//------------------------------//
// Chapter 2 - Shock, Then Blah 
// Story: The Surprisingly Complicated Love Life of Spike the Dragon 
// by King of Beggars 
//------------------------------//

A thousand years ago, following the banishing of Nightmare Moon, Celestia found herself alone in the castle built by herself and Luna. The way Celestia explained it, the ruins of the castle were too great a reminder of what she’d lost in the battle with her sister, and she immediately abandoned it.

She decided to begin anew atop a nearby mountain range, rich with streams and waterfalls, which would provide fresh water for her new capital. Over the decades, the mountain’s natural plateaus and cliffs were expanded using powerful unicorn and earthpony magic, allowing the city built around the newly founded Canterlot Castle to steadily grow until it was one of the finest the world had ever seen.

Unlike newer cities like Las Pegasus or Manehattan, or highly progressive towns like Ponyville, Canterlot wasn’t what one would consider a city of change – Spike always figured this was part and parcel with being ruled by a two-thousand year old immortal. In the thousand years since its founding, the general architecture and city plan hadn’t undergone much alteration. Aside from a few extra buttresses on the buildings, or an additional flourish of paint or sculpture, the city was virtually indistinguishable from how it looked centuries ago. Even newly erected buildings in the outlying districts tended to adhere – at least loosely – to the aesthetics of the past.

Predictably, the closer one got to Canterlot Castle, the more pronounced the lack of change was. The nobles that lived in the Upper District clung to their roots: the bloodlines going back to the great leaders and founders of Unification Era Equestria. While the majority of the city was pristine and well cared for, it was fashionable for the nobles to let their homes show a bit of wear to signify their age, as though their houses were so much older and more respectable than those of commoners. In the Upper District every house was more like the rest than the last, with only one exception.

Spike’s parents’ house was a three-story wooden cottage amidst block after block of white marble and granite. The vibrantly colored canary yellow and cobalt blue exterior clashed terribly with every surrounding house, and no other building in the district had anything like the massive domed roof that housed the small observatory his dad used when he brought work home.

Night Light had earned the position of Royal Astronomer at a rather young age, and had declined the offer to use the private dormitories at the observatory, in order to find a more comfortable place for his growing family. Celestia had been kind enough to grant him a small plot of land in the Upper District, which had gone unused for generations aside from housing an old stone bench.

The nobles had been none too pleased to see a commoner receiving such a boon and protested it in the only way they understood: whining and silly committee actions.

The Canterlot Historical Preservation Society had petitioned numerous times to halt the building of the new home, in a misguided attempt to curb what they no doubt believed would be the ignition point for a full invasion by the hoi polloi rising as one from their ghettos. When their political maneuvering failed, they resorted to civil disobedience. Five of the stuffiest, snootiest ponies the Noble’s Court had ever seen, had chained themselves to the old bench on behalf of their Society, holding picket signs bearing slogans like “Save The Bench!” and “Don’t Sit On Me!”

The construction machinery and building crews had gathered around the chanting bourgeoisie at a loss for how to proceed. Finally, the forestallion had had enough and trotted right up to the group, placed a hoof on the bench, and mashed it to gravel with an impressive display of earthpony strength. The sight of the dumbfounded nobles had been so funny that the story had made all the papers, and Night Light still had a framed copy of the front page article hanging in his office. He had made sure to point at it and proudly regale his children with the tale every time they visited him at work.

Eventually the nobles calmed down, and once the house was up and their family had moved in, nopony made any waves about it. Night Light had often said that the nobles involved were all still smarting from the public lampooning they’d received after their little stunt with the sit-in. It also helped that he had the full backing of not only the princess, but the entire Equestrian academic community. As Royal Astronomer, the measurements and calculations that Night Light published annually were used in nearly every field of advanced magical research and spellcraft.

Overhead, Celestia slowly lowered the sun and Spike hummed as he walked the familiar streets of Canterlot under the cool curtain of the approaching night. The ponies may not have been as friendly as they were back in Ponyville, but it was still good to be home.

He stepped up to the front door of the house and opened his duffle bag, which contained a few odds and ends, some writing supplies, and a set of formal clothes in case he wasn’t able to get out of dinner at the castle. He rummaged around until he found the spare key his parents had given them in case of emergencies.

Spike stepped inside and flipped a wall switch, lighting up the electric fixtures that ran along the hallway and into the living room.

“I’m home,” he announced to the empty house with a grin.

The home, like Twilight Velvet and Night Light themselves, was simple and comfortable.

The furniture was plain and just a bit ratty with use, and if you flipped the cushions you were certain to find the faded remnants of chocolate ice cream stains or stitches where somepony was careless with a horn or claw. The seats were still springy, though, and that was all that mattered.

Spike set down his bag and walked over to Night Light’s high-backed smoking chair, which was positioned in the coveted spot closest to the fireplace. He ran his claws fondly over the large black splotch of charred fabric on one arm, which guests often assumed came from a stray ember from the hearth or from the occupant falling asleep with a lit pipe. Nopony ever suspected the blemish was the result of a tussle between an overexcited baby dragon and his big sister over who would get to sit in the chair.

Nearly every surface of the living room had some photograph on it; picture after picture after picture of every meaningful event for their family. Guests entering the house were immediately greeted by the Hearth’s Warming Eve photos, complete with thick, ugly sweaters in festive designs. On the mantle above the fireplace were some of the more important photos, like graduations, his parents’ wedding picture, and the first day that Shining, Twilight, and Spike were brought home.

Against the back wall that separated the living room from the kitchen sat his mother’s piano. In her youth she’d been a very promising keyboard player, and had attempted to pass that musical gift on to her children. Shining and Twilight had very rudimentary skills in the area of music, but their talents lay elsewhere, so their mother eventually gave up teaching them. Spike, however, took very well to music, much to Twilight Velvet’s delight.

