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Chapter 3

Lose Yourself, Part 3

For some reason, everything seemed more beautiful to Spike than it ever had before. The leaves in the trees rustled together in peaceful music as the cool November wind blew through them. The crickets joined the leaves in their song as they chirped and clicked away in the grass around him. And suspended above it all was the thinnest sliver of a moon, bathing everything in a pale, iridescent light. Spike sighed happily to himself as the events of the past few hours played through his mind like a movie. The overpowering sights, smells and sounds of the Split Hoof; The feeling of wonder and amazement as he watched Sweetie Belle throw off her quiet, timid mask and cut loose on the stage; The wonderful half hour after the show, when the two of them had made out in the grime and filth of a back alley; Her radiant smile as she kissed him goodbye, then turned and went home. Spike had probably had better nights in his life, but at the moment he couldn’t remember any of them.

As the library came into view, Spike steeled himself for a lecture. The fact of the matter was that he had left the library unattended to go out and see Sweetie Belle, even though he had told Twilight that he would take care of the place while she was out. If he had learned anything during his years with Twilight, it was that she did not like to shirk her duties, and that she expected the same dedication from everypony else. Spike stopped to check his watch: 12:28 AM. Yup, Twilight was going to be pissed. But when he looked up from his watch at the library, he noticed something strange: all of the lights were off. If she were going to lecture him, Twilight wouldn’t have just left the library dark like this. What was going on?

With a feeling of growing apprehension, Spike eased the library door open. The place was completely dark. Had Twilight gotten tired of waiting for him to show up and just gone to bed? No sooner had he thought this than a strange sound reached his ears. From the upstairs level of the library, where Twilight’s bedroom was, came a soft, rhythmic creaking sound. Spike thought he could hear Twilight crying, too. His apprehension only getting worse, Spike crept up the stairs to see what was going on. As he got closer to her room, the sounds became clearer; Twilight wasn’t crying, she was…moaning? What the hay was going on in there? Spike climbed the ladder and lifted the trapdoor to Twilight’s bedroom a few inches, just enough to get a glimpse of what was happening. What he saw almost made him fall off the ladder in shock.

The creaking sound was Twilight’s bed rocking back and forth. As for Twilight’s moaning, the reason for that was all too apparent. She was lying on her bed, but she wasn’t alone. That wuss of a stallion that she called a coltfriend was on top of her, licking her neck, rhythmically thrusting himself into her. They moved more and more frantically, both of them moaning louder and louder, until in the same moment of burning release they both screamed out each other’s names. Spike was surprised that all of Ponyville wasn’t awakened by the noise. He suddenly felt unspeakably dirty and ashamed of himself. He quietly let the trapdoor close then crept back downstairs to his room.

The noises from Twilight’s bedroom had subsided, but Spike could still see Twilight and her coltfriend going at it like a couple of animals in his mind. He felt sick to his stomach. He knew that he had no right to feel this angry, this sickened with Twilight. After all, it was her life, and he and Sweetie Belle had been doing something very similar (if less hardcore) not too long ago. But knowing that didn’t get rid of the growing lump of resentment in the pit of Spike’s stomach. Twilight had probably been glad that he wasn’t home, given how things had ended up happening. What would she have done if he had been home? Would she have even cared if he had been home? Even though he knew that he was being unfair, Spike just couldn’t make himself stop thinking that Twilight really didn’t care about him anymore.

Half an hour later, Spike was lying on his bed, still feeling angry at Twilight. She and her coltfriend were back at it again, if the moans and sighs filtering down from upstairs were any indication. The sounds were like nails on a chalkboard to him; with every girlish squeal that he heard, a little more red seemed to creep into his vision. Buck it. I’m not staying here another damned minute. He thought to himself. It looked like it would be another night of walking for him. Spike grabbed his discman, some CD’s, and for no particular reason, a few sheets of paper and a pencil. Then he headed out the door.

