//------------------------------//
// Chapter Eight - Maredrake 
// Story: DECEPTION 
// by Christian Harisay 
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	Spike lay in his basket bed, utterly motionless in the dim bedroom, staring at nowhere in particular. The lines between slumber and consciousness had been blurred for him that morning, so he had no idea much time had passed since he had awoken to continue doing nothing like he was now. Not that it mattered much to him, though; he felt just as depressed now while he was awake as he did when he was asleep.

One of the reasons he used to enjoy sleeping so much, be it a quick nap or an extensive slumber after a long day, was because he used to have rather enjoyable dreams, but those felt so far gone now. Gone were the pleasant dreams of being a hero like in those bedtime stories he’d heard when he was younger, or of finally getting his wings and learning to fly. Gone were the thrilling visions of accompanying Twilight and her friends on their adventures, of exploring new and exotic places, discovering fascinating new things, or battling dangerous foes, be they zombies, aliens, or the pair of albino laboratory mice with a scheme to conquer Equestria like he had dreamt about that one time. And gone were those precious fantasies of laying his heart out for Rarity, finding the courage to ask her to be his very special somepony, and finally earning her love.

Those dreams were long gone, and in their place he’d been getting nothing but insomnia, troubled sleep, terrible nightmares, and heartbreaking dreams on a nightly basis.

Seems like even my dreams have gotten just as depressed as I am, Spike thought dourly.

He couldn’t stop himself from brooding about his latest terrible dream. Of standing under the endothermic shadow of Carousel Boutique in the pouring rain, knocking on that obstinate front door until his knuckles ached from the abuse. He could still feel the freezing downpour trying to steal away his body’s warmth; still feel his own gaping anguish gorge itself on his fool’s hope that Rarity would eventually open the door and invite him inside; still feel the weight of all his guilt and regret when his frustration and relentless anxiety made him snap at the Twilight in his dreams when she had just wanted to help him. He especially despaired over that last part, when he’d lost his temper and yelled at her… and put that look right back onto her face again.

Worst of all, the entire discourse had been nothing but another dream.

Spike moved for the first time in a long while, and felt the blood shift in his body as he twisted around in bed to cast his gaze back at Twilight. The unicorn lay in her bed, still nestled into her heavy bedsheets and lost in Morpheus’s embrace, as indicated by of her deep, heavy breathing and the placid look on her face.

His frown dug in deeper at the peaceful sight of her. He yearned for some respite to let him pull his blanket from his bed and snuggle up next to her, just like he always used to do whenever he had a horrible nightmare. But he couldn’t bring himself to do anything but stare longingly at her for the same reasons that he wouldn’t even acknowledge her open invitation to talk about his current problems yesterday on the balcony.

Spike finally bothered to sit up in his bed, keeping his gaze upon Twilight. His misery had become a stone in his throat. He still felt so guilty about rounding on Twilight that he actually felt compelled to apologize to her when she awoke, but it had only been another dream. And the more he dwelt upon it, the worse it made him feel.

I could have spoken to her, Spike bitterly thought. It was just another dream... I could have practiced asking Twilight for help…

He slowly looked away from her, sighing. Such was his sadness that it felt like he’d just woken up into another dream today, he thought as he put his cold feet to the floor. Even thought Twilight was so close to him, she was still so distant, and Spike couldn’t bring her back.

Hopelessness writhed through him. Right then, he made a silent pact to himself to practice asking for help the next time he got the chance. But he couldn’t do that now: his throat was still too desiccated and constricted to form any words. So he stood up made his way toward the door, rationalizing that he might as well start making breakfast for everypony right now before Twilight inevitably asked him to. A cold glass of milk might help soothe his throat a little bit, too.

He stopped at the threshold, and looked back at the still-unconscious unicorn again. For the second time, he was hit with the urge to turn around and crawl into bed with Twilight… but then she would ask what was wrong, and it was too late to give an honest answer now.

That was only five days ago. It felt like something from another lifetime now, when the worst thing that had come from trusting a friend with sensitive information was Twilight revealing his crush on Rarity.

The only force of will that pushed him to turn around and finally start making his way to the kitchen again was that he didn’t feel like crying that early in the morning. So instead, he made his cautious descent down the stairs, dragging his feet across the hardwood floor towards the kitchen, where he’d hopefully find a distraction from his overcast thoughts.

He heard someone moving around in the kitchen, and he stopped in his tracks. His first thought was that Pinkie must have woken up early too and was rummaging through the fridge, but that suspicion was dispelled the moment he heard another step and realized it lacked the tell-tale clop of a hoof.

His entire body tensed up like he was about to be hit, and his claws balled up into fists.

The door to the kitchen swung open, quiet as a shadow, the silent herald to Avarice as he strode through the portal, carrying an entire wooden crate of quills with a cash register balanced upon it.

Spike had already begun to shake, both from fear and from sheer anger, but Avarice paid him no mind. The thief just casually walked over to the center table, and laid his plunder upon the floor. Then as Spike watched, Avarice breathed tendrils of fire that circled the base of the table, which made three glowing red circles, inlaid with strange runes, manifest before his eyes. Avarice reached out to the luminescent rings, and with a flick of the wrist, spun them in opposite directions, stopping them when he caught sight of a particular rune upon each of them.

With the glyphs aligned, the runic ensemble glowed ever brighter, then dissipated as more light seeped up from the cracks between the planks of wood. With his peculiar ritual complete, Avarice finally began to lift up the floorboards to reveal his stash of stolen goods.

“You’re up early,” Avarice quietly noted without even bothering to look at Spike as he placed his pilfered items into the impromptu safe.

Spike hard-swallowed the lump in his throat. “What’s it to you?” he tried to growl, but it came out more like a whisper.

“Absolutely nothing,” Avarice responded. “Just an observation. It pays to to be observant when you’re me.”

Avarice stood up and began to walk back towards the kitchen without locking up the makeshift floor-safe. Spike raised an eyebrow at this, and looked back and forth between the dragon’s winged back as it slid  into the kitchen again and the hole in the ground, which he noted had much more space hollowed out from before. The sinking suspicion that Avarice had merely left to acquire more property arose in Spike’s mind, and was soon confirmed when Avarice reappeared through the door, dragging an entire sofa behind him.

Spike couldn’t help but throw out his arms in protest. “Oh, come on! Really?!”

“Yes, really.” Avarice hissed. “Now be quiet, or you’ll fall down the stairs again.”

Spike tensed up as a small chill swept through him, but his indignation was still hot. “Just… why?” he blurted out, a little more quietly.

“I saw this couch and thought to myself, ‘Hm, I want that couch.’ So I took it. Simple as that.” Avarice explained as he hefted said couch into the cache, which was now spacious enough that the entire piece of furniture easily fit within.

Even as he simmered in his own frustration, Spike felt a cold curiosity forming inside, and the words came to his mouth before he could second guess them.

“Avarice...” Spike cringed, “Can I ask you something?”

“No,” Avarice responded curtly as he got back down on one knee, replaced the floorboards, and sealed them together with his fire.

Spike’s indignation sparked into a little flame, and he stomped towards Avarice. “Answer my question, and you get to ask one of your own. That’s how your stupid game works, isn’t it?”

Avarice responded with a little smirk. “Now that’s more like it.” He rose from the hidden opening to the floor stash, sat down on the table and crossed his arms. “What do you want to know?”

Spike looked in between Avarice and the floorboards, searching for words. “What do you get out of… all this?”

Avarice’s expression became somewhat cross. “You just love your loaded questions, don’t you? If you want a conclusive answer, define ‘all this.’”

Spike tried to stand up a little taller as he managed a reply. “What do you get out of the thievery? Aside from the stuff, I mean… Why is it so important to you that you keep going out and stealing other pony’s things?”

“Hmm, what do I get out of constant thievery?” Avarice repeated, feining thoughtful contemplation. “Satisfaction, fulfillment, feelings of gratification, a profound sense of accomplishment, and a bunch of cool stuff.”

Spike looked at Avarice with a bemused expression. “That’s, uh… not quite the answer I was looking for...”

“Well, it’s the one you get. If you don’t like it, you can go crying to Twili—Oh wait, I guess you can’t go complaining to Twilight about it,” Avarice smirked.

Spike’s fists clenched into hammers.

Avarice leaned forward, again emphasizing his mighty stature. “And now, per the rules of our game, you owe me an answer. I’ll ask the same question; what do you get out of what you’re doing?”

Spike’s snarling expression temporarily lessened for one of confusion. “And… what exactly am I doing?”

Avarice looked Spike dead in the eyes. “Pretending to be a pony.”

Spike reeled back. “No I’m not!”

Avarice maintained eye contact even as his expression shifted to flat and unamused. “You like to wear aprons, bake cookies, cater to your friends’ tea parties, and you even drink milk.” Avarice sneered with a look of disgust. “Frequently. And for that matter, you actually believe it expedient to have friends.”

“So what if I have friends or I like snickerdoodles and milkshakes? That doesn’t mean I’m pretending to be a pony!” Spike protested.

“Oh?” Avarice shot back with a petulant twitch of his head. “And how many other dragons have you known who indulge in confectionaries or fraternize with their prey?”

“Well… you like doughnuts...”

An intense leer emerged on Avarice’s face, and a low rumble crept out from his snarling maw. “A loathsome result of being trapped inside your head for so long. A few things about you have infected me. Yet you still won’t find me yucking it up with any pony. Dragons are not a gregarious species: ponies are. You being as sociable as you are makes you a proverbial maredrake if I ever saw one.”

“I’m not a… wait, what’s a maredrake?”

“Call it the colloquial term for an imposter, a counterfeit, fraud, fake, changeling under the skin, something masquerading as something that it isn’t.” Avarice explained. “The term is derivative of an archaic superstition surrounding a species of nightshades of the same name. It’s known for having peculiar shaped roots that vaguely resemble the body of an equine, which lead those weed-grazers to the woefully inaccurate misconception that the plant wished it could be a pony.”

Avarice momentarily looked away. “Wow, that doesn’t sound any less idiotic even when I’m the one explaining it.” Avarice returned his piercing gaze to Spike. “Either way, ‘maredrake’ has become a term for disingenuous posers, such as yourself. But if you look at the word as a portmanteau, it becomes even more appropriate in your case. You’re so non-draconian that I’m hard-pressed to even call you a dragon. You remind me more of a drake. And while those filthy, overgrown lizards may resemble dragons, their mere existence is a mockery of my kind’s perfection. Any dragon worth their treasure is honor-bound to destroy any and every drake on sight.”

Spike gulped as Avarice flexed his powerful claws, emphasizing their razor-sharp points.

“You still haven’t answered my question.” Avarice stated, glaring at Spike with impatience.

Spike’s burning indignation returned, reforging his hardened stance. “So what if I am a ‘maredrake?’ I get a place to call home, I’ve got a roof over my head, a bed to sleep in, and food in the kitchen. I can learn, grow, and be of use to others. And most importantly, I’ve got friends who love me like family. That’s what I get out of pretending to be a pony!”

Avarice continued to scrutinize Spike with a look of disgusted disappointment. “That’s it? That pittance is all you can claim? That paltry sum is the reason you’ve renounced your very nature?!”

“Yeah, ‘that’s it!’ I’d say that’s an awful lot! Certainly a lot more than you can say you’ve gotten! I’ve got pony friends who love me, and all you’ve got is a trench full of stuff!”

“And that’s all I need! That’s all any being with any self respect should need!” Avarice fired back, and advanced on Spike in that way that always made him recoil.

Avarice leaned in close to Spike, eyes like daggers. “Try to keep your pony-muddled brain from imploding as I explain this to you. I’m not after items, I’m after valuables.”

“What’s the difference?”

“The difference is that an item could be literally anything, from grass blades to the dirt of a flower pot. Those things aren’t valuable.”

“So what is?”

“Now that’s more open to your our purviews, since value is subjective: something purely based off the emotional attachments associated with it. That’s partially how any being capable of conscious thought categorizes things: you, me, everybody… But most importantly, me.”

Spike opened his mouth to argue, but Avarice interrupted him.

“I say the name ‘Twilight,’ and you instantly think of a neurotic, lavender, unicorn mare. This summons feelings of attachment, fondness, and affection for your guardian figure, and, at the moment, disappointment and anxiety over the distance currently separating you two. I proclaim the glorious title of ‘Avarice,’ and you picture your’s truly. You instantaneously feel terror and loathing towards the dragon whom you largely blame for the disconnect between you and your schizophrenic, demented owner.”

Spike scowled, but Avarice carried on regardless.

“Inanimate objects are subject to the same treatment. I say ‘gold,’ and you think of that rare, shiny metal that one never really can have enough of. And that’s what I’m after: things of importance.”

“So why not go dig up gems or gold, instead of stealing everypony else’s belongings and tormenting me?”

“Because I have to stay in Ponyville to keep you in line, and this wretched town has a notable deficiency of the covetous things that dragons usually pursue. So for the moment, I have to settle for taking things that matter to others… Though I have to admit, metaphorically stealing some pony’s illusion of safety by defiling their home is a reward in and of itself. Either way, I still get something valuable, so it all achieves the same end.”

“But why do you have to do all that to feel good about yourself?” Spike asked. “Why can’t you just make something for yourself? Or… I dunno, have something to offer somepony else? You know, give back?”