Spike went to the piano and noodled out a few bars of nothing in particular. He’d spend hours of his childhood sitting at the keys, practicing and entertaining his family while they discussed the day’s events around the fire.

“Still perfectly in tune,” Spike said with a chuckle as he ran the back of his hand from one end of the keys to the other.

Spike went to the staircase leading to the second floor and dragged his duffle up the steps towards his old room.

His parents had their bedroom up on the third floor, along with their extra large master bathroom and his dad’s study. The second floor had a full bath of its own, and two bedrooms: one for Shining, and one that he and Twilight shared.

He opened the door to his old bedroom and hit the lights, illuminating the green and purple walls. He threw his bag on Twilight’s old bed – the one with the bright pink quilt embroidered with a quill and parchment – and threw himself onto his own bed.

He shook his head and laughed quietly to himself, rubbing his face against the soft blue comforter. The bed was practically brand new, since as a baby Spike had had preferred sleeping in a basket – a preference influenced by some deep seated draconic instinct for young dragons to sleep in small nests prepared by their mothers. As he grew older, that instinctual impetus waned and he was able to discover the magic of actual mattresses.

“A basket,” he chuckled. “What was I thinking?”

He began drifting to sleep, only to suddenly become very aware that he hadn’t eaten since breakfast.

“Think, think, think…” he muttered to himself. He was trapped, torn between two of his favorite things: eating and sleeping. “Eh… better get up…”

He rolled out of bed and went down to the kitchen in the hopes that there might be something to eat. His parents would no doubt have gotten rid of everything perishable before leaving on their trip, but he crossed his claws and hoped for a miracle as he approached the fridge.

“Empty,” he sighed as he peered inside the icebox. “Of course it is.”

He stared sadly at the only thing in the fridge, a small unopened jar of mayonnaise, and cursed his lack of foresight. He really should have stopped by the market, or at least the Hay Burger.

A quick search of the cabinets turned up nothing more substantial than a half empty box of crackers. He examined one and nibbled experimentally. They were a little stale, but otherwise serviceable. He was struck by grim inspiration and returned to the fridge to collect the jar of mayonnaise. He opened it, sniffed it suspiciously, and scooped a helping of the substance onto a cracker. It was disgusting, it was unhealthy, and it was very likely to give anything less hearty than a dragon severe indigestion at best, but he took a bite anyway.

“You’re no nachos,” he said to the snack as he chewed, “but you’ll do.”

He carried his dinner back to the living room and set it on the coffee table. Bundles of firewood were stacked beside the hearth, and a snap of his claw against the twine freed a few logs, which he tossed into the fireplace. He puffed a small gout of flame, just enough to get the fire going, and watched until he was sure that it would sustain itself.

In the corner of the room sat an old record player that he considered turning on. His father’s half of the collection was mostly old comedy albums from stand up comedians telling horrifically out-of-date political jokes, but his mom’s taste in music was actually pretty good.

He browsed the records and pulled out a fairly recent Sapphire Shores acoustic album that he wasn’t familiar with. The sassy musician had tried to reinvent herself a few years back and turned away from the pop stylings that had earned her fame. While the move hadn’t been particularly great for her career, Spike felt it was a turn for the better as far as her music went.

He flipped the album over and read the track list, which consisted of song titles hinting at topics like lost love and the meaning of life. He frowned and put the record back. A quick flip through the collection turned up more of the same type of love ballads and melancholy crooning from various artists. He cursed his lack of choice and grabbed the album that looked the least offensive to his mood.

He put his selection on the player, set the needle to a random track, and sat in his dad’s chair to eat his pathetic dinner.

“You ever notice how nobles be walkin’ around all like zoop zoop zoop?” the comedian on the record asked of the crowd as they stomped their hooves and roared with laughter. “What’s up with that?”

“Well, this vacation is off to a great start,” Spike muttered around a mouthful of mayo-crackers.


* * *


Spike walked through the castle doors and released the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

“Glad I got that out of the way,” he said to himself as he hurried away from the entrance.

He had considered not stopping by the castle at all, but knew that he would never hear the end of it from Twilight if he didn’t at least drop in for a quick hello to pay his respects. He was in Canterlot on a quest to clear his head enough to ruminate on the future of his love life, and he honestly hadn’t looking forward to dancing around that issue with a pony as sharp as Princess Celestia. The princess could be pretty nosey about things, especially where close friends were involved, but Spike was still content to ignore the problem for a while longer.

Luckily, she had been suspiciously understanding about his assurances that his vacation was just a private getaway. Her acceptance of his vagueness and the little knowing smirk she wore during their visit made Spike suspect that Twilight might have gotten into contact with her, probably even before he’d left for Canterlot. He was a little miffed that Twilight was telling tales out of school, but was relieved that he didn’t have to discuss the issue. She had probably apprised Celestia of his circumstances to take some of the heat off of him, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t give her an earful later for tattling so readily.

They’d spoken a while, had some tea, and Luna had even stopped in for a few minutes to greet him as well. The Princess of the Night had had that same little glint in her eye that her sister did – that silent little giddiness that females got whenever they knew a secret about a male – which indicated that his secret struggles were becoming less secret by the moment.

After an hour or so, one of the royal aides, a unicorn with a fountain pen for a Cutie Mark, entered the room and pulled the princess away to deal with matters of state. Spike had made a mental note to find out that pony’s name and send her a fruit basket for her birthday.

He paused and looked around the castle forecourt for somewhere to go and decompress.

First time visitors to Canterlot were often surprised at how big the castle grounds were. The walls surrounding the castle didn’t only surround the castle, but also protected the royal gardens, the archives, the observatory, and Celestia’s school.

