In the darkness, Spike felt safe.
No danger, no future, no past. Just warmth and safety. He wasn't afraid. The weird sensations he felt all over his body were just that: sensations. They even tickled a little. Spike couldn't focus on them for too long, simply because he didn't want to. He simply wanted to float. Float and forget.
He was aware of his body. Not aware in the sense that he acknowledged his existence. Aware in the sense that he suddenly knew every curve, every nook, and every cranny of his physical self. In his mind's eye, Spike saw himself. It was like he was both inside and outside of his own body, undressing his outer layer to reveal the squishy interior.
He could see his own piercing eyes, the roundness of his form, the chubby little fins protruding from either side of his body....
What?
Spike opened his eyes. Really opened them. His consciousness rushed back into his body all at once, but somehow he was still floating. The void evaporated, taking with it that intoxicating feeling of comfort and security. Light was seeping into Spike's world, but he felt as if he was being slowly crushed.
Through a wobbly haze, he saw five faces he immediately recognized. They were distorted, but the features were recognizable. They were his pony friends, each peering at him with identical expressions he couldn't quite understand. It didn't matter. All that mattered was that they were out there. Spike wasn't alone.
“Hey guys,” he said. “Could you get me out of here?”
But the words didn't leave Spike's mouth. He heard them in his own brain, their echo bouncing off the walls. He tried again, attempting to open his mouth and actually speak. But the words hit an invisible barrier and fell back into his own mind.
The sensations were back. They had become more intense and much less easy to ignore. Spike felt like he was burning. He flailed, trying to shake the inferno off of his body. But somehow that only made it worse, as if he was flopping around in a puddle of lava. He could feel the slow evaporation of his physical self as parts of him burned away. He could feel the heat moving inward, spiraling deeper into his body until it hit bone.
Spike screamed for help, but the words hit the barrier. Again, louder this time. And again, they didn't leave his mouth. As he struggled to speak, he realized something.
He was a pufferfish. That was why he couldn't speak, why his body was round, why he had fins. He had no claws, no ability to breathe fire. He could wiggle around, but the confines of his prison allowed very little more than that.
Spike had—as an automatic self-defense measure—puffed up in an attempt to free himself. But his prison had simply expanded itself to accommodate his size. Puffing up was the only thing he could count on and it hadn't done anything.
He tried to remember everything that had happened. Hadn't they been talking with Queen Novo? He remembered her face. Stern, angry. No, not just angry. Wrathful. She'd wanted retribution. She'd wanted to punish them. Was this Queen Novo's punishment? Trapping Spike in some kind of sack-like object to slowly disintegrate him? But why him? Why were all his friends just standing outside and watching?
“Ah, you're awake.”
The cheery voice caught Spike off guard. He tried to whirl around, but he couldn't force his body to move. But he recognized the voice. It didn't come from outside. It didn't even really come from inside. It was floating somewhere between, pushing his scurrying thoughts aside.
“Twilight?”
The name burst inside his brain. When her voice replied to him, Spike felt he could have burst into relieved tears.
“Oh good. I was afraid you wouldn't remember.”
She sounded slightly distant, but incredibly blissful. Her tone contrasted so dramatically with Spike's circumstances that he nearly believed he was having an auditory hallucination. But dream or not, he had to try. Timidly but with hope, Spike replied.
“Can you get me out of here?”
Twilight was silent for an entire minute. Spike started to believe that he really had been hallucinating her voice. Everything around him already felt too surreal to be part of his reality.
“I can't do that,” Twilight said finally.
Spike could see his friends shifting their positions a little. They didn't look quite right. The faces were normal, but their bodies were much narrower and lacking the features that would have marked them as equine. They'd changed just as he had, becoming creatures of the ocean. But why weren't they helping him?
“Why?” Spike said. “Just use your magic.”