“Give… BACK?! Wha… are you… grrr….” Avarice smacked his palm against his forehead with enough force to give a weaker being a concussion. “Are you just playing the fool to aggravate me, or are you really that stupid? You read what I wrote on those prison doors: ‘The only thing that matters is yourself.’ That’s why dragons live in solitude. We’re not out to look for the approval of anyone or anything but our own. Every dragon is by default their own number one. But dragons still need something to do, which is why we set out to decorate that big, shiny ‘#1’ with as many valuables as possible, to make ourselves all the more grandiose with all the precious things one owns. That’s why the life goal of every dragon in the history of dragons is to hoard all the treasure they can… except, of course, for you!”

“Because living how you say a dragon is supposed to live doesn’t leave any room for friendship!” Spike retorted as he took up a more aggressive stance.

Avarice glared at Spike with contempt, but a single amused snort lead him into a series of mordant chuckles. “So you really are that stupid. Those principles of ‘love’ and ‘friendship’ that you believe as the most valuable things in life are really just insidious ploys that ponies use to control each other, especially those too insecure with themselves to live only for their own sake.”

Spike crossed his arms and sneered. “Now that’s just ridiculous.”

“No, it isn’t,” Avarice immediately cut back. “You know that vile idiom, ‘you get what you give,’ right?”

“Yeah, so?”

“Think back to what I said earlier about how people attach meanings and emotional values to subjects, then think of how that applies to the concept of passion being give-and-take. If you ever care about anyone else with any level of sincerity, you’ll feel compelled to serve them somehow, even if it’s not beneficial or even counterproductive to your own interests. The moment you owe anyone an obligation like that, they own you.”

“No they don’t,” Spike retorted.

“Yes, they do.”

“No they don’t!”

“Then why does Twilight always make you clean up the library?”

Spike stood there with an open mouth, unable to compose a retort.

“And even if you hate doing it, even if it’s so she can eschew her responsibilities and go play pattycake with all of her friends, you still do it anyway.”

Spike was at a loss. Avarice was bombarding him with artillery too keen a target and too destructive an ordinance for him to withstand unscathed. Having an argument with anypony who could articulate their point better than he could, be it Twilight or even Pinkie Pie, and trying to discern a flaw in their logic made him feel like he was trying to solve a Rubuck’s cube. But fighting with Avarice always made him feel like trying to solve the Rubuck’s cube within a narrow time limit. While Avarice was hitting him. With the cube.

“What’s even more treacherous is how this constant reliance on ‘friendship’ makes you dependent on the approval of others. Seriously, you can’t function without it. Just think back to the time that Owloysius first showed up. You got so heartbroken when you came to the realization that Twilight didn’t love you anymore that you threw a fit and ran away.” Avarice smirked. “Check.”

“Twilight still loves me!” Spike protested. “If she didn’t, I wouldn’t still be living here!”

“And yet here you are, beginning to doubt even that,” Avarice said, crossing his arms. “That quiver in your voice, the way you shake, and especially your rapid blinking are a dead give-away. If you had any sense of importance, you would have left this town and never come back. If you had any pride, you’d be sitting on top of a mountain of treasure right now.”

Avarice got down on all fours to look Spike directly in the eyes as he chided the smaller dragon with a scowl. “If you were a real dragon, you’d have just eaten that damn ruby.”

Spike shook his head back and forth. “No… no, you said it yourself: love is give and take. Even if I have to lose something, I get it back in return. That’s something your items can’t give you.”

“Why are you stuck on this ‘need someone else’ mentality? If you’re driven to get others to care about you, it’s because you can’t care enough about yourself. So what if the things I own aren’t concerned with my well being? I don’t need them to be, and I shouldn’t need them to, either.”

“My friends don’t think of me as an item that they own just so they can feel better about themselves,” Spike hissed.

Avarice’s leered back. “And my items can’t kept rejecting my intimate affections.”

The bitter cold of silence fell upon the library foyer. Spike could only stare ahead with his mouth slightly open. His throat was too dry and tangled up in knots to speak. His mind was just a smoldering crater with the echo of that last explosion still ringing within his skull. His heart shrivelled and froze, buried underneath the permafrost.

Avarice slowly turned around, and raised himself back onto his hind legs as he walked towards the kitchen door, then growled:

“Checkmate.”

Avarice put a set of claws to the door, then froze. Without a word, he looked back at Spike, partially unfurled one of his wings, and withdrew Spike’s fiery marble. He twiddled it around his claws for a moment, then flicked the marble back towards Spike, and left.

The marble rolled across the floor and came to a stop when it collided with Spike’s foot. Spike was only dimly aware of the event. He just stood there, shaking as screams of frustration clawed at his parched throat in their carnal riot to escape.

His mind was a blizzard that he was lost in, but he didn’t look for shelter or a way to escape the harrowing winds and ferocious cold. He didn’t even care if he froze to death in the storm.

I should have just stayed in bed, he thought. I shouldn’t have even woken up.


- - - - - -


Twilight sat by the center table in the front room, having buried her muzzle in a book as she waited for the rest of her friends to arrive. Her eyes darted from sentence to sentence, sometimes reading one over again, and even on occasion reviewing entire paragraphs after having just gone over them to make certain to herself that the point was made unmistakably clear.

She winced a little. Her imaginary limbs were starting to bring their very real pain again, so Twilight closed her eyes and envisioned herself with wings. It helped take the edge off, but not by much, and she hoped for enough time to try a more alleviating solution before having to get around to group business.

“Um, excuse me, Twilight...”

The unicorn jumped a little in surprise. The voice that made itself known was so quiet and subdued that Twilight almost could have sworn Fluttershy had snuck into the library and somehow crept up upon her, but her sudden lurch in the direction from which the voice came revealed only Pinkie Pie, who still looked grey and unhappy.

“I’m sorry,” Pinkie mumbled as she looked away, her posture becoming even more submissive. “I didn’t mean to scare you...”

“Oh, no need to apologize. I just got really absorbed into what I was reading,” Twilight replied as she closed her book and turned to face Pinkie. “Is everything alright?”

“Yeah, everything’s fine,” Pinkie stated, disingenuous. “I got something that we could use to make a totem for me...”

“Oh?” Twilight leaned in with authentic curiosity. “May I see it?”

Pinkie hesitated, then reached around behind her back and slowly withdrew her item to display for Twilight. It resembled Pinkie’s party cannon, but on a much smaller scale. Six revolving chambers painted a glossy hot pink interconnected with the baby blue barrel back near the handle, with the excess space of the magazine slung below the barrel. Breaking up the otherwise bright and colorful palette was a cool grey stock with the white silhouette of a pony in mid-trot stamped upon it.

Twilight’s eyes went wide as she recognized Pinkie’s totem in an instant. “Is that...”

“The same thing I used to fight… you-know-who the last time we shared a dream together.” Pinkie finished.

“It’s my party launcher… I named him ‘Chino,’” Pinkie said with a tiny, wry smile. “I figured since it helped protect me the last time we went into a dream, then it could also help me know when I’m in a dream, and help keep me safe until I wake up.”

“Wow… that’s actually very clever, Pinkie.” Twilight smiled, impressed.

For the briefest moment, Pinkie’s expression softened, and Twilight caught a glimpse of the happy and lovable pony that she so desperately wanted to bring back. Then the moment passed, and that pony disappeared, buried underneath shrouds of sadness.

“But to make sure it works, we still have to go into a dream, don’t we?” Pinkie asked, worry acid-etched on her face.

Twilight herself tensed up a little; such a simple question made her feel Pinkie’s despair. “Yeah...” she replied, a little disheartened herself. “Yeah, we will.”

Pinkie squirmed and her frown deepened at the confirmation. “But what if something goes wrong? What if I accidently bring in a projection from one of my nightmares into the dream with me?” Pinkie gasped and her eyes grew wide in fear. “What if he shows up again? What if he tries to hurt you again, or my friends, and it’ll be my fault because—”

Twilight reached out and grabbed Pinkie around her shoulders. “Easy, Pinkie. Don’t be afraid. It’ll all still be a dream that we’ll wake up from, and whatever is causing you so much pain is the exact same thing we’ll be training to fight. And even if the worst happens, you’ll have all your friends there to protect you.”

Pinkie didn’t entirely relax, but she did look deep into Twilight’s eyes, and after holding a ponderous expression, her eyes reflected understanding.

A brisk knock came from the from door of the library. Pinkie and Twilight both turned to look at the door, then Pinkie looked back at Twilight, her eyes filled with the dread of a foal about to get their second shots.

Twilight returned Pinkie’s trepidation with a warm smile. “Your friends have come to help.”

Pinkie was still tense and on high alert, but she gave Twilight a little nod, prompting Twilight to stand up and attend to the guests at the door. Twilight opened the entrance to her home, and was greeted with the sight of Rainbow Dash, with Applejack, Rarity, and Fluttershy right behind her, each with a saddlebag strapped to them.

“‘Sup, Twi?” Rainbow somewhat nonchalantly stated.

“Hello, everypony. Thank you all for coming. Please, come in,” Twilight said as she opened the door wider and moved aside.

The four mares stepped inside the library, and Twilight shut the door behind them. She excused herself for a moment and began to trot up the stairs. Rainbow continued walking towards the center table, but then she caught sight of Pinkie and stopped in her tracks.

“Oh. Hey, Pinkie,” Rainbow said sheepishly, rubbing the back of her head with a hoof. “How ya’ holding up?”

Pinkie’s lips moved with the intent to say something, but no words managed to find purchase from her mouth, so instead she tried to smile. No smile broke through her flustered expression, however, but the one she tried to plaster onto her face could not have been more forced.

Rainbow frowned a little at the conflicting expressions contorting her friend’s face. “Hey, don’t worry about that. We’re here to help, remember?”

Pinkie’s face was still bereft of joy, but her expression softened at Rainbow’s words.

Meanwhile, Twilight had reached the top of the stairs and stuck her head into the bedroom. 

“Spike, everypony has arrived. Could you fill up a bucket of water, get some towels and my watch, and bring them downstairs, please?” Twilight asked.

Spike responded with an indecipherable mumble.

“Sorry, what was that?”

“I said ‘sure,’” Spike said, barely more audible.

“Oh,” Twilight stated blankly as Spike trudged past her. “Thank you very much, by the way. This does a lot to help.”

“Whatever,” Spike disheartedly replied.

Twilight frowned at Spike’s behavior. His entire demeanor had been cold and distant ever since she’d woken up. She suspected he was still feeling despondent from the dream she had entered the night before, but he had skirted around the subject even when Twilight asked him if he’d had another nightmare, trying to sound like she didn’t already know. He still wouldn’t open up to her, and though Twilight had the wisdom not to press any harder, she couldn’t help but once more be left with the sinking suspicion that something more serious was occurring.

Whatever it was, Twilight couldn’t try asking him about it again before Spike walked into the bathroom and shut the door behind him, leaving Twilight with little else to do but return downstairs to address her friends.

“Spike is busy getting everything ready to wake us up from the dream,” Twilight said as she trotted down the stairs. “Did everypony bring a personal item to make a totem with?”

“Sure did,” Applejack merrily replied as she reached into her saddlebag and withdrew a length of rope.

Twilight looked at the rope with some level of disatisfaction. “Applejack, I said bring something specific to you.”

“This is specific to me, Twi.” Applejack retorted. “It might just look like any ol’ rope to you, but this is my rope, and I knew it through an’ through about as well as Rarity knows her dresses. I know how flexible it is, its strength, the way it feels across my teeth, how many times each strand twists around the other... everything.”

Twilight conceded. “Alright, I get it. If you feel it suits you, then you can use it.” She turned to the other three. “What did the rest of you bring?”

Fluttershy hid her face more behind her mane. “Oh, um, I brought this music box,” she said as she revealed the ornament in question. “It’s custom made, and I’ve had it ever since I was a filly.”

“Perfect,” Twilight nodded, and turned to Rainbow. “What about you?”

Rainbow looked around the room and out the window, her eyes shifty and nervous. “Yeah, I got something… but you’d better not tell anypony that I have this.” Then with one last flicker of her eyes, she opened up her saddlebag, and procured from within a clear, brilliant gem that had been inlaid into an ornate, polished golden relief of a sun emerging from the clouds, complete with a golden chain.

Rarity couldn’t help but gasp at the sight of Rainbow’s necklace. “My stars! Rainbow, why didn’t you tell me that you possessed such a beautiful piece of jewelry?”

Applejack chuckled. “Yeah, Rainbow. Why didn’t you tell us ya had somethin’ so fru-fru and frilly?”

“Shut it,” Rainbow growled at Applejack. “Just so you all know, I’d never get something like this for myself.”

Applejack leaned in closer, her expression devious. “And yet here ya are with that.”

Rarity cut back in. “Darling, you simply must tell me how you came into possession of something so gorgeous.”

Rainbow sighed and looked off in the distance. “It was a gift from my dad.”

The humor on Applejack’s face disappeared instantaneously.

“Well, your father has impeccable tastes,” Rarity complemented with a smile. “See? I’m not the only one who thinks you’d make a beautiful mare if you just put a little effort into it.”

Rainbow huffed. “My old man knows I’m a tom-colt if ever there was one. He just likes to tease me about it sometimes. I suppose that’s another way that I’m like him...”

“Ah,” Applejack noted as a little of her previous slyness began to return. “Daddy’s little filly?”

“No!” Rainbow Dash fired back, then pawed at the floor. “Okay, yeah...”

Twilight turned to Rarity. “And what did you bring?”

