Direction

"It took a week, but it was a lifetime in the making. They sat down, talked it out, and finally realized they loved each other. And then they, um..." Twilight trailed off.

"Screwed each other's brains out?"

"Well, I was trying to come up with a more romantic way of phrasing it," muttered Twilight, "but yes. And anyway, they just got engaged! Isn't it great? Finally, Rainbow Dash is getting married to-"

"What a riveting tale."

"Jeez, you don't have to be such a dick about it," sighed Twilight, "I mean, I thought it was really beautiful."

"Pardon me, I have to go throw up."

"When did you become so cynical?" asked Twilight.

"I don't know. I think around the time you started telling that terrible story."

"Honestly Spike, sometimes I think you were just put on this planet to drive me crazy!" cried Twilight, throwing her hands up in the air. Spike only smiled, and lit up a cigarette.

"I really wish you wouldn't smoke," Twilight couldn't help protesting, for the thousandth time, "Those things are terrible for you."

"Thanks mom, I'll keep that in mind," Spike retorted.

"I could do without the smart mouth. You're lucky I'm even letting you stay here. You graduated. You should be out, you know, finding a job or something." Twilight got up from the table, walked over to the sink, and began washing the dishes. Spike did have to admit it was a little cramped around here. When Spike had first shown up on Twilight's doorstep, he had only planned on staying for a month or so. He didn't think it would be a big deal - Twilight had practically raised him when he was younger. But it had been almost six months now, and the three room apartment was starting to feel a little small. Spike was tired of riding the couch, and Twilight was tired of Spike trashing the place. And honestly, they were both quite tired of each other.

"I am trying to find a job. It's not my fault no one wants to hire me," Spike tried to pass it off with a shrug.

"Oh really? Then why did I find that Salvo's application crumpled up in the trash can?" said Twilight, speaking over the running water.

"Come on, fixing cars? That's not really my style," he defended, crushing out the remainder of his cigarette. "I want to do something cool, you know? Something that'll make a difference. Like, maybe I'll be a writer."

"Well, most writers have college educations," said Twilight, pointedly

"Most - that's they key word." Spike stretched, and stared off into space, "Most, but not all." His instinct knew what was coming next, and thoughts ran in one direction; Not the college thing again, please...

"But college can't hurt." Twilight was now hand toweling off the dishes, and putting them on the dish rack, "You can get financial aid, you know. What with your home situation, it should be easy to-"

"Enough about college, Twilight," growled Spike. It took a lot to make him mad, but talking about school was a good way to do it. He'd struggled all through high school... going back was not what he had in mind. To be honest, he wasn't sure what he had in mind. He didn't want to say he was ambition-less, but it was a pretty accurate description. He wanted money, but he didn't want to put the effort into working. He wanted to write, but when he actually sat down to do it, nothing came to him.

"Well, you have to do something," sighed Twilight. "I love you Spike - you know I do. But you can't live here forever. If you don't find something soon..." Twilight didn't bother to finish her statement - she didn't have to. Spike knew that she would kick him out. She would hate him for making her do it, and hate herself for having to do it, but she would do it nonetheless. Spike stood up, and walked away from the kitchen. He moved into the living room, and took a long look at himself in the mirror. His pale green eyes stared back at him. He ran his hands through his spiky mohawk. He had first cut it like that out of rebellion, but now it had really grown on him. He was a little thin, but not unhealthily so. He looked a little young for his age, and his clothes - torn jeans and a band T-shirt - hung off of him. Still, he didn't feel any sort of loathing when he saw himself. A few years ago, he wouldn't have been able to look at himself for more then a few seconds.

"I'm going out," he said. He waited for Twilight to acknowledge him, but she said nothing. He shrugged, and walked out the door. It was dusk - the sun slowly dipping down past the horizon. The crisp fall wind blew roughly against him, and he crossed his arms in front of him. He felt himself mindlessly wander off in no particular direction. He did this pretty often. Ponyville was a very open, beautiful place. Hell, you could even see the stars at night. He had spent a few days in another, more populous city, and he couldn't even see Orion's Belt. He drifted forward, past the apartment complex where he lived, past a few convenience stores, and past the Apple farmhouse. His feet took him to his old school. In the back of his head, he knew this is where he would go. Ponyville High - or, as he and his friends had not-so-affectionately called it, the freak show. He wandered past the front of the school, into the back. The wide field was always open, and usually had a few stragglers playing pick up ball. Today, it was oddly empty. He lit up a new cigarette, and took it in. The only thing that suggested human occupation was a soccer ball, lying next to a nearby goal post. He walked over to it, and gave it a few kicks. He himself was never good at sports - unless you count 'boarding as a sport - but he had played the game as a child. He remembered one girl in particular - they had ended up going to this very high school together. She was a funny one - she had one of the craziest names he had ever heard. He remembered her flowing purple hair, her tan skin, her face constantly screwed up in concentration. He gave the ball a really good wallop, and watched it sail away. Those were the days... yeah right.

