The game is afoot... or ahoof.
Spike, that most wonderful, loyal and dependable of shortish dragons.
Spike, that most brave, heroic and unselfish of unflying reptiles.
‘Whatta Guy’, is basically what I’m trying to say. Where would we be without him…
…Speaking of Spike; has anypony/creature seen him around lately? Cos I ain’t.
Youhoo… Spike! Spikey-Wikey! The Spikester! Spike The Magnificent In All His Bulging Muscular Glory!
Hmm… Usually he’d at least put in an appearance by now, especially after that last bit of shameless flattery.
Fillies And Gentlecolts, it’s official. Hold onto your bridles. We may have a problem developing here…
…And I’m not just talking about who’ll deliver junk-mail to Celestia or give Twilight well-deserved snarky put-downs when her rampant neurosis overwhelms her from now on.
Spike is gone. He’s flown the coop (so to speak). He’s fallen through the cracks (and there are quite a few in that wretched crystalline castle floor). He’s vanished without a trace…
…But only this time, Trixie isn’t involved. She dropped that whole ‘magic box’ routine from her show when the last foolish volunteer who climbed inside ended up freezing their tail off miles away in Yakyakistan.
Brrrrr. Frostbite. Know what’s even worse, though? ‘Shady Lawyers’ and ‘Out-Of-Court Settlements’. Poor Trixie and her triple-mortgaged caravan.
But regardless, this story isn’t about that penniless practitioner of maladroit magical mayhem. This very concise tale concerns an anxious alicorn, her reformed unicorn student…
And Spike. What, you think after that big build-up he wasn’t gonna feature? Duh!
Well, that depends if we can find him or not I guess. “Come here Spike, there’s a good boy! Look, I have a sapphire here with your name on it… literally, I carved it myself. Look: S P K I… oops, never mind. Anyone got a spare pick?”
**********************
The fun(?) all started when Twilight entered the Map Room one fine dawn at morn to yawn and proffer up her usual retinue of insincere greetings.
“Good morning, Starshine… I mean, Starlight Glimmer!”
“Morning, Twilight!” The aforementioned ex-cult leader answered enthusiastically as she slurped her extra-black coffee with gusto.
“Morning, freshly-polished silver cutlery!”
What the f…udge?! You may ask. Well, Twilight is immensely proud of her gleaming collection of forks, knives and spoons. So what’s wrong in treating it like a living, breathing thing?
“Morning, fusty old book I left under my throne overnight and forgot about!”
…Okay, this is getting weird, even for me. You’re on your own now, Twily.
“Morning, Spike…Spike?”
Ah, finally… now we’re getting to the nitty-gritty of the story! For you see, Twilight was expecting a response from the usually attentive drake at that juncture; either a muffled acknowledgement through a mouthful of crunchy cereal, or a simple grunt to show he was snout-deep in one of his thousands of comic books…
She got neither one nor the other, for the simple reason that Spike’s seat was emptier than Trixie’s bank account (sorry, Trix. I love to rub it in).
“What? Where’s Spike? Usually he’s the first one up, and the last one to bed. You know, because he has so many chores to do.” An unfailingly self-reflective Twilight pondered out loud, not unreasonably.
“Huh. I was just thinking the same thing.” Starlight replied, whilst guzzling down her high-caffeine delight. “I didn’t hear him get up this morning, either. And as you know, I’m a very light sleeper.”
“Hmm, I wonder why…” Twilight commented sarcastically, as she watched Starlight drain the last dregs of her super-effective espresso. “I’m sure he’s fine, but I better make sure.. You see, me and him have got a very important engagement later in Canterlot involving Friendship as a metaphor for the breeding patterns of the parasprite, and I need him to type up a few papers for me. About twenty-thousand or so should do it. No biggie.”
“Oh, I’m sure he’ll love that.” Now it was Starlight’s turn to lay on the sarkiness, as she used her tongue to wipe the lingering brown bean residue off her pearly whites. “Don’t let me stop you. I’ll just be here, twiddling my hooves, whistling a merry tune, plotting to take over the world again…”
“What was that?” Twilight poked her head round the door once more.
“Nothing.” Starlight’s voice was positively angelic in its resonance, and if you looked real close, you may have just seen the roundish edges of a halo around her perfectly-formed equine bonce.
“Hmm.” A not-quite daft Twilight made a mental note to hide all of her most powerful spell books for now, before racing off upstairs to search for her absent-in-action assistant.
His room was on the second floor, just within touching (some would say yelling) distance of Twilight’s. It was a cosy little nook of a chamber, not too big but not too small, an ideal bachelor pad for the single dragon…
As if he had any time on his claws between dealing with Twilight’s various mishaps and misdemeanours to ferment a serious relationship, anyway. Poor Ember...
“Spike, I didn’t see you downstairs this morning. I hope you’re not doing that ‘thing’ I caught you at once before…” Twilight asked urgently as she burst in without knocking (as was the custom). “Oh my Celestia! This room… is the most…”
What was about to follow was not exactly a compliment. For between the fetid stench of dragon feet that lingered in the air, the various comic volumes which lay scattered everywhere like candy wrappers, and a suspiciously green-puke slime that Twilight had no idea the origin of, it was quite the most disgusting thing she’d ever seen…
…And this was a pony who’d been to the deepest pits of Tartarus and back. So, yeah.
Just one thing stopped her from heaving all over the already putrid floor, then going downstairs to fetch a mop and bucket to wipe it all with…
His soiled, stained sheets were completely empty. There was no sign of Spike anywhere, in case we’re not clear on that by now.
Oh, where could he be? An increasingly frantic Twilight, desperate to find her friend, used a powerful enchantment to completely turn the room upside down. The foul smell was swept away. The dog-eared comic books were neatly stacked. The nasty slime was utterly obliterated. The dirty laundry was basketed. Everything was left clean, sparkling and organised, just as an ever-so-slightly OCD alicorn would like it...
…And there was Spike, grinning like a gonad. He’d been hiding under his bed all this time, the crafty sod.
“Thanks for sprucing up my place for me a bit.” He winked unapologetically. “Makes a nice change for somepony else to be doing the work.”
“You mean to tell me…” Twilight stated, quite exhausted after that unexpectedly early bout of sorcerous scrubbing, scouring and sponging. “That your ‘disappearance’ was just part of a dastardly scheme of revenge to get me to give your room a good old-fashioned scrub-a-dub, because you felt I was manipulating your honest, whimsical nature to be an unpaid skivvy? You had me worried out of my mind for all of five minutes, for this?”
“Yep.” The cheeky grin never left his innocent reptilian mug. “Pretty good, eh?”
Then, he laughed out loud. Like a drain.
Next, despite her best efforts, Twilight did too.
Hearing their jolly joviality from upstairs, Trixie temporarily stopped her e-v-i-l plotting to follow likewise.
And even though they were never an actual part of this fic, and would’ve had no idea what was going on whatsoever, so did Rainbow Dash, Applejack, Fluttershy, Pinkie Pie (inevitably)... the whole of the rest of Ponyville and Equestria...
…But not Rarity. Never Rarity. She’s far much too much of a lady to partake in such wanton tomfoolery.
Oops, looks like I was proven wrong. It still counts if you’re giggling behind your hoof, Rares.
I know what you’re thinking. What a bunch of idiots.
…And you’d be absolutely correct. This also includes your obnoxious yet lovable narrator. Wibble!
Goodnight, all. Oh, and one final very important thing…
Wobble.
Author's Note
Well, that's it, guys. The madness is over. You can now return to your vanilla lives of drudgery and woe with a few less brain cells than you had before. Hope it was worth it... 