He mulled his choices over and headed down the path towards the archives. A good book was always a surefire way to relax.

The Canterlot Royal Archives were essentially an enormous library, the largest in all of Equestria. For a thousand years, Celestia’s hoofpicked archivists had collected books from all over the world to fill these hallowed halls. The collection was so vast that the shelves had to be magically reinforced to bear the weight of all the books, and a goodly portion of the collection wasn’t even above ground. A few centuries ago Celestia had ordered that the building be expanded downward, into the mountain itself.

His and Twilight’s library was impressive, but the Royal Archive? It was downright awe-inspiring.

He stopped at the golden gates leading into the building and greeted the guards.

“Fellas,” he said with a nod. “How’s the weather today?”

“Partly cloudy with a chance of nerds,” one of the guards replied with a snicker at the terrible old joke.

The other guard’s eyes widened as his senior officer broke discipline to greet their guest.

“What’s this guy’s problem?” Spike asked of the first guard.

“He’s new,” the stallion answered. He turned to his subordinate and nodded towards Spike. “This is Spike. You know, the dragon that was in your briefing on VIP’s to look out for?”

“Wait, he’s a dragon?” the younger guard asked. “Aren’t dragons supposed to be…?”

The younger guard stood on his hind legs and gestured vaguely with a raised hoof.

The older of the pair held his hoof to his face in embarrassment, unable to believe that the recruit could be so blunt about such a sensitive topic. The warning to not bring up Spike’s height was even underlined and bolded in the dossier on him.

Spike narrowed his eyes and walked through the door with a snort. “Why don’t you boys do me a favor and go ahead and have a great day?”

He grinned as he heard the older guard tell his subordinate that he’d be doing laps around the building once their watch was over.

Spike spared a glance at the circulation desk as he passed. The librarian, a severe looking elderly mare with her mane done up in a bun held by a pencil, glared at him over the rim of her little red-framed reading glasses as he passed. The head librarian had been on the job for as long as he could remember; every day, without fail. The students from Celestia’s school often speculated on what kept the mare so healthy, even despite her apparent age. The most popular theory was that she was some kind of aberrant changeling that fed on intellectual curiosity, though the theories about cloning and an entire family of identical sisters also had groundswell the last time he’d checked.

The familiar scent of old books was thick in the air as he strode into the main lobby. A valley of books rolled out before him in a seemingly endless maze of shelving, reading tables, and catalogues. To most visitors the sight was intimidating, but to Spike it was as familiar as the back of his hand.

When he and Twilight were living in Canterlot, the archive was the place they’d spent most of their time. A large section of the building was dedicated to being a public lending library, but much of the archive’s actual collection wasn’t generally available to the public. Only students and faculty of Celestia’s school, or other accredited learning institutions, were allowed into certain areas, and that wasn’t even mentioning the actual Restricted Wing. Of course, because of their connection to Princess Celestia, he and Twilight had full run of the place.

Which presented Spike with a problem: what should he read when he had the largest collection of reading material on the planet at his clawtips?

The research project Twilight had proposed to him the other day flittered to the front of his mind. The whole thing had been a ruse to get him to close up the library, but she had said that she did want to get around to it eventually. It had been a pretty interesting topic to study...

Spike only made it a few paces towards the Sciences before he felt something smash into him from behind with a high-pitched squeal. A pile of books and thick rolls of parchment fell atop him as he dropped to the ground, burying him alive. Luckily, this was hardly the first book avalanche he’d been in. He stood and rubbed the back of his head where the corner of a thick chemistry book had struck him. He silently thanked Celestia for the ruggedness of dragon scales.

“Sorry, sorry, sorry!” a mare apologized rapidly. “I was reading and I wasn’t looking where I was… Spike…?”

Spike’s eyes widened as he realized who had run into him. His attacker was a snow white coated unicorn with voluminous crimson hair streaked with violet, and her Cutie Mark was a crescent moon above three stars, which Spike knew signified an affinity for magic and astronomy.

“Moondancer?” Spike asked. “Wow, it’s been what… years?”

The mare nodded bashfully as she fixed the big blue bow tied to the base of her tail with a tug of her magic. “Something like that,” she laughed. “How’ve you been?”

“Well, I’ve been better,” he said, rubbing at the sore spot on his head.

“Ah, I’m so super sorry!” she gushed. She began to fret and check him over for injuries. “I was just kind of in a hurry and I wasn’t watching where I was going. See I was reading this book and you came out of nowhere…”

Spike laughed as she continued to yammer on and prod his sides experimentally, possibly searching for broken ribs.

“Stop, that tickles,” he said, brushing her hooves away gently and interrupting her longwinded explanation of the events leading up to their collision.

A loud shush came from behind them. The librarian had come over to see what was going on and hushed the two troublemakers before returning to her station.

“Sorry!” Moondancer said, her voice becoming a throaty hiss as she tried to whisper loudly enough to be heard.

It was good to see that Moondancer hadn’t changed much since their school days. She and Spike had shared most of their classes in Primary school, which consisted of the basic education courses that every young student in Equestria had to endure. Celestia’s school had a very condensed version of the curriculum – it was a school for gifted children, after all – which allowed students of the prestigious academy to get into advanced coursework sooner by graduating to Secondary education relatively early.

Spike remembered that Moondancer had been a curious girl, in every sense of the word. She was inquisitive, like Twilight had been, but unlike his sister, Moondancer had an outgoing charm and a tendency towards silliness that even endeared her to the older students. The entire campus more or less considered her everypony’s little sister, or mascot, depending on who you asked.

“I haven’t seen you since Primary graduation,” she said softly, to avoid the ire of the librarian, as she levitated her books and organized them back into neat stacks according to subject.

