The Spike has Been Berried

by Ghost Mike

Rating: everyone
Tags: Slice of Life, Berry Punch, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Spike, Twilight Sparkle
Length: 6035

After a distressing experience, Spike volunteers around town to make amends. When he gets to Berry Punch, he isn't quite prepared for her… particular brand of eccentricity.

In the wake of a distressing experience, Spike has been helping out around Ponyville. He doesn't have to, but he feels he needs to. And while not every day has gone great, most have. Already he's feeling better about… what happened.

The last pony on the schedule, Berry Punch, isn't someone he knows much beyond being the town's premier fruit drinks vendor. He certainly isn't quite prepared for her… particular brand of eccentricity.

A different tack may be needed to make this productive.

This story was written as a gift for Winter_Solstice as a part of Jinglemas 2022. Happy Hearth's Warming!

Hit the FIMFiction Featured Box on Dec 27th/28th 2022!
Featured on Equestria Daily, December 11th 2023, and previously on January 16th 2023 for 25 More Fanfics to Read for Dragon Day.

Published 2022-12-27 18:20:00 UTC
Last updated 2022-12-27 18:20:00 UTC

Of Dragons and Ponies

Perched up on his tippy-toes, Spike knocked sharply three times on the house’s front door. He curled his claws behind him, waddling back and forth on his feet in the snow. Despite the thick layer of the stuff, it wasn’t too nippy, least for a dragon, thanks to a bright sun overhead and clear skies provided by the weather team. Honestly, he probably could have come without winter wear, except he hadn’t checked what the pegasi had scheduled for later.

He didn’t have to wait long. The door promptly opened, revealing a plum earth pony mare with a cutie mark of grapes and a strawberry. Once her eyes found him, her puzzled expression swapped for a wide smile.

“Ah Spike, there you are, bang on time! Daisy wasn’t kidding about you being punctual!” Berry Punch pushed the door open fully and stepped to the side. “Don’t dawdle in the cold, come on in!” Spike jogged inside, careful to wipe his feet clean on the doormat as she shut the door. “You can hang your gear there,” she said, gesturing to the stairs.

“You, uh, heard that from Daisy?” Spike hesitated slightly as he went up the first two steps and dropped his hat and scarf on the banister’s end. “What else did you hear?”

“Eh, not much.” Berry Punch shrugged as she turned and headed further into the house. “That was just what carried when she and Roseluck were setting up in the market the other day.”

Spike made to follow, glancing around to take the place in. Not for the decor – he’d visited enough dwellings the past few weeks to observe that, while his friends might live in unique houses, most Ponyville abodes were very architecturally similar. This one was no different, only a few photos and the contents of a hallway stand setting it apart. No, he instead took in the general tidiness, and so far, it was reasonable, if a bit unkempt. But Spike supposed being the town’s premier fruit drinks vendor was a busy occupation, as they went.

“So!” Berry Punch stepped sideways as she entered what appeared to be her kitchen, though with many living room adornments: clearly, this was her base of operations. “You’re here to help out for the day, yeah? All I know is you started doing this for everypony after that incident where you –”

“That’s right,” Spike inflected as much energy as he could into his interjection. He’d been through this enough times by now, he knew how to skate over any probing. “Sorry you’re the last one I’m getting to. But when Twilight and I crunched the calendar with everypony’s schedules, this was the best spot for you that wasn’t a bottleneck for others.”

“Pff, you kidding?” Berry Punch chortled, dismissing his explanation with a wild hoof wave. “Soon as I heard, I expected to be bumping right up against Hearth’s Warming. Do you know how busy a season this is for me? I only take the one day off a month in winter before the holiday itself.”

Spike smiled slightly, already feeling a little better. Most everypony else had been similarly appreciative – he wouldn’t soon forget how warm and nurturing Cheerilee was – but you could never be presumptuous.

