Small Scale

by Twinkletail


Chapter 8

Anyone else in Spike's position probably would have been a nervous wreck. Here he was, waiting for the judgment of someone he didn't even know to determine whether he would return home to the family that loved him or be stuck here as the forcibly-adopted child of a kidnapper. A nice kidnapper who would probably take very good care of him and love him with all her heart, but a kidnapper nonetheless.

And yet Spike was not nervous. Well, to be fair, he was a little nervous, but nowhere near as much as one might have expected. He knew that he hadn't been brainwashed by the ponies. Even with the seeds of doubt that Celia had planted–intentionally or otherwise–in his mind, he was feeling far more confident and relaxed than others in his position might have felt.

The rest of the previous evening had gone quite smoothly. After a scrumptious dinner of gemstones and french fries, Celia had requested a bit of playtime to relax. The concept of playtime still seemed a little immature for his tastes, but with the knowledge that he would be leaving her alone again tomorrow weighing on his mind, he agreed to a bit of playtime. Besides, now that his vision wasn't obscured by a desperate urge to avoid anything that would make him look more childish, Celia's various action figures were pretty cool. Playtime ended up being quite fun, even though he tried to act like he wasn't having as great a time as he was.

Spike found himself thinking more than once that if he didn't have a family that he missed to get back to, he might have been alright with Celia adopting him. His old life was filled with work and responsibilities. As Celia's whelp, he likely would have had a fair amount of years to relax and be doted upon. He could easily tell that she would be the type to keep spoiling him even into his teenage years. As nice a mother as Celia might have been, though, he never let those thoughts stick around too long. He would take the chores and responsibilities back in moments if it meant going back to Twilight and his friends.

After a nice session of action figures, it was time for Spike to sleep. He found himself displeased when he realized he would have to be put back in the crib, and Celia's promise to get him a nice big boy's bed once he was found to be brainwashed didn't help matters. In the end, though, he decided that dealing with a crib for one more night wasn't the worst thing in the world. If he closed his eyes and kept still enough to not touch any of the bars, it felt like he was just sleeping in a nice, comfy bed. His wish to Bahamut that night was for the shaman to tell the truth. Celia's was the same, though they each obviously had different ideas of the truth.

Celia had woken him up quite early this morning. He had noticed a clock in the nursery, and while its numbers were replaced with some manner of runes that he didn't recognize, they were still positioned in the same manner as a regular clock's. According to the clock, it was "capital T with two lines growing down from the top line and also a horizontal line above it" in the morning. Logic based on clock placement helped him shorten that to "six." That was much shorter to say. It must have been early for most dragons as well, as he didn't hear many other dragons out during the morning roar.

"Are you sure that's all you want to eat?" Celia asked. Spike looked down at his meal. Celia had made him a nice little smorgasbord. The eggs were nice and runny, the toast was buttery and crisp, and the bacon wasn't made of hay. He wasn't sure what it was made of, but whatever it was delighted his taste buds. He would have to ask Twilight about it once he got home.

"Yeah, I'm stuffed," Spike replied. "Couldn't eat another bite." This was immediately followed by a crunch as he popped the last bacon strip into his mouth.

"Right," Celia replied, giggling softly. "You're just so adorable...I can't wait for the meeting with the shaman to confirm that you're staying with me."

Not gonna happen, Spike thought as he took one final bite of egg. He opted not to say it out loud though. As confident as he was, he didn't want to gloat in front of her. He still felt awful about her losing her child. Not awful enough to give his own life up and be her baby, but certainly awful enough to not rub it in her face once it was declared that he could go home.

"Well then," Celia said, getting up. "I guess it's that time then, huh?" She reached out to help Spike down from the chair. Spike accepted the help, half to toss her a bone before he went home and half because without her help, it was a bit of a fall from the booster seat to the ground.

"Now it's a bit of a walk to the shaman's cave," Celia said as she headed to a nearby closet. "And I know you're big enough to walk all on your own, but little legs like yours take much longer to travel that distance. I'll leave the choice up to you, but this would make the trip much shorter and easier." Spike watched Celia, wondering what in the world she was talking about. It took a bit of effort to suppress a groan as he watched her pull a stroller out of the closet.

