In Search of Lost Friends (Who Aren't Actually Lost)

by Fedora Mask

Chapter 1: How to Keep Friends and Alienate Ponies

“Spike! Spike!” Twilight Sparkle burst through the door of the Ponyville library, head darting in every direction. She shoved her way through a pile of half-read books, not even pausing to stop them from hitting the ground. Still no sign of him. “Spiiiiiiiike!”

A door at the top of the stairs swung open, and out stepped a purple and green dragon clad in a towel. “Geez Twilight, I don't think they heard you in Fillydelphia. What?”

Twilight raced up the stairs, practically tackling her damp assistant into the bathroom door. There was an attempted nuzzle that, had Spike's reflexes been a little slower, would have involved a bit more horn than either of them would have been comfortable with.

A moment passed in silence, as Twilight composed herself, and Spike tried not to think about what had just nearly happened to his left eye.

“Twilight?” he said.

The silence broken, she gushed like the Ponyville dam (recently repaired for the third time that month). “Spike! You know I love you right?”

Spike blinked. “Um.”

“Because I do! You have to understand that Spike, it's very important. I. Love. You,” Twilight said, leaning in very close, a desperate, almost manic look on her face.

Try as he might, Spike couldn't prevent a tiny squeak escaping his throat as he met Twilight's wild gaze. A quick glance right and left confirmed his worst fears—no way past her, even if she couldn't teleport around at will. The library was empty, too... almost nopony ever came in for anything, except Rainbow Dash, and even she only showed up after it was too dark for stunt flying (i.e. too dark for anypony to see her stunt flying). Sunset was still hours away. They were alone.

Huge, expectant eyes hovered mere inches from Spike's. He gulped. “I... I'll scream.”

Twilight blinked confusion, then skittered back in horror. “Eew, Spike! Not like... what have you been reading?!”

“I don't have to—I mean, how was I supposed to know what you meant when you're all invading my personal space?”

“I meant as a frie—wait, were you taking a bath? It's not Tuesday.”

Spike shifted nervously. “Well...”

“Is Rarity coming over?”

“Hey! Can't a dragon decide to take a bath on a cold morning without it being a huge big deal?”

Twilight stared, aghast. “Spike, do you... like taking baths?”

“Only sometimes!” But it was too late; a lavender cheek was already rubbing up against his own.

“Oh, Spike, you don't need to hide things like that from me. After all, we're best friends. Right?”

There was that look again. “Wh-whatever you say, Twilight.”

Confusion crossed Twilight's face at his discomfort. “Oh, you and your 'bubble.'” She pulled back, giving him a few inches of breathing room.

“Twilight, what in the hay is going on?”

Aaand Twilight's face was right back up against his. “I'm glad you asked, Spike. You see I was at Sweet Apple Acres helping Applejack with a few chores, and also telling her about some of those cross-breeding techniques I'd read up on for apples and Granny Smith came along and she told us to enjoy ourselves because you're only young once.”

Spike almost said “ahh, I see,” just to get her to stop making that face at him; but if years of living with Twilight had taught him one thing, it was never to pretend you knew what she was talking about when you actually didn't. Usually somepony got hurt. “And?”

“You're only young once, Spike!”

“I don't—”

“Because everypony has to grow up—me, and you, and all our friends. And what do ponies do when they grow up? They get new jobs and new lives and start families and move away, Spike!”

There was that edge of panic back again, the one that had convinced Spike to abandon the warm waters of the tub to see what was the matter. The chill air was already making him feel lethargic.

Twilight had no such problem. She turned and bolted back down the stairs, horn aglow, sending books flying around the room.

“It's just like in Fresh Prance of Bell Gardens! At the end all the kids are grown up and they move out to Manehattan and then poor Fly Smith has to stay behind in Canterlot and learn to live on his own! Or in Mathematically-Expressed Ponies, when all the fillies have to take the train home from the Mathematical World because summer vacation is over, even though they might never see their Math-E-pon partners again! Or...”

Spike, who had been cautiously oozing down the stairs and had finally hit the floor, cast his friend and boss a sympathetic look. “Twilight, this might be hard for you to hear. But those are just books.”

“But people grow up and move away in books because that's what they do in real life! Think about it. Rainbow Dash wants to become a Wonderbolt, and if she does that then she won't be in charge of Ponyville's weather anymore, and Rarity has always wanted to live in Canterlot, and—”

“You really need to calm down, Twilight.”

“No I don't! I've been too calm! That's the whole problem! I've been just wasting away the best years of my life being calm all the time!”

“Are you talking about since we moved to Ponyville? Because I'm not sure 'calm' is the word—”

“And... and studying! I've been wasting my life being calm and studying!” Twilight gasped, cupping a hoof over her mouth. Her concentration disrupted, several books which had been orbiting overhead crashed to the floor, making Spike dive for cover. “Oh my gosh I can't believe I just said that.” She turned a mournful gaze on the books she'd tossed aside in her panic. “But it's true. These books will always be there but... my friends might not be.”

When Twilight looked back up, there were tears in her eyes.

“Gosh, Twilight, this has really got you worked up, hasn't it?” Spike said. He might not have a clue why Twilight had gotten so fixated on this, but he could tell when a situation called for a hug. He walked up and wrapped his arms around her neck, and after a second she nuzzled closer to him.

“Even if some of our friends move away, you'll all make new friends, you know? And it's not like you'll never see them again. Like in that song, 'Make new friends, but keep the old, one is silver and the other gold.'”

Twilight's neck went stiff under Spike's arms. “Twi?”

“But nothing gold can stay, Spike!”

“What?”

“Nothing gold can stay! It's in a poem.” [1] A book flew at Spike's head, which he barely ducked in time. Twilight seemed not to notice. “And poets are never wrong!”

“Even the one who wrote those limericks about the stallion from Nantucket?”

This seemed to puzzle the purple librarian. “I... well in a metaphorical sense maybe... What have you been reading?!”

“I don't have to answer that!”