“So, what do you want me to do?” Spike clasped his claws together and looked around. Past a largely vacant counter and a floor-level desk at one end, he found his attention drawn to some fruit supplies near the fridge. “I could help you make some drinks –”

“No, no, that’s quite alright,” she cut in, almost as suddenly as he had earlier. “Eh…” Berry Punch scanned around herself, face scrunched up. “Here.” She walked around him to the corner, then stepped back into view with a broom. “Why don’t you start with a sweep and a tidy? I’ll have something else for when you’re done.”

“Uh, sure,” Spike said, doing his best not to let his face droop as he took the broom. Already, on instinct, his focus honed in on a dusty corner, though he couldn’t quite convince himself he was as okay with this as he outwardly projected. This was by no means the first time he’d got dismissed to regular chores, but given a key reason for all this was not wanting to feel like a burden to anypony, he couldn’t pretend it didn’t sting a bit.

Reminding himself it would all be behind this evening, with the prospect of a delightful, untroubled Hearth’s Warming with his friends ahead, he started to drive the dust balls out of hiding.

“Finished!” Spike re-entered the kitchen, a black garbage bag in one claw, a pan-and-brush in the other. Looking around, he saw Berry Punch snap up from the floor cushion she was seated on by the desk.

“Wha?” She pulled off her reading glasses, laid them down by a mostly full glass, and blinked at him. “The whole house? Already?” She glanced at a wall clock, though Spike kept his focus on her; he already knew it was only a bit past noon. Quickly, her prior wide, energetic smile returned.

“Wow, and in half the time it’d take me. Not bad, kid!” She stood and trotted over to the counter. Taking this as a good sign, Spike replaced the sweeping utensils in their corner and set the bag down by the bin. “Put your feet up, we could both do with a break. I’ll fix us some drinks.”

You had to hoof it to her, Spike thought, as without prompt, she sprung into action, pulling up several glasses and cases of fruits. Spike lifted himself up onto a stool and watched for a while: Berry Punch flipped berries up and caught them with deft precision in the containers, shaking and redistributing them to a rhythm she clearly had down pat.

With a flourish, she poured the final result, a light-blue mixture, into two glasses. “Here you go!” She topped one off with a decorative umbrella, then pushed it forward. “Don’t wait up on me!” Still not quite used to her exuberance, somewhere between Pinkie and Rarity when in the zone but with a slightly more hooves-off drive, Spike nonetheless complied, pulled the glass closer, and took a sip.

He was instantly rewarded with an influx of heavenly energy, not unlike a gem cupcake in juice form. Eyes wide, he took a proper intake. “Wow, this is amazing!” He set it down and regarded Berry Punch, a smug-yet-fair smile on her muzzle. “I mean, I’ve had your fruit drinks before, but this one’s new on me! You’re great at keeping them varied!”

“Yeah,” Berry Punch chuckled. She leaned back and raised her glass with a smirk. “I am pretty good at fruit drink recipes.”

As they both sipped away, though, Spike couldn’t help but let his mind return to his earlier dilemma. Soon as they were done here, he’d be back to little tasks, and while they helped, he had to do more. To make up for… well, he had to do more. But he knew better than to breach this head on – his stint last week with Carrot Top had shown him that. He looked around, and then noticed the corner desk, where near some papers, there stood a glass, still mostly full of a deep red liquid.

“Wait,” Spike wondered out loud. He paused to let Berry Punch set down her glass. “Don’t you already have a drink?”

“Oh, that?” Berry Punch glanced briefly in his line of sight. “Yeah, but Pinot Noir’s more of a work drink. Great for sipping away at while in the zone, but not ideal for a burst of energy.”

“A work drink, huh?” Spike took a closer look at the table. Alongside a pristine sheet with fresh hoofwriting among the printed variety, he spied many smaller slips of paper, a chunky hardback open on a page with minuscule writing, and an abacus with the colored beads split across the rows at different intervals. “What are you working on?” Something with statistics, that much was clear.

