AN:Written about a year and a few months ago. My second foray into MLP fanfiction, though not my first foray into fanfiction entirely nor my first written piece. Submitted to EqD for their little Draw/Writefriend contest in ... April of 2011? Something, anyway. Your choice at the end determines what happens. Or you can just read the sad ending first and the happy one next.
"Spike, where are you going?" Twilight clopped her way across the new entry rug, towards her youthful assistant. "It's late, why don't you get into bed?"
Spike's shoulders rose, like the heckles of some angry beast. "Out. Me and Applebloom are going out tonight, or didn't you remember?" The coldness of his voice, the way he didn't turn to look at her made Twilight feel . . . unwelcome somehow.
"Oh, that was tonight?" She grinned halfheartedly, trying not to appear confused. "I'm sorry, I guess I chose a poor night to sort through my notes on ancient civilizations, huh?"
Spike didn't answer. He and Applebloom had planned this night for weeks now. He had reminded Twilight every day since and even four times today itself. And yet she still dragged him into more of her organization fits. He hadn't really had time to prepare but he wasn't going to be late. Not for Twilight's sake.
"Why don't I help you..." Twilight finished her sentence, her assistant whirling around suddenly with anger and hurt filling his eyes.
"WHY DON'T YOU LEAVE ME ALONE!?" He shouted, not caring if it brought everypony to their windows with the noise. "Why can't you just remember one LITTLE THING FOR ME? Why do you ALWAYS push on me YOUR needs but forget mine?!" He was panting, his eyes stung with tears.
"Sp-Spike? I-I-" Twilight stammered, her own eyes tearing up. She had forgotten but surely this wasn't the only reason for the explosive display.
"Why can't you be supportive, Twilight? Why can't you be there for me? You're never there for me, damn it! You're not my mom!" And with that shout, he turned and stormed out into the night, leaving Twilight stammering and crying in her library. He wiped at his own face, ignoring the tears that were there. Applebloom was waiting.
"Spike, what's the matter?" Applebloom, far from the young filly she once was, had blossomed into a fine young mare. Her cutie mark, an apple painted on an easel, always drew his eyes. She was a fine artist now, a fine, well, everything. Spike sighed into his 'special', an orange drink mixed with pulverized gemstones. He had gone all out with tonight's dinner but the crushed diamond in it was untasted, wasted on his tongue tonight.
“It's nothing Applebloom, just . . .family matters.” He absentmindedly stirred his drink, a frown plastered very surely on his features. His date sighed. Once, she would have pestered him into opening up. She had changed, slightly, with age but she still wanted to know. To help. But she didn't push the issue. Not tonight.
After several hours of slowly warming to each other, the young mare and her dragon escort made off for Sweet Apple Acres, the rolling farmstead Applebloom shared with her sister, brother-in-law and now ancient grandmother. The date had gone well, the coldness Spike had felt had melted away and he was happy, for the first time in a long time. And yet, under that happiness was something else. A cold knot of . . . guilt.
The moon, Luna's silver disc, shone down on the couple as they threaded their way through the apple orchard. Spike had always loved the feeling of moonlight and he was glad for the walk. He and Applebloom spoke about the trivialities of the day, though Spike explicitly didn't mention Twilight or his explosion. Applebloom, knowing that Spike had only her and Twilight to call family, didn't push the issue.
“Spike, I had a wonderful time.” The fairy lights danced off her eyes, a thousand stars that twinkled and spun. She smiled, that warm and true smile, a hallmark of her upbringing. “Maybe next time I can lead you home?” He winced and she along with him. “I'm sorry, I forgot . . .”
“No, no, it's ok. Look, Applebloom. I'm sorry I was so distant earlier. I had a lot on my mind.” Spike rubbed the back of his neck. “Twilight and I, well, it's been getting tough.”
“I'm sorry Spike. But you love her like a sister, right?”
“Yeah . . .” His heart wasn't in it. She was more than a sister to him. She was everything. Friend, sister, comrade in arms, shoulder to cry on . . . and though he didn't want to admit it, to himself especially, she was the closest thing he had to a mom in the world.
“It'll turn out fine, my dragon knight.” Applebloom put her arms around his shoulders and nuzzled his face, turning it towards her. “Just remember that you love her and she loves you and everything will turn out fine.”
Looking deep into her eyes, he could almost believe that.