"I know, I know," Celia said, noting the look of disinterest on his face. "You're a big boy. But even big boys use strollers sometimes. And it's a very long walk, and I know you're still a bit sleepy so you could nap on the way there if you want. But if you don't want to use it, that's fine."

Spike thought it over for a few moments. Agreeing to this very babyish behavior was a big concession for him, but he couldn't help but admit that a nap would be nice. Besides, he was leaving after this anyway. If it would give her that last little bit of cheer, he supposed he could allow it.

"Alright," Spike said. "Strap me in. But don't be all...super motherly or anything, okay?"

Celia looked delighted as she lifted Spike off of the ground. He soon found himself deposited in the stroller, and blushed lightly as Celia brought the strap down and fastened it between his legs. It wasn't the most comfortable thing in the world, but he supposed he could deal with it. It even had a hole cut in the back for his tail to fit through. He wiggled his legs a bit, surprised at how high off the ground he was. He quickly stopped wiggling them when he realized just how childish that looked, but being strapped into a stroller kind of destroyed any chance he had of looking mature and dignified anyway.

"Time to go, honey," Celia said. "And when we get back, we'll get you all settled in. We'll carve your name into your bedroom door, and maybe we'll even go introduce you to my friends and their whelps who are your age..."

Spike rolled his eyes lightly as he felt the stroller begin to roll, tuning out most of what Celia was saying. She was a sweetheart, but he had no intentions of sticking around any longer. The prospect of meeting other dragons his age was interesting, though. Maybe sometime when he came to visit Celia in the future, he'd ask her to introduce him to them. Though considering how childishly she treated him, maybe her idea of "whelps his age" differed from his own.

Spike opted to close his eyes as he was pushed through town. Meeting another dragon's gaze would have been terribly embarrassing, even moreso than just being seen. There didn't seem to be many dragons out and about, but he did hear Celia greet and speak with a few. He held his tongue and continued to pretend to be asleep as he heard the dragonesses she spoke with coo and squeal over "how adorable he was." He did take notice of how Celia would avoid the subject when she was asked where she got him. He supposed that did make sense. These sounded like close friends, and he certainly looked too old to have been hatched recently.

The next thing Spike knew, he was being pushed along a dark cave. He figured he must have actually fallen asleep at some point.

"Are you awake, child?" Celia asked softly. "Did you enjoy your little nap?" Despite the embarrassing words, her voice sounded so soothing and sweet.

"Yes, m-" Spike groggily started. Thankfully, he caught himself before that word actually came out. Celia would have never let him live that down. "...Mmmuch so."

"That's an odd way to word it," Celia said with a grin. Something in Spike's mind told him that she had realized what he almost said, but perhaps it was just his paranoia. If she had realized, then she was doing a good job of letting him off the hook.

"Good morning, Celia," a deep voice boomed, startling Spike from his thoughts. He looked ahead to see the form of a tremendous blue dragon sitting behind an enormous cauldron. This had to be the shaman.

"Good morning, shaman," Celia responded. That answered Spike's question quite succinctly.

"And who is this handsome young whelp?" the shaman asked, stepping out from behind the cauldron and leaning forward to get a better look at Spike. He wiggled a few talons playfully in front of Spike, earning a bemused glare for his efforts. "Not a very playful one, it seems."

"This is Small Scale," Celia said. "Although at the moment, he prefers to be referred to as Spike."

"At the moment?" the shaman asked, raising a brow. "What do you mean by that?" He reached forward and gave Spike's belly a poke, eliciting a frown and a swipe from Spike's talon. "Now he's getting playful," the shaman said with a grin. Spike just grumbled.

"I found him in a town full of ponies," Celia explained. "And I took him home to keep him safe."

"You took him?" the shaman asked, looking rather surprised. "Celia, you do realize that is kidnapping, correct?"

"Finally!" Spike exclaimed.