Rarity beamed with anticipation. “Well speaking of precious gems and treasured gifts, I could scarcely think of a better personal belonging to get the honor to be my totem than—” she paused for dramatic effect as her purse glowed with her azure magic “—this.”

Rarity lifted her totem from its confines, and proudly displayed her golden neckband with its center housing a shining ruby cut in the shape of a heart.

“Is that the same fire ruby Spike gave you?” Fluttershy asked.

 Rarity fondly looked over the gem. “It is indeed. I was coming up with all sorts of ideas for what I could use, but then I thought of this, and it just seemed to click.” She explained as she returned the ruby to her purse.

Twilight put on a little smile. “Alright. Pinkie has hers,” she said, pointing to the party launcher, then levitated her gyroscope out of it’s container for them all to see, “and since we’re all sharing, this is mine. Now when we’re going into the dream, you need to be focusing on your totem so it will appear in the dream with you. Once we’re there, I’ll show you how to make a totem.”

“How long will we be down there for?” Rarity asked. “Not that I have any intention to cut corners when it comes to helping a dear friend, but I’m on a tight schedule as it is.”

“I’ve planned just a short dream. We’ll only be down there for twenty minutes, but in reality, we’ll only be asleep for sixty seconds.”

“Wait, what?” Applejack inquired, bewildered. “How does that work?”

Twilight geared up for lecture mode. “It has to do with the functions of the spell. See, a correlative function of the spell’s sedation process is that it compresses the neural activity of—”

Rainbow interrupted. “Time moves faster in a dream than it does in reality. Got it.” 

Just then, Spike returned, grunting slightly as he dragged a bucket full of water behind him. “I got everything,” he said as his eyes glossed over the six of them, briefly pausing on Rarity to stare with painful longing.

Rarity let out a small gasp with concern when she saw the bandages still wrapped around his brow. “Spike, whatever happened to your eye?”

Spike blinked several times as he looked away, and mumbled his response. “I fell down the stairs. Don’t worry about it, I’m fine.”

Rarity still kept her eyes on him with a look of regard, but couldn’t push the issue any further before Twilight turned to Spike.

“Dream time is much faster than real time, so as soon as I cast this spell and all of our eyes are closed, wake us up in exactly one minute, and not a second more.” Twilight instructed.

“Got it,” Spike replied in a dull tone. “Ready when you are.”

“Alright,” Twilight noted, and turned to her friends. “Is everypony ready?”

Rainbow, Applejack, Rarity, and Fluttershy all nodded. Pinkie, however, had began to squirm.

“I don’t know, Twilight,” Pinkie said, nervous. “Isn’t there another way? Is it even safe to take me into a dream at all?”

Twilight looked back at Pinkie with warm reassurance. “It should be. I can modify the connection each dreamer has to the matrix, so manipulation will be limited to small things, and we’ll all be less likely to bring in anything from our subconscious.”

Pinkie still had the eyes of a foal who was certain there was a monster under the bed.

Applejack stepped forward. “Don’t you worry yourself sick, sugarcube. You’ve already done enough of that. We came here to help, and that’s what we’re gonna do.”

Pinkie looked back at Twilight. “So no Discord?”

“If all goes as planned, no Discord.”

Pinkie lightened up a little. “Not even the thing-pony?”

Twilight tried to smile through another stab of pain in her sides. “Not even the thing-pony.”

Applejack sighed. “Am I ever going to know what a thing-pony is?”

“Uh, what’s a thing-pony?” Spike asked.

“I’ll tell you later,” Twilight replied.

“Wait,” Rainbow interjected, “Pinkie has seen the thing-pony?!”

“Yes, but before you jump to any conclusions, he doesn’t have anything to do with Pinkie’s problems.” Twilight looked back at Pinkie with the same smile. “Maybe when you’re all better, we can go into one of my dreams and you can throw a party for the thing-pony: see if you can get him to explain what he’s doing in my subconscious.”

Another miniscule smile tugged at the corner of Pinkie’s mouth. Twilight took that as good a cue as any, than lay down on the floor with her legs folding underneath her. The others followed suite, and Twilight ignited her horn. An interconnected aura appeared around the six of them, and sedation quickly began to take effect.

“Déjà vu,” Rarity muttered.

Twilight looked at Pinkie to find the pink mare already looking at her. Pinkie’s face betrayed any feeble attempt to hide her unrest, and her fluttering eyelids were still fighting to stay open. Twilight slid her right hoof out from underneath her, and held it out to Pinkie. She looked down at the invitation, then back up at Twilight, who looked back with compassion. Pinkie reached out and firmly grabbed Twilight’s hoof, and then finally allowed her eyes to close.

Twilight could stay awake no longer herself. She could feel the spell begin to operate automatically as he eyelids shut and submerged her in total darkness, like the curtain call of another play.


- - - - - -


A brisk knock came from the from door of the library. Pinkie and Twilight both turned to look at the door, then Pinkie looked back at Twilight, her eyes filled with the dread of a foal about to get their second shots.

Twilight returned Pinkie’s trepidation with a warm smile. “Your friends have come to help.”

Pinkie was still tense and on high alert, but she gave Twilight a little nod, prompting Twilight to stand up and attend to the guests at the door. Twilight opened the entrance to her home, and was greeted with the sight of Rainbow Dash, with Applejack, Rarity, and Fluttershy right behind her, each with a saddlebag strapped to them.

“‘Sup, Twi?” Rainbow somewhat nonchalantly stated.

“Hello, everypony. Thank you all for coming. Please, come in,” Twilight said as she opened the door wider and moved aside.

The four mares stepped inside the library, and Twilight shut the door behind them.

Rainbow stopped dead in her tracks. “Wait a minute, does this seem familiar to anypony?”

Rarity rolled her eyes with an exacerbated groan. “Was all this really necessary, Twilight?”

Applejack was whipping her head back and forth, scanning the details of the library with wide eyes. “Is this a dream, or was what we just went through a dream?” She gasped. “They weren’t both dreams, were they?!”

Twilight trotted forward and put a calming hoof on Applejack’s shoulder. “Take it easy Applejack. This is the only dream, a repeat of what you just experienced in reality a few minutes ago.”

Applejack’s panic subsided at the news.

Twilight‘s ears dipped back a little. “I should apologize, though. Building a dream exactly from memory is an easy way to lose track of reality, so I’ll refrain from doing that in the future. But now you all see why it’s so important to have a totem, right?”

The five of them nodded.

“Alright, then, we’ve got a lot to do and not much time to do it, so I’ll make this as brief as possible,” Twilight said as she checked her watch. “To make a totem, you need to train your subconscious to have a different perception of your totem with manipulation, but to do that, first you need to understand what manipulation is.

“So, everypony knows that we’re in a dream together, right? Well, our minds all have a connection to the dream right now, my dream to be specific. So if you concentrate properly, then you can change aspects of the dream through that connection.”

“You’re starting to lose me, Twi.” Rainbow interrupted. “How is all this supposed to work?”

“Okay, think of it like reading a book.” Twilight explained. “As you’re reading, you’re visualizing what’s going on. But if you change the words, that alters what you perceive happening in the story. For example: you know in the part of Daring Do and the Quest for the Sapphire Stone when Daring crash lands in the jungle and injures her wing while escaping that terra stomper, right? Well, if somepony rewrote that part so she has to deal with a pack of angry crocodiles, then that changes what you visualize happening.”

“Eh, I think the story is cooler with the terra stomper,” Rainbow said.

“Or, you could write it so she could just politely ask the crocodiles or the terra stomper for help...” Fluttershy added.

Twilight cleared her throat. “Point is, changing the words in the book changes what you infer is happening in the story. Dreamscape works in a similar fashion.”

Twilight lit her horn and levitated the book that she had just been reading from the table to the center of the circle they stood in. “Take this book for example. This book, and everything else, has a dedicated code that programs it here into the dream. So if you change the code...” Twilight closed her eyes and concentrated, then deactivated her magic. A collective gasp came from the four she was lecturing as the book remained floating in mid-air, completely unaffected by gravity.

“You change the dream.”

Rainbow cautiously approached the book and nudged it with a hoof. She jolted back when the book moved, flying in an eerily straight trajectory.

“That’s freaky,” Rainbow commented with a slight shiver.

Twilight took in the awe on their faces with a slight grin, both how they were fascinated by such a relatively infinitesimal use of manipulation, and how enthralled she was by such small tricks when she had first started experimenting with manipulation… Then Pinkie had come along, and flipped everything she knew about building dreams on its head.

She caught sight of Pinkie, and her amusement vanished. Pinkie was staring at the gravity-defying book with a growing sense of dread, and with a look in her eyes that made Twilight instantly realize what she must be thinking: manipulation was exactly how all her troubles started in the first place.

Twilight closed her eyes again. The book fell from its lofty drifting and hit the floor with a thump.

“Anyway, that’s just an example of what you can do,” Twilight said as she levitated the book back over to the six of them. “Now you four try it. Find the book in the dreamscape, then do something simple to it, like insert a picture of a fond memory into its pages.”

“And how exactly are we suppos’ta do that?” Applejack asked. “We ain’t all unicorns, Twi.”

“You don’t have to be. The magic generating the dream is already connected to your subconscious, so all you have to is concentrate on that connection and alter the function of the dream world that way. It’s like a cross between meditating and day-dreaming.”

The four of them closed their eyes and concentrated. Twilight couldn’t help but smile again. The varying degrees of pensiveness they all bore made her feel like she was teaching a class of foals trying to use magic for the first time. Then she thought of how Celestia must feel about her, and her smile deepened.

“Whoa whoa whoa...” Applejack’s eyes snapped open in alarm, as did the others from their broken concentration. “Twi, I… I felt something...”

Twilight leaned forward, her interest captured. “What?”

“I… I dunno...” Applejack remarked with a shudder. “It felt like I ran into the end of the world...”

“Oh, don’t worry about that. The same thing happened to me first time I tried manipulation. Just remember that this is just a dream, and that the real world is still outside.” Twilight said.

Rainbow looked to Twilight. “So if we can just reach out and grab the dream, isn’t that enough of an indication that we’re asleep? Why do we need a totem then?”

Twilight’s throat seized up a little. “Because it’s possible to travel so deep into your subconscious that you can’t feel the connection to the dream anymore. And without a solid tether to reality, staying in a dream for too long can be detrimental, like staying in a cave until the daylight burns your eyes.”

“And how exactly did you learn this information, dear?” Rarity inquired.

Twilight suddenly found herself unable to reply.

Princess Twilight Sparkle rested her weary head against the cold granite of the empty palace, and exhaled a wounded sigh. Two weeks. She’d been trapped here for over two weeks, with no sign of her solitary isolation ever ending. Just thinking about her friends, or even the way she felt around her friends afflicted her with anguish, slowly crushing whatever will she had just to be out through her pores. Finding purpose here was extracting blood from a stone. Even the presence of somepony like Trixie would be a goddess-send at this point, when the only thing to have so much as acknowledged her sad existence in the last sixteen days was a night terror projection of her murderer. Any company was better than that of this plane’s apex predator…

“I’ll tell you later. For right now, focus on getting a picture into this book.”

The four went back to concentrating on manipulating for the first time. Twilight herself started observing novice minds prod arcane codes for the first time, and monitoring the activity to make sure things didn’t get too crazy; the last thing they needed right now was an unwelcome visitation from a chaotic projection.

Another minute or so passed in silence. Fluttershy was the first to break it. “Okay, I think I might have done something.”

“Alright. Has everypony put a memory into the book?” Twilight asked, and was answered with nods of confirmation from all of them. “Okay, then let’s see.”

Twilight flipped through the pages of the book until she came across a page where the words had been replaced with a picture woven directly into the fiber of the page. It showed an outdoor scene that featured swarms of butterflies so numerous that the almost obscured the entire sky, and a very perturbed Rainbow Dash.

“Oh, that one’s mine,” Fluttershy said. “That’s from the last butterfly migration that Rainbow Dash and I got to see. It was oh-so beautiful. I loved it.”

“That makes one of us,” Dash grumbled.

Twilight flipped through more pages in the book, and came across a view of a crowded Sweet Apple Acres with her the the rest of her friends gathered together with smiles on the faces and mugs of cider in their hooves.

“That’s mine,” Applejack stated with admiration. “Last cider season with you girls. I know it’s a ways away, but I’m already lookin’ forward to the next one with y’all.”

More pages turned with Twilight’s magic, eventually revealing a coliseum in the clouds that was packed to the brim with cheering pegasi. In the center of the snapshot was a view of Fluttershy, Pinkie, Applejack, Celestia, and herself. Each wore an expression with varying mixtures of surprise and awe, while Fluttershy exuberantly bounced on her cloud seat.

“Guess who put that one there.” Rainbow Dash smiled, cocksure.

“I wonder,” Rarity muttered with thinly-veiled sarcasm.

Another blur of paper later, and they saw not a memory that had been planted into the book, but an idea.

“Oh, COME ON!” Rainbow incredulously blurted.

”What? Didn’t I tell you how beautiful you’d look if you’d just brush your mane every once in a while?” Rarity argued in her defense.

The picture that Rarity had put into the book was a life-accurate portrayal of Rainbow Dash preemed with all the glamour of a runway model. She wore a layered black dress with hot pink silk ribbons sewn on at the seams. Her hair had been conditioned to an illustrious shine. The red and yellow had combed back over her ears and was curled at the ends, leaving the orange of her mane to form a partial curtain over her mascara-touched eyes, which were half-lidded and sultry.

