On the north side of Ponyville, a somber little building once bustling with life was nearly empty. It didn’t have a name, nor would it have been remembered if there was one; the rare visitors took to calling it Applespice Café, after the tankard of apple cider it used to be famous for. Over the years, ponies became too busy with their lives to take a few minutes and visit, while the memories of the place slowly drifted away.
One visitor, however, came to rid himself of his own memories, forging new ones with the café’s owner every time he went for a warm mug of cider.
‘The usual, Spike?’ a light-brown earth stallion asked behind a mahogany counter as he cleaned a crystalline mug.
‘The usual, Cheers,’ Spike replied over the bar, hopping up on a nearby bar stool. ‘The view sure seems nice today.’
Spike was looking through a large, clear window off the side of the bar, the horizon illuminating against the darkening fields and trees that lay in between the café and the setting sun. The orange glow was one Spike had seen many times before at that exact spot, albeit with a different thought plaguing his mind.
‘Some of my famous Applespice Cider it is!’ Cheers proclaimed with a smile, removing the cleaning rag from the mug as he approached a rust-handled tap. ‘Nothing to talk about today? You’re usually in the mood to vent or talk about... well, anything, really. Is she on your mind again?’
The owner was met only with silence as his friend merely stared at the glowing ball of light that slowly made it’s way out of sight.
‘Spike?’ A foamy outburst crept over the edges of the tankard as he let his grip on the tap go. When he handed the dripping mug of cider to the guest, silence still remained. ‘Is something the matter?’
The only response he made was a slow reach for the glass with his claw.
‘You know what? That tankard is on me today. I actually had ten visitors throughout the day, and I seem to have made a slight profit... besides, what she did for the community—what she did for all of Equestria, really—is worth more than what a silly glass of cider could ever be worth.’ Still no response. ‘Look, I know it’s troubling you, okay? But you’ve been coming here for nearly a year, and as your friend, I’m a little concerned ab—’
‘It’s her birthday today,’ Spike replied, emotionless as he continued to remain fixated through the window. ‘At least, it would have been. As long as she had never met me all those days ago.’
A pang of guilt surged through Cheers at the dragon’s words, shifting slowly towards the back door to give Spike a moment of peace.
‘Don’t worry, you didn’t do anything wrong. I’ll be finished when the sun is down.’
Darkness began to creep out as the sun’s presence faded almost in its entirety. With the final passing moments of its departure, Spike drew in a deep breath and let it all out slowly.
‘She loved to make wishes on her birthday, especially when the sunset came out. No wishes I could make would bring her back, though. Yet I come here every day to talk with you, making a wish. I figured eventually it would come true, right?’
Cheers nodded his head, wondering whether responding at all was a good idea.
‘I’m trying to forget the past, Cheers. I’m trying so hard that I even neglect cleaning her old living space because I have a sneaking suspicion that she’ll chastise me for coming in without permission.’ Spike turned to Cheers, showing neither kindness, nor sorrow. ‘I bet Pinkie’s pretty upset that she can’t throw a party for her birthday... ah, they left town shortly after she was gone. She wouldn’t know it was her birthday anyway.’
Cheers cleared his throat and silence filled the room. ‘Well, Spike,’ he began, ‘I’ve talked to you a lot about, well... yourself, but I’ve been through something like this too.’
‘Huh? Ah...’ Spike looked down guiltily at his untouched mug of settled cider. ‘I think one day I’ll be the listener for you... but it can’t be today. I’ve got too much on my mind.’ Whistling away any guilt still present, he reformed a grip on his tankard and began to take a good, long swig.
‘I won’t get into detail, but the event still taught me something that I think you’d do well to heed.’ As Cheers spoke, Spike cleaned off half of his drink and set it back down on the table. ‘If you don’t like the past, or think that it’s too unbearable to deal with anymore, just give yourself some kind of closure. Close out the bad thoughts, leave only the good ones behind.’
‘Well, how do you think I should go about doing that?’ Spike said, squinting in the dim moonlight shining in from the window. ‘It’s not like I can just forget about what happened a year ago and keep all of the other memories. It’d be impossible to keep both.’
‘You said yourself that you haven’t even touched her living space in all that time; dealing with that could be your closure. An acceptance of her loss, if you will.’ Cheers smiled, leaned a hoof over the table and placed it softly on Spike’s slumped shoulder. ‘And since it’s her birthday, I’m sure it shouldn’t be too hard to bring the old memories back in. You’ll make it through this, Spike.’
Spike took another passing glance towards the window, shook his head and returned to his glass, quickly draining away the last of the frothy substance down his gullet. ‘It’s nice that you think I can just end this today, but it’ll take more than a pep talk to cheer me up. Thanks for the effort though, Cheers.’
‘Don’t give up on yourself like that, just go do what you need to do.’ Cheers lifted his hoof off of Spike’s shoulder and proceeded to take the tankard, depositing it in a large plastic bin underneath the counter.
‘I’d like to pay for my glass myself, if you would be so kind.’ Spike reached into a small leather pouch hanging around his neck and pulled out a couple of tiny, gold-coloured coins. As he leaned over his bar stool and stepped down, he passed the bits forward on the bar table. ‘I’d prefer to not feel like a charity case. Whatever she did for the community, I didn’t do myself. I’m not her.’
Cheers solemnly accepted the bits, scooping them down into another plastic bin underneath the counter. ‘Spike...’
Spike was already out the door.
~|R|~
Maybe he’s right, maybe I just have to let everything go. No point living in a happy town when you’re sad all of the time...
