Claws

by Matthais Unidostres

Rating: mature
Tags: Twilight Sparkle, Gore, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Dark, Death, Drama, Spike, Angel, Fluttershy, Violence
Length: 2140

Each glint off his claws was like a quiet whisper, reminding him of what they were truly meant for. . .

Long, curved, and razor-sharp, they seemed almost elegant, their sharp points catching the soft gleam of the overhead lamp. They were tools of precision, capable of slicing through flesh and bone, capable of tearing through barriers with ruthless ease. 

Tools of survival.

Of instinct. 

Of hunting. 

Each glint off his claws was like a quiet whisper, reminding him of what they were truly meant for.

The clean, swift end. 

Published 2024-10-28 18:10:00 UTC
Last updated 2024-10-28 18:10:00 UTC

Claws

As dawn broke, soft light crept in through the library’s windows, Spike stirred from his dreamless, uneasy sleep, still feeling heavy from the nightmarish reality that occured mere hours ago. He winced, his mind fogged with flashes of red-tinged memories—his claws sinking into flesh, the hot taste of blood that he couldn’t seem to scrub from his tongue. He tried to shake it off. Twilight would be back soon, and the last thing he needed was for her to pick up on anything unusual. He had spent much time and effort scrubbing every corner, erasing any trace of what happened. Nopony would know. He had made sure of that.

But his peace didn’t last long.

A soft knock at the library door snapped him out of his thoughts. He froze, his stomach dropping. It was too early for Twilight. It had to be… Fluttershy. Swallowing hard, Spike got up and made his way to the door. He opened the it to see the gentle yellow pegasus smiling warmly, with her companion, Angel Bunny, perched smugly on her back.

“Spike, you look wonderful!” Fluttershy exclaimed, her soft voice brimming with admiration. “I can see you’re feeling much better after that growth spurt. Look at you—all healthy and strong! And taller, too!”

Spike stammered, his cheeks flushing as guilt clawed up his throat. “Oh, yeah… well, thanks, Fluttershy. It was a rough couple of days, but I feel… better.”

Fluttershy gave him a kind smile. “I knew you’d be just fine. I’m glad you were able to watch that little troublemaker for me,” she continued, looking around. “But where is he?”

Spike took a deep breath, struggling to keep his voice steady as he prepared the lie he’d concocted. “Well… um, he… got away. Somehow, he managed to get out of his cage. I had left door open for some fresh air, and before I knew it, he was gone. I’m really sorry. I tried to catch him, but… he was fast.”

Fluttershy’s eyes widened for a moment, then softened, her expression almost relieved. “Oh, Spike, don’t feel bad. That little rascal was always darting off the second I looked away. You know how some rabbits are, always slipping away…” She chuckled, shaking her head. “You did your best.”

But from his perch, Angel narrowed his beady eyes at Spike, his small nose twitching with a barely-concealed malice. The two of them had always hated each other, and Spike knew this moment would be no different. Angel, always the spiteful little thorn in Spike's side, stared daggers, his tiny arms crossing defiantly over his chest. Spike, unable to help himself, shot the bunny a glare and bared his fangs just enough to make a point.

Something inside Spike stirred. The primal urge that had gripped him last night threatened to bubble up again, his blood humming with a dark, hungry energy that felt impossible to control. He could feel it—the urge to reach out, to snatch the bunny from Fluttershy’s back, to sink his fangs into him. He blinked hard, forcing the thought away, his heart pounding as he struggled to contain his instincts.

Angel’s eyes narrowed further, as if he could see right through Spike. A twisted, vengeful grin spread across his face, and he started thumping his foot urgently against Fluttershy’s back, gesturing wildly to her, chattering in his own strange way.

“Oh, Angel,” Fluttershy laughed, understanding the bunny’s frantic gestures but not taking them seriously, “Now that’s just silly. You’re saying Spike ate the rabbit?” She giggled, patting the bunny’s head. “Now, why would Spike ever do such a thing? He’s been my dear friend for so long. You must be joking. How ridiculous, isn’t it, Spike?”

