There were times when Spike had the occasion to invent words. Most young creatures do this at some point, particularly those who speak languages that foolishly allow “-ify” or “-ism” to be tacked onto the end of a previously innocent word. By any name, the unicorn who cared for him sternly disapproved of such actions. However, instead of punishing him, she always used such moments as an opportunity to forward Spike’s linguistic education. She would sit by his side, dictionary between them, and teach him a little more about the Equestrian tongue. These educational moments had not cured him of the urge to invent words, though they had made the words he invented more clever.
Spike’s latest creation was “queribode,” a situation wherein one simultaneously experiences overwhelming curiosity, and a strong sense of foreboding with regards to entertaining that curiosity. For instance: “Oh man, whatever Twilight’s doing upstairs is queriboding the heck out of me.”
Spike’s grammar wasn’t quite perfect yet.
Gradually, he worked up the urge to head upstairs. He crept upstairs towards the former guest room that now served as Twilight’s room, claws making the faintest of taps on the wood. Evening in the library normally consisted of quiet reading, but to Spike’s honed senses, it was clear that something far more sinister was occurring this night. A strange pounding echoed through the library—not quite steady, every beat just a little off where Spike’s ears thought it would be. With each thump, there came a sound like groaning metal, a cry like a rusty hinge. Through it all, he could hear something grunting in pain.
“Twilight?” Spike’s voice was barely a whisper, the dragon not certain he wanted whatever was in that room to hear him. “You didn’t, uh...” Spike couldn't summon the will to continue speaking, the words dying in his throat. Unnatural grunts and the hissing of breath carried through the air, along with a foul and caustic smell like that of chemical paints.
“You—” he stumbled, voice shaking. “You know what Celestia said about using that kind of magic, Twilight.” Slowly, he pulled out the book he had brought with him, opening it and holding the pages to the door. On the open face, one page showed Celestia’s sun, while the other showed a very particular rune. The book was ancient, it’s pages splattered with blood and bound by something best undescribed.
Overcoming his trepidation at the strange, unnatural noises coming from within the bedroom, he slowly pushed the door open with a claw. The sounds came more clearly through the faint crack he had opened. They were noises apart from the sounds he had grown used to during his time in the library, strange animalistic sounds. A slowly widening shaft of light cast itself over his face, until at last, the little dragon was illuminated. The brightness dazed him, but he raised the book anyway, drawing a courageous breath.
“Ia Dagon!” He burst forward into the room. “Ia Poni! Ia Y’ha-nthlei e Celestia! Back, creature! Back to the pit you-”
“Spike!” Twilight’s voice cut into his terrified dialogue. The little dragon was so shocked he fell back onto his tail, landing with a faint bounce. It was only after landing that he realized his eyes had been closed in fright. He blinked them open, and saw Twilight’s curious gaze upon him. “What are you doing?”
“Uh...” Spike managed, confused and disoriented, eyes gradually focusing on the scene before him. He quickly took in the relevant details—most notably a lack of tentacles—and eventually managed a startled, “What are you doing?”
“Multitasking!” she answered with a grunt. Twilight stood in the center of the room, a reading stand in front of her holding a copy of Theories of Pegasus Flight Mechanics, and a second stand holding a much worn copy of Ferrous Enchanting (Third Edition). Behind her a kicking bag swung by a chain, the unicorn regularly driving hoofprints into it whenever it got too close to her. Above her floated a set of horseshoes, enchanting tools, a jar of metallic paint, and her ornate brush. Stroke by stroke, the brush left sigils of magic paint on the metal, Twilight’s brow furrowed in concentration as she looked between the texts.
“Rainbow’s training is inefficient! Do you know how many exercises she uses to get every muscle group? Fifty-two.” Twilight gave the kicking bag behind her a sharp kick with a hoof, the bag flying high on its chain, only to catch another blow on its way down. A hiss of pain escaped the unicorn at the impact. Her legs were obviously unused to such strain, but she forced herself to press on with a grimace.
Spike slowly rose to his feet, putting his book away. He was glad his fears has been wrong, but still would not have described the scene as “reassuring.” Oblivious to his actions, Twilight continued her energetic, passionate explanation.
“So, I had the idea that I could help her by organizing things, but I just couldn’t squeeze enough efficiency out of her routine! But then, it hit me. It would be cheating to use magic to make her faster, but what if I could use magic to help her train?” A sharp one-two pattern of blows from Twilight’s hooves sent the practice bag on a light, gentle swing. Her head bobbed faintly with the motion, though her eyes never stopped scanning the page as she spoke. Spike’s eyes went from the floating objects, to the books, to the exercise bag, swaying with its movements as though hypnotized.
“If my estimates are correct, with four enchanted horseshoes and one brilliant personal trainer, Rainbow Dash will be able to get ten times as much exercise as she did previously!” Twilight’s hooves delivered a powerful buck to the exercise bag behind her. The cylindrical bag swung high behind her, breaking from its chain with a loud snap and falling to the floor with an equally impressive crash. Twilight turned to regard it for a moment, mildly surprised at the breakage, and then continued speaking as though nothing had occurred.
“Isn’t that great!?” she asked, turning to face Spike, her voice radiating a driven and productive energy. Along with her words came an unblinking stare and an ear-to-ear smile. Spike slowly and awkwardly smiled in return as he tried to think of what to say.