“See?” Rarity tapped pointedly on the book with her hoof. “Trot down any metropolitan boulevard with this much fabulous feminine vogue at your disposal, and I guarantee you’ll turn the head of every stallion on the street.”

“Wha… are you… guuh...” Rainbow Dash could only gawk before smashing one of her forehooves into her forehead.

Applejack was on the floor, barely able to speak through her laughter. “Y-yeah, Rainbow,” she gasped, “you’d be a real looker.” And then she collapsed into another fit of guffaws.

Fluttershy tried to disappear behind her mane. “I don’t know,” she sheepishly admitted. “Rarity does have a point, Rainbow. The picture does make you look very pretty...”

Another harsh smack cracked through the air as Dash’s other forehoof collided with her face. “Ugh, let’s just get to the picture that Pinkie left in here, okay?” she grumbled.

“I… didn’t leave one,” Pinkie mumbled.

Applejack had managed to stifle most of her laughter. “Why not, sugarcube?”

Pinkie squirmed a little and looked away. “I don’t want to do anything until we have to make our totems… I’m afraid of... him, showing up...”

Twilight frowned. “I hate to break it to you, Pinkie, but that time has come now.”

Pinkie gulped. “Can’t you just make my totem for me?”

Twilight shook her head. “I’m sorry, but it doesn’t work that way. If I made a totem for you, then it wouldn’t be your totem. And even if I just gave you one and told you its tell, since you wouldn’t be the only one who knows what it is or isn’t supposed to do, the tell would be compromised.”

Pinkie’s gaze fell to the floor and her ears folded down. Twilight approached her and put a hoof under her chin, lifting her head up to look into Pinkie’s eyes.

“It’s only a little bit of manipulation,” Twilight reassured her. “And I’ve got additional firewalls set up around the matrices, so we’ll be safe.”

Pinkie looked away. “No...” Pinkie looked back at Twilight with a dreadful grimace, and spoke in a terrified whisper. “I can feel it clawing at me… I can’t hold him back for long...”

Twilight’s expression tightened. She shot a glance back towards her friends on reflex, but realized too late that any sign of worry from her would alert them too, and the situation could get out of hoof very quickly. Catching sight of them told her they had heard Pinkie though, as they were casting nervous glances back and forth at each other.

Twilight was putting effort into staying calm. “It’s okay; we’ll just make our totems, and then we’ll be out of this dream.” She checked her pocket watch. “We’ve got less than fifteen minutes, so we haven’t any time to waste.

“If you’ve got a tell, now is the time to imbue your totem with it. This will be a little more complicated, since you’re not just changing your totem’s function, you’ll be tempering your subconscious as well.” Twilight said to the other four, then looked back at Pinkie. “I won’t be able to make the totem for you, but I can stay with you for the process.”

Pinkie still looked at Twilight with fear. “I’m scared...” she whispered.

“That’s what you got us here for,” Rainbow said. “To stick up for you, even when you can’t stick up for yourself.”

“Everything will be alright, Pinkie.” Twilight smiled and sat down next to her. “In less than fifteen minutes, we’ll all be awake again, and then once we dry off we can do something pleasant, like bake some cookies.”

“Uh, you’re not going to have anything to do with making those cookies, will you?” Rainbow cautiously asked.

Twilight rolled her eyes. “No. I was using the word ‘we’ in an impersonal sense. Look, let’s just make our totems, okay?”

With that, Rainbow, Applejack, Rarity and Fluttershy all took their totems back out again, closed their eyes, and began to concentrate on manipulation. Pinkie took a little longer to calm her nerves, but she too eventually dared to close her eyes and alter her subconscious projection of her totem, leaving Twilight to sit in silence for several minutes as the others worked.

After ten minutes, Rainbow was the first to speak up. “Alright, I think I got it.”

“Okay, good. Has everypony else finished?” Twilight asked. They all nodded in reply.

“Did you finish, Fluttershy?” Twilight inquired.

“I think so,” Fluttershy timidly replied.

“Well then, let’s see it,” Twilight stated.

“Well, okay...” Fluttershy stepped forward, holding out her music box to Twilight, but Rainbow stopped her with an outstretched hoof.

“Hold up Flutters, this is another of Twi’s tricks. We’re not supposed to share information on our totem, remember?”

Twilight expressed a sly, knowing smile. “Good, you’re learning. Feel free to excuse yourself if you want to check your totem in private.”

With that, Applejack trotted into the kitchen, Fluttershy quietly left out the front door, Rarity excused herself into the other room, and Rainbow flew upstairs to the bedroom, leaving Twilight and Pinkie alone in the foyer.

“Can I stay here and check my totem with you?” Pinkie asked Twilight.

“But won’t that spoil its secret?”

“It shouldn’t,” Pinkie replied. “It’s one of those things that only I’d be able to notice, anyway.”

“Well, so long as it doesn’t compromise your totem, and if it makes you more comfortable, sure.” Twilight answered.

Pinkie scooted a little closer to Twilight, brandished her party launcher, switched off the safety, then aimed it up into the air and fired off a shot. The round detonated in mid-air, making Twilight flinch away from the concussive blast and explosion of confetti. When she opened her eyes and looked back at the target sight, she saw the ordinance’s paper payload drifting slowly to the ground.

“So… did it work?” Twilight asked.

“I think so, yeah,” Pinkie slowly replied.

Applejack stuck her head out from the kitchen. “I heard an explosion. Is everything alright?”

“Yeah, everything’s fine; Pinkie was just testing her totem.” Twilight answered. “What about you? Does your totem work?”

“I thought we weren’t suppos’ ta tell you...” Applejack stated while regarding Twilight with suspicious eyes.

“You don’t have to tell me what your totem does, I just need to know that it works.”

“It does, but...” Applejack trailed off.

“What?”

“It don’t feel right, Twi. Like I said, I know the ins and outs of my rope better than some mares know their stallions, so to see it do something that it ain’t suppos’ ta do just doesn’t sit well with me.”

“That’s kind of the point,” Twilight reminded her. “Seeing your totem do something that it can’t do in real life is supposed to remind you that this dream isn’t real.”

“I know but… I dunno. There’s something else about it that I can’t put my hoof on at the moment...”

Applejack was interrupted when Rainbow Dash flew back downstairs. “My totem works. What was that explosion?”

“Pinkie’s totem,” Applejack answered.

“Ah. So does her’s work, too?” Rainbow asked.

“Dunno. Didn’t see it.”

Rainbow turned to Twilight and Pinkie.

“So does it work?”

Twilight looked to Rainbow. “Yeah, apparently...”

A delicate knock came from the front door, followed by Fluttershy saying something that the door muffled too much to be legible.

Rainbow rolled her eyes. “You don’t need to knock, Fluttershy.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Fluttershy apologized as she let herself back inside and shut the door behind her. “My totem has a tell now, Twilight.”

“Good,” Twilight said.

Rarity entered the foyer again. “Well Twilight, you should be pleased to know that my totem works perfectly.”

“It wouldn’t have anything to do with putting me in a dress again, would it?” Rainbow grumbled.

Rarity humphed with indignance. “No! As much as I still think your appearance could greatly benefit from a lady’s touch, I’ll have you know I chose something far more profound for my totem… and by the way, was that an explosion I heard?”

“Yep.” Twilight, Applejack, and Rainbow answered in unison.

“What caused—”

“Pinkie’s totem,” the three answered.

“So… does that mean it works?”

“Apparently...”

Twilight got back on her hooves after her last synchronized reply. “Now that you all have a way of telling reality from a dream, the next time, we can start—”

Pinkie interrupted Twilight with an urgent prod of her hoof. “Twilight… Twilight, how much longer until we wake up?”

Twilight glanced back at her watch. “About three minutes. Why?”

Pinkie started shaking her head. “I… I can’t...”

Twilight took a concerned step towards Pinkie. “Can’t what?”

Rainbow sniffed the air. “Hey, does anypony else smell that?”

“Smell what?” Applejack asked, then backed away from Dash with an accusatory glare. “You didn’t rip one, did ya?”

“No!” Rainbow shot back. “If I did, I’d wait for you to pick it up so I could blame it on you with the ‘smelt it, dealt it’ clause. Besides, it doesn’t smell like cut cheese...”

Pinkie had started to thrash her head back and forth. “I can’t… I can’t...”

Fluttershy perked up, suddenly more alert. “Wait; Rainbow, I think I smell something, too.”

“See?” Rainbow proclaimed, pointing to Fluttershy to support her statement. “What does that smell like to you? ‘Cause it smells sugary to me… kind of like...”

The aroma hit Twilight’s nostrils, and she gasped. “Cotton candy...”

Pinkie began to tremble, pleading desperately. “Twilight, wake me up...”

The distant boom of a thunderclap made the treehouse rumble. The silence that followed it was quickly dissipated by the sound of raindrops falling upon the tree.

“Wake me up...”

Rarity let out a horrified scream. Twilight looked up and saw the rain hitting one of the windows. It was a light brown, just like chocolate.

Pinkie tried to hold herself in a vain attempt to find comfort. Her breathing was becoming more erratic; quick, frantic gasps interrupted by frightened sniffles. 

“Twilight, wake me up! Please, wake me up!”

An unnatural darkness beset the main room as the tree creaked in the gusting wind with the sound of tinny, devious laughter. Fluttershy let out an alarmed squeak when a periwinkle earth pony with a spinner hat and spiralling eyes smashed her face flat against a nearby window, then began looking them over with wild, demented eyes. Her wide-open mouth allowed her three tongues to press up against the glass, streaking the pane with saliva as her head jerked back and forth between the six of them. The book that four of them had illustrated fond memories and ideas in whipped open of its own accord. Sheets started ripping themselves out and flew away, squawking like inkwells, until the only page left in the book revealed Applejack, Rainbow, Rarity and Fluttershy standing on a checkered blue hill under a pink sky, glaring at each over with faces completely drained of color.

Pinkie dove forward and latched onto Twilight’s forelegs with a death-grip. She looked up at Twilight with terror-stricken agony. Streams of tears poured down her face.

“Wake me up! Please wake me up! PLEASE!”

Applejack galloped over to Twilight, panicking herself. “Twi, we need to get outta here! Now!”

A ubiquitous, dark chuckle filled the empty space of the library with such power that each mare present could feel it vibrate within their chests, masking them all gasp.

“Why? It seems like you’ve only just arrived...”

“DISCORD!” Rainbow snarled and took to the air, muscles tense and wings beating furiously. “You leave my friend alone! Show yourself! I’m going to beat all of the ugly off of your face!”

The library vibrated with a sarcastic sigh. “You can’t have it both ways, Rainbow. I can’t very well leave your sad little friend alone if you also want me to make an appearance, can I?”

“You can if you show up so I can crush you into a pulp and then toss you out like trash!” Rainbow yelled back. “Now quit hiding, you coward!”

Another perverse chortle resonated within the library until it felt like it was originating from their skulls. “Hiding? Why, my dear, I’m in plain sight...” The source that the disembodied voice was originating from began to shift, until to was coming from the exact spot where Pinkie lay in a trembling ball of fear. “For everypony to see and scrutinize.”

Pinkie’s shadow began to darken until it looked to have been ripped from the night sky. Then it elongated itself as it crawled across the floor, changing its shape to a more definitive form that most certainly was not Pinkie’s. The mortified pony screamed and scrambled away from it, colliding with the wall behind her, pressing her back flat against it. Her rear hooves dug into the ground, as if she might be able to ascend the wall and sever her connection to her own shadow.

Pinkie’s animate shadow reached the wall opposite her, then crept up the vertical ascension, forming into the all-too-familiar silhouette of Discord.

“Well hello, little ponies. It really has been too long...”

Rainbow bolted towards the shadow on the wall, shrieking out a furious war cry as she twisted in air to deliver an enraged flying kick with her rear hooves. The shadow merely shifted over to the side, leaving Rainbow to smash into the wall. The wood cracked with a chorus of violent snaps.

“Well that wasn’t very nice,” the projection chided. “What did that wall ever do to you?”

“Shut up!” Dash roared, then attempted to pummel the shadow again, only for the shadow to again effortlessly dodge the attack. “Quit playing your stupid games and face me like you’ve got a spine!”

“Certainly. Just have Twilight disable the safeguards she’s implemented to keep me from fully manifesting, and I’ll gladly corrupt your virtues face-to-face.”

Twilight stepped forward. “Rainbow, stop it! You’re just encouraging him! Besides, it’s not actually the real Discord… isn’t that right, projection?”

The projection of Discord pinched its forehead and sighed, disgruntled. “Seriously, is the first step to becoming Celestia’s favorite contemporary pet getting a stick shoved up your rear end? You really need to lighten up...”

“I’ll do that at Pinkie’s upcoming ‘freed of a tormenting projection’ party,” Twilight shot back.

“I’ve got a better idea. How about you disable the dream’s security codes and we’ll have a party right now? If I’m nothing but a projection from your friend—” Discord motioned to Pinkie, who was somewhere in between hyperventilating and sobbing “—then it ought to be just as good as one of hers.”

Twilight’s reply was partially muffled by the roar of a fast approaching tsunami. “In time. We’ll bring the end of you eventually.”

Discord chuckled. “I can hardly wait to see you try. You know how much I love play time.”

A monstrous tidal wave crashed into the treehouse, devouring it within ravenous froth, and then the dream was no more.