The stars looked beautiful tonight. Spike was wandering close to his home, the home he had shared with Twilight for, gosh, years now. It was home, more home than the dormitory rooms at Canterlot University had ever been. It was comfortable. He realized he had been smiling, standing in the middle of the road that led around the ancient and hollow tree. It was late and nopony was around and for that he was glad.
He thought of the first time they had touched down in Ponyville. The Summer Sun Celebration. Twilight had been so focused on studying Nightmare Moon she failed to see the friends she was making. How nice, how . . . how much like home it felt, even then. He briefly wondered how different their lives would have been had the Princess not sent them to this little, homey town.
Spike knocked himself in his head. What was he doing out here at Celestia-knows what hour getting lost in his thoughts? He had never been one for sitting around thinking about his feelings and his family and other, girly garbage like that. He was Spike, dragon extraordinaire, assistant to . . .Twilight. He knew why he was standing here, so late at night, desperately wanting to go into his own home and desperately afraid to do so. He sighed, again, for the fourth time tonight, and opened the door.
He knew something was wrong as he opened the door. It was dark and, though it was late, it felt wrong. Quiet. Spike rattled one of the fairy lights, causing the motes to brighten up. Twilight usually studied late, what was the library doing so dark? He cautiously moved into the foyer, one hand holding the fairy light like a charm against the night. Against the quiet, the odd stillness.
“Twilight?” His voice shook, it was just nervousness about the dark. He tried to convince himself of that fact. “Twi, where are you?”
Her writing desk was empty, as was her bedroom, though it was much messier than he remembered. Books were scattered about, some with . . .torn pages? Twilight would never damage a book like that. Spike felt his heart pounding in his chest. Something was very, very wrong.
“Twi!” He shouted, running through the rest of the library. Kitchen, empty. Work rooms, empty. That hidden basement, empty. Where was she? Had something taken her? Had something happened? He felt tears begin to well in his eyes, felt them fall as he scrambled through the library.
That's when he noticed the bathroom door. It was shut, open a bare crack. It was dark. Twilight never shut it. No matter how many times he asked her to keep it closed, she always left it wide open. Spike felt a lump in his throat. She probably just fell asleep in the tub, he reasoned. She's just asleep. He pushed the door open
The faucet dripped into the tub, a single splash of clear against the red, as another drip struck the tile floor. A more pure red against the white. Twilight's head lolled in a sick way against the edge of the porcelain, the color almost drained from her face. The crash of the fairy light as it hit the floor went unnoticed. The way the motes danced freely in the air, it was a mockery.
“Oh Celestia why?”
SAD
HEART WARMING
HAPPY ENDING
The daylight looked so peaceful, filtering through the closed blinds. Spike rubbed his neck, a nervous tick he had developed over a few years of embarrassing accidents. Though he was nearing twenty years of age, he was still very small compared to the ponies around him and his feet swung child-like under the waiting room chair. Applebloom sat next to him, her warmth a comforting presence next to him. He fought the urge to lean into her, to breathe her scent, to relish the life that was his filly-no, his mare.
“Mister . . . er, Spike?” The nurse pony looked up from her clipboard, scanning the room. At his name, he nearly leapt into the air.
“Coming, coming!” The nurse blinked as the young dragon ran over to her. That was unusual but it wasn't her business. Next of kin was the pony's choice, she supposed.
“This way, please.” She nodded curtly and turned on her heel. The patter of feet told her that the dragon was following and closely. He seemed used to running after the longer-legged ponies. Still, she slowed a tad. No reason to be mean to the poor dear, after what he had probably gone through.
Spike had always hated hospitals. The sterile smell of cleaner and the white, blank walls and floor . . . for some reason, it always set him ill at ease. Maybe it was because he knew death walked these halls. Now, however, he barely paid it any heed.
“Room 217, Mister Spike. We'll leave you to it.” He thanked the nurse and, taking a deep breath, stepped into the room beyond.
The blinds were drawn, shutting out even the hint of Celestia's sun. In the dim light that peeked through the gloom, Spike could see the mountain of flowers, cards and other get-well wishes that ponies were liable to heap on one another whenever they got ill or injured. And there, on a bed in the middle of the room, a slumped a familiar mound.
