let out an uncharacteristic peal, after which there was a stale silence. Still, even as the ringing sensations left his ears, he could hear the heavy clumping of boots approaching.

A yanking of bolts, and schink! the slit in the door opened, yellow canine eyes cutting at him. "Who are you?" it demanded in a low, gruff voice.

"Spike, fresh out of Canterlot," he answered, hand slipping to his coat pocket and producing a flawless diamond. "Heard you boys were running a game tonight."

"So there's a fire in the south," Garble garbled, his mouth full of sapphire shards. "A volcano erupted." He paced to and fro in the upstairs loft of Twilight's home, where the latter was an unwilling audience. "Only it wasn't a volcano."

He stopped in front of her, serving up one hell of a penetrating glare.

"I don't see what this has to do with me," she said defiantly.

Twilight Sparkle had faced down plenty of demonic creatures in her day, from hydras to three-headed guardians of Tartarus. She wasn't going to be intimidated by some second-rate thug, penetrating stare and fire-breath be damned.

His girlfriend, on the other hand, was a different story.

"She's got spunk," the white-haired harpy crooned, running her hair through a nervous Twilight's bangs. "We should let her run with us."

Before Twilight could begin her very heavy rant of opinion sharing, Garble waved his girlfriend off, snorting. "Stop changing the subject. And besides, a nerd like that would ruin our image."

"Excuse you," Twilight protested, squirming away from Gilda, which was difficult considering that the other girl had her legs wrapped around her waist.

Garble simply ignored her, continuing to pace. "So me and G go to check it out, since, you know, danger and shit. We get there, fucking fire everywhere, mountain's crumbling to pieces, trees and small animals are scorched to shit." He turned, glancing at Gilda, saying, "And because someone was fucking careless, her engagement ring drops in the center of the fucking mountain."

"Oh, again with the freaking ring!" she barked, momentarily forgetting to toy with her prisoner. "I said I was sorry already!" She jerked her hand at him in irritation. "And in case you haven't noticed, these things aren't exactly hard to come by. You can find freaking sapphires on the way to take a piss in the woods!"

"Can we skip your relationship problems and get to the reason why you broke into my house?"

"Getting to it. Geez, get your dick out of the zipper." Garble paid no mind to her indignant squawk, instead saying, "So I behave like the responsible fiance and go get the ring at the bottom of the dark, dreary chasm. But I'm not alone."

At this, Twilight slowed her fidgeting, ignoring Gilda's trailing fingernails on her collarbone. "So? What was down there?"

Garble's frown was that of a flat, unwavering line. "A demon," he answered, uncaring of Twilight's skeptical expression. "But not just any demon, oh no. I get down there, it's a flaming, shrieking little shit that's twice my size and half as mean. I get down there, and I see a Balrog."

"Rover!" Spike cried out with fake enthusiasm, arms extended. "How's it going, buddy? Jeez, what's it been, seven, eight years?"

"Who the hell are you?" The gray-skinned miner grumbled, narrow green eyes filled with suspicion. He and the rest of the Diamond Dogs, as well of a few of their ever-present guards, were clustered around a small, dirty poker table. Their clothes were baggy and colored with dust; the young drake had to resist the urge to wrinkle his nose or gag.

"It's me, you big lug! Spike!" he exclaimed, marching up to the table and clapping the uncomfortable older man on the shoulder. He grinned, all hints of resentment well-hidden. "I'm Rarity's friend." Here the rest of the Diamond Dogs went still, eyes widening in shock and exasperation, "You remember? The little kid you made a clown of before that ugly little incident happened?"

Rover laughed nervously, "Is that so?" His eyes darted meaningfully to the guards, whose hands went for their spears, leaning against the rickety old table. "How is Miss Rarity doing these days? We never talk."

Spike waved his question off, the now-unnerving grin still present. "Ah, that's neither here nor there." He hoisted his diamond into plain view, catching the light just so. The gleaming treasure momentarily captured the attention of the entire table. "You boys got room for one more?"

Rover twitched, eyes moving across the table. The shortest of his group, Spot, was seated directly beside Spike, out of his view. The smaller man shook his head vehemently, crossing both hands over his neck rapidly in a sign of protest.

The Diamond Dog blinked almost innocently, a sign of silent agreement, before his eyes returned to Spike. "Sorry, friend. Full table."

Spike frowned, the diamond dropping to the table. Finally, the men around the table seemed to think, sighing with their shoulders. He may have been young, but a dragon-man smiling was never a pleasant sight.

"That's a shame," Spike said, rubbing his jaw with one hand.

"Maybe next week, friend?" Spot spoke up from behind Spike. The other Diamond Dogs nodded in complete agreement.

Next week, in another quarry, they all silently agreed.

Spike made as if he didn't even hear the suggestion. "How about we make a trade instead?"

The Dogs stalled, wondering what he would ask for. Finally, Rover found his voice. "What exactly are you looking for, friend of Rarity?" he asked, his suspicion beginning to override his caution. Diamonds were valuable, sure, but there were some gems not even a Diamond Dog would trade for-

"A little birdy told me you had a fire ruby." Spike answered jovially, sitting on the edge of the table, tossing the diamond carelessly from hand to hand.

"As you well know," Princess Luna dictated from memory, "all gems have varying magical capabilities. Given the commonality of most precious stones, however, the majority of them share the same characteristics."

The Princess had recovered from her emotional bout, which Spike had done well not to touch upon. He humored his mentor by listening to her monologue, though it was nothing they hadn't already covered in his lessons.

"Spike," she commanded, drawing him to full attention, "what is Sturgeon's Law?"

"'Nothing is always absolutely so,'" he recited near-robotically, to the pleasure of his Princess.

"Correct," Luna said, pacing in the confines of Spike's mind, pale skin flashing from under her nightwear with every step. "Though the adage itself is usually used in reference to literature, it holds reason in this particular case as well." She turned, arms uncrossing to summon images of precious stones. "Almost predictably so, one can be assured that the most potent magical objects are the ones that are the most rare. The remainder of the low potency materials are unimpressive in comparison, both in terms of arcane functionality as well as financial value. However, the latter is not what we are concerned with." She nodded to him, signalling for him to take over in their review.

"Amethyst, kunzite, and baby blue sapphire are the ideal stones used for harmonic magic," he said, filing away Luna's smile and reminding himself to be pleased with himself later, "while spinel, garnet, and rubies are ideal for elemental spells."

"And tourmaline?" she pressed.

His mind raced for half a second, before he answered, "Tourmaline is a useful all-purpose, semi-precious gem, that can be adapted as a support, but should be used sparingly because of its weak magical composition."

"Very good, Spike," she said, face nearly absent of the resentment and guilt that had been present all but a few minutes ago. "Now, which are more valuable, diamonds or rubies?"

Spike frowned; her questions weren't very indicative of where the conversation was going. "Rubies. They're rarer, better suited to combat spells. and less common than diamonds."

"Correct again," she said, resuming her pacing. "While diamonds are unquestionably the more sought-after, at least by the public, their uses are similar to that of tourmaline." One teal eye met emerald as she rounded on him. "It is an all-purpose stone, very useful for an Arch Mage to have as a magical conductor." She smiled inwardly as an inkling of her implications seemed to dawn on his face, and she allowed the corners of her cheeks to curl slightly.

"However," she said, and here he was sober again, "given that your own magical prowess isn't your greatest asset, it would be an ill match." She could see his confusion mounting, so she amended her statement. "An ordinary spellcaster would benefit from an all-purpose jewel, Twilight or myself especially, given our versatility with magic. However, a concentration in a certain school does not lend itself to versatility." Her eyebrows furrowed. "What would be best suited for a Firedrake?"

Spike's eyes widened at the implications, his mouth slightly ajar. "A ruby," he breathed.

"A fire ruby," she corrected, and she stopped her pacing. "And I know just where you can find one."

Twilight's eyes shrunk to pinpricks, her stomach churning into a hold, hard pit. "You're lying," she breathed, squirming away from the white-haired vixen behind her. "You wouldn't be here if that was true, you have to be lying," she repeated. "No one's that-"

"Powerful?" he finished. The dead-certainty on his face killed any sense of doubt that Twilight held.

Garble crossed his arms. "Don't get me wrong, now. I've heard the stories, I know how strong those fuckers can get." He raised a finger in clarification. "But this wasn't some god-killing abomination. Not yet, anyway." He sat down, relaxing into an armchair opposite of Twilight. "It was smaller than they're made out to be. Red-hot and feral, but not much bigger than this room," he said, drumming his fingers on the near-cracked leather armrest.

Twilight rolled her eyes, though privately relieved. "Oh, that's just great, then. The psychopathic arsonist also happens to be a murderer."

Garble's lips twitched, his crooked smile showcasing a single gleaming fang. "Don't get all self-righteous with me, Stripes. That thing was still a monster, and bigger than a bus." He leaned out of his seat, rubbing two absurdly sharp nails together, forming sparks. Twilight jumped as one leapt to the floor, near her feet. "The way I see it, I was doing your little boyfriend a favor. Saved him from cleaning up his own mess."

Twilight went stiff. "He's not my boyfriend. I raised Spike, that's all."

Gilda snorted. "I sure hope not. He was all over Dash last time I saw him." She pinched Twilight on the side of her jaw. "Guess that means he just wasn't raised right."

The purple-haired sorceress bristled, unaware of Garble's dawning realization. "You raised him?" he asked, quietly. At Twilight's acidic look, he returned it with gusto. "You have his scent in you."

A jolt went through her system, and she shifted her eyes, avoiding meeting his. "We live together, genius. it's only natural you'd pick up on that."

But the crimson-haired criminal only leaned further in his seat, nails driven through wood like knives through dirt. "His scent is mingled with yours, that fucking fuck." Garble's eyes were venomous now, and Twilight shrunk back from his gaze. The heat escaping from his flickering maw was almost searing. "No wonder that little cum burper thinks he's hot shit, he's got people like you fucking with his head."

"Now wait just a minute—" Twilight started, anger rising.

"You humans are a lot of fucking things," he spat, "but you sure as hell aren't picky."

Gilda stopped playing with Twilight's hair, frowning. "That's not fair, G."

"The truth usually isn't," he snarled, now standing. His figure was framed by the shallow moonlight, casting a menacing shadow on his face. Only his orange eyes, narrowed to slits, were visible. "I can't believe it; I'm actually feeling sorry for the little prick. His dad fuck him too?"

"Fuck you!" Twilight roared, to the surprise of the other two. She leaped from the bed, breaking Gilda's grasp. She shoved a crackling purple finger into her assailant's face, matched only in intensity by the glaring heat stretching forth from her blazing white eyes. "I have been very patient with you, a couple of second-rate criminals who broke into my house, insulted my friend, and had the gall to talk down to me in MY town!"

Garble flinched, shifting into reverse from the now apparently-murderous magician, who was painting the formerly dark library loft pale purple with her aura. Gilda gaped from the other side of the room, now shaking from the intensity of the magic. The air hummed with it, smelling heavily of ozone and metal. Small objects around them started to roll towards her, building into a pile at her feet.

"Holy shit, dude," Gilda said, shrinking back on the bed. "I think you broke her." Garble only swallowed.

"You have no idea what either of us have been through, or who we are!" she bellowed, her face turning hateful.

And for a moment, Garble managed to swallow his fear, and roar over the growing noise, "You're scum, both of you!"

At the narrowing of her eyes, and the nearing silence, he could tell that was the last straw.

He grabbed Gilda by the wrist, and jumped through the window, just before it exploded.

"Now, I know what you're thinking," Spike said, smiling in spite of the tense faces that surrounded him. "'Dragon wants a pretty little bauble,'' right?"

The silence was glaring, but telling.

"Wrong," Spike answered for them. "Long story short, it's needed to help bring a very bad man to justice. So really," he swept his arm to all of them, "it's in your best interest to cooperate."

"Well, ah, you see, friend," Rover started, shaking as he spoke, "even if we did have a fire ruby in our possession, a dragon such as yourself would understand its immense value." He swallowed. "As it stands, it is not up for trade."

Spike's smile slowly warped into a grimace. "That's a shame."

Rover seemed to regain some of his confidence, his grimy hands absently shuffling cards around. "Indeed, friend, a shame! But, ah, it appears even dragons have to go without what they want sometimes, yes?" The rest of the Diamond Dogs chuckled nervously in agreement. Spot wiped his brow, and Fido, the largest of the group, silently sheathed a wicked looking hunting knife, careful to hide it under the shadows of the poker table.

"Oh," Spike said, still grimacing, "I'm getting what I want. I just don't like playing the bad man."

The table went quiet again, save for the nigh-undetectable rasp of metal. "Surely you're joking!" Spot barked, before the others could restrain him. "Surely you wouldn't result to such petty thievery! Your friend Miss Rarity would hardly approve of—"

"Except," Spike interrupted, picking his teeth with a strange piece of metal, "Rarity doesn't know I'm here." He beamed. "It's Guy's Night, after all."

Fido started, realizing that his knife had suddenly lost most of its weight. "How-"

Rover's eyes widened to dinner plates, watching open-mouthed as Spike visibly slipped the blade into his mouth. A strange series of clacks filled the small room. "Strike one, fellas," Spike mumbled, before swallowing audibly.

Spot was shaking at this point, his rotten wooden chair shaking beneath him. "What are you going to do if we refuse?"

"Well, that's anyone's guess." Spike said, going back to rolling his diamond around. "But personally, I don't like your chances."

One of the guards scoffed, saying, "He's just a runt. A fast one, I'll give him that, but—"

"Do you know what temperature diamond melts at?" Spike interrupted, his palms pressed together.

The guard ceased his outburst, staring at Spike malevolently from under the brim of his helmet.

"Technically," the young man continued, "it's somewhere upward of 6000 degrees Fahreinheit." Spike's face showed fascination, though the slight twitch of the corner of his mouth didn't seem to agree. He continued; "Fun fact, boys: that's around four times hotter than the hottest lava ever recorded, but you get the point."

"Why are you saying this," the guard grumbled. It was a demand, rather than a question.

"Because," Spike said, slowly, as he brought his hand apart, "in all of my studies, I've found that dragons can withstand extreme heat. But I couldn't find anything that suggested the same about Diamond Dogs."

He parted his hands, revealing a pile of fine pebbles where a large diamond had once been.

"I-if you harm us," Rover yelped, throwing his arms in front of his face, "you will undoubtedly be imprisoned for a very long time!"

Spike broke into a raucous fit of laughter, shoulders heaving from Rover's accusation. His face glowed red with heat and humor.

Composing himself momentarily, Spike replied, jauntily, "Believe me, I've got more time than I know what to do with." He tilted his hand to the side, letting the crushed diamonds fall to the table. "Strike two. I'd choose my next words carefully, if I were you."

His turned to Rover, and the shivering vagabond nearly broke into a seizure. Gone was any trace of humanity in his eyes: the young man's pupils had narrowed to slits, like those of a pale specter, or a python.

The ragged Diamond Dog had had enough. Surreptitiously moving his hand to the edge of the table, he swept the scattered diamonds into the young dragon's face, blinding him. Rover leapt from the table, grabbing a set of keys as he ran. Shouting over Spike's roars, he commanded the guards, "Kill him! Kill! Him!" He flung a column of chairs behind him to cover his tracks, even as the burly guards accosted Spike, forming a circle of muscle. "I'll be damned before any friend of that whore steals any of my bounty!"

As he reached the door to the next room, Rover flinched as he heard a mighty bellow, followed by a flying body colliding with the stone wall next to him. One of the guards slumped to the wall, unconscious, and the tall, lanky Diamond Dog made up his mind. He ran through to the next room, not bothering to lock the door behind him as he slammed it shut, even as the rest of the guards struggled to bring the raging drake to the cold floor.

"Strike three!" Spike yelled, grabbing another guard by the crook of his burly arm, but more were pouring on him by the second.

"Run all you want, Rover, I'll find you!"

"As you know, the position of Firedrake is equal in status to that of the Arch Mage, though their roles vary." Princess Luna was seated a few feet from Spike, but even her presence and the importance of what she was saying was barely enough to keep him awake. "Though the Arch Mage has various political duties, and is responsible for both researching magic as well as arranging for the laws of arcane research and the like, their role has never been that of combat."

Spike mumbled something in the affirmative, but Luna paid him no mind.

"There have only been two other Firedrakes before you, the first achieving the position before my time. Their scarcity is largely in part due to our tenuous relationships with the dragons, who for the most part avoid other societies. Their purpose, however, has always been as a harbinger of imminent conflict. Merely one's presence was often enough to keep peace where blood would have been shed." She smacked him upside the head. "Pay attention."

"Sorry," he yawned.

"Through the use of gems as magical amplifier, many mages, human and dragon-men alike, were able to fend for themselves when the world was younger. Wyverns, Hydras, Minotaurs," she listed, "all these were held at bay by single magicians, where ten might work to accomplish the same. This was especially true for your predecessors; the ruby's effects as a magical tool not only augmented their fire's strength, but their abilities to work magic through it as well."

"But let me guess," Spike drawled, rubbing an eye, "the strain on their bodies were so great that they eventually died afterward."

The Princess was silent, long enough that Spike looked to her, worried. "That's what happened, right?" he prodded.

"No," she finally answered, not meeting his eyes. "The opposite happened. The magic in their bodies was so great, their lives were extended exponentially."

Spike's eyes widened, as he, now fully awake—so to speak—considered the implications. "How long did they live?"

Luna sighed, a great, weary breath as if she was under a heavy burden. "Some lived to be over two-hundred years old, others longer." She met Spike's horrified gaze. "As for the Firedrakes," she sighed again. "The second died of natural causes while I was banished, but the first is still alive."

Spike made to speak, but she covered his lips with a single pale digit. "Enough. I have given you enough to consider for one night; my offer will still stand in the morning, and I can only hope you will recognize its consequences." The Princess's face was solemn and unknowable. "I will make sure you endure no night terrors as of before, but the terrors that come by day are not mine to dismiss."

Spike trudged toward the cornered Diamond Dog, breathing heavily and drenched in sweat, but otherwise none the worse for wear.

He reached out, grabbed the terrified older man by the hem of his shirt, and dragged him into the storeroom where the horde of gems was kept, now minus one fire ruby.

"I hope that was worth the shit that's coming your way," he growled.

Spike slammed the door on the man, leaving him to be be rescued by his unconscious comrades.

He turned, and started making his way to the entrance of the cavern.

He had hoped to be back before Twilight had noticed his absence, but it was a vain wish. A pale dawn was already breaking.

The Ones Who Wish You The Best Part 1

Spike crept into the loft, feeling as though his practiced footsteps were muffled gunshots in the wake of the new morning's silence.

He winced. Twilight had never been a light sleeper, but neither was she a late one; an early-born fascination with their nation's monarch had contributed to her nasty habit of rising with the sun.

His eyes raced across the dimly lit room, searching for the familiar pale figure with the tangled hair that always greeted him.

Of course, he thought to himself, he found her resting on her—sometimes their—bed, not under the covers as he usually found her, but rather lying on her stomach, bare ankles crossed at the crook.

He swallowed. She would have heard him enter, probably, but Twilight had a bad aura rolling off of her in waves.

Spike hesitated to make his way up the loft stairs; she obviously had something on her mind, and knowing her, it would mean a long and nasty lecture for his troubles.

Still, he thought to himself. Twilight wasn't the sort to go to bed in a state of undress, but here she was, ashen legs on display and not a thing to be seen above the waist.

He squirmed in place. It had been a couple of days since their last—

He couldn't finish the thought. To finish it would be as bad as saying it out loud, and their vices be damned, he wouldn't be able to keep putting up with it if he had to think about what he—what they—had been doing nearly every night now.

Their...time together felt good. Great, some nights.

But then, some nights, he wondered if it would have been so bad if Luna hadn't woken him up.

Garble, he could handle. The unholy hordes of the Estrogen Brigade? With a few cuts and bruises, who was to say? Even the Balrog, a looming, brooding obstacle on the path to his future could be dealt with, he was sure.

No, the problem was with his roommate.

Ever since he'd left the hospital, Twilight had been different. She'd insist on sharing a bed at night, as well as waking up as the sun rose just so they could spend a couple of lazy hours together. Spooning.

Spike had to suppress a shudder. It was easy enough to pretend it was just a game when they were alone under the cover of night, but he was running out of ways to pretend they were having a running fling. One day she'd be off running secret errands for the Princess, the next she'd spend walking through town with him, fussing over his appearance and trying to work up the courage to hold his hand. Some days, like today, she'd be in a foul mood that would linger like a bad odor. Some days, like the day before last, and she'd be trying to suck his brains out through his dick for no apparent reason.

A sour memory ran through his mind of the last time Twilight tried too hard to be sexy—the last time he'd woken up with morning wood.

"Aww, looks like someone brought me breakfast in bed!"

Spike shuddered.

Where was Fancy Pants when you needed him? He was fairly sure that the two of them were due for a night of heavy drinking by now.

Spike knew he wasn't the brightest guy; his current situation was proof enough of that already. But he seemed to be tiring of his current situation much faster than Twilight was, and he didn't need to see the girl on the bed to know-

Spike halted, sniffing the air. Odd. Twilight usually smelled like paper and ozone, not...whatever that was.

Slowly, he made his way up the loft steps, freezing when he reached the top.

Twilight had apparently grown four inches. And lost most of her skin color. And had for some undetermined reason dyed her hair blue and bathed herself in sequins.

...

Shit, that's not Twilight, Spike realized, smacking himself on the forehead.

"Are you going to dawdle there all day?" Luna called, not moving from her place on Twilight's bed. "It isn't polite to keep your patron waiting."

Spike trudged up the steps, shedding his jacket and kneeling at the bed, next to Luna's face. She opened one piercing cyan eye. "How did it go?"

Spike plucked the fire ruby from his pocket, brandishing the flawless scarlet gem for his mentor to observe.

Luna's eye sparkled. "Excellent. I'll be sure to start with the enchantments later. Did you encounter any problems?"

"Nothing I couldn't handle," he answered. "Why are you naked?"

"I see," she said, frowning slightly as she turned onto her stomach, feet still in the air. "I suppose we never did touch on diplomacy."

"Yeah, I'm a menace," Spike said, frowning. "Why are you naked?"

"Half naked," she corrected. "I'm still wearing part of my undergarments. And I guess you just tend to have that effect on me," she said with a hint of dryness.

He glanced down. "I didn't know they sold floss in that color."

"Ha ha," she said dryly. "Back in my day, nudity was welcomed, not regarded as some ridiculous taboo. As to why, I've had a rough night." She tapped him under his chin with a pale finger. "Be a dear and rub my back? I could do with a bit of relaxation while you catch me up on current events."

Spike obliged, grumbling all the while as he climbed onto the bed and let his hands work on auto-pilot as he recounted the night's events to the Princess.

"So what's the story with you?" he asked, kneading her back with practiced hands. "I could feel your pissiness from downstairs."

Luna's face wrinkled. "My sister is being...difficult." She said difficult as if there were a dozen other words that she would have rather used.

Spike blinked. "About what?"

She rolled her eyes and looked over her shoulder. "About you, of course. She thinks I'm getting 'too invested' in you, and how I don't listen to her enough." Luna snorted. "As if she has any room to talk."

Spike rubbed a temple with his spare hand, swearing he could feel a headache coming on. "What exactly did she say?"

The Moon Princess sighed, propping herself up on one elbow and staring at nothing. "Something about 'the consequences of being selfish' and 'he could actually die', and other such things. I don't know, I sort of nodded off towards the end."