“Uh…” Spike answered, at a loss for a number of reasons. The issues in his mind ranged from questions of bags and the kicking thereof, to more serious concerns about the effect super-compressed exercise would have on an unsuspecting pegasus. “Uh, I think that might still be cheating. I mean...”
Unfortunately for him, his pause was taken as an invitation to continue. Twilight paced back and forth, as though unable to sit still, the brush and metal above her head still moving to complete her magical work.
“All the other pegasi laughed at the idea of a unicorn trainer!” she asserted with a snort, continuing despite Spike’s attempts to get a word in edgewise. “Well, technically, they said it was great that Rainbow Dash was spending time with her friends. But I know they were laughing inside!” She shook her head, her agitated pacing increasing in intensity as her hooves made a steady clip-clop against the wood.
“They don’t appreciate my contributions to this field. But that doesn’t matter! Soon, Rainbow Dash will have a definitive advantage. She’ll win the Best Young Flyers Competition, and I’ll get the Pobel Prize for athletics training!”
“The Pobel Prize for-” Spike started to ask, reaching a claw up to scratch at his head. His words were abruptly cut off by Twilight letting out a sharp declaration.
“We’ll see who's laughing then!” As the brush completed its last mark upon the metal, Twilight turned. Purple light flared forth from her horn, enveloping the horseshoes in crackling magical energy. Spike jumped back with surprise at the thunderous magical outburst, hiding in the doorway until Twilight’s magic at last subsided. The magical writing painted on the metal was left aglow in her magic’s wake, the horseshoes shining with a palpable energy.
“That’s uh… that’s great. Twilight,” Spike finally managed. “Sounds like you’re really doing RD a favor. There. Eh heh.” His hesitation went unnoticed however, as Twilight gave him a wide smile.
“Great! Now, these need some time in the lab.” She trotted past Spike, moving down the stairs and towards the basement, the horse-shoes still levitating behind her. She turned her head faintly towards him, calling out in passing. “And remember to add finding stronger chains to the to-do list!”
“Okay. Right,” Spike muttered, thought it was mostly to himself. Twilight was no sooner in the basement than Spike was scurrying across the library, to the other side of the tree and the second bedroom there. He knocked hurriedly, claws clapping against the wood.
“Sparkle? You in there?” he called out, opening the door without waiting for a response, pushing it inward as he continued. “Twilight’s acting really weird! I’m getting a little worried.” He trailed off, two sets of eyes looking back at him.
“Spike!” Sparkle greeted, gesturing to the foal beside her, a small unicorn filly with a golden mane and a light purple coat. The room was conspicuously neat, the chalkboards arranged to form a half-circle, covered in the diagrams and formulae that described unicorn magic. In the center of it all sat Sparkle and the foal, along with a number of small objects: ball bearings, books, and a cup of water.
“This is Dinky Doo.” She put a hoof around the foal’s shoulders, the little filly waving to Spike happily. Her body was light enough she swayed in counter-point to her hoof’s motions. Each sweeping gesture nearly threw the small filly off balence. “She’s been having a little trouble learning how to use her magic. Cherilee is an earth pony of course, and Dinky’s mother is a pegasus, so I offered to help teach her!” Sparkle explained, her hooves giving a merry little clap on the wood, like she couldn’t contain her excitement. “Go ahead, Dinky, show Spike what you learned today!”
The little filly shut her eyes, jaw set in tight concentration as her horn started to glow a faint, shimmering gold. The ball bearings in front of her gradually came alight in turn, starting to rattle and shake on the floor. A faint tapping carried through the air, as the metal spheres would rise a millimeter or two, only to fall back to the ground like they were little animals hopping up and down. But gradually, they lifted from the world below them, hovering up into the air to float above Dinky’s head. The little filly’s smile shone like the sun, her eyes faintly wet.
“You did it!” Sparkle encouraged, holding the foal against her, the overjoyed little filly nuzzling against Sparkle’s coat. “Isn’t it wonderful, Spike? I never realized how rewarding it was to work with foals. I think I’m going to start volunteering at the school more often! Maybe even at summer magic camp!”
“You’re… what?” Spike managed, startled. “But what about your advanced studies? What about running the library? You don’t have time for that!”
“Oh, Spike.” Sparkle smiled. “There’s more to magic than just reading! I can teach it to others! Can’t you imagine how happy all those little foals will be when they cast their first spell? Just look at her!” Sparkle gestured Dinky Doo forward. The little filly smiled wide as she stepped up to Spike, the ball-bearings still floating above her, her wide eyes full of wonder at that simple accomplishment.
Spike paused.
“Hold on just a second.”
Outside, a few ponies taking an evening stroll looked up towards the source of the distinctive sound of impact that carried across the neighborhood, the noise emerging from one of the library’s high windows. Not far behind that noise came a light-purple-coated filly, shrieking with surprise as she flew through the air. She landed with a harmless bounce upon a nearby thatch roof, rolling to a rough stop. “Now who will teach me magic?” she asked with a quiet sniffle, starting to tear up as she looked back toward the library.
“Wear a hat, say you’re an earth pony!” Spike called out to her, before slamming the window shut.