“Okay, fine. I've got to go find Pinkie Pie!” Twilight stood so suddenly that Spike was hurled into a pile of Mane Austen books. When everything stopped spinning, he found himself on the ground, cursing the day that somepony had the idea of paying writers by the word. And Twilight was saying, “If anypony knows how I can have as much fun as possible with my friends as fast as possible, it's Pinkie Pie!” The door flew open and shut, and Spike was alone.

Spike groaned, shoved seventeen pounds of books (both of them) off of his stomach, and took stock of the disorganized chaos which had at least been organized chaos ten minutes ago. Twilight was definitely right about one thing: time was precious. At any moment she might recover her senses, come back, and make him clean up this mess.

So Spike dusted himself off, and, forging his way through the collapsed piles, headed back to his nice, warm, bath.

Twilight sprinted across Ponyville—there was no time to lose on pleasantries, or “taking it easy,” or “not almost goring the mayor.” Ignoring greetings, concerned looks, and several calls for her immediate arrest, she charged towards Sugarcube Corner. City Hall blew past, and the Ponyville Diner, but finally her destination rose in front of her like a giant cupcake (slightly gnawed-on since that whole incident with Cerberus).

She charged through the door and stopped dead.

The bakery had been darkened—lights off, shades drawn against the noon sun—until Twilight's entrance created a column of light streaming in. A sign reading “Closed For Lunch, Back at 3” floated gently to the ground, dislodged by the violence Twilight had just done the door.

In the center of all of this—defying all logic or common sense—Pinkie Pie balanced on her rear legs, standing absolutely still. Twilight hadn't believed that was possible. Normally the pink pony was in constant motion: in fact, the one time Twilight had physically restrained her as part of an experiment (pre-revelation Twilight had maintained that science must be able to learn SOMETHING by studying Pinkie Pie... she just hadn't been able to figure out what), Pinkie's tail had abruptly started twitching out a smooth jazz tempo, gaining speed until it was whipping around uncontrollably. Long story short, it turned out Pinkie could get airborne on tail power alone, and Twilight had been picking broken vacuum tubes out of her ceiling ever since.

So the sight of Pinkie standing absolutely motionless was such a shock that Twilight very nearly forgot to be upset that Pinkie could totally hold still if she wanted to.

“Pinkie!” If Twilight's voice even penetrated whatever Pinkie was doing, she showed no signs of it. Her forehooves remained pressed together, her brow scrunched in concentration, as beads of sweat curled lazily down the front of her mane.

“Uh, Pinkie?”

Pinkie Pie stirred stirred, a second too late to be in response to her name. Eyes still closed, her lips parted, and she whispered, “Surprise.”

“What?” asked Twilight.

Pinkie took a deep breath. “Surprise,” she said, slowly, as though savoring the word.

Twilight blinked.

Another breath. In, out, “Surprise.”

“Pinkie what are—”

A hoof landed squarely on Twilight's shoulder. “Surprise!”

Twilight yelped and tried to bolt and leap into the air and turn around all at once, tripping spectacularly over her own hooves, and turning a perfect 180-degree flip in midair; the perfection of which was lost on her as her back slammed into the floorboards.

Twilight groaned, and opened her eyes to find two enormous blue ones staring back from a distance Spike would definitely have been uncomfortable with.

“Hi Twilight! What brings you here?”

“Pinkie? But... but you were—” Twilight glanced across the room at the spot where Pinkie had been standing and found it empty. The thought crossed her mind that, somehow, Pinkie had developed earth-pony teleportation. Her instincts kicked in, an experiment halfway formed in her head before she remembered that was old-Twilight's way of doing things. She was here for something else.

“Never mind,” she continued, accepting Pinkie's proffered hoof, and pulling herself upright. “What were you doing anyway?”

“Practicing!”

“Practicing what?”

“Throwing a surprise party, silly! The part where you jump out and say 'Surprise!' You have to get the timing juuuust right.”

Well, if there was anything related to partying that Pinkie needed to practice... “So, why were you just whispering 'surprise' over and over?” said Twilight, still missing something.

“Well, duh! You've got to get the basics down before you can do the tricky stuff.”

“Like crossing from one side of the room to the other without passing through any of the intervening space?”

“You know, throwing parties isn't all fun and games. It's just mostly fun and games,” said Pinkie, who was either ignoring her or didn't know what the word “intervening” meant. “There's also hard work! I've got to practice seventeen hours a day to stay in top form.”

“Seventeen hours?” Twilight gaped. “But when do you sleep—and... wait, I've seen you go more than seven hours without... 'practicing.'”

Pinkie blinked. “Wait—I meant half an hour a day. What did I say?”

Twilight looked at her friend carefully. The need to pursue this conversation in a logical manner was throbbing at the back of her head. She pushed it aside.

“Never mind. Pinkie!” Twilight rested her hooves on Pinkie's shoulders. “I need your help.”

“For what?”

“I need you,” she leaned in close. “To have fun with me.”

Twilight had been mentally prepared for something along the lines of Pinkie exploding in a shower of confetti. Instead she shrank back with a sorry look on her face. “Oh, gee Twilight, I'd love to but I've got my practicing, and then when that's over I'm running Sugarcube Corner for the day. And I've got to make sure Pound and Pumpkin stay asleep and fed and changed, and don't create a hurricane in their bedroom that breaks all the windows on the second floor. Again.”

Twilight gaped. Pinkie Pie was... busy? She'd always just assumed that Pinkie was so hard to schedule because she liked to set aside a few hours to randomly construct fortune-telling tents along Manestreet (or chocolate lemonade stands, or that one time, the Tiddlywinks Hall of Fame[2]). And then to argue with the sheriff when he gave her a ticket for diverting traffic flow and conducting business without a permit. Come to think of it, Twilight didn't think Pinkie had ever actually payed one of those tickets...

“Can't you just take off practice?” asked Twilight. “I mean... I was pretty darn surprised. I think you've got it.”

Pinkie frowned. “Sorry Twilight, no can do. You know what they say about practice. 'If you take one day off, you'll know. Take three days off, and the people you party with will know. Take a week off, and the whole town will know.'”