Berry Punch took a slow sip, eyes scrunched up. Spike waited, claws tapping lightly on his glass. He knew he was already pushing his luck, even with his intentions concealed behind casual chat, but he couldn’t help it, he felt compelled. Besides, her treatment of him thus far, while friendly, had felt a bit… off. Probably Twilight’s influence, but he couldn’t help but be curious why.

Finally, Berry Punch set down her glass, now half-empty. “Alright kid, how do I put this…” She took a slow yet calm gulp. “When a pony buys and sells on their own for a living, every so often, they have to…” She waved her hoof around, absentmindedly following suit with her drink. “Take a note of each sale and purchase, and total the figures up every now and then.” Evidently satisfied, she raised the glass, guzzling down more juice.

“You mean you’re doing your sole trader accounts.”

Spike had to admit, Berry Punch had great control when it came to chugging, for though her eyes snapped open in a flash, and she lurched slightly, she didn’t come anywhere close to a spit take. Once she’d swallowed, she turned to find his brows arched and one claw propped against his waist. “You, eh, got all that?” she said slowly, looking halfway between astonishment and a foal caught swiping from the gem jar.

“Berry Punch, I grant I’m young, but come on.” Feeling he could be a bit more assertive, he folded his arms and arched an eyebrow further. “I am Twilight’s assistant.” Gaze held, he waited for this retort to sink in.

After a few moments, Berry Punch let out a light chuckle, her face softening to an embarrassed yet sincere grin. “Okay, yeah, fair enough. I guess I deserve that.” She set down her drink, then leaned closer and gave Spike her full, undivided attention for the first time thus far.

“I’m sorry, Spike,” Berry Punch said. “I shouldn’t have talked down to you.” He was quite surprised to see her eyes wobbling. He was even more surprised to find that, suddenly, he wasn’t bothered anymore.

“It’s okay,” he said, rather faster than intended, “don’t worry about it.” Berry Punch pursed her lips, but quickly stretched them into a smile.

“Here, I’ll get us a refill.” This time, with the ice broken, Spike let himself relax as she tossed berries and grapes airborne, deftly catching them with well-timed container positions. Even when his focus returned to her papers, he didn’t fully drift away.

“So, today’s your accounting day then?” Spike asked nonchalantly.

“Yep,” Berry Punch replied, winking as she shook two horizontally held containers to co-mingle quicker. “Most boring part of the job, honestly, but it’s gotta be done. Can’t risk an audit going sour.” Already, Spike felt oddly warmed, just by that offhoof term she didn’t even bother to explain. Not too late a turnaround after all.

“I used to outsource the lot,” she continued, setting down the mixture to add the next fruit, “but that ate up a chunk of my profits, so I figured I’d try and save by doing the busywork myself.” Spike nodded, then casually slid off the stool. This didn’t seem to register or alarm her, as she chuckled again. “Don’t think I’ve got the same knack for it that I do for drink mixing, being frank.” As Spike reached the books, he observed, out of the corner of his eye, Berry Punch whipping out another decorative umbrella for his glass. Then, she hesitated, and put it back. Though he liked them, he found he didn’t mind this.

“Right now I’m banging my head against the optimal tax breaks on expenses…” Spike distinctly heard her trailing off, but barely noticed. Now, as he glanced between the receipts, the ledger, and the abacus, he noticed a pattern.

“Spike?” Nearly jumping, he turned, finding Berry Punch over him, an eyebrow raised half in curiosity, half in suspicion. Good thing he was already onto something, or he might have been in trouble. This time, his flair for pushing had paid off.

“Listen, Berry Punch, I think I see one problem.” He reached out and plucked up a stack of receipts. “You’re filing all your purchases under the normal expenses rate, but that only applies to non-local orders.” He separated a portion and returned them to the pile. “Anything that’s made locally, like Strawberry Sunrise’s… well, strawberries…” Registering the absurdity of what he’d just said, Spike shook his head. “Long as it’s a regular purchase and above a certain threshold, you can claim back a small tax credit, as that’s a boost to the local economy.” He leaned forward and slid one colored bead across a row on the abacus.