Spike smiled wryly. "She thinks you're being selfish with me?"

Luna groaned, waving her hands in exasperation. "Yes. She acts like I keep you around just because you're a pretty face." She glanced over her shoulder, returning his half-smile. "Appearances notwithstanding, I was always planning on offering you a promotion. Our, ah, current situation just forced my hand."

"And Celestia doesn't approve?"

"Celestia doesn't want anyone to share in our extended lifespans if she can help it." Luna rolled her eyes for the umpteenth time that morning. "She's of the opinion that immortality is a curse, and she thinks I'm being shortsighted and not thinking about what's best for you."

Spike frowned, moving his hands down to her waistline. "Then she suggested an alternative, I take it."

Luna tensed, and for a moment, she said nothing. Then, "My sister is not the only one with a bias." She absently tugged on her hair, not saying anything else.

Finally, Spike prodded her for more. "What exactly does that mean?"

The Princess rolled onto her back, so that Spike was straddling her legs. Her breasts were no doubt exposed, but neither person paid her state of undress any mind.

"It means," she started, almost cautious with her words, "that she would rather you forget about my offer, and let Twilight and the girls take care of our demon problem."

Spike stared at her, then deflated. "Oh."

Another mess I made for someone else to clean up, he thought bitterly to himself.

Luna coughed. "She...also think it would be best for you to remain here, rather than return to Canterlot."

At this suggestion, Spike sat bolt upright. "What?! Why?" His head was on fire, and it was impossible to breathe. If Celestia, Princess Celestia wanted him to stay here of all places, he was as good as stranded.

Luna winced, meshing her fingers in an awkward gesture. "I told her it was a bad idea, and that she was letting her emotions getting the better of her—"

"Why?" Spike insisted, wide-eyed and bewildered. He could feel it, he was on this side of freaking out, and he didn't know how to stop it. "Why does she want me gone? Why doesn't anyone want me?"

Luna's eyes widened in shock. She leaned up to touch his face. "No, dearest, that's not—" He jerked way, and she had to reach up to snare him by the shoulder. "Spike, listen to me." She rubbed his back until he stopped shivering, circling her arms around him until they were hugging. "Celestia just sees how much you've changed, that's all." But his lack of a response made clear what he thought of her coaxing. "It's true. She thinks that it would be best if you stayed here and returned to your old life, with Twilight."

Spike shuddered. "I don't want to go back."

Luna sighed, rubbing his sides. "I know, it can be hard going back to the way things were. It's just..." She hesitated, and Spike pulled away from her enough for her to know he was waiting on an answer.

"It's just—well, of course I would support you either way, but—the thing is—" She felt his eyes on her, and she had no choice but to cease her babbling as soon she met them.

It's not fair, she moaned to herself. He's still so young.

"What?" He asked quietly, and his gaze was equal parts curiosity and fear.

Luna breathed deeply, steeling herself mentally before she took the plunge. "My sister has noticed your growth," she repeated, to Spike's disdain, but she continued. "She...approves of what she's seen of you so far. She knows you've become strong and reliable, but she thinks you need...stability. That's why she wants you to settle here, with Twilight." She hugged her chest, stealing glances around the room, though her gaze always returned to him. "Now do you understand when I said she was biased?"

He stared at her, even as she stared at him. Finally, Spike stated, "I don't get it."

"My sister," she repeated slowly, as if explaining a difficult math problem to a delinquent, "would like you to forget your studies. And settle here. With Twilight."

Slowly, Spike's mouth opened in surprise as he caught on. "I...I don't—" His entire face turned into a frown, and Luna knew she wouldn't have to visit his dreams to know what he made of the suggestion.

"For what it's worth," she spoke up, albeit warily, gaining his attention, "we both managed to agree that you two would someday make spectacular parents."

Twilight sneezed.

She wiped the corner of her mouth with her wrist as she left the bakery section of the small store, patting down her black woven skirt with one hand while she carried her basket with the other.

She checked her grocery list for the umpteenth time in as many minutes, but the letters stubbornly remained the same.

Twilight had been out of the house for at least two hours now, and she was running out of reasons to stay outdoors. Not that she didn't feel at peace in her home, mind you, or tending the library as she always had. After dealing with devils and crazy people in equal measure, Twilight knew she had long since found her niche.

National threats, she could handle. Her sometimes idiotic town that needed saving every ten minutes? Twilight Sparkle and her girls would handle it. She was even getting better at avoiding the questions from her parents about when she would give them grandchildren: her thirtieth birthday was "only a couple of years off", after all.

No, the problem was with her roommate.

There was no denying that Spike had changed. For the most part, the adorable little apron-wearing doofus was gone, replaced by a sulking sex god of a teenager. Sure, when taken at surface value, it had seemed like a fair trade, but now she wasn't so sure.

Each she saw him, Twilight felt like an old friend was going farther and farther away. Each time she coaxed him into bed with her, it was like less of him was waking up the next morning.

Twilight wrinkled her nose. Geeze, I just made my vagina sound like a black hole.

Besides, she resolved, she had never been one for kids. Children were messy, chaotic, and exhausting. Twilight wrinkled her nose at the thought. As much as she loved her mentor, Twilight had been adamant about keeping things the way they were. Whatever they were. It was all she could do not to think of Spike and the m-word in the same sentence, now. Why did Celestia always have to make her think?

She blinked. Her wandering had led her out onto the street, and she soon found herself outside of a local mattress store.

Twilight pursed her lips. The mattress she had now was more than adequate, but a twin was hardly enough to support two people...

"Heya, Twilight!" called a familiar voice from behind her.

Twilight spun to find Applejack making her way from the market, a friendly, crooked grin on her face.

"Morning, Applejack," Twilight replied, giving an uneasy half-smile. "How are you today?"

"Shoot, girl, you know me," the older girl said, crossing her arms and widening her grin. The apple farmer was in her usual brown flannel shirt and jeans, along with her ever present stetson and cowgirl boots. "Nothing a bit of sweat and stretchin' won't fix, you know?" She jerked her head at the building. "You in the market?"

Twilight nodded. "I've, uh, outgrown my last one." She smiled unconvincingly. Do me a favor, and don't put two and two together.

Applejack laughed good-naturedly. "Sure, gotcha." Her eyes shut, and she sighed, as if she was trying to filter out her next words. "Just...ask him if he's gonna stay in it much longer, y'hear?"

Twilight's eyes widened. "I don't follow."

The apple farmer raised an eyebrow, as if to say Yeah, you do. "Just ask him," she said, turning to go back to her booth. "See you tonight."

Twilight stared at her friend's back, unsure of what to say. Then:

"Hey, AJ."

The farmer topped, peering over her shoulder.

"Do you think he'd be a good dad someday?"

Applejack scrunched up her face, unsure of what to say. After a time and a half, she shrugged. "Hard to be what you never had."

To that, Twilight had no response.

"Honestly," Luna chided, "you lot these days are such puritans." Already dressed in her duke blue court dress, the Princess of the Night donned her stockings, half-smirking at her young protege's face. "This country nowadays has no sense of fun."

"Yeah, well," Spike huffed, hunching over as he reached into a desk drawer, "we don't have big-ass dinosaurs like you used to, either."

"Speaking of which, your grandmother says hello." Luna retorted, reaching over and ruffling his hair.

"Careful with that sharp wit of yours," he warned sarcastically, "you might gut the next person you tell one of your lame jokes to."

Luna chuckled, arranging her tiara on the crown of her head so her ensemble was complete. "Oh, I do enjoy our time together, Spike." She smiled serenely. "Whatever you decide to do, I will wish you only the best."

Spike hesitated, gauging whether or not she was being serious. Eventually, his face broke out into a pleasant but reserved smile. This was Princess Luna, after all. She had been the one in his corner after the long years of his hibernation, the author of his fate. And, provided he didn't bomb his first mission and get his shit tossed to hell and back, she'd be a constant companion in the centuries to come. "Thanks, Princess."

Luna flicked him on the nose. "None of that."

He rolled his eyes humorously, and a light that hadn't been there before sparked in his eyes. "Thanks, Luna."

She smirked. "Better. Now, you. Homework. Now." She pressed him into his chair with a single finger. "Behavioral Analysis of Eldritch Abominations and The Physician's Guide to the Draconic Anatomy." She pressed two thin paperback books into his hands. "Read. Review. Turn it in before your job tonight."

A job. He supposed that was the best limiter she could put on his first mission as an officer without getting all shaky again, but still..

Before she started dwelling on the topic, Spike scrunched his nose. "I thought dragon biology was an unknown. How do we suddenly have a book on their anatomy?"

She patted him on the shoulder. "Your royalties are in the mail. As for next week's assignment, coughassumingyousurvivecough, we will be assessing practical uses of magical artifacts, magically transmitted diseases, and the influences of pop culture on modern magic."

"That last one can't be a real topic." Spike protested.

"On the contrary," Luna said, twirling her fingers. "Razzamafoo."

With a pop!, she was gone.

With a heavy sigh, Twilight left the market and turned back onto the street that would take her home. It was official: she had run out of things to do to put off facing her roommate.

She shuffled down the brick-paved sidewalk, thinking just how the hell was she going broach the topic of getting Spike to stay with her. At best, he'd be happy to stay, but nervous about going any farther than whatever it was they were now.

But, assuming the worst...

Her stomach felt like it had just plummeted into her shoes. Despite their reconciliation, repairing their friendship had been a dreadfully slow process. Gone were the days of boss and assistant; it was as if Spike's body had finally caught up with his demeanor, and she didn't see how bossing around a growing dragon was going to work out for anyone.

As immature as she knew she sounded, she'd give anything to avoid having to deal with her—

Twilight paused. That's strange.

Just a moment ago, it had been a clear summer day, complete with blue skies and sunshine.

Now, the entire town was overcast, and the only beam of sunlight...

...was shining down directly onto her face.

"Really?!" she shouted up at the sky, crossing her arms and frowning. "Could you be any less subtle?"

The sunlight flared in response.

"Fine, fine, I'm on my way," she grumbled. She allowed her magic to flow to her fingertips, making a pop as she teleported her groceries into the far-off library.

Still grumbling incoherently, she turned on her heel and walked briskly down a nearby alleyway, allowing the dank and dirty brick walls to cover the bright flash of her magic.

Celestia would want an answer soon, and Twilight was determined to give her one.

Knock knock!

"Door's open, Applejack." a voice rang out.

A slight creak, and a brown stetson peeked around the corner, followed by a straw-colored head of hair.

Applejack quirked an eyebrow. "How'd you know it was me?" A pause. "And any reason you're wearing glasses all of a sudden?"

"I could smell you coming, and I'm nearsighted," he answered, not looking up from his desk. "Can I help you with something?"

Applejack ignored the first comment, instead making her way inside. "Just browsing," she answered. She looked away as she felt his eyes upon her. Instead, she opted to meander about the library, pretending to pay close attention to the content of the shelves.

Finally, she worked her way over to him, and chanced a peek at the table where he worked. "You busy?"

"Yes."

"Good," she said, swinging herself onto the desk in front of him. "Whatcha up to?" She asked conversationally.

"Applejack," he said, his tone and scrunched face betraying his lack of patience.

"Speaking," she said, innocently.

Spike was not amused. "Look, I'm not up for entertaining bumpkins right now. if you're trying to get me back for last night-"

"This ain't about last night," Applejack answered, raising an eyebrow. "I ain't mad at you."

"You should be, considering what your sister and I were up to," he countered.

Applejack's face wrinkled, but she held her tongue. "I don't see a reason to get all bent out of shape about it."

Spike stared at her. "Bullshit. You can not be this chill about it."

The apple farmer shrugged. "What's done is done. 'Sides, Apple Bloom's her own person." Applejack held back a cringe. "Her decisions are her own, even if I don't always agree with 'em."

Spike leaned back in his chair. "Huh." He looked up at Applejack, suspicious. "That's...unusually levelheaded of you."

Applejack frowned. "You're saying I'm not?"

"Well, actually, not really," he answered. "Usually when someone brings your family into the picture, you kind of get...pissy?"

Applejack huffed, holding back a retort. Sure, it would be easy to get defensive and deny his accusations...

...but that wasn't what she came for.

Spike glared at her. "Why are you grinning?"`

She patted the table, ignoring his question. "What are you researching?"

He stared at her for a moment more, before answering. "I'm brushing up on dragon anatomy. Nothing major."

Applejack hesitated, then said, "Tell me somethin' about dragons I don't know already."

Spike paused, absently twirling a pencil about his fingers. Finally, he shrugged, leaning back in his chair. "We're really good at smelling, I guess."

Applejack scoffed. "Figured that much out myself, actually." She crossed her legs, the motion drawing his attention. His eyes darted briefly to her form-fitting jeans, before moving back to her face.

"When I said I could smell you coming? Wasn't an insult." He adjusted his glasses, leaning forward and folding his fingers in a gesture that implied deep thinking. "Dragon senses are different from humans. Sight and sound are naturally more advanced, while while our sense of touch is about the same. Our tongues are built for durability and stripping flesh—on command, that is— so our ability to taste isn't as advanced."

The apple farmer whistled, her interest piqued. "Go on."

"But," Spike continued, "our sense of smell is different. Sure, it's more advanced, but it's not a result of biology." His grinned, like a child who'd brought something fantastically unique to show and tell. "A dragon's olfactory organs are amplified by a passive supply of magic. It gives us an enhanced sense of smell, but," he said, holding up a finger, "an excess of that passive magic amplifies that sense of smell to where it borders on low-level empathy."

Applejack blinked. "Really now? So you could tell what someone's feelin' just by smelling them?"

"Well, no," he admitted. "It's more like a vague impression that I get of a person. Like, with you, AJ, you smell like apples every day of the week. But you also tend to smell like that feeling you get when you just took a hot shower after a long day of work, or laying down in front of a fire after a big dinner."

Applejack sighed. "I'm getting goosebumps just thinking about it." She shuddered. "Is that me all the time, or just on a good day?"

"Good days," Spike replied. "Other times, it's sweat and stiff muscles, followed by a crippling loneliness and sexual things. Really dark, angry sexual things."

Applejack coughed. Suddenly, the conversation didn't seem so enlightening. "Well, I reckon it's time I got back home, gettin' awful late and all."

Spike chortled; Applejack was half-mortified, half-satisfied to see her friend laughing for the first time in days.

"Why did you think I kept avoiding you?" he asked, incredulous. "Every time you came by, you smelled like rabid ferrets doused in crotchsweat."

The blonde's face became fixed with disgust. "The hell kind of thing is that to say to a girl?" Still, she had trouble suppressing a chuckle of her own, if the shaking of her stomach was any indicator. "Must be awful for you all the time, huh?"

Spike shook his head. "Not really. I only started piecing it together after I woke up from hibernating. And some people are more prominent than others."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, I can usually smell Twilight from anywhere in town. She—" Spike's eyebrows furrowed. "Huh. That's weird."

Applejack cocked her head. "What is?"

"I can usually tell when Twilight's in the area, like there's a big blanket over the city." He frowned. "She must have skipped town this morning."

Applejack was silent, as the cogs started to turn in her head and an idea started to form...

"Are you still mad?"

An angry violet gaze was all Princess Celestia got in response.

"You're still mad, then." She said, frowning.

"You think?" Twilight grumbled.

"It was just a suggestion," Celestia protested.

The two women made their way down the pristine marble floors of Canterlot Castle. Their progress was unimpeded, as they were the sole occupants of the long hallway.

Twilight kept her eyes on the floor, tracing the mottled designs made by the light cast from the stained glass windows she trotted next to.

Finally, she said, "I appreciate the sentiment, Princess, but I think it would be best to keep my relationship with Spike platonic."

The Sun Princess raised an eyebrow. "How would you define your relationship as platonic, exactly?"

"Devoid of romantic tension," Twilight replied, nearly hissing.

Anyone looking at the odd pair might have winced at Twilight's tone; relaxed as their relationship was, Celestia was still Princess-Regent of the kingdom.

There was also the fact that she was built like an Amazon.

Six feet tall and draped in a radiant white silk chiton, Princess Celestia cut a very powerful figure. Her multi-hued hair rippled with latent magic, and her lightly tanned skin seemed to glow with power. Her strong gaze was as kind as it was unknowable. It wouldn't be hyperbole to say she was a sun in miniature.

None of which mattered to Twilight Sparkle.

She knew she was pale and haggardly in comparison: that was a feeling one quickly got used to when spending time regularly with the Princess, along with a curiously strong warmth and something akin to the tightening of skin after being in the sun too long.

Twilight had come to expect these sensations in her long years with the Princess, but all that came to mind was agitation.

"You would be wise to consider your own words, Twilight," the Princess warned. "Emotion does not take its leave simply because you want it to. Sexual intercourse outside the confines of a romantic relationship is a poor match at best."

Twilight's face wrinkled as she consciously kept herself from stumbling. "What makes you think we've—"

"There is an expression you might have heard of," Celestia said, slowing their walk to a halt. "'There is nothing new under the sun.'" Her eyes met Twilight's unflinchingly. "I think you might find the meaning to be fairly literal."

"That's—"

"None of my business?" Celestia gestured to an ornate set of cherry doors, even as a spark of yellow magic prompted them to open. "Perhaps not as your friend. But when I see a student of mine adopting inadvisable habits, I must take it upon myself to intervene."

"And it didn't occur to you that marriage might not be the best choice?" Twilight asked incredulously. She looked into the room; the musty atmosphere and smell of aging wood gave the impression of a rarely used library.

"If you mean to ask if I only considered one possible solution, that would be incorrect." The noble crossed her hands behind her back, resting them over the arch of her hips. "I will ask you not to insult my intelligence."

As her mentor crossed the threshold into the expired room, Twilight resisted a huff, instead taking a deep breath to calm herself. When she was ready, she simply said, "I'm sorry, for the way I've been acting, Princess." She made to follow the older woman into the room.

Celestia nodded, but said nothing to acknowledge the words. Instead, she said, "You must realize where you stand, Twilight. You are known to the world as my pupil, yes, but you have made your name known as a result of your own deeds." She crossed over to a bookshelf, tracing a fingernail idly over the worn covers. "Normally, the world at large couldn't care less about what a student, however well-known, does in her spare time. But," she said, raising up that same finger, "that is not the case with your current...friend."

Celestia pulled a book seemingly at random from the bookshelf, laying it on a nearby table. The dust shook from the cover, taking to the air in a cloud large enough to cause a coughing fit. The title read Monsters and Myths.

"What exactly do you mean, Celestia?" Twilight asked cautiously. For all her intelligence, she only had a shadow of an idea of what the Princess was implying, and she didn't think she would be glad to be right.

"It would be dangerous enough if you were to consort with Spike in the public eye, given your shared history." Celestia pulled out a chair, gesturing at Twilight to sit next to her as she took a seat. "Questions would be raised, but at most, the civilians would frown at the implications and go about their lives."

"But?"

"But," the ruler said, drawing out the word, "that is only an if. What is, is that Spike is no longer just your assistant, just as you are no longer just my pupil. He is becoming a somebody, and it is only a matter of time before the rest of the world catches up."

Twilight felt a gnawing pit in her stomach, but did her best to ignore it. "What do you mean? I mean, yeah, he had surgery a while back, but nothing that would make the front page, right?"

"No, my dear," Celestia said, her countenance darkening. "I'm afraid it's not that simple."

The pit grew, becoming more insistent and distracting. "Did he do anything wrong?"

"Oh, believe me, we will get to what exactly he did wrong," Celestia said. The tone of her voice brought Twilight just on this side of panic. It must have been something big, if it was upsetting her teacher this much.

The Sun Princess spared her pupil a glance. "It is not his action that most concerns me," she said, as if she was capable of reading Twilight's mind. Something which wouldn't surprise her, Twilight reasoned. "It is my sister."

Twilight blinked. "What does Princess Luna have to do with this?" she asked.

Princess Celestia sighed. "A great deal, I'm afraid. A crisis has arisen, the very same one that concerns Spike. As his mentor and co-ruler of this country, Luna has seen fit to make Spike an officer of the state, one that wields considerable power at a costly price."

Twilight paused, saying nothing.

"However, in the context of the issue, it seems that the term 'power' is doubly appropriate." She turned to Twilight. "Are you familiar with the position of the Arch Mage?"

The scholar's mind raced, considering the possibilities. Spike was a dragon capable of magic, a rarity to be sure. But he would have been the last person to be chosen for the position of Arch Mage, considering the limited use of known dragon magic.

"Well, yes," Twilight stammered, remembering that her teacher expected an answer. "They're the highest authority of the government in terms of magical law enforcement. But they're usually master magicians, with heavily extensive knowledge on practical and educational magic."

"Exactly," the Princess said, nodding. "Do not misunderstand me: he was not offered that position in particular, but something equally prestigious. She has offered him the position of a Firedrake."

The word held weight, Twilight could tell, but she couldn't for the life of her recall anything on the office of a Firedrake.

"It is a relatively unknown position," Celestia said, breaking the silence. "Long since vacated. Only a dragon can hold it."

"So," Twilight said, feeling as if she was grasping at straws, "you don't think he's a good fit for the job?"

"Oh, he will be a good fit, believe me," came the answer. "He will have developed discipline in his studies, but discipline is not the problem. The problem is the strings that come attached with it."

Twilight raised an eyebrow, staring at her glowing companion. "Such as?"

"Two major factors," Celestia said, holding up just as many fingers. "For one, his powers will increase a great deal. In raw strength, he will almost be equal to me."

Twilight's eyes widened to golf balls. "Wow. Heavy."

"Indeed," Celestia replied. "However, dragon magic isn't like ours. It is raw, and primal. It demands a heavy price to be wielded consciously, one that the wielder must compensate for." Celestia leaned ever so slightly closer, as if to say Pay Attention! "He will be in no danger of dying at the result of his powers, but the opposite may very well be just as loathsome. Whatever tool he uses as a magical amplifier will increase his lifespan exponentially with each use. If he does not burn off the excess energy, he will...endure for many ages."

Twilight gasped, leaning backward up out of her chair. "You mean, he'd be...like you?"

She hadn't meant it harshly, but the implications were troubling. Dragons already had insane feats when it came to survivability. But for an already long-lived creature to live for so long, like a man existing out of time...

"You grasp the consequences," Celestia said. It was a statement, not a question.

"I—I do," Twilight admitted. Her head was hot with worry.

The Princess said nothing for a while, perhaps giving her student time to digest the information. After a while, however, she spoke. "The second matter is the...relationship between my sister and Spike."

Twilight's spine straightened, as if someone had rammed an icy cold rod between her shoulders.

"They are uncommonly close already—for my sister, that is—and with Spike as an officer of such high caliber, they would work together closely."

An absurd notion chewed at the back of Twilight's mind, one that she decided to voice. "Are you jealous of him?"

The question was so unexpected, so unlike Twilight, that it caught the dignitary completely by surprise. For a moment, Celestia's eyes were wide enough to see the wrinkles form in her forehead. Then, she broke out in laughter, a clear peal of sound dispelling part of the serious atmosphere that had gathered over the musty library.

Finally, after a moment or two, and a wry smirk on Twilight's part, Celestia sobered herself. With a fading chuckle, she answered, "No, Twilight. Not especially," If she was lying, the sparkle of mischief in her eyes was telling. "It's more that—how do I say this without being offensive?" Celestia chewed on the inside of her cheek briefly, "Luna can be...territorial, I suppose, when it comes to those she is close with." She sighed. "It is my underlying fear that she may have acted rashly in making her proposal so early."