Spike forced out a laugh that sounded more like a cough. “Haha, yeah! That’s… that’s hilarious, Fluttershy.”

Angel’s nose twitched in annoyance, his soft footpaw tapping insistently against Fluttershy’s back as he tried again to convince her. She rolled her eyes, sighing in exasperation as she could no longer find this funny.

“Oh, enough of that, Angel. You know it’s not nice to accuse someone of something like that. I think you owe Spike an apology.”

The bunny shook his head defiantly, stomping his feet in protest. But Fluttershy wasn’t having it. She unfurled her wings, using one of them to reach back to pluck him off her. Before Spike could react, Fluttershy dropped the now horrified rabbit right into Spike’s waiting claws.

“Stay here until you apologize,” she said, her voice suddenly steely as she leveled the notorious “Stare” at the now trembling bunny. Angel froze, his smugness wiped clean, his bravado gone. “And don’t you move until you mean it.”

Fluttershy then looked kindly at Spike and said, “I'm afraid Angel can be quite naughty at time. But I'm sure you two can work out your differences. Send him home once he's learned his lesson. Who knows, maybe you both might learn something from this. Have a nice evening, Spike.”

With one last firm nod at Angel, Fluttershy turned and fluttered out of the library, leaving them alone.

The door had barely closed before Angel began to squirm, but Spike’s claws closed around him, just tight enough to keep him in place. The bunny looked up, his dark eyes reflecting his horror as he met Spike’s steady gaze. Spike could see the bunny’s bravado slipping as he swallowed, his ears flattening.

“Well, well,” Spike said slowly, an unnervingly cold smile creeping onto his face, his fangs gleaming in the early light. “Not so smug now, are you?”

Angel’s whiskers quivered, and he glanced around desperately, but the library was quiet, the only sound the soft ticking of the clock on the wall. Fluttershy was gone. Twilight wasn’t due back for hours. And Spike’s claws felt very capable. . .

It was a almost noon by the time Twilight finally returned from the librarians’ convention in Canterlot. Spike was in the kitchen, his claws steady on a stack of bowls and pans. He was rinsing out a plate smeared with the remains of his early lunch.

As she entered, Twilight looked Spike over with a curious, appraising eye. The young dragon tensed, but kept his back turned, hiding his claws beneath the warm wash of water and soap bubbles.

“Spike!” she greeted warmly. “Look at you—your scales! You look amazing, like you’re practically glowing.”

Twilight’s compliment struck him in a strange way, her admiration for something he knew had been earned through far darker means. He turned around to face her, and he could see her nose twitch. Her eyes narrowed as she sniffed again, the faintest edge of curiosity slipping into her expression.

“What’s that smell?” she asked, her voice light and curious. “It’s… different. Did you bake something?”

“Oh, yeah,” Spike answered smoothly, rehearsing the story he'd practiced. “Just tried my claw at a new pie recipe. Had this… huge craving, I guess. Guess I’m still adjusting to the growth spurt.” He gave her an awkward grin, only half-forced.

Twilight chuckled, glancing wistfully toward the kitchen table. “I’d love a slice, but I suppose you ate it all?”

“Sorry,” he shrugged, feigning embarrassment. “I was just really hungry.”

“And I don't think you'd have the stomach for it, anyway,” he added mentally.

“No problem!” Twilight said, waving him off with a good-natured laugh. “I mean, look at you—if you need the extra food, then you need it! I’m just glad you’re feeling better.” She turned away, her voice drifting over her shoulder as she asked, “So, how did critter-sitting go?”

Spike forced a grimace, carefully shaping his words. “Well, uh, not great, to be honest. The rabbit… escaped. I tried to catch him, but he was gone before I knew it. And then Fluttershy showed up with Angel Bunny. She left him here so we could. . . work out our differences and, uh… I might’ve let him slip out too. It’s been… a day.”

