Plans Change

by Quill Scratch

Of Gem-Monsters and Lunch

Chapter 6
Of Gem-Monsters and Lunch

Twilight Sparkle, despite what many might have said about her, was not the most organised pony in Equestria, though at first glance this wasn’t the easiest truth to spot. Oh, she might have hidden away behind her checklists and her schedules, but Spike knew that these were not a sign of organisation but a symptom of guilt. Twilight’s life was at its heart as spontaneous as a Pinkie Pie Party and nothing made this more abundantly clear than her sleeping pattern.

For example, this morning Twilight rose at the uncelestial hour of five a.m. – not, as one might imagine, because she had plans for the day that required it, but rather because she had the faintest feeling that she might end up making such plans. After all, Twilight’s sleeping pattern was anything but regular: only yesterday she had been woken by Spike at eight, who was worried that she (and, by proxy, he) was going to miss breakfast. Whether or not Twilight woke up early was almost entirely dependent on whether she had found some new piece of research, novel or other obsession to occupy her night and if no such task presented itself to her in the evening then she would undoubtedly go to bed early in the hopes that a new day would come sooner and present her with something to do.

Spike had heard this line of reasoning many times in his short life, and not once had he been convinced that it made even one iota of sense. To his credit, he maintained a similar opinion on all days, regardless of whether Twilight (and again, by proxy, he) slept in or woke him up before he was properly rested. He knew, after all, that each morning that Twilight woke before sunrise she would always try, at the very least, to let him sleep in and he could hardly blame her for accidentally setting off an explosion at six o’clock in the morning.

Okay, he could, but he realised some time ago that criticising Twilight’s research meant no gems for a week and that wasn’t a punishment he was willing to take.

Grumbling as the third shockwave trembled through his bed, Spike pulled his head out from under the pillow and officially gave up on trying to get back to sleep. With a sigh of regret he threw his blanket off and stretched, yawning as he saw the morning sun’s first light peeking through the window. Twilight’s bed was unsurprisingly empty and from what he could hear of the explosions Twilight was probably in the basement.

Spike wandered into the kitchen, checking the shelves and cupboards as he did so for any missing items and making a list of shopping for the day, which he pinned to the fridge with a magnet. Living with Twilight meant certain habits had rubbed off on the young dragon, and list-making was by no means the least of them.

Satisfied that everything was in order, Spike pulled out two bowls and set about making a salad for Twilight’s breakfast – nothing particularly fancy, just a few leaves of lettuce and slices of tomato, since Twilight was probably too busy to care too much about the diversity of her breakfast. He made himself a similar bowl, looking over his shoulder at the door to double-check that Twilight wasn’t coming upstairs before adding three small gemstones (no rubies, unfortunately, but a couple of cheap amethysts and a shard of lapis lazuli would keep the cravings at bay for a few hours, at least) to the top. Leaving his bowl in the fridge, he picked up Twilight’s and wandered down the stairs to the basement, pausing mid-way to hold the bowl steady as the tree shook around him.

“I made breakfast,” he called as he walked into the underground laboratory, before stopping in his tracks and staring at the complex apparatus his adopted sister had built. He wasn’t entirely sure how Twilight had managed to get any of this down here – it certainly wasn’t there last night when he was curled up with a comic and a small bowl of gems while Twilight slept – as most of the parts seemed far too large to fit through the tiny door. Whatever Twilight had built, it was gigantic, filling the room with clear plastic tubes that carried oddly-coloured liquids (was that one glowing?) to and from three different consoles and a vat-like pool. Some of the tubes went through small devices attached to the walls, at least one of which was emitting bright orange flames while another was covered in a thin layer of ice.

Twilight was standing at the very centre of the giant device, tubes flowing around her as she focused her magic on the various levers and buttons on each console. Her mane was lightly singed and great beads of sweat clung to her brow beneath the furiously-pulsating, sparking aura about her horn.

“Morning Spike!” she called cheerily. “Thanks, I’ll be over as soon as it’s safe for me to put this down.” Spike looked up to see a large metal spider floating above Twilight’s head; a container with eight tubes poking out of its midsection at equal intervals. It was held in a field of purple magic and was tilting dangerously this way and that. Spike gulped. “Leave the bowl on that desk, will you?” Twilight added with a smile.