Twilight could see where the Princess was coming from. A handsome young man with enough power to be seen as a peer, under your command for the foreseeable eternity? The offer seemed too ludicrous to be a coincidence.

"I can't say I blame her," Twilight admitted, "not really, but don't you think this situation seems a bit...contrived?"

Celestia nodded her head in agreement. "I believe that Luna had no hand in the current crisis, but her solution seemed oddly prepared. I am of the persuasion that she was always planning on making the offer, and perhaps not for the most noble of reasons."

Twilight grumbled to herself, crossing her arms as she glanced at the nearly forgotten Myths and Monsters tome laying on the wooden table.

"Guess she just needed a time and a place."

Spike sighed, leaning back on the couch next to Applejack. He smiled lightly. "That was nice. I guess it's really been a while since I've had a chance to unwind."

Applejack returned his smile, wrapping a friendly arm around his shoulders. "Nothing like friendly conversation to make work go by quickly, I always say."

"You never say that," Spike retorted.

"Yes huh," Applejack replied, sticking out her tongue. "You're just never around when I say it."

Spike's smile widened, and he leaned into her shoulder, sighing. "This is nice," he repeated lazily.

Ever so carefully, Applejack brought her hand down, thumbing the small of his back. "Yeah?" Her head fell against his, and she made sure to let a golden lock or two dangle in front of the young man's face. For good measure.

"Yeah," he agreed. A hand reached around Applejack for a hip-hugging embrace. "It feels like its been forever since I just sat down with someone, you know?"

"I know," she replied. That much wasn't a fabrication, at least. Cavorting around with her little sister seemed like such a minuscule offense now. Applejack released a sigh of her own as her young quarry unconsciously brushed up against the skin of her tawny neck.

Spike smiled. "I always wondered what it would be like to just chill with an older brother or sister." He closed his eyes. "It feels nice."

The blonde cowgirl moved in for the kill. She could already taste the bitter salt of his skin on her—

Wait, what?

"Wait, what?" Applejack said, startled. She pulled her lips out of a sensual curl before he looked up at her.

How the hell had she misread that?

Spike frowned, and it was obvious to Applejack that he thought he overstepped his bounds. "Did I say something wrong?" he asked warily.

Applejack shook her head as she waited for the words to come to mind. "No, it's just—"

To her dismay, Spike pulled out of her grip. He looked worried. "Was this about how I was acting earlier?" He started to fidget with his hands, looking every part a shamed pet.

Applejack rolled her eyes, reaching a strong hand out and pulling his warm body back in reach. She sighed internally, before speaking. "No, it's just that...we haven't exactly been model citizens to each other, y'know?"

"I'm sorry," he blurted.

Applejack waved it off. "I know, sugar," Spike went rigid. She never called him that anymore. "But I haven't been all that great about things either," she hurriedly replied. "I guess what you said just came out of left field...?"

Spike eyed her for a moment more, before relaxing. "Look, AJ, it's..." He seemed to fumble for a second. "Well, we've known each other a long time, right? We were due for a fight or two anyway, and now it's better."

Applejack frowned. "That ain't exactly how it works."

Spike snorted. "Says who?" He shrugged, his shoulder bumping up pleasantly against her chest. He sighed. "I guess I was overreacting and all. I thought you just wanted one thing, you know?"

Applejack felt sick at the accuracy of his statement.

Then Spike sighed, laying his head on her shoulder. "It's cool now. I know I can trust you."

Applejack felt strangely honored, if not royally pissed off at nothing. Their friendship was back where it started, she reasoned, but their friendship was back where it started.

Still, she sulkily resolved to make the best of it. She would be the dependable one here. If her friend needed solidarity rather than a warm body, then dammit, she would give it to him.

Spike squirmed against her. His hand roamed over her stomach. "Have I mentioned how totally awesome it is how jacked you are?" he said, beaming.

Yes, she would give it to him. But holy hell, would it be trying.

The hours passed, and eventually Spike knew that his moment of truth was at hand. He said goodbye to a confused Applejack, promising to see her again before the night was out.

Dusk was fast approaching, and he was hoping his job would be a quick one.

As the drake ran through the town, and eventually the surrounding flatlands, he allowed his mind to fade to a blank. Nervousness and thinking about what might be could very well be his undoing, as Luna had taught him.

Even as he sprinted past the yellowing hills and onto the rich red dirt of a nearby crater, he turned up his nose and smelled the air.

He was close. And far from alone.

Spike frowned. He had failed to account for extras, and while they would hardly pose a threat, he couldn't afford to waste time.

The air popped next to him, and like a burst of moonlight, Princess Luna was next to him, keeping pace.

The two of them said nothing, instead making their way to the peak of a nearby dusty plateau.

Their steps slowed, eventually to a complete stop. For the first time that evening, Spike turned to face his mentor and friend.

Gone was the subtle sensuality that was present that morning. In its stead was a hard determination, turning an otherwise elegant and pretty face into that of a hardened diarch. Her outfit was that of a midnight blue military officer, complete with elegant shoulder pads and a sinister cape. She wore black heeled boots and matching gloves.

"We must stay here a while longer," she said, breaking the silence. "The fire ruby is ready, but I will require an additional magician to safely make the transfer."

"It's a necklace," he said, dryly.

"A magic necklace," she corrected. "We would be wise to take such a precaution. We do not want your life to spill into the aether as a result of my lack of practice."

"That," Spike said, "is also true."

"As for your mission," she continued, "I will try to aid you when possible, but my own powers are limited against a living shadow."

Spike quirked an eyebrow. "Moonlight?"

"Is a byproduct of the sun," Luna stated, a hint of a grudge in her voice. "Celestia's powers would be of little use in such a confrontation. The case is even more apparent with me."

Spike frowned, nodding in reply.

"Now, remember," Luna said, her forehead contorting as she frowned, "Balrogs are spirits. They are susceptible to physical trauma, but your best chance will be to destroy it with concussive force. Shadow creatures and combustion are an ill match, so you will have to improvise an explosion."

"Fire isn't exactly advisable here, though," he argued.

"Heat isn't advisable," she amended. "Burn harder, not hotter."

Suddenly, a snap sounded in the distance. The Princess looked grimly pleased, calling with her amplified voice: "We are here, my friend."

A second pop sounded, this one much closer. The flash was immediate yet mild, and as Spike lowered his hand from his eyes, he gasped.

"Fancy Pants?!"

The aforementioned gentleman grinned mildly, dusting off a shoulder. "Present and accounted for." He bowed to the Princess first, receiving a brisk nod, before turning to Spike. He grasped the younger man by the shoulder, greeting him with a smile. "Well met, Spike. Have you been keeping well?"

"I, uh, yeah, I have." Spike stammered. "You're the magician?"

The socialite grinned, a familiar light in his eyes. "I am a man of many talents, as you should know by now."

"Come now," Princess Luna said, her thin lips set in a smirk. "I think you are understating the truth to your words."

Spike blinked. "Am I missing something?"

Fancy Pants shrugged, nonchalant. "I, ah, suppose I never did tell you what I did for a living, did I, Spike?"

"I never actually asked," Spike admitted, crossing his arms.

Luna's smirk widened, cocking her hip as she gestured to the older gentleman. "Then please, allow me to formally introduce the two of you. as is proper for such a historic meeting." Her eyes shone. "Firedrake, behold your peer and future confidante, The Arch Mage of Equestria."

The Ones Who Wish You The Best Part 2

"You're kidding, right?"

Fancy Pants' smile turned a bit crooked. "An odd time for a joke, wouldn't you think?"

The three of them stood at the crest of a small hill. Princess Luna watched the flow of conversation between the two men. saying nothing as she knelt on one knee. She clutched a glowing red pendant, holding it by the inconspicuous black chain. Muttering under her breath, she seemed to be making last-minute enchantments.

Spike, on the other hand, was less occupied. He fidgeted awkwardly. "So, when you saw me in that bar a couple of months ago—"

"Complete coincidence," Fancy Pants said. "I recognized your face, but not your position."

Spike relaxed ever so slightly. For a fleeting moment, he had been worried that their meeting had been contrived. He wouldn't have put it past Luna, with all her experience, to put such an important encounter in motion.

He eyed the older man. Gone was his nigh-omnipresent suit and tie, replaced instead with slim black dress robes and a stark white collar. "So," he spoke, "Arch Mage."

The blue-haired man turned to face the setting sun, hands clasped behind his back. "Didn't you ever think it odd that a mere socialite would possess knowledge as a surgeon?"

Spike shrugged. "Honestly? I just thought you had free time on your hands. That or it ran in the family."

Fancy Pants laughed. "Funny, that."

Spike blinked. "What is?"

The noble turned back to face Spike. His smile was sincere, but oddly blank. For a moment, he said nothing. Then...

"What do you know about your family, Spike? Your blood?"

The drake stiffened. He didn't like talking about them. Ever.

"Not much, I guess. Never met them."

Fancy Pants could feel the eyes of the Princess on his back. He could imagine she was shooting him a silent warning, but he paid her no heed. "Orphan, then?"

Spike shook his head stiffly. "Dragons don't die that easily. The sire usually never stays around for long if there isn't an emotional attachment, but the mot-" He slipped over the word. "The dam will usually nurse the clutch to an age where they could survive on their own."

Fancy Pants' face remained passive. "Or?" He urged.

Spike's scowl became more and more unpleasant, until it resembled that of a break in a rock. "Or, if the dam doesn't think the clutch will be strong enough to survive, or if the offspring shows a fault, she'll leave it to die and start somewhere else."

Fancy Pants whistled softly. "So, what was wrong with you?"

Spike's eyes narrowed, his fists clenching at his sides. If Fancy Pants had a point, he wished he would get to it. "I was small, and the only egg in the clutch." He heard the chanting at his side grow faster, as the Princess seemed keen to finish and say her piece.

"Logic said that I wouldn't survive on my own."

Fancy Pants nodded, turning back to the horizon.

For a time, it seemed he wouldn't say anything on the matter. His shoulders slumped, and he stepped to the edge of the cliff.

Luna's eyes widened for an instant. Spike started after him, but it was unnecessary. The Arch Mage stooped down, sitting himself on the crest of the high hill, his back to his comrades.

Finally, he said, "I, on the other hand, grew up with both of my parents." He patted the ground next to him. "Come hither, boy."

Slowly, Spike approached the older man, sitting next to him. His large hands raced over each other, as if some unseeable anxiety ate at him.

"I was born to a pair of nobles a matter of years ago. The third child of four, and the second boy." He sighed. "My parents were esteemed merchants, and they never hesitated to make time for me or my siblings."

Spike said nothing. Was he trying to make him jealous? To what end?

"They would spend hours teaching us the trade, helping us with schoolwork, making sure we became proper nobles. It was expected, you see." He spared Spike a sideways glance. "Your fate is all but determined as a noble from the moment you are born. Granted, my oldest brother would be the one to inherit the family business, so I would be expected to make my own mark.

He leaned back on his hands. "I was decent at the tasks I was given. Competent, but not especially gifted. But I was content."

His frown turned deeper at the edges. "My parents were always making certain to build me up, to say that I would follow in their footsteps in a wondrous way. 'The busiest men have the most leisure,' my father would always say."

Fancy Pants chuckled deeply. his smile turning morose. "I hated my father."

Spike started, his eyes widening. "W-what?"

The older man ran a hand through his hair, his expression wistful. "I suppose it is unbecoming of a man to complain about his childhood." He laughed again, but there was no humor in it. "Though I suppose I should use that word loosely."

The hill was silent, and Spike realized absently that the Princess had finished her enchantments, and was listening intently.

"I loathed living at home. Every dinner was a lecture. Every slouch was reward by a ruler to the wrist. I bowed to men I didn't respect and kissed the hands of repulsive women." His body was rigid. "My mother would insist on making 'friendships' with the right people early on in life, regardless of how I felt. I wasn't allowed to be around the people I wanted to befriend. Did you know it is possible to auction off a groom to be wed to the daughter of a prominent family? Ten years before he is a legal adult, no less?"

Spike shook his head no. He was at a loss for words.

"Yes, well, my mother was responsible for that particular hiccup. It was my father, however, who allowed it all to happen. He saw how miserable I was under their orders. He knew, and even when I confronted him, he did nothing."

He sighed. "'Listen to your mother,' he said. 'It's for the good of the family.'"

"How did you proceed?" Luna asked softly.

"The only way I could," Fancy Pants said, bitterly. "I found a well-paying job for my age and bided my time. Three long, harrowing years later, I moved out from under them and supported myself. I was fifteen."

Spike felt his chest sag. He didn't know what to say to comfort the older man, but he realized that any apology would never seem sincere without understanding.

"And then....I never saw them again," Fancy Pants said, blankly. "I moved clear to the other side of Canterlot, but it was unnecessary. A house fire took my father and youngest sister a number of years after I left." Luna gasped in shock, reaching a hand to her lips. Spike was speechless, his eyes the size of golfballs.

"My mother never learned to cope, so she took my brother and moved to the east. Out of sight, out of mind, I suppose."

Spike swallowed. "Are you okay?" He wanted to slap himself in the face for such a dumb question. "Now, I mean."

Fancy Pants turned to him, smirking darkly. "Of course. I am always okay."

Spike averted his eyes from the older man. "So, uh, what was the moral of the story?"

Fancy Pants gave an uncharacteristic snort. "Moral? There wasn't one. Wasn't supposed to be one." He scratched his cheek. "But I suppose if you had to squint, it would be that a shared burden becomes a lighter one."

Now it was Spike's turn to snort. "Really? I didn't pick up on that at all."

"Not in his recollection, Spike," Luna corrected, "but in the act of the telling itself. By his tone, it would seem that our Fancy Pants has not deigned to share this very personal and influential part of his life with many others. We are a privileged few."

The Arch Mage nodded. "Indeed. Even now, I feel as though a great weight has lifted from my chest. I thank you both for listening to my story." He started to smile again as he looked at Spike. "Should we survive tonight, it is my wish that you use me as a listening ear whenever you should require me."

Spike nodded in agreement: something about being able confide in an older, more experienced man gave him a relief he rarely felt. Twilight and Luna both were both fine listeners, but he loathed whenever either woman would try to make him see the best of any possible situation, rather than simply hear him out and sympathize with him.

I need more guy friends, he noted.

"Well then," Princess Luna said, striding between the two of them, "I believe we are nearly out of time." She moved to Spike, wrapping the blackened cord around his neck. "This is Tarturian Obsidian," she warned, locking eyes with Spike. "It is extremely heat resistant, but it reacts poorly to force."

Spike nodded. "Why not just use enchanted metal?"

The Princess's face was stern. "Because I lost my apatite."

Silence.

"Really?" she said, squinting harshly. "Not even a titter?"

"Heh," the two men chuckled.

Luna rolled her eyes. "Anyway, we had better get started. Spike, focus your magical pressure directly under your pectorals. Fancy Pants, you know what to do."

Both magicians nodded. Spike closed his eyes in concentration. The exercise was far easier than when he had initially started to control his innate magic. He was far from a natural like Twilight, but his consistency had paid off.

Soon, the bottom of his sternum had started to gather heat, similar to a Bunsen burner.

Fancy Pant's hands started to glow blue, and as he approached his peer, he murmured, "Hold still."

Without warning, his hands shot forward towards Spike's chest. They stopped just short of touching him, but the tendrils of sparkling blue magic extended into him. Spike had to fight to suppress struggling.

The feeling wasn't painful, but it was far from natural. It was similar to having an itch under your skin, but it seemed to travel through every part of him.

Finally, the magic seemed to latch onto the heat in Spike's sternum, and Fancy Pants pulled.

Now, it had started to hurt.

Spike grunted painfully, digging his heels into the ground to keep from moving forward. His eyes were still closed, but he had an idea of what was happening. Fancy Pants was tugging something out of his body, leaving his flesh chilled and his blood unusually tepid.

Then, he felt the something being divided with magic, first into halves, then into fourths, and finally into eighths. Each length latched onto a singular object, a stone that seemed to pulse with uncharacteristic warmth.

A dull thud sounded into the ground beneath him, and all was quiet.

"It is finished," said Luna.

Spike opened his eyes. The Princess had raised a glowing hand, moving in a seemingly erratic pattern over his body. "The ruby has accepted your vitality," she stated. The hand moved again. "You may experience a slight boiling sensation. Do not panic: it is your life force being filtered through the stone and flowing back into you."

Spike took a deep breath. When he exhaled, however, a spout of flame leapt from his mouth, a foot in length. He clapped a hand over his mouth. "I did not mean to do that," he said.

Luna smirked wryly. "You will have to adapt to your powers another time. For now, you will need little restraint."

Fancy Pants wiped the soot from his face. "Quite."

"Twilight," asked the Princess, "do you know what a Balrog is?"

The student blinked. "I've heard the name before, but I can't say I've come across them in my studies."

Celestia nodded. "As it would naturally be. They have been wrapped in obscurity for the greater part of recent history." She leaned forward, a glowing digit tracing the spine of Monsters and Myths. The Princess turned to read from the book. "They are a long-extinct race of malevolent spirits. Unique, in that they can adopt a physical form composed of shadow and fire."

"I, uh, heard mention of them the other night," Twilight admitted. "Supposedly they live in volcanoes?"

"Born in volcanoes," Celestia said gently. "Or, at least, structures similar to volcanoes. They are, or rather, were, conceived in Tartarus. The dark of the pit serves as their essence, and heat gives them form."

Twilight nodded, her mouth opening in comprehension. "The heat rises in a cohesive mass and forms land structures."

"Exactly," the Princess confirmed. "As a result, the environment warps when the mass reaches the surface. It is a magical phenomenon, one which warps the immediate landscape into a stone womb. It is a false volcano."

Twilight whistled. Passive magic from an unborn being that could cause limited local terraforming? Strong stuff.

A thought sprang to her mind. "Wait, if they're long extinct, why did this one spring up?"

Celestia raised an eyebrow, and Twilight remembered that her teacher had not yet actually confirmed the survival of the fire demons. "Apparently," she said slowly, "this particular being never woke from its slumber. It is possible it remained asleep for eons, but I find it more likely that it was a stillborn."

Twilight wrinkled her nose. "How do you figure that?"

The Princess steepled her fingers together, frowning. "Remember, Twilight, they are spirits. Their very existence is different from ours, and their lives do not share the same consequences as ours either. A dead Balrog would lose its fire and have its essence retreat to Tartarus."

Twilight's eyes widened, her spine stiffening. "But a stillborn would still be trapped in a warm womb!"

Celestia nodded gravely. "Precisely. Its consciousness may be scattered for a time, but its essence would remain intact when kept packed so closely together. A significantly powerful event or individual, however, would very well be capable of rallying it."

"Spike," Twilight whispered. It only made sense. So he was telling the truth...

"It seems that the growth of a dragon's power is universally tied to greed," the Princess mused. "Each person they establish sexual dominance over adds to their own magical and physical abilities. This would be worrying, if not for the inherent nature of dragons to keep to themselves."

"How does it work?" Twilight asked. "Do we know? That's always been kind of vague to me."

"I will do my best to explain what I have learned," Celestia said. "It would appear that a person who is still discovering his or herself is more susceptible to domination, than, say, a person who knows exactly who they are." A small smirk creased her mouth. "So, tragic as it is to say, not much would be gained from sleeping with myself or my sister."

Twilight nodded in understanding. "So, how many babies would he have to—"

"Do not finish that sentence."

"Fine, fine," Twilight shrugged, trying and failing at suppressing a grin. "Still, that's...wow. That's a dangerous combination."

"You see my point," Celestia said. "Now do you comprehend the full measure of my proposal?"

Twilight hated to admit it, but she did. "I guess so, yeah. I thought it was more of a crack idea you put together last minute, to be honest."

Celestia spared her a trivial smirk. "A reasonable, if unfounded doubt. It was one of several contingency plans I have concocted over the years. A life of dedication to a single woman would keep the balance of power in check, along with several other added benefits."

"So you didn't just want grandchildren?" Twilight teased.

"'Several other added benefits'," Celestia reiterated.

Twilight rolled her eyes, smiling. "No promises," she said, honestly.

Celestia frowned, getting up from her seat. "I suppose I couldn't expect more." She tried a smile. "If that is what you wish, my dear." She turned, making for the exit.

The purple-haired librarian twitched. "Wait, aren't you going to put the book back up?"

Celestia glanced over her shoulder. "It will be fine, Twilight."

"Well, sure it'll be fine, if you think disorder and misconduct is fine!"

Now it was Celestia's turn to roll her eyes. "If it matters that much to you, feel free to put it back yourself, librarian."

"I can't, I wasn't watching you when you got it from the shelves!" She stressed. She knew she should've taken her blood pressure medicine this morning. "And there are dozens of unmarked bookcases in here!"

Celestia pursed her lips. "Well, my dear, that sounds like a personal problem."

She strutted out of the library, chuckling. Twilight could be so obsessive-compulsive at times.

"Celestia!"

"Alright," Spike grumbled, flexing his arm in order to get the blood pumping, "Let's get this over with."

The other two magicians stepped to the side, though Luna kept her eyes on the surrounding badlands. "Constant vigilance," she reminded him, before stepping into the shadows.

"I will be hidden for the duration of this battle, waiting for the opportune moment. You may summon me if my services are needed, but hopefully it will not come to that. Try not to get shot up," Fancy Pants warned.

"I'll do that," Spike said dryly. As Fancy Pants disappeared in a flash, Spike maintained his pace, entering a dip in a smooth valley of sediment. If the smell in the air was right, he had arrived at the right destination.

He drew in his breath, bellowing, "Gar-" a spout of flame temporarily blinded him. "Shit, I can't see!"

"Go home, loser!" a familiar voice called out.

Spike rubbed his eyes, calling out more carefully this time, "You know, I was just about to. But now I have to stay just to spite you."

A snort followed, this time accompanied by a female voice. "Buzz off, pencil dick! We're busy!"

Gilda, he thought. He shrugged. His mission was the same, even if there was one more nuisance he had to deal with. "The sooner you come out, the sooner we can get this over with!"

"Not in the mood," Garble's voice said, apparently sulky. Spike started—how had he snuck up right beside him without Spike noticing?

If the older dragon noticed his surprise, he didn't comment on it. He wore no shirt, and had only a pair of dark red knee-length shorts covering him. His chest had a single scar marring his pectorals "My consulting-with-bitches hours are from nine to five on weekdays." He yawned, and Spike could have sworn he saw a wisp of abnormally black smoke escape from his mouth. "Now beat it, before I glass you." His eyes narrowed into a yellow slit.

"Not happening," Spike said, standing his ground. "I've got a job to do, and I'm not leaving until it's done."

"That," Garble said, pointing at the younger drake, "is not my problem. Besides, it's too late in the day. I'm not about to deal with you or your shitty pop culture references."

Spike scowled. "At least I don't look like I dipped my hair in my girlfriend's period."

Garble's jaw dropped, as if he was too busy being disgusted to be angry. "Why the hell would you even say that."

Gilda chortled again, walking out from sizeable crack in a relatively small mesa. "He got ya there, G."

Garble turned to her, snarling. "For fuck's sake, Gilda, put some pants on. We got guests." He turned back to Spike. "Annoying guests, but still."

The older woman grumbled, scratching her back lazily. "Who gives a shit? We're at home." She wore a pair of black panties and a dingy brown t-shirt. Her slender legs were bare.

Spike winced. "You live here?"