The night didn’t seem quite as beautiful now. The leaves and crickets now seemed like an irritating, incessant noise instead of a captivating song, and the wind somehow felt much colder to him. But at least the moon was still lovely. By the time he reached the center of town Spike was feeling marginally better. The empty streets and silent houses made him feel more at home than the library ever did these days. The only pony on the street was some creepy unicorn with a purple mane and a leather jacket, the smell of…blood?!…clinging to him, walking the opposite direction from Spike. As they passed each other, Spike thought he heard the unicorn mutter something about “Little bastard gets some pussy while I’m stuck fucking up jackers”, but he had no idea what the unicorn was talking about and decided to just keep walking.

After a while, his feet had taken him (what a surprise) to the lake by Sweet Apple Acres. He definitely wasn’t going back to the library again, not after what he’d seen there. He sighed to himself, then sat down under one of the trees lining the shore. Spike thought about listening to some music, but decided against it. By now, he wasn’t angry so much as bitter. For no reason that he could think of, he picked up the paper and pencil and began to write. Without him even thinking about it, the words started to form rhymes and beats, weaving themselves into a kind of poetry. As the pencil glided across the pages, Spike felt the bitterness slowly drain out of him. Finally, the pencil still in his hand and the paper still pressed against his knee, he fell asleep.

---

“Spike, where have you been?! I asked you to take care of the library last night and you just disappeared! What was so important that you’d just sneak out?”

That was Twilight, finally delivering her rant. Spike supposed he’d been asking for it, seeing as he hadn’t woken up and headed home until after 10 in the morning. When he’d finally gotten back to the library, Twilight had already worked herself up into a frenzy. Spike had always thought that getting laid was supposed to put you in a good mood the morning after, but apparently having your assistant disappear cancelled that out. Spike had almost reached the “I’m not really listening, but I’m pretending that I’m listening very well” state-of-mind when Twilight said something that shook him to the core.

“Really, Spike! I was up all night worried sick about you!”

It was the first time that he had ever heard Twilight lie to him. For a few minutes, while Twilight continued her spiel, he just stood there feeling numb. Then the numbness was consumed with a steadily-growing rage.

“Shut up.”

If he hadn’t been so angered, Spike might have laughed at the expression on Twilight’s face. She looked like she’d just been slapped across the face.

“Excuse me?!”

“You heard me, dammit. I know that you’re lying when you say you were up all night worrying about me.”

“But Spike, I was worried about-”

“STOP LYING TO ME! Dammit Twilight, I came home and found you upstairs with him! THAT’S how I know that you weren’t up all night worrying about me; You were up all night getting reamed by that bucking pansy that you call a coltfriend!”

“You…You…saw us?!”

Twilight’s face wasn’t comical anymore. She had grown pale as Spike emptied out his rage; she looked shocked and hurt and guilty all at once. When she spoke her voice was cracked and it looked like she was about to cry.

“H-…How could you just…watch us?! What m-made you think y-you had the right?!”

“What made me think I had the right?! Are you serious?! This is my house too, Twilight! And you just decide to bring him home, to take him to bed with you, without even thinking about whether I might come home and find you going at it?! What the hay?! What would you have done if I had been here? Would it have made any difference? With all the noise you two were making, I would have known what was going on anyways! So why do you care that I saw you, huh?! What difference does it make?!!”

By now, Twilight was in tears. She fell back onto the couch, put her head in her hooves and sobbed. Normally, Spike would have felt ashamed of himself for making Twilight cry. But this time, it was just too much to ask. It almost felt good to see her broken down like this. He turned and went to his room, packed up his things, and headed for the door.

“S-Spike, wait! I…I’m sorry…”

Twilight looked absolutely pitiful. Her eyes were bloodshot from crying and she was folded into the fetal position. Her voice was shaky and cracked. But Spike was just too angered to care.

“Now you’re sorry? Now, after all these years of taking me for granted? Now, after not even acknowledging that I live here unless you need something from me? Now you’re sorry?!”

She winced at every word he said, as if each one was a slap in the face. She couldn’t even make herself look him in the eye.

“This isn’t even my home anymore, not since he came into the picture. Why should I stay if you’re just going to keep ignoring me and treating me like a servant? Give me one good reason to stay.”

Twilight was silent. Spike shook his head in anger and disgust. As he opened the door to leave, he turned to look back at her.

“You know what, Twilight? Go buck yourself.”

Then he turned and left.

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