- - - - - -


Twilight sputtered as she came to, wiping the water from her face. She shook her head, and before her ears had even been cleared of the water within them, they were filled with the terrible shrieks of Pinkie’s wails. In a flash, Pinkie trapped Twilight in another crushing hug, and the unicorn cried out in pain as burning skewers cut into her.

“AH! Sides! SIDES!” Twilight desperately cried out. “PINKIE! MY SIDES!”

Pinkie let go and flung herself away from Twilight, allowing herself to collapse onto the cold floor, where she buried her face behind her hooves and hid her hooves behind her mane, and continued to weep.

Twilight stumbled over to the center table and caught herself on the edge. Her eyes were clenched tightly shut and she winced, groaning in pain. A gentle prod alerted her to somepony’s presence. She managed to crack open one of her eyes and was greeted with a sight of Spike, offering her a towel.

“I take it everything didn’t go as planned...” he stated. The shreds of genuine empathy in his voice did little to lighten his depressed tone.

Twilight accepted the offered towel and winced again, sucking in air through her teeth as the movement stabbed her again with pain.

“Not really...” she grimaced, then dried her face and turned to the rest of her friends. “I know this is important, but I really need some pain-killers now. Could you girls stay with her for a moment?”

“Oh dear. Are you still suffering from the same pain?” Fluttershy asked.

“Unfortunately,” Twilight whined. “I’ll only be gone a minute. Just… watch over her, would you please?”

“You don’t even need to ask,” Rainbow answered, her voice growing thick and strained.

Twilight took that as good a dismissal as any. She turned around and took off. She couldn’t have galloped up the stairs fast enough. The echo of the bathroom door being kicked open and desperately slammed shut carried through the entire library. When it passed, it left Spike and four mares in stillness, their shared silence broken only by Pinkie’s crying, who struggled to choke out her words between sobs

“I’m sorry… I… please, I’m so sorry… I-I tried, but I… couldn’t stop it… Oh Celestia, girls, I’m so sorry!” Pinkie wailed with another wave of tears as she buried her face in shame.

Applejack slowly walked over to Pinkie and put a hoof around her shoulder. “Wasn’t your fault, Pinkie.”

“Yeah,” Dash inserted. Her voice was dry with a slight quiver, but it was nearly boiling with righteous fury. “It wasn’t your fault. It’s his.”

Rainbow grimaced, and trust herself into the air with an angry flap of her wings.

“That ugly jerk! How dare he get to one of my friends like that! I swear, when Twilight’s got her plan together, I’m gonna… I’m… I don’t even know what I’m gonna do to Discord, but it’s not gonna be pretty!”

“It’s not Discord...” Pinkie muttered.

“Huh?” Rainbow’s vow for vendetta cooled and she landed next to Pinkie.

“That wasn’t the real Discord; it’s not even part of him,” Pinkie miserably explained. “What you saw was just my projection of him. Everything he said… everything he did… it’s my subconscious...” Her voice cracked again. “My mind… my fault… it’s all my fault!”

“No, it isn’t.” Applejack said.

“Yes it is!” Pinkie miserably shot back.

“No Pinkie, it isn’t.” Applejack firmly repeated, then sat down next to Pinkie. “You said it yourself: if you could’a stopped it, you would have. You ain’t a bad pony, Pinkie, so don’t treat yourself like one.“

Rainbow nodded in agreement. “Yeah. Bad ponies don’t have friends, and I don’t know anypony else with as many or as awesome friends as you’ve got. Friends keep each other straight, and friends help you when you need it.” Rainbow smiled and sat down herself. “We’re here for you, Pinkie, and we always will be.”

Pinkie looked to be regarding her friends’ words with a grain of bitter salt, but most of her crying had subsided, and her face was no longer concealed behind her forelegs.

Standing just a few paces away, but otherwise completely forgotten, was Spike. Every terrible thing he was feeling inside began to squirm until he could feel it writhing under his scales. The more sincere compassion and pity that he saw being poured out before him, the drier his throat became, until it felt like the tissue in his esophagus was going to crack. A little voice in the back of his mind had been telling him to leave and go check on Twilight ever since she had left: that what he would have to see otherwise was the exact spectacle he’d hoped to avoid by secluding himself to the balcony yesterday. Now, even as his own conscious was yelling in his ear, he could not depart or look away. The heart-to-heart Pinkie and her friends were sharing had hardened his own heart until it cracked into separate pieces and fell from his chest cavity to his heels, making his feet too heavy to even lift.

Fluttershy stepped forward. Her soft eyes were moistened from her own tears of sorrow and sympathy. She lay down next to Pinkie, and wrapped her forelegs around Pinkie’s neck.

“Oh, Pinkie… I’m so sorry… it hurts me so much to see you suffer like this,” Fluttershy sniffled. “I knew it was bad when you told us, but... I never realized just how terrible you must feel, having to carry that around with you...”

Pinkie looked away. “You have no idea...” she told the floorboards.

None of them heard the scraping of metal as Spike’s claws dug into the bucket.

Rarity looked down upon Pinkie with eyes full of sympathy. “Pinkie… oh, darling, why didn’t you inform us of your plight sooner? We would have rushed to your aid in a heartbeat if only we had known… Don’t you know you may always ask your friends for help?”

A harsh clang jolted the five mares out of their supportive circle. Their eyes and ears instinctively swivelled towards the direction of the disruptive clatter to behold a steel pail rolling across the floor after having been thrown. They automatically looked in the opposite direction of the bucket’s trajectory and saw Spike hurriedly stomping towards the front door. His tiny claws grabbed the handle, and ripped the door open. Without even looking back, he slammed the door shut behind him, leaving five mares to stare in a stunned silence.

The ponies could hardly do more than keep ogling the front door. A few eventually broke their gaze to look upon one another, hoping somepony might have an answer written on their face, but found only mirrors of their own bewilderment.

“What’s his problem?” Rainbow asked with genuine confusion.

The only thing to answer was the silence.


- - - - - -


Twilight could not have galloped into the bathroom fast enough. Just standing around hurt in of itself, and every step in her desperate gallop had been a lash from a barbed whip. When she did arrive, she kicked open the door, leaped over the threshold, bucked the door shut, then lurched for the medicine cabinet. She nearly ripped the cabinet door off its hinges with her magic, pried the top off the bottle of ibuprofen with such force that the cap hit the ceiling and left a small dent, then dumped an indefinite amount of pills into her mouth and hard-swallowed them all in one gulp.

Twilight closed her eyes and propped herself up in front of the mirror with her forehooves, then started reciting her own pleasant little lie.

“I have wings… I have wings...”

Mana began to accumulate within her horn. She concentrated on the spell she had been reading about just before her friends had arrived. A soft glow surrounded her sides, then a bright flash signified the spell’s completion.

“I have wings,” Twilight repeated as she dared open her eyes again, then attempted to send a neural command to her sides.

She couldn’t help but give out a little gasp when she caught her first glimpses of a sight that was both unnatural and all too welcome for her: the mirror now reflected her lie.

“I have wings...” she whispered in awe.

Twilight looked back to better inspect the results of her modified illusion spell. They looked just as good as the ones she’d left back in limbo. Muscles flexed and compressed with every move of her additional limbs, and the transition from fur to feathers was utterly seamless.

Out of curiosity, she brushed a hoof across the tip of an index feather, and watched it pass right through. Alarm bells started to ring in her mind, saying that she should have felt something and the point of contact. She quickly turned her attention to the other wing and watched how it moved when she prompted it, and marveled that even though she knew it was just a clever, temporary manipulation of photons, it almost felt like she actually had wings.

“Impressive,” a voice interrupted Twilight’s musings, “but remember what I said about only treating the symptom and not solving the problem?”

Twilight sighed. “I never tried to say that this was anything else, but it’s the best I’ve got for now, Reason.”

Reason hummed with contemplation. “I know, but think about what you’re doing for a moment. Your subconscious believes a lie, and your temporary remedy is to supplement that lie. Don’t wait so long to fix this that your conscious starts wanting to believing the lie, too.”

“I won’t,” Twilight said as she turned away from the mirror, so Reason’s words resonated like her own thoughts.

So how long is it going to be until you fix the problem? Reason asked.

“When I’m done helping Pinkie and Spike.”

And how long is that going to take?

“I don’t know. But they’re my friends. I can’t rush or half-heart anything I do for them,” Twilight said as she deactivated the illusion spell, then sighed. “It’s going to be strenuous for the next few days, what with using all this mana to help train my friends to treat Pinkie, using this illusion spell on myself, and making sure I have enough by the end of the day to try and help Spike in his dreams, too.”

So you intend to sneak into his mind tonight again, too?

“Yes,” Twilight answered. “Whatever his situation is, it’s worse than either of us feared, and I need to get to the bottom of it.”

Alright, just don’t push yourself too hard.

“I can take it. I’ve got you here to help me, and like I said, they’re my friends. Their problems are more important than mine.”

Admirable, but don’t wait so long to fix your own problems that you end up needing an intervention, too.

Had Reason a body of her own, she would have had to force down a sad, quirky little smirk. She kept her next thought to herself.

Said the dissociative identity who was created specifically to keep her parent psyche from going insane.


- - - - - -


The night had a noticeable stillness to it. The flickering light of the candles only highlighted how motionless everything else was in the Golden Oaks Library. In this silent placidity, the soft sounds of Spike cleaning the dishes were unnaturally loud to him. Every little clink and swish grated on his ears and chipped away at his temper, until he wanted to do nothing more than smash every single plate to dust, screaming in rage all the while.

Instead, he dried off the last plate and placed it in the cupboard with an unnaturally forced calm. The final smack of wood on wood as the cupboard door closed was greeted with ringing silence.

Spike knew there were still other things that needed to be done: the shelves needed to be dusted, the returned books put back in their proper places, and the floors swept and mopped. But not tonight. With the dishes done, a lethargy had entered Spike’s mind and made itself comfortable in its favorite sofa.

As he exited the kitchen and turned to trudge up the stairs, he happened to glance across the library to the spare room door. A small part of him wondered if he should check on Pinkie, but it was quickly silenced. Why let somepony cry on your shoulder when you can’t cry on anyone else’s? he thought. Then he continued his slow trudge up the stairs.

As he shuffled his way into the bedroom, he had to fight to keep his stormy mood in check. Twilight and Owloysius were sound asleep, without a care in the world. Both of them had gone straight upstairs almost immediately after dinner, and while they had seemed legitimately tired, it still annoyed Spike that they had done so. Sure, Twilight had been under a lot of stress, but Owloysius still had an obligation to help him out with his nightly duties. Couldn’t he have stayed up a little bit longer?

However, whilst Owloysius was comfortably snoozing on his perch, Twilight was sprawled across her desk, surrounded by papers and scrolls. Her face was mashed against the scroll she had been writing on, the words ending with a long, messy streak across the parchment, her quill resting haphazardly atop a small pile of paper on the floor. Her jaw hung wide open over the edge of the desk, and her heavy breathing combined with her slack tongue was making small noises in her throat.

So comical was her appearance that despite himself Spike couldn’t help but feel his spirits lift for a moment. Walking over to her bed, he pulled off the pillow and a couple of blankets, then brought them back to her desk. Lovingly, he readjusted her head and closed her mouth, wiping a small amount of drool off of the desk before placing the pillow under her head. Then he wrapped the blankets around her and stood back to admire his handiwork.

She looked much more at peace, like an innocent filly instead of an overworked mare. For a second, Spike actually felt warm feelings, as though absolutely nothing was wrong. Then the second was gone, and the warm feelings with it. The fact that he could apparently only have these moments while his best friend was asleep was a clear indicator to him of just how messed up things had become.

He wanted to turn away from the sight of his sleeping friend, but he couldn’t. A sudden, overwhelming urge to wake her up and tell her everything was taking hold in his heart. He knew she could help him. He knew she could make things better; it was one of her talents.

He also knew that she would pay the ultimate price for it, and in a sick, twisted way it would be her blood on his claws. Perhaps literally. He couldn’t bear the thought of it, but neither could he bear this terrible burden any longer. He had to do something. Say something, even if no one was listening.

He slowly approached Twilight’s desk, taking in her appearance. She looked so serene. So peaceful. So oblivious. He opened his mouth to speak, but suddenly found his throat was too thick to get the words out. So accustomed had he become to living with this secret that he suddenly found he was reluctant to part with it. What if she woke up in the middle of a confession she wasn’t supposed to hear?

His internal war raged on, his terrible truths building up inside his chest until it felt like it would burst, and still his throat refused to let them out. Finally the terrible battle reached a howling crescendo, and something gave inside him. If he couldn’t even tell someone who wasn’t listening, then what good was he?

“Twilight…” he said quietly. For a long pause, only the silence remained attentive. 

“Twilight…” he began again, “I… I have something I need to tell you… Something I should have told you a long time ago…” He paused, looking for the words.

“There’s… another me. A bad me. I’ve been fighting him for so long now… I thought he was gone, but… He’s back… and he’s worse… and… and…” Spike suddenly found that he couldn’t muster the strength to stand anymore. He crumpled to the floor, overcome with grief, slumping his back against the desk for support.   

“I’m tired, Twilight,” he said after a long minute. “I tried and I tried to control him, but he only got stronger. And now somehow he’s become his own… I don’t even know what… and he’s stealing… and he’s hurting…” Tears welled up in his eyes. “And he s-said… if I asked for your help… he… h-he would…”

He couldn’t say it. It was too much. Spike curled into a ball as he grabbed his legs and pressed his head into his knees. In the all-encompassing stillness of the library, his subdued sobs sounded unnaturally loud.