"Running water and electricity, jackass. It's a renovated home, real fucking modern." Gilda sounded irritated. "Besides, I know how much you dragon-types love your rocks.

Dammit, she's right, Spike thought. I fucking love rocks. "Look," Spike said, growing impatient, "there's a problem here. Someone here was moronic enough to eat an ancient demon, and now it's my job to make sure you two and everyone for a hundred miles doesn't get killed."

Garble's eyes narrowed. "I took care of the demon already. We're not in any danger."

Gilda, however, didn't look so confident. "Wait, G. If that thing's still alive, it might explain why your piss turned black earlier.

"What."

The redheaded dragon frowned. "Shit, you're right. That'd explain that Latin chanting I heard when we were fucking earlier too."

"Nyahaha," Spike said, covering his ears. "I did not need that information."

"Alright, I'm convinced," Garble said, albeit reluctantly. "Do what you came here to do. Exorcise me, or whatever."

Spike rolled his eyes, moving toward the older man. "Try to relax," he said. His eyes flicked to Gilda. "You might want to go inside."

She snorted, but complied. "Have fun bonding, ass wipes."

The two dragons watched her disappear into the house. "She's cute," Spike said.

Garble snarled. "Don't even."

He shrugged. "Anyway, here's the deal: this creature, this Balrog, is a spirit of malevolence. We're lucky, seeing as how this one's still a baby."

The red-haired dragon looked unconvinced. "That thing was the size of a house. You expect me to believe that it's just a kid?"

"No," Spike said impatiently, "I'm expecting you to chime in every two sentences with your opinion. Now let me finish."

Garble rolled his eyes. "I cannot believe what a little shit you grew up to be." His eyes narrowed. "If you'd been raised properly, we wouldn't be knee-deep in shit like we are now."

"If you're anything like the rest of our people, I would've been better off dead," Spike spat. "Every dragon I've ever met has only been bad news, Garble. You're no exception."

The larger drake knew they were getting off-topic, but he couldn't care less: this little talk was years overdue. "Yeah, kid, I'm not a patron saint. Big deal. But at least I don't kid myself about it. I see people for what they are," he said, thumping his chest. "And let me tell you, your shit stinks."

"Oh, so I'm kidding myself?!" Spike asked, incredulously. He was fuming. Literally. A single wisp of smoke wafted from his head, unbidden. "Excuse me if I'm not a psychopathic, egg-smashing, would-be murderer!"

"Kiss already!" Gilda's voice called out from the window.

The two dragons glared at each other, chests heaving. The tension was palpable. Spike could feel a fight coming, like a bomb primed for an explosion. All it would take was a shift in his step.

And yet...

Earlier, he had been confident that he could handle any problem the older dragon would pose. Then, when he had lost track of his movement, only to be caught completely off-guard by his rapid approach, he wasn't so sure.

A tiny, ridiculous thought called out to him from the back of his mind. He tried to pay it no mind, but it was insistent.

What if the demon was amplifying his powers?

The rogue thought was troubling, but it told him nothing he didn't know already. All the more reason for him to finish the job at hand.

Taking a deep breath, Spike relaxed his shoulders. He felt the fight seep out of him.

When he was ready, he turned his attention back to Garble. "When I give the signal, run for the hills."

Garble's stare was malevolent. "I don't think so. I'm not going to leave my fiance here alone with a demon. Or the Balrog, for that matter."

Spike ignored the slight. "You'd be putting her in more danger by being here. You're the one who trapped it. You're the one it's gonna be gunning for."

Garble fixed his jaw, saying nothing. His silence was deafening.

Spike snorted, frustrated with his nerve, but not surprised. "Don't say I didn't warn you."

The Firedrake held his hand out, compelling the constant flow of energy to gather at his hand. Soon, his palm was glowing with green magic, flickering with the appearance of unnatural fire. Without hesitation, he clutched at the Fire Ruby on his chest, feeling the pulse of magic send the pendant into overdrive.

He felt a subtle hum in the air, though there was no sound to be heard. His insides felt as if they were burning, but pleasantly so, as if he was taking a steaming hot bath and the water had seeped inside every pore, bathing him.

All of his senses were amplified to a staggering degree, though they were not debilitating. His sense of smell sharpened, and the pinpoint location of the demon was clear to him, where before there had been only guesses.

There!

Without warning, he darted forward. Quick as thought, he jabbed into Garble's stomach with his fingers. He sent a short but intense flame into the older drake's stomach, ignoring his pained squawk.

As soon as the flames reached around the heated diamond, he pulled, compelling them to return to him.

In seconds, the magic flames, the same that he once used to send letters to the Princess, billowed out from Garble's upturned mouth. In another second, they coiled together, forming a pitch black diamond.

Taking no chances, Spike heaved the jewel into the air, summoning his fire for an intense blast of pure force.

That's when things went wrong.

Celestia hummed to herself as she made her way down the hall.

Things were going better than expected. Twilight may have rebelled against what she thought was best, but that itself was promising news; she had long worried that the girl would have to be weaned off of her teacher's influence, so devoted was the faithful student.

Her fears, if not unfounded, were better relieved for the meeting of the two women. Over a glass or two, the Princess was confident that they could arrive at a solution.

Tucked under Celestia's arm was a bottle of Chardonnay, two wine glasses tucked into the contours of her fingers. She would use their conversation about Twilight's current...situation, to segue into a lesson of socializing at dinners and other high-society events.

Twilight had always dodged education on aristocracy with an uncharacteristic vehemence, but now that she was older...

Celestia smiled. She would see to it that Twilight had a good day.

Twilight was having a good day.

She leaned back in Celestia's cushioned recliner, the very same she would nestle in to read books with her mentor when she was a child. She held a steaming mug of tea between her hands, and she had just curled up to have an undisturbed session with Monsters and Myths.

Princess Celestia had coaxed her student into enjoying the rest of her evening in her own private study, far from the prying eyes of the public, while she finished her duties for the day.

"Stay here, stay quiet, and try not to break anything this time," had been her exact words.

"Are you still holding a grudge for when I broke your microscope?" Twilight had said, indignant. "That was forever ago!"

"Last month, to put a fine point on it," the Princess had said, plainly.

So now, here she was, passing the time until her mentor returned. She hummed, opening the book to where she had left off earlier. She hadn't known where to put it on the bookshelves, so she had decided to take it with her. Who knew? It might come in handy later.

She curled deeper still into the chair. She knew she should send a message of some sort to Spike, to let him at least know where she was. After all, she had been gone all day...

Thump.

Twilight started as a dull shockwave rattled the windows, slightly jarring the tower. It was fleeting; too quick to be an earthquake, and yet the hair on the back of her neck stood on end. Somehow, she knew there was something wrong.

She leaned to the side, looking through a nearby window. She didn't expect to see anything, not at this time of night.

But as her eyes closed in on a black, fiery explosion in the distance, her hopes plummeted. A deep, winding pit coiled into her stomach, a nervous sweat breaking out onto her face.

Spike.

She threw the mug and book to the side, kicking on her shoes as she got to her feet. She had to leave the castle immediately; it was imbued with wards that prevented anyone but Celestia or Luna from gaining entrance via magic.

She raced outside of the study, bowling over a surprised Princess Celestia and breaking the bottle of wine and pair of glasses that she carried.

"Sorry!" she said, wincing as she turned the corner, catching the view of her teacher drenched in Chardonnay.

As she dashed into the courtyard, calling on her magic to make the jump, she could hear Celestia's annoyed voice.

"Dammit, Twilight, you had one job!"

Technically, everything was still going to plan.

Make contact with Garble? Check.

Expel the Balrog? Check.

That was all fine and good, but Spike had neglected to account for a detail or two.

As he knew, the demon was only a baby when it had awoken. A veritable threat, but not unmanageable for a magician of his caliber.

No, the problem with the infant Balrog was that it was simply that: an infant. As in, it hadn't finished growing.

So by the time Spike had pieced together that the baby wasn't quite a baby anymore, and that the burning insides of a dragon such as Garble had perhaps served as an incubator, the Balrog was the size of a redwood tree and the plan got a lot more complicated.

It was a sight to behold, if nothing else. Spike had never believed that shadow could become a solid object, but the demon seemed to be a wall of impenetrable darkness. Its horns were curved like that of a rams, and its burning claws were made for cleaving stone and flesh. It lacked any eyes, and Spike couldn't help but compare the creature to a walking, demonic jack-o-lantern, with the body of a jacked humanoid bat.

"Nothing's ever simple, is it?" Spike said, bitterly.

True to Spike's predictions, the fire demon turned toward Garble, recognizing his presence. It growled, a sound like a forest fire emanating from its mouth. Without warning, it swung a heavy claw at the redheaded drake, clawing through solid rock in the process.

Cusing, Garble leapt out of the way, barely. "What the hell!" he yelled, yellow eyes bright and uncertain. "This thing is pulling me in somehow!"

Spike blinked, not understanding what he meant. Then, he looked down.

Shit! he thought, backpedaling. This thing is so dense, it has its own gravitational pull! How is that possible?!

A beam of magical lightning struck the Balrog in its chest, buffeting it but causing no physical damage.

Luna descended upon the pair of them. "Beware!" she yelled, summoning a massive shield to keep the monster at bay. "The beast is still connected to Tartarus!"

"Meaning?" Garble yelled, unfazed by the Princess's appearance. He looked shaken.

"Tartarus is a pit!" Spike yelled back, stepping sideways from his comrades to flank the Balrog, never taking his eyes off of the creature. "Everything inside is kept there by a massive gravity well!" He winced as the creature battered at the blue shield of magic, shattering it as if it was so much glass.

"Do not approach it! We do not know the position of the event horizon!" Luna yelled, taking to the air once the shield broke.

"Don't have to tell me twice," Garble grumbled, turning and running in the opposite direction.

As soon as the Balrog lumbered after the other drake, Spike knelt, concentrating. The powerful hum of the Fire Ruby still ran deep in him, stoking his magic and amplifying it. He knew there would be consequences for using it for such a long period of time, but that was a problem for another day.

He called upon his fire, drawing it to the back of his throat. With magic, he coaxed it into shape, feeding it and its ferocity until he was sure it would be sufficient. Finally, his fireball was complete. He took aim at the demon, and spat the flame forth.

POP!

"Hey—SHIT!" Twilight yelled, just barely ducking under the flaming missile as she teleported directly in front of Spike.

Spike's heart nearly stopped right then. He heaved an audible sigh once he realized his friend was alright, but was still shaking with surprise. "What the hell was that?!" he barked. "I could've taken your torso off!"

Twilight got up from the ground, dusting her skirt off. "I came to help, believe it or not. I wasn't about to stay in Canterlot and wait for a call from the mortician."

Spike wrinkled his nose. "Would it kill you to have a little more faith in me?" Despite his tone, he was undoubtedly glad to see Twilight, though the circumstances could be better. A thought popped into his head. "Wait, how did you know to come here?"

The librarian shrugged. "Celestia told me." She stiffened, glaring over Spike's shoulder. "That, and your friend over there paid me a visit last night."

Spike's eyes widened, before narrowing in contempt. "Did he hurt you?"

Twilight scoffed. "As if. His girlfriend was a little grabby, though."

Spike blinked. "Gilda?" Then, "Did—"

"No, I was not into it."

Spike deflated. Then, "Well—"

"No, I did not record it."

"Dang," he said, frowning. He turned, remembering that there was a situation at hand. "Well, hopefully we'll be done here soon. That fireball I just cast—"

Just then, the aforementioned missile collided with the Balrog, exploding. The force was substantial, but the demon's body seemed to warp around it. The weaker fires sputtered out, but the shadows seemed to absorb the shock. The Balrog stumbled forward a step, but paid the Firedrake no mind, opting instead to continue chasing Garble.

"—did jack shit, apparently." Spike turned back to Twilight, frowning. "Well, I guess it's on to plan B."

Before Twilight could ask what plan B was, Spike drew two fingers to his mouth, whistling.

In a snap, two magicians were at their sides. Princess Luna greeted Twilight with a terse nod. The older gentleman Twilight vaguely recognized, but if he was surprised to see her, he didn't show it.

"Alright," Spike said, rolling on the balls of his feet. "Force isn't going to work. A concussive blast is too weak to counter the density of the shadows, and I'd rather not try anything more dangerous."

"Why not?" Luna said, frowning. "We are pressed for options as it is."

"Because," Spike said, "even if I could make an explosion strong enough to kill it, it would be too dangerous. That fireball I threw? It's a pretty good gauge of what that thing can take, and nothing short of glassing these badlands is going to have a lasting effect."

Luna's frown cut even deeper, but she said nothing. Fancy Pants sighed, rubbing his temples. "I fear I am of limited use in this situation, but I will do what I can." He looked to Spike. "I assume you have a plan?"

Spike nodded. "It's simple: I need the three of you to throw up your strongest shields."

Twilight frowned. "Really? That seems kind of tame."

Princess Luna shifted. "What are you planning, Spike?" She looked uneasy, as if she had an inkling of what he was planning. If she did, it was plain to see that she didn't like it.

"I'm going to try blast-burning it," he admitted. "I need the explosion to be contained. This environment has housed a dormant demonic creature for centuries, and I think it's pretty obvious how much magic energy has charged the atmosphere here.

It was true. Even as Twilight stood there, she could feel the ambient buzzing of the badlands. It wasn't the warm, tender feel of Celestia's sun, or the hum of Spike's natural vitality; the atmosphere felt volatile and chaotic, as if someone had filled replaced the sky with methane.

"The shield," Spike continued, "is for containing the heat, and making sure the rest of this area doesn't suffer from a localized meltdown. Make sure to keep yourselves safe."

The three of them nodded, albeit reluctantly, and dashed to surround the creature.

Spike grasped Twilight by the shoulder, halting her. "I'm glad you came," he said, smiling awkwardly. "We might not have been able to do this with just two people." He paused, and to Twilight, it seemed as if he was weighing the choice of whether or not to tell her something.

"Spike," she warned, "we don't have much time."

"Right," he said, coming to his senses. Then, almost hesitantly, he leaned forward, surprising her with a kiss on her cheek. "It...it was nice to see you again."

Twilight felt like a bucket of ice water had been dumped over her head. "Spike?" she asked, reaching her hand out.

But he was already sprinting away.

Surely enough, the three spellcasters had summoned a mighty magical construct; a dome, three layers thick, large enough to encase the Balrog in a cage at least three times its size. It battered at the walls, but to no avail. Princess Luna grunted: her spell was the most powerful, and as such, the most consuming. For the moment, though, it held.

Spike leapt through a man-sized hole in the shield, slowing his breathing. He absently felt a pair of eyes on his back, burning. He called out to Garble, "I'd close my eyes, if I were you."

Squaring his shoulders, he pooled all of his magic into a single point: the ruby on his chest. A harsh scarlet light fell over the mountains, coating everything in a flickering light.

Luna's eyes widened, her stance slackening. "Stop!" She yelled, shaking. She inched her way toward her pupil, only for her shield to waver. Cursing, her stopped, but kept her eyes on her student. "Spike!" she screamed, "Do not do this!"

If her could hear her, he paid her no mind. Spike concentrated all his focus into one command, one thought that was his answer to every time he'd been ignored or unwanted.

"Burn."

Luna cursed, biting her tongue until she tasted blood. She had to avert her eyes, so bright were the ebbing flames on the inside of the magical structure.

Why do I keep doing this to myself?

She was beginning to think that mentoring young minds was a hassle she wanted no part of. How did Celestia keep at it?

Just as she started to think of a way to fend off her sister's inevitable "I told you so", the flames subsided to a dull whisper.

Cursing her idiotic student, Luna dropped her spell as she ran towards Spike, stumbling slightly when she saw that he wasn't moving.

She slid to a halt when she reached him. Bending over, she tapped two fingers to his neck.

Twilight wasn't far behind her. The magician's face was flushed from the effort of the magic, but the sight before her was enough to turn her face pale. "What's wrong?"

Luna felt a pulse. Sighing in relief, she said, "He's asleep."

Twilight heaved a heavy sigh, shuddering. "Thank goodness. For a second there, I thought-"

The Princess tensed. Spike's breathing was regular, and his body temperature was as it should be. But his pulse was coming at half the pace it should be, even when he was unconscious.

Now Fancy Pants was at her side. "Something's wrong," he said, frowning.

Luna felt a migraine coming on, and she rubbed her temples. "He's asleep."

The Ones Who Wish You The Best Part 3

Spike awoke to the smell of smoke.

Blearily, he sat up, realizing that he was in a bed. Looking around, he saw that he was in the ever-familiar loft of the library, in the same bed that he shared with Twilight.

"Look who finally decided to wake up," said a grumbling voice.

Somehow, when Spike looked up and saw Garble sitting at his bedside, he wasn't surprised or angry. Probably because he couldn't find the energy to be either.

Resisting a yawn, the younger man looked up at his counterpart. "Hey."

Garble fidgeted, crossing and uncrossing his arms, saying nothing.

Finally, after an awkward, seemingly incessant silence, Garble said, "Your buddy told me about you."

Spike blinked, uncomprehending.

"The blue-haired old guy," Garble said, pointedly not looking at Spike. "Said you weren't raised right."

The younger drake said nothing, only fixing Garble with a disappointed stare that the older man couldn't help but feel burning his face.

"Look, it's not-" he struggled to say, then sighed. "I'm not really good with talking to other guys like this."

Join the club, Spike thought, though he said nothing.

"It's just...I get it." Garble rubbed his forehead. "I was getting on you about not acting like the rest of us, and now I found out why." He snorted half-heartedly. "If my folks ever screwed me over like that, I wouldn't want to be a dragon either. You'll get people telling you to grow the fuck up, that dads leave, or whatever." He snorted. "They don't know what it means for a dragon, though."

Spike only nodded, which seemed to encourage the older dragon. "It's just that, ya know, up until I met G and everything, I hated humans. Couldn't stand the fuckers. So weak and stupid, and they don't even care about the same shit that we do."

"We?" Spike asked weakly. Since when was there a we? As far as he was concerned, the 'we' had ended over seven years ago.

"Dragons," Garble clarified. "And I'm not being racist about it or anything. I don't know much about humans, yeah, but I know dragons." He waved an arm in frustration. "Like, even now, she's always asking why I'm always throwing shit out or why I don't 'socialize' or whatever . And it blows my mind that she just doesn't get it. I hate clutter. I hate worthless shit. I hate worthless people.

"And if there's one thing a dragon knows, it's the value of something. That's why I don't like being around her people." He barked in laughter. "Probably why I don't have any fucking friends."

Spike's breathing deepened, and he could feel the fatigue claiming him.

"And when you say something about it, they look at you like you're a fly in the fucking soup. You're the wrong color and you shouldn't be there. You get it, right?"

Spike looked over to him, eyes widening, and though he said nothing, Garble felt a vague sense of agreement emanating from him.

"Look, I'm not a bad guy," Garble said. "It's just that I work different." His face, for the briefest of seconds, looked somber, even lonely. "I love my girl."

But his voice was already fading from Spike's memory. A glance from the corner of his eyes told him of a door being opening, and a pair of feminine legs racing towards the bed...

Like a voice speaking underwater, he heard Garble say, "But they're not like us. They don't get it."

"Look up."

Spike stirred from his rest. He heard a faint buzzing, the rustle of an ancient tree behind him.

Regardless of the stiffness in his neck, he obeyed, glancing Fancy Pants' form from the corner of his eye.

The stars in the sky and the heavy presence of humidity told him that it was nighttime.

"What do you see?" asked the older man.

"Stars," Spike said. His voice was hoarse, as if he hadn't used it in quite some time. He chuckled lightly. "Cause you're a sky, cause you're a sky full of stars."

"Who sings that?" Fancy Pants asked.

"Coldplay, I think."

"Hmm. Maybe you should let them."

Spike frowned. The fuck, man?

"A man who was dear to me once," he said, "dearer than my own father asked me that same question when I was your age." Fancy Pants sighed, and Spike suddenly realized that they were on the upper porch of the library. "I gave him the same answer, naturally."

"So it was the wrong answer?" Spike asked.

"Oh no, there was never any right answer," Fancy Pants answered, leaning back in a plain green lawn chair. "He told me that the answer reflects the person." He chuckled. "I suppose that meant that you and I are severely lacking in creativity."

Spike was silent for a moment, pondering. Then, "What did he see?"

Fancy Pants shrugged. "God. Possibility. The people in his life who stood out above the rest. It was a long time before I thought to ask him, actually. When you get to be older, you find meaning in things, whether you imagine them there or not."

"Do you believe in God?" Spike asked. It was an innocent question.

"It makes sense to me," Fancy Pants said, nodding. "To some, it may not. But I can only know myself so well, eh?" He stretched, reaching for a glass of water that was beside him. "It seems to me that—pardon," he took a sip, "—that everything seems to happen for a reason, if you will allow the cliché. Fate, I think," Fancy Pants said, motioning in the air like a teacher, "is like a star falling from space: the more important it is, the heavier it is. And the heavier it is,"

"The harder it is to stop?" Spike guessed.

"Precisely," Fancy Pants answered. He smirked wryly. "I wonder which ours were, sometimes."

"Our what?"

"Our fates," he answered simply. "If my parents and yours had been decent, how different would the world be?" He tugged absently on the tufts of his mustache. "Would we be the same men? Would I have a family of my own? Would you have your same friends? Or are some things set in stone?" He sighed. "Were you always going to end up here?"

Spike found he couldn't think of an answer, and wondered if the older man's questions were simply rhetorical.

"Who knows," he murmured. "Maybe I'm just getting old."

Spike yawned. "You're in your mid-thirties, dude."

As he faded back to sleep, he heard Fancy Pant's sigh break the silence. "Maybe things weren't so bad after all."

He stirred.

Looking around, he noticed the heavy warmth of a comforter, draping over him and nearly tugging him into what appeared to be an armchair.

Something twitched, and he realized belatedly that he wasn't alone.

Long fingers ran with practiced motion through his hair, another hand clutched gently at his side.

The high pitch of a blizzard whistled outside, muffled by the wood of the library, save for the occasional creak of wind on glass. A pleasant fire, warm and unobtrusive.

Spike started to mumble his confusion, but stopped once he felt the gentle press of a finger on his jaw line.

"Hush now," said a low, comforting voice. "Quiet now." A swath of pink tickled his collarbone, and a shifting of a thigh tucked him into her side.

Spike obliged, feeling the fatigue take him as he curled into the warmth that was Fluttershy.

"Hey," said a familiar voice.

Spike blinked, feeling the torpidity that follows a long, exhausting rest. He blinked the crust from his eyes and looked to his side.

"Twilight?" he asked, yawning.

She nodded, smiling tiredly.

"How long have I been asleep?"

Twilight sighed, leaning forward and rubbing her eyes, which was not a good sign in any language. "Princess Luna said that you exhausted your body with that stunt you pulled. You came this close to dying," she said, a hint of reproach entering her voice.

Spike said nothing, deciding to stare at the wood grain on the ceiling. He saw that he had returned to the loft.

"She said that you were extremely lucky that your lifespan had already stretched, because the excess magic you built up is gone, along with mostly everything else." She frowned. "Dragons are inherently magical creatures, so when your body was suddenly drained of so much energy, it went straight into hibernation so you wouldn't be traumatized from the shock."

"How long, Twilight?" He repeated, feeling a familiar shock of electricity coiling in his stomach.

"Eight months," she answered, wearily. "We think it's stopping, though."