“Yeah, I kind of got swept up in helping Twilight with her post-grad studies, and a couple of months later I ended up moving to Ponyville,” Spike explained as he stooped to help her. He noted that most of the books were very advanced books on magic and chemistry, some of them coming from the restricted stacks.

“I was pretty disappointed that you didn’t get to join me in the Secondary classes,” she said. “I always had fun studying with you.”

“Well it is a school for unicorns,” Spike laughed. He tapped his forehead with a claw knowingly. “No horn, see? I was a special case, so they let me attend for the General Education, but Gen-Ed ends after Primary, and I couldn’t do the Secondary stuff because that’s when the magical studies went from theory to practical.”

“Such a shame,” Moondancer sighed. “You really had a head for magic theory, which I guess still holds true.”

Spike shot her an inquisitive look. “How do you know what I’ve still got a head for?”

“I read that paper you published on the properties of dragonfire and the ways it interacts with unicorn magic,” she explained happily. “It was top notch stuff!”

A little flame of pride began to burn in Spike’s chest at the compliment. He took a breath and quickly smothered it before it became an inferno self-aggrandizement.

“Twilight wrote most of that. I only really wrote the foreword and did most of the lab work. It wasn’t a big deal. Honestly, it felt a little bit like giving a book report on myself.”

Moondancer looked taken aback. She cautiously jabbed Spike in the side again, raising an eyebrow in suspicion.

“You sure you’re Spike?” she asked in a measured tone. “The Spike I know would’ve climbed to the top of a bookshelf and started telling the whole library about all the hard work he put into something like that.”

“I was never that bad, was I?” he asked sheepishly.

“I may be embellishing a little, but not by a lot,” she said with a fond smile.

They carried the books to a table and set them down. Spike pulled a chair out for Moondancer, which earned a coo of appreciation from the mare.

“Ooooh, how cultured of you,” she commented to the dragon as he took his own seat. “So what brings you to the archives?”

“Just looking for a little light vacation reading,” he answered. “Things got a little busy in Ponyville for me and Twilight suggested I get out of town for a while, just for a breather from work or whatever.”

“Anything in particular you’re looking to read?”

“Something from the Weather Sciences,” Spike said with a shrug. “Twilight and I are planning to do some research on something with lightning. I need to familiarize myself with the stuff.”

“Okay, now I know you’re not Spike,” she scoffed. “Spike would never read something as dry as a science textbook while on vacation. Or is ‘looking for something to read’ just some kind of code phrase for ‘looking for a comfortable pile of books to sleep on?’ See, that’s something I would believe of the real Spike.”

“If I don’t do it now I’m going to have to cram it later!” he said defensively. “And you’re a fine one to talk about anypony’s tastes in recreational reading.”

Spike tapped one of the books, a thick brown tome, stained with age. In place of a title the book simply bore the Cutie Mark of Starswirl the Bearded.

“I’m pretty sure this one isn’t even supposed to leave the restricted area,” he said smugly.

“The lighting’s better in here,” Moondancer explained timidly, a light blush on her cheeks. “It’s fine as long as I don’t leave the library with it.”

“How’d you get in there, anyway?” he asked curiously.

“One of my professors got Princess Celestia to sign a permission slip for me,” she said.

“Oh, so you’re still studying?” Spike asked.

Moondancer brushed back her mane and nodded. “I’m working on a graduate degree. I want to be a professor.”

“Wow, so is this for your thesis, then?”

“It’s related to it,” she answered. “It’s kind of overwhelming, though. I’ve never worked on a project this big before and my organizational skills are kind of… wanting…”

“How about I help you?” Spike offered plainly. “I’m a master of organization.”

“I couldn’t ask you to do that,” Moondancer said. “You said you were on vacation!”

Spike sighed. “I think what’ll be best for me on this vacation is just to have something to keep my mind occupied.”

“Is everything okay…?” Moondancer asked, suddenly concerned by the odd tone that had crept into his voice. The little oddities in his behavior were beginning to pile up and she could sense that he had something weighing on him.

“Of course,” Spike quickly assured her. “I get to spend time with an old friend again. What could be more fun?”

Moondancer smiled bashfully. “I-if you say so…”

“Tell me about this project of ours,” Spike prompted her. He looked over some of the books again, clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth in thought as he read. “I see a lot of stuff about potioneering and magic geometry. That’s an odd combination.”

“You know me,” Moondancer tittered anxiously. “I’ve always been a fan of odd combinations...”


* * *


It had been two days since Scootaloo had confessed her heart’s deepest secret to the first guy who’d ever caught her eye. She’d been mortified, embarrassed beyond comprehension, but she’d gotten it out and that was what mattered. 

According to Twilight, Spike had chosen to spend some time in Canterlot thinking things over, and try as she might Scootaloo just couldn’t bring herself to be mad at him. She’d been kicking herself for it since she’d heard he’d left, but she had been the one to say that he should take all the time he needed. He hadn’t said no outright, hadn’t told her that he only liked her as a friend or that he couldn’t see himself dating somepony like her, and she was going to take that as a good sign.

The only issue was that it was very stressful not knowing which way the chips were leaning, so she did the only thing she could think of to relax while she waited for the other hoof to fall.

There was no place in all of Ponyville more relaxing than the trail that snaked its way through White Tail Woods. The path had been beaten by the hooves of generations of ponies participating in the annual Running of the Leaves, and the rest of the year the path was just a nice place to go for a hike.

Frequent joggers tended to avoid the path, choosing instead to stick to the walkway through the park near the center of town. The path through the woods tended to be too long and out of the way for any but the most serious of runners. It was usually abandoned, except for weekends, and the few weeks leading up to the Running of the Leaves when ponies went into training for the event.