When he turned to Berry Punch, Spike found her mouth agape, looking for all the world like she’d seen a cockatrice. “How… How did you know that?” she eventually uttered.

Spike was ready to answer, raising a finger. Then, he paused. “I… I dunno.” He scratched his head, pondering. He’d spotted an opening for a solution both to her problem and to his: he hadn’t stopped to consider where the knowledge came from. “I guess I picked it up when Twilight was going on about the benefits of placing new library orders at the bookstore here instead of ordering from Canterlot.”

Berry Punch closed her mouth, adopting a thinking look much like his. She sat on her cushion, plopped her reading glasses back on, and lifted some receipts close. One hoof darted between figures on the ledger and beads on the abacus. Recognising the telltale signs of somepony in the zone, Spike said nothing. After Twilight, he could wait moments like these out quite patiently, least when it mattered.

A minute later, Berry Punch’s eyes lit up. Not hugely, and they dimmed slightly as she looked at him, but there was no mistaking it. “Spike, I know this is gonna sound pretty weird, but rather than more chores…” She hesitated, but to her credit, it was only for a second or two. “You want to help me get through this?”

With a bright grin at his success, Spike plonked himself down on the other cushion. “You bet! As Zapp of the Power Ponies says, ‘Thunderpegasi are go!’” Reaching out, he pulled the abacus closer, where they could both use it. “Let’s get to work!”

Berry jotted down a figure in the thick-bordered box at the ledger’s bottom. “Phew!” With a satisfied finality, she slotted the papers into a folder and clamped it shut. Spike followed suit by sliding all the abacus beads to the left, then clumping the receipts back together. “And here I thought that would spill over into tomorrow before the savings got optimized. Instead, it’s only mid-afternoon!” She tipped her folder in the direction of the clock, the hour hand barely two-thirds down the right side.

“Can’t thank you enough, champ.” Berry took off her spectacles and gave Spike a wink. “You know things most adults don’t!”

Spike grinned as he followed Berry across the room. “Nah. Sure, I had to consult that Accounting 101 guidebook nearly as much as you. I just know my way around boring legal instructions.” A handy skill to be sure, he mused, and it meant they’d been able to optimize a small stretch where Berry crunched some numbers while he made a meal to keep them energized. Just a couple hay sandwiches, but a task he relished, as he often did when it came to food preparation.

“Even so, you really helped out.” Berry pulled their fruit drinks from the fridge, where they’d been left to refrigerate post-lunch. Spike took his glass and tipped it against hers, the pair downing their gulps in synchronization.

It hadn’t been a bad day after all. A rougher start than he’d have liked, granted, but a little assertiveness had got a good rapport going. Berry remained a bit of an enigma, somepony he hadn’t quite puzzled out, but now her prior exuberance, something Spike had already been vaguely familiar with from seeing her in the market on many mornings, felt more natural. Less like an autopilot reflex.

One thing was clear, Spike thought with a smile. He hadn’t been a burden.

“Well,” Berry piped up, lowering her glass, “you’ve definitely done more than your fair share.” She flashed him a grin. “You can head on home, while it’s still light out –”

“No!” Spike yelled. Startled, Berry backpedaled, retreating by a few hooves.

Realizing what he’d said, Spike gathered himself, took a deep breath. He couldn’t cover that up, but he could at least brush past it. “No thanks. I should keep going until the evening. I did the same with everypony else.”

“You sure?” Berry questioned. Spike gave a nod, gentle but firm. She considered his proposal, hoof to chin, humming softly.

Eventually, this vibed, for her familiar grin returned. “Well, you did mention helping with my drinks, and I’m always working on new recipes.” She led the way to floor-level cabinets by the fridge, and Spike followed. “Been trying to crack a new warm ‘n’ toasty beverage for Hearth’s Warming, but it’s missing that extra kick.” She pulled the cupboards open wide: inside lay several large barrels, a few drinking tankards, and what looked like a distiller.

