The library is cold. A shaft of light fans out across the darkened floor, trying to spread as much warmth as it can. The morning rays strain and stretch through the open window, grasping at a set of tiny, purple claws. But the claws are just out of reach, so tantalizingly close.
Spike watches the light creep towards him with detached interest. The light isn't bad, it's just trying to spread warmth. It just wants to help. Spike can understand that. He likes to help, too. His entire life, he has tried to help everyone as much as he possibly can, sometimes too much.
The baby dragon blinks as a mote of dust floats into view, breaking up the curtain of light before disappearing into the shadows. He should dust soon.
Spike shivers, wrapping himself loosely in a gray blanket to stay warm; it doesn't work very well. Twilight could magic up a fire, but she's still in bed. She should be awake soon, though. Spike wants to light it himself, but he's not allowed. Not after last time. He understands why, considering the mess he had to clean up afterward, but he thinks Twilight overreacted a just little bit. It was only a few books. Just paper and ink, really—stuff that could easily be replaced. It had been an accident, anyway. He promised to be more careful, but how can he prove himself if Twilight won't give him another chance? Spike hopes she will let him help light the fireplace after she wakes up.
Now that he's thinking about it, Twilight has been in bed for quite a while. What a lazybones.
No. He shouldn't think like that. Twilight works very hard; she always has. If anyone deserves to sleep in for a few hours, it's her. After all, the library is closed today, so visitors won't be a problem; she can sleep as long as she wants. Although, there is always the possibility of an emergency popping up, like another monster attack or something, so it might be best to wake her up now. On the other hand, she would need to be well-rested in order to fight off monsters. But on the other other hand, it might be too late by the time anybody can wake her up; she sleeps like the dead, after all.
As Spike debates with himself about waking his surrogate mother/sister, he stiffly gets up from his seat on the floor. His blanket drifts to the ground, stirring up more dust which proceeds to dance in the light. He slowly paces back and forth between the window and the staircase, pausing at the bottom step each time and thinking of yet another reason to not disturb Twilight. She might get mad at him for waking her up, but she also might get mad at him for not waking her up. She might even yell at him. He doesn't want to hear Twilight yelling.
The light slowly fades. Evening has arrived, bringing an abundance of clouds with it. Spike is shocked. Did the hours really pass so quickly without him noticing? Even more shocking, it appears as though Twilight has slumbered through the entire day. Spike loudly calls her name once. Twice. A third time. No response. She must be really tired.
A low rumble catches his attention. Was that his stomach? He knows he needs to eat, but he's not hungry at the moment. There isn't any food in the kitchen, anyway. He already checked.
The rumble sounds again, accompanied by a flash of light. Spike glances out the window to see the sky filled with dark clouds covering the horizon.
Spike groans in dismay at the thought of another rainstorm happening so soon. He still needs to fix the leaks he found during the last one. Sighing in resignation, he hurries to the kitchen to grab a few bowls. He places them strategically, remembering the exact spots where the leaks occurred last time. Twilight would be mad if he let any books get wet. Finally finished, Spike trudges back to his spot and lies down. He covers himself once more, scooping a new blanket back over him. This one works a little better.
The rain is light, but persistent. The bowls slowly fill up with water, giving Spike a small sense of satisfaction. He did good. He protected the library. Twilight will be so proud, she might not get mad at him for not waking her up.
A loud beating of wings goes unnoticed by Spike. He does not blink when an alicorn lands directly in front of him, the splashes of water just missing his head. Princess Luna stares down at the broken form before her. He has nearly buried himself in ashes turned to mud by the rain. His scales are blackened by patches of soot. He has surrounded himself with a number of cracked dishes, scattered about with no apparent rhyme or reason.
Luna finds herself filled with equal parts relief and pity. It has been days since the fire that consumed the Golden Oak Library, taking Twilight Sparkle with it. Her family and friends were all in anguish, heartbroken by the sudden loss of one they loved so dearly. However, none were taking Twilight's death worse than her former assistant. He was caught in the fire with her, but his dragon nature prevented any serious injury.
There was no body to recover, so the funeral was held at the site of the library. Spike did not respond to anyone. He did not even appear to be aware of his surroundings.
He has yet to shed a single tear. He does not dream about anything. In the days following the fire, his sleep has been accompanied by a black void, endless and unchanging. She did not see a dream from him last night, so she assumed it was finally over. Unfortunately, Spike still lives, trapped within himself. He may be alive, but each day is worse than the last. He does not eat, he does not respond to anyone, and he turns violent against any attempts to move him. He simply lays in the ashes, day after day, muttering words only he understands. He has chosen his grave, having lost the will to live. It is only a matter of time.
Shaking her head, Luna spreads her wings and takes off, beginning the return trip to Canterlot. Reaching the comfort of the clouds, she lets out a long sigh, dreading the day she will have to inform her friends of a second death. Far beneath her, Spike lays wrapped in his blanket, waiting for Twilight to finally wake up.
