//------------------------------// // Than a Great One to Burn You // Story: No Worse Want // by RaylanKrios //------------------------------// The discovery that a filly Twilight knew, whom she had spent time with, was living on her own, presented a problem. And there was only one proper response to problems; research. Alone with her thoughts, Twilight felt the oppressive weight of the day’s events. Her eyelids started to droop and visions of a nice soft pillow danced in her head. The sensible thing to do would be to get some sleep and tackle her new task in the morning. But she was working on a clock. The longer she forcibly confined Scootaloo to the guest room, the less she was able to rationalize it. Faced with that kind of pressure, Twilight shut her eyes and flared her horn. Sleep was a regenerative process. No spell could adequately replace the effects of a good night’s rest, and no magic could overcome the body’s need for it. But there were spells that could temporarily alleviate her tiredness. Twilight turned her focus inward, feeling her neurons firing as she prepared one of the more potent ones. Casting spells on yourself was dangerous, and mental manipulation only increased that risk. Cast too often, the Red Eye spell could lead to paranoia and even brain damage. Even if it worked perfectly, she was still circumventing her own body’s pain threshold in order to push past her limits—limits that existed for a reason. Before she went ahead, she reminded herself that the spell was a Grogarian bargain and the bill would come due. A thought later and she was bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, but not too satisfied about it. She spent the night poring through counseling texts and familiarizing herself with Equestria’s foal protection laws and procedures. Come morning, she had amassed a working knowledge of foster care, as well as a rudimentary understanding of commonly-accepted theories of orphan psychology. With Twilight gone, Scootaloo found herself trapped in a very comfortable cage. She stared at the tray of food, the apple plump and the cupcake practically glistening. Part of her wanted to hold onto her stubbornness and throw Twilight’s food away. A different, hungrier part of her relished the thought of her first cupcake in weeks. Hunger won. I still don’t owe her anything; she locked me in here! Having accepted the food, she had no rationalization for refusing the shower and the bed. Besides, Scootaloo had grown used to taking advantage of opportunities where she could find them. She availed herself of the chance to scrub the dirt out of her hooves and wash her mane. As the hot water cascaded down she took another look at her burnt hoof. It didn’t look any better, but Scootaloo still had more important things to worry about. The sun’s first light peaked through the windows and Spike recognized his cue to get up. To his surprise, instead of the normal quiet of the early morning, he found Twilight wide awake and apparently knee deep in another research project. “Morning, Twi.” Spike took another look around, noticing the piles of books and the stack of paper to Twilight’s right. “Were you up all night?” Twilight opened her mouth but quickly closed it. “Yeah. Something came up,” she said, corralling a small stack of books and pulling them toward her, away from Spike’s gaze. The vague but urgent phrase and furtive gesture set off Spike’s internal alarms. He peered closely at Twilight. “You look good,” he said tersely. “Spike—” “You promised you wouldn’t do this kind of thing anymore Twilight!” After all they’d been through since she hatched him, Spike could read Twilight like an open book, just like she could read him. He knew that something was wrong, and he knew that she knew that he knew—probably from the look of trepidation on his face that he wasn’t even bothering to control—so he wasn’t surprised when she tried to reassure him.“Spike, I’m fine.” Spike refused to be placated. His voice grew hard. “It’s dangerous, Twilight. You taught me that! Just because you feel fine doesn’t mean you are. That’s the whole point of the spell!” “Scootaloo needs my help. I needed a clear head.” The statement put Spike’s righteous indignation on hold. “Wait, Scootaloo is in trouble? What’s wrong?” Twilight stuttered and looked down at her notes. “I promised her I wouldn’t say anything. She’s determined to deal with her problems alone.” Now Spike was dealing with two friends who needed his help, he put his concern for Twilight aside. “Do you know where she is now? Is she OK?” “She’s fine. She’s in the guest room on the first floor.” “Can I talk to her?” “I don’t know Spike, I know you two are friends, but—” “This isn’t about being friends Twilight.” Spike took a deep breath and squared his shoulders. “I was eight years old before I even met another dragon, and when I did they weren’t exactly the kind of creatures I wanted to get to know better. I know a little bit about what it’s like to feel alone.” Twilight recoiled, and Spike could see the hurt flash across Twilight’s face. “How come you never said anything?” she said, breathless. A pang of guilt stabbed at him and he quickly set about explaining his comment.“Because you do a great job of making me feel wanted, all of you do. It’s not your fault you’re not a dragon. I didn’t mean that I’m lonely, I just think maybe I know a little bit about how Scootaloo is feeling.” Spike saw Twilight’s relief and he too breathed easier. “Well I certainly can’t get through to her, so maybe you should give it a try.” Twilight levitated a blue amulet from her desk over to Spike. The young dragon plucked the amulet out of the air with a quick wave of his claw and fastened its gold chain around his neck. “What’s this for?” “You’ll need it to get past the shield I put around her room.” “You locked her in the guest room?” Twilighted nodded, “I needed to be sure she wouldn’t run away.” “Talk about starting off on the wrong hoof,” Spike muttered as he turned toward the staircase. “And don’t think we’re finished either.”