“But…” She leant down and gave him a playful nudge. “With you around, I’ve got a secret ingredient on loan.” Off her ecstatic, almost manic beam, Spike grinned, though not without a nervous chuckle, and certainly not with quite the same drive she had.

Still, Berry was the town’s premier fruit drink pony, and he had seen firstclaw how fast her cart could sell out on a good day. Convinced, Spike grinned wider and pulled out some tankards while she grabbed a barrel. She knew what she was doing.

With an almighty belch, Berry slammed her tankard down with enough force that the leftover water nearly sloshed out. “Okay… I think that’ll do.” She suppressed a heavy breath, then wiped her forehead. “Note to self: dragonfire does not add a safe spicy kick to drinks.”

“Yeah, well, it could have been worse,” Spike chimed in as he turned off the tap above the sink. He hopped down and jogged his way over with another full tankard – he knew she’d still have a bit of a dry throat if she stopped now. “Least I can breathe fire that won’t send stuff to the Princess. Imagine if I couldn’t turn that off!” Despite her groggy state, Berry laughed lightly. By her amused expression, Spike knew she’d just had a near-identical vision to his own, of a barrel appearing over Celestia’s head, catching her off guard. And the likely puncture on impact with her horn, soaking her in berry juice.

Berry gave the clock a wary glance, then to the window outside, where already the sky had dimmed notably. “Okay buddy, I’m almost up and at ’em. You mind stowing the lot away?” With the freshly filled tankard, she gestured to the various mixing utensils and containers they had out. “Minus anything too big, I’ll do those in a sec.”

“Sure, you got it.” Flashing a smirk, Spike grabbed two tankards and walked off with a spring in his step. Only because he knew Berry was well fine, of course: he’d toned down what fire he had blown into the concoction. Even he knew better than to add the raw stuff to something a pony would down.

“Looking forward to Hearth’s Warming then?” she called, followed up with a fast-yet-controlled chug.

“You bet!” Spike looked back long enough to show his enthusiasm beyond what his voice could project alone. Just thinking about it had him practically skipping to the cupboard. “Princess Celestia asked me, Twilight and our friends to perform in the Canterlot pageant this year.”

There was the smallest of muffled gargles that sounded like an approval. “Wow, big honor!” An impressed whistle followed. “Who are you all playing?”

“Rarity, Rainbow Dash and Pinkie Pie are the tribal leaders, while Twilight, Fluttershy and Applejack are their helpers.” The tankards now stowed away, Spike went back to the counter, where Berry had just gulped down the last of the water. “I’m the narrator.”

A pause followed as Spike took the last tankard to the sink to rinse and wash. “Oh,” Berry said eventually. “That sounds a bit… small.”

Spike chuckled, already done and on his way back, and thus able to see Berry’s confusion at his downplay. “You’d think so,” he replied, picking up the distiller as she slipped down to grab the barrel, “but I looked through the script, and the Narrator actually says more than anyone else. And not by a small margin either.” He decided it best to leave out his boasting of this discovery to Twilight, and her resigned grumble, funny as it was. “Balanced ensemble cast, I guess.

“And with my take on the part…” With the last items stowed, Spike cleared his throat, to which Berry paused in her barrel-rolling. He held himself high and proud, putting on the voice he best felt like what the Ponies of old Trottingham might have used. “I am sure it will be a most delightful tale to enrapture our fair audience.” With an amused guffaw, enlivened no doubt by all the bad jokes they’d shared over the past few hours, Berry shoved the barrel back in the cupboard, then closed it.

In the ensuing silence, Spike felt an air of finality. But unlike earlier, he felt no need to divert or extend it. No, as he and Berry looked at each other, he felt content. He’d helped out big time, he’d gotten to know her, and he hadn’t been a burden. With the whole town now aided, while he couldn’t say every day had gone smoothly, most of them had.

Now, he could finally put it all behind him.