“Hey Twi.” The mound twitched, trying to make herself smaller. Spike winced. “I, ah, I don't know what to say, really. You've not let anyone in here since, ah, since that night. I, ah . . .”
“Go away.” Twilight's soft voice cut through the darkened room as easily as it cut through Spike's heart.
“No Twi. You've pushed everyone away, barred the door to your friends. Princess Celestia herself came down to see you, you know. You didn't even turn your head when she came in the room. Twi, she cried. The Princess cried.”
The mound didn't respond. Spike sighed. He wanted to shake her, to slap her and yell and, and, and just scream. But he didn't He didn't because he knew why they were really here. He knew whose fault it really was.
“I'm sorry.” Twilight's ears perked up but she made no other movement. “I'm sorry for, for everything Twi. I'm so-sorry for running out, I'm sorry for what I said. I'm sorry Twi. I just want you back.” Spike slumped to the floor, his legs suddenly too weak to hold him up. His eyes were filled with tears, his voice caught in his throat.
“Twi, what I said was a lie. It was all a lie. You're, you're my family. You're all I have apart from Applebloom. You're my big sister, you're my friend, you're my . . . you're my mom. Twilight, I can't lose you. Please, please come back. Please, please, please . . .” He kept repeating himself, thumping the floor with his small fists. The tears flowed freely now. Eventually his voice broke and his small frame was wracked with sobs.
Somepony gathered him and hugged him, held him. She was crying too.
“Spike, I thought you hated me.” Twilight forced her voice to come, through the ache in her throat. “I thought you didn't want me around anymore. I, I've never really been alone since I hatched you. I was so afraid, Spike, of loosing you. Of seeing my little dragon push me away. I wanted so much to have you there, to have you back but I thought you were gone forever. I'm sorry, I'm sorry.”
They held each other for a long while, their sobs blending together. It hurt. It hurt worse than broken bones, worse than being caught in a lie. It hurt but there was joy in it too. No matter what, they were family.
THE SAD ENDING
Spike sat, his eyes staring at nothing. He felt lost, cut off. Drifting. Rubbing his neck, a nervous tick he had picked up from years of embarrassing accidents, he sniffed through the rainy air.
“I guess, I guess that's about it Twi. Applebloom and me, we broke it off. Can't see me still a youngling while she's a grown and full mare. I mean, sure it was fun, but let's be realistic.” His fingers reached out and idly stroked the pale, white marble 'T' in front of him. “Celestia wanted me to stay around, be a scribe. I dunno, it's not really the same.”
Spike looked around, the rows of tombstones blending into the gray, overcast sky. The Weather Patrol had listed the day as sunny but a few favors called in and it matched his mood better. Rain droplets streamed down his face, down his suit, an old gift from an old friend. He looked into the sky, his tears blending well with the rain.
“I'm thinking of going off into the forests, finding a nice cave. Some nice gems. Watching the seasons turn, the days go by. I, I think that'd be nice, ya know? I, I'm sorry Twilight.” Fresh tears stained his water-streaked face, pouring like rain. “If only I had been quicker home, if only I hadn't waited to go home. Home! My home, OUR home! If only I wasn't afraid. I, I miss you Twi.” He choked, a familiar lump in his throat.
“Twi, I want you back. Please, please come back. I'm sorry.” he looked up at the royally commissioned statue of the young mare, her face serene, a hint of a smile crossing her lips. “I'm sorry for, for everything Twi. I'm so-sorry for running out, I'm sorry for what I said. I'm sorry Twi. I just want you back.” Spike's voice caught in his throat, trying to move around that lump that never seemed to be far these days.
“Twi, what I said was a lie. It was all a lie. You're, you're my family. You're all I had apart from Applebloom. You're my big sister, you're my friend, you're my . . . you're my mom. Twilight, I can't lose you. Please, please come back. Please, please, please . . .” He kept repeating himself, thumping the immaculately tended grass with his small fists. The tears flowed freely now. Eventually his voice broke and his small frame was wracked with sobs.
After a time he stood, a sigh far too large for his tiny body escaping from his oddly dry lips. His suit was muddy and wet, he was cold and Twilight was still gone. It had been a few years since that day but Spike never had forgotten the last words he had said to his mentor, his teacher, his mom. Not even Celestia could travel through time and he had a long, cold life ahead of him.
He turned around and walked away, the rain dancing in the air, almost mocking.