“Spike!” Sparkle snapped. The shut window keept the ponies outside from their conversation, only the start of Sparkle’s word escaping into the night air “What do you think you’re—”
“I’m worried about you Tw-” Spike caught himself. “-Sparkle! I’m worried about both of you! You haven’t done anything to maintain the library in days, you’re both completely shut-in in your rooms, and it’s like you don’t even notice! And now you’re thinking of quitting your advanced studies? What about Princess Celestia?” Spike’s voice had risen to an insistent shout.
Sparkle was caught off-guard by her number one assistant’s uncharacteristic attitude, stammering through her reply. “Spike, I wasn’t – I wasn’t thinking about quitting them-“ she assured, taken aback, her defense emerging less confident than she might have hoped. “I just found something that I really like and-”
“You like studying!” Spike exclaimed in frustration, claws out to either side, as though in a hopeless shrug. “If Princess Celestia hadn’t checked, I’d think that spell fried your brain or something!” As the dragon’s frustrated outburst drew to a close, Sparkle’s gaze started to waver. Soon, it sunk to somewhere around Spike’s feet, her ears drooping with it.
“I’m sorry, Spike,” she murmured, stepping up to put a hoof on his shoulder. “Why don’t we go downstairs? I’ll get one of those gems we’ve been saving, and we can each get a book. It’ll be fun.” She smiled down at him as she spoke, features soft and understanding. Spike sighed and pulled forward into a hug, Sparkle leaning down to nuzzle against him.
“I’d like that,” Spike murmured in turn, the two slowly pulling away, bathed in the warm glow of mutual affection. The dragon held that pose for several long seconds.
“I’ll fetch Twilight from downstairs,” he muttered, as an afterthought.
Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.
The clock in the library’s main room let out a steady mechanical beat. Every swing of its pendulum marked away the seconds, late into the evening. In the center of the room sat Spike, a copy of Daring Do and the Emerald Dragon before him. It was a book that Spike had fallen in love with despite its irritating tendency to portray the suave, clever, and clearly much cooler dragon as the bad guy. To his left sat Twilight, a copy of 101 Efficient Enchantments sitting unfolded on the floor before her. To his right sat Sparkle, her old and fading copy of My Very First Spell (A Picture Book) hovering before her, a pad on the ground for her to take notes as she studied it.
Sometimes, one of them would look at their respective tomes and read a few lines. If it was Twilight, she would invariably start reading right to left, start, and then begin again. If it was Sparkle, she would take a note on her pad.
Sometimes, one of the ponies would look at Spike, and give him a reassuring hoof pat or a nuzzle.
Sometimes, the ponies would look at each other—but only very briefly, each of them quickly looking away.
Mostly, they just looked at the floor.
“Well, this was fun!” Twilight proclaimed after exactly an hour had passed, her gaze darting to the clock on the wall. She snapped her book shut, the distinctive clap echoing through the library.
“Definitely!” Sparkle agreed, rising quickly. “We should do it again soon!”
“Well, it’s late,” Twilight added, both of them already on their way out, Sparkle to her room, Twilight to her lab. Their voices fell into choir as they both called out: “Goodnight Spike!”
Spike watched each of them go, with growing frustration, and when they were gone, he let out a harsh sigh, crossing his arms with a grumble of: “Horseapples.”
“Spike!” Two voices called out in chorus, a pair of purple, horn-adorned heads sticking out of doorframes to spot him. “Language!”
“—and then they grounded me for a week! Each!” Spike complained, as he gathered Fluttershy’s books from the library shelves. The yellow pegasus had stopped by looking for a guide to caring for highly poisonous spiders, and with neither Twilight nor Sparkle in residence, it was up to Spike to assist her. He had also decided to take the chance to talk to her, since he would not be visiting her cottage again, ever. Fluttershy watched him work with a strangely curious expression, her eyes following every one of Spike’s dragging, shuffling steps.
“The worst part of it is the ball and chain; I have no idea what I’m going to do if someone asks for a book on the top shelf,” he added with a grumble. His little claws pulled the heavy weight behind him, the iron links and ball leaving a long scratch on the wooden floor. The chain rattled as he moved to scramble up the shelf ladder after the book, the ball propped against the ladder’s base.
“Well. That answers some of the questions I had about that,” Fluttershy started hesitantly. Spike pressed on before she could ask the rest, his claw plucking her book from the shelf.
“It would almost be easier if one of them was the evil clone. At least that would be over quicker than this… denial!” Spike exclaimed sharply, sliding down the ladder with Fluttershy’s last book held under one arm, his other taking hold of the chain to drag it back to the table.
“I know Princess Celestia checked and everything. But. Are you sure they’re entirely mentally stable?” Fluttershy checked with a hesitant squeak.
Spike stopped to rest, leaning on the mass of metal beside him as he caught his breath. “Yeah, why?” he asked, glancing up at her.
“Um,” Fluttershy paused for a moment. “No reason.”
“I just don’t know what to do. When they’re alone, it’s like good old Twilight Sparkle, but they’re trying to avoid each other so much it’s driving them crazy! This morning, I caught them both sneaking around so they wouldn’t have to see each other getting breakfast! It’s insane!” The more the dragon spoke, the more strain seeped into his tone, until by the end of it he was almost shouting.
“Oh, that sounds awful!” Fluttershy squeaked, reaching out to Spike with a hoof. “I haven’t noticed anything like that. They’ve both seemed so happy to spend time with friends.”