He walked away from the field, dousing the cigarette butt by the gates, and again his feet took on a random direction. High school hadn't been that long past, but it seemed like it was a lifetime ago. Spike had never been one of the popular kids. Maybe it was the hair. Maybe it was the fact that he didn't care about any of the sports teams, and thought school spirit was a joke. Hell, maybe it was just because he didn't want to be popular, and that in some way he enjoyed being outcast from everyone else. Whatever the reason, he had stood on the outskirts of school life. Still, high school hadn't been terrible. He had some fond memories. Getting high behind the gym, while the rest of the school droned and buzzed at some sort of pep rally. A string of short lived but very passionate relationships. And of course, those long nights in the skate park, losing himself in the pavement.

"Spike?"

He nearly jumped in surprise, whirling around in search of the voice, and was stunned to see one of his old classmates.

"Belle? What the hell are you doing here?"

"What am I doing here? What are you doing here?"

Spike looked around. He had somehow ended up in the fashion district - specifically, in front of the Carousel boutique.

"I was just going for a walk," Spike answered honestly, "Guess I ended up here somehow."

"Well, while you're here, do you want to get fitted for a dress?" Belle giggled. Spike frowned. Sweetie Belle ("not Sweetie Belle, just Belle," she had always whined) was just how he remembered her. A little short for her age, and a little pale, but very beautiful. She had waist length pink and purple hair, and always seemed to be wearing a frilly, frou-frou outfit.

"No thanks," he deadpanned, starting to walk off again.

"Hey, wait!" Spike turned, and raised an eyebrow. "You haven't seen me in like, two years, and that's what you do? You just leave? Not even a, 'hello Belle, how have you been?' Or even just, 'wassup'?" In typical Belle fashion, she put her hands on her hips and leaned a little towards him, "That's not very nice."

"My bad," said Spike. "Wassup?" He began walking off again, no sense in starting an argument.

"Oh no you don't!" Belle walked up to him, and grabbed him by his arm.

"What the hell are you doing?" asked Spike.

"You're not just walking away from me," said Belle, her head held up, her chest puffed out. (What? So he noticed. You would too.) "You're coming inside, and telling me what you've been up to."

"Fine, fine," groaned Spike. "Easy on the duds, please. I just got these cleaned."

"Just... cleaned?" Belle stared at his outfit, with an expression somewhere between disgust and confusion. "Right... well, come on."

~

Spike sat at a table, impatiently tapping his foot. He still didn't really understand how he'd ended up here. One moment, he had been taking a nice little stroll. The next, Belle had dragged him in here. If ever there was somewhere that was the opposite of Spike's personality, it was this place. This wasn't the first time he had been in the boutique - Twilight had dragged him here a few times as a kid. He had had a crush on the girl who worked here - Rarity - who had gone to school with Twilight, and they had met through some mutual acquaintance. She had never even looked Spike's way - there was a big age difference - but he had still adored her. It was through her he had first met Sweetie Belle. Belle was Rarity's sister, and as such, they had ended up spending a lot of time together. He hung out with her throughout elementary and middle school, but they had drifted apart in high school. Still, considering their past, he suppose he did owe it to her to at least make small talk. A nearby door opened and Belle walked in, carrying two cups. She set one in front of Spike, and took a seat. Spike stared at his drink suspiciously.

"Go on, take a sip, it's good!" she urged him, taking a gulp of her own drink. Spike took the cup by the handle, raised it carefully to his lips, and took a little drink. It actually wasn't bad. Heck, it was good!

"It's okay, I guess," muttered Spike, setting the cup back down.

"Thanks, it's a family recipe." Belle set her drink down, and stared at Spike. "So...?"

"So... what?"

"So, what have you been up to?" probed Belle. "After I graduated, Rarity helped me pay my way through fashion school. I still have a while to go, but I'm doing pretty well. How about you? Are you going to school."

"Nope."

"Oh. Well, um, do you have a job?"

"Nope."

"Oh, okay. Well, where are you living?"

"With Twilight."

"Still? You haven't found another place to live?"

"Nope."

"Aww, Spike." Belle stuck out her bottom lip. Spike frowned.

"I don't need sympathy. I have a plan. It just... it just hasn't come together yet," said Spike, raising his arms noncommittally. This was about how he'd expected this conversation to go.

"Right... well, you know, if you ever need a job, you can always work here," said Belle.

"Where?"