The familiar feeling of guilt weighed Spike down, until he felt like crashing through the bed and hiding his face from his friend. He covered his face with his hands, shivering. "I'm sorry," he said.

Twilight blinked. "For what?"

Don't make me say it, he thought, grimacing inwardly, but he answered anyway. "For making you worry." It seemed like a paltry apology, but he knew he couldn't do better. "I'm sorry," he repeated.

"So, you don't think I don't want you around anymore?" she asked.

Spike dropped his hands, staring at her. "What?"

Twilight was smirking, the same sarcastic smirk she'd always wear when she got the better of him. Seeing it, Spike couldn't help but feel a smile of his own coming on.

He blinked, noticing for the first time Twilight's attire. "Why are you wearing a dress?"

Twilight looked down, as if recognizing the outfit for the first time. "Oh, this?" she asked, fingering the white knee-length sundress fringed with purple. "Garble and Gilda got married a while back, and they were short on bridesmaids." She tried to smile, but the look on Spike's face made it hard. "I needed something to wear today," she said, weakly.

Spike said nothing, laying back on the bed and breathing heavily.

"Spike?"

"I'm fine, I'll be fine," he said, trying not to let his situation stress him. What would Celestia do? he tried asking himself, but for once, he couldn't focus hard enough for the question to do him any good.

Finally, he thought, What would I do?

His breathing calmed, and he looked at Twilight. He didn't try for a smile, because he knew his mood was still sour. "How's everyone else doing?"

Twilight looked surprised, and for a disturbing moment, Spike thought he saw a wrinkle on her face. She can't be getting old yet, he thought, not her. Then she shifted, and he was relieved to see that it was a trick of the light.

"Rarity was a little miffed when she found out about you and the Crusaders," she said, and her tone was devoid of inflection, "but she's mellowed out. Pinkie Pie and Fluttershy are fine. Rainbow Dash has been trying to patch things up with Gilda, and Applejack comes by every day to check on you." She smiled, though it didn't reach her eyes. "I'm glad you two made up."

Spike nodded. "How are you doing?" When Twilight opened her mouth, no doubt to say I'm fine, he interjected, saying, "And not what you tell the others. How are you really doing?"

Twilight was shocked, then hesitant. She studied the floor, and as she wasn't concentrated on making her friend feel better, the stress of the past months seemed to play out on her face. She was cringing as if in pain, rubbing her arms and looking anywhere but at Spike.

Finally, she said, "I feel upset." She looked down at Spike, frowning heavily. "What the hell were you thinking? You know how I worry about you, and Luna's going to give you hell once she realizes you're up!" Twilight was shaking, though whether it was with grief or anger, Spike couldn't tell. "And now I'm going to have to cover for you again, and then I'm going to have both her and Celestia going after me because they think I don't know what I'm doing with you!"

"I can handle myself," Spike said weakly.

"That's just it, you can't!" Twilight shrieked, eyes wide and angry. "You always do stupid things like this, like you're still a dumb little kid, and I'm the one stuck cleaning the mess up!" Her fingers pointed at him like talons. Spike jerked as they moved towards him, but Twilight, seeming to try and keep herself in check, clutched them to her side instead. "You—ooh," she said, nervous with anger. "You make me so mad sometimes, Spike." She exhaled heavily, and Spike could swear he saw steam.

"Let it all out yet?" Spike asked dryly, knowing it would drive her crazy. His inner bastard couldn't help but laugh.

He wasn't disappointed. Twilight drew herself up, and he could see her eyes flicker white momentarily. "No, as a matter of fact, I haven't." She leaned closer to him, menacing. "I've got something to say to you, something that I should have said a long time ago."

Leaning back, Spike cringed away from his former caretaker's face. "What?"

Twilight looked mad enough to spit fire, and Spike was half-expecting her to. But just as she reared up, she seemed to back down. "Do, uh...do you think we should get a bigger bed?"

Spike blinked. "Huh?"

Twilight retreated back to her side of the mattress. "I mean, if you're going to be staying here and all, a twin isn't really the best size for us."

Us.

Spike's mind jumped back to the conversation he had with Princess Luna months ago, about Celestia's hopes that he and Twilight would...

"Oh!" he said, startling Twilight by nearly shouting, "I'm not really sure, I mean, Luna's gonna have me running around a lot once she finds out I'm up, you know?"

Twilight merely stared. "Oh."

"But," he tried to backtrack, failing terribly, "I can still visit you whenever you want." He smiled awkwardly. "I can teleport now, remember?"

Twilight seemed to brighten up. "That's true, I guess. So, this spell—"

"Is not for booty-calls," he finished.

The purple-haired magician made a show of snapping her fingers in disappointment. Spike laughed. "Darn," she said, "it was just what I wanted, too."

Spike smirked. "I'm here, aren't I?"

Twilight froze. "I was kidding. We should really get you something to eat. In the kitchen."

"S'matter?" Spike said, reaching over and pulling her around the waist onto the bed. "It's not like either of us has an appointment to keep." He felt Twilight shudder as his arm rested just above the curve of her hips.

"We can't."

"What do you mean?"

Twilight rubbed her temples, groaning as she grasped a corner of the bed frame.

Trying to marshal her thoughts as she spoke, Twilight said, "We can't keep having...relations." She shifted awkwardly in her dress. "You're going to be really, really well-known in a couple of months, and if word got out that we were, you know..." She trailed off, then seemed to regain some measure of nerve. "I never wanted to be your girlfriend, you know that." She sighed. "It was...convenient. You know?"

A pause. "Yeah, I got it."

Twilight looked up at him. "Spike?"

He smiled, the same deceivingly arrogant yet companionable smirk that only a lovable moron like Spike could produce.

"All I really wanted was to hang out, you know. Not complaining," he said, holding his hands up in defense, "but hey, you jumped my bones."

Twilight laughed, feeling her face warm.

"There is...one thing, though," he said, almost unintelligible.

"Hmm?" Twilight asked. An anxious knot started to form in her chest.

"Luna said you never came to visit when I was hibernating." He looked up at her, suddenly vulnerable. "How come?"

Twilight was slow, hesitant even, in giving an answer. Finally, when it seemed as if she would remain silent, she said, "I did visit you, once. Princess Luna is still responsible for governing the country, so she wasn't with you all the time."

Spike said nothing, waiting for her to continue.

Sighing, she said, "Hibernation isn't like sleeping. There's barely any breathing, not much body movement, and you don't get much sun. By the time I finally managed to see you, you were pale, like a—a corpse." She met his eyes, albeit sheepishly. "I didn't want that image in my mind whenever I thought of you."

The drake felt a well of guilt spring up, though he knew it was irrational. "But then, when I went under this last time, you saw me like that—"

"Every single day," she finished. Her stare was blank.

Spike sighed, hanging his head. "I never meant to put you through that, Twilight. I never knew I'd turn out to be such a terrible person."

Frowning, Twilight reached out, grasping her partner's rough hand, silently marveling at how much bigger it was than hers. "No, Spike. You're not a terrible person. You're a terrific person. You're my favorite person." She saw a reluctant smile break out onto his face, and they embraced. "But every once in a while, you can be a real cunt."

Spike laughed, hugging her tighter. "You finally watched Kill Bill."

"I did."

Opening the door to the fridge, Spike whistled a tune as he searched for something to make for breakfast.

Morning had come, and he was anxious to be on his way. People to catch up with, demi-goddesses to plead for his life from, et cetera.

"Twiliiiiight!" he called. "We're out of moo juice!"

"The heck is moo juice?" She called back, from her study.

"The white creamy stuff that comes out when you juice a cow!"

Silence.

Then, "Do you mean milk?"

"Well yeah, if you wanna take all the fun out of it," he mumbled.

"There's some grocery money in the jar on the fridge, go get some," she called.

"Sure thing," he replied. He reached to the top of the refrigerator, grasping the jar, and pocketed the coins.

Making his way toward the door, he was surprised when the bell rang.

Who's that at this hour?

He opened the door, and found himself facing a familiar dizzy-eyed mail woman.

She grinned.

"Twiliiiiight!" Spike called. "How do you file a restraining order?"

"What are you going on about this time?" She snapped, strolling out into the main room. "If this is some kind of jo—HEY! NO!" She conjured a squeeze bottle, brandishing it at the mail woman who had latched onto her assistant. "Shoo! SHOO!"

Pinkie Pie hummed, sweeping clean the front porch of Sugar Cube Corner. She wore a pink shirt and light grey sweatpants. Opening time was fast approaching, and she could hardly wait for the first customers to arrive. Life was just boring without other people around!

She wasn't disappointed for long.

Hearing the footfall of an approaching person, she looked up. Gasping with surprise, she pressed her hands up to the side of her face. "Spike! You're not dead!"

Spike was sprinting across Pinkie's field of vision, wearing a purple button up and shorts. A medium-sized backpack was all he carried. He looked around until he saw her, "Hey Pinkie, now's not a really good time to-SHIT!"

He slipped over his own feet, wheeling around until he fell onto his back and hit the ground, hard.

WHAM!

The backpack exploded, showering Spike's back with milk.

Pinkie Pie blinked. "Why are you running around town carrying milk?"

"I think I'm being followed by my local mailwoman."

"No, I mean why are you carrying milk in your backpack?"

Spike scrunched his nose. "What kind of barbarian doesn't have milk in their house?"

Pinkie Pie shrugged. "Can't argue with that." She gasped, jumping in place. "Your birthday!"

Spike stared at her. "What about it?"

She continued to hop in place. "Your birthday passed while you were asleep! Come inside, come inside!" She spun around, opening the partition to the bakery.

Spike rolled his eyes, but followed anyway. "Anything that keeps me from getting molested."

Pinkie Pie stopped just inside the doorway. "Oh." She paused. "Well, come on anyway!"

"What do you need in here?" Spike asked, absently wringing the liquid from his shirt.

"Well," Pinkie Pie said, stretching the word out, "someone's missed out on four years of birthday presents so far, haven't they?" She winked obviously at him, nudging him in the stomach.

"Five, actually." Spike said, shrugging.

"Five?" Pinkie said, cocking her head.

"Yeah, that one time I stopped by the bakery and baked a cake by breathing fire on it. That was my birthday."

"It was?" Pinkie said, cocking her head even further, at nearly a forty-five degree angle.

"It was," Spike said, slightly perturbed. "I was surprised you forgot."

Pinkie Pie mouthed silently for a moment, then sputtered. "Spike, I was high that entire day! Didn't you notice?"

"What?!" he barked, incredulously.

"Yeah! I was wondering why there was a party set up in Sugar Cube Corner, because I totally didn't remember setting it up. Turns out I did, but I forgot because Dashie and I were getting lifted out back!"

Spike slapped his palms to his face. "Oh my God." He looked up. "Mrs. Cake said you went to Cloudsdale!"

Now Pinkie was the one who looked incredulous. "Codeword, Spike." She mimed smoking a blunt. "Cloudsdale?"

Spike rubbed his eyelids tiredly. "No wonder." He stared at Pinkie. "Speaking of cake, did that thing with the aphrodisiac ever wear out?"

It took Pinkie a minute to remember. "Oh! Funny thing, actually. Twilight sent you a couple blank letters while you slept so you'd breathe fire, and she ran a test over what was in it."

"And?"

Pinkie shrugged. "Dragon aphrodisiac just makes anal feel better."

Spike squinted. "Really? How does that work?"

"It's magic, yeah?"

He shrugged. "I guess. So you guys weren't really changed at all?"

Pinkie shook her head. "Nope! Turns out we're just whores."

Skillfully hiding his laugh behind a cough, Spike recovered, asking, "So, not to sound rude, but presents?"

"Oh yeah!" Pinkie slapped herself on the forehead, moving from the entryway to behind the counter. She ducked down, searching for something. "How long are you staying, anyway?"

Spike pondered the question, placing his arms behind his head nonchalantly. "Beats me. Luna's probably going to be here for me sometime today."

A pause in the rustling behind the counter. "How do you figure?"

"I'm not asleep, so she probably knows I'm better now."

"Bummer." Pinkie Pie jumped up, plopping herself on the counter, holding what appeared to be a cassette tape. "I was going to invite you to a night of insane sex and partying, but I guess you'll just have to settle for this mixtape."

Spike stared at her. "I can do quick."

Pinkie Pie raised an eyebrow, smiling. "Phrasing, much?"

Sighing heavily, Spike took the mixtape, ignoring the pat his friend gave him on the back as he walked out of the shop.

"Seeya, Spike!" she waved, jubilantly. "Come back and visit soon!"

Spike waved back halfheartedly, slinging his backpack around so as to keep the mixtape protected. He glanced over the title of the tape: Songs I'll Fuck Your Brains Out To, Vol. 1.

He broke down in the street, falling to his knees and weeping bitter, salty tears.

The Ones Who Wish You The Best Part 4

Spike sighed, moving to go sit by a bench overlooking a nearby park.

Almost as soon as he took his seat, though, he felt an unfamiliar buzz coming from his pocket. He fished out his phone, pondering at the unfamiliar number.

He pressed the answer button, holding the phone up to his ear. "Hello?"

"What's good, skank?" a voice called, slightly fuzzy.

Spike wrinkled his nose, though he knew his mystery caller would be blind to it. "Excuse me?"

"Cheer up, sunshine. Doesn't my voice ring any bells?"

"Not really," he grunted.

"You helped my girlfriend and I find our collective contacts," she said.

Spike's mind wandered for a moment. Then, "Lyra?"

"Bingo. What's up? You haven't answered your phone in months. Me and Bon thought you were dead or something."

"I was in a coma, actually," he said, adopting a tone of sarcasm. "But thanks for checking up on me, you know, just really good job there."

"Missed you too, babe." Lyra returned. "But since you're feeling better—"

"Are you seriously going to booty call me right after I got out of a coma?"

"Are you seriously turning down an offer to absolutely destroy me and BonBon if she's up for it maybe?" she shot back.

"I'm not exactly at liberty to continue a threeway with my favorite lesbians, no."

There was a scoff. "Joke's on you, bitch. BonBon's the dyke, not me."

Spike grimaced at her harshness. "Really? Because I thought it was pretty heavily implied that you were gay."

"Dude, it's BonBon. No one's that straight."

Spike snorted. "Well, color me surprised. Does she know she's been tongue-punching a straight woman?"

"Spike, buddy, come on. Loose lips and all that."

He rolled his eyes. "Sure thing."

"So, that's a no on the boinking?"

"Maybe? My..." he hesitated, "boss is probably going to be pissed at me."

"Pfft, right, like your boss can tell you who you can and can't sleep with."

Spike held his breath.

"You're shitting me."

"I shit you not." He rubbed his neck out of habit, absently noting the people walking by, glancing at him. "I, uh, was kind of responsible for the whole coma thing."

"What? What have you been doing since I last saw you?" Lyra cried, incredulous.

Spike took a moment to recollect, and then another to phrase them. Then, "I came back to my old town, slept with the librarian, got a footjob in the bar, had a threeway with a bumpkin and rich girl, knocked boots with an athlete in a back-alley, got in a fight with another dragon, got crippled and lost my fire, ended up in the hospital, cuddled with a masculine cowgirl, ran away from a wolf, pissed off the local witch-doctor, slept with the same bumpkin from before and her two childhood friends, beat up the wolf from before, had a dream where I almost got sodomized, stole a priceless ruby from some gangsters, got my fire back, partnered up with the librarian, a princess, and a father-figure who turned out to be Arch Mage, and burned a fire demon that I may have been responsible for waking up."

There was a gravid silence on Spike's end. Just when he was about to speak up, he heard:

"You're a DRAGON?"

Rainbow Dash huffed as she trotted down the park's cobbled path, engrossed in her late morning jog. The familiar tightness in her calves was a welcome sensation, the runner's high beginning to hit its stride even as she strode through the grove of her home. She wore a form-fitting work-out shirt and running shorts, marked only by a thin layer of sweat from the sun's heat.

She meandered throughout the park, silently enjoying the shifting of her body like the finely-tuned machine that it was. She took care of her body, and felt genuinely sorry for every poor bastard that had the misfortune of not being the sex goddess that was Rainbow Dash.

Damn, I rock, she thought to herself.

She blinked as she heard a familiar voice off to her side, and glanced over.

"Spike?"

Surprised, he looked up, searching with his eyes until he saw her. "Dash, hey!"

Growling, she marched up to him. "Don't you 'Dash, hey' me, you gorgeous prick." She slapped him in his mouth, prompting an indignant protest from her victim. "Everyone was worried sick when you ended up in the hospital, again."

"Maybe I was trying to beat your record," he shot back.

Her runner's high was forgotten, replaced by an angry, hot itch that rose to her cheeks. "And that's not even the worst of it. The Princess may be about to rip you a new asshole when she finds you, but once Rarity finds out you're up, she's going to fuck that hole with a chainsaw doused in fire."

The corner of Spike's mouth turned upward, the bastard. "Graphic. Did you plan that one?"

"I've been saving it," she returned.

Spike held her gaze for a while longer, then sighed. "Look, contrary to what everyone else keeps giving me shit for, I knew what I was doing."

She snorted. "Could've fooled me."

He stared at her. "Hey Dash, here's an idea. Maybe I know I've made nothing but poor decisions since I got back, and I'm trying to do better."

She crossed her arms and stared at his chest. "Yeah, well, tough shit. Today's not a safe day, and I refuse to talk about my feelings, so I'm staying pissed at you."

Spike continued to eye her, none-too-subtly looking her up and down. Finally, he said, "Why are you really mad at me?"

Dash stared, sullen because of the sour turn her day had taken. "I was scared for you," she admitted, then turned and walked away, upset.

With a bitter taste in his mouth, Spike wandered through town.

He knew Dash was just being her usual stubborn self, but that didn't make him feel any better.

The sooner Luna comes for me, the better, he grumbled to himself.

He caught a glance of the Crusaders from across town, and they waved, beaming, but appeared busy. He returned the gesture, feeling bittersweet.

He met with Applejack at her stall, but even a friendly hug and words of encouragement on her part did little to improve his mood.

Granted, Dash wasn't the only reason for his disposition.

While he had been talking with Applejack, he'd had the familiar sensation of a prick on his neck, as if someone was watching him.

Glancing around, he'd scanned the marketplace until he found her.

Rarity.

She'd been on the opposite side of the marketplace, sitting down at a cafe table, lips wrapped around a straw submerged in vanilla milkshake. She was wearing a black blazer and pencil skirt, and though her eyes were hidden by a pair of matching Burberry's, Spike knew that she was staring him down.

Seeing that he had finally noticed her, she released the straw, and with exaggerated slowness, folded her fingers into a bridge and simply looked at him, giving him her full attention.

Looking back on it, it was exactly the kind of cliche behavior he'd come to suspect from Rarity, but he was unnerved just the same.

"Hey," he whispered to Applejack, "Forced castration is illegal, right?"

He was halfway back to the library when she caught him.

As he darted from house to house, trying to remain out of sight, he felt a tingling sensation at the cuff of his pants. A second later, he was planted face-first into the ground.

Before he could react, he was flipped over. Spike only caught a quick glimpse of Rarity's face before his vision turned white.

"Just so you know," a familiar voice rang into Spike's still smarting ears, "I was incredibly distraught when you went under."

Spike's head lolled to and fro, steadying only when he came to his senses. Blinking the stars out of his eyes, he waited until his vision adjusted to his darkened surroundings. It took him a moment to realize that he was staring at the inside of Rarity's bedroom, a place he'd seen only sparingly.

"But, well, Sweetie Belle never was much for keeping secrets." A pair of bright blue eyes moved in front of Spike, scrutinizing him. "I was understandably upset at first, but after a while, everything more or less settled."

"I—" A stinging slap struck his face, stunning him into silence and leaving his cheek smarting.

"I am talking. Do not speak." Rarity stared at him, silent but furious. Now that she stood in front of him, Spike saw that she was dressed in her same outfit from before. "I thought you were better than that."

Spike glared at her, feeling a taut force around his ribs, realizing he was bound with ropes to a chair. Kind of pointless, considering how strong he was, but Rarity was all about atmosphere.

Continuing her apparently planned monologue, Rarity pulled up a stool, resting an elbow on her knee and laying her head into her open palm, reminiscent of a thinking pose. "I mean, it's not like I saw it coming, but I really should have, considering your poor decision-making skills and Sweetie's unprecedented thirst." She tapped a finger to her chin. "Granted, my sister is capable of making her own decisions, but I was under the impression that there was an understanding between you and I."

Spike grunted. "News to me."

Rarity pursed her lips in a frown, but didn't strike him again.

"Do you want to know what I think?"

"I know you'll tell me."

"Shut up. I think that, after all you've done since you've come back, you haven't learned a single thing." She smirked when Spike's gaze turned indignant. "A hit dog will holler."

Before Spike could retort, she turned serious again. "Why did you seek out my sister and not me? You must have known that I would've said yes, eventually."

"I know," he grunted. "And I didn't 'seek her out'. She and her friends offered me a gauntlet of poontang, so I agreed."

"You didn't answer my question."

"You're not just some pretty face, Rarity."

"And my sister is?"

"You should know by now that we're not doing the friends-with-benefits thing."

"News to me," she muttered. If he heard her, he didn't indicate it.

"Should've known you were into S&M."

The seamstress stammered for a moment, before finally regaining her composure. "Why does everyone say that? I've never so much as touched a riding crop!"

"Fine then," Spike said, shifting in his seat. "Just untie me and—"

"You are not leaving here until I am done with you," she said sharply.

Spike rolled his eyes. "Yeah, like you're going to stop me. I'll just burn right through these—shit." Of course she took his gem, she wouldn't be so stupid as to leave it there. Without it he wouldn't be escape his bindings with magic.

"You were saying?" Rarity said, smiling beatifically.

"I still have my strength," he growled, tensing his muscles. The ropes started to give, but they were in no hurry to snap.

Rarity frowned, moving forward. "You can't break those ropes without cutting into skin. They're magic."

Spike ignored her, concentrating on his efforts to snap his bindings. True to what she had said, the ropes began to tug onto his skin, but the thickness of his body's flesh made the pain all but unnoticeable.

Rarity's frown increased in size. Not only would he destroy the ropes soon enough, but he'd likely destroy her chair with all the force he was exerting.

Ever the strategist, the seamstress moved her hands to her collar, shrugging off her blazer and deftly unbuttoning her blouse, until it hung open and her black bra was showing.

Spike stopped immediately. "What are you doing?"

"Undressing. I would've thought it was obvious."

"I can see that—"

"Oh, I bet you can."

"—I just don't see why!"

Rarity smiled, though there was no real charm in her face. "You're obviously determined to be difficult. I can be difficult too."

"I've noticed."

"So," she said, "I've decided to make things more interesting. For every question you don't answer honestly, I will remove one piece of clothing." She sharpened her gaze. "And as you know, I have a very keen eye."

Spike stared her in the face. "And what do you think that will accomplish?" He was defiant, but Rarity could detect a hint of hysteria seeping into his voice.

Rarity cleared her throat, a hand on her hip. "The fact that you haven't pursued me, and yet maintain that you haven't lost your attraction, seems to mean that either you are lying, which I doubt, or," and here she tapped her cheek in a gesture of contemplation, "Or, you're scared of being at my mercy."

"I—" Spike started to speak, but hesitated, eventually falling silent.

For all of his growth, to Rarity, he looked every part the intimidated young boy from so many years ago.

Brushing aside her nostalgia, she knelt down so that the two of them were eye-to-eye. "Why did you leave?"