A nice long, quiet stretch of trail with nopony to interrupt was exactly what Scootaloo needed. Exercise always cleared her head of distractions and worry. She could get up early after a night of tossing and turning over this or that, but as soon as she stepped on the trail and started moving, she could lose herself in her body. Her conscious mind faded away, only focusing on the sensation of her hooves striking the dirt, the ache in her muscles, the feel of sweat rolling down her forehead. Flying was great, she loved flying, but she could never seem to lose herself in the act the way she did with running.

The road beneath her began sloping to the left almost imperceptibly. This miniscule defect in the path would be undetectable to anypony that wasn’t intimately familiar with the road, but to Scootaloo it was a marker that told her that her circuit was nearing its end. She kept running along the path until she came upon a tree where a young couple had carved their initials into the trunk at some unknown point in the past.

She turned off the road at the tree, vaulting over a low bush, and slowed down to walk the last few lengths along the much rougher path. The shortcut led her to a water pump at the very edge of Sweet Apple Acres. She began pumping the handle, grunting with the effort needed once a little bit of pressure built in the line. Water gushed up from the ground every with stroke until it filled a large wooden pail beneath the spout. She drank straight from the bucket until she had her fill and dumped the remainder on her head.

“It’s almost enough to make a girl forget,” she quipped sedately as she shook the water from her mane.

She trotted in the direction of the clubhouse. The building had gone through a little remodeling over the years, from repairs after failed Cutie Mark attempts, additions added by Apple Bloom, and whatever interior design fad Sweetie Belle’s magazines insisted was all the rage in some far off fashion hotspot.

Sometimes Scootaloo wondered if maybe she and the girls were too old for tree houses, but the sight of the place always filled her heart with the warmth of the memories they’d made there. One day they’d have to give it up, abandon it for some other group of starry-eyed misfits to discover and fill with memories of their own, but that day wasn’t quite here just yet.

As Scootaloo neared the tree house she could hear the murmur of her two best friends in heated discussion. This wasn’t an uncommon thing, as Sweetie and Bloom tended to have friendly disagreements over most any topic that came up.

She approached the clubhouse and the voices floating out the opened window became clearer.

“This is all your dang sister’s fault,” Apple Bloom accused in that gruff familial accent of hers.

“How is it Rarity’s fault that Spike likes her?” Sweetie asked defensively.

Scootaloo paused in surprise. Her friends were talking about Spike, which meant they were probably talking about her as well. She crept forward slowly, unable to resist the urge to eavesdrop. Her ears strained to pick up every word.

“She’s the one that’s been leading poor Spike on all this time,” Apple Bloom pointed out. “If she’d just let the poor fella down sooner, he wouldn’t have still been all twisted up for her like he is and Scootaloo wouldn’t be moping around in them woods like she’s haunting them.”

Scootaloo furrowed her brow. Was she really being mopey?

“Spike’s to blame in this too, you know,” Sweetie said with a sniff of contempt. “He should’ve pushed Rarity into making her choice a long time ago. Hay, he should’ve just stallioned up and admitted that Rarity wasn’t interested in him and said yes to Scootaloo on the spot.”

“I reckon you got a point on that one,” Apple Bloom sighed heavily. “I just don’t know what we can do for the gal... You’re sure you don’t know nothing about Rarity’s say in this? Scoots said she’d been holding back all this time on account of not knowing if she stood a chance against your sister. I’d hate to have to that filly go through all this only to end up with Rarity coltblocking her at the finish line.”

“My sister’s not the type to be a… a coltblocker,” Sweetie said sharply. Scootaloo could almost hear the blush in her voice. “But no, I have no idea what Rarity’s opinion is vis-à-vis Spike’s romantic interest. She loves gossiping about stallions, but Spike’s always been one of those ‘off the table’ topics that always just got me a glare and a ‘We do not speak of friends in those regards, young lady.’”

“Seems like maybe that says a thing or two fizzabee her feelings on Spike’s feelings,” Apple Bloom suggested.

“But it might not. Rarity’s weird like that. I mean, she’s my sister and sometimes even I have trouble figuring her out.”

“Well, I still think you should’ve pushed her harder. We would’ve known the truth a long time ago.”

“I had no reason to do that!” Sweetie Belle shouted. “This little dance she and Spike have been having has been going on for years, and it wasn’t anypony’s business but theirs!”

“She’s your sister and he’s our friend,” Apple Bloom said in a measured tone, like she was spelling it out for somepony slow. “That was reason enough to get involved, even before Scoots had pulled up a chair at the table.”

“And yet nopony did,” Sweetie said heatedly. “It’s not just me that ignored this, we all did. Because we all figured that eventually Spike would give it up, or one of Rarity’s dozens of crushes would pan out for her and Spike would be forced to let her go…”

A moment of heavy silence hung over the conversation until Sweetie Belle broke it by adding: “Maybe I could’ve tried to find out something more if Scootaloo hadn’t sprung this on us at the last possible second…”

“Don’t you go blaming this on Scoots, now,” Apple Bloom warned. “She told us when she was good and ready, and I ain’t gunna force a pony to fess up to something like that before they’re ready.”

“Oh, so you wouldn’t have forced Scootaloo to admit it, but I should’ve forced Rarity?”

“Dang it, don’t go and try turning my words around on me with your dang logic!”

“Look, all I’m saying is that Scootaloo should’ve come to us for help,” Sweetie Belle said, slowly bleeding the edge out of her voice. “We’re her friends. Cutie Mark Crusaders help each other, and she didn’t trust us enough to come to us with what is actually a pretty gosh darn big decision…”

“I’ll admit… that does sting a mite in the ol’ pride…”

Scootaloo felt a pang of guilt in her heart. Sweetie Belle was right. If she could’ve trusted anypony, it should’ve been the two ponies that had always had her back, through thick and thin.