"Here, at the boutique! Rarity has her hands full with other things now, so I pretty much run this place by myself. It gets a little hectic sometimes. I could use a hand around here," said Belle. Spike opened his mouth, but quickly closed it. He was about to tell her off - him, working in a fucking boutique!? Had she seen him? He was a skater, a punk, a stoner, not a damn fashionista. But something had stopped him. He was pretty strapped for cash lately. He'd broken his board a little while back, and still hadn't managed to raise the funds to fix it, not to mention that he hadn't bought a new video game in months. Plus, if he had a job, Twilight might finally get off his ass.

"What kind of pay are we talking about?" asked Spike. Belle's eyes widened.

"Oh! Well, um... it really wouldn't be much beyond minimum wage, to be honest. We don't have a lot of spare cash," said Belle.

"Minimum wage, huh?" Spike tapped his chin. "Would I have to wear some stupid uniform?"

"No. But you would have to dress a little, umm..." Sweetie Belle took another look at Spike, chewing her bottom lip. "... nicer."

"Fine. I'll take it." They both stared at each other in disbelief. He... he had just taken the job.

"Okay... I mean, great! No, really, great!" Belle jumped up, and ran over to Spike. She suddenly embraced him, and Spike jumped up in surprise. "You start tomorrow. Be here at eight!"

"Eight a.m?" Sweetie Belle let him go, and frowned down at him.

"Yes, eight a.m. And don't be late. It's never good to be late on your first day."

"Right, okay."

"Well, this is wonderful. And all because we just happened to run into each other on the street. Talk about serendipity, huh?"

"Yeah," said Spike. "Serendipity." They exchanged a confused glance for a second. Something had passed between them... some strange feeling. It almost felt like some big clock had started turning. "Well, it's getting kind of late. I better get home soon, otherwise Twilight'll kick my ass. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Eight o'clock sharp, right?" asked Belle.

"Right," said Spike. He felt a smile rise to his lips. He was shocked to his soul when he realized it was his first smile in a very long time - a long, long time.

~

"A job! Oh Spike, finally!" Twilight embraced him, and Spike let out an exasperated groan.

"Come on Twilight, enough with the hugging," moaned Spike.

"Sorry, it's just..." to his horror, Twilight burst into tears. "I'm so proud of you Spike. I was so worried for a while. But now I feel like you have some sort of direction, and - oh, come here you!" Twilight hugged him again. Spike tried to protest, but he realized there'd be no point. He stood there, and let her hug him for a while.

~

As he lay in bed, he tried to think of why he might have agreed to this. He had wanted a job, sure, but he wanted to do something fun and exciting. Not doing menial labor at some crappy clothing store. It was like it wasn't even him answering. It was like some other person had stepped into his shoes, and talked for him. Still, now that he actually had the job, he didn't feel at all unpleasant. It wasn't just the fact that he would be making money. He felt like - for the first time in forever - he was actually doing something constructive. Like he was, well, going somewhere. He thought of his walks. Before, he had wandered with no destination. Now, he felt like he would have a place in mind when he began his treks. He found this strangely comforting. Huh. Maybe this whole working thing wasn't as shitty as he had first made it out to be. He closed his eyes, and tried to let sleep take him. He had trouble... he felt excited.

~

"This is stupid. I look like an asshole." Spike frowned at his reflection. Twilight had run out to the store, and bought him a pair of khakis and a button down shirt. She had also tried to comb his hair down into something normal, but it now resembled a terrible comb-over. Every time Spike tried to fix it, Twilight would slap his hands away.

"Would you knock it off? You look fine. And for the last time, stop fussing with your hair." Twilight smoothed his hair back down, and Spike let out a harumph of displeasure. "You know, your hair wouldn't be so out of control if you'd get a reasonable haircut."

"Oh that's it!" Spike threw his hands in the air, and stomped away from the mirror, "I'm getting out of here."

"Have a good first first day!" shouted Twilight, as Spike made his exit. After he had left, his hands immediately went up to his head. He tried to straighten his hair back up into his trademark mohawk, but it stubbornly refused to give. By the time Spike got to the boutique, he looked like he had been stuck in a wind tunnel.

"Hello Spike, how are - oh my goodness," squeaked Belle. "What happened to your hair?"

"Twilight," muttered Spike under his breath. Belle reached into nearby drawer, and pulled out a comb. She rushed over to Spike, and busily began brushing his head, "What is with you women and touching my freaking head!"

"Hush. I can't have you scaring off customers, you know." Belle continued to fuss with his hair. "You're dressed nicely though. I was worried you didn't own anything other then torn jeans and T-shirts."

"Twilight bought these for me. I think she went to the dweeb store."

