//------------------------------//
// Alone In My Head 
// Story: Spike's Shadow 
// by DraconequusMaximus 
//------------------------------//

Spike had been in some weird situations in his life. In twenty-six years he had met demigods, royalty, monsters, and all manner of sentient life. In the last eight months he had done and seen a countless number of incredible feats and recently met the actual devil. But now he was on what could only be described as a bad trip.

Colors were swirling about his mind, or whatever far off plane of existence he found himself in. The drug Zecora had created had only been the size of an ordinary pill, but had weighed quite a lot. At least for an object of it's size. Whatever she had condensed into the capsule was potent enough to put Spike to sleep very quickly afterwards.

His body grew cold, and Spike could feel himself becoming disconnected from everything. Even the ethereal world of The Dreaming slipped away from his mental grasp. It was like being thrown into the dark dimension and being stripped of his scales at the same time. Spike was vulnerable, confused, and even his sense of self was struggling to remain.

But eventually the existential crisis gave way to warmth and calm.

Spike eventually realized his eyes were closed, and hesitantly opened them and let them adjust to the light.

Once everything had been set to rights internally, Spike found himself in a very odd place. The sky was a burning mixture of purples, reds, and blues, dotted with white lights Spike supposed were stars. It was beautiful, like it was a galaxy far away from the one Spike knew. 

As for the terrain in which Spike found himself in, he found it curious. It was a perfectly smooth plane of what Spike discovered to be solid jade. The whole 'world' Spike was on was one large jade marble. It was only a few times larger than Spike's property, and it seemed to be featureless aside from the natural striation and patterning of the jade itself.

It was a lovely knick-knack of a planetoid in the vastness of alien space, and Spike found there was at least some sense of gravity as he began walking the massive bauble.

"Huh... Okay. Spirit journey is off to a weird start." Spike narrates for himself.

Running a cursory check, Spike saw he was perfectly intact physically. That seemed to be the best course of action given the unpredictable nature of these experiences. He was less than pleased however when he found himself unable to perform magic. No mana was even present in his body as far as he could tell.

Spike's normally sharp senses were dulled, or there just wasn't anything to find. 

That was when Spike decided he had two options. The first of which was trying to fly through space on sheer wing-power. But since he had no idea how vast his own personal cosmos was or how long he could fly without magic assistance, it was put aside as Plan B.

For lack of a better option, Spike raised his clawed hand and slashed at the jade marble. With a few slashes, Spike had dug deep into the marble and found it to be hollow. At least a foot thick, but still hollow. Once he had a big enough hole he stopped and tried to learn something from the void below. 

The hole was supernaturally dark, and Spike couldn't glean anything from it. But he stuck his tail down it for a moment, and nothing terrible happened to it. Seeing no other way to set whatever was in store going Spike slipped himself down the dark hole. 

Spike fell through the dark for a time until he hit what seemed to be a large single pane of glass. It began to crack as a result of Spike's impact, and Spike's nerves prickled as he understood what was to happen next. He closed his eyes once more, hoping to avoid getting glass in them.

Spike then fell as expected, but in no time at all he hit the ground.

Unfortunately, it was with his face.

"Uwah... What? Why did that hurt so much?" Spike groaned as he pulled himself up.

As soon as he talked, Spike knew something was wrong. He quickly grasped at his throat, which was now much shorter than it had been before the fall. Spike examined himself with feverish speed, finding himself adorably pudgy and small again. He was essentially ten years old again, but with the mind of his twenty-six year old self.

"No, no no no no! What?! Why?! Why this?! What possible reason for this is there?!" Spike groaned with his prepubescent voice.

Spike spent a few minutes having a well-deserved tantrum, then realized he was in a very familiar place after hurting his foot by kicking a bookshelf.

Castle Twilight.

It was no pale imitation or bastardized copy created by the drug. It was an absolutely perfect version of the castle torn from Spike's memory. Spike had forgotten how small the place had made him feel in the old days. Without magic or his standard size it would take ages to cover all the ground laid out in front of him.

Spike sighed and began exploring the rooms.

All of them were in the right places, and perfectly as Spike remembered them. At least until he got to the throne room. The thrones were all gone, except for the tiny throne meant for him. He was a little unnerved by the loss of the girls' thrones, and what it might mean.

"Okay... So... Do I just sit down, or...?" Spike pondered before he realized he was alone.

Getting fed up with his own mind's games, Spike smoldered quietly and sat down in the throne fitting his current stature. 