Nodding, Spike edged over to the desk in question and placed Twilight’s breakfast down upon it gently, before sprinting out of the basement as fast as his small legs could carry him. One of the many things he had learned from years living with Twilight was that when an experiment looked as if it might go wrong, the best thing to do was get out of the building as fast as he could – Owlowiscious had clearly already evacuated when the tree first shuddered twenty minutes before, since the ever-present owl was nowhere to be seen.

Bowl of salad retrieved, Spike sat with Twilight in front of Golden Oaks library, a sign attached to the nearby post that read: ‘Closed for Maintenance’. All the doors and windows were flung wide open and billowing clouds of multi-coloured steam poured out of them.

“I was close, Spike,” Twilight moaned between mouthfuls of lettuce. “If I could have held the Spectral Refraction Container up for just a few minutes longer I would have synthesised a rainbow!”

“That’s great and all, Twi,” Spike replied, “but you can’t just go and fill the Library with toxic gas because you think you’ve worked out exactly how to copy the pegasi’s closest-guarded secret. Our house is a state-run service; you can’t just close it down for a day on a whim.”

“But think of the improvements that we could make!” Twilight exclaimed, not noticing the passers-by who were staring at her strangely for her sudden outburst. “Artificial rainbows mean that we would not need to rely on the limited natural sources currently used in rainbow production. Dash tells me that some of her bosses in the weather business are worried that we might not be able to keep producing rainbows at the rate required and they may need to be taken off the weather schedule for a few months.”

“I get that, Twi-”

“And of course some of them started proposing that Dash herself would be roped in as a substitute, since her contrails are rainbow-coloured and she is capable of performing a sonic rainboom,” Twilight continued, her eyes both lit up with excitement and, at the same time, blank, staring into space, “and whilst I admit that would be a solution, it would put so much pressure on Dash – she’d have to fly all over Equestria to deal with multiple weather teams just because someone decided they’d need a rainbow scheduled that day, not to mention that it would keep her constantly travelling and never give her a chance to visit her friends here.”

“Aren’t you overreac-”

“So of course I couldn’t possibly let that happen,” Twilight insisted, “and I started to look into the magical theory behind pegasus contrails. They’re actually a part of pegasi inherent magic, which meant that I wouldn’t be able to directly replicate their effects. But that didn’t mean that I couldn’t try to create a similar effect…”

“Twilight, do you remember when Trixie came to Ponyville?” Spike said, filling his voice with as much command as he could muster (which, being a baby dragon, was not an awful lot). Twilight shuddered for a second, closing her eyes and really looking at Spike. She frowned, and then nodded. “Remember how Dash sprayed water around herself and there was that little rainbow around her? That didn’t look particularly magical, and seems much easier and safer to do that.”

Twilight’s eyes went wide and her lips spread into a grin, just as Spike felt a familiar, uncomfortable sensation in his throat. Burping a small jet of green flame, Spike flung the two scrolls he had received in Twilight’s direction. Surprised and caught off guard, Twilight barely managed to catch the scrolls in her magic before they could hit her in the face; blinking at the parchment held just in front of her nose, eyes slightly crossed, she froze for a second, not quite able to process the information she had.

After a moment, Twilight unravelled the first and larger of the scrolls, eyes devouring the text on it. Spike leaned across the table.

“What is it, Twi?” he asked, grunting as he stretched his small frame.

“It’s strange,” Twilight muttered, “some sort of spell.” Curious, but unable to see the spell formula (not, of course, that he would understand it if he did – Spike left the fancy magic to the unicorns), Spike grabbed the remaining scroll that was still held in Twilight’s magic, tugging it out of the magenta aura with surprisingly little effort. Unravelling the parchment, he cleared his throat.

“My Dear Twilight,” he read, “Your presence is required in Canterlot this afternoon for a meeting of utmost urgency. Included with this missive are train tickets for the journey and a spell formula which I have no doubt you are already studying in earnest. Do not attempt to cast the spell before our meeting, but feel free to see what you can make of the formula. Please do not be late; the fate of Canterlot, and possibly Equestria, may rest upon the outcome of this very meeting.”

Spike looked up. The Princess’ messages were rarely about such important issues, and she was prone to downplaying danger in her letters; whatever the danger was, Spike was sure that this time it was very, very real. Twilight was looking on in shock, the spell formula floating, ignored, in her magic. They sat a moment in silence before Spike picked up where he left off.

“Your brother is keen to meet with you this afternoon, as well, to discuss upcoming family events. I would ask that you stop to check in on him while you’re here – and your parents would appreciate a visit, too.”