“Is that true?”

“No idea! I've never taken a day off. I'd know.” And with that, Pinkie reared back onto her hind legs, resumed her look of concentration, and inhaled deeply. The words, “Happy birthday... to you...” left her lips in a slow whisper.

Twilight could take a hint. The door to Sugarcube Corner swung closed behind her as she stepped back into the fading afternoon.

Twilight couldn't believe it. Pinkie Pie of all ponies, didn't want to hang out with her. Was too busy. Rarity or somepony else who acquired commitments like new hats, sure, but Pinkie Pie? She'd seen Pinkie drop what she was doing because somepony suggested it was a good day for making life-sized balloon animals. Which had been amusing until the larger ones had absconded skywards with the foals who'd been helping out. And then even after that had been straightened out, Pinkie had had to repay the Cakes for the mixing bowl she dropped when somepony suggested the idea.

But speaking of times when Rainbow Dash had to come to the rescue, Twilight began scanning the clouds overhead as she trotted through Ponyville, careful to avoid the area around town hall. Pinkie might have double-crossed the line from randomness back into order, but Rainbow Dash was always ready for excitement and adventure, and new-Twilight was a fan of both of those things.

It wasn't long before she found one little cumulus cloud that was vibrating up and down, spitting out bits of fluff. Craning her neck, she could just make out a cyan pony with a rainbow colored mane beating at the cloud with her hooves.

“Come on... why are you... so... springy?!” Rainbow Dash grunted, stomping several times. The cloud shuddered, puffs of vapor drifting away on the breeze, then lay still. Satisfied, Rainbow trotted a quick circle and settled down on the flattened cloudtop, closing her eyes with a look of bliss. This lasted approximately one second before the cloud puffed back up, catapulting her into the air.

Rainbow Dash caught herself quickly and glared back down at the offending cloud. “Okay, that's it!” Twilight shielded her eyes as the pegasus dropped into a dive—presently there was a crack of thunder, and rainwater sprayed her face.

When she looked up, Rainbow was in a damp, panting heap on the ground in front of her. A few lonely wisps of fog drifted about her zone of impact, as though trying to escape.

“Hey Rainbow. Rough, uh... 3:15?”

Rainbow Dash shook herself, casting yet more water on Twilight. “Wha? Oh, hi, Twili—” she broke off in an enormous yawn.

“Nice tonsils.”

“Sorry. I'm really overdue for my three-o'clock nap.”

“You nap on a schedule?”

Rainbow shrugged. “Okay, my 'I've been working for 2 hours since lunch' nap. But the clouds are way uncomfortable today. I bet it's that moron Perma Frost running the production line at the factory again, I oughta...”

“Or!” said Twilight. “Instead of flying all the way to Cloudsdale to take out your frustrations on somepony, since you're up anyway, you and I could hang out!” She finished with her most winning smile.

“'M too tired...” mumbled Rainbow Dash. “Sorry. I'm gonna go find a cloud that won't fight back!” she snarled, pointing a threatening hoof at the sky. Well, it was probably meant to be a snarl, at any rate.

As Rainbow flapped groggily into the air, Twilight felt in each tiny gust of wind the crushing weight of time, the heartbeat of the universe pounding on without her. She couldn't let another friend slip through her hooves.

“But—come on Rainbow!” pleaded Twilight, following as closely beneath her friend as she could while trying to keep one eye on street ahead. “There must be something you want to do, right? Oh! There's that new exhibit on the Wonderbolts in Canterlot and Fluttershy said you've only been to see it twice, and this time you could actually read the little placards!”

Rainbow Dash made no reply, picking up speed as she searched the sky for a more comfortable mattress.

“I'll pay!” offered Twilight, as her friend's form retreated further. “I've got a discount—oh, sorry,” she added as she bumped against somepony in her rush to keep up. She might as well have been standing still.

Come on Twilight—fight for your friendships! Eyes locked on Rainbow Dash, she charged forward at a full gallop and slammed straight into the fence that marked Cheerilee's garden. Through wooden slats as impenetrable of prison bars, Twilight watched her friend fly away, and reflected on what an apt visual metaphor the whole situation had become. She wasn't sure what the stars dancing in front of eyes were supposed to mean, though.

Twilight shook herself. “You can probably sleep on the train!” she called, but it was too late.

No! No no no! When life gives you friends who are too busy to hang out, make... friend... ade... Magic!

The thought may have been addled, but the sentiment was there. For an instant Twilight's horn glowed brightly, then she vanished in a burst of light.

Rainbow Dash heaved a tiny sigh of relief as Twilight's pleas died away. It wasn't really like her to ignore her friends, or to turn down an invitation that could be linked to the Wonderbolts in fewer than 3 steps, but last night had involved a lot of Daring Do, and she was really overdue for some sleep. So she flew on in search of an appropriate napping-cloud, confident that her good friend Twilight Sparkle would understand and forgive her. After all, she was Rainbow Dash—everypony knew that if she was occasionally less than awesome to her friends, it was only because she had used up so much awesomeness by being awesome.

Besides, everypony always forgave her sooner or later. Though Fluttershy had held a grudge for a while that one time she convinced her to go into a haunted house. Well, Fluttershy and the pony who'd tried to grab her from behind. His muzzle was almost back to normal now.

Dash couldn't suppress a giggle at the memory—which quickly became a yawn—which just as quickly turned into a gasp and uncoordinated flailing of wings as a burst of light flashed on the rooftop right next to her, throwing her off balance.

“I can't believe you're blowing me off to—whoa!” Twilight's hooves slipped on the slanted roof, and with a faint whump, she fell flat on the apex of the building. Groaning, she tried to get her legs back underneath her, but when even that slight movement sent her teetering, gave up and stayed put, despite the top of the roof digging into her ribcage. “I can't believe you're blowing me off to go sleep!”

“Twiliiight,” Rainbow whined. “Come on, I'm tired. Trust me, you don't want to hang out with me when I haven't had my napping fix.” It was true—without sleep, Dash's usual cheery, happy-go-lucky, unselfish, kind-to-everyone, and all around basically perfect demeanor tended to fall towards the mean part.