Almost immediately, the map sprung to life. Except, this time around it wasn't the map that greeted Spike. It was a full representation of the Tree of Harmony, glittering and ghostly in red lighting. 

What does fire mean to you? A sweet, motherly voice Spike felt was vaguely familiar asked.

Spike was quiet for a moment, looking around to make sure his surroundings hadn't changed. But after seeing nothing new Spike didn't see the harm in answering the question. He thought on it for awhile, and the projection waited patiently. It was about three minutes before Spike thought he could answer confidently.

"Fire is me. Fire is warm, and it cooks, but it's also dangerous sometimes. It's a part of me, and I feel weird when it's gone. Fire isn't good or bad either... And lately, I've had to do things I haven't liked doing for the greater good. No matter what, I just feel like it is me, or at least a big part of it. Zecora told me that dragons are fire made flesh, and I think it's a pretty good parallel." Spike answered with as much certainty as he could muster.

The tree was silent, but after a moment Spike realized that the fire inside of him had returned. In front of his eyes, his hands and torso began to stretch and elongate. By the time he was through, Spike estimated he was a couple years older. Thirteen at the most.

The projection of the tree then turned a sort of brownish color.

What do you value the most on this Earth? A new stern male voice asked.

This time, Spike didn't need to hesitate.

"Family. My living hoard. Memories of the past, and the people they are now. It's ever-growing. Value doesn't even begin to describe it." Spike declared with boundless resolve.

The tree changed once more into a ghostly white image.

Spike felt his body grow again, though the effect was less pronounced this time around. He was beginning to see what was happening, but he couldn't be sure. The magic of earth was flowing through his claws again, but it was only a small part of what was missing. 

"Hey... You're the spark, right? The itty-bitty part of me that's god-like... Right? These voices are the old pantheon gods that created Earth and dragons served, right?" Spike asked the projection.

The tree didn't respond, but it didn't ask the next question either. Spike tried to look inside himself, and force it to answer him. If this was all happening inside of his soul, he figured he might have control over it. All he seemed capable of doing however was making the tree flicker a bit.

The air we breathe unites us all. Can you be as objective as the breeze, or will you show favoritism to the ponies? A wise womanly voice asked.

Spike wanted to answer, but he stopped himself after a second.

He lived in Equestria, and Spike loved the ponies that lived there. They had raised him, they loved him, and he had sworn himself to protect them. He had nothing against any species in particular, but now that Spike was putting himself on the spot he wasn't sure he was objective enough. Things had been so crazy Spike hadn't had much time to consider exactly what he was going to do about introducing the dragons to the rest of the world.

He had assumed he would start with the ponies, but now Spike was forced to second-guess himself.

"The best I can do is try to be good to all peoples. I'm young. Especially by dragon standards. I've never traveled the world in it's entirety, and there are a lot of species I haven't met or maybe even that I don't know about. But I've got a lot of role models to learn from. Celestia, Luna, Mom, Scorpan, and even Ohshmend. 

"I don't want to be above anyone else, I want to become a leader that serves and teaches rather than rules over his kind and looks down on others from on high. I love ponies, but it's a big world out there. I believe everyone is owed their rights and respect, and I can promise to keep that in mind for the rest of my life." Spike explained hopefully.

The tree projection sat in silence for a time. 

More than long enough to keep Spike worried.

But soon Spike felt a distinct tingle as more of his magic returned and his body aged again. The tree turned a deep blue this time, and Spike relaxed a bit. He had no idea what would happen if he failed to answer acceptably, but if Selene's warning was to be taken seriously Spike realized he might never awaken.

But it was necessary.

Magic flows through you like water into the sea. Those without power will fear you, and those with lesser magic will envy you. How will you deal with these feelings of resentment those you have sworn to protect aim at you? A new voice questioned, sounding almost like rain hitting rooftops in a way Spike couldn't explain.

"Uh... I don't really think it's gonna be that much different than how things are now. I mean, I'm a dragon, and I'm already huge and pretty strong. I think maybe Sombra and I can teach what we know of the old ways to the modern people though. It would be good for everyone I think. Old magic and spiritualism could bring people together I think." Spike more suggested than answered.

Spike felt himself become more like his true self once again. 

As the tree changed to yellow, Spike couldn't help but feel speaking with shades of fallen gods was a thing that was happening with absurd frequency lately. But in his line of work he supposed it was just another day. Though he wondered if he ever managed to achieve total spiritual awakening like Sombra he could speak with them whenever he needed council.

But those were questions for another time.