Twilight frowned. “Why would she go from discussing matters of national security to suggesting that I visit my family?” she asked, confused. “And why couldn’t Shining just send me a letter of his own?”

Spike shrugged, rereading the letter silently. “I dunno, Twi. Maybe he’s been extremely busy with his duties lately – he would be quite busy if there was a danger this important, wouldn’t he?” Twilight’s eyes widened with surprise.

“Spike, when is our train?” she said, a hint of panic setting into her voice. Spike couldn’t help but notice that her obsession with rainbows seemed entirely forgotten. Pushing the thought from his mind, he picked up the train tickets (two, he noticed – clearly Celestia expected him to join her.)

“Just after lunch,” he said, glancing over his shoulder at the clock tower in town. “We’ve got three hours to wait.”

Twilight nodded, returning her gaze to the scroll she held floating beside her head. She muttered something too quietly for Spike to hear. Knowing better than to distract her from reading sent by the Princess, Spike instead took a moment to think about the letter, before his stomach gave a small grumble. Glancing at Twilight, and deciding that she probably wouldn’t notice if he disappeared for an hour or so, Spike slipped off quietly to Sugarcube Corner.

Something seemed to be missing from the pastry parlour, but Spike couldn’t quite put his claw on what it was. Still, he approached the counter and stood patiently behind Bon-Bon, who was taking forever to decide between the various doughnuts on display. Despite his hunger and general lack of patience, Spike was too distracted to even consider making some kind of remark to get her to hurry up – instead, his thoughts were focused on the danger Celestia had mentioned.

It was not unusual for Spike to panic unnecessarily at unknown dangers (another trait he had picked up over years of living with Twilight), but this time something seemed to be making his fears all the more likely. He was worried and scared and hungry, and though he wasn’t sure what the spell Celestia had sent Twilight had been he did know that Celestia had never seemed to want Twilight to learn a spell with such urgency.

So absorbed in his thoughts that he didn’t notice Bon-Bon buy her box of doughnuts and leave, Spike had to be nudged into placed at the counter by the stallion behind him before he realised it was his turn to order something.

“Something troubling you, dear?” Mrs Cake asked kindly. Spike shook his head, though Mrs Cake was clearly not convinced. “Very well. What can I do you for?”

“I’ll have a strawberry milkshake,” he said, tossing a handful of bits onto the counter, “and could I get a sapphire cupcake?” He pulled a small sapphire out of his backpack and offered it up to Mrs Cake tentatively. The blue mare smiled.

“Of course, dear. I’ll bring them over to your table, shall I?”

Spike nodded and walked a little way away from the counter, looking around the cafe. Despite it being early morning, there seemed to be very few empty tables in sight. Standing on his toes to get a better view, Spike caught sight of three young fillies sitting at a table for four and decided to wander over and say hello.

“-an’ then the two of ‘em start hoof-wrestlin’, right there in the mud!” Scootaloo nearly fell off the chair she was sat on, while Sweetie Belle, who sat next to her, shuddered at Applebloom’s story before looking up.

“Hi Spike,” she said, her voice squeaking like one of Winona’s chew toys. Applebloom turned to face Spike and smiled in greeting; Scootaloo, still laughing, just dropped her head against the table with a loud thud which made Spike wince and several ponies at nearby tables looked around.

“Hey girls,” Spike said. “Do you mind if I join you?” Applebloom glanced at Sweetie Belle before shuffling along the bench she was sitting on, making space for Spike to sit with her. “Thanks.” Spike climbed into the seat, frowning at Scootaloo who was by this point in tears.

“Scoots, my story weren’t nearly that good,” Applebloom said, one eyebrow raised in a perfect look of incredulity. Scootaloo looked up, still barely containing spasms of laughter.

“Hoof-wrestling,” she said after a short pause, before bursting into more laughter. Applebloom and Sweetie exchanged a knowing look before turning to Spike.

“Sorry about this,” Sweetie said. “She’s usually better company. How’re you doing?”

“Oh, the usual,” Spike replied with a sigh. “Twilight’s almost blown up the library and Princess Celestia’s sent her a message asking her to try to learn an impossibly complicated spell before we go to Canterlot this afternoon, so I decided to get out of the way for a little while.” Even Scootaloo was staring at Spike after that.