"I don't think you look like a dweeb. I think you look very handsome. There!" Belle stood back to admire her handiwork. "Go check yourself out stud." Spike walked over to a nearby mirror, expecting the worst. He was pleasantly surprised to discover that Belle had somehow managed to flatten his hair. He stared at himself in the mirror.

"I look... normal." He stuck his tongue out, "This sucks."

"Very mature. Now, here's what I want you to do. We just got a new shipment of fabric in, and..." Belle rattled off a seemingly endless list of tasks for Spike to complete. She made him sign a form, to show he was now employed, 'For the books' she said, and then made him repeat what he had to do to make sure he had it. After what seemed like an hour, she ran off to attend to a customer, and Spike got started with his work. It was hard - not back-breaking, but some of it was pretty tedious. Having to count all the inventory took forever, and he stepped on a sewing needle while he was trying to stuff a roll of fabric into a cardboard tube. Still, it was satisfying. He fell into a sort of rhythm - semiconsciously doing the labor while letting his mind wander. He kind of felt bad for not talking to Belle earlier. True, they weren't great friends in high school, but they did see each other occasionally. And unlike a lot of the 'cool kids' she never made fun of him. In fact, she tried to get him more involved in school life. She would try to drag him to every single pep-rally, and even talked him into attending a student council meeting. She had always gone out of her way to help him, and he repaid her with irritated indifference. He didn't consider himself a bad guy - he had flaws, sure, who didn't - but that was a real dick move. Here he was again, taking advantage of an opportunity she had offered him, and he hadn't even said thanks. As he set down a heavy box, he decided to go find Belle.

He found her sewing up a torn dress, working carefully but incredibly fast. He cleared his throat, and she looked up. "Oh, hi Spike." She set down her work, and gave him her attention, "Everything going alright?"

"Yeah, everything's great." He scratched the back of his head, "Hey, listen, I just wanted to say... thanks. For giving me a job. I should have said it sooner, but I don't know. Guess I got kind of preoccupied, or something." Belle's face lit up, and Spike turned away. "So, yeah, anyway. Guess I'll get back to work."

"Okay. Let me know if you need anything." She picked up the dress, but as Spike began to leave, she spoke up again, "What are you doing after you're done here?" He was a little taken aback.

"Well, nothing, I guess."

"Do you maybe want to go out with me?" Spike stared at her, his jaw drooping. Belle gasped, blushed, and shook her head, "Sorry, not like that. I mean, do you want to come hang out with me and my friends?"

"Oh." Spike tried to brush it off, but was a little disturbed to realize he was disappointed. Disappointed? Belle was a pretty girl and all, but she wasn't anywhere near his type. He liked wild girls, crazy girls. Girls willing to go on adventures, and do anything. Belle was... normal. Stable. She probably wouldn't do anything more exciting then go out to an R-rated movie. Still, he couldn't deny it - he was a little bit let down. Before he could stop himself, he saw an image of him and Belle, kissing, writhing against each other. Him touching her, smelling her, feeling her breath as she gasped in his ear... he shook himself out of it. "Who all would we be meeting with?"

"Do you remember Applebloom and Scootaloo?" Scootaloo he remembered. He had played soccer with her when he was younger, and had bumped into her frequently in high school. Applebloom he knew only in passing.

"Vaguely."

"Well, we all went to high school together. I meet up with them every once in a while, and we hang out. Nothing special, just maybe karaoke, or some video games or something."

"You play video games?" asked Spike, honestly intrigued.

"What? Just because I'm a girl, I must not like video games?"

"No, no, nothing like that. It's just..." he fought for the right words. "You don't seem like the kind of person who would be into that."

"Well, we enjoy it. So, do you want to come?"

"Sure, I guess," said Spike, shrugging his shoulders.

"Great! I'll just drive you there after work."

"Sounds like a plan," said Spike.

"Cool. Now get back to work," said Belle with a grin.

"Whatever you say boss."

~

The rest of the work day passed by with little incident. Belle had yelled at him for being to rough with some silk, but overall, Spike considered the day a success. He could have screwed up a lot worse.

"See ya Belle," he called behind him as he walked out the door.

"Hey, wait! I thought you were hanging out with me."

"Oh, right." He hadn't really forgot about it, but he guessed some part of him hoped Belle had. The more he thought about it, the more he worried that hanging out with her might not be a good idea. He was into different stuff then she was. Plus, he wasn't so sure about these friends. When he thought back, he couldn't remember Scootaloo or Applebloom ever torturing him, but he thought he remembered a few funny looks. But he had already said he would, and he didn't have anything else to do...

"I can't believe you forgot already," said Belle, shaking her head. "That's what all that pot will do to you - it kills your short term memory."

"Who told you I smoke pot?" asked Spike. "Let me guess - Twilight."