It was a while before he settled down enough to stand back up again. When he did, Twilight looked as calm and peaceful as ever. He noticed his marble sitting placidly on the edge of the desk, and half-heartedly wondered why he hadn’t noticed it before. Picking it up from the desk, he stared with sullen disinterest at the way the light played across its surface before palming it and shuffling sadly towards the open balcony.

The cool night air did nothing to raise his spirits. Neither did the tranquil view of Ponyville, or the crescent moon against the backdrop of stars, or the sudden tackle from behind.

A heavy foot pressed down on his back and pinned him to the floor. Immediately Spike began to plead and beg with his attacker.

“Wait, please! PLEASE I didn’t tell her! I didn’t tell her she was asleep she didn’t hear a word please don’t do anything I swear to Celestia please don’t kill her! Please…”

Even as he begged he knew it was too late and he began to sob again. He knew Avarice would walk into that room and murder his best friend in her sleep, and that he would be forced to watch. He felt Avarice’s cruel claw pry open his fist and take the marble within it. He felt a torrid breath against the side of his face as an axe-shaped muzzle moved next to his ear, and he knew Avarice was going to tell him that he was going to suffer. He felt the marble press into the side of his bandaged head, and heard the hated voice say something quietly.

“Tag. You’re it.”

And then the weight vanished from his back in an instant. Spike whipped up his head in Twilight’s direction, certain that he would see Avarice standing over her, readying the killing blow, but he only saw her. Wheeling back around towards the railing, he saw Avarice gliding away like a bat out of Tartarus towards the shadowy buildings of Ponyville.

In an instant, something swelled and burst within Spike’s brain, flooding his body with rage. The next thing he knew, he was running across the field of grass in pursuit, murderous intentions all that he could think about. He didn’t even know how he’d gotten there so fast. If he’d run down the stairs and out the back door, climbed down the branches, or simply jumped off of the balcony, he didn’t know; his memory was all a blur. It didn’t matter. He was here, he was angry, and Avarice was going to pay.

As he pelted into the streets he saw the flick of a scaled tail vanish in a blackened alleyway, and pumped his legs even faster. Some detached part of his mind noted that he’d never moved this fast in his life, but he was fine with that. The sooner he could kill Avarice, the better. The same detached part then noted that this was also the first time he legitimately felt like murdering anything.

Spike rounded the corner and saw his target. Then everything went red. Not caring that Avarice was three times his size, or had wickedly sharp claws, or a killer instinct, or a complete inability to feel empathy or remorse, Spike sprinted down the alley and launched himself straight at the back of Avarice’s head with a roar of pure, undiluted rage.

The impact was actually hard enough to cause Avarice to stumble, lurch, and crash into a wall. Spike bit and tore and scratched, thinking of nothing but destroying. Then he felt his arm catch in a grip of iron. The world tuned into a vertigo-inducing blur, then lights exploded in his vision as the back of his head was slammed against something very hard. 

His sight cleared to see himself pinned against the wall above the ground by one of Avarice’s long arms, his hand around Spike’s throat. Avarice himself looked more than ready to kill. Spike continued to bite and tear at whatever he could reach, determined to at least make the bastard bleed before Avarice killed him.

But Avarice did not destroy him. Instead, as Spike bit and clawed half out of anger and half out of desperation, his expression changed slowly from murderous to merely angry, then to amused, then to triumphant vindication.

“Yes, that’s it!” Avarice said as he leaned in. “Use your aggressive nature! Use your hatred! Use it and become the dragon you’re supposed to be!”

Spike couldn’t tell whether or not Avarice was mocking him, but it was more because he didn’t want to do what Avarice was telling him to do that Spike managed to calm his fury and stop fighting like a cat trying to claw it’s way out of a pillow case. He looked up, breathing heavily, to see Avarice had assumed his usual infuriating swagger, then gave a yelp of surprise as he was suddenly released to fall onto the dirty pavestones. Avarice bent over him as he hauled himself off of his hands and knees.

“So, I see you wanted to come along after all.”

“What? Are you even-” Spike stammered. “I was trying to—”

“Trying to kill me?” Avarice finished for him. “Admirable, but pointless. So since you failed to beat me, you might as well join me. Now then… have you wondered what sorts of things Roseluck considers valuable?”

Spike couldn’t bear being around him anymore. Not even bothering to reply, he just turned around with a frustrated humph and began stomping back towards the library.

“Fine, have it your way,” said Avarice as Spike rounded the corner again. “Go back to trying to fill that hole in your heart with empty friendships! Go back to being a maredrake!”


- - - - - -


Thick, soothing darkness ensconced Twilight. Her thoughts were idle and her senses were numb, making the dense emptiness feel like a part of her.

More neurons started firing within her brain. Her cognition began recovering from its torpid pace like oppressive weights had been removed from it. She started becoming more aware of her own body, and that there was a particularly bad ache originating from her spine along with the bothersome sensations of the flesh in her sides being seared.

Twilight tried to open her eyes; it felt like trying to strip the bark from a redwood tree. Her tongue rolled in her dry mouth and she felt it stick to the dehydrated surfaces of her palate and gums. She tried lifting a heavy hoof to her eyes to rub the lingering crust from them and almost smacked herself. Her movements were uncoordinated and clumsy, like she was recovering from inebriation.

With her cognition returning from slumber, thoughts began to gnaw at her. The last thing she could remember was writing another data entry, then darkness. When she finally cracked open her eyes and her blurry, unfocused vision cleared, she found that half of it was obscured by her pillow.

Unease swiftly came upon her. The view of her bedroom looked different than she remembered from all the times she woke up in her bed. In fact, now that she thought about it, she didn’t even remember going to bed last night.

With still disoriented motor function, Twilight tried to lift herself up from her pillow, only to find that she didn’t have to move very far until she was already sitting upright. She felt her blanket begin to slip off her back. With mounting concern, she pushed aside her pillow to reveal the desk below, the parchment she had been writing upon still in its place. Her head whipped towards the window so quickly that it made her dizzy, but the clear blue sky of another beautiful summer sunrise was still unmistakable.

Twilight’s confused anxiousness was swept aside for crushing disappointment.

I fell asleep… Instead of helping Spike, I fell asleep.

Twilight hung her head in shame, wallowing in feelings of bitterness towards herself, knowing she deserved every ounce of it, especially considering her friends had told her about how Spike had stomped out on them yesterday, extremely upset about something, but they didn’t know over what. She didn’t tell them, but she knew it must have had something to do with his internal struggles, making it all the more imperative she enter his dreams that night to either learn about the dissociative identity he was desperately trying to keep suppressed, or offer help to him in the dream. Maybe even try and convince him to let her and her friends help him in real life if he believed that she was some subconscious manifestation of his own conscience.

But instead, she’d fallen asleep when she knew how much Spike needed help, even if he wouldn’t admit it. Even worse, she knew Spike must have been the one to have found her passed out upon her desk, and then he had his best to make her comfortable. Typical Spike, always helping other ponies with their problems even as he suffered through his own. And she had shown her gratitude of his consideration by failing to help him when she knew he needed it.

It had been a long time since she had woken up feeling this rotten about herself.

Reason? she mentally prodded. Are you up?

A groggy moan came from within her mind as Reason mumbled back a reply.

Ugh… five more minutes…

Twilight let out a displeased sigh, then looked over the room for Spike. She caught sight of his bed, with its pillow all nice and fluffed, blankets pulled tight and tucked neatly under the padding.

Twilight was instantly alert. Not only was Spike not in his bed this early in the morning, but his bed was made. Spike never made his bed, not until she had to tell him to.

“Spike?” she instinctively called. No reply came.

“Spike?” She called his name again as she lurched away from her desk, stumbling over her own hooves in the process. She stumbled over to his bed and felt the sheets. They were room temperature. A chill ran down her spine.

Twilight galloped over to her bedroom door and plowed through it, having regained much of her automation from the surge of adrenaline. Her eyes swept over the front room, then darted to the open door of the bathroom, neither revealing her friend.

She flew like wind down the stairs and barreled into the kitchen. Only then did she left out a little sigh of relief when she saw Spike, standing on a stool by the counter and mixing around something in a bowl with a wooden spoon.

“There you are,” Twilight said, relaxing. “What are you doing up so early?”

“Head’s back with the eleventh candlestick…” was Spike’s slurred response.

Twilight tilted her head to the side. “What?”

“No, it’s fine. The trash can litter box is stuck...”

“Uh… what?” Twilight took a concerned but cautious step forward.

“I wanna ride a meat bicycle with a diamond pony...”

“Spike? Are you okay?” Twilight gently prodded his shoulder with a hoof.

Spike lurched around and let out a scream of surprise, starling Twilight. “I didn’t say anything!” he blurted.

Spike’s movements were just as disoriented as Twilight’s had been. His dilated eyes were so bloodshot that they had more red to them than white, and had circles underneath that were so dark it looked like he’d been physically beaten.

The little dragon shook his head, and his eyelids stopped fluttering long enough to get a good look at the pony addressing him. “Oh,” he muttered. His chest slowing it’s heaving and his overcast tone returned. “It’s just you, Twi...” Then he turned around and resumed his task.

Twilight walked around to Spike’s side to get a better view of his face. “Spike, did you get any sleep last night?”

Spike snorted. “Nope. I jus’ lay ‘wake in bed pretty much the whole night.”

Twilight craned her neck back. “All night? How? Why?”

“Yep; all night. Dunno how, dunno why. S’ figured I’d jus’ up ‘n make break-fist ‘fore you asked, ‘cause I knew ya would.” Spike slurred back without ever taking his bloodshot eyes away from the bowl.

“That’s… really nice of you, but you really need your sleep, Spike,” Twilight said as she approached him and looked into the contents of the basin. “What are you even trying to make?”

“Waffles...” Spike proclaimed, lifting his head. The sudden movement almost made him lose his balance. “Least ah think it’s supposta be… can’t get th’ mix right...”

Twilight looked at Spike with one eye squinted and the other eyebrow cocked. “Uh, Spike, I know I can’t cook for the life of me, but doesn’t a waffle recipe call for, you know, eggs and milk, or something?”

Spike threw a puzzled look towards Twilight, then looked back at the bowl and lifted a spoonful of the contents out for inspection. He titled the spoon to let the contents fall back into the bowl, watching as nothing but dry flour poured down.

“I was wonderin’ why it wasn’t gettin’ thick...” he mumbled.

Twilight put a hoof around Spike’s shoulder and leaned in closer to him. “I appreciate that you want to help, but a whole night without sleep isn’t healthy for you, Spike. Why don’t you go back upstairs to bed, and I’ll bring you some warm milk and tuck you in?”

Spike’s face fell and his shoulders dropped.“That won’t help.”

“Why not? You won’t know until you try.”

“I did,” Spike asserted. “Went through almost half a gallon las’ night. Even took some of Pinkie’s sleepin’ pills. Nothin’.”

“Spike, you’re not supposed to use those unless you ask! Those could be dangerous if you took too many!”

“Sorry,” Spike half-heartedly replied. “Still, didn’t do nothin’.”

“But you can’t go running around all day if you haven’t slept a wink all night. What if I just used the sedation portion of Dreamscape to help you fall asleep?” Twilight suggested.

“No thanks,” Spike replied, his voice suddenly more clear. “I’m more hungry than tried, anyway.”

“You’re still just a baby dragon, Spike. You need your sleep,” Twilight insisted.

“If I needed it so much, I’d have slept last night and we wouldn’t be havin’ this conversation.” A little bit of the tired slur worked its way back into his voice. “‘Sides, I’ve got stuff I need to do that I didn’t finish last night.”

“Spike—”

“I’ll try ta take a nap after I finish my chores, ‘kay?”

Twilight held her breath for a moment, then let it out. “Okay,” she reluctantly agreed. She pulled Spike a little closer and gave him a quick kiss on his forehead, then looked at him for his response. He had none, at least nothing that he externally showed. So she turned around and walked out the kitchen door. On the other side of the threshold, she let out a sigh.

So much for making up for last night, Reason said.

“I know, Reason,” Twilight replied outloud.

Do you think his insomnia might be related to his disorder, or his depression?

“Can’t know for certain without knowing more, can we? And we could always ask Spike to try and learn more about what he’s going through, but guess what he’s not in the mood to do?” Twilight muttered.

Twilight heard a creak of a door opening from her right. She looked up to see Pinkie looking at her from behind the door with a very worried expression on her face.

The first thing that ran through Twilight’s head was, Uh-oh…

Do you think she heard us? Reason asked.

There’s one way to find out, Twilight thought, then cleared her throat to address Pinkie.

“Oh, good morning Pinkie. Is everything alright?”

Pinkie withdrew slightly more into the shadowy room. “Um, Twilight, may I talk to you? In private?” she meekly inquired.

“Oh… of course,” Twilight replied, trotting towards the door.

Pinkie stepped back, opening the door to her room wide enough for Twilight to enter. The unicorn walked into a much darker room, and couldn’t help but feel somewhat unnerved. Even considering it was part of her own home, she was surprised by just how much colder it felt from Pinkie’s presence alone.

Pinkie closed the door behind Twilight, then slowly walked over to the couch that she had been using as her bed, set aside the sheets, then sat down, hanging her head like a noose at the gallows.