He wasn't sure what was going on. His head was spinning as he tried to comprehend this reality, putting the past and present together to form a cohesive picture. He saw Queen Novo's angry—wrathful—face, the faces of his friends, the deepest and darkest part of the sea. But it was all burning away, like someone had set fire to the pages of a book. His body was being engulfed, but at a pace that was much too slow and through. Spike was melting, dissolving, ceasing to be. But he couldn't move.
“Oh, Spike.”
Twilight sounded condescending, like she pitied Spike for not understanding.
“Hurry!” Spike pleaded.
He didn't have the energy to be angry. He could only whine, not caring if he sounded like a spoiled foal begging for a piece of candy. Spike's prison was shrinking, slowly closing in on him as the inferno dissolved his body. He was terrified he might not be able to see his friends' faces anymore, but also terrified that those faces might be the last ones he ever saw.
“You have to understand,” said Twilight. “It's the natural order of things.”
Spike's friends were huddled together, a group of not-ponies staring at him. He felt like an attraction at a zoo.
“What are you talking about?” said Spike. “Just get me out of here. Please.”
Then it hit him. The slow evaporation of his body, the squishy yet resilient texture of his prison. It wasn't some kind of transparent sack. It wasn't even really a prison, except in an abstract sense. It was a stomach. Spike was being digested.
“It's the natural order. You know that. I taught you about it.”
Twilight sounded so calm and rational, like she was explaining how to solve a math problem. She almost sounded mechanical, as if she'd nearly forgotten that she was a pony with ambitions, emotions, and ideas.
“The natural order?” said Spike blankly.
His friends were floating outside. He was now certain it was them. In an instant, a sharp picture of their features flashed across his mind. Emotionless. They had become hollow, without life or purpose. Just a collection of impulses. But why not Spike? Why hadn't he been spared? He wanted to be numb, innocent of what was happening to him. But he was aware, so aware that he could feel every corner of his body as his prison pressed into him and his round form was steadily absorbed into the fire.
“Help me,” he said.
No answer. He wished he had claws to scrape, fists to pound. Even if it was fruitless, he wished he still had limbs with which to thrash and protest. Even if that heat had eaten through his scales, Spike would have preferred to be himself.
Spike wanted it to be over so he could face oblivion, but the process seemed to have slowed. The inferno was moving towards his center, absorbing everything in its path. He was surprised he was even holding on. The feeling alone should have driven him into liberating madness, yet he remained horribly aware of himself and his circumstance. From outside to inside, squeezing and burning its way towards what was left of his mind.
“Help me!” he repeated.
But Twilight seemed to have left him for good. Whatever portion of her conscious mind had invaded his own had retreated, leaving Spike to his fate. Leaving him to watch as his pony friends observed disinterestedly, leaving him to feel his own body dissolving.
“The natural order” she had said. Predator vs. prey. Sometimes prey won. Sometimes prey escaped. But not this time.
Once Spike had been completely digested, Twilight faced her friends. Her gaze roamed from blank stare to blank stare, taking in their complete lack of interest. She no longer saw anything remotely sapient in those eyes. They'd all given in, becoming nothing more than instinct.
Twilight smiled. It hadn't taken her friends long to turn. She was far off herself, but at least she understood what she was going to become. That was why she hadn't resisted. Perhaps that was what had slowed down the process. Maybe that was how Spike had stayed himself for so long.
Her eyes settled on Applejack—or at least the fish creature that had once been Applejack—with a wide smile. She was still hungry. Famished. Hungry as, well, a horse. But there were no hooves to be found anymore. Merely fins, a triangular body, and a remarkable new ability Twilight appreciated. She wasn't even sure what type of fish she was. She should have known, but that knowledge had vanished into the bottomless pit her mind was steadily becoming.
Applejack turned and swam away at an admirable pace. She was quick in her fish form. But Twilight knew she was quicker. And she just so happened to love a good chase.
She started off after Applejack. Eventually, Twilight would forget about Ponyville. She would forget everything. This was her life now. Deep, dark, and eternally free.