“That’s just it,” he sighed. “When they’re around friends, they’re fine. It’s each other they can’t stand.” He drummed his claws on the iron ball, expression distant and thoughtful, claws electing a steady ringing sound as he pondered.
“Maybe we should get Pinkie Pie to throw a party?” Fluttershy suggested. “Give them some time to get to know each other around other people.”
“They already know each other pretty well, Fluttershy,” Spike muttered. “If they just didn’t like each other I’d understand it. But they’re perfectly nice to each other.” After a moment more with his thoughtful gaze to the earth, he again glanced at Fluttershy. “Is this a pony thing or something? Would you freak out if there were two of you?”
“Oh… I don’t think so,” she answered softly, trying to break Spike’s frustration with a smile and good cheer. “I think I’d really like having a copy! It would be like making a new friend. One who’s quiet, and kind, and shares my love of stitching. And we’d have so much more time to take care of the animals! There’s this little family of ferrets near Hoofington that really needs help, but they’re so far away and it’s hard to find the time—”
As Fluttershy continued about the details of exactly what animals having a copy would allow her to better care for, Spike allowed his mind to drift. He tuned out the conversation, giving only occasional reflexive utterances of “uh-huh” and “go on” to keep things moving. Apart from the world, his mind drifted through scenario after scenario, seeking a solution to the problems of the two mares in his life. But nothing seemed to work, and after a time, he looked up to another figure in the room. The chain around his ankle stretched to its full length, as he trotted over to Pee-Wee’s perch.
“So, what do you think?” he asked the phoenix hatchling. The incendiary bird answered with a curious tweet, his little wings flapping as he looked at Spike. In the background, Fluttershy continued her explination oblivious to Spike’s muttered conversation with his magical pet.
“-could finish that new fish hatchery I’ve been thinking of, maybe even get Twilight to enchant it-”
“I don’t know, Pee-Wee,” Spike answered, gaze turned to the base of the bird’s perch. “I guess the spell might have done something but… I don’t think so. They’re both way too much like the pony I remember. She gets like this sometimes, you know? She doesn’t deal with stress well.” Pee-Wee tilted his head at Spike quizzically, delivering a sharp tap of the beak to the top of Spike’s head to make him look up. Tiny sparks rolled off the phoenix as he flapped his wings, tweeting energetically at Spike.
“-sing a duet in one voice! I bet the birds would just love that. They get spooked so easily and I’ve always wanted a second singer-”
“Mmm.” Spike tapped his chin, thoughtfully. “Not a bad idea. But Twilight usually needs a push before she can work it out on her own. The problem is I don’t know what’s bothering her—er—them. And we’ve already tried just having them around each other.” He shook his head briefly. “Whatever’s getting to them, they don’t want to talk about it.” Pee-Wee paused briefly before letting out a curious chirp.
“-stand up to those bullies! Pegasi foals needs pets too, and we can run an adoption agency in Cloudsdale if we want!”
“No,” Spike muttered, with a trace of sadness, shaking his head. “I know I should bring it up with them, but… what if they say nothing’s wrong? What if they start being awkward around me? I still think of both of them as Twilight Sparkle. I can’t let us drift apart!” Pee-Wee gave an encouraging twitter, as he nuzzled his beak against the dragon’s head.
“-tell mother that she finally got that other daughter she wanted! Then she’ll respect our choices!”
“You really think so?” Spike asked after a hesitant pause. Pee-Wee gave another firm tweet in response. “I…” He hesitated again, but then nodded to Pee-Wee, face taking on a firm expression. “You’re right. Twilight’s been there for me when I needed her. I need to be there for her!” The little dragon curled his claws and struck an assertive stance, Pee-Wee giving an exuberant flutter. After a moment, Spike once again assumed a thoughtful expression, but this time, his jaw was set with determination.
“-will not love us, then they’ll learn to fear us! We may be nice, but we’re pegasi, and not to be crossed!”
“The problem is that if I just ask them, they’ll swear they like each other and nothing’s wrong. I need a way to make them answer honestly.” Pee-Wee nodded at Spike, encouraging. “I need an environment where they feel safe, so they can express their feelings!” The little bird nodded again, with a faint tweet. “Somewhere full of people they trust and can be open with!” The phoenix gave a little sing-song warble, his wings fluttering.
“-and when one of us emerged victorious, I would know at last if good or evil is truly stronger-”
“Or, since I’m in a library full of magical books, I could just dose each of them with a truth potion!” Spike exclaimed, bringing a fist down into his open palm, Pee-Wee’s urgent head-shaking and wing flapping ignored. “I just need to find someone who can get the ingredients while I’m grounded.”
“-but before the final blow, she would stop, and run a gentle hoof down my trembling side-”
It was after a moment’s thought that Spike came to a conclusion, turning around with a: “Hey, Fluttershy!” The pegasus abruptly stopped at the sound of Spike’s voice, a deep, rosy blush rising to her cheeks as she whirled in place to face him. Her eyes were wide with startelement, wings high, as she took a step away from Spike.
“I, uh-”
“Listen, could you do me a favor? I have an idea to help Twilight and Sparkle work through all these issues they’re having, but I need your help.” Spike silently hoped he hadn’t missed anything important when he tuned Fluttershy out, but at the moment, it was the least of the concerns on his mind.