"Nope. It wasn't a big secret that you and your stoner buddies used to get high behind the gym." Belle let out a little giggle, "Oh, you guys thought you were so clever. None of you ever considered that you might be stinking the whole gym up." Spike felt something fall into the pit of his stomach. "I can't believe none of the teachers ever caught you. You must have been one lucky guy."

"Lucky, yeah." Spike nodded his head. He felt a little ashamed.

"Don't be like that. Everyone does that kind of thing when they're young."

"Did you?" At his question, Sweetie Belle seemed to change. A devious grin spread over her face. She looked around, as if someone might be lurking in the corner. She came closer to Spike, until they were standing almost nose to nose.

"Do you promise not to tell Rarity?" whispered Belle.

"Cross my heart."

"I did it one time." She put her hands to her mouth to stifle a giggle, "It was at some party. It was stupid, I know, but I thought why not? You only live once, right? And to be honest, I didn't even feel it."

"No one does the first time," said Spike. He was surprised he could even talk. Of all the things... he never would have guessed in a million years that Belle might try something like that. It was... cool.

"Is that so? Huh, I never knew." Belle reached into her pockets, and pulled out a ring of keys. "Well, I don't plan on doing it again. It was a one time thing, just some silly little high school experiment." She walked out the door, and held it open for Spike. Spike gave her a murmured thanks, and Belle locked up behind him. She walked over to her car (a small, pink thing that matched her personality), unlocked it, and opened his door. They slid in, and Belle started it up, "The girls are really excited to see you, by the way."

"They know I'm coming?" asked Spike, frowning.

"Of course. I can't just show up with some random guy and be like, 'oh by the way, this is Spike, he's hanging out with us.' I texted them and let them know. They can't wait to see you." said Belle, giving Spike a little nudge on the shoulder.

"Oh yeah, I'm sure."

"No, really. They've been wondering what happened to you after school."

"Why? They barely even knew me."

"Like you don't wonder what happened to your classmates after school?" Spike thought back, and realized there were a few people he wondered about occasionally. There was this one cross eyed girl who had always talked about being a mail person. And a massive dude that looked like he had to be on steroids.

"Yeah, I guess you're right. Say, whatever happened to that one cross eyed girl? What was her name? Derpy?"

"Oh Spike, that's rude. Her name is not Derpy," said Belle, shooting Spike a dirty look.

"Really? What did you call her?" Belle lowered her head, and said something quietly into her lap. "What? I'm sorry, I didn't hear you."

"Ditzy, Spike. We called her Ditzy."

"Oh, well that's soo much nicer," teased Spike.

"Shut up you jerk!" She exclaimed, but she had a smile on her face. They rode in silence for a while - but not an uncomfortable one. They were both lost in their thoughts. They would think of school, of work, of times past, and times yet to come. But inevitably, their thoughts would lead back to each other.

~

"Well, we're here," announced Belle. They had stopped at the old farm that Spike would frequently walk past.

"Sweet Apple Acres? People live here?"

"They do indeed. Come on," said Belle, shutting off the car, and getting out. Spike followed closely behind her. She led him up past the sidewalk, through a gate, and into a grove of apple trees. Spike reached up to grab an apple, but Belle shot him a look. "I wouldn't do that if I were you," warned Belle. Spike withdrew his hand, and smiled sheepishly. They walked until they got to a large white house. Spike followed Belle up a flight of stairs, and onto the front porch. Belle knocked, and after a minute, the door opened. An absolute hulk of a man stood at the front door. His hair - almost as long as Belle's - was dirty blond. He wore overalls, and a piece of hay hung out of his mouth.

"Hey Big Mac. Is Applebloom home?"

"Eeyup," answered Mac laconically. He moved away from the door, and let the two walk inside. Spike nodded at the man, who simply raised an eyebrow in response. The walked into the living room and found two girls sitting and chatting. He recognized them both - they were friends of Twilight's. One - a thin girl with rainbow colored hair - he knew as Dash. The other - an earthy looking blond - was Applejack. They both looked up as the two walked in.

"Oh hey Belle!" said Applejack in greeting, giving her a little wave. "And... Spike, right? Don't you live with Twi?"

"Yeah, I do. Nice to see you again Applejack. Same to you Dash," he said, giving a little wave to the other girl. Dash waved back.

"So Dash," said Belle, clasping her hands together, "I heard you were getting married!"

"I am!" Dash squealed, sticking out her hand. On it, a large diamond ring sparkled. Both Applejack and Belle cooed at it.

"How did he propose?" asked Belle, bouncing on the balls of her feet.