“You’re going to Canterlot?” Sweetie asked excitedly, the first to break out of her stupor and speak. Her eyes glazed over and Spike swore he could see five-pointed stars swirling in them as she lost herself in the image of the upper-class world Rarity had no doubt painted in her mind.

“How can you be so calm talkin’ ‘bout y’all’s house nearly bein’ destroyed?” Applebloom asked. “If somethin’ were to nearly crash into our house, I wouldn’t be nearly so relaxed.”

“I’d be more worried if a week went by without Twilight nearly destroying the library, if I’m honest,” Spike replied. “‘Cos that’d mean she’s been working on something big. And big things cause more damage.” Scootaloo nodded at that one.

“It’s just like our crusading,” she said. “If we go too long without doing something even a little dangerous, we end up doing something extra dangerous to make up for it and causing more damage than we would have done.” Applebloom nodded thoughtfully as Sweetie Belle snapped out of her reverie.

“Only unlike our crusading,” Sweetie added, “Twilight is a super-powerful unicorn who can do loads of magical damage.” Spike chuckled as Scootaloo and Applebloom made serious-sounding noises of affirmation. The whole conversation reminded Spike of the way the ponies at Twilight’s book club all built points off each other and made each other’s ideas out to be works of genius, or deep, meaningful sayings that in reality meant nothing at all.

“That gives me an idea,” Applebloom chipped in, the three fillies ignoring Spike’s chuckle as they found themselves wrapped up in their conversation. “What if we were to try to help Twilight clean up the damage she makes?”

“Yeah!” Scootaloo agreed fervently. “We clean up our own mess all the time, so we should be really good at this.”

Spike braced himself for the inevitable chorus of ‘Cutie Mark Crusader Damage Control Ponies’ echoes through the parlour, but to his surprise no such shout occurred. Frowning, Spike looked up to see Scootaloo grinning at the door of Sugarcube Corner and Sweetie Belle desperately trying to look anywhere but at the door, her cheeks now tinted a light pink. He turned to face Applebloom, who was having a silent conversation with Scootaloo that consisted mostly of nods, frowns and silent giggles.

“What’s going on?” Spike asked quietly.

“Oh, it’s nothin’,” Applebloom said, a little too loudly, before leaning over to Spike. “Sweetie Belle’s got a crush on the colt who just walked in,” she whispered just loud enough for Spike to hear, her mirth evident in her grin. Spike turned to look but Applebloom put a hand on her shoulder, keeping him still. “Don’t look – she don’t like us ‘drawin’ attention’ to her.”

“It’s not a crush,” Sweetie mumbled quietly. “I just think he’s cute, that’s all.”

“What’s his name?” Spike whispered.

“Not even Sweetie knows,” Applebloom replied, rolling her eyes. “I think it’s all just Sweetie being silly.”

Spike chuckled at that. It struck him just how long it had been since he’d spent time away from Twilight and her friends and quite how much he had craved the company of ponies, as Twilight would say, “his own age.” Of course, Spike was almost as old as Twilight herself, practically an adult in the eyes of the pony community… if he had been a pony. But dragons lived longer, and “matured more slowly” (whatever that meant – Spike could cook and clean, couldn’t he?) and despite his misgivings Spike couldn’t deny he felt he had more in common with the three fillies than he did with Twilight and her friends.

He needed this time, just a little time away from Twilight, but it was so rarely that he felt he could leave her alone. His chores around the library (mostly self-designated) would have kept him busy this morning and it was only thanks to Twilight’s dangerous love of experimentation that he could be here at all, he realised. Perhaps he ought to be a little less harsh on his adopted sister if she ever woke him up with pre-dawn explosions again.

Glancing at the clock, Spike decided that what he really needed was an hour or two in good company before the train left. Twilight wouldn’t miss him, after all, and he needed the chance to socialise.

---

This spell was without a doubt the most complicated Twilight had ever seen, let alone been asked to attempt by Princess Celestia. The formula sat on the table before her, surrounded by so many scrolls it would be hard to pick it out from among the crowd. Twilight, of course, could spot it instantly – it was the only one that had just the one title.

This was something more, Twilight knew. This wasn’t an everyday spell – there were references throughout the text to ancient history and parts of magical research which had in recent years been abandoned in favour of new models and there was even one part which was explained in a footnote as accessing the aether, which everypony knew had been disproven two-hundred years before.