“Well, thanks again, Berry Punch,” Spike said, his claw held out. Slowly, she extended a hoof, though he did his best not to pay her bemused look any heed as he shook it. “I had a great time helping out today. I guess I’ll see you around.” With a grin and a wink, one of several they’d made into a thing over the day, he turned to leave.

“Spike, wait.”

He stopped cold in his tracks. Turning back slowly, he found himself affixed with a stare that was half curiosity, half judgment at trying to slip away. “Before you go, tell me something.” She trotted over to the desk and sat down. “Why have you really been helping everypony out ever since then?” She patted the cushion beside her, with an air that suggested this wasn’t up for debate.

Spike sighed, though he managed to let a resigned chuckle out. “That obvious, eh?”

“You don’t serve berry mixtures and fruit drinks to ponies as long as I have without learning to read them.” Once Spike sat down next to her, she leaned closer, supported with one foreleg so she was nearly at his eye level. “Same goes for a dragon raised by one.”

“I guess I wasn’t hiding it well, was I?” Spike muttered. Hardly something he’d been denying, he’d just counted on ponies being too polite to say anything. The others invariably had been. “I know the town forgave me for it – sure, they got the damage repaired lickety-split.” He looked sideways, finding a corner plant very interesting. “And my friends got me to be okay about it, really they did. But it just felt like something I had to do, you know?” When he turned back, Berry’s eyes were now set in a neutral stare. “I just… had to find a way to show everypony I appreciated them. Even those I barely knew.”

Berry regarded him, then cocked her head. “You’ve always been helping ponies, haven’t you.” It wasn’t a question. “First Twilight Sparkle, now others too. I get that, more than you know. My career is basically serving ponies.” She reached for the Pinot Noir that had remained untouched for a few hours, swirling it around. “But it’s important to be your own pony. Or dragon, as it were. There’s more to one than what they can offer others.” She held out the glass and observed him through it, her raspberry pink mane almost blending into the wine. “Sometimes, the most important one to treat is yourself.” With her familiar smile, Berry casually sipped away.

“But… Getting treats is what started all this.” Off Berry’s raised eyebrow, Spike rubbed his head awkwardly: should he admit any more? This time, brain won out over gut. “Twilight and my friends gave me gifts for my birthday, and I felt really good about it. I know I shouldn’t have, but I kept pushing a bit further for more, and that… triggered some kind of hoarding instinct.”

Now redder than the Pinot, Spike curled up. Recalling what had happened out loud brought it back to the surface in a way he’d suppressed for several weeks.

“Hm.” Berry squinted an eye at her glass, but Spike knew by now he had her full attention; this was just how she mulled matters over. “This never happened before, right? Don’t know anything about dragon biology, but it’s a bit odd that gifts from just six ponies would be enough to do that.”

Spike was barely even aware of forming his next words before they came out. “Well, before Ponyville, I’d only ever gotten one present each year. A book from Twilight.”

There was no mistaking the briefest of frowns on Berry’s face, and not the most pleasant one either. But once she spoke up, it was gone. “There you go. Your system was so used to just the one, it didn’t know how to process an uptick of that scale. You had no way of knowing what your limit was.” Sipping at her wine, she scooted closer. “Take it from me, knowing the limit is important. Breaking it ain’t wise for a pony neither.

“But!” In a flash, her exuberance was back, though it did not dilute her prior sincerity by any means. “Now you’ve had this experience, your limit’s much higher. You’d have to expand to more than, like…” She paused, one hoof absentmindedly gesturing towards the discarded abacus. “Forty gifts next time, for that to happen again. Long as you watch out, and keep yourself surrounded by those who watch out for you, you’ll be just fine.” She reached out and lightly pushed his shoulder.

Spike didn’t even have to put effort into the face-breaking grin that broke out. “Thanks, Berry Punch.” Half-glancing at the clock, he decided he could afford to push his luck further. “Can I ask you something too?”

“Sure, fire away.” She leaned back, back to swirling the leftover Pinot again.

“You weren’t just brushing me off earlier because of your accounts, were you?”