She leapt up, flying past the ramp leading up to the front door, and landed on the front walkway. She opened the door to the surprise of the two occupants. Before anything else could be said, Scootaloo rushed forward and pulled her two friends into a hug.

“I’m sorry if I hurt you guys by keeping secrets from you,” she whispered to the two stunned girls in her arms. “I just didn’t know what to do about these feelings, and I kept trying to ignore how I felt. I honestly didn’t want to tell anypony, but Rainbow Dash knew something was up and squeezed it out of me, and Twilight figured it out on her own. I know I should’ve come to the two of you first, and I would have, but everything just kind of came out in the open really fast… I’m so sorry...”

Sweetie and Apple Bloom sat in stunned silence, listening to the apology. After a few moments their brains caught up with the situation and they hugged their friend back.

“You were listening in on us?” Apple Bloom asked.

“I could hear you yelling all the way from the water pump,” Scootaloo answered half-truthfully. There was no reason to bring up exactly how long she’d been listening. “We could drive off Timberwolves with the sound of you two arguing.”

“Yes, well you smell bad, Scootaloo,” Sweetie said as she tightened her grip on her sweaty friend, earning her a laugh from the other two girls.

Scootaloo released her friends and pushed them away gently. Hugs were nice, but she didn’t want them thinking she was going too soft.

“We’re real sorry about talking behind your back,” Apple Bloom apologized as Sweetie nodded her agreement. “It’s just… you know… You know?”

“Yeah, I know,” Scootaloo replied awkwardly. She scratched her collarbone nervously, struggling for something to say.

“Good, we all know,” Sweetie said, summing up the exchange neatly with a roll of her eyes. “Just next time you get a crush, give us a little warning, yes? I don’t think my poor heart can take another shock like that.”

“I’m kind of hoping that crushes won’t be an issue for me for a while after this is all over with,” Scootaloo said. She flopped onto her back against the carpet. “Why are feelings so difficult? Wish I was an awesome cyborg with a cybernetic heart incapable of equine emotion… and beam cannons… Beam cannons and a robot heart.”

Scootaloo pulled her wings in close as she felt Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle settling in beside her, one on each side. Her friends pressed against her, silently sharing their support as they stared at the ceiling. When they were fillies they would always snuggle together like this at slumber parties, or when they would stargaze and dream about the future. Scootaloo grabbed onto that familiar comfort and held it tightly to her chest. No matter what was going on, she always had her girls at her side.

“You can’t solve every problem with cybernetics,” Sweetie said kindly. “There are some things that science can’t fix.”

“Don’t let Twi hear you talking like that,” Apple Bloom snickered. “She might go and make Scootaloo into a pony-borg just to prove you wrong.”

“Do you think?” Scootaloo asked excitedly.

The response came in the form of two groans from the fillies next to her.

“So can I just go ahead and ask?” Sweetie blurted out. “I mean… Spike? Really?”

“He’s cute…” Scootaloo said defensively, as though that were answer enough.

Apple Bloom shrugged. “In his way, I suppose. But don’t you think he’s a touch… indoorsy for you?”

“How do you figure?” Scootaloo asked.

“She’s on to something there,” Sweetie said. “You’re practically the postermare for physical activity, and Spike’s a total homebody.”

“I reckon it’s on account of him being a dragon,” Apple Bloom added sagely. “All the stories I ever heard with dragons had them spending all their time sleeping in caves on top of their hoards. And I know I’ve seen Spike sleeping on a pile of books more than once by a bunch.”

“Hey, pegasi like sleeping, too!” Scootaloo said. “Rainbow Dash has four naps a day.”

“So then you both like sleeping,” Apple Bloom said.

“Yup,” Scootaloo agreed.

“So that’s something you have in common?” Sweetie asked.

“Yup,” Scootaloo answered.

“So then what you’re saying is that you want to sleep with Spike,” Apple Bloom said.

“Yup.”

Scootaloo regretted the word the second it left her mouth. She hid her face behind her hooves as her entire body flushed pink. Her friends began to hooting and making kissy noises while they rolled around on the floor laughing.

“Shut up!” Scootaloo commanded angrily.

Apple Bloom pounced on Sweetie Belle and pinned her to the ground. She leaned over her, gazing lovingly into her eyes.

“D-don’t let me sleep alone, Spike,” Sweetie Belle swooned dramatically as she stared back up at Apple Bloom. “S-stay with me, p-please… I need you to hold me with your big, strong, scaly arms.”

“Oh Scootaloo,” Apple Bloom said to Sweetie. “Oh Scoots, I love you so dang much, I want you to have my babies. Hug me like that teddy bear that you think nopony knows you still sleep with but you totally do.”

Scootaloo ran up to the pair and shoved Apple Bloom as hard as she could, sending the girl tumbling away.

“Oh my gosh, shut up, shut up so hard, both of you!” Scootaloo demanded as she buried her face in the carpet.

Once their laughter died down to painful chuckles, Sweetie Belle and Apple Bloom hugged Scootaloo and gently coaxed her from the little ball of shame that Scootaloo had curled herself into.

“Sorry,” Sweetie Belle apologized. “We couldn’t help ourselves. But don’t you feel better now that you’ve laughed about it?”

“I didn’t laugh,” Scootaloo grumbled bitterly. “You two laughed.”

“Well then don’t you feel better now that we’ve laughed about it?” Sweetie corrected hopefully.

Even Apple Bloom gave her a questioning look.

“All joking aside,” Apple Bloom said, soldiering on. “Why do you like Spike?”

Scootaloo frowned. “It’s kind of hard to explain… thinking about him and being near him makes my heart go really fast, just like in the romance stories, but there’s something else. It’s like… he makes me feel really still.”

She looked up to see her friends sharing expressions of confusion as to her meaning.