"You know how we first really connected at the cabin? Well, he took me back up there, a year after we first went. We spent a wonderful few days together, and then, after everyone else went to bed, and it was just the two of us... he proposed! Oh, it was great. And of course I said yes on the spot," said Dash. She seemed to be fully engrossed in her speech, reliving the moment. "The wedding is in a few months. We're going to be sending out invitations soon."

"Oh, I can't wait!" shouted Belle, doing a little dance.

"It took him long enough though," said Applejack, nodding to herself.

"Well what did you expect?" said Dash. "We're talking about-"

"Hey Sweetie!" called Applebloom. Belle and Spike whirled around. She was making her way down the stairs, fixing her bouncy red hair. She wore a tight fitting black shirt, and a pair of dirty work pants.

"Applebloom!" Belle ran over to her, and the two embraced. Applebloom looked over Belle's shoulder, and Spike gave her a hesitant little wave.

"Hey Applebloom. I'm Spike. We went to high school together."

"O' course we did!" said Applebloom, walking over to Spike. She was a lot taller then Belle - almost as tall as Spike. She was built like her sister - sturdy, curvy, but very pretty. "I remember you. You were part of the crew that was always skating around, making trouble and stuff."

"Aww come on. We didn't make a whole lot of trouble," protested Spike.

"Really? Wasn't it you guys who snuck all those chickens in on the last day of school?" Spike burst out laughing. That was one of the highlights of his high school experience. He and his friends - as a senior prank - had snuck in a whole crate of chickens, and loosed them upon the unsuspecting populace. The Principle nearly tore all of his hair out trying to wrangle them all.

"All right, maybe we did cause a little trouble," admitted Spike. "But it was all in good fun."

"Oh really? One of those chickens pecked some kid in the eye. He went blind." Applebloom stared him down, and Spike felt horrified. Then, she burst out into a fit of giggles, and Belle joined her, "You should have seen your face!" Spike stared in disbelief, "It was a joke buddy! Lighten up."

"Now Applebloom, that's not very funny," chastised her older sister.

"Oh, what do you know, you big stick in the mud." Applebloom wiped a tear out of the corner of her eye, and slapped Spike hard on the back. "You're a good sport kid." Kid? Spike was pretty sure he was older then her. "Alright, let's get the hell out of here." The three of them walked to the door.

"Be careful!" shouted Applejack after them.

"We will!" shouted Applebloom. After she shut the door, she whispered to herself, "She better take that stick out of her ass before she gets splinters." They walked to the car, and Applebloom gave Spike a challenging look.

"What?" asked Spike.

"Shotgun!" shouted Applebloom. She reached down, unzipped her pants, and pulled them down. She was wearing a rather revealing red thong. Spike nearly fell over. "Well come on! Your turn!" Spike tried to say something, but his mouth couldn't form words. Belle was doing her best to suppress her laughter, but her chest was heaving, and tears streamed down her face.

"I don't think he knows how to play shotgun," said Belle between laughs.

"Oh. Well, it's easy. If two people want shotgun, they pull their pants down, and race to the car with their pants around their ankles. Whoever gets there first gets shotgun, loser gets the bitch seat," said Applebloom motioning to the back of the car.

"You can have shotgun," muttered Spike, still dazed.

"Well you're no fun at all, are you?" sighed Applebloom, pulling her pants back up. She got into the car, while Spike stood there for a minute.

"Anytime you want to put your eyeballs back in your head and get in the car would be great," said Belle, still crying a little.

"Right." Spike pulled open the backdoor, and got in. Belle started the car, and they were off.

"Man, I shouldn't have worn this thong today. It is going right up my ass," groaned Applebloom, wiggling in her seat.

"Are you for real?" asked Spike.

"What?" said Applebloom.

"She takes some getting used to," said Belle, shaking her head.

"Who am I trying to impress anyway? It's not like anybody's getting laid tonight," sighed Applebloom. She then shot Spike a look, and gave him a little grin. "Well, maybe I shouldn't speak so soon." She tipped him a wink, and Spike could only gape. Belle turned to Applebloom, and they gave each other a serious look. Then, out of nowhere, they both burst out laughing. "Oh man, your face man... your face. Sorry dude, it's not anything against you, you're just not my type."

"Yeah. You have the wrong parts," said Belle, giving a sage nod. Spike raised an eyebrow.

"The wrong parts? What does that mean- oh!" gasped Spike, suddenly realizing what she meant.

"A little slow, ain't he?" chuckled Applebloom. Belle nodded, and they both shared another laugh. Spike couldn't help but feel a little like a punching bag. "Well, who knows. Maybe me and you..." Applebloom nudged Belle, who only rolled her eyes.

"Sorry baby, if I was into chicks, I'd pounce on you in a second," said Belle.

"You'll come around one of these days," said Applebloom.