She had spent the morning cross-referencing the text with her own notes and every book she could find on ancient magic in the library, braving the fumes inside without a second thought simply to get at the next book which might, perhaps, explain how a twelve-fold nexus could be self-referential and somehow self-contained. A good hour was lost to experimentation, trying to recreate smaller-scale parts of the spell, yet no matter what she did she simply couldn’t see what the spell was trying to do – or any way to actually pull it off.

There were just so many things about the spell that didn’t make sense! She’d tried to follow the calculations but every time she did she reached the same answer – and it wasn’t the answer the author said she should be getting. Four times she’d considered that this was a practical joke by Celestia, and three times she’d consulted the calendar to check that it wasn’t April 1st. Twice she’d flagged down Pinkie Pie as she hopped past and asked her if she had forged a letter from Celestia, and on the second time Pinkie had sat down, given the parchment a cursory glance, said something nonsensical about infinite gain and bounced off, singing merrily to herself.

Twilight knew Pinkie Pie about as well, she felt, as anypony could know Pinkie Pie. The mare was entirely unpredictable and her uncanny ability to know things she shouldn’t was downright frightening to Twilight at times. There had been many occasions where Pinkie had known exactly what Twilight wasn’t understanding about a spell and somehow known how to explain the result to her, despite being an Earth Pony with no training in magical theory whatsoever. But this was the same mare who could make canons that fired parties and could somehow convince an entire town to start a party in a library to celebrate the arrival of a mare they’d never met: Twilight was beyond trying to explain Pinkie’s actions.

Still, this time she’d clearly let her hopes run away with her. There was no way Pinkie could understand this spell – it simply defied every known law of magic. Besides, “infinite gain” was nothing more than a theoretical scenario, something to mull over and consider. It couldn’t be done in reality – Celestia and Luna together had tried, Twilight knew, and if they couldn’t do it how could a mere unicorn hope to?

After a few hours had been and passed and Twilight was no further to her goal, she looked up to see Rainbow Dash standing in front of the stand, looking a little bored but at the same time a little interested. She recognised the look as that Rainbow adopted when she didn’t want to be seen to be intrigued by something she felt would ruin her image.

“Heya Egghead,” Rainbow said, “whatcha reading?”

Twilight smiled. “Just some advanced, ancient texts on spell theory in an attempt to understand an impossible spell Celestia sent me,” she said, rolling her eyes as her voice became almost guttural with sarcasm and frustration. “The usual. Yourself?”

“Oh, I was just wondering why the library was closed,” Rainbow said. “I was hoping I could use my day off to re-read some of the early Daring Do books, but…”

“Oh! Sorry,” Twilight said. “We’re just ventilating it. I may have accidentally filled the tree with noxious gas in an attempt to recreate rainbows in laboratory conditions after I read about the shortage of rainbows predicted for the coming years. I’ll go and get it for you – it’s not safe for anypony to be in there right now.”

Rainbow chuckled. “You know, Twilight, you can’t just go and fill a library with toxic gas because you feel like making a rainbow today. It’s kinda a public service.”

“That’s what Spike said-” Twilight replied before freezing still. Her eyes were wide and she was blinking rapidly.

“Twi?” Rainbow asked, the playfulness in her voice fading to worry. “Twilight, you okay?”

“Spike,” Twilight whispered, before cursing and turning on the spot and grabbing Rainbow’s shoulders. “Have you seen Spike this morning?”

“I don’t think I have,” Rainbow replied. Her eyes widened. “Have you lost him?”

“He must have wandered off!” Twilight was breathing heavily, beginning to panic. “Oh, what if he ended up in the Everfree Forest and was attacked by a manticore? Or what if he tries to climb up to Canterlot and falls down a cliff? Or what if he doesn’t look both ways before crossing a road and gets run over by a cart?”

“Twilight!” Rainbow yelled, gripping Twilight’s shoulders firmly. “Spike’s not stupid. He won’t have run off into the Everfree or Canterlot, he’s probably just safe somewhere around town. He’s fine and we’ll find him, okay?”

Twilight simply nodded, not sure she could trust herself to speak. Taking a deep breath, she looked around the streets near the library – no sign of Spike, but that wasn’t a reason to panic. Probably.

“Now if you were Spike and you were bored, where would you go?”

There were a few misses in the search; Twilight suggested that he might have tried to go and see if Rarity, or even Applejack, needed help with their daily chores as she knew that he did not want to feel helpless or useless. Neither Carousel Boutique nor Sweet Apple Acres, however, managed to throw up any leads on Spike’s location.