“I’m always moving and doing stuff,” Scootaloo said, gesturing with her hooves vaguely in an attempt to communicate the abstract way Spike make her feel. “I’m always thinking about the next trick, or itching to fly, or go for a jog, or something. I’m never content to just sit still… except when I’m with Spike. He makes me feel still, and happy about it.”

“I get that,” Apple Bloom said. “Big Macintosh is about the stillest pony there is. Sometimes I like to just sit with him on the porch and watch the sun go down. Reckon it’s important to have somepony in your life that makes you appreciate the quiet moments, especially for a gal like yourself, Scoots.”

“Yeah, but that’s how you feel about your brother,” Scootaloo said. “I definitely don’t feel like Spike’s a brother to me… It’d uh… be kind of awkward… considering some of the dreams I’ve been having lately…”

Scootaloo held up her hooves to stop the tide of questions she sensed was about to hit her.

“I’m not going to tell you about my dirty dreams!” she said forcefully.

“…so they were dirty, then…?” Sweetie asked.

Scootaloo sighed and hung her head in exasperation. “Just keep putting your hoof in your mouth, Scootaloo, eventually you’ll choke on it,” she muttered to herself.

“Don’t worry about it, everypony has weird dreams,” Sweetie said.

“I just like him,” Scootaloo said, choosing to get back to the topic at hoof. “He’s my friend. He makes me think about stuff, important stuff. And when he’s concentrating on something really hard he sticks out his tongue and it’s so cute I want to just give him a great big kiss... Do I really have to have more reasons than to want the guy as my special somepony?”

“So what’re you going to do, then…?” Sweetie asked softly, her cheeks tinged a little at the sincerity of Scootaloo’s confession.

Scootaloo stood and stretched out the tightness in her muscles.

“With Spike still in Canterlot?” she asked. “I’m going to go for a run.”


* * *


It was eating her up inside – it had been ever since that day that she’d called out Rarity and confronted her on the matter at hoof. At first she hadn’t known what was wrong with her. She was feeling tired and anxious in a way that she couldn’t place. Eventually she realized it was guilt she was feeling. Whether it was guilt over having allowed Spike’s situation to go on for so long, or over the lie she’d told him at Rarity’s urging, she wasn’t completely sure.

The guilt grew in her like a tapeworm, leaving a largely empty feeling in the pit of her stomach that she’d tried to fill with food. The feast that Spike had left upstairs had been eaten in a day, and since then she’d been ordering takeout and eating salty snacks like a college kid fresh out of her parent’s house.

When food didn’t work, she turned to the last refuge for a troubled mind: flowcharts.

She sat hunched over the circulation desk in the library, surrounded by empty takeout containers and crumpled sheets of paper with failed attempts at charting the interactions at play. She’d tried every conceivable permutation to try and sort out where this mess might be heading. She took into account every possible outcome from every angle, for each of the parties involved. She’d even tried to introduce line graphs and Venn diagrams at some early point in her plotting, but they were too inelegant, too limited. Twilight knew that if the proper course of action could be found in meticulous planning and careful organization – and she would bet her life that it could be – that the flowcharts would be the only organizational medium capable of expressing it.

The sound of toppling cardboard filled her ears, startling her out of her obsessive charting. She was hit by the sudden realization that Applejack was standing next to her, one hoof still outstretched incriminatingly where the wall of empty takeout boxes had previously stood.

“Applejack!” Twilight shouted, holding a hoof to her forehead as she fought to regain her composure. “You scared me, what’s the big idea?”

“I had to do something to get your attention," Applejack said in that trademark homespun accent of hers. "You didn’t notice when I came in and you weren’t saying anything back to me. What’re you working on that’s so dang interesting?”

Applejack smoothed out one of the crumpled notes scattered around the desk. All she managed to discern before the paper was yanked away with a tug of Twilight’s magic was that it was some kind of diagram with Spike’s name at the top. The parchment disappeared with a slight pop. The sound echoed a few dozen times as the rest of the paperwork was spirited away, probably to Twilight’s study upstairs.

“It’s nothing,” Twilight said, rubbing her face tiredly. “I’ve just got something on my mind.”

“I can see that,” Applejack said. She placed a hoof on Twilight’s shoulder and gave her a worried look. “You okay, sugarcube? You look like five miles of bad road.”

“I’m just really tired,” Twilight sighed. She levitated the empty food containers into a waste bin and sent it away with another audible pop. Her nose wrinkled at the lingering smell of day old takeout noodles and she made a mental note to get some air freshener later. “To what do I owe the visit?”

Applejack eyed her friend thoughtfully. “Well I had been coming over to see if you were free to sit a spell and help me out with a little advice,” she said. “But it looks like you’re the one that needs somepony to lean on.”

“I’m fine, really,” Twilight replied.

“If you’re fine then what all is with the takeout?” Applejack asked probingly. She picked up a stray noodle and sniffed it. She made a very Rarity-ish noise and walked to another waste basket at the end of the desk to dispose of it.

“I’m just stress eating…” Twilight admitted. “Like I said, I’m just really busy.”

“Twi, that ain’t like you,” Applejack said, her voice heavy with concern. “Last time you got all wound up like this Spike had to hogtie you to a chair to get you settled enough to fill your belly. Where is the little guy, anyway? Why ain’t he helping you with whatever this is?”

Twilight hung her head, staring fixedly at the scuff marks on the floor and not saying a word.

“You know, I came over to talk about Bloom,” Applejack said delicately. “She’s been dragging her hooves all over the house. She’s got that same hangdog look on her that you do. We’re all mighty worried about her, but all she’ll say is that she’s worried about a friend, and that it ain’t her place to say what’s wrong.”