"Oh I'm sure," said Belle. She looked into the mirror, and caught Spike's eye. Belle motioned towards Applebloom, and mouthed, 'She's nuts.' Spike laughed. Applebloom turned around, and addressed Spike. "So, what team are you battin' for?"

"I'm straight, thanks for asking," muttered Spike.

"I figured. I can tell pretty good," said Applebloom. "I still get some surprises though. I still can't believe Scooter hasn't come around. I thought she would come out before I did."

"Speaking of Scootaloo..." Belle pulled the car over. Scootaloo stood outside, on her stoop. She was more tan then he had remembered - she was almost brown. She had cut her hair short, and gelled it so it came up in little spikes. She was dressed very much like Spike would be - a loose, torn white shirt, and dirty jeans. The three got out of the car, and Scootaloo ran towards them. She gave Applebloom a running hug, and soon after embraced Belle. She turned towards Spike, and stuck her hand out.

"Hey Spike. Remember me?" she asked.

"Of course I do Scootaloo," said Spike, taking her hand in his. She suddenly tightened her grip, and pulled Spike towards her. She gave him a spine crushing hug - all the air rushed out of Spike's lungs.

"How have you been dude! I thought you like, died or something!" she squealed.

"Nope, I'm alive. But if you keep squeezing me like this, I won't be for much longer!" He choked out. Scootaloo released him.

"Sorry about that. I get a little intense with the hugs sometimes," Scootaloo said.

"No problem," Spike responded, rubbing his sore ribs.

"So, you guys wanna come inside?" asked Scootaloo, to which they all murmured their assent, and followed her. She lived in a small brick townhouse, no different from any of the others that lined the long boulevard. She opened the door for them, and the group filed inside. The front entrance was cramped, but homey - a small TV, with a Wii hooked up to it, and there was an old red couch flanked by two large bean bag chairs. Scootaloo collapsed onto the couch, and the two girls jumped onto the beanbag chairs. Spike sat on the floor, Indian style. He also noticed a stairway, which led to a second level.

"So, how are Octy and Scratch?" asked Belle.

"You can ask them yourselves, if you want," said Scootaloo. "Octavia! Vinyl! The girls are over!"

"We're busy!" came the shouted answer from upstairs.

"Yeah, 'busy'." said Scootaloo, putting her fingers in a V and sticking her tongue between them.

"I wouldn't mind getting busy with them," said Applebloom, rubbing her palms together.

"You are so gross," said Belle.

"You'll come around," said Applebloom.

"So, what do you guys want to do?" asked Scootaloo.

"Well, we could play some Mario Kart," suggested Belle.

"We always play Mario Kart," muttered Applebloom.

"I have an idea," piped up Scootaloo. "Why don't we let our guest decide?" The three girls looked at Spike.

"Well, I don't know. Anything you want to do is fine," said Spike.

"Oh good, a really take charge guy," said Applebloom, throwing herself backwards onto her bean bag.

"Hey, wait a minute!" shouted Scootaloo. A smirk appeared on her face. "I'll be right back." She got up of her couch, and ran into another room.

"Uh-oh," said Belle. "I know that look. That look is never good."

"You're right," said Applebloom. "That look isn't good - it's awesome. Spike, I think you came over on a perfect night." Scootaloo returned, holding two bottles of Everclear and a deck of cards. She set down the booze, and began shuffling the cards.

"Kings?" she said, shooting the girls a look. The girls nodded.

"What's kings?" asked Spike.

"Really? You've never played kings?" asked Belle. "I thought you and your friends were little deviants."

"Well, we didn't play a whole lot of drinking games. We just kind of... drank," admitted Spike.

"Fair enough," said Scootaloo. "We'll tell you how it goes as the game progresses." She shuffled the cards, and set them in front of the bottles of Everclear. She motioned to Spike and the girls, and they all crowded around the booze. She opened one up, and pointed a finger at Spike. "Since he's new, I suggest he goes first."

"Sounds like a plan to me," said Applebloom.

"Well, what do I do?" asked Spike.

"Just pick up a card, and show it to all of us," answered Scootaloo. Spike picked up the top card of the deck, and showed it to the girls. It was the four of spades. Immediately, all of the girls took their hands and placed them on the floor. Spike stared at them, utterly confused.

"Drink bitch!" whooped Applebloom.

"Four is for floor," explained Scootaloo. "When you draw a four, the last person to touch the ground has to drink."

"But I didn't know that..." Spike wanted to protest, but all the girls have him a glowering look. "I'll just drink." He lifted the bottle, and took a sip of the Everclear. It burned - badly, "Damn! That shit is toxic!"

