Months had slipped quietly into the past since the acceptance of a heart-wrenching reality. Spike the dragon was utterly alone, there was no more choice in denying that fact now. All he could do was move on. Keep walking, keep his sanity in check and never look back.

The pain of their absence was almost intolerable at first. He would often spend days reversing and curled up in a ball, crying, and whimpering, praying for any kind of response. Any kind of acknowledgment in this empty world. But no such miracle came. Each time ended with his feverish screams turning into the silent tears of acceptance.

The pain dulled, and the memories of his friends began to fade. Spike no longer cried or whimpered, but he did still talk to the nothingness. Even when nobody was around, the dragon would often speak aloud, recounting moments when they were around and sharing the new experiences that could happen if they were right beside him. No longer expecting one day they would reappear.

As he grew used to his solitude, his mind turned to more practical things. Like a fire to warm him or a meal to fill his stomach. These needs were hard to meet, and his attempts were often met with failure. However, living under Twilight's wing had trained one ultimate thing within him, determination. He didn't stop or falter, each day was another chance to succeed.

Eventually, Spike decided to honor the profound bond they had shared. Coming upon the old treehouse, its ashy form still standing. At first, he found it rather odd compared to the rest of his empty reality. It was old, so far the oldest thing in the town that still existed. He never figured out why certain old stuff kept vanishing, nor could he understand why this was still standing.

Spike craved to etch their names upon the tree, a reminder that they had existed, that their story mattered. This caught the attention of the creature watching him from the shadows. The beast could not help but be curious about his actions ever since it questioned why he seemed so familiar to the monster. What was the purpose of carving a tree with the name of ponies long gone? Why were those names twisting the creature's stomach?

However, the creature did not interfere with the process, simply observing the dragon. Once he left it was tempted to mark the scene away, return the tree back to its previous state that it abandoned as such. Once Spike was out of sight, it looked upon the piece. The names didn't matter, each one only reminding it of each of their gruesome demises at its claws. Strange though it kept feeling an odd twisting in its stomach. The idea was quickly cast aside. Something about the action was... pleasing.

It watched as the dragon went on with his day. Observing as he scavenged for food or water. The creature found this quite amusing, no, it wasn't sure that was the right word for it. Playful, no, mildness, maybe. The creature flicked and crackled its neck, the only sign of open emotion it ever gave, pushing away the thoughts. It could not afford to grow attached, to see the dragon as anything more than an obstacle against the silence it craved.

Spike's efforts started to become a little less... pitiful, no! That wasn't the right word either. He was learning how to survive, and thrive in his loneliness. It was a bit impressed, no, that wasn't the right word either. Stop trying to put thoughts to these emotions, such effort was too painful for the creature. No! It cracked its neck again, that wasn't the right word either!!

Ever since it questioned who the dragon was, it kept finding itself so confused. Why? Why was this dragon confusing it so much? It was almost hurting it, no, that's not the right word. Stop twisting in that stomach, those souls are dead. They are all long gone.

It no longer desired a reason to interfere with the dragon. It simply let things be, Spike was allowed to make whatever changes to the town he liked. It was all new, thus not old. And the only thing this creature could accept was its hatred for the old. Anything new was tolerable, and perhaps even entertaining... No, that wasn't the right word.

The dragon's efforts became more and more efficient. He was able to live a manageable lifestyle under the monster's gaze. Spike never spotted it once, his ignorance was the only thing allowing him this. The creature didn't bother with the details, it didn't crave his flesh. Rather it wanted answers.

This dragon was the last being that remained in the entire country. Maybe he had the solution for its eons-long search. He was different from the ponies. If it could just discover why, the answer would be clear and it could finally eat him. Maybe the creature could treat him as a companion in this silence. No, no, no!! He was far too loud.

Any voice piercing through the silence would eventually become old. It would rather be alone than suffer the idea of anything old. So, the creature was left in its conflict. A desire for answers, and a need to remain alone. The latter was much more important. But the former was so close, right in its sight all the time, yet never once clear.

For the creature stalking the shadows, the decision to hunt had always been straightforward. Its predation had encompassed formidable opponents in the dimension. Each conquest brought satisfaction, a raw demonstration of strength, and a familiar thrill of victory, no, that wasn't the right word!!

This dragon on the surface seemed no different. And yet he possessed an essence that blurred the lines between dragon and pony. His scales glimmered with the iridescence of his kind, yet his spirit resonated with the values and camaraderie of his pony friends. Unlike traditional dragons who were draped in aloofness and lust for hoarding treasures, He harbored empathy, loyalty, and a deep desire to remember his friends even as their bones were trapped in the creature's stomachs. He was so starkly different from the beast, so very wrong, and yet...

The predator struggled with its primal urges. The thrill of the hunt was palpable, almost electric, no, that wasn't the right word. The prospect of sinking its teeth into this unusual prey sent shivers of excitement through its spine, no, that wasn't the right way to put this taste. Spike was unique, and his uniqueness was intoxicating, no, that wasn't the right way to say it either.

Finally, it bashed its head hard into the ground sending out shockwaves that the dragon could barely register beyond his own imagination. The creature could not put its feelings into words, the closest would be a hunger to destroy his unique essence, no, stop, quit twisting it, none of those were the right words?!

It wasn't supposed to feel anything anymore. All its emotions died away during its eons-long isolation. The only thing that mattered was its hatred, no, not quite, and its craving for the old, no, no, no, that wasn't it either!!

It was... it was... just the hunger!

******

Author's Note

Well, this had to be the hardest chapter for me to write yet. I wanted another timeskip, but I couldn't keep it in Spike's POV. I felt a need to finally show the monster's view of it all. This made things tough as it was hard to gauge things with no emotional markers. So I decided to lean into my confusion, revealing just how confused the monster is with Spike.

That's the end of season 2. We'll be skipping next month and returning in March with the infamous season 3. Yes, folks its finally comes to this.