Despite their proximity, Spike looked away, stubbornly refusing to look at her. Sighing, Rarity shrugged her blouse from her shoulders, her shoulders bare.

Spike swallowed, determined to look anywhere but at her body.

"Please dear," she sighed, "don't be difficult." She reached a hand forward, rubbing his neck until he relaxed and his muscles lost their tensity.

Finally, speaking lowly, he said, "I felt like I wasn't needed anymore."

Rarity frowned. "You had to know that wasn't true."

Spike shrugged halfheartedly. "Yeah, so? Feeling like that, day-in, day-out, do you know what that does to you? I mean, try to see things from my point of view, Rarity. I'm only friends with the people I know now because Twilight knew them first. For all I know, I'm never going to do anything other than be Twilight's assistant, and then what? Everyone knows I'm going to outlive her, and what was I going to do with myself then?"

Rarity sighed. "Unfortunately, it seems that you thought this out, which makes it much more difficult to be upset with you."

Spike stared at her with some measure of relief and incredulity. "You didn't think I just decided to leave on a whim, did you? If there's anything I learned from Twilight, it's planning."

"Did you tell her?"

He shook his head. "Not all of it. Twilight gets all clingy and emotional whenever someone mentions how I'm going to outlive her."

Can't say I'm surprised, Rarity thought to herself. "What did you expect to accomplish with appealing to Luna?"

"I'm a fire-breathing dragon, I'm going to live for hundreds of years, and on top of all that, I'm homeschooled." He snorted. "Not to mention I don't have a magic stamp on my ass that tells me what I'm good at. There are literally no other jobs for me that someone else couldn't do better."

"So, what," Rarity started, raising an eyebrow, "you felt lonely, so you ran off to be a personal soldier for a woman you barely knew?"

"Superhero," he muttered.

Resisting a shriek of frustration, Rarity clenched her hands together repeatedly, as if they were around her idiotic friend's throat. Restraining herself, she asked through clenched teeth, "Why?"

"Why not? I needed to get out, to go somewhere and breathe. Anywhere but here."

"But—"

"What did you think would happen?" He asked, grim-faced. "I stay here, work the library the rest of my life, and hope that maybe the two of us get together?" He shook his head. "I may be a jerk, but I deserve better than that."

Rarity crossed her arms, but said nothing.

"Now," he grunted against the rope, "let me out."

Rarity raised an eyebrow. "Why would I do that?"

"Because we both know you're not going to do anything to me. You may be pissed at me, but you're not the kind of person who'd risk our friendship to make a point."

Rarity stared at him, unfolding her arms. Her frown slowly morphed into a jubilant smile. Leaning forward, she wrapped her arms around his neck. "My dear, friendship has everything to do with it."

Contrary to what Spike expected, Rarity had no qualms about being open with her feelings. She had demonstrated as much immediately following their exchange:

"Do you see that chaise lounge, over there?"

"The chair? Yeah," Spike had said. "What about it?"

Hand glowing magic, Rarity levitated her captive from his chair, tightening the ropes around his back so that his arms remained tied together. "Normally," she said, "I would have scruples about doing things out of their proper order." She chuckled as she deposited Spike on the chair. "But, well, we've known each other so long, and darn it if I'm not fond of the pretty ones."

Spike fidgeted. "Are you doing this because of me and your sister?" His heart thundered in his chest as Rarity circled the chaise, just out of his field of vision.

"Not really," she admitted. "But as far as this pleasant little tête-à-tête goes, vengeance is the status quo." A soft, trained hand rubbed the base of Spike's skull, scratching the nape of his neck fondly. The hand vanished, replaced by a depression of the chair as Rarity hoisted herself onto the tender cushion, straddling Spike's waist with her thighs. "If you ask me, this was always going to happen. You and I, we're just too pretty to keep our hands off of each other for long." She lowered her head, staring him in the eye. "If you'll excuse my arrogance, there really was never anything else. You've always been mine. I've just never come to collect."

Spike raised an eyebrow, but didn't contest her point. "You'd make a good dragon," he said.

Rarity smirked. "I shall take that as a compliment. Now, you have one of two options. Leave now, and our friendship shall continue where it left off." She wiggled her hips to adjust herself.

If the pressure in his undergarments was any indication, Spike's erection was doing its damndest to murder his pants. "Or?" he asked, strained.

"Or, you can be a good boy and let me get this out of my system. The catch," she said, holding up a finger so that he could see, "is that you may not initiate any contact of your own accord."

"What?!"

"That's your punishment," Rarity said, nonchalant. She had the nerve to inspect her fingernails as she ignored his protests.

Simmering down, he sighed, bumping his head against the armrest. "Fine, you crazy cat lady."

Ignoring the slight, Rarity smiled, reaching forward and rubbing Spike's face with the palm of her hand. "You are my friend, Spike. Never forget that." Then she summoned a pair of scissors and deftly cut open his shirt. "And I am about to hit you with some next-level friendship."

She adjusted herself so that she was resting parallel to Spike on the chaise. Instead of starting off immediately, she simply stared at him openly, smiling.

"So," Spike coughed, embarrassed, "why a chair?"

"It's fuck-resistant," Rarity murmured.

"What?"

"I have never had another person share my bed. Not literally, at least." Her hand reached out to stroke his abdomen. "And until I am married, I never will." She gave him a squeeze. "Does that answer your question?"

Spike swallowed. "Kind of."

Rarity seemed content to continue staring, not moving except for an occasional blinking of the eyes and an unhurried massage of his torso.

Finally, she sighed, pulling herself closer to her partner. "I almost wish we could stay like this for the rest of the day."

Spike cast a sideways glance at her. "We could," he said, hesitantly.

Rarity sighed again, lifting herself so she rested just above Spike's head. "Unfortunately, both of us will have places to be."

"Rarity, come on," Spike urged. "I get why you want to do this, but can't we wait until the mood is right? Don't you want to do this the right way?"

The dressmaker stared at him, contemplating. "I've waited years. So no, not really." Then, grasping his chin with her fingers, she leaned in and kissed him full on the lips, and any resistance Spike had crumbled to dust. She smirked as she felt him shudder as she deepened their contact.

Her skilled tongue batted his inexperienced one about, aggressive but playful as she pushed and tugged at him. Her fingers raked across Spike's chest, clutching at his hardened muscles as she straddled his waist and tugged him up from the chaise, her hands pulling on the taut muscle of his back.

Without losing a beat, she rolled her hips into his crotch, relishing the bulge that proved her finesse. He let out a boyish groan, thrilling her and reminding her of the power she had always held over him. Slowing her gyrations so as not to end the fun too soon, she broke the kiss, moving to brush her lips against his collarbone. He spoke his shiver, and as Rarity inhaled the burgeoning scent of her friend, she felt him flex in frustration against the ropes that dug into his wrists.

"Frustrating, isn't it?" She murmured, teasing his sensitive neck with an open-mouthed kiss.

Spike groaned, spreading his legs and allowing his partner closer access. Rarity hummed as she felt the fullness of his erection press between her thighs.

Leaning back, the dressmaker untangled her hands from behind's Spike's back. Gently, she pushed him onto his back, before shrugging off her blouse and unhooking her black bra. Ever so slowly, she lowered her chest until it was mere inches from Spike's face. "Tug," she commanded, and moments later, the dark fabric was tugged from her shoulders by way of Spike's teeth, baring her breasts, full and pale.

Given his experience as far as sex was concerned, Rarity considered it high praise indeed that she could stun the young man just by being topless.

"It's really happening," he said, dazed.

"It's really happening!" Rarity confirmed, complete with jazz hands.

With cautious anticipation, Spike arched his back to reach Rarity's chest. Resting on his arms, he took one pert nipple into his mouth, reveling in the sensation of the soft, malleable flesh he massaged with his tongue. Rarity sighed, hugging him with her hips and absently combing his rough hair with her fingers. For a few moment's time, Rarity simply coasted on the pleasure of his attentions, communicating her pleasure through throaty moans. As he worked, Rarity traced a line from his neck to his stomach. A flirtatious grab to the groin and a thrust of the hips caused Spike to yelp into Rarity's breast, to her enjoyment.

Eager to keep her momentum, Rarity once again broke the contact, scooting forward on the chaise until her rear was level with Spike's head. He made to say something, but his speech was muffled by the fabric of the skirt.

Finally, he managed to convey, "I can't see anything."

"Experiment," Rarity suggested. He'd find out soon enough that she'd gone without undergarments today.

Tentatively, Spike's tongue explored in the dark. A questioning grunt came up from Rarity's hips.

"Those would be my thighs."

His tongue moved. "Uh?"

"Congratulations, you found my southern star. Didn't think you were that risque, really."

"Heugh!" His tongue moved again.

"There's a good man," she breathed, bracing herself against the armrest.

Spike's tongue meandered about her folds, seemingly content to torture them as their owner had tortured him. At seemingly random intervals, he would brush against her bump of flesh, only to stop as soon as he would get a reaction.

Rarity grunted at his teasing, nails curling into the chaise's fabric. She attempted to hasten his efforts by grinding into his mouth, but he wasn't persuaded. Frustrated, she groaned, saying "If you're not going to take this seriously—"

Apparently, Spike had been waiting for just such a moment for her temper to get the better of her. Rarity gasped as his tongue speared her insides, an invisible line of heat racing through Rarity's ~~meat pocket~~ womanhood.

The dressmaker bit into the armrest of the chaise, muffling a scream and wondering for the first time if letting a dragon with an extendable tongue eat her out was a smart choice.

Tapping into her magic, she brought her phone from a nearby end table, setting it to record as she placed it facing the two of them.

For a rainy day, she said to herself.

Finally, she allowed herself to go limp, draping herself over the edge of the chaise lounge while her partner assaulted every inch of her vagina.

She groaned, slapping the side of the chair, but Spike showed no sign of letting up. Her hips were shaking, and a coiling warmth in her stomach informed her of her approaching orgasm. Rarity had to muffle another scream as her partner's teeth brushed against her outer folds, his lips making a kissing gesture even as his tongue snaked through her body.

Her orgasm was powerful and immediate. A dull but blunt wave of pure pleasure mingled with heat roared through her body, sending her toes curling and the tips of her ears burning. She curled her hips around Spike's head, her walls clenching against his mouth. His steaming breath was a welcome sensation on her wet, trembling thighs.

Shaking and exhausted from her overwhelming orgasm, Rarity brushed her hair back from her sweat-slicked forehead. Switching positions was tiring, though she was determined to see their tryst through to its climax.

"Sit up," she breathed, once she had managed to come to a rest on her side.

Spike did as he was commanded, searching for Rarity's expression. His gaze darkened with satisfaction and lust when he saw her, sweating and disheveled. "What now?"

Taking a moment to compose herself, Rarity hiked back her skirt, exposing her reddened clit. "Finish it," she said, her voice low and husky.

With a wave of her hand, Spike's pants fell below his waist, resting at his calves.

Rarity's eyes bulged. "On second thought, don't finish it." She cringed. "I want my cervix to live."

Spike glanced at her. "What?"

Rarity scoffed. "What do you mean, 'what'? That thing could break mailboxes, I am not putting it inside of me."

Spike rolled his eyes. "I can't do anything about it, Rarity. No magic means I can't shrink it."

Rarity blinked. "Why would you ever shrink it?"

"So I don't have to lift weights every time I go to the bathroom." Spike would've rubbed his eyes if his hands were free. "I'm actually average as far as dragons go."

"Somehow," Rarity said, skeptical, "I find that hard to believe."

"Dragon women top out at seven feet, bodies proportional." He stared at her. "If I were any smaller, it'd be like throwing a hot dog in a grocery bag."

Rarity scrunched her nose at the comparison. "Point taken."

She stared at the colossus that dared call itself a penis, and contemplated her choices.

Pro: this was an opportunity that only adult stars and their ilk could ever know.

Con: she would look like a little girl trying to pass as a woman if she couldn't handle it.

Pro: Spike might be a tease, but he was always gentle when it mattered.

Con: if she didn't conduct herself properly, she would probably die.

"I'll do it," she murmured to herself.

Spike rested upright, back to the chaise, as Rarity tried to find a suitable position that gave her a modicum of control. Finally, she settled on taking Spike's place on the chair, controlling his hips with her left hand and grasping his neck with her right.

"Slowly," she grunted, guiding his member with magic. Her hand gave his buttocks a squeeze, before pulling him towards her. His tip slipped into her without preamble, eliciting a gasp from the two of them. Cautiously, Rarity edged her partner ever deeper, stopping every once in a while to breathe and wipe her face on the remains of Spike's shirt.

"Stop, stop, stop," she groaned, placing both hands on Spike's chest to halt his movement.

"Are you okay?" Spike asked, concerned.

"I can't fit it all," she said, sweating. She wiped her forehead, disappointed.

"That's less flattering than I thought it would sound," Spike admitted.

Rarity glared at him. "Not helping."

"Try angling your hips?"

"Do you know how vaginas work?"

"Lady," Spike warned, "you are going the right way for a cock-slap to the face."

"You wouldn't dare," Rarity challenged, scowling.

"Don't you tell me what I would or wouldn't slap with my cock."

Rarity held back a snort. "You are so immature."

"S'what I do," he replied.

The dressmaker puffed out her cheeks. "Alright then, let's give it another go." Once again spreading her legs, she gripped Spike's sides. They both groaned as he entered her, Rarity's womanhood gripping Spike's member tighter than a hyena with lockjaw.

Rarity's nails dug into Spike's back, causing him to frown. "Not so hard," he murmured into her ear.

She let up immediately, red-faced. "I'm sorry, did I hurt you?"

Spike scoffed. "You'd have to really work at it for it to hurt. I didn't want your nails to break."

Rarity glared at him. "My nails are the least of my concerns right now."

Spike only smirked, before gently moving his hips forward. "You ready?"

"I've been ready," Rarity replied, rolling her eyes, smirking. Both her hands rested on Spike's rear.

"Aw yeah," Spike said, rolling his eyes in return, "that's how Daddy likes it."

"Oh, shut up already," she groaned. Her legs rested on the back of Spike's calves, idle. The two of them continued their lovemaking, Spike pumping into Rarity with middling strides. Slowly, they worked up to the majority of his girth. Despite his lack of exercise for a substantial amount of time, Spike for the most part retained his endurance. Rarity, still sensitive from earlier activity, panted with the effort. Her face was coated with a fine sheet of sweat, her breasts heaved with every thrust. Her hair was steadily becoming more and more unkempt, a sight Spike found satisfying and arousing in the extreme.

Rarity's hands dropped to her side, feeling as if they had become bars of molten lead. "I can't," she panted, exhausted. Motioning for Spike to continue, she laid her head back, mouth contorting with every movement that her partner made.

Rarity moaned, feeling her sensitive womanhood trace over every contour of Spike's cock, every throbbing vein. He pumped into her with increasing fervor, maintaining his stance despite being unable to brace himself with his hands. Rarity's pale white skin glistened with a sheen of sweat, her face flushed with blood. She whimpered quietly with every stroke, becoming lightheaded and uncomfortably warm. Her legs shaking, Rarity weakly reached up, grasping Spike's face and bringing him low for a deepened kiss.

Before she knew it, Rarity was building up to a second orgasm, weaker but pleasant. It was a lazy pleasure, trickling up her spine like a line of fire. She found it to be similar to drinking a strong glass of wine, warming her from the inside out.

Rarity's finger's clenched and unclenched, toes curling as the first wave of pleasure hit. She rolled her hips in time with the thrusts, pinching at Spike's hips with her thighs. Spike grunted, starting to sweat as his pulsing cock started to lose its rhythm, and Rarity knew he was close.

"Mouth," she moaned, wincing as Spike dislodged from her and somehow managed to stand up straight. He was redfaced, his heaving chest bearing a sheen of sweat.

Rarity leaned forward, hooking her hands around Spike's waist as she pulled him close. Her lips wrapped around his manhood, savoring the taste. She relished in his groans, and she was glad that she had taken the time to record their encounter.

Slowly, she eased him forward into her mouth, stopping midway down his length. She looked up at her partner, winking mischievously as she pursed her lips.

The effect was immediate.

Spike shuddered as he came, knees buckling as his twitching cock emptied itself, and eight months worth of semen made a glopping noise as it flowed endlessly into Rarity.

Rarity maintained eye contact the entire time, observing him as she held his throbbing member in her mouth. Her cheeks were rosy, but her satisfaction was evident in her cocky smile.

As she swallowed for the last time, Rarity wiped her mouth and grinned. "Next time, if you are good," she said between breaths, "you may use your hands."

Once his hands were free, Spike awkwardly donned his clothes, conscious of his friend's eyes on him.

Once he had pulled on his shirt, Rarity asked, "Remind me, what is your phone number?"

Wary, Spike gave her his number, in exchange for hers. "Do keep in contact, dear," she said, smiling.

"You realize you can't just summon me for a booty call, right?" he said, suspicious.

"You wound me, Spike." Rarity said, placing her hand over her heart in mock-hurt. Her wink broke the illusion. "I am a lady, first and foremost, after all."

"Alright then," he said, uncrossing his arms. A cautious smile broke out upon his face, so similar to that of the young boy from so many years ago that Rarity's own smile widened even further. "It was good seeing you again, Rarity."

"You're telling me," she said, embracing him tightly in a hug. It amused her that, despite his growth, the two of them were still more or less the same height. "Best wishes."

After he had gone, Rarity meandered into the bathroom, preparing to bathe before making dinner. She drew up a steaming hot bath, broke out her favorite bath salts, and retrieved her hidden stash of chocolate and wine from the chest near the bathtub.

Curvy figure be damned, she'd finally gotten laid and she was going to celebrate.

First things first, she thought to herself as she undressed, grabbing her phone. Striking a pose with a hand on her hip, she positioned the camera in front of herself and snapped a picture.

As she captioned it, "Happy Belated Birthday," and sent it to Spike, she chuckled, wondering how he would react.

"Are you happy?"

Spike shifted in the back seat of the royal limo. As he expected, Princess Luna had come by nightfall to collect him.

As he had also expected, she was less than pleased with him.

"It isn't enough that you endanger my country and plow the locals, oh no," she had ranted from the driver's seat, "but then you put yourself in a coma for eight months, and even when I come to get you, you reek of vagina." Her knuckles were white. "The only reason you still have your job is because no one else is capable of doing it!"

The tirade he could stand, if not for their company.

"Luna," Fancy Pants said.

"What?"

"I understand the importance of reprimanding one's underlings for their failures," he said, raising his hands as Luna angrily turned on him, "and I am by no means trying to diminish Spike's actions or their consequences." Luna turned back to the road, clenching her teeth. Despite her frustration, her silence conveyed her agreement. "But, with all due respect, he did try his best."

The car was silent for an inordinately long time, and the only sound was that of the tires on the paved mountain road. Finally, Luna said, almost inaudible, "That he did."

Satisfied, Fancy Pants sat back in his seat, facing forward.

Spike knew it was an unreasonable thought, but he couldn't help but notice the similarities of his situation: Princess Luna, his close friend and superior, was berating him for endangering himself, and was projecting her anger out of fear and worry. Fancy Pants, his soon-to-be colleague and mentor, standing up for him, though forcing him to admit to his mistakes in an effort to do better.

He knew it was an unreasonable thought, dangerous even, but he couldn't help but mouth the words.

Parents.

It was all he allowed himself to think on the subject, but a warmth that wasn't kin to any fire spread in his stomach, and a happy, dorky smile started to curl upon his lips. He happened to look outside at the passenger mirror, and saw Fancy Pants wink at him.

After a period of time, when Spike thought it was safe to speak, he asked, "So, why are we driving instead of just teleporting?"

"BECAUSE IT PLEASES ME, MAN-WHORE!" Luna bellowed, shattering the windshield and pelting them with glass.

A matter of minutes later, they stood by the side of the road, standing in awkward silence as Fancy Pants attempted to reform the broken glass with magic.

"For what it's worth," Luna said, "I am glad to see you." She rubbed her arms, pale and deceptively delicate in the light of the moon.

"Same," Spike said. He stripped himself of his jacket, wrapping it around his mentor's shoulders. She smiled gratefully and accepted it. "So, what now?"

"Now," she said, "we groom you for the years to come. The world has grown peaceful while I was away. Compared to how it used to be, at least." She allowed her eyes to wander the horizon. "Hopefully, you will never have to fulfill your duties, but things rarely go the way we wish them to."

Spike snorted. "Ain't that the truth."

Luna eyed him. "I'm curious as to what you think of the situation."

He turned to her. "How do you mean?"

"What do you think you've learned?"

He looked up at the moon, stuffing his hands in his pockets. Altogether, he didn't feel very different from when he sought Luna out nearly five years ago. His relationships were on the level, his friends no longer treated him like a kid, and, for better or worse, his life was going to be much of the same for the foreseeable future.

Spike shrugged. "There's no such thing as growing up. Not really. Most people don't fall asleep for years and wake up in another person's body. You can't fault others for your own mistakes, either, since the only thing you can really do to improve is force yourself to improve." He turned to Luna. "For so long, I was waiting until the moment I would feel like a man. Then I realized, it's never going to come. This is it."

Luna nodded. "It's a scary thought, isn't it?"

Spike nodded in agreement. "I always felt jealous, or mad at other people, for always having it so together. But they're probably just as scared as I am."

The moon princess cooed, patting her charge on the soldier. "Ah, yes, he arrives at the great truth of existence: no one ever knows what they're doing." She sighed. "Not even me."

The young drake hugged her about the waist, and after a moment of hesitation, she returned the gesture, allowing him to hold her.

He squeezed her, breathing into her ear, "Are you still mad at me?"

She shivered at his proximity, and for a moment, she seemed to be restraining herself. She leered coyly at him. "Always."

The End

The Ones Who Have Opened Your Eyes

Spike sighed as another frustrated young woman huffed and puffed her way away from him.

For Celestia’s sake, tell them a dress looks good on them and they think they’re already in your pants. He growled to himself as he spotted the same powder blue-haired vixen from earlier eying him over her Manhattan.

He slid out of his stool at the bar and made his way to a secluded corner of the restaurant, shooting a mild glare at anyone who tried to follow.

He considered his appearance.

Tan skin, green hair, and well in shape. A snort. Not exactly unappealing, but I have been getting more looks than usual on a Friday night.

Just as he sat down in his selected booth—thump—he felt the impact of another body drop onto the worn leather. He rolled his eyes as he turned to the newcomer.

A curious leg rubbed his underneath the table as a lovely face with pale green hair greeted him above.

“Hey there, cutie!” Ugh, her voice is like caramelized glass. “I saw you sitting over here all by your lonesome, and figured you could use some company!”

Spike’s eyes widened as her foot, very much unwelcome, made its way up to his thigh before he grasped it firmly in one hand. She giggled innocently as she tried to fix him with a sultry gaze.

He lowered his voice to an angry mutter, so that only she could hear his next words.

“Listen here, because I’m not going to repeat myself.”

She froze at his tone.

“I do not want sex. I do not want you. I sure as hell don’t want sex with you. So why don’t you stand up, take off your tacky little high heels, and run on out of here before I say something I really regret?”

She gasped, tears beginning to leak from her eyes as she stood up from the booth, tore off her shoes and ran out the door, sobbing pathetically.

Spike shrugged as he lifted his Appletini to his lips, his eyes following the fleeing girl apathetically.

“I say, that couldn’t have been very gentlemanly of you.” Spike looked up to see an older man peering down at him, his gaze searching as if to determine the teenager’s character. The familiar face struck his memory like a chord as he tried to recall the bespectacled gentleman with the thin blue mustache.