“A favor?” Fluttershy asked hesitantly, her wings rapidly lowering as she faced the baby dragon. “Um… sure! And you won’t tell anypony what you heard, right?”
“Heard what? Sorry, I wasn’t really listening,” Spike apologized, scratching behind his head.
“Nothing. Great. Of course I’ll help,” Fluttershy spoke quickly. A sigh of relief escaped her as she walked in Spike’s direction, hooves clopping against the wood. “Oh, um… just out of curiosity. There’s no danger of Twilight casting that spell on anypony else, is there?”
“No, don’t worry.” Spike shook his head. “It only works on the caster.”
“Oh,” Fluttershy muttered, gaze turned down. “I guess that’s for the best.”
“The dishonest breath of a unicorn, a puff of cloud from the cruel seasonal storms, mix in a base of cider to loosen the tongue, and then strike with the shoe of an honest earth pony,” Spike read aloud as Fluttershy piled the ingredients onto the library’s table. The first item took the form of a sealed bottle with water vapor forming on the inside, the distinctive imprint of a kiss left upon the side of the glass. The second hovered over the table, a storm cloud no larger than a pony’s hoof that flashed with tiny lightning bolts. The third and fourth items came as a pair, one of Applejack’s worn horseshoes resting against a tankard of her finely aged apple cider.
“Liquid will turn a bright gold. Allow up to half an hour to take full effect.” He paused for a moment, his eyes scanning back to the earlier instructions.
“Wow. You know, when I read it out loud, this book is kind of tribalist.” Spike shook his head as he shut the heavy leather tome that rested on the far side of the table. Chain rattled behind him as he trotted over to stand by Fluttershy’s side, glancing over the ingredients as he went.
“How do we mix the breath in with the cider?” Fluttershy asked, hooves on the table as she considered the ingredients before them.
“I dunno. I guess we use the bottle as a mixing container,” Spike answered hesitantly. “Where did you get the breath of a dishonest unicorn anyway?”
“Oh, I just asked Trixie. Once I explained it was for Twilight, she was happy to help.” Fluttershy paused for a moment, adding, “Applejack was happy to give up one of her shoes too.”
“Right... well. On three?” Spike reached up to grasp the tankard of cider as his other claw moved to grab the cork of the bottle. A moment later, Fluttershy nodded and reached up to grasp the miniature stormcloud. “One...” Spike slowly counted aloud. “two... three!”
At the count’s conclusion, Spike sharply yanked the cork off the bottle, the tankard in his other claw already in motion. Fluttershy sharply stuffed the cloud into the bottle’s narrow neck, and then joined in holding the bottle still as Spike poured cider down into it. More of the thick liquid ended up on the table than in the bottle, but where cider met storm cloud, the reaction was so violent that Spike thought the bottle might shatter. Cider boiled and hissed inside the bottle, splattering the inside of the glass with black droplets and sending a sharp jet of steam out of the neck. The steam met the incoming cider, splattering it in all directions, and Spike dropped the tankard as he stumbled back in surprise. Thinking quickly, Fluttershy grasped Applejack’s horseshoe and cleanly tapped the side of the bottle. A loud, pure note rang out, and to Fluttershy’s relief, the whistle of steam subsided.
It took about a minute for Fluttershy to help Spike up and gently clean the splattered cider out of his eyes. By the time she finished, the cider covering the table and floor had hardened into a sticky resin. Inside the bottle, cloud and boiling cider had both condensed down into a watery golden liquid. As Spike wiped the last of the sticky droplets from his face, Fluttershy hovered over the sticky trap on the library floor, retrieving the bottle from the tabletop.
“I’m sorry, Spike. We really made a mess,” she murmured, her slowly-beating wings carrying her towards the two containers they had prepared. One was a water bottle of the sort used by athletes, the other a teacup. Fluttershy carefully poured half the potion into each, though her eyes remained on the dragon near her. Spike lowered his washcloth from his face, looking over the massive puddle of resin that covered the center of the library. Drops were splattered over the shelves and even on the ceiling, and Applejack’s horseshoe and tankard were now solidly stuck to the floor. He slowly let out a breath, and swallowed.
“It’s fine,” he answered her, and a moment later repeated himself. “It’s fine. I’ll... see if I can clean it up before Sparkle gets home. What matters is that you get Twilight down here so those two can work things out.” He looked up to the nearest clock. “It’s 2:00 now. Sparkle should be back in half an hour. You need to find Rainbow Dash and Twilight, get her to drink the potion, and then get her back here by 3:00. Got it?” He turned his gaze back to Fluttershy, who nodded.
“Right!” Fluttershy picked up the water bottle, tucking it into her saddlebags as she started towards the door. She paused before leaving, turning back to look at Spike. “Um. The mess was really my fault. I don’t want you to get in—”
“Fluttershy.” Spike gruffly pointed at the clock, the pegasus giving an embarrassed little smile in return.
“Heh. Right.” She turned away from Spike and flew out the open window, into Ponyville’s skies.
“-you’re unsuited for, the team that you adore! So pack up, go home, you’re through!”
Fluttershy had hoped to find Twilight and Rainbow Dash alone. She could have trotted up to them, said hello, and told Twilight that Spike made her some punch. She’d add a little conversation, and she would just have to make sure Twilight knew to come back to the library after she was done training. Of course, Fluttershy had no such luck.