Confident that this flawless argument would end Twilght's complaints, Rainbow turned and flew on, only for another burst of light and smoke to deposit the unicorn on the roof directly in front of her. This time, Twilight had made the wise decision of trying to land sitting down, and the less-wise decision of picking a thatched roof to teleport to. Rainbow watched with the closest thing to interest she could muster as Twilgiht fell butt-first through the thatch, hit a support beam, and windmilled her forelegs wildly in an effort to not slip and fall the rest of the way into the house below.

“I told you... I don't... care...” Twilight gasped. “Besides, don't you ever think you're just sleeping your life away? You'll never get that time back, you know!”

“Hey, I don't come to your house while you're studying and tell you you read too much, do I?”

Twilight blinked. “That's exactly what you did last week when you 'needed' me for that baseball game. [3] Besides, at least reading is useful.”

The words pierced straight to the center of Rainbow's sleep-deprived brain. “Excuse me? Did you just knock napping?”

“I—”

“No! Napping is the third greatest thing in the world—after going fast and showing off how fast you can go—and I am not going to stay here and listen to you malign it!”

And with that Rainbow Dash whirled and demonstrated the top two greatest things in the world.

Twilight's mouth hung open, partly from just how badly the situation had blown up in her face, but mainly due to the fact that Rainbow Dash knew how to use the word “malign.” She tried to think if it had been in one of the Daring Do stories.

Wherever she'd picked up the word, the pegasus was flying up and away, so high that even if Twilight could keep up her with her laterally, her voice would never reach. But Twilight wasn't about to give up—she wasn't about to lose a friend, not to time, not to the stupid sky, and certainly not to that same friend's desire to be left alone and go to sleep!

Twilight concentrated on a spot just above Rainbow Dash, gathered her magic, and—

Flash!

There was nothing below her but air, and below that a blue pegasus, and way below that, a nice stand of trees that were quickly rushing towards her, as though for what Twilight imagined would be a very brief, very awkward hug.

“Wait Rainbow, I'm sorry I didn't really mean to—” Twilight gasped out as dropped past Rainbow, who stared after her with a look of utter confusion.

Twilight squeezed her eyes shut, and focused.

Flash! She was back above Rainbow, still plummeting just as quickly, the ground rushing up even faster. “I-just-wanted-to-say-I-mean-you're-really-important-to-and—” she yelled, as Rainbow resumed flying away.

Well, two could play that game. Twilight teleported above Rainbow's new trajectory.
“LookRainbowpleasewouldyoujustlistento—” was all she got out before shooting past her friend.

From the corner of her eye she saw the ground closing in—way too fast—she hadn't actually been thinking about momentum when she—

Twilight channeled the teleportation spell again, but it resisted her this time, she had to pull at it like a taught elastic to bring the magic where she needed it, and all the while the ground was rushing up, closer and—

Flash! She'd aimed high above Rainbow but almost immediately her friend flashed by and was gone. “RainbowHEEEEEEEEELPICAN'TSTOP!!!” Twilight screamed. She tried to pull together another teleportation spell, but her energy was gone, scattered, the wind whipping past so fast now that she knew she wouldn't have time to cast it again, and Rainbow Dash hadn't moved at all to rescue her—why was she just letting her fall? From this height she could—she could probably die! For real! And then she'd never get to tell her friends—

KER-SPLOOSH!

Water raced up Twilight's muzzle and into her mouth so fast that she tried to cough, only to release a stream of bubbles. Without missing a beat she scrambled for the surface. Twilight was not an especially strong swimmer but between panic and some natural buoyancy she managed to get her head above water, where she could sputter properly and besides which take a few deep, life-giving breaths.

She was in the middle of Ponyville lake, mercifully not that far from the shore—and more to the point she hadn't killed herself trying to cheat gravity.

She was so overjoyed that for a moment she forgot all about her quest, her need to see her friends. Almost as soon it came rushing back, and she realized she'd completely lost track of Rainbow, and now she was wet, and rapidly getting very cold, and exhausted, and her entire belly was starting to sting from the impact.

Twilight groaned and began to paddle for shore.

The rest of the afternoon was a complete, utter, unmitigated, unqualified, unadulterated disaster. A visit to Fluttershy's cottage produced nothing so traumatic as the shy pony turning down Twilight's offer of happy friend times—considering Fluttershy's doormat tendencies, a rejection from her might well have been too much to bear—but instead only a closed door and a note:

Dear Friends,

I'm sorry, but I'm not home right now. Barry (the Grizzly who lives the cave in the cliff next to Holly Grove) has just had a big fight with his wife Matilda and I'm off to see if I can get her to calm down and let him back in the cave. Um.

If this note is still on the door, please do not go inside, and do not wait here for me to come back. Barry is very upset right now and I kind of, um, offered to let him sleep on my couch so... please just leave quietly.

I'm really sorry you came all this way—whatever you wanted to see me for must have been very important. If you leave a note I'll try to get back to you as soon as I get back from... the Everfree forest...

-Fluttershy

Twilight read the letter several times, in awe of Fluttershy's commitment to reproducing nervous pauses in note form. She might have gone on longer, never once noticing the actual content of the note, except that a roar and the sound of breaking china from inside the house caught her attention. And suggested she should probably back away. Slowly.

She didn't get to see Rarity either—in fact she only got close enough to the Carousel Boutique to hear some very unladylike remarks about Hoity Toity and his idea of adequate notice for deadlines before giving up.

Any other day she might have gone inside and offered to help, or to give Rarity a few minutes to relax, or at least suggest she close the windows to her workshop. Any other day she'd at least have tried, but...

Twilight sighed and kept going. Beaten.

Spike had eventually tired of his bath and come back downstairs. When he did, and found that Twilight was still out on her friendship quest, and the library was still an unholy mess of unshelved books, he decided that he'd had quite enough idle relaxation for one afternoon. It was time to get serious about taking a nap. It was time to assemble... the ultimate napping configuration! After all, he might never get another chance.