"I-it's not quite like that, shaman," Celia stammered. "You know what the ponies at the bottom of the mountain do with-"

"Was he found in that village?" the shaman asked. His tone changed slightly, still stern but a bit concerned.

"No..." Celia said softly. Spike could barely contain his excitement. Finally someone was using logic! At this rate, he would surely be free very soon.

"I see..." the shaman said, inspecting Spike closely. "So there's another town of ponies who are stealing our young."

"I wasn't stolen!" Spike shouted, feeling like the hope that had just been so close was drifting away. "Those ponies are my family and friends!"

"And that is what I came here to see you about," Celia said. "He insists that the ponies he lives with are kind and love him like one of their own. I, on the other claw, believe that he's been brainwashed."

"Hm," the shaman mused. "That is a possibility." Spike groaned loudly. This shaman seemed to be nearly as prejudiced as Celia was.

"Indeed," Celia agreed. "So he and I made a deal. We want you to check him and see if there are any brainwashing hexes on him. He insists there are not, but I solidly believe that they are. If he's right and he's telling the truth about the ponies beings to him, then I agreed to let him go back home to them. But if I'm right and he has been brainwashed by the ponies, then he's agreed to stay with me and be my whelp." Spike was beginning to regret that deal, but still he stayed strong. He knew for an absolute fact that Twilight and the others would never do such a terrible thing to him.

"Very well then," the shaman said. "Give him to me."

Spike wriggled uncomfortably as Celia undid the straps on the stroller. He did not like this shaman, and he wasn't exactly fond of the idea of being handed over to him.

"It's okay, little one," Celia whispered to him. "The shaman is very wise and trustworthy." She let out a sigh as she hugged Spike. "I really hope you'll be able to stay with me...but if it turns out that you will be leaving, then just know that I've very much enjoyed having you around, and I'll miss you dearly." Spike sighed softly, hugging Celia as best he could. He didn't want to stay, but part of him would miss her too. At least the non-kidnappy part of her.

Spike was then passed over to the shaman. He was moved over to a table and laid down upon it. Unlike everything soft that he had been placed upon at Celia's home, this table was cold and unforgiving. He shivered a bit as the shaman inspected him closely, waving his claws over him. He raised a brow as a soft magical aura surrounded the shaman's dual horns. He'd had no idea that dragons could use magic in such a way. Maybe he was the dragon equivalent of a unicorn? He did have horns and a lack of wings, whereas Celia had the opposite. As uncomfortable as he was, it was still interesting to learn new things about dragons.

Spike looked over to Celia as the shaman continued his investigation. She looked terribly worried, maybe even close to crying. His heart broke a little for her. She deserved to have a whelp of her own to shower love and affection upon. He just didn't want it to be him. Thankfully, it wouldn't have to be him. Once the shaman realized that there were no brainwashing hexes on him, he would be free to go. He could even talk to Princess Celestia and see if she could help her with-

"Hmmm," the shaman mused. "Yes, yes."

"Yes?" Spike and Celia asked simultaneously.

"Yes," the shaman repeated. "The poor thing's been brainwashed quite thoroughly."

Spike's jaw dropped. It couldn't be...there was no earthly possibility.

"No way!" Spike shouted. "It's not true! There has to be a mistake!"

Celia, meanwhile, did her best to hold her true reaction back for the sake of Spike. She swooped up to the table and plucked Spike up, hugging him snugly to her chest.

"I knew it!" Celia exclaimed. "I know this must confuse you terribly, little one, but the love you feel for those ponies is manufactured. My love for you is real, and I'll do my best to raise you with love and care." Spike struggled and squirmed as his world began to shatter around him.

"Just bring him back in here in two hours," the shaman told her. "I'll have the potion to remove those nasty hexes done by then."

"Wonderful," Celia said. She lifted Spike to her face, giving him a kiss on the forehead. Tears of joy streamed down her cheeks as she smiled at him. "Don't worry, my child. Mommy will keep you safe."

Tears streamed down Spike's cheeks as well, albeit for a much different reason.