Singing always attracted a crowd.
“How could I / make a mare / out of you?”
Twilight’s stinging rebuke make the assembled ponies wince in sympathy. They were in the park during a weekend afternoon, and so all three breeds of ponies were evident in abundance. A flock of pegasi hovered over the sandy stretch where Rainbow Dash stood trapped, and Fluttershy was forced to maneuver around an equally large crowd of earth ponies and unicorns.
In the sand pit, Rainbow Dash was struggling to make headway, a bright red cloth tied to a tree on the pit’s far side. But even with her late arrival, Fluttershy immediately knew something was wrong with her. It was as though gravity weighed upon her harder then it should. She struggled to hold up her head and lift her wings. Her knees shook with her own weight. Her hooves had sunk deep into the sand, making it impossible for her to proceed, and she looked ready to collapse when Twilight shook her head dismissively.
Her body shuddered with strain, as her knees startled to buckle, her kneecaps brushing the sand. A hush came over the crowd, as they watched with breathless anticipation. Rainbow Dash’s eyes squeezed shut, her face contorted into a grimace. Even Fluttershy momentarily forgot about her mission entirely, spellbound by the sight before her.
And then, Rainbow Dash stood back up, and the crowd went wild.
“Be a mare!” the mass of them called, ponies in the back cheering and hopping up and down for excitement. When Rainbow Dash started to beat her wings to take the strain off her legs, the pegasi sang as one. “With wings as swift as a bolt of lightning!”
“Be a mare!” the crowd chanted again. Sand swirled around Rainbow Dash with the force of her rapid wingbeats, sweat pouring down her face. She tried to move a hoof, but found herself stuck fast, too deep in the sand to push forward. She hesitated for a moment, but then gritted her teeth and glared at the sand. With a visible wince, she carefully lifted a trapped hoof vertically, and then just as neatly pressed it forward. From that first careful step, she made more, her motions neat and precise as the unicorns sang, “With all the grace of a stalking crane!”
“Be a mare!” the crowd chanted for the third time. Fluttershy was well and caught up in the spirit of the moment, singing and shouting along with them as Rainbow Dash made it to the edge of the sand pit. The cloth was just out of reach, and no matter how Rainbow Dash struggled to raise a hoof or beat her wings, she could not find the height to reach it. She snarled, and struck the tree with her hoof with enough force to drive her horseshoes into the wood, starting the slow and brutal climb for those last few inches of height. “With all the strength of a raging fire!” the earth ponies sang.
“A pegasus! A one-pony hurricane!” the crowd finished as one, just as Rainbow Dash’s teeth ripped the cloth from its branch.
Fluttershy had not noticed that Rainbow Dash was wearing horseshoes, and so it caught her by surprise when Twilight’s horn came alight, and those horseshoes suddenly popped off. For a moment, the massive strength that Rainbow Dash was using just to hang on threatened to hurtle her into the branch above her head. But she let go, tumbling back into the sand pit. Her entire body went limp with strain, Twilight and several others rushing to help her up as the crowd started to chant. “Rain-bow Dash! Rain-bow Dash! Rain-bow Dash!”
“You did it!” Twilight exclaimed as two ponies delecatly helped Rainbow Dash back to her hooves, letting her soak in the praise from the crowd that continued to whoop and cheer. A smile was plastered all over the unicorn’s face as she watched Rainbow Dash spit out the red cloth.
“My whole body is numb!” Rainbow Dash managed a weak laugh, as she tried to blink the sweat out of her eyes. But a smile touched her face too, her blurry vision peering out to the crowd of chanting ponies around her. Then, Fluttershy lept forward and hugged her.
“Oh my gosh, that was incredible!” she burst out as she all but crashed into her friend, hooves squeezing tight around Rainbow Dash.
Rainbow Dash’s eyes went wide.
“Not numb! Not numb at all! Oh Celestia, why!? Why!?” Fluttershy jumped back in surprise at Rainbow Dash’s agonized outburst, but Twilight was quick to take her place. Twilight’s horn started to glow as her magic soothed Rainbow Dash’s agonized muscles.
Between the adorations of the crowd and Twilight’s ministrations, it was several minutes before Fluttershy could get a word in to her friends. Ponies came and went, wishing Rainbow Dash good luck or expressing their admiration, and she eventually recovered to the point that she could sit down on the dirt comfortably. The strain of the effort was still visible in the sweat that covered her body, and audible in every strained breath. But the smile never left her face, and not once did she complain.
Eventually, only Twilight, Rainbow Dash, and Fluttershy were left, and the three could at last talk in peace. “That was amazing!” Fluttershy was first to speak, trotting up to her friend. “I thought you weren't going to make it!”
“Oh yeah, Twilight’s a real slave driver.” At Rainbow Dash’s words, Twilight blushed and looked towards the earth, a faint smile appearing on her face. “But it was nothing I couldn't handle!”
“I’m just trying to push you to excel,” Twilight insisted, awkwardly scraping the ground with a hoof. “We’ve still got more to do today! There’s stretching exercises, and going over theory, and later, I thought we could—”
“Twilight.” Rainbow Dash raised a hoof, Twilight’s blush burning brighter.
“Or we could give you a bit to rest.” She corrected herself.