To her credit again, Berry only blanched briefly at being called out. “Heh, guess I can’t hide much from you either, can I?” She set down the glass, then leaned closer. “I’ll be frank, Spike: I barely know how to deal with foals. And yes, I know, you’re not exactly a foal; growing up alongside the Princess’ personal student had you mature fast in many ways, that’s clear from today alone.” Slowly, she reached out and patted his shoulder. “Still left me with only fallbacks earlier.”

After the day they’d had, Spike didn’t even consider judging her for this. Instead, he focused only on this new puzzle. “Not good with foals?” Spike furrowed his brows. “But… didn’t you win the Sisterhooves Social? I heard about it from Rarity and Sweetie Belle. I even saw your ribbon upstairs.”

Berry sniggered, and her eyes flicked to the ceiling. “Aren’t you quite the detective? Yeah, I did run with Piña Colada, and she was over the moon afterwards. She’d every right to, we wouldn’t have won if the Apples had been competing properly. And I was glad to get something to occupy the dusty space next to the 3rd Place Ludo ribbon. But she sees me rarely enough that she does all the interaction: all I have to do is spend time with her and she thinks I’m the bee’s knees.” She sighed wistfully, a vulnerability Spike hadn’t seen before present. “I’m just never quite sure on the best balance, so I default to being jolly but keeping them at leg’s length.”

“Hm.” Spike cupped his chin. He certainly didn’t have an answer for her as quickly as she did for him, but he did have something. “I think I get it. Honestly, sometimes I don’t know how to deal with foals either.” Memories resurfaced of the Crusaders’ mayhem, all while they paid no heed to his attempts to keep them behaved – he shuddered.

“I suppose it comes down to projecting confidence, not an issue for you –” Berry blushed, though Spike only noticed this due to their proximity “– plus knowing when to put your hoof down, but never treating them like they’re beneath you. Not the same as presuming they know what they’re doing!” He gestured rapidly to dismiss any false implications. “I’ve been around… certain foals more than enough to know that way lies trouble. But, you know, I’m not exempt from that either. Nor are adult ponies, really.” He leaned over and nudged her side with a wink.

Berry smiled, nudging him back. “You may well be right. And you might not be the only one here who got something to think about too.”

“Listen, Berry…” Spike paused, and then went for broke, going in and hugging her leg. “Thanks for holding me back. I think I needed that.”

A hoof reached atop his head spines, rubbing them gently. Not too close, it was only a friendly gesture, but close enough. “Anytime, champ.”

Right as they parted, Berry’s eyes lit up. “Oh!” She scooted backwards, then stood up, prancing excitedly in place. “Before you go, I’ve got something else! Wait here.” With surprising speed for one who’d been sipping Pinot all day, she was off, into the hallway and up the stairs. Left in a daze, Spike could only wonder what in Equestria had occurred to her.

“Twilight, I’m home!” Spike shut the library door before too much snow drifted in from the light wind. Once he’d wiped his feet and shook off the excess, he waddled inside. There was a cozy fire in the hearth and a familiar purple unicorn curled up nearby, a book propped open. She turned, then started at his arrival.

“Spike!” Quickly up on her hooves, Twilight trotted over to meet him, a wide smile across her face. “Guess you made today another full one, eh?”

“You bet!” Spike ducked out of instinct to avoid a gentle slap as Twilight floated his hat and scarf off and over to dry by the fire. “You know me, I don’t do anything halfway.”

Twilight rolled her eyes, then paused. “What’s that?” Her focus dropped to Spike’s side.

“Oh, this?” Spike lifted up the package clasped under his arm, something cuboid hastily encased in leftover wrapping paper. “Berry Punch gave it to me. Extra Hearth’s Warming gift.”

“Oh?” Brows furrowed, Twilight levitated it up, flipping it around. “Did she say why?”

Spike shrugged. “Not really. She just said it was something she’d never been able to get into, but thought would be a good fit for me.” Twilight pursed her lips, but seemingly satisfied, deposited the box by the small pile of presents in the corner.

