//------------------------------// // Right Lesson, Wrong Time // Story: To Serve Bronies // by Fuzzy Necromancer //------------------------------// Spike gave a final push on the human's wide rump and they both tumbled into the upper attic of the magic kindergarten. They coughed in the cloud of thick, multicolored dust. "How do you know nopony is going to come up here?" it whispered. The stinking blood had begun to leak through its bandages, but the sharp, metallic aroma of old spellbooks covered it up. "Absolutely. Every school building has one musty old room where they pile up the old, moldy, out-of-date books because teachers and librarians hate throwing things away but nopony ever reads them," Spike said airily. It was also a place to store backup school supplies. He looked down the rows of compasses, barrels of protractors, lead ingots, reiki paddles, and target signs. Somewhere in there they had to have a nice big paper slicer, right? And exacto knives. "How would OW you know that?" The human rubbed it's head and got down on its front and hind limbs. "Well I am Twilight Sparkle's assistant," Spike said. "I've seen a lot of schools and libraries. Sometimes she teleports into them at night so she can sort and index the backlog." The creature laughed. It had a disturbingly pony-like laugh. "Oh that is so Twilight." Spike turned around. "You've met her before?" Twilight Sparkle told him she'd never even seen a human before. Why would she lie about that? "Not exactly," it said. "It's too weird to explain. I've just, like, heard about lots of the things going on in Ponyville." Spike imagined a whole swarm of humans, creeping around the Everfree Forest to interrogate rabbits, jackdaws, and rogue dragons. It wouldn't surprise him if Angel turned out to be a traitor, the sneaky little backstabbing…no, Angel wouldn't collaborate with freaky hoofless omnivores. He'd helped Spike out of a nasty scrape, and that thought was beneath him. All his anger and suspicion turned into a hard knot of guilt. "Does your herd live anywhere near here?" he said, nervously. Maybe it could signal other humans for help. Maybe a swarm of them would come out with traps and flint tools and carve him into a pasty dragonloaf. Flint was one of the few materials sharp and hard enough to pierce his inner hide, and the legends talked about human pack leaders killing dragons to make armor out of their skin and trophies from their bones, along with stealing their hoards. "Oh no. I've actually got no idea how to get back where we all live. See, we've got these things called televisions," the human began, in a low voice. Spike took the same approach to its rambles as he did Twilight's. Snippets of sound broke through the haze like "Greek mythology", "system of morality" and "Granny Smith slash Pinkie Pie shipping". "Any questions?" the human whispered, eagerly. "No, I got it," Spike said. It was strange that a magicless, non-ungulate could talk to him, and even talk like Twilight Sparkle, but they were basically just animals. It wasn't like hurting a pet or a dragon. They didn't even come from eggs. Spike finally found the spot where they held the really big paper cutters. Huge sheets had to be folded a dozen times and bound with sealing charms at each stage. He'd asked Twilight why they couldn't just use normal paper, but her explanation had words like "metathaumaturgical" and "phasic resonance" in it. The tricky part wouldn't be slicing it in two, he realized. He'd have to trap it first so it couldn't wriggle out of the way, and then once he did cut it open he'd need a way to transport it across town without getting mobbed by hungry unicorns. "Um, Spike?" the human said in a dry, breathless voice. He turned around. Its eyes looked kind of red around the edges, and its body shook a lot. He didn't know why these details should stand out among the raw, ragged bandages, dark coating, and shiny metal, but they did. "Thanks for listening. I mean I try not to talk about myself too much, and really I'm a lot better off than, like, kids in the Gaza Strip, but it gets to me." It sighed. "I'm still glad I came here." Spike nodded like he knew what she was talking about. Humans were very strange creatures. He felt…weird. It was kind of like seeing the phoenix egg with those jerky dragons, only the difference between a big mean dragon and a nice unicorn that cared about you got all fuzzy. A few days after he'd written that friendship report, they'd flown all the way to the Golden Oak Library just to apologize to him. They had looked really tired and red-eyed, but jittery, and they mumbled some mixed-up explanations about how bad they felt, and how sorry they were about that, and told him that he was really, deep down, an incredible guy that they had great respect for and the ultimate paragon of dragonhood. They made a very big point of apologizing for ever having said anything bad about his "namby pamby princess friend", and that there was no such thing as a namby pamby princess. They told him in very loud voices, while looking at the sky, that every single princess in all of Equestria deserved nothing but reverence and respect, and that they greatest sign of their divine wonderfulness was their ability to forgive and forget, or at least show mercy to very stupid adolescent dragons who don't know what they're talking about. He didn't really understand most of what they said, but he told them it was all cool and accepted their apologies. He'd also made jasmine tea and quartz cakes for them before they left. They'd just looked so…something he didn't have a word for. "So, you said there was something up here I could use to hide myself? Is it like, a kind of anti-magic cloaking field? Maybe a spell that non-unicorns can cast?" "Not exactly," Spike said. His feelings were all twisted up and confused. He thought back to all the friendship letters he had taken down for Twilight and her gal pals. It's better to give than to receive. He sighed and fiddled with his tail. "Just stay here until it gets dark, when the kids and the teacher go home. I'll get some food, and um, take you somewhere else when the coast is clear. Just whatever you do don't leave without me. Okay?" "Sure thing," the human said, patting him on the back. " And uh…could you take down a letter to Celestia? For me?" Spike's little heart skipped a few beats. This was getting more and more uncomfortable. Doing the right thing would be even harder if he wrote down a letter for this animal. He didn't know why. "M-maybe later. I really should get going." He didn't have to do the right thing just now. He could get cookie sheets and wax paper from Sugarcube Corner, along with a few spices, and he could copy down that recipe from the book when Twilight finished re-reading it. "I've got some cliff bars and dried fruit in my backpack," she said. "No I should really get going." "One more thing?" she said, looking at him knowingly. "I mean, like, if she turns out not to be a zombie, or gets back to normal…did you ever consider checking out somepony other than Rarity?" "How did you know that?" he hissed. "I told you, remember? Anyway, don't keep chasing after somepony when they fail to requite your affection." The human tapped its nose and gave him a big wink. "Take it from somebody who has experience." Spike stared at her. Fire built up in his throat. Sure, obviously a freaky savage meat-monster from the Everfree Forest would know lots of stuff about how to woo the most sophisticated pony in the history of the planet. He would have to use extra marinades, white pepper, and a low flame.