On the southern path heading home, guided only by the glistening moonlight dimly lighting up the path, Spike scoured his brain for any memories he could muster of his long lost friend.
It’s so hard to picture it in my mind... Cheers is right. Everything he said is right, and I know it.
Spike stopped as his feet brought him to the base of the library he calls home. After letting a deep sigh escape him, he opened the door and walked inside the tree, where the lighting was eerily familiar to him—dimly-lit from moonlight shining through the windows.
Heh, guess it’s yet another night I come home late. Not like I’m busy or anything.
After blowing a touch of glowing green flame into a lantern hanging by the entrance, the entire tree brightened up.
Through the light, Spike could clearly see the spotless, seemingly untouched floor beneath his feet. Books were categorized perfectly by colour and name, trinkets were organized neatly on shelves and not a single place anywhere looked untidy.
One thing that he hadn’t expected to see, though, was a purple stream hanging from the ceiling, a red balloon hovering a few inches from the ground and a large banner hanging from the entrance, inscribed with alternating rose and purple lettering stating: “Happy Birthday Twilight!”.
‘This...’ Spike racked his brain for memories, ‘...I don’t remember doing this.’
Spike turned back to the immaculate floor. ‘Spotless again.’ Spike walked over to a broom leaning against a bookshelf and grasped its splintered wooden handle. ‘Well, might as well keep it that way.’
In a practiced, familiar motion, Spike’s claws shifted from side to side, the broom following suit back and forth across the already spotless floor.
‘I’ll just sweep all night and idle my mind, and only then will I forget about her. I might end up feeling nothing at all, but isn’t that what the sunset is for?’
Spike’s claws began darting from side to side a little more vigorously.
‘I guess I haven’t really done much... no. It doesn’t matter. If I have to do the same thing day after day, so be it.’
The movements came even quicker, Spike staying put right where he stood. His head turned slightly to the side as he continued to increase the pace of his strokes, keeping his gaze fixated on a dusty, untouched bed topped with a star-covered blanket on the upper floor.
‘No, Spike. Don’t pay attention that; it wouldn’t be right to go digging in there.’
He could not keep his gaze from the bed until his broom slipped away during a stroke, his legs giving way underneath him. As he slowly rose from the floor, no longer clutching the broom, he took another glance at the bed above him.
‘Well, I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to give it a quick peek.’
Forgetting about the broom, the cleaning job and the party decorations, Spike began making his way up the staircase—also cleaned and shined to perfection—towards the bed on the far side of the floor.
‘Here we go, Spike. We can—oh, what’s this?’ The curious dragon’s eye caught a faded, thin corner from an unknown object sticking out from underneath the bed. Reaching out his claw towards the bed, he took it without hesitation and ended up with a rolled up piece of parchment held secure by a faded red ribbon. ‘Reading material? Anything to keep my brain idled, I suppose.’
A white tag attached to the ribbon read out “To Celestia” in hastily made ink. His curiosity piqued even further, Spike quickly undid the ribbon, allowing the parchment to unravel in his hands.
‘Huh, this is to Celestia?’ Spike’s eyes lit up, emotions of surprise beginning to fill his eyes as they widened. ‘Why didn’t she send this?’
Dear Princess Celestia,
Spike’s condition has been getting more and more extreme by the day. He is still in a comatose state, inching closer and closer to death with every shortened breath he takes. Whatever illness he suddenly contracted is still unknown to me, but the eventual result is unquestionable. Recording symptoms and effects for somepony else to find and hopefully research.
A thought came to mind regarding his survival one day, and I was thinking about the only magic you taught me personally, the one where you can transfer your life force to another living being.
That’s the action I’m going to take.
I know that I am seen as an important pony for Equestria, but if I really was who ponies made me up to be, then I wouldn’t let my best friend die while I do nothing about it. This action will kill me, but I will refrain from sending you this letter until the life force I expend brings me to the brink of death, so that you don’t come and change my mind for me.
I wish you and the rest of the kingdom the best. But most of all, I want you to take care of Spike.
Your faithful student,
Twilight Sparkle
P.S. If anypony happens to be reading this, then that means I was somehow unable to send this letter in my weakening state. If this is somepony other than Spike, please send it to Princess Celestia as soon as you can so she can understand my motives. And don’t show Spike, he’ll just think that he brought this on the world through his actions.
And if Spike is reading this, don’t give up hope. Just because I’m gone doesn’t mean that this is the end for you. I did this because I couldn’t let a friend go.
Don’t let yourself go.
P.P.S. The medical note on Spike’s condition is enclosed.
Spike’s face stared blankly at the parchment, the enclosed file slipping from his hands and falling to the floor. After several moments of empty thoughts, he took on his expressionless self once more and rolled the letter back into his claw.
Ignoring the file still lying on the floor, Spike made his way back down the staircase, eyeing the broom lying in the corner. Without hesitation, he made his way towards the broom, grasping the worn handle once more.
But this time, he just stood there, not making any sort of movements with the broom. Thoughts began going through the days for the past year, recalling the tears, the confessions and all of the anger he felt at himself that he vented out to Cheers.
His thoughts began to drift back to the letter, reminding himself of a line near the end.
‘Don’t let yourself go.’
The letter fell to the floor and Spike stood staring, blankly, into thin air. The broom’s movements resumed their usual pace. Something was trying to creep out of him, something he had not felt in some time—it was quickly smothered by the image of a sunset.
He yearned for Applespice Cider, nothing more.