"Nectar of the Gods," said Scootaloo. "Alright Bloomie, your turn." The game continued on for some time - Spike had trouble remembering all the rules. Most of them rhymed - two for you, three for me - but some of them were confusing. It was made even worse by the fact the girls knew the game, and he didn't. After a few rounds, he already had a hell of a buzz. It got back around to him, and he picked up a card - an ace of spades. Belle gave a nervous little giggle.

"Questions... very, very interesting," cackled Applebloom.

"That can't be good," sighed Spike.

"It's very simple, actually. Each person gets to ask you a question, and you have to answer honestly," said Scootaloo.

"What if I don't want to answer?" questioned Spike.

"Then we beat the shit out of you," said Applebloom, in a matter of fact way. She looked like she could do it to.

"All right, fuck it. Let's do it," muttered Spike.

"Okay, I'm first!" shouted Applebloom. She looked Spike right in the eyes. "How big is your dick?" Belle gasped, and Scootaloo started laughing so hard that she fell over. Applebloom continued to stare him down, but she to busted out into laughter. "I'm just kidding, I can't ask you that. All right, all right, real question - how many girls have you slept with?"

"Oh, that one is so much better," murmured Belle, who's cheeks had turned a bright red.

"Three. I've slept with three girls," answered Spike.

"Only three? Shit boy, I've slept with more chicks then that!" said Applebloom. "You need to step your game up."

"You are drunk!" hiccuped Scootaloo.

"Ain't that the pot calling the kettle black," laughed Applebloom. "All right Belle, your turn."

"What's your favorite color?" said Belle, putting her hands behind her back.

"Laaaaaame!" shouted Scootaloo, sticking her tongue out at Belle.

"Blue," said Spike, giving Belle a little nod of thanks. Belle smiled, understanding.

"All right, my turn!" Scootaloo came up to Spike, and grabbed his arm.

"Spike... how big is yo dick son!" she squealed, and both her and Applebloom burst into uproarious laughter.

"Oh for goodness sake," sighed Belle, putting her head in her hands.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I couldn't help myself," snorted Scootaloo, tears running down her cheeks. "Okay, all right, real question- what do you think of Belle?" The four sat in silence for a while, as Spike chewed over his answer.

"I think she's a very nice girl, and I'm very grateful that she gave me a job," Spike said. Applebloom and Scootaloo sighed, and Belle gave him her own nod of thanks.

"What a boring answer," said Applebloom. "Screw it. I don't need a game to get drunk!" She took the cards, and flung them up into the air. "Let's just get shitfaced!"

"Here here!" shouted Scootaloo, taking a long swig from one of the bottles.

~

The night rolled on. They played drunk Mario Kart, drunk checkers, and even dragged down Scootaloo's roommates (who - interestingly enough - Spike also remembered from high school). The two trouble making girls didn't collapse until three in the morning. The were rolled up against each other on one of the bean bags, sleeping contentedly. The older girls, Vinyl and Octavia, had snuggled down into the other a while ago and Scootaloo had drawn a mustache and monocle on Octavia, saying that she could blame it all on Vinyl and they'd both believe her. The only reason he was still lucid was because he'd begged a break to have a smoke outside, the cold air and nicotine doing a good job of temporarily sobering him a little. On the other hand, he had no idea how Belle was still awake.

"They are gonna feel terrible tomorrow," giggled Belle. The color had returned to her face, but it had nothing to do with embarrassment. Spike himself was having trouble not falling over - and he was still sitting on the floor.

"I can't believe I almost missed this. This was fucking awesome," said Spike, swaying back and forth.

"I'm glad you came Spike," said Belle. "Believe it or not, I missed you. I really enjoyed hanging out with you when were were kids, you know? You were like, my cool friend. And even in high school, I liked being with you. Even if you did get a little... wonky," said Belle.

"I missed you to," said Spike. He scooted himself over to Belle, so they were sitting across from one another on the floor. "You were always so good to me. Even when I was at my wonkiest, you made sure I was taken care of. You're just... super cool."

"You're pretty cool yourself," said Belle. She scooted closer to him. "Hey Spike?" she whispered.

"What's up?"

"I think you should kiss me now." Spike gently put his hand on the back of her neck. He brought them close - he could feel her breath on his skin. Their lips met. Although they were both drunk, they felt the kiss rock through the core of their beings. It wasn't like any other kiss they had ever had before. It felt... right. They broke apart, and stared at each other for a long time.

"I'm going to go to sleep," said Belle. "I hope I remember that in the morning."

"So do I," said Spike. They both knew that they would. Belle clambered up onto the couch, and Spike collapsed onto the floor.

"Good night Spike," yawned Belle.

"Good night Belle. I..." the rest was lost on him. His mind slowly drifted away into darkness. He dreams were filled with fields of white.