And so it was that when Twilight shot through the door into the library a few hours later, she ran directly between two large stacks of books, caught her horn on a makeshift hammock, and dumped Spike flat on his face.

“Ugh... Twilight, I was trying to—” Spike cut himself off with a gulp, fearing a lecture about the proper use of library materials was on the horizon.

Twilight, however, seemed entirely uninterested in the twin peaks of weighty tomes and the blanket suspended between them. In fact she was plowing a trench through the scattered books on the floor without a second thought for her muddy hooves or still-damp mane, which was curling at odd angles as it dried without the benefit of a brushing. Spike couldn't help noticing that she'd acquired a bit of a twitch in her tail as well.

“Er, are you okay Twilight? You look all wet.”

“Oh, I fell in the lake chasing Rainbow Dash.” Spike blinked, opened his mouth to ask the question, but was silenced by an outburst from Twilight. “It was awful Spike! Nopony wanted to spend time together because they were too busy! We're growing apart already!”

Spike scratched the scales at the back of his neck. “Er, are you sure you're not overreacting? Just because everypony was busy today doesn't mean they won't have time for you ever. It is pretty unlike you to drop in unannounced.”

Twilight's jaw dropped. “You... you think everypony was always this busy, and I've just been too buried in books to notice?”

“Well, I'm not sure I'd say it quite like—”

“And now we're all getting busier and we've got even less time for each other and I'll never see them again!”

“How does that—?”

“There's so many things I have to tell them still!” Twilight gasped, collapsing in a heap. “And so many things to do. We've never all sat out in a field and watched the sunset, or, or gone on a road trip just to see how far we could get before we had to turn back—”

“Wait, I thought you hated sitting in fields at sunset because of all the bugs? And... road trips for that—”

“I don't have time for your science, Spike! This is serious!” Under the circumstances, Spike decided he was going to let that one go. “We've never even just sat and talked for hours and hours until we didn't even notice how late it was getting...”

“Didn't you and Rarity stay up until like four in the morning last week?”

“Well, yes but that wasn't talking. She was just excited about her new assignment and I was talking about those star charts I found in the archives—the ones that show that the stars used to be in different places, you know, and actually the north star used to be—” for a second Spike caught a glimmer of Twilight's undying love of all things that could put anypony else to sleep. But just as quickly—as though catching herself in a lie—the joy went out of her. “Anyway, that doesn't count. Real friends don't just talk about whatever they've been doing. They talk about... important things. Feelings. Dreams. Stuff that matters.”

“They do?”

“Who's Princess Celestia's number one friendship researcher, Spike?”

“Professor Good Day, chair of the Relationship Studies department at Canterlot University?”

Twilight glared. “That contest was rigged and you know it!”

“All right, all right,” Spike grumbled. “I still say you're overreacting. I mean, if nopony has time to go hang out with you, why don't you try joining in whatever they're doing?”

“Try joining in...” Twilight stopped mid-sentence, and Spike recognized the look on her face as the one she wore for mental calculations. “Of course, that's it! Spike, you're a genius!”

“Yeah, I know,” said Spike, casting a fond glance at the book fort/hammock setup. He'd even found a use for Mane Austen.

Twilight meanwhile had dashed from the room, and a second later reappeared with a full saddlebag across her back.

“Um, but, before you go, what exactly are you—?” Spike began, suddenly concerned as to what he might just have suggested.

“Bye Spike!” said Twilight, ignoring him. “I'll just be teleporting out the back now. By the way, if anypony from the sheriff's office shows up, you haven't seen me. In fact, you're not even home. Okay?”

Spike opened his mouth to protest but there was a burst of purple light and Twilight was gone. Almost on cue the knocker beat against the door. “Miss Sparkle, are you in? I have some questions for you,” called a voice, which Spike recognized as belonging to B. T. Book, Sheriff of Ponyville.

Not here, huh? That, I can do. Spike clambered up the pile of books and crawled back into the warmth and comfort of his hammock. As fuzzy darkness drew up around him, Spike knew in his heart that this was the right decision, and that surely whatever Twilight was up to would work itself out.

Applejack prided herself on being a pony of simple pleasures, and coming home after a hard day's work was one of the best of them. A full day of bucking down apples and carting them into storage had left her sore and aching; but as she trudged up the stairs to her bedroom, stomach full of Granny Smith's cooking, the knowledge that she had only a little while to wait before she could finally relax made each painful step a kind of joy in its own right. No pain, no gain—it was as true of fun as of work.

She shook her head as she recalled Twilight's visit earlier that day, with her wild notions about how to make the harvesting process “more efficient” and creating new apple breeds—as if Celestia had wanted there to be more kinds of apples than were put on Equestria to begin with (though... she supposed if Celestia did Twilight would know). Silly pony. Applejack still wasn't sure why Twilight had run off, though it had been something of a relief. She kept trying to use her magic to help, and Applejack had a sneaking suspicion that it affected the apples' flavor. They were sensitive fruit, apples.

Treasuring the strain, she hauled her last leg up the last stair, pushed the door open, and trudged to her bed. She let out a content sigh as she lowered herself onto the mattress, and for a second just lay there, letting the throbbing in her muscles slowly subside.

Okay, enough fooling around. Applejack reached for the dresser drawer next to her bed, and pulled it open, reaching inside for her—

“Hi Applejack!”

Applejack shut the drawer so fast she nearly slammed it on her own hoof. Her eyes darted across the room to see a smiling purple pony standing in the doorway.

“T-Twilight?! What the hay are you doing in my bedroom?”

“Well, I was talking to Spike about how I could spend more time with my friends—because you know, everypony's getting older and busier and we should treasure the time we have together and make the most of it because one day there might not be any left—and he he said I should try joining in with what you guys were doing, only since you said you were getting up before sunrise so you could start bucking down apples as soon as the sun was up, I figured you'd probably be about to go to sleep now, so I thought maybe we could have a slumber party!”