“So what’s going on?” Twilight asked.

Pinkie gulped, then replied in a quiet, troubled voice. “I had another nightmare...”

Twilight forgot her own personal concerns in an instant. “Oh… oh Pinkie, I’m sorry...” She made her way over to the couch and pulled Pinkie into a comforting hug. “The sedatives didn’t help at all?”

“Not tonight, they didn’t,” Pinkie muttered.

Twilight held Pinkie for several minutes before she dared to ask anything. “Do you want to talk about it? It, um… Your nightmare didn’t have anything to do with, uh… cupcakes, did it?”

Pinkie was silent for a moment. Finally, she mumbled, “No...”

“Well, that’s g—”

“I just dissolved the bodies in acid instead.”

“Oh… that’s… oh Pinkie, I’m sorry,” Twilight pulled her friend in closer and began running her hoof over Pinkie’s flat mane. Pinkie pulled her knees to her chest and nestled into Twilight’s shoulder.

“I grew up in a world where I never saw that first rainbow,” Pinkie somberly explained. “My parents were extremely mean, my baby sister died when she was just a foal, and I didn’t even get the same cutie mark. I got pickaxes instead of balloons. I never had you or any of the girls for my friends, or anypony that so much as loved me. I never ever smiled, not for years, because I was f-forced to… to k-kill bad ponies by this evil voice in my head...”

Twilight’s hoof froze in mid-stroke. The muscles in her jaw clenched and her pupils shrank. She gulped, and had to carefully deliver her next question to keep the onset of shaking in her voice as inconspicuous as possible.

“Pinkie… in all of your other nightmares, something about them carried over to have a negative effect on you when you woke up. So, dare I ask, that didn’t follow you back, did it?”

“No, but… but what if it does?” Pinkie looked up at Twilight with quivering eyes. “W-what if one day I wake up with some evil voice that won’t go away telling me to hurt somepony, or you, or my friends?”

“Then you’ll have your friends to make it go away,” Twilight answered, and gave Pinkie a little squeeze. “Speaking of which, the girls are coming over later today. I’m going to train them how to build a dream, so we’ll be that much closer to getting that subconscious anomaly out of your head.”

Pinkie looked away. “Yeah, about that… I’m sorry Twilight, but I don’t feel comfortable going into the dreams anymore. What if he shows up again and starts teasing me about my feelings for Dashie?”

“It’s okay Pinkie, I understand. Besides, maybe it’s better if you don’t, since we’ll be discussing what we can do to help you, and there’s a possibility that whatever is in your subconscious might adapt and resist if it knows what we’ll have in store.” Twilight allowed a little time to pass before she asked her next question. “So, are you still struggling with your feelings about Rainbow Dash?”

Pinkie looked away and began fiddling with her hooves again. “Yes. I haven’t done anything since, you know, then, but… Dashie is very special to me, and I do love her as a friend, but then I think, what if that kind of love is actually the other kind of love, and is it right for me to think that way? Is it even right for me to feel this way? I love being with Dashie and I love making her happy, but when I think about really being with her, it feels so right and so… so icky at the same time!

“But I don’t even know if I’m thinking that because I actually care about her, or if I’m sick in the head! And when you girls fix what’s wrong with me, will I still feel the same way? Will those feelings go away when I’m better, or will I still want Dashie and me to be each other’s special somepony? And if it’s not right for me to feel that way and my feelings are only because of what’s in my head, if I still feel that way after you try to help me, does that mean I’m still all screwed up? Am I too far gone to be helped? Am I—”

“Shh, easy Pinkie,” Twilight interrupted before Pinkie’s anxiety could deteriorate into hysteria any further. “Tell you what: if you’re worried how the anomaly is effecting your feelings, why don’t we wait until the anomaly is taken care of to sort out your emotions, okay?”

“Okay...” Pinkie sniffled. “If you can take care of it...”

“We will, Pinkie. ‘Faith in your friends,’ remember?”

Another oppressed smile fought to bring some light back onto Pinkie’s face. “I remember. Thanks for putting up with me, Twilight.” Pinkie returned Twilight’s embrace. “I’d be so lost without you all for my friends.”

They sat in silence for a minute, enjoying each other’s company. When it was apparent the conversation had finished to be subsequently followed by placid quiet, Twilight felt Reason mentally nudge her.

If Pinkie develops split-personality disorder too, then I vouch for never using Dreamscape on anypony else ever again.

Okay, to be fair, Twilight countered, whatever is causing Pinkie all her distress is most likely something she’d subconsciously suppressed that her manipulation merely exhumed. The impetus of Spike’s case occurred before we even found Mr. Cob’s lost notes, and you came to fruition as a result of what happened to me while under the effects of Dreamscape, not from an effect of the spell itself.

And yet here we are, with two confirmed cases of DID in those Dreamscape has been used on and an indication of what could become a third. Doesn’t take somepony as smart as either of us to see a common factor, Reason stated.

I know, Twilight admitted. Why do you think I’ll be using the firewalls in this afternoon’s dream session, too?

If yesterday’s dream was any indication, that might not be enough, Reason said. Maybe this just isn’t a safe spell for anypony to use.

Then why would Cob have hidden his notes instead of destroying them? Twilight asked.

There’s no way of knowing for certain unless we could ask him ourselves. Unfortunately, nopony even knows where he is. All we can do is conjecture. Maybe those rumors are true and he was actually running from the law, so he hid his notes in a place where he could later retrieve them, but never got the chance to. Maybe he never used the spell himself and didn’t realize how dangerous it is. Or maybe he did use Dreamscape, and that’s why he didn’t destroy them... maybe he wasn’t completely sane, either.

But you said it yourself, there’s no way of knowing unless we get to ask him, Twilight said.

I know. My point is, just be careful.

Don’t worry, I will.

Reason sighed to herself. If you were, I doubt I’d even exist to be having this conversation with you right now.


- - - - - -


Spike walked along the path with a stiffness in his gait that shouldn’t have been present in something as casual as going from one place to another. Really, it was the result of a middle-ground having been found between the two other options for the rate at which he could have been moving: a lethargic shuffle, or an urgent marathon sprint, of which he was still debating whether or not to submit to one or the other. Either way, it was getting him where he needed to be, whether or not he could even be certain the trip would even be worth his time.

When Applejack, Rainbow, Fluttershy and Rarity had returned the library again that day to further their acclimation to Dreamscape, Pinkie had opted to be the one to stay awake and wake them up, leaving Spike to meander about as he pleased. Yet of all the things he could have chosen to do, he watched them from all from atop the stairs, even knowing he risked having to watch them slather Pinkie with their pity again. At this point, he felt that was the only distance he could be around his friends.

After they had awoken and discussed their next meeting, Rarity was quick to excuse herself and departed in a hurry. Spike knew her signs well enough to know when Rarity was reaching a breaking point, so while the rest of his friends were busy not paying him any attention, he had quietly snuck out of the library and set off with nothing but a fool’s hope to drive him.

Which was how he had ended up here, on this familiar cobblestone path, but without any of the usual vigor he used to have when he was going to Carousel Boutique. He knew the outcome he dreaded was more than likely the outcome he was destined to receive, but upon further thought, realized he had nothing better to do. He’d finished all his chores and tried to lay down for some rest, but sleep was now proving to be yet another elusive mistress. Twilight had even checked up on him, but he lied and said he had just woken up from a quick nap.

So given the choice of taking a chance or having the compassionate, comforting words of his distant friends further entomb him in his isolation, he decided to go with the option that only might crush his spirits.

In all his brooding and staring at the ground, Spike reached Rarity’s home business sooner than he was ready. He tried to compose his thoughts into something more optimistic and charming, but after five minutes of looking at his feet, his disposition remained unchanged.

Spike looked up all the door and sighed. Multiple scenarios of how the situation could commence were playing out in his head. Only one of them had a preferential outcome, and it was so overwhelmed by the mass of more likely results that the odds of achieving it seemed to be about one in don’t even bother trying.

Even my own fantasies are hardly worth the effort now, he thought.

A memory of something Pinkie had said whispered to his empty heart. “If you can’t put your faith in your friends, who can you trust?”

He remembered the earnest way in which Twilight looked at the miserable pony. “So you’re willing to take a leap of faith with me?”

Spike cleared his throat and straightened his shoulders. The cards have been dealt, the chips are down, and I’ve got nothing left but this.

And then he raised his fist, still leaden with the shackles of his burdens, and knocked on the front door.

His arm fell back down to his side, and he began to wait. And wait. And wait.

It couldn’t have been more than a minute, but each passing second was disassembling what little resolve he had left. Spike knocked on the door again, slightly more urgent this time.

Another minute passed, and the door remained closed.

Spike knocked on the door for a third time, and leaned in closer, listening for any sounds originating from within as each moment that the door separated him from the inside wrecked havoc in his frayed nerves. This time, he heard the clopping of hooves cantering across tile towards the door.

His thoughts returned in rapid, sweeping waves, bearing anxiety on their tides as Spike tried to interpret an inflection based of the sound of somepony’s strides.

That’s not Sweetie Belle, is it? No, her strides are short since her legs are smaller. It has to be Rarity. Is she striking the ground that hard because she’s irritated? Oh Celestia, she’s going to be mad at me... No, think positive! She’s under a lot of stress, maybe she’ll be glad for a change of pace or a visit from a friend…

The front door was briskly ripped open, her dainty appearance somewhat frazzled. Rarity looked down at Spike. Whatever frivolous beliefs Spike clung to disintegrated with Rarity’s contemptuous tsk.

“Hi, Rarity,” Spike disheartedly said. “Look, I know you’re busy—”

“And yet you disrupt my schedule regardless,” Rarity impatiently cut him off. “Do you have any idea how much I’m dealing with?”

“Well, yeah. That’s why—”

“I’m slaving away on a project that could make or break my business, and on top of that I have a friend who might lose their mind if I’m not available for them at a moment’s notice. I haven’t even been able to get a proper amount of sleep for almost a whole week! Do you have any idea how much stress I’m currently under?” Rarity tersely asked.

“Yes, so—”

“Then why must you keep pestering me?”

“I know, alright?!” Spike snapped back, instantly regretting his outburst of frustration. He sighed and looked down at her hooves. “I know you’re busy, and I know you don’t want me around, but I see how much stress you’re under, and I can’t help but worry about you. That’s why I wanted to ask if there was anything I could do to help you relax.

“I don’t have a whole lot of bits, but I have enough to treat you to a day at the spa, or take you to a nice restaurant. Or I could just show you a special place I know of in a meadow outside town, where it’ll just be the two of us… I mean, when’s the last time somepony treated you like a lady, or made you feel special?” Spike found the strength to look up into her eyes. His own were pleading for acceptance. “I just want you to be happy, Rarity.”

“Oh...” The bitter edge in Rarity’s tone vanished. “Forgive my petulance. That was dreadfully uncouth of me.” She sighed. “You’re right. I have been suffering an immense amount of tension lately...”

Spike leaned forward, hands clamping tightly together, silently imploring her.

“And it is awfully considerate of you to place such concern on my well being...”

Spike held his breath, praying his leap of faith would let him be with the mare he loved.

“But I’m afraid I must say no, Spike.”

Spike felt the unmistakable tug of gravity catching him at the height of his jump. The insurmountable force grabbed his heart and pulled to towards its unfathomable depths. With nothing but empty faith to support him, his heart fell, and did not stop falling. Even as it reached terminal velocity, it never lost sight of what it valued most.

He looked off in the distance: a thousand-mile stare at what would forever be in view, but eternally out of reach: the mare who refused to catch him when he had put the last of his faith in her.

“I’m sorry, Spike, but I am simply far too preoccupied to entertain any activity that would detract from my tasks at hoof. And at this point, if I had free time to indulge, I think it would be more expedient to catch up on lost sleep. All this insomnia can’t be healthy for me...”

“I bet,” Spike replied with an expressionless tone. He understood her words, but his apathy consumed any value they may have once owned.

“And I’m afraid I must beseech you not to extend any further invitations to recreational diversions until my work is finished. Another might be too tempting to resist, and I’d be more than a little upset if taking up a certain handsome little devil’s proposition to take a holiday is what ultimately makes me miss a non-negotiable deadline. Why, I almost had half a mind to accept your offer...”

Spike did not reply, or visibly react in any way.

“Perhaps some other time?” Rarity proposed.

“Sure,” Spike commented, unenthused.

“Again, I apologize for my behavior. I’m sorry things just couldn’t turn out. Really, I am.” Rarity glanced over her shoulder. “Forgive me, but I must depart. I pray that the remainder of your day will be less arduous than mine. Adieu, Spike.”

The golden handle glowed with the Rarity’s magic, and the door swung shut, separating the two.

Rarity clicked all of the locks shut, then trotted back towards her bedroom. She cast a glance at the clock on the wall as she hurried up the stairs and sighed. Spike’s interruption had taken hardly more than two minutes of her time, but it was two minutes she couldn’t afford to lose. It was two minutes that she’d have to shave off an already tight schedule, where mistakes were a high and dangerous probability and having to go back and correct them threatened to ruin her entire routine.

“I’m sorry about that,” Rarity said as she got back to her work station and donned her horned, ruby glasses.

“It’s alright,” Sweetie Belle replied. The filly was standing in a partial dress that was still in the process of being sewed together. “I didn’t move, just like you told me.”