“Oh. Um,” Fluttershy muttered, when she remembered why she was here. “Are you sure you two wouldn't rather go back to the library? I just came from there, and um... Spike is really sorry about what happened. He was hoping you’d be back today and, um, he made you punch.” Her wing pulled her saddlebags opened, and she offered the bottle Twilight’s way. As Twilight accepted it, Rainbow Dash sniffed at the air.
“Do I smell cider?”
“Well, um,” Fluttershy replied. “There’s cider in it—”
“No, Rainbow Dash,” Twilight interjected sharply. “You know you’re on a training diet. No sugar and definitely no cider.”
“Aww c'mon!” Rainbow Dash threw her hooves up in frustration and then immediately regretted it, lowering her legs slowly with a visible wince. “I didn’t see you struggling just to get up!”
Twilight sighed, and after a moment, the cap of the bottle started to sparkle as it unscrewed itself. “We’ll both head back to the library and get some water.” She upended the open container, letting the golden liquid inside spill out onto the earth. Fluttershy tried to object, but all that emerged were faint noises of hesitation, until the liquid was all gone.
“I, um... I think that was supposed to be a gift for you, Twilight. From Spike.” Twilight shot Fluttershy an apologetic look, shaking her head.
“I know, Fluttershy. It’s so nice of you to help him like this. I should have a talk with him when we get back and let him know I’m not mad. Would you like to come with us? I know he likes it when you visit!” Seeing Twilight’s open mood gave Fluttershy hope that perhaps her mission had not been a total failure, and so she quickly nodded in response. “Ready to go, Rainbow Dash?” Twilight asked over her shoulder, as the pegasus rose to her hooves.
“Fur fing!” she mumbled through her words, Twilight looking back just in time for her to repeat, “Uh, I mean, sure thing! Let’s go.”
“—and then there was cider everywhere and I got stuck so I had to get a cloth but then I tracked it into the kitchen so I had to clean that up and—” Spike spoke in a single run-on sentence of indefinite length. He went on so long, Sparkle became moderately perplexed by his ability to do so without stopping for breath. The center of the library was a mess. Congealed cider was everywhere. Horseshoes, tankards and cleaning cloths were stuck in the mess like dinosaurs in a tar pit. Even Spike’s apron had somehow managed to get stuck there, the dragon having apparently discarded it in order to enable his own escape. Sparkle let him continue until she was sure no more relevant details were going to come forth, and then silenced him with a hoof to the shoulder.
“Spike,” she interrupted. “I’m not mad.”
“You’re... not?” Spike asked her hesitantly, glancing up from her hooves, where his eyes had so far rested.
“No, Spike,” she reassured him. “You did make a bit of a mess.” She glanced back at the cider spill. “Okay, a lot of a mess. But you took responsibility, started working to fix it, and I don’t think any permanent harm has been done.” She smiled down at him, moving her hoof to tilt his chin up. “And... well. I might have been a little hard on you last night.” The faint purple glow of her horn surrounded the ball and chain, and after a moment, its lock came undone. “You shouldn't use that language!” Twilight insisted. “But I know I’ve put you through a lot recently.”
For a moment, Spike was left at a loss for words, just scratching the back of his head with a claw. A flash of guilt rushed through his mind at the thought of deceiving the mare before him, but he quashed those thoughts, nodding to her. “Thanks, Sparkle. I um... I left you some tea. For when you got back from the schoolhouse.” He gestured in the kitchen’s general direction.
“Thank you, Spike.” Sparkle took a moment to enjoy Spike’s embarrassed smile, thinking back to earlier days. She soon trotted to the kitchen, levitating a few cider-splattered books along with her. She was wearing saddlebags stuffed with school supplies, but resolved to see to them only after she’d done her part to help clean. The books she dropped to the left side of the kitchen table, the tea Spike left for her on the right. She levitated a cloth towards her, dampening it in the sink as Spike stole a glance in through the open door.
“So. Um,” he began, carefully watching to see if the teacup moved. It was almost 2:45, and the little dragon was sure that Fluttershy would be coming back with Sparkle in tow at any moment. “How was teaching?”
“Good! I’m not really teaching, just helping Cherilee with some of her unicorn students, but it’s going wonderfully! Dinky has a real gift, despite a certain dragon’s efforts to stop her from developing it.” Sparkle tapped the table with her hoof for emphasis when she spoke, the faint glow of her magic levitating the teacup to her lips. Her ear quirked upwards when she heard Spike’s sigh of relief, an action that was quickly misinterpreted. “Don’t worry. I told her that you didn’t hate her, you were just having a bad day. We really should give you a chance to tell her in person though.”
“Sounds like you’re learning a lot.” Spike turned back to the mess, kneeling on the floor as he started to scrape the congealed cider from the wood. “Are you going to turn this into a letter to Celestia?”
“Well. Um,” Sparkle managed, a pause hanging in the air before she could continue. “Not everything needs to be part of my advanced studies, Spike. Some things are just worth doing for their own sake.”
The silence that followed lasted until Twilight burst in through the door at a gallop, two pegasi just behind her.