Twilight’s expression softened as she looked at him, her eyes filled with understanding. “Hey, don’t be too hard on yourself, Spike. Certain pets can be escape artists, and you weren’t feeling well at the time. Anyway, I'm sure they’ve probably already made it home to Fluttershy. Besides,” she added, smiling, “you’re still my number one assistant, and that’s what matters.”

She gave him a quick hug, then turned back to her studies, leaving him alone in the quiet kitchen, the soft rustle of pages flipping drifting in from the other room. Spike, standing in the kitchen, let his gaze fall to his claws, slick with soapy water and sparkling faintly in the dimming light.

Long, curved, and razor-sharp, they seemed almost elegant, their sharp points catching the soft gleam of the overhead lamp. Unlike his fangs, which could get the job done but did ao in a messy beastly manner, his claws were most definitely tools of precision, capable of slicing through flesh and bone, capable of tearing through barriers with ruthless ease.

Tools of survival.

Of instinct.

Of hunting.

Each glint off his claws was like a quiet whisper, reminding him of what they were truly meant for:

The clean, swift end.

He remembered Angel’s wide-eyed terror as he squirmed in his grasp. Unlike the rabbit from earlier, Angel hadn’t fought for long. A single swipe across the throat, and the small body had gone limp in his claws. Angel had gone silently, his tiny jugular severed with chilling efficiency. Spike’s claws, as vicious as any predator’s, had made short work of him.

A strange, calm pride bloomed within Spike, like a dark flower blooming in the depths of his mind. This time had been different. This time, he’d controlled himself. He had managed the clean-up, had crafted his story, and—most satisfying of all—he had taken care of everything with a certain… civility. No desperate, half-mad frenzy, no lost hours in a blood-soaked haze. This time, he’d been careful, deliberate.

Every part of the scene had been managed. He had funneled the blood into a bowl with steady claws, his mind clear, savoring the control, the simplicity of it all. He’d burnt the white fur away with his fire breath, watching as the smoke curled and dissipated, then carefully diced the meat, spooning it into the rich, flaky crust of his pie. Every bite had been clean, filling, and satisfying. Each forkful paired perfectly with the small gems he kept on the side, while the sweet cider from Sweet Apple Acres had been the ideal finish. It had been… civilized.

He felt a strange thrill remembering how Angel’s silent sneer had slipped away in those final moments, how the smug gleam in the bunny’s eyes had transformed to raw fear. Angel had finally learned the hard way: mess with a dragon, and you get burned.

Or, baked to be precise. The meat pie came out perfectly. Not burned or overcooked at all.

Spike let out a slow breath, feeling the weight of satisfaction settle over him, thick and dark as honey. There was no denying it now. His nature, his instincts, were asserting themselves. He was a dragon—a creature born to hunt, to feast, to kill. The truth of it was etched into his claws and fangs, as obvious as anything else about him. Red meat was not merely a craving; it was a necessity. A part of him that he’d spent years hiding, denying. But he couldn’t ignore it any longer. The surge of health, the vigor he felt now, was proof enough. He needed meat. And he could accept that.

Of course, he told himself with a determined nod, he’d be smarter next time. The Everfree forest would provide what he needed, little wild animals, far from prying eyes. He wouldn't touch anyponies’ pets again; he had learned his lesson there.

His gaze drifted back to Twilight, still lost in her books, blissfully unaware of the creature she was trusting at her side. For a fleeting moment, he wondered if she would ever understand, or if she would look at him with the same horror he had seen in Angel’s eyes.

With a final glance down at his claws, Spike turned, placing the last clean dish on the drying rack. The faintest smile curved his lips as he looked out the window, toward the looming shadows of the Everfree forest, where his next meal awaited him.

Author's Note

"Fangs" was a very cool story I read a while ago. Unfortunately, the author never made a follow up. In fact, it was the only story the author ever published. So, I decided to write my own sequel to it, just for Halloween. I hope you all enjoyed this creepy and tense story. I hope it captured and instills the same feelings as "Fangs".

Happy Nightmare Night everypony!