“I’m afraid I have no idea where poor Spikey-Wikey might be,” Rarity had said. “He certainly hasn’t come here. Perhaps he’s at Applejack’s?”

“Can’t say I’ve seen him,” Applejack had said. “Haven’t seen that little fella on the farm in quite a while. Applebloom’s kept on sayin’ she’s been worried he doesn’t play with any of his friends often.”

Eventually Rainbow suggested (with only the barest hint of defeat in her tone) that they might want to find Pinkie, whose Hide-and-Seek skills were perfectly suited for the purpose of tracking down missing ponies and dragons, though often made it very difficult to find her. Undaunted by this prospect, Rainbow and Twilight headed for Sugarcube Corner, in the hopes that Pinkie might be at work.

By the time they arrived at the parlour there was a queue stretching to just outside the door, the warm, sweet scent of baked goods floating over the line of ponies before them. They couldn’t quite make out who was behind the counter from the angle they were at – Twilight, impatient and jittery, wanted to simply push their way to the front since they weren’t actually intending to buy anything, but Rainbow held firm.

“Let’s just take our time on this one, okay Twi?” Rainbow suggested. “A little time in a line never hurt anypony. Besides, after the morning you’ve had, you deserve a cupcake.” She chuckled slightly, flashing Twilight a grin.

The queue moved forward at the rate that only a queue can, where every second is spent wishing the queue would speed up before you realise, quite suddenly, that you’re already at the front.

“Good morning, dear,” Mrs. Cake said as Twilight and Rainbow approached the counter. “Are you looking for Spike, or after a treat of your own?” Twilight frowned. She was looking for Pinkie Pie, wasn’t she? Why would she be looking for Spike at Sugarcube Corn-

“Hey Twilight!” Twilight turned in the direction of the call, to find her eyes greeted with the sight of her assistant at a table with the three fillies the town had come to affectionately know as the Cutie Mark Crusaders – whenever they weren’t crusading, at any rate.

“Spike!” Twilight cried. “I’ve been looking all over for you!” She rushed over and pulled him into a tight hug, which at first he started to return before desperately trying to pull himself out of. When he had finally extracted himself from Twilight’s choking embrace, he stood up and gave her an incredulous look.

“Twilight, I left a note right in front of you!” he said, as the fillies around him giggled. Twilight couldn’t help but notice Spike’s slightly nervous glance at the trio, and the slightly warmer tone of his cheeks. She would have to have a word with him soon. “Anyway, I was just about to come and find you. Our train leaves in half an hour and I know how long it takes to get you away from your research.”

Twilight took a moment to just stare at her assistant. Why she hadn’t checked for a note left by Spike was beyond her, though was probably related to her tendency to overlook obvious solutions in blind panic. Furthermore, her initial reaction (to tell Spike off for implying that she would get so lost in her research she’d forget about him) was rather moot as she realised that she’d left him for three hours before bothering to check up on him. She settled for scowling, instead – that always did the trick.

“Alright, Spike,” she said, almost growling with the displeasure of giving in, “let’s go catch this train, shall we?”

Spike nodded, and, bidding his friends farewell, hopped down from the stool and wandered over to the door, sapphire cupcake in hand.

“Did you work out what that spell was meant to do, Twilight?” he asked as the door swung closed behind them, blasting one final waft of warm, sugary air over them. Twilight smiled lightly to herself.

“No, Spike,” she said. “But whatever it is, I get the feeling that Princess Celestia is getting pretty desperate. She’s never asked me to do anything this complicated before.”

Spike frowned. “Does this mean something bad’s gonna happen?” he asked, nervously nibbling at the icing on his cake. Twilight stopped in the road and turned to face Spike, picking him up in her magic and placing him on her back, giving him an affectionate nuzzle as she did so.

“Whatever is about to happen, Spike,” she began, “I promise I’ll keep you safe.”

“Do you know what would be great?” Spike asked, eyes focused on the half-eaten cupcake in his hands. “Imagine if everypony was getting so worked up about a giant gem-monster and all we needed to do to stop it was let me eat it.” Twilight couldn’t help but chuckle at the image of Spike slowly devouring a giant, crystalline monster one little bite at a time. Shaking her head, her fears for the future momentarily forgotten, she began walking once more to the train station as Spike dreamed peacefully on her back of gem-monsters and lunch.