“Spike!” she shouted at the top of her lungs, the dragon sitting up so sharply at the sound of her voice he almost leapt into the air. “There you are! Find my copies of Perplexing Pony Plagues and The Complete Guide to Exotic Illnesses. Something’s wrong with Rainbow Dash.” Fluttershy had run in the door on her hooves, but Rainbow Dash was flying, despite being so worn it obviously pained her just to stay aloft. She was flying that way so that she could keep both forehooves clamped over her mouth. Her gaze shifted wildly when Sparkle trotted into the room, looking quickly between the three newcomers.
“What’s wrong?” Sparkle asked, quick to trot to Twilight’s side, her eyes keenly examining Rainbow Dash for any signs of illness or injury. “An advanced case of Creeping Fatigue could cause extreme—”
“No, the sweat is from exercise.” Twilight shook her head quickly, telekinetically pulling the pair of books out of Spike’s claws when he rushed back with them. Spike and Fluttershy exchanged a quick, helpless glance, one that went unnoticed by any of the other three ponies in the room. “She’s been experiencing uncontrollable, involuntary outbursts. It came on much too fast to be psychological, and it can’t be random that it showed up after extreme physical effort. Definitely some kind of nervous disorder.”
“What kind of outbursts?” Sparkle asked, quickly pulling a second reading stand into place.
“Um...” Fluttershy started to answer, exchanging another helpless glance with Spike. Her gaze went to the floor after that, Twilight cutting in.
“Random things.” Twilight shook her head, evading the question. “It might be a form of Tourtrots Syndrome. But the statements seem too varied.” As Twilight explained, Sparkle looked up to Rainbow Dash, watching her carefully.
“Rainbow Dash, I know this has to be embarrassing for you. But you won’t get better by straining yourself like that, and just what it is you’re saying might be important to diagnosing you.” Sparkle gave her a reassuring smile. “Please. Come down here and talk to us?”
Slowly, Rainbow Dash unfolded her hooves and lowered herself to the floor, knees sagging as they finally took the weight off her strained wings. “Thanks, Sparkle,” She sighed, emotional as well as physical relief running through her words. “I don’t know what I do without you. I’m just afraid to admit how grateful I am because I worry you’ll respect me less.”
At once, she slapped a hoof over her face, eyes going wide with shock as her cheeks flushed a brilliant red. Rainbow Dash urgently shook her head to signal for silence. Fluttershy let her gaze bore into the ground all the more intensely as Spike took a guilty step away from the table.
“It’s okay, Rainbow Dash,” Sparkle spoke into that silence. “You don’t have to say anything. I know.” Twilight looked between them in silence, her expression attentive but flat, as Rainbow Dash lowered her hoof to the ground.
“I also schedule rain on the days I’m supposed to babysit the Cutie Mark Crusaders!” She flinched as the words flew out of her mouth, like she had been physically struck. “And... and sometimes! I shut all the blinds in my house and pose in front of the mirror in my gala dress!” Tears started to form in the pegasus's eyes, and her attempt to again block her mouth only resulted in her sharply biting her hoof until it came free. “And sometimes I’m afraid that the reason the Wonderbolts don’t want me even after I did the sonic rainboom is because they know I’m just not—”
“Rainbow Dash!” Sparkle stepped around the table, and put a hoof on Rainbow Dash’s shoulder, slowly pulling the pegasus forward into a hug. “It’s okay.” She quietly shushed the sniffling pegasus, gently patting her on the back.
“You can’t tell anypony! None of you! None of what you heard!” Rainbow Dash insisted, blinking away tears as Twilight held her. “My life would be ruined!”
“Don’t worry,” Twilight assured, stepping out from behind the table to stand at Sparkle’s side. “No one will tell. We’ll find out what’s wrong with you and—”
“It was me!” Fluttershy yelled, throwing herself at Rainbow Dash’s hooves. “I can’t take the guilt. I did it!” Her wide eyes looked up at Rainbow Dash from the floor, now stained with tears in turn. “I spiked Twilight’s punch with a truth potion!”
Spike took another quiet step backwards, as three sets of pony eyes all focused on Fluttershy. “But I poured that drink out,” Twilight replied, perplexed. Rainbow Dash’s lips started to quiver with the force of another involuntary confession, but she was saved that humiliation by Sparkle’s own outburst.
“Fluttershy!” Her hoof stamped at the wooden floor beams, an angry snort emerging from her muzzle. Fluttershy whimpered, eyes squeezed shut as she shivered in the floor. She couldn't meet the three pairs of eyes looking down at her, her confession directed to the ground.
“I’m sorry! It’s my fault! Spike was just so worried about you and Twilight—”
“Spike!” Two heads turned at once, as identical voices shouted in unison, Spike put on the spot twice over. Both of them glared, but it was Twilight who took the lead. “Explain yourself!” She demanded, a sharp step forward backing Spike up against the bookshelves behind him. The little dragon’s eyes went back and forth in a panic, as he stammered incoherently.
“Wait...” Sparkle muttered, eyes going wide as she lifted a hoof to her lips. “Spike! Did you...?”
“I just wanted you to be honest about your issues with Twilight!” Spike pleaded, a look of shock and indignation passing over Sparkle’s face.
“So you decided to spike my drink? I don’t even have any issues with Twilight!” Sparkle stamped the floor with a furious snort. “I just wish she would disappear already so I could have my life back.”
Slowly, in a perfect mirror of Rainbow Dash’s actions just a moment ago, Sparkle raised a trembling hoof to cover her mouth.