You have been forced to grow and change as fast as lightning strikes the ground. Do you resent the need to grow and evolve at an unnatural pace? Can you accept what you cannot change? A proud somewhat pompous voice asked.

Spike looked his younger form over a bit, finding the question a bit ironic.

"I think I'm pretty at peace with the situation. I mean, being huge is inconvenient, sure... But I can protect people better if I'm bigger and stronger. Plus, it's just life. There's plenty of things I would change if I could, but it's not like I'm going to snap and try to do something drastic." Spike postulated.

The projection seemed to waste no time changing. Spike assumed that the personalities of the fallen deities were at work, taking turns and altering the behavior and tone of the projection. He didn't know much about any of them other than Cadmae, and he wished he had realized this sooner, as she had likely been the first voice.

The tree's color changed, but it merely deepened from a bright yellow to a lustrous gold.

You defend the good and virtuous and condemn those that stray from the light. Can you say for certain you yourself would never stray? Or that Sombra will remain on the side of good despite his origins as a host for the Earth's first and greatest evil? A gentle, yet firm feminine voice asked.

Spike was aware he was closer to his true age, but the question was so unexpected and irksome he took no satisfaction in it.

"You are all leftover imprints of divinity lodged in my soul, right? Shouldn't you be able to know that? I can't promise I'll always be the good guy. Sometimes you need to bend laws and break promises for the greater good. Heroes and villains... It's not black and white.

"I can promise to keep doing what I believe is right, and I'm confident Sombra will do the same. We're in this together, and Sombra has suffered more than anyone because of Dootha. He would gladly die for me, or anyone, if it were possible. But that just means he'll get up again to do the right thing over and over. As long as one of us is around, we'll fight for what we believe in." Spike huffed.

The projection remained the same for about thirty seconds, but then it grew dark.

Not only the tree, but the entire imaginary space in Spike's mind grew darker. He didn't panic, as he felt all his magic returning. Yet he felt something else was happening. He was still due another question if he was counting correctly. But the darkness didn't keep quiet for long.

Spike... How goes it? It's me, Larimet. You've got a pretty good connection to the dark going, and my echo is a bit... louder than the others. I can speak with you for a short time before you enter the final phase of your test. No questions from me. I know you.

"Oh... Hey? Didn't really think I'd hear from you again. How goes the whole, making amends with the family thing?" Spike said awkwardly.

Oh, pretty good. The others are actually a lot less mad than I expected... They're a lot less anything than I expected really. They're pretty faded. But they're as okay as they can be... Being a magic tree is all well and good... But we're not that strong. That's why we're here inside you. A backup-backup plan.

Spike eyed the void before him skeptically, but he couldn't be sure if Larimet could see him. Truthfully, they had no eyes, ears, mouths, or any other sensory organs. Spiritual mumbo-jumbo wasn't Spike's forte, and being wrapped up in grand-scheme type machinations was very annoying. Pondering metaphysical anatomy was far too time consuming to be productive.

Even though Spike felt he should have been used to the minutia of interacting with magic like this.

"Yeah, okay... I know about the spark and everything, but how do I use it? It's divine energy, so it's different from magic, right? I can feel it if I really try, but it's just out of reach. Got a hint for me, or do I just have to rough it out with whatever comes next?" Spike asked, glossing over his irritation. 

Larimet was silent for a moment.

You have to use everything you know at the same time, which you know already. But there's more to it. You have to grab hold of it, force it into submission. It's yours, but it's also not yours. You have to show it who's boss. Even though it's stronger than you. You can totally do that. Your whole problem is you're special, but you forget yourself. You forget everything that makes you special. Larimet explained.

Spike wasn't entirely sure he understood, but he didn't seem to have time to ask Larimet's echo anything else.

The darkness began fading into white, replacing the previous void with a new one. Spike was still able to stand firm, but he couldn't tell which way was which. He could have been upside down for all he knew. It wasn't until he moved that the world came back into focus.

It was blurry at first, but he soon realized where he was. 

"Ponyville." Spike said to himself.

It was Ponyville, Spike was sure. But it wasn't the Ponyville he knew. Rather it was Ponyville as Spike remembered it. It was as it was when Spike had been a whelp of about ten, a hamlet of barely sixty homes, a handful of shops, and a tree. A tree that twisted a curved knife through Spike's heart as he looked at it.

It was Golden Oaks Library, the home that had been so long lost. It was where Spike felt his life had really begun, where he had made life-long friends. In reality he had only lived there a short time compared to the Castle of Twilight, or even Canterlot. But it had been the most significant, and seeing it brought a flood of emotion Spike hadn't known his psyche had dammed up for a long time spilling out.