“She’s the fourth person to try and feel me up in the last hour. Trust me, she had it coming.” He likewise studied the other man as he took another sip of his drink.

The handsome stranger smiled wryly as a small grin spread across his face. “There is some merit to what you say, Spike, but a gentleman always holds himself to a higher standard.”

Spike raised an eyebrow, slightly put off that the apparent stranger knew his name, but he didn’t know his.

Unless…

“You were at the royal wedding, weren’t you?” A nod. “Fancy Pants, is it?”

A smile broke across his face as he sat down in the booth. “Bravo, young man! I knew you would get it eventually.”

Spike smiled wanly as he turned fully to face Fancy Pants. “That was at least seven years ago. How could you remember a kid like me from back then?”

A shit-eating grin. “Bachelor party.”

Spike’s mood instantly soured as he tried to keep an embarrassed blush off of his face. “Can I help you?”

The grin returned to a kindly smile as the more mature man settled back in his seat. “No, but I believe that I can help you.”

Spike leaned back suddenly. “No way—”

A wave of his hand. “No homosexuality.”

Spike let go of the breath he was holding. “Oh good, I was afraid this night was going to get even weirder.”

Fancy Pants gestured to the small pockets of people throughout the classy diner, of which there were a fair few glancing their way rather obviously. Spike cringed inwardly at the lecherous glares he received. “I intend to help you with your women problem.”

Spike shivered at their gazes. “What’s up with them? I’m only eighteen
, so why won’t they just leave me alone?”

“Neque femina amissa pudicitia alia abnuerit.” Fancy Pants muttered as he beheld the young man in front of him, choosing to explain himself as he saw his confused face. “It means that ‘a woman, having lost her virtue, will stop at nothing.’ If anything is true about Canterlot, it is that little virtue is in it.”

He shifted in his seat. “Let me tell you, Spike. No matter where you go in this world, no matter what countries, races, or peoples you behold, always know this: people are the same.”

Spike cocked his head, interested in what the other man had to say. “That seems a bit unfair. How do you figure?”

Fancy Pants’s voice lowered, prompting the younger man to lean in closer. “Heed my words, sir, and heed them well. Greed and desire are two faces of the same coin, and as such, it can be hard for some to tell one from the other. Having said that, believe me when I say that you are a very attractive young man, especially since you share your blood with a race as powerful as the dragons. I mean that with the utmost respect.”

Spike blushed. “Uh, thank you? You’re…handsome too.”

The blue-haired man snorted lightly. “Trust me, I know. Everybody wants Fancy Pants.”

Spike resisted the urge to facepalm.

“That is not a statement of narcissism, my friend. You see, I was in the same position as you are now. I still am, as a matter of fact.”

Spike’s confusion only escalated. “I don’t get it. If you still have the same problems as me, how can you help me? What makes us any different?”

Fancy Pants grinned again. “Finally, my boy, you’re asking the right questions. The answer, is finesse.”

“Fi-what now?”

The gentleman cleared his throat. “Finesse, man. Any handsome looker can attract a number of girls, but only a gentleman can refine himself. In his presence, greed has no place. In his presence, a lady becomes the one asking for his company.”

Spike snorted. “No trouble there, trust me.”

Fancy Pants laughed lightly. “I believe I said ladies, Spike, not skanks.”

The two men chuckled at his remark, whatever tension that was left dissipating.

The mustachioed gentleman rapped his fingers on the table lightly, the rings on his finger much more humble in appearance than the other classy inhabitants of Canterlot.

Spike wondered why he looked classier.

“Now, I agree that you certainly do not want for attention, but the key to getting what you want lies in the aura you produce around yourself. You must appear cool and desirable, yet respectful and unattainable. Do this, and the true queens will be sifted from the common peasants.”

Spike frowned. “That sounds easy enough, but how would I actually go about doing that?”

An eyebrow raised. “You spent the majority of your life around the Princess, did you not? It should be simple enough to channel her for your purposes.”

Spike nodded. Then frowned. “Wait, what are my purposes?”

Fancy Pants shrugged. “Whatever you wish. Relationships, intercourse…” He coughed slightly at this point. “Hmmmsubtlemanipulation.”

“What was that last one?”

Fancy Pants waved his concerns away. “It is irrelevant. By all means, you should try and see where my advice gets you. You never know, after all!” He winked good-naturedly.

Spike frowned. “But how?”

“Simple, my good sport! You’re nearly out of Appletini, merely go up for another and show that lovely young teal-haired lady over there a bit of your charm.”

“I’m not thirsty.” He said flatly.

“What is it that you young people say today?” Fancy Pants flicked his wrist, a spark of magic cloaking his hand as Spike’s legs stood up of their own volition, slowly moving him over to the counter. “Ah yes, Y.O.L.O.!”

Cursing Fancy Pants inwardly, Spike reminded himself to channel Princess Celestia’s demeanor as he approached the bar’s counter. His eyes flicked over to the familiar woman from before, still sipping on her Manhattan. He noticed her unusual harp-like earrings and how she sat with both of her legs folded.

Well, at least she’s cute.

“Another Appletini, please.” He said to the bartender.

A moment later, he felt her gaze upon him.

His drink slid over to him as his eyes darted briefly to meet hers. He could tell by the look on her face that she had just found a reason to strike up a conversation.

“Aren’t you a little
to be drinking?”

Okay, not what I had in mind. He turned to face her as he sipped on his drink. “Aren’t you too pretty to be drinking by yourself this late?”

Her eyes lidded as a small smirk crossed her face. “Thanks, but I’m no lightweight. Besides, I’m here with my girlfriend.”

Channel the Princess. Despite the embarrassment he felt inside, Spike managed to nod coolly. “So you’re interested in both, then?”

She nodded humorously. “How’d you know?”

He returned her smirk. “I know.”

Well, she’s still talking to me, so I must be doing something right so far. He pointed at her earrings as he leaned against the counter. “You play?”

She reached up as she grasped one in her hand. “Yeah, ever since I was little.”

“You like it that much, huh?”

She grinned. “Well, it is my namesake, after all. And it pays the bills, so yeah, it’s pretty boss.” She looked him up and down with a patronizing glance. “Are you usually this good at picking up older women with girlfriends, or are you just out of practice?”

Buuuuuuuurn. Return fire, and try to regain some dignity while you’re at it! “It’s usually the other way around, actually. My guardians don’t really let me out that often.”

The teal-haired beauty raised an eyebrow. “Your guardian? Am I about to get arrested for pedophilia or something?”

Spike laughed as he swirled his drinking playfully. “I don’t know, what were you about to do that would get you arrested?”

She floundered as she searched for a comeback to his verbal jab. Finesse, Spike. Not too shabby. He noticed Fancy Pants grinning out of the corner of his eye.

She decided to settle with a hint of seduction instead. “I don’t know, actually. Maybe you should give me some ideas?” She purred.

“Maybe you shouldn’t.” A frustrated voice called from behind Spike.

The teal-haired beauty peered around him, cringing in shame at being caught. “Oh, h-hey Bonbon!”

Spike turned, remembering to keep calm in spite of the hell he was undoubtedly about to catch, and found himself looking down at a shorter yet curvier woman with a beautiful hydrangea flower tucked into her blue and pink hair.

“Who’s your friend, Lyra?” The shorter woman leaned back and beheld Spike with a jealous gaze. There was, he found, no small amount of attraction either, as he could see her eyes struggling to stay above his neck.

He stretched out his hand to greet her. “I’m Spike, it’s a pleasure to meet you. Lyra and I were just talking a bit before she started trying to seduce me.”

He laughed inwardly, seeing Lyra sputter as he threw her under the bus. Traitor! He could practically hear her scream.

Bonbon rolled her eyes as she glared at her girlfriend, crossing her legs as she sat on a barstool. “Yes, she tends to do that from time to time. I’m sorry if she made you feel uncomfortable, I really am.”

Spike smiled attractively as he formulated a reply. Well, they’re both attractive enough. Messing with them a bit could be fun. “Well, I’m not. If anything, this…’conversation’ managed to brighten up a rather dull night.” He kept his eyes lidded as he quite obviously let his eyes roam over Bonbon’s frame. That feels right, make her feel like her clothes aren’t even there. He grinned to himself when he saw her shift awkwardly in her seat, unconsciously uncrossing her legs.

“Anyway, I’d better let you two lovely ladies get back to your night. It was a pleasure meeting you.” He decided to take a risk and took Bonbon’s hand and kissed it, making her blush distractedly as he purposefully brushed the back of his hand against Lyra’s leg before stepping backward.

“I-I mean, you don’t have to go, if you don’t want to…” Bonbon trailed off as she brushed her hand through her hair, pink dusting her cheeks.

Spike smiled gently on the outside, even though he was grinning on the inside.

“I don’t know, Bonbon.” Lyra purred as she wrapped an arm around Spike good-naturedly and pulled him down closer to her height. “It is getting pretty late for our friend here.” Bonbon’s eyes fluttered wide open as she realized what her girlfriend was implying, though the slight imprint of hope in them betrayed her emotions.

Is she suggesting…? He decided to push his luck a little further, to see where it took him. “You’re probably right, it wouldn’t be the gentlemanly thing to do to keep you two up all night.” He tried to make his voice sound huskier, like he heard other men do in similar situations. To his surprise, it didn’t come out as bad as he thought it would.

Bonbon swallowed her shyness, remembering that in front of her was a young and very attractive tan man who looked like he knew a thing or two about endurance. She mustered up her nerve and replied simply, “Then don’t be a gentleman.” Her eyes lidded as she curled her leg around his invitingly. Lyra grinned eagerly as she got up from her stool and put her heels back on.

Eh, why the hell not. Spike nodded as the two lovely ladies led him out of the diner, shooting a look to Fancy Pants as he went. The older man nodded approvingly, clapping his hands slowly. “Congratulations, Spike. You’re learning quickly.” He murmured as his pink-haired companion strutted over to sit next to him.

“You certainly made a few young ladies jealous with your assistance, Fancy. Many of the girls here tried their luck with that young man and got snubbed in seconds.” She crossed her long legs and flipped her hair graciously. “I wouldn’t have minded a night with him myself, actually.”

Fancy Pants narrowed his eyes. “I was merely helping a young man who is in a similar situation as I once was, Fleur. Celestia knows it’s hard for handsome men like us when the male to female ratio is 3:7.”

Fleur de Lis rolled her eyes good naturedly. “I’m sure it is, Fancy. Wherever would our population be if it weren’t for kindly men like you to guide us?”

Fancy Pants sipped his drink, swirling it around in one hand. “Sometimes, my dear, I wonder the same thing. Honestly, you must be among the luckiest creatures in the world.”

She cocked her eyebrows. “Why? Because I get to fight over what few gallant men there are?”

He laughed jovially. “No,” he said, “because you get to have your way with the best one.”

A pause. “Right now.”

She clasped her hands together in excitement. “I’ll bring the car around!”

Spike knew that the two women, especially Lyra, were attracted to him, but it was only after Bonbon had to stop her girlfriend from making out with his chest the very moment they stepped out of the restaurant that he understood the extent of it. As he buttoned up his shirt, staring at a window and studying his reflection, he mentally shrugged.
Can I really blame them? I mean, I probably shouldn’t let this go to my head, but man, I’d fuck me!

He muttered to himself as he stared back into the handsome young man’s eyes. “Looking good, Spike. Looking real good.”

Bonbon rolled her eyes as she latched onto Spike’s arm and steered them towards their apartment. He chuckled when he felt Lyra’s hand sneak into his back pocket. “Geez, I know I’m cute and all, but at this pace we won’t even make it back to your place.”

He caught a contemplating look on Lyra’s face. “You’re right; we should just find an alley and double team you there.”

Can’t say I’m surprised by that suggestion.

“Lyra!” Bonbon smacked her on the hand at the lewd idea.

“What?” Lyra frowned as she pouted at her lover.

Bonbon tsked as she kissed Spike gingerly on his cheek. “Young Spike here is a guest after all.” She winked at Lyra. “We can ravish him in the streets next time, okay?”

Next time…? Spike felt lightheaded as Lyra readily agreed. Alright, remember to play it cool. Channel the Princess. He chuckled as he brushed his lips against Bonbon’s exposed neck. “Show me that you know what you’re doing first, then we’ll talk about a next time, okay?” She shuddered as she leaned into him. He could imagine Fancy Pants’s input at his actions. Good, place her in charge. Make her feel as if she is the one who needs to impress you!

“Control your lust, people.” Lyra rolled her eyes as she dug into her purse. “We’re here.” She pulled out her keys and unlocked the front door. No sooner had she done so than had Bonbon pushed Spike onto the couch, pouncing onto his lap and ripping his dress shirt off. He could see the lust glazing her eyes over as her hands roamed his taut muscles, before moving her mouth to his neck.

Lyra gasped at her lover’s assertiveness before she remembered to be offended. “Hey, I saw him first!”

Spike moaned at Bonbon’s ministrations, motioning for Lyra to walk over. “Then do something about it.” Bonbon giggled into his neck as she continued.

Spike tried not to let his inexperience, or indeed, his overexcitement, show while his pink and blue haired partner ground slowly into his lap. His rather sizable length grew inside his pants, revealing his arousal to his surprisingly enthusiastic friend. Again, Fancy Pants’s voice spoke to him in his mind. Good work on having two ladies for your first time, my boy, but you mustn’t dawdle! Your arousal is too obvious, you must make her work harder for your passion!

Spike grunted as he gripped Bonbon’s hips, trailing a finger down her spine, causing a shiver to escape her. She hasn’t even taken her shoes off yet. Stay down for now, boner.

Kay.

Lyra made to move over to join in, but she stepped back in surprise when Spike stood up abruptly, whisking Bonbon’s dress off briskly, leaving her clad in only her cream laced bra and panties, her heels already discarded and off to the side. Spike sat them both down again, this time grabbing hold of Bonbon’s face as he passionately made out with her on the couch. He laid on his back while she stood on her hands and knees, her cute, full butt pointing outwards. Bonbon’s eyes were closed, lost in the passion of the kiss; Spike’s, however, were wide open, winking at Lyra and subtly motioning to Bonbon’s rear. Lyra took the hint and positioned herself behind her girlfriend, unceremoniously yanking off her panties and diving face first into—

“EEP!” Bonbon broke the kiss in surprise as Lyra’s mouth assaulted her womanhood from behind. “Lyra, you scared m-mmpfh!” Spike reclaimed her mouth selfishly as the curvier woman moaned desperately into his mouth, her hands wrapping around his shoulders as she pressed against him. Lyra planted her hands against her curvy ass, gripping her savagely and plunging deeper with her tongue. Spike broke the kiss, opting instead to massage her abundant breasts with his roughened hands, kissing her on the neck just as firmly. Their continued ministrations were too much for Bonbon, as she scratched her fingernails against Spike’s back and curled her toes as they brought her to a screaming orgasm. Lyra pulled back from her partner’s behind and glanced at a digital clock visible from the kitchen. “Two minutes and seven seconds. I think that’s a new record, BB.”

Bonbon groaned into Spike’s slightly sweaty chest. “I hate it when you call me that.”

Lyra giggled as she pulled Bonbon off of Spike, grasping at her chest. “Deal with it, babe. Besides, it’s my turn.” She dumped Bonbon on the floor, to the other’s surprise and Spike’s laughter. She climbed onto his muscled chest, grinning madly with arousal. “Oh wow, I’ve been waiting all night for something like this.”

“Oh have you now?” Bonbon looked slightly put off about being dumped on the ground, and had a You’re in for it now look on her face.

The lust in Lyra’s eyes was overpowering. “Oh hell yes.” She growled, her voice almost feral. Bonbon meeped as she flinched at the pure sexual energy her girlfriend was exerting. The you’re next look on her face made the smaller woman clench with excitement. “Fine, but I want another turn soon.”

Spike snorted. “I’m right here, you guys.” Lyra grabbed his head in her hands as she pressed her face to his.

“Hush.”

She kissed him passionately, battling his tongue and dominating it within seconds. Spike quickly had to take a breath from the strenuous activity. “Wow, you taste like…alcohol and candy.”

Lyra chuckled, her voice still lowered from her arousal. “Yeah, Bonbon has that quirk about her. She actually tastes like bonbons.”

Spike’s eyes widened. “Really now?” He grabbed Bonbon by the hips and plunged his tongue into her, her legs flailing wildly in the air.

“GAH, FUCK! W-warn me before you do that!” She was panting heavily, still recovering from their last bout.

Spike set her down gently. “Well I’ll be damned! If I didn’t know better, I’d think she bathed with chocolate!”

Lyra grinned lecherously. “Brings a whole new meaning to ‘candy vag’, don’t it?”

Spike licked his lips thoughtfully as he considered her words. “I guess so, yeah.” He looked back down at Bonbon, her beautiful womanhood puffed up from its attention and glistening with sweat and saliva. “Hey Bonbon, heads up.” He wrapped his hands around her hips again and dove back between her legs, savoring her taste all too eagerly.

“Ah, I need more warning than that!” She moaned as she gripped the carpet between her fingers.

Spike smiled into her pussy, causing her to moan even louder. “Oh hush, you know you love being used like this.”

Bonbon considered that for a moment while Spike went back to licking her shamelessly. “That’s not the point…”

Lyra growled again at being ignored. “Hey, you keep paying a bunch of attention to her! It’s my turn to be fucking you senseless!” She grasped angrily at Spike’s arms.

He turned his head to her as Bonbon sighed in relief. “Then stop being a pussy and fuck me senseless.”

Lyra’s eyes widened at the challenge as Bonbon ooooh, he told you’d from her place on the floor. She growled as she looked down at the smirking young man on her couch. He thinks he can mock me, in my home? She grabbed Spike by the leg, and with amazing strength, lifted him over her shoulder.

“H-hey, what are you doing?” He asked, his voice panicked as Bonbon watched with mild amusement before following them quietly.

She carried him into the bedroom, flinging him on her queen-sized mattress and scattering their pretty little pillows across the room. She flung her top to the floor, clad now only in her black bra with white lace, black dress pants, and high heels. Spike wondered why that only made her more attractive than before.

Lyra panted as she beheld the man who looked like a young prince before her. His near-bronze skin accented his muscles well; his unruly, stiff green hair made her want to run her fingers through it and see what he smelled like. She mentally noted to savor him after she taught him a lesson. Or eight.

“You wanna play hardball, motherfucker? Let’s play.” She pushed him back down on the bed, her heel digging into his chest as she yanked off his pants, revealing his form-fitting boxer briefs. She straddled him, grinding once before he rose to full mast. “Good boy,” she purred. She pinned his arms to the bed, licking his neck and grinding against him with agonizing slowness.

Spike groaned at the torture. “Lyyyyyyyyra…” He tried to buck his hips upward, but she would have none of it.

She licked his lips as she gripped his ass firmly with one hand, playfully nipping at him. “That’s right, little man, say my name.”

He had to admire her assertiveness and well-built stomach, as he tried to wrench his hands from her surprisingly strong grip. To his shock, they didn’t budge.

Bonbon called out from the hallway as she slinked in. “Don’t bother trying to break her grip, hun. When Lyra’s like this, it’s like Celestia’s gifted her with the strength of ten whores.”

Lyra decided to ignore the comment as she continued to dominate the younger man. “You want to feel me, Spike?”

He struggled against her grip, to no avail. “Yes...”

She rubbed her lips against the line of his jaw, whispering into his ear, “You want to know how firm I am? You want to show me what you’re all about?”

He groaned and tried to push her off with his legs, but she pinned those with her legs as well. “Yes!” She ground against his erection slowly, turning him on with alarming efficiency. He absently wondered how he could feel so aroused with this woman who was still for the most part clothed, much more so than when he was with Bonbon, who was nearly naked at the time.

She moved one hand down to stroke his cock, the distraction serving to make him forget about his efforts to escape her grasp. She marveled at his length, as she supposed his girth to be much larger than most of the admittedly few men she’d had before. Must be in the blood, she guessed, as she regarded his abnormally long canines.

Lyra moaned torturously as she slowly worked the length of his manhood, her delicate fingers wrapping around it and pumping slowly, but not nearly enough to soothe the ever-increasing pressure in Spike’s chest. “Do you want to feel every inch of me, seize the curve of my ass in your hands and feel my breasts,” he shuddered violently at this as she dragged them against his chest, “on your own? Do you want me?”

Spike groaned pitifully as she blew her cool breath on his still sensitive neck, her hands cupping his testicles. “Celestia, please, yes!”

Bonbon muttered under her breath, “It’s amazing how poetic she can be when she’s about to ravage someone.”

Lyra smirked sexily as she traced the outline of his abs. “Then beg for it.”

Spike shivered underneath her. “Please, just let—”

She shushed him with her finger, pushing it into his mouth and moaning as he reluctantly sucked on it. “Since it’s your first time of many with me—” she glanced over to Bonbon, shooting the quivering girl a look of pure sex, “—or should I say, us, I’ll say this so you don’t forget.” She pushed her still-clothed breasts into Spike’s face, further torturing him with her tantalizing body. “You’re not fucking me, I’m fucking you. When I say thrust, you thrust. When I tell you to lick, you fucking lick. If and when the situation ever arises when I decide to stop being on top and I tell you to fuck me like I owe you money, you better pray to Celestia that you’re man enough to satisfy me. Understood?”

Spike nodded.

“I didn’t hear you.”

He gulped. “Yes, Lyra.”

She nodded slowly in approval. “Good. Here’s how we’re going to do this. I’m going to fuck you, then you take a turn with Bonbon. If you’re as good as you look,” she winked, “I’ll give you the go ahead to show me what you’re worth. Understood?”

Another nod. “Yes, Lyra.”

She reached behind her back and unclasped her bra, throwing it to Bonbon’s face before lowering her chest onto Spike’s, moving it slowly up to his face. “Lick.” She commanded.

Spike took her breast into his mouth and massaged it with his tongue for all he was worth, taking the initiative to rub the other one with his free hand. He longed to caress the rest of her body, but decided not to, at the risk of upsetting the dominant woman.

She purred as she held his head in her hand. “Good, but don’t be afraid to be rougher with me.” He nodded as he took more of her into his mouth, circling his tongue around her nipple while occasionally stopping to pull her breast out and bite at certain parts to stimulate her arousal further. She moaned her appraisal at his natural intuition, rewarding him with quicker strokes to his cock. Bonbon watched in amazement as her girlfriend completely dominated her partner, who once seemed so cool and calm.

“Good, good,” Lyra praised as she got off of Spike, her pants being the only clothing left on her body. Spike swallowed his disappointment at her absence, but patiently awaited her next orders. She unzipped her pants and removed her belt, but did nothing else. Instead, she lifted her left leg over his face, her foot lightly ghosting over his glistening skin.

“Undress me.” He eagerly removed the pants from her legs, his eyes amazed to see the teal-haired beauty in her natural appearance. He moved to embrace her, but she stopped him with a glare. “Now, what did I say?”

Spike moaned painfully as she clucked at his lapse in obedience. Lyra spread her legs as she displayed to him her womanhood, absent of any hair and undeniably tight. She leaned forward, blocking it slightly from view as she cupped Spike’s face with one hand. “Beg for it.”

Spike swallowed as he composed his words. “Lyra, p-please fuck me. I’ve been waiting for so long, and I want you to be on top of me. Please, please have your way with me.”