Twilight’s lip began to tremble and her eyes started watering. Days of frustration and worry began to bubble inside her at the implication that Scootaloo’s friends were likewise fretting over the situation, but she put a stopper on it before her emotions got the better of her. With a deep breath she managed to rein it back in, and a swipe of her hoof erased the last of the evidence of her moment of weakness. She felt a hoof on her chin lifting her face up to meet Applejack’s concerned eyes.

“You look like you’re a bad report card away from breaking into tears, sug’,” Applejack said. “Spike’s missing, Bloom is worried about a friend, and now I find you sitting here scribbling away like a madmare. It don’t take a cowpony to know when something smells like manure. What’s going on?”

“It’s…” She tried to turn away again but Applejack held firm. “It’s not my place to say…”

“Bull,” Applejack said simply. “I bought that from Apple Bloom, but I ain’t buying it twice. Just tell me so I can help.”

“If I do, you can’t tell anypony,” Twilight said, almost pleadingly.

Applejack shook her head and sighed. “I’m not one for secrets… if it’s something bad, I can’t promise anything. It’s not anything bad, is it?”

“It’s between Spike and Rarity,” Twilight blurted out. “It’s their business.”

Applejack’s eyes widened.

“Okay, I’m listening,” Applejack said immediately. “I think you’d best start from the top.”

A flash of Twilight's magic locked the castle doors and flipped the door sign, closing up the library. Secure in the knowledge that nopony else would be barging in, Twilight began filling Applejack in on the events of the last few days. Twilight told her about Scootaloo’s confession, the talk with Rarity, finding Spike sitting alone in the library, and how she sent him off to Canterlot to get his head on straight. All the while, Applejack listened quietly, nodding and gasping where appropriate.

Twilight wasn’t sure how long the tale had taken to tell, but by the end of it her stomach was beginning to rumble again. She stopped long enough to ask if Applejack wouldn’t mind finishing their talk in the kitchen. She agreed and Twilight made for the stairs with Applejack right behind.

“As soon as he left I sent a note to Celestia letting her know that Spike was going to be in Canterlot,” Twilight said as she wrapped up the story. “I didn’t give any specifics, but I told her that Spike was there to sort some things out regarding mare troubles, so that she wouldn’t press too hard if she got wind that something was wrong. Knowing her though, she probably sat there smirking at him like she knew the whole deal.”

“Yeah, I reckon the Princess likes her little jokes,” Applejack agreed with a quiet chuckle. “So then… Spike and Scoots? That’s something. Guess that’s what’s been eating at Bloom.”

Twilight nodded mutely as they stepped into the kitchen. She immediately filled a couple of water glasses for herself and her friend. Twilight downed her glass in a single gulp and poured another as she rummaged in the cabinets. Applejack headed for the stools by the counter and had a seat.

“And you’re sure, absolutely sure, that Rares has some kind of feelings for Spike?” Applejack asked.

“Yeah, I’m certain of it,” Twilight said as she emptied a whole bag of chips into a bowl. “The look in her eyes was pretty unmistakable.”

“Dang…” Applejack whispered reverently. “Rainbow Dash owes me so much money…”

“AJ, this is serious!”

“I am talking serious!” Applejack replied with a grin. “Serious bits! I’m getting a new wagon!”

Twilight gave a glare that very clearly communicated what she thought of Applejack’s attempts at levity.

“Alright, alright,” Applejack said. “So then you’re worried about Spike, and how he feels about all this?”

“Yeah, I’m worried about him and also about what this kind of drama could mean for our group dynamic…” Twilight admitted as she trotted over to sit next to Applejack. The levitating bowl of chips set down between them and they each took a few. “But more immediately I’m just feeling really guilty.”

“About not having stepped in sooner?” Applejack asked.

“About that, yes…” Twilight said. She laid her cheek against the cool tile of the counter and watched a chip spin weightlessly in her telekinetic grip. “I’m starting to think that what’s really bothering me is that I lied to him… Intellectually I understand that there is such a thing as a Noble Lie, one that benefits the individual being lied to, but it just doesn’t feel right. Whatever his decision is, it’s going to be based on that lie… I just wanted to protect him… I wanted to protect Rarity, too… and Scootaloo while I was at it…”

She groaned defeatedly and dropped the chip into her mouth. She chewed it more than strictly necessary and stared up at her friend.

“Do you think I did the right thing?” Twilight asked hopefully, her voice more like that of a child asking for validation than of the living embodiment of magic itself. “Keeping Rarity’s secret and lying to Spike, I mean…”

Applejack couldn’t help but grin. “I think you know what my answer to that is, Twi,” she said with a laugh.

“Yeah…” Twilight sighed. “Yeah, I do…”

“Truth is always the best policy, far as I’m concerned,” Applejack said, adjusting her hat and tapping back into place. “But you’re a big girl, and I’ll back you up whatever you decide to do, even if what you choose goes against my better nature. All I’ll say is that you should probably listen to your conscience on the matter.”

Twilight sat upright, grabbed a bunch of the chips, and shoved them into her mouth angrily, not even bothering with her magic.

“My conscience is a jerk and she’s trying to make me fat,” Twilight grumbled tersely, her voice heavily muffled by the amount of chips stuffed into her mouth.

Applejack laughed again and reached for another chip. “Yeah, mine’s a jerk, too. Funny thing, though. She very rarely steers me far off from where I need to be.”

Twilight and Applejack sat there for a while in silence, the only sound being the crunch of chips as they worked their way to the bottom of the bowl.

“I’ll tell him the truth, he needs all the facts it he’s going to make an informed decision,” Twilight declared, earning a nod of approval from her most honest friend. “I’ll send him a letter in a few days. I sent him to Canterlot to have a good time and I don’t want to spoil his vacation just yet. There’ll be enough time for ridiculous romantic drama later.”


* * *