As soon as Spike took a step towards his lost home, the ground shook.

A terrible roar that Spike had heard many times in his nightmares ripped through the town.

Colored blurs began running about, and they became more and more defined by the second. Ponies. Citizens of Ponyville, all of whom were running about frantically as they always did when crisis struck. Spike recognized most of them, but he realized he was his normal bulk when they got close to him. They were so small in comparison.

Again the roar shattered Spike's train of thought and he was forced to look around.

In the distance, what was likely several blocks away, there was a giant blur of purple and green crushing buildings. 

Spike knew what it was, even before it came into definition. The roar was his, the terrible scream of primal rage and fury he hated. It was him, as he had once been. The greed instilled in dragons by the same vengeful gods he was now trying to tap into had taken Spike once before, and as their final test they set it loose once more on his memories of Ponyville.

Even now, Spike was nowhere near the right size to fight the purely instinctual monstrosity he had once been.

But he had his wings, and his magic. Things he hadn't had back then. If he was careful, and was able to keep his emotions in check he knew he could handle it. Spike had been through hell in the last nine months, and a giant flightless and powerless dragon was nothing compared to Dootha.

Spike took to the air, and charged the fire in his belly with electricity and light magic. 

Dragon-fire was potent, as was dragon scale in terms of defense. But Spike knew all too well that it was far from the worst thing you could get hit with, and that his armor was far from indestructible. A greenish white beam began tearing into the armor of the giant Spike, making it howl in pain. Scale was melted through like fire burning away at styrofoam.

But Spike wasn't prepared for what came next.

His gigantic doppelganger struck him, his wounds healing near instantly. Spike had assumed too much. This was his final trial, it would never have been so easy. The swat sent him sailing down into a restaurant, and when Spike picked himself up out of the ground he saw more ponies fleeing in terror as the giant Spike tore through more buildings.

Except for one.

Sitting at a table near Spike's point of impact was a mare who's fur and mane were different shades of purple. Upon her flank was a bunch of grapes and a strawberry. She had an open bottle of wine in her hooves, and several more unopened on the table.

"Berry Punch?! What the hell are you doing?! Run, Berry!" Spike shouted.

Berry seemingly ignored Spike, downing the rest of the wine in her hooves with a series of audible glugs. Afterward she tossed the bottle at a nearby home, shattering it into a million pieces. She then uncorked another with her teeth, but turned to Spike before she started in on it.

"First of all, this isn't real. Don't worry about the ponies. Secondly, it's Larimet again. I'm just borrowing the form you see to hijack some of your memories of fine wine. The brew-master's visage seemed an apropos choice. Third, get back up there and kick your own ass. You know what you have to do. You're just being decidedly thick. Get hit a few more times. Maybe it'll jar something loose in your spiny little melon." Larimet corrected Spike in Berry's voice.

Spike snapped his fingers and the bottle in Larimet's borrowed hooves exploded via pyrokinesis.

He quickly took wing once more, not wanting to hear more.

"Asshole!" Berry shouted.

"Back at you, Larry!" Spike commented snidely.

Spike desperately tried to combine all the elemental magics at once, but focusing mid-flight was difficult.

Larimet watched as Spike's body glowed with power, but he seemed remarkably unimpressed. For a split second, Spike thought he had done it. But his magic began to destabilize. The elements weren't the problem, or at least as far as Spike could tell. As soon as his powers faltered, the gigantic Spike let loose a gout of green fire.

The real Spike dodged, but the sheer volume and heat of the flames made complete escape impossible.

Spike was able to pull off a shaky landing, but his wings ached with the pain of dragon-fire burns.

Spike dove behind a nearby building, hoping to focus and catch his breath. He had been close to completing his power a number of times, and now he needed only the smallest of pushes. Spike had never felt so close to touching the spark within his soul, but there was something keeping him from it. Some small part of him that wasn't in sync with the rest of him.

Whatever he had misplaced, it was the key. Larimet was being a total pain in his ass, but he had been dropping hints. Spike knew he had. But all that knowledge did for Spike at present was make him feel like a complete idiot for being unable to locate the source of the resistance. 

Spike began focusing once more, hoping things would click into place if he merely kept trying.

Unfortunately, the other him had no intention of letting him off easy. It flattened the building next to him with ease, and burned away a block of houses across the street. He was forced to flee, but as he passed by the giant he slashed at one of the massive dragon's ankles and drew blood.