Applejack's eyes felt like they were beginning to roll around independently of each other as she tried to follow along.

“I brought Scrabble!” Twilight said, pulling the game box from her saddle bag with magic. “Sorry, Apples to Apples got... uh... well we tried playing when Spike had a cold last week, and Princess Celestia hasn't sent it back yet.”

Applejack looked at her friend's hopeful, apologetic, slightly twitchy expression, and accepted a hard truth. She was going to have to get out of bed for this.

She rose, groaning inwardly as her muscles protested (it was supposed to be pain, release, not pain, release, pain again), and lay a hoof on Twilight's shoulder.

“Twilight, sugarcube, you know I love you right? You're about as good a friend as I've ever had, or as anypony could ever want. So I want you to know I say this with nothing but love and respect, but... GET THE BUCK OUT OF MY HOUSE.”

“But—!” Twilight's protests were silenced as she found herself shoved back down the stairs and out the door by an advancing Applejack.

“Now I'll see you tomorrow, okay?”

“But—”

“Goodnight.”

Applejack closed the door, and turned back to the stairs, only for Twilight to appear in front of her in a flash of light.

“But Applejack! I—I'll just sleep on the floor! You won't even know I'm—”

“Twilight, sometimes a pony just wants to be left alone,” said Applejack, once again shoving her friend out the door. “Now you go home and get some sleep.”

“But...”

This time, when Applejack closed the door, there was no flash of light.

Satisfied, exhausted, and rather more sore than she had been, Applejack reclimbed the stairs, got back into bed, and once again reached for the drawer. Thinking about the smooth, plastic object inside she couldn't help but smile. A little extra delay just made it that much more relaxing, right?

Applejack opened the drawer and pulled out a hairbrush.

And Rarity thought she got her mane like this without doing any work. She didn't know whether to be flattered or insulted.

Outside the Apple Family house, Twilight stood staring up at the lone light that marked Applejack's room for a while. She considered teleporting back up there, trying to explain again. It would be easy enough. But...

But Applejack would rather be alone than see her.

The thought was so all-consuming that all she could do was stand and stare, and she didn't even notice the sound of hoofsteps approaching behind her.

When Big Macintosh saw Twilight staring up at his sister's room, a look on her face like she wanted to run and cry and keep looking all at once, he recognized the expression immediately as the mark of a broken heart. So he approached very carefully, announcing his presence with a gentle cough. This produced no reaction, so he tried again.

“Twilight?”

“Huh?”

He wrapped a foreleg around Twilight's shoulder. “Hush now. It's gonna be all right. There's plenty of other fish in the sea, you'll see.”

“Plenty of other... fish?” asked Twilight.

“You'll find somepony else,” Big Mac said, clarifying. Expressions could get away from you sometimes. “Somepony who makes you feel just as special as Applejack. I know it doesn't seem like it now, but trust me, someday you'll forget all about—”

As Big Mac went on talking, Twilight's eyes had grown wider, her face stretching into a look of horror, and now she tore out of his embrace and ran. Big Mac let her go. What she needed right now was time to let her heart heal. Eeyup.

In the meantime, what he needed was to have a talk with his little sis about how she went about rejecting somepony.

Spike marched up the stairs of the Ponyville library with a scowl on his face and purpose in his heart. It wasn't long after he finished his bath that Twilight came bursting back into the library, practically in tears, ran up to her room and locked the door, refusing explanations. Spike had tried to stop her, of course, and had pounded on her door demanding to be let in for nearly a full minute before being seized by magic and—gently—hurled back down the stairs.

He'd decided to let Twilight have her space after that.

But that was hours ago, and enough was enough. Spike knew from ice cream—you let somepony you care about overindulge at their own risk. This had to stop, before it got out of hand—and as Twilight's number one assistant, it was his responsibility.

He knocked on the door. “Twilight?”

The only response was the saccharine call of pop music:

“♫ As we go on, we remember...
All the times we had together.
And as our lives change, come whatever
We will still be friends forever...♫” [4]

Spike sighed, and knocked louder. “Twilight, I know you're depressed and all but you've been listening to that song for four hours! Don't you think you should give it a rest? Twilight?”

Spike tried the doorknob, found it unlocked. That was one good sign, at least.

He swung open the door, and gulped.

At least. Definitely at least.

The great big box that Twilight always kept in her closet, in the back, with several other boxes on top, was sitting just inside the doorway, in the open, for anypony to see. Empty.

The contents of that box were Twilight's secret shame—and right now they were arrayed in a big spiral, each lying open, a configuration that Spike had privately nicknamed the Spiral of Depression.

They were, of course, books. Dozens of them. Math-E-Pon, The Adventures of Brainy Teddy and Silly Silkworm, The Especially Magic Tree House. All with fanciful covers and many illustrations and all written at about a second-grade reading level. With them laid out and arranged like this, Twilight could sit in the center and absorb the nostalgia one line at a time, going back to the days when all a book needed to do to hold her interest—no, to earn her love—was take her anywhere but here.

Spike wasn't surprised to see the box out—though she usually didn't empty it all the way down the Monkeykaupf Monkeys books from when she was just learning to read unless it was a real happiness emergency.

No, the troubling part was that Twilight was sitting in the middle of her childhood favorites... and not reading any of them.

Spike crept the rest of the way into the room, dark with the curtains drawn against the moon and only a mostly-burned candle sitting on the floor. Twilight's mane was matted, her eyes red and swollen, staring off into space. As he entered she broke off humming along to the gramophone and turned—barely noticeably—towards him.

“Hi Spike.”

“Twilight? Maybe you should give the sappy music a rest. I think you've had enough.”

“I'm trying to convince myself it's true.”

Spike blinked. Okay. That was. Wow.

“Hey look, Twilight!” Spike said, seizing a book from the floor. “It's The Adventure of Hypotenuse Castle! Your favorite!” he held up the brightly colored paperback, the cover depicting the heroic Math-E-Pon and their partners facing off against the hooded mass of i-Pon, the negative root Math-E-Pon. [5]

“Don't make me look at it, Spike.”