“So, Spike…” Twilight turned back to him, a sudden quiet in her voice. “Did your last day go well?”

“Yeah, it did,” Spike replied, equally softly. “Pretty great, actually. I helped Berry Punch out a lot, and we really got to know each other. Wasn’t like anypony else either. You’ll enjoy some of the details,” he added slyly, elbowing her knee lightly.

“I’ll look forward to that,” Twilight said, too used to this brand of wit to give it the time of day. She then leaned down, coming to his eye level in a manner rather familiar after today.

“Spike, now that you’ve done this…” she whispered. “Do you feel okay about what happened?” Her eyes quivered as a small breath escaped. “Do you think you can… move on now?”

Finding a groove in the wood very captivating, Spike gazed down. For a few seconds that felt much longer, he thought on these words, compelled to look deep as he could, and be one-hundred percent blunt on what he’d achieved.

“You know… I think I do.” He lifted his focus from the floor, seeing Twilight hardly daring to believe him. “I think I’m ready.”

“Aw…” With a sniffle she tried and failed to pass off, Twilight pulled Spike into an embrace, one he had no trouble returning just as tightly.

“You didn’t have to do all this,” came Twilight's voice beside his ear frond. “You knew that deep down.”

“Yeah.” Spike shivered, uncertain and uncaring as to why. His claw clutched her withers softly. “I knew.”

“But since you did…” Twilight paused. Her hoof reached further around his shoulders. “I’m proud you gave it your all.”

They stayed together for a few more seconds, giving one last squeeze before they stepped back. Both kept their wobbly, earnest smile present, neither in a hurry to end the moment.

“So!” Twilight stated, her tone its usual fast, offhand self once again. “I haven’t got any work left for today. Anything you want to do now you’re a free dragon again?”

“Actually…” Spike waggled a foot on the floor. “I wouldn’t mind practicing for the pageant some more. You know, just in case you haven’t got all your lines down. Plus, I do quite the Princess Platinum to your Clover the Clever!”

Mirthful, Twilight returned to the hearth, two scripts floating out of the library’s depths. “Sure, Spike. I’m always glad to have ‘you’ help ‘me’ learn ‘my’ lines.” Spike blushed; he hastened to stifle it.

“Also, Twilight.” He paused long enough for her to turn around. “For my next birthday… Do you think you could try getting me something that’s not a book?”

Given Twilight’s love of literature, put politely, Spike honestly wasn’t sure how she might take this. So pure euphoria filled him when she simply smiled, a beam warmer than the fire crackling behind her.

“Course, Spike.” Once seated by the flames, Twilight beckoned him in with a light jerk of her head. “Of course I’ll try.”

As Spike joined her, snuggling up beside her leg, the swiftly wrapped present elsewhere in the room lay unnoticed, its identity a mystery. Except to somepony with an X-Ray vision spell, something Twilight was always quick to ascertain was pure fiction.

But if it did exist, and one were to use it, they would find, inside the box within, a hefty instruction book, several dice, multiple game pieces, a disassembled board, and many small cards and slips of paper. And atop both the manual and the box, alongside an illustration of many colorful characters mid-jump into action, and sporting all manner of wacky gear and gadgets, they would spot the title, ‘Ogres and Oubliettes: A Beginner’s Campaign’.

Author's Note

Author's Notes for this story can be found here.

Spike's claim isn't a joke: he does have the most dialogue in the play in "Hearth's Warming Eve" (and in the episode as a whole too), and not barely shaving it either. He has 514 words (and over 2,900 characters), while Rarity, the next largest, has 380 words (just barely over 1,900 characters). No small feat! One could argue the actual play is longer than what we the audience sees, which it no doubt would be – ponies wouldn't travel to watch a fifteen-minute pageant – but without concrete onscreen evidence, it's anyone's guess what that would amount to.

Hope you like it, Winter_Solstice. And the rest of you too. Happy holidays!