“Thank you, Sweetie Belle,” Rarity acknowledged as she picked up a threaded needle and returned to assembling the partial gown adorning the filly. “And thank you again for standing in lieu of a proper mannequin.”

Sweetie’s ears sheepishly flopped down. “Well, I still owe you for breaking your foal-sized ones… I’m sorry, by the way.”

Rarity tsked. “At least it occurred to you to test that rocket-powered catapult instead of just jumping on it yourself.” Rarity looked at Sweetie with an open heart. “Mannequins can be replaced. Little sisters can’t.”

A tiny smile crept through Sweetie’s nervous visage. “So you’re not still mad?”

“I’m still a touch irritated, but everything worked out.” Rarity answered as she worked. “Even if this is in a sense discipline for your inappropriate behavior, it does mean we get to spend some time together. I can’t help but feel as though my obligations have made me somewhat neglectful of you. And working with a live model helps me gauge how well these dresses will be worn, so I appreciate your company in more ways than one.”

A full smile cracked open Sweetie’s face. “And I get to help my big sister!” Sweetie turned to hug the mare, but Rarity threw out her forelegs to stop the filly.

“Don’t move!” Rarity urgently reminded.

“Oh, sorry.” Sweetie bashfully apologized, then turned around and reassumed her original pose. “So who was at the door?”

“Hm? Oh, it was just Spike.” Rarity nonchalantly replied.

Sweetie craned her neck back a little. “That was Spike? But you sounded so mad at him! Why would you be angry with Spike?”

Rarity took a second to look up at Sweetie before she looked back at her work. “He’s been coming by almost every day for the last week inquiring if he may be of my assistance, and despite having told him no every time, he’s insisted upon pressing the issue to the point of imposing.”

“Wait, so you let me help you, but you keep turning him down? Why would you reject his help but accept mine? That doesn’t seem very fair,” Sweetie commented.

“It’s not that I don’t want his help, it’s that I don’t need it. If I needed to complete a line for young dragons, I’d be more than happy to accept his service. But I’m working on ensembles for ponies, and the pristine decor that must be accomplished here can only be achieved by my hoof, so having Spike around would be more detrimental than helpful.”

“You still didn’t have to be so mean about it,” Sweetie added. “Couldn’t you have just nicely explained that to him?”

“I did, hence why I was a little impatient with him,” Rarity answered.

“You sounded more than just a little impatient,” Sweetie noted. “So was he still trying to help, even though you asked him not to?”

“Um, no, actually...”

“So what did he want then?” Sweetie pressed.

Rarity pawed at the floor with a hoof. “Oh, nothing really…” The next part of her response came out as a partial mumble. “He wished to invite me for some time off...”

“But… you… grr...” Sweetie whipped around to glare at her older sister.

Rarity’s bulging eyes almost popped out of their sockets. “Sweetie, you’re not supposed to move until—”

“No! You need to listen!” Sweetie pointed a hoof at Rarity. “You’ve always taught me to be nice to everypony, but then Spike, your friend, comes over asking if he can do something to be nice to you, and you yell at him!”

“And when I learned his true intention, I apologized for losing my temper with him,” Rarity said.

Sweetie’s expression of admonition faltered for a moment. “Okay, but... you still shouldn’t have gotten mad at him! If my friends were trying to help me out with something stressful and I snapped at them, even if I apologized right after I’d still hear about it from you, wouldn’t I?” Sweetie’s piercing gaze bored into her older sister.

“Maybe, but—”

“I totally would hear it from you, Rarity.”

The mare sighed. “Yes, I suppose you’re right.”

Sweetie eased her tense expression back. “Okay, so you apologized to Spike. Are you going to make it up to him?”

“Why would I need to do that?”

“Well, you probably made him feel bad. He was just trying to help after all...”

“Maybe.” Rarity picked up her needle. “Now may I resume my work? Time is short as it is.”

“Okay,” Sweetie replied, somewhat unsure. Rarity trotted up to her and began sewing again. A moment passed before the inquisitive little filly spoke up again. “Rarity, you’re not just trying to avoid Spike, are you?”

“And why would I be doing that?” Rarity inquired without looking up from her work.

“Because he likes you.”

The needle paused halfway through the fabric. Rarity titled her head down and sighed. “It’s complicated, Sweetie.”

“Well, still, if you hurt Spike’s feelings, you still need to make it up to him. Even if you don’t want to be his special somepony, you’re still friends.”

Rarity hummed a little in thought. “Well, I suppose I could see about doing something later...”

Sweetie looked to her sister with a stern expression. “Rarity...”

Rarity sighed. “Oh, very well. I’ll arrange to spend some time with him where I can offer a proper apology, but it must wait until after I’ve finalized this business arrangement. I cannot afford to do so any sooner… Honestly, what is it about having a little sister that makes me feel like I’ve got a smaller version of mother always following me?”

Sweetie shrugged. “I dunno. Sisters are just supposed to help keep each other in line, I guess.” A sly smile began to creep its way onto Sweetie’s face. “Besides, there’s another advantage to being your little sister...”

“Oh, and what’s that?” Rarity asked with apprehension.

Sweetie’s entire visage was now consumed by a mischievous grin. “Getting to tease my big sister about boys who have crushes on her.”

Rarity sighed. “This is going to be a long night...”

Sweetie tilted her head. “Maybe, but it’ll be entertaining.” The filly smirked. “For me, at least.”

Rarity released an exasperated groan that made Sweetie Belle giggle.


- - - - - -


The golden handle of the front door glowed with Rarity’s magic, and it swung shut in Spike’s face again. He stayed there on the porch, staring at the impenetrable blockade that barred entry to contentment and solitude, just like every time that he could recently remember.

Part of him wanted to find the most secluded place in Equestria and weep until his crying had wrung his eyes dry. Another wanted to delve into an endless rage and demolished everything in sight, and keep destroying until the world was as devastated as he felt. But there wasn’t enough sadness or anger in him to encourage taking part in anything beyond futilely attempting to tear through the door with his eyes. He couldn’t even bring himself to feel sorrow or spite; the only thing he could sense within was the vertigo of abject emptiness.

A full half hour passed before he even moved. With a minute stagger like he’d forgotten how to walk, Spike eventually turned around and shuffled away from Carousel Boutique. He didn’t dare look back, because he knew there would be nothing to see but the door, and nothing to curb the voracity of the ravenous void in lieu of his heart.

Spike’s tiny body shivered like he was standing in a draft. At that moment, he realized he was walking without a destination any more specific than ‘away.’ And that’s when it hit him:

He didn’t have anywhere to go.

He had no business anywhere in town. He had no errands or tasks to complete, and even if he did, he couldn’t have brought himself to be concerned. A trip to the arcade would do nothing to cheer him up, and going to Sugarcube Corner or Sweet Apple Acres for some comfort food felt little more dignified than trying to fish complacence out of the bottom of a bottle. Even if he went back to the library, he’d have to put up with the pitiful sobbing of a dismal pony who was getting all the help and compassion that he couldn’t even let anyone else know that he needed, and the overt over-politeness of a unicorn who for some reason almost seemed to be afraid that he would rip her spine out through her throat if she said or did something to anger him.

Spike released a belated, depressed groan. The whole of his life had become a perpetual nightmare that he’d woken up into and couldn’t even escape with sleep that he could no longer attain. Everything he cared about and loved didn’t love him back. He was so alone that he felt hollow.

“Well, that was painful to watch…”

Spike halted, affixed beside a tree as the cause for his shaking went from loss to loathing.

“Painful in an amusing sort of way, though.”

Antipathy was beginning to occupy the vacuum in Spike’s chest like a contagion. Yet even as he seethed in anger and frustration, his voice was hardly above a whisper.

“What do you want?” Spike hissed.

“Aside from everything?” Avarice quipped, emerging from the denser foliage to rest on one of the lower branches, where he was only visible from where Spike was standing. “To watch you bang your head against the fortress built by Rarity.”

“Shut up!” Spike retorted. “She didn’t say no, she just said… another time…”

Avarice smirked. “Yeah? When?”

Spike remained in place, unable to bring himself to fabricate an answer, or even attempt to provide a baseless speculation.

“As much as I enjoy watching you get kicked around, there’s a more intent reason I tracked you here.” Avarice shifted his position in the tree to direct more focus towards Spike. “After your pathetic attempt to kill me last night, I got to thinking: for all the effort you devote to imitate being a pony, you’re still a dragon… a small, weak dragon who likes to wear aprons, but a dragon regardless. Which is why I’m here: to extend what I dare say is a generous offer for a chance to embrace what  you’re supposed to be.”

Avarice crawled across the branches so that he was in front of Spike. “Since you pony types respond better to affability, I am cordially inviting you to accompany me on a nightly raid.”

Spike looked up at Avarice, towering over him with an imposing posture. Spike let a few moments pass to ascertain whether or not Avarice was seriously making the proposition that he thought he was hearing. Avarice’s intent expression did not falter.

Spike’s reply could not have been more flat and unamused. “No.”

“Come on, how are you ever going to appreciate that you’re a dragon if you never let yourself be one?” Avarice drilled.

“I already tried that on the migration.” Spike tersely replied. “And guess what? I didn’t like it. I don’t want to be a dragon if it means being anything like those jerks I hung out with, or worse, you.”

“What, those parochial dim-wits? I’d hardly call them dragons any more than I would call you one. Do you have any idea how valuable one phoenix is, let alone six? Yet those idiots wanted to smash all of them, and for what?” Avarice let out a humph of contempt. “I’d have kept it… and given that’s what you did, I guess we aren’t so different. Just imagine if I had gotten to that last unhatched egg before any of you did...”

Spike’s insides writhed like worms on a block of ice at the thought of his dear little Pee-Wee being raised under the twisted guidance of a deplorable being like Avarice, who was too busy musing over the prospect to pay Spike any mind.

“I could have raised that phoenix to be my feathery partner in crime. Then I’d have someone around to advance the cause of serving myself, all while it operates on the misguided pretense that its actions will somehow earn my respect or adoration.” Avarice grinned deviously and turned back to Spike. “It’d be just like the relationship between you and Rarity!”

Spike growled in frustration, then performed an about-face and began to stomp away, only for Avarice to swoop down from the tree and impede his path.

“After you stomped off last night, I had to incapacitate Roseluck when she tried to stop me from acquiring a few commodities. If you’d been there to act as a lookout, there might have been a chance that wouldn’t have happened.”

Spike glared at Avarice. “Or you could stop stealing everything that you can get your filthy claws on and let Princess Celestia throw you into the lowest dungeon in Canterlot so I can live happily with my friends.”

A sneer attempted to work its way onto Avarice’s face, but he kept his composure cool. “All I’m suggesting is that you act as the point guard to alert me if either of us are about to be compromised. You don’t even have to take anything.”

Spike’s throat had become dry. He detested what Avarice was doing, but if he could at least keep him from hurting anypony else, he’d be able to spare them just a fraction of the panic and dread he’d felt when Avarice remodeled the cabinet at the base of the stairs with his face. But then Spike was hit with a sudden bout of cold sweat when he realized he was actually considering the invitation.

“No,” Spike answered. “If being a dragon means being anything like you, then I’d rather spend the rest of my life as a maredrake.”

At that, Spike pushed past Avarice and continued to walk away. In addition to the immense frustration he was feeling, his original feelings of vacuousness over all his unfulfilled relationships returned. Even as he marched across that open field, he still didn’t know if he was going home. It certainly didn’t feel like home, not with how the connections between himself, Pinkie, and especially Twilight had deteriorated. All he cared about was getting away from Avarice… away from Rarity…

Avarice casually leaned up against the tree and smirked. “Come on, it’s not like you’ve got anything better to do...”

Spike froze in his tracks.

Initially, he wanted to turn around and scream all his contempt at Avarice, but with each passing second, it was more evident that he really didn’t have anything better to do. His whole life had revolved around serving Twilight, and then about serving Twilight and her friends; he had never had anything better to do. And now that everypony had been shutting him out, he didn’t even have purpose.

A terrible thought swept through his mind, one that horrified to to his core for how much he couldn’t quell or contradict it.

Has friendship made me a slave?

And then here of all people was Avarice, offering him even the most meager of chances to do something important, even if it was just protecting ponies from his worst sins made real... and he wouldn’t have to get permission or be told to do it by Twilight.

Spike had to force out a response through a strained and thick voice.

“If I go with you, do you promise not to hurt anypony?”

“I promise nothing,” Avarice replied. “If I did, then had to knock out somepony, that would mean I broke my word, and my word is rather valuable to me. All I’m offering is something you’ve never been given: a chance to make a difference by acting for yourself… even if all that amounts to at the moment is trying to keep ponies from falling down the stairs.”

Spike closed his eyes, then let out one last impoverished sigh.

“Aright. I’ll go.”

Avarice grinned, revealing all his rows of vicious fangs. “Killer!” he exclaimed. “See you later this evening, after Twilight passes out from helping Pinkie so much.”

Spike grimaced. Behind his back, Avarice unfurled his wings to take flight, but he paused to direct one final glance towards the little dragon.

“Try to get some sleep before then, because you’re going to be up all night.”

Then Avarice took off, leaving Spike truly alone in the open courtyard. All the events that had transpired in the last hour had left his thoughts in a bludgeoning tizzy. Even with all his ambivalence and trepidation over this new arrangement with Avarice, he couldn’t discern whether he’d rather be struggling with the loneliness he was just feeling.

He looked back at Carousel Boutique, and felt something worse envelope him.

Guilt.