It began healing unnaturally fast like the burn wounds had, but it distracted the beast long enough for Spike to find cover.

Spike ran to the first place in his mind, and squeezed himself into the door of Golden Oaks Library.

Memories flooded in as soon as he was inside. All the books were in place, except for the ones laying about. Books Twilight would have been reading or wanted to read. The most overpowering catalyst for memory however was scent. Musty books, lavender air freshener, teleportation ozone, and the scent of himself and Twilight mixed together ponies wouldn't notice. The scent of home that the castle was ultimately too large to truly develop, even after so long.

That was what Spike needed to jog his memory.

"I don't have seven kinds of magic... I have eight." Spike laughed as he subconsciously put away a handful of stray books.

Spike reached deep inside himself and found what he had been looking for. Inside the ocean of green, there were coronas of magenta surging through it. The magic that had given birth to him and was an irremovable part of his strength, and his life. It was so ingrained in his mana pool that he never really noticed it.

It had just always been there, and he had never really thanked his mother for it.

Trying to separate it from the bulk of his energy was difficult, but not impossible. It was warm and silky, completely different from the powers he wielded like blunt instruments. It was a precision tool, efficient and strong. He had merged it with his fire to create the forge spell, but he had never tried to use it alone. He had been so busy rushing off to learn the elements.

Spike let it flow alone for the first time, making it flow closer to the surface. The magenta mana was like oil, and Spike's dragon mana like water. It was all new and old sensations crashing up against each other wildly. But Spike was able to refine it, and it mixed with the other mana types perfectly once he really tried.

It was very much like Twilight herself. Small, relatively unassuming, but powerful, and above all else it was efficient. Spike felt at ease, as if he was a shelf of books that had been in the wrong order being set to rights.

Just as Spike was about to celebrate, the library was destroyed for a second time.

The giant Spike had found him, and he had torn open the upper floors. Fire seethed from his maw, and anger boiled in his eyes. This was to be the end, if it had anything to say about it.

Spike felt anger fill him in equal measure, but he remembered it was all just a memory made solid.

Instead, Spike did as he was meant to do and called upon his magics in the order he had received them. 

Pony magic.

Fire.

Earth.

Air.

Water.

Electricity.

Light.

Darkness.

All of it fit together like a puzzle, now that he had all the pieces in hand. The barrier he had been hitting was gone, and he found it was all too easy to grab hold of the spark. It was almost impossible to describe. All of Spike's senses sharpened, and his magic grew to unprecedented heights. He felt like he could rip the sun from the sky and fly to the moon under his own power.

Impossibility was thrown out the window.

But at the same time, Spike could feel his new energy was finite. It wouldn't last long. Spike forced himself to move, jumping at the dragon he had once been. With ease he made his way up the dragon, and began wounding it with all his might. Spells seemed almost totally unnecessary, as his claws, teeth, and flames wounded the giant far more than even his three-fold elemental spell had earlier.

But Spike doubled down, preparing a tremendous breath attack with everything he had. All the elements and powers at his disposal. Everything was in blissful harmony, and though he was fighting a terrifying and personally significant foe his head was cool, completely in the game.

The attack was a thing of beauty.

It was awe-inspiring and terrible, much like Sombra's own ultimate move. A seemingly boundless river of magenta flames engulfed everything. Yet nothing but the giant dragon burned. The fire seemed imbued with Spike's own will and fled from everything, each flicker redirecting itself to the target the instant they strayed.

The moment passed, and Spike felt totally drained. The spark was still there, but like some kind of great engine it had consumed all of Spike's mana to fuel itself. It went back into dormancy, waiting for Spike to call upon it again, and to be fed. 

Thankfully the battle was long over by the time Spike reverted.

The greedy form of his past self had been reduced to white ash, and the magenta flames were consuming those as well. They had grown much smaller to match, but they seemed to refuse their fate. They would not fade until every single atom had been burned away.

"Hey. Good on ya. That watered-down magic your foster mother gave you had some interesting properties. You were a block of marble, and it turned you into a work of art. If you keep this up, and don't die, you'll be stronger than Dramaal one day... Maybe." 

Spike turned to see Larimet in the form of Berry Punch standing in the doorway, a keg strapped to their back.

Spike was going to respond, but he felt tired again. He had completed his mission, and the extended vision quest was ending. He had exhausted his spirit and would soon wake up in the real world, hopefully no worse for the wear.

Larimet sighed and watched Berry Punch's form begin to fade away.

"Yeah, sure. You earned this. But gods forbid I get a few more drinks in." The fallen god grumbled.