He nearly dropped the book. “Twilight?” he said, scared now.

“I don't want to look at them. I used to think they could take the place of friends but... they can't Spike. They just can't.” Twilight turned, hiding her face, and the books closest to her slid away across the floor. “What's the point of being nostalgic for a time when you were all alone?”

“O...kay. I'm just gonna,” Spike reached over to the gramophone and cut the teenage singer off before she could continue to idolize her time in high school. After a moment's consideration, he also took the scissors that were on the table next to the bed. “Now why don't you tell me what happened?”

Twilight sighed. “Applejack just wanted to be left alone. I guess I should have figured—nopony wants a surprise visit when they're trying to go to sleep. But...”

“It doesn't mean she doesn't like you Twilight. Even if your friends don't want to hang out all the time, they're still your friends.”

“But they won't be forever, Spike! Someday we're all going to drift apart and...”

“That doesn't have to happen!”

“Yes it does! You remember when I tried to warn myself about the future—you can't change things, Spike. If it's going to happen, it's going to happen, so it may as well have happened already.”

“Twilight Sparkle! That's quitter talk.”

“What does it matter?” said Twilight, sinking to the floor. “Plenty of ponies quit things. The world keeps turning.”

“Well.. well, I'm not going to let you just sit around and mope for the rest of your life!”

Twilight shook her head sadly. “We're all just dust in the wind, Spike.”

Spike gave her a hard look, then started for the door.

“Boats against the current, Spike,” said Twilight, sitting up to follow his progress.

“Uh-huh.”

“Ponies in the surf, Spike!” [6]

Spike shut the door to Twilight's room, nearly collapsing against it. It took every bit of his willpower not to run back in and hug Twilight and try to convince her that things weren't as bad as she thought. But that wasn't what was going to get her better. It wasn't where she needed him right now.

And Equestria needed Twilight Sparkle—the way she was supposed to be. Celestia only knew what the consequences might be if the Element of Magic stopped believing in her friendships. Something terrible could happen.

Elsewhere in Ponyville, six hooded figures gathered around a small table. Shadows danced across concrete walls as the light bulb overhead swung back and forth. The lead figure, seated on a raised chair at the head of the group, waited for the others to settle themselves, then stood. When he spoke it was in the firm tones of command.

“Thank you for coming, everypony. I'm sure you already know why I've called you here.”

“Twilight Sparkle's movements have become erratic,” said the robed shape to his right.

The other ponies all turned to stare at the one who had spoken.

“What?”

“Pinkie, why are you talking like that?”

“Well duh, because the basement is all super-spooky and we've got these creepy black cloaks on and I didn't want to spoil the atmosphere by talking like my normal silly-willy Pinkie-winkie self!” Pinkie gave an emphatic nod, wild, pink curls breaking free from her hood.

“These cloaks really are amazing Rarity,” said Spike. “Thanks for letting us use them.”

“Think nothing of it,” said one of the ponies in the circle, without raising her head from a bit of fabric she was in the midst of sewing. “They were just lying around taking up space—somepony thought black was going to be hot last season.”

“You mean summer?” asked a pony with a stetson over her hood.

“They were certainly hot all right. Anyway they were just taking up space—no! No no no no no!” Rarity cried, furiously tearing out the last three stitches.

“Um, I haven't seen Twilight all day. Is she okay?” asked another pony, whose long pink hair formed a complete—if rather unintimidating—screen across the front of her hood, concealing her face.

“She was super weird when I was trying to nap before,” said Rainbow Dash, pulling her hood down now that the moment seemed gone anyway. “She wanted to take me to a museum. And she insulted napping.”

“She told me I should stop practicing my party moves!” Pinkie added.

“She barged into my house all of a sudden saying something about having a sleepover. I had to kick her out twice.”

“She just invited herself? That does seem rather rude, not like Twilight at all.”

“See, even you think so!” Applejack's hood slipped back as she pounded the table. “Big Macintosh kept acting like I'd done something wrong by kicking her out!”

“Did you tell him you weren't interested in having a slumber party?”

“A dozen times! He just kept saying 'I don't care what y'all call it.'”

The conversation was cut off as Spike cleared his throat loudly. He settled himself back onto the stack of Grim R. R. Swallow novels that brought him to table-height. “Look everypony, this is serious. Twilight thinks that—well she thinks you're all drifting apart, or going to drift apart, and she's really depressed.”

“Why—that's a load of horsefeathers! No offense, RD.”

“None taken. Why would Twilight think we're drifting apart?”

“Because you were all too busy for her today. Not that it's your fault,” said Spike quickly, as a series of worried ran around the room. “She's just gotten it into her head that sooner or later, you're all going to split up, so she was really trying to spend time with you all today, and when that didn't work...” Spike broke off, uncertain whether he should or even could tell the others about Twilight's state when he last saw her. “I've honestly never seen her like this. I'm really worried.”

“But surely Twilight's been lonely before,” said Rarity, her sewing project forgotten. “Before coming here she said she didn't have any friends at all. Apart from you and Shining Armor.”

“Well of course she was lonely back in Canterlot, sometimes, but... she seemed to be okay filling the gap with books. But now that she's afraid she's losing all of you the books don't seem to matter to her.”

If there were such a thing as the sound of a jaw dropping open, the room would have echoed with it.

“Twilight... not reading?” Rainbow Dash gasped.

“Oh dear...”

“This is bad.”

“Super-di-duper apocalypse-by-nutso-Unicorn bad!”

“Spike, tell me you've written to Princess Celestia,” said Rarity, ever the first to acknowledge when a problem was beyond her means.

“Ohhhh yeah.” The dragon held up his right claw, red and throbbing from overuse. “No response. She must not be checking her mail. Which is weird, because it goes right to her, wherever she is at the time.”

“Should we be worried about that?” asked Applejack.

“Probably,” said Spike. “But right now, Twilight needs us. You guys especially. She needs to feel loved and I...” he struggled for what to say. “I don't count. She's not even thinking I might leave. I think if she did, she might really... anyway, it's on you guys.”