She smirked as she pushed him onto his back. “Now, was that so hard?” A flick of her wrist and his boxers were gone, now laying on Bonbon’s lap next to her bra. She frowned as she realized that she still wasn’t wet enough for penetration. “Bonbon, get over here and suck his dick.” Immediately, the smaller woman was on the side of the bed, Spike’s impressive length already inside of her mouth. Lyra ensnared him in another kiss as he moaned gratefully into her mouth, Bonbon’s head bobbing up and down happily the entire time. Lyra broke the kiss to whisper into his ear, “Come for me, Spike.”

He exploded inside Bonbon’s mouth.

Bonbon’s eyes widened in surprise as she tried to contain his seed, only for Lyra to look over to her and command, “Swallow.” She stalled for a moment, before tilting her head back and doing as she was told. She retreated to her chair as Lyra put Spike’s legs over her shoulders, carefully adjusting his tip to her entrance, before she bore down on him.

“AAH!” Spike grunted out as she took his virginity, Lyra pumping him for all he was worth, not leaving a moment for him to get adjusted to the new sensation. I can’t help but feel our positions are reversed. I’d be lying if I said that I cared, though. His eyes rolled back as Lyra moved unrelentingly up and down, crude slapping noises coursing through the apartment. She flipped him onto his side, keeping the pace up as he grabbed a pillow and moaned into it, hitting his second orgasm of the night. Lyra hmmmed as she felt the spurt of seed inside her, still pumping as if nothing had happened while the warmth soothed her insides. She pulled off of him momentarily, her magic flickering to life as the spurt of semen flew out of her and into a nearby trashcan. A second burst of magic hit Spike’s cock, restoring him to full mast.

Spike groaned an unintelligible response into the pillow.

“What’s that? I can’t hear you!”

He moved the pillow from his face long enough to plead, “Harder!”

Lyra grinned savagely as she pushed him back onto his back, riding him for all he was worth as fast as she could go. Every thrust filled her to the brim, covered him to the hilt, and with each movement she was loathe to let him exit her. Eventually, she reached her climax as well, moaning heavily as her walls clenched around him, drawing another panting gasp from the sweating young man.

“How was it for you?” She grinned as she playfully wiggled her bottom against his groin.

He groaned as he tried to control his frazzled nerves. “Oh Celestia, that was…just...wow.”

Lyra smirked as she got up from the bed. “I thought so. Bonbon, your turn.”

She got up all too readily from her seat and pounced on the bed. “It’s about time, Lyra! Geez, you’d think sex was a marathon!” She climbed over Spike eagerly, peppering the laughing youth with kisses.

Lyra laughed as she smacked her girlfriend on the ass, prompting a squeal. “It’s not my fault, you were the one hogging him at first.” She sauntered over to Spike, whispering loudly enough in his ear for both of them to hear, “She likes it rough, really rough, so don’t be afraid to hold back on her. She likes to be spanked too, so have fun with that.”

Bonbon smiled cutely at Spike as he grinned with the newfound information. He sat up, asking her politely to rest on her hands and knees, which she obliged to.

“Where do you want me to fuck you?” He asked, with a smile on his face.

Bonbon blushed as she laid her head on the bed, posterior raised to the air. “In my ass, please?”

“Such a gentleman.” Lyra scoffed from the sidelines. Both ignored her.

Spike carefully took the tip of his manhood, brushing it briefly against Bonbon’s vagina to tease her a little, and lined it up with her cute little plug. “Are you ready?”

She nodded patiently. Spike took a deep breath as he tightened his grip on her ass, then plunged in despite the resistance.

Celestia rape me with her FIST! Spike gasped as he entered Bonbon, her ass far, far tighter than Lyra had been. He had to hold back an immediate orgasm, especially as Bonbon moaned out his name in abject pleasure. He sank into her unbelievably tight passage to the hilt, Bonbon’s moans reaching new heights of arousal with every inch. When he tried to pull out, he found her insides clamping down on his member, and he found it fairly difficult to keep it from sucking him back in. He panted at the new sensation, his sensitive organ already protesting from the loss of warmth. His attention was recalled to the woman beneath him when she pressed her ass back against his stomach, wiggling it tantalizingly.

Bonbon purred as she regarded him with half-lidded eyes. “I’m glad I feel so good for you, Spike. Now are you going to finish me like a good boy, or are you just going to keep sitting there?”

His response was to pounce onto her.

He slammed repeatedly into the howling woman’s backside, occasionally slapping her ass to accompany her arousal. She begged, she pleaded, she spoke his name as if it were the only thing she knew to say. All the while, her tender ass clenched around his member, loathe to leave his presence and happy to welcome him back. She eagerly offered up her body to him, which he whole-heartedly accepted. He pushed her down to her stomach, pumping savagely into her while he grasped her hands in his own. All of his stress of the day, from the strangers ogling him, to the sexual tension Lyra gave him, from his need to give this woman a fucking so grand that she’d be begging him to come back, all of it poured into Bonbon as she took everything he had to offer.

“Oh Spike, YES! Oh, baby, fuck me!” She moaned into the mattress with each thrust as he gave her his all and more. He reached over her back and grabbed her by the hair, the writhing woman beneath him laughing in ecstasy as he manhandled her. Her full breasts bobbed and forth in time to each of his thrusts, her swollen lips uttering praises for each moment of bliss he gave her. She felt herself mounting up to a monstrous orgasm as she crossed her ankles over one another, then uncrossing them in her ecstatic hysterics.

“Oh my gosh, oh my gosh!” Her voice cracked as she clenched Spike’s member one last time as her orgasm rocked her body. Spike gasped as his fourth orgasm hit him, biting into Bonbon’s shoulder to muffle his moans. Lyra grinned approvingly as the two exhausted lovers fell back on the bed, trying desperately to gather their breath.

“Not bad, not bad. I guess you’ve more than earned another romp with me, Spike.” She froze as she heard two sets of snoring, both her girlfriend and new best friend having been knocked out completely by the night’s exhausting activities.

Lyra groaned in frustration at the sight, pulling at her hair at having lost her chance for a second round of lovemaking. “Screw you two! I’m going to go watch TV!” The fuming beauty pulled her pants and shirt back on and stalked back into the living room, muttering to herself angrily as she scratched her butt.

The Ones Who Loathe Your Practices

"You shouldn't have done that."

Spike stirred from the nothingness, blearily sweeping his eyes of the shadows of his dreamscape.

They rested upon the star-riddled specter perched on a shelf of incoherent thought. On crossed legs and of displeased poise sat his mentor.

Princess Luna.

"Princess?" he said, mumbling as a result of his recent awakening. He felt the same feeling of fear, awe, and passive arousal that he always felt whenever he saw her.

"You really shouldn't have done that," she repeated, frowning. Creases marked her deceptively young face, even as the creases in her slim, dark nightgown waxed and waned according to her subtle movements.

The layman would say that she was pissed.

"I am beginning to think that you aspire to penetrate anything that walks," she said, scowling.

"That's not exactly fair," Spike huffed. "I'll have you know that I've seen some sexy paraplegics in my day."

The Princess was not amused. "Now is hardly a time for humor, Dearest."

Spike sighed, brushing back his stiff green hair. "What's the problem?"

The ruler of the night leapt from her seat, causing the inky black ground to ripple where she landed. "What's the problem? The problem is precisely what I just described!" she yelled, angrily swinging about her tiny fists. "Your inability to say 'no' to a pretty face is quite literally going to get you killed!"

Spike frowned, distractedly noting that the confines of his mind turned fuzzy and unfocused in reaction to his confusion. "If you're that worried, I've got some antibiotics in one of my-"

"That is not what I was referring to." Luna stalked up to her apprentice, barely meeting him eye to eye. A small, pale finger prodded him in the chest, eliciting a painful grunt. "Have you learned nothing from your prior failings?"

When he had no response, the Princess sighed heavily, cradling her nose between her fingers. "You're just rocking that extra chromosome, aren't you, Spike?"

Spike leapt from his spot on the treehouse floor, grumbling all the while.

Apple Bloom yawned, scratching her bare leg where her pants used to be. "What's got you in such a mood?"

He said nothing, only reaching for his shirt, pulling it from Sweetie Belle slept.

"Spike", she said, more seriously. Her voice carried the familiar authoritative tone that Applejack always used.

"I've got work to do," he muttered, donning his clothes and heading for the door. "See you around."

"Oh, come on!" Apple Bloom shouted. "We only did it once!"

Spike halted, sighed in irritation, and patted down his jeans, stopping once he touched upon something solid and rectangular. He yanked it out of his pockets, tossing it over his shoulder to his friend. "Here, this should keep you busy, or something." He opened the door, and left without another word.

Initially reaching to catch the book, Apple Bloom instead rubbed her forehead where the corner had pegged her. Mumbling something about 'green-haired jackasses', she picked up the pocket-sized manual and held it up to her face. "Five-Digit Diva: The Woman's Guide to Self-Touchery."

She hurled the book at the door, huffing. "Why, that no-good, egotistical son of a-"

Sweetie Belle raised a lazy eyebrow as she pulled her camisole back on. "That answers a few questions. Man's got so much talent with his hands, I thought he went to art school."

Apple Bloom rolled her eyes. "Oh, please, it wasn't nothing to write home about."

Scootaloo chuckled, her voice still husky from their last bout. "'Dear Princess Celestia, you won't believe who just fucked me like a porn star.'"

The three Crusaders snorted in amusement, imagining how their beloved ruler would react. Scootaloo was the first to recover.

"But seriously, toss me that book."

The wolf was advancing on them.

Evening was coming, bringing darkness and despair in its wake. Shadows danced over the rapidly darkening alleyway, and the beast was all that they saw.

Despite Applejack's strength, Pinkie Pie's cleverness, or however many bodies the rest of the townspeople threw at it, there seemed to be no way out.

The hulking beast was easily a head taller than the apple farmer, and at least four times as wide. Dark brown hair, coarse as bristles stuck out in fierce tufts.

Desperately, Applejack yelled at the behemoth, clutching her panting friend in her sore arms. "Leave us be, ya damned mutt! We ain't done nothin' to ya!"

But it advanced still, growling menacingly: "I'll huff, and I'll puff, and I'll tear your ass up!"

Their end was in sight...

The rapid padding of rubber on stone from in front of the forsaken corridor assailed the silence, causing five-and-twenty heads to swing in shared confusion.

A roaring battlecry, a crunch of bone against bone, and the lumbering pile of muscle flew through the evening sky, bellowing its indignant rage.

"Looks like I'm blasting off agaaaaain..." *twinkle*

Applejack blinked in surprise, loosening her grip around her similarly surprised friend. A spiky-haired young man leaned against the wall of the alleyway, still yelling, in spite of the fact that the danger had passed.

"Spike?" Applejack ventured, "is that y-"

"AAAAAAAAGH!" he screamed, heedless of her interrupted question. He bent over and clutched his thigh in rage.

The farmer flinched, letting go of Pinkie Pie and walking slowly toward their would-be savior. "What's gotten into you?"

"LEEEEG!"

Applejack glanced down to his leg, uncomprehending until she found oh God what are those sticking out of his

Her face blanched as she caught sight of the bristles embedded deeply into his shin.

"Turn your gaze upon the horizon," the night goddess murmured. "What do you see?"

The Princess's slender fingers, cool as moonlight, drifted across her student's neck, subtly shifting his view.

Spike's focus, however, was not on the superficial pressure on his neck, but rather on the burning sensation in his nostrils and the light dancing on the edge of the world.

He frowned and wrinkled his nose. "A fire. In the south."

The pair hovered above the clouds, their bodies iridescent in the makeup of their dreams. Below them, the whole of Equestria rested in its usual nighttime languor.

The Princess opened her mouth to speak, stopping only when her charge tensed, his hackles raised.

"You see it too," she said. It was a statement, not a question.

The hairs on the back of Spike's neck stood up. "I smell it." His eyes darted to and fro, trying to find purchase in the listless night. "But that's not a fire," he grumbled, working his jaw. "It's an active volcano."

A deep, primal feeling of unease settled upon him, setting his stomach to a cold boil.

"So who's that walking out of it?"

Twilight wiped the sweat from her brow, returning her hand to the space directly over Spike's leg. "You're incredibly lucky that your flesh is so dense." She grimaced, releasing the flow of magic as the skin finished sewing itself together, revealing it uncompromised and whole. "Hitting a monster of a wolf that size with that much force behind it? Anyone else and those bristles would've shattered the tibia."

Spike groaned his agreement, rubbing his sore muscles with one hand as the other reached to remove the gag that had kept him from crying out during the procedure. "Thanks, Twilight. Next time, though, could you just use a horse bit or something? I don't really feel comfortable with a ball gag that has teeth marks in it."

"Sorry," Fluttershy murmured, hiding behind her pink locks as she pocketed the accessory.

Spike stared blankly for a matter of seconds, before rubbing his temples to clear his head. "Yeah, whatever."

"I mean it," she insisted, looking out from behind her curtain of hair. "If I had been there to calm down that nasty wolf-"

"Stop right there, 'Shy," Applejack said, placing a rough hand on her friend's shoulder. "Y'can't be held responsible for somethin' you weren't a part of."

To his credit, Spike met her glare without shrinking.

"Applejack is right," he said, speaking without breaking their eye contact. He sat up on the couch, silently groaning with the effort. "I shouldn't have left without a warning. It was irresponsible of me, and—"

"Damn right it was irresponsible!" She yelled, indignant, shoving her tawny hands onto the couch to pin him. "I've got have a mind to tan your hide for what you did!"

Eyes narrowed and nostrils smoking, he responded, "And I take it the other half is telling you how that won't really work out for either of us."

She pressed against his forehead, so close that their noses were nearly touching. "It's tellin' me that you're damn lucky Twilight and Fluttershy are here."

He scoffed. "Why? Because otherwise, you'd beat me?" He pushed against Applejack's head, lifting himself off of the couch. "You'd have a better go at freezing Tartarus."

Before Applejack could retort, Twilight stepped between the two of them, acting as a buffer. "Simmer down, you two," she said, frowning. She placed a hand on on both of their chests, , gentle but firm. "There's no reason for anyone else to get hurt."

"Or maybe that's not the whole deal," Spike continued, ignoring her. He raised an eyebrow. "Are you still angry about last night?"

Applejack froze, eyes cutting to Twilight, whose eyes furrowed. "What do you mean? What happened last night?"

The farmer made to answer the question, but Spike beat her to it. "We slept together."

"What?!" The both of of them flinched from her outburst. Twilight whirled on her blonde friend. "I asked you to keep an eye on him!"

Spike's eyebrows rose even higher as a grin wormed its way across his face. Applejack seemed to be torn between angrily spouting at him and trying to babble out an excuse to Twilight.

When none was forthcoming, Spike smiled and started to speak—

Before Pinkie Pie slammed the door down.

"You guys," she said, and the conversation died.

Her face grim and foreboding, she spoke slowly, deliberately, as if her every word were an ordinance with all the authority of fate. "I'm pregnant."

"Whaaaa?!" the four of them shrieked.

"Now do you comprehend the consequences of your actions?"

Spike nodded but said nothing, instead continuing his pacing. "That...that thing in the volcano—

"Not a volcano, dear," she corrected, waiting for his head to swing up to hers in confusion, as she knew it would. "Extend your senses. Do you feel any magma underneath it?"

He paused, clacking his teeth together as his head swiveled back toward the landmark in question. His eyes narrowed.

Then, "How long has that mountain been hollow?"

The Princess walked beside him, arms crossed and eyes contemplative. "For many decades. Centuries, even." She spared him a glance before focusing her attention back on the mountain. "Even before I was so old, it was one of many dwelling places of a now obsolete race. There are few elsewhere in the world."

Her student frowned, fighting back an instinctive shiver. "What were they called? The...things that lived in them."

Luna's lips tightened into a firm line, as if to even consider her answer left a bad taste in her mouth. "They had many names, though many were nothing more than titles spoken in old ages and in popularized fiction.The 'scourges of fire'—both definitions of the word, mind you—as well as the 'torturous demons', 'flames of Tartarus, and," she coughed heavily, "hmmmdragon killers,"

"What?"

"What?"

The green-haired youth grit his teeth, eyes wide and cautious. "Those were just titles, right? They weren't any different from regular monsters?"

The Princess swung an eye to him, mildly skeptic. "What? No, they were most definitely demons."

"Figures."

"Their legendary ferocity was all but unrivaled," she continued. "Their mastery of fire could not exceed that of the dragons, but they could wield terrible magic and were nigh impossible to kill."

The cold fury in his stomach raged until he felt as if he would throw up, and for a moment, Spike wondered if a person could choke on their own vomit in their sleep.

"What the hell is wrong with you?"

And upon remembering who his mind was in contact with, ended the train of thought. "Nothing, nevermind!" He shouted, rubbing his fingers to his temples in order to focus. "Anyway, if they were so tough to kill, how come there aren't any more?"

The Princess blinked at him. "I never said they were extinct, Spike, only obsolete."

He sputtered, head bobbing between the disgruntled Princess and the frighteningly now-empty mountain.

"You mean they're still alive?" he nearly shrieked.

"Were you not paying attention when I mentioned that they are hard to kill?" she barked, causing him to flinch. "The remaining two Valaraukar are in deep hibernation, and any substantial effort to eliminate them would risk countless lives."

"But the Elements of Harmony—"

"Are not capable of killing creatures of darkness, only cleansing them. Even if there were something to restore, they weren't meant for beings of this size and caliber."

She turned away from him, seemingly hesitant to continue. "Furthermore, people of incredible strength were the only ones capable of meeting them in combat and prevailing. Celestia herself was the last to manage it, and barely that. As we are, neither she nor I are as powerful as we used to be."

Spike cocked an eyebrow, curious in spite of his inner turmoil. "Princess Celestia killed one of those things by herself?What kind of magic does that take?"

"No such magic," the goddess replied, not moving from her position on the night horizon. "She used her fire."

Now it was Spike's turn to look skeptical. "How do you kill creatures of fire...with fire?"

She finally turned to face him, a lazy smirk on her face. "You of all people should know, dear." She extended a pale finger to the hem of his shirt, pulling it upwards, halting when the scar that he made a point of not looking at showed its ugly, crusted face. She traced it with her finger lightly, before pressing on it hard enough to make him wince in pain.

"You out burn them."

Pinkie Pie couldn't stop laughing, despite the highly perturbed expressions on her friend's faces. When her fits finally subsided to pig-like snort or two, she managed to say, "Geeze, you guys, lighten up!" She chuckled, elbowing a surly Applejack in the side. "You act like you've never almost been an aunt before!"

Applejack was not amused.

"Hey Pinkie," Spike started, glaring. "Want to know how to not piss off your friends and nearly give them collective heart attacks? Here's a tip-"

"Just the tip?" She asked flirtatiously, sending a quick wink in his direction.

"Hnnnnnnng," He groaned, clutching a hand over his heart. "That's it," he announced, moving slowly toward the kitchen. "I'm limping out of this conversation before my dick implodes."

Applejack arched a scathing eyebrow as he retreated. "What, ya still sore from ruttin' the wolf?

He didn't even bother sparing her a grimace. "No, but being treated like a gimp by your sister and her friends will do that to a guy."

His response didn't have an immediate action on Applejack, as her face seemingly turned blank.

Twilight tweaked her head, puzzled. "The sexual definition, or the crippled one?"

Pinkie Pie scrunched her nose in confusion. "I wouldn't say you're our sex slave—yet—but Twilight isn't really your si—oh," she said, sucking in her lips and nodding. She sent a not-too-surreptitious glance at her blonde friend from the corner of her eye.

To her credit, Applejack kept her composure. Rather than lashing out and collapsing Spike's throat, as everyone present expected. Her teeth clamped together, gritting themselves violently. Her fingers clenched and unclenched, her knuckles turning an uneasy shade of off-white.

Finally, when it seemed that Applejack would immediately snap on her friend, she stopped, took a deep breath—

And plunked down on the couch.

She grumbled incoherently, crossing her arms. "It ain't the first time," she mumbled, letting her stetson tip slightly over her face. "Weren't worth gettin' worked up over then, weren't worth it now."

If Spike was surprised, he didn't show it. While his eyes were trained on Applejack, the same couldn't be said for the rest of the room.

Twilight watched as his face took on that of blank focus, the only sign of emotion being a slight crease of the eyebrows; the longer she stared, the more she was aware of his physical differences.

His hair was a verdant green as always, but more stiff and pale than it was when he was younger.

His ears were pointed; that was nothing knew, but the slight curve that they made in contrast to the angle of his head was.

His arms, which used to be so adorably fat and chubby, were powerful and hairless, when he chose to show them, but they were also noticeably longer than those of other young men his age.

Any who saw him when he was younger would have no issue recognizing him, even in a crowd, Twilight was sure. The longer she looked, though, the more it became apparent that he didn't look entirely human, if you knew what to look for.

She couldn't help but feel that, despite their mutual upbringing, there were some parts of him that she still didn't, and might never, understand.

He's still the same person, she said to herself, swallowing. He's still the little boy I raised.

She tried to move toward her once oldest friend, despite her reluctance to open her mouth and at least say something to him, reprimand him for sleeping with several of her best friend's sisters, instead of—

Instead of her? Twilight thought, grimacing.

Bitter as the truth was, she couldn't help but meet the glaring problem with her own two eyes: Applejack wasn't upset because of the tryst between her younger sister and Spike. She was upset because she hadn't gotten what she wanted.

Twilight grimaced inwardly. Granted, it was hardly the polite thing to do, but she and her friends weren't exactly spotless either.

So when Spike turned and trudged up the stairs, hobbling and favoring his good leg, she did nothing to stop him.

But she didn't help him, either.

"So, a centuries-old—"

"Aeons."

"An aeons-old demon has just woken up.

"Correct."

"And it's my fault?"

A frowning nod. "In a roundabout sort of way, yes."

Spike frowned. "Care to elaborate?"

Luna glanced over to him. "Did you think that dragons were the only ones that could sniff out their enemies?"

Spike flinched. "Well, no, but--"

"The one you called Garble only revealed his presence to you when you were but a few feet away." The Princess spoke without halting now, advancing toward her young charge with small angry steps. "Now, because of your carousing and canoodling, an aeons-old demon has woken from its slumber because a young member of its rival race halfway across the country couldn't stop his dick from dipping into the collective honeypots of his surrogate friends and family. Now something very powerful and very God-killing is searching for the one who is, by its reasoning, a priority target to be exterminated before it becomes too powerful to control. So, Spike Twilightsson, you can believe me when I say that you really, really shouldn't have done that."

Luna was at his neck now, standing eye to eye with her bewildered student.

After a long, uninterrupted silence, Luna blinked. "You may speak now, Spike."

Spike released a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. "So," he coughed, "so I'm supposed to fight that thing?"

Luna pointed her finger at him, just under his nose. Her face was wracked with lines, subtle lines that betrayed her frustration. "No," she finally admitted, frowning. "You will have to face the thing that ate it."

Spike's blood ran cold, colder than when he had first lost his fire. "And I'm supposed to win?" he asked, incredulous.

Luna's finger wavered. "You are not," she said, her voice lathered with what Spike belatedly realized as sorrow. "I am scared for you, Spike. You are not supposed to survive, and you will not." She shuddered, a motion that moved throughout her body. "Not unless I make you an offer."

Spike moved toward his mentor, who was visibly shaking, trying with no small amount of self-control to keep herself from breaking down. He realized that his predicament was the reason that she had been on edge for the past few nights.

"Princess?" he asked, beginning to shake as well, in spite of his will to comfort her.

"Princess, why are you crying?"