“Of course!” said Rainbow Dash, with a sudden burst of enthusiasm. The others looked at her oddly. “That means we get to say the oath right?”

“Rainbow—”

“I don't think now's the time for—”

“Hey, look, we all agreed after last time that Twilight is about one bad day from going crazy and taking the whole town with her, right?” There were reluctant nods from around the room. “And we made a promise to never let that happen, and part of that promise was an oath, and I think that oath is important. Also cool.”

The others sighed.

“I um... I agree with Dash,” said Fluttershy, and not because of the hoof jabbing her in the ribs.

“Very well,” said Rarity. “If you insist. To protect the world from devastation.”

Applejack picked it up, “In brightest day, in blackest night.”

“To save our friend from institutionalization!” added Pinkie.

“And um, to banish madness with hope's light.”

Rainbow leapt into the air and shouted, “When danger rears, to kick its butt! No—wait, I thought of a better one last week—”

Spike ignored her and went on. “To be there for Twilight no matter what.”

“Anypony'd who'd hurt her had better flee—” said Applejack.

Rainbow, recovering, yelled, “Because we are—”

“The Society for Protecting Twilight's Sanity!”

For a second the room was alive with energy—with magic—and six black cloaks billowed open, exposing the puffed out chests and resolute hearts of five brave ponies and one dragon, who would do absolutely anything for their common friend.

“Did... everypony just feel a draft?” said Fluttershy.

Pinkie's eyes grew wide. “Oh no—”

There was a roar of wind from upstairs, and a crash of shattered glass.

“POUND! PUMPKIN!” yelled Pinkie, bolting from the room.

The remaining ponies stared at each other for a moment, then looked to Spike, who nodded thoughtfully.

“All right everypony, listen up. Here's the plan...”

Spike bounded up the library stairs and threw open the door to Twilight's room. “Hey Twilight, guess what?” He was greeted by a sudden flurry of activity, thin paperbacks whirling through the air, borne by magic. In the center of the storm Twilight abruptly sat up, giving him a look of wide-eyed innocence. But then, as though remembering something she'd almost forgotten, her expression drooped.

“Twilight?” asked Spike, unsure what to make of this. “Is something the matter?”

“What? Oh, no.” Twilight glanced up, apparently surprised to find a cluster of books floating through the air in front of her. They shuffled slightly and drifted back to the ground. “I mean, just... the same.”

Spike beamed. “Well, I've got good news! I managed to get ahold of everypony, and they're going to spend the whole today with you tomorrow! They're all still busy with stuff, but they said they'd be glad to have you along for company. So I figured in the morning you could—”

“Oh. That's great, Spike,” said Twilight slowly.

Spike's smile faded. He'd expected her to be a bit more... cheered up. “Are you okay? Did something happen while I was gone?”

“No, no, I'm... I'm fine. I'm happy that you went to that much trouble. Really.” She shot a glance at the clock on the dresser. “And way past your bedtime, too. You should get to sleep.”

“Um... okay. Do you want me to stay in here tonight?”

“No, that's okay. I'm just gonna be up here listening to sad music and... um... reading, and you don't want me getting you all depressed too.” The gramophone kicked on, starting up “Friends Forever” again, as Twilight buried her muzzle in one of the books next to her. “Oh PowerSetPon, how could you even think that Blues Harmonica would ever forget you? He'll never say it, but you're his best friend.”

Spike was fairly certain that that book had been an Especially Magic Treehouse adventure. “Twilight, seriously, I don't mind staying,” he said, taking a few steps closer. “In fact, I think maybe I should—”

“Oh come on, Spike!” Twilight said, mustering something like a laugh. “I'm just depressed, not crazy. I don't need you watching over me like I'm gonna fly off the deep end and hurt somepony.”

Spike regarded Twlight carefully. “All—”

“Okay, so, goodnight!” Before he could reply, Spike was lifted and deposited outside the door, which promptly closed in his face.

He stood there scratching his head for a moment, then shrugged. Maybe Twilight was more resilient than he thought. Maybe all she needed was time.

“Goodnight, Twilight,” he called to the door, and then turned and walked back to his own room.

As she heard his footsteps fade, Twilight heaved a sigh of relief, withdrawing the large roll of parchment she'd been hiding behind her back.

Spike was right about what he said earlier. She hadn't been acting like herself. She was Twilight Sparkle. The Princess's star student. Wielder of the Element of Magic.

And if there was one thing she knew how to do, it was make a plan.

She couldn't have told Spike about it. Not yet. It wasn't ready, and it would only make him more concerned. He could be such a worrywort. And this had to be a surprise.

She opened up the parchment and beamed at the title line, written in neat cursive:

Already it was shaping up as her most brilliant idea yet—and her brain was still alive and buzzing with ways to improve it. But before that...

Twilight put an ear to the floorboards and listened carefully for the sound of tiny snores. Satisfied, she flipped over the record on the gramophone.

The pop-y tune cut off, and ominous organ music filled the room as Twilight Sparkle threw back her head and laughed. [7]

This was going to be perfect.

[1] “Nothing Gold Can Stay” by Robert Frost.

[2] A game which, played without hands, requires a tremendous degree of skill, Tiddlywinks is a highly competitive, often brutal sport among Ponies. Sadly, in one of the last vestiges of racial segregation in Equestria, unicorns remained banned from professional play.

[3] A game which, played without hands, requires a tremendous amount of emergency dental work. In one of the many instances of blatant hypocrisy in Equestria, unicorns remain banned from professional play and highly desired for intramural games.

[4] “Graduation – Friends Forever” by Vitamin C.

[5] Who, as it turned out, was a figment of the main character's imaginations caused by exposure to poison dream-spores. Twilight liked this book the best out of the series because the brainiest of the group was able to deduce i-Pon's non-existence when he and his duplicate merged to NegadraPon, who, as everyone knows, has no square evolutionary predecessor.

[6] An actual band. I'm not joking.

[7] All Vitamin C singles have one track of ominous organ music on the B-side. It's in their contract.