The Day Spike Kinda Cared

by B_25

VII – Of War & Tea

~ VII ~

Of War and Tea

“You know, we've been talking an awful lot about me.”

ISN'T THAT THE WHOLE POINT OF THIS? said Death. DO NOT TAKE OFFENCE, BUT I AM A BUSY PERSONIFICATION, SO I WOULD NOT BE DOING THIS HAD THIS REPORT NOT BEEN A PART OF MY DUTY.

“Is this...is this all you do?”

Death let the quill drop from his fingers onto the desk, looking up at the drake. I AM DEATH. MY DUTY IS MY IDENTITY. THERE IS NOTHING ELSE FOR ME.

“Aw.” Spike shook his head and made a face. “But does it have to be like that? Don't you have off time, friends to have tea with?”

I HAVE NO FRIENDS, AND IF I DID, THEY DIDN'T LAST FOR VERY LONG.

“Why's that?”

BECAUSE I WOULD HAVE COLLECTED THEIR LIVES MOMENTS AFTER. Death sat back in his seat, exhaling. THIS IS THE LONGEST ENCOUNTER I'VE HAD WITH ANOTHER IN SOME TIME. IN FACT, YOU AND I SHOULDN'T EVEN BE TALKING, WERE IT NOT FOR THIS WEIRDNESS THAT SEEMS TO FOLLOW YOU.

“Is that a compliment?” Spike asked. “I feel that's a compliment, that is, of course, you don't like talking to mortals.”

I DO NOT MIND THE OCCASIONAL EXCHANGE, said Death. BUT MY ENCOUNTERS ARE MET WITH SPITE, BEGGING, AND THE SPECIAL FEW THAT TRY TO FOOT THE BILL. DEALING WITH MORTALS IS WORK, AND I DO NOT DERIVE PLEASURE FROM MY WORK.

“I guess very few are happy to see you then?”

ONLY THE BITTER OR THE PEACEFUL.

“So then, what do you do for fun?”

I...BEG YOUR PARDON?

“Fun!” Spike said, sitting up in his chair. “It must be stressful collecting the lives of everypony who dies, so what do you do to relieve the stress?”

COLLECT MORE LIVES?

“What, no!” Spike rubbed the side of his head. He looked around the room, forgetting that it stretched on in all directions to infinity. “There must be something you and I can do down here.”

ARE YOU...ARE YOU TRYING TO DELAY THE INEVITABLE HERE?

“Nah.” Spike scratched his head. “Whatever going to happen is going to happen, so no sense in sweating the small stuff. You seem like a nice guy, and I don't like the idea of you carrying on like this.”

SPIKE?

“Yes?”

I'M DEATH.

“So?”

That surprised Death. He'd never heard such audacity not backed by utter fear. SO MORTALS FEAR ME, OR, AT THE VERY LEAST, DISLIKE ME.

“Doesn't mean you have to lock yourself down here all the time!' Spike gestured over his shoulder at the door he had struggled with. “Why don't you try getting outside some time, off the clock and out for fun? Maybe you'll even make some friends that last longer than a minute!”

I TRIED THIS BEFORE, said Death, AND IT NEVER WORKS OUT WELL. THOSE WITH MAGIC NOTICE ME BUT PRETEND NOT TO, AND NO ONE ELSE ACTIVELY GOES OUT OF THEIR WAY TO SEE ME—SOMETHING HAS TO KILL THEM FIRST.

“Y'know, Death, you and I aren't so different after all.”

YOU ARE A MORTAL, AND I AM NOT, said Death. THAT IS THE BIGGEST DIFFERENCE THAT CAN EXIST—JUST ASK ANY OF YOUR UNTOUCHABLES.

“I may be a mortal,” Spike said, “but that doesn't stop us from being same in at least one aspect: outcasts.”

OUTCAST? said Death. YOU TAKE MORE FOR AN OUTCAST?

“Of course I do!” Spike said, leaning forward. “Why else would you have yourself locked down here, your every encounter with someone who is dying. You try to be among ponies while they're alive, and they only give you the stink eye!”

YOU PRETEND TO KNOW WHAT IS LIKE FOR DEATH TO BE AMONG LIFE?

“No,” said Spike, “but I know how it feels like to a dragon among ponies, to be so different while everypony else appears the same, constantly stressing how someone like you can fit in.” He sighed, falling back in his chair. “It hurts to be alone, even more so when you're at a party where everyone else is happy.” Spike then chuckled. “Not everypony looks past that fact that you're a dragon or Death, but the ones that do?” Spike looked up at Death. “They're like us, deep down, and they're the ones that burn away the loneliness with their joy.”

TEMPORARY JOY.

“Maybe,” said Spike, “but it's needed for permanent happiness.” He looked back to the report, the papers covering the story of all that's happened so far. “And besides, memories are forever, even if forget them from time to time.”

Death was still in his chair. It was hard to see what he was thinking, seeing how his expression never changed. Moments passed, and then, he picked up the quill once more, hunching over the papers so that the drake couldn't see his eyes—the only part of Death that beamed with something.

PLEASE CONTINUE, said Death. IT'S FOR THE BEST THAT WE DO NOT GET SIDETRACKED FROM THE TASK BEFORE EITHER OF US.

“Yeah,” Spike said, any joy fading from his face. “You're probably right anyway.”

Death didn't reply.

Spike continued the tale.

---

“CHOO-CHOO?”

“Yeah,” Spike said, standing on the edge of the cloud. The train hovered just before him, looking sad—that was if it was possible for trains to look sad. “This is looking like my final hope.” He looked over his shoulder, a mass of ponies gathered before a stage. “It's got drinks, good looking stallion, and a band. If she isn't here, then I'm out of luck.”

“CHOO-CHOO!”

“It's been a fun ride as well.” Spike leaned forward, hugging a thin exhaust pipe of the train, which exhausted a faint trail of smoke it response—possibly a train's way of crying. “I'm not just how sentient you are, but I just want you to know that being a train doesn't make you any less my friend.”

“CHOO-CHOO.”

“Be free,” Spike replied, pulling back. He held this left shoulder, recently popped back into place. “You're a flying train—I know a lot of ponies that would pay high bits to have you fly them to places, even get some traveling done while you're at it.”

“CHOO-CHOO.”

“Same to you.”

The flying train flew away, disappearing into the horizon.

Spike wiped a tear from his eyes, unable to handle the sight for much longer and turning around. A mass of pegasus occupied this district of the city, a flat expanse of cloud that was almost its own platform. A large stage stood at the front of it all, currently empty.

“Famous Last Words,” Spike read the banner above, tilting his head in thought. “Now why does that sound familiar?” He shook the issue from his head, continuing through the crowd. Ponies gave him strange looks, some for the sake of a dragon in their midst, the rest because it looked like there was a dying dragon in their midst, but all were overwhelmed by the stressed aura he exuded.were more overcome with the feeling of tenses in the stressed aura he gave off.

Spike mingled as best as he could, describing Rainbow Dash to whoever was willing to listen. The first thing he learned that saying pegasus was useless, having a blue coat equally so, but very few had a rainbow mane without swinging the same way.

More time passed, and more the frustration in the drake raised. He'd be told of Rainbow location at one part of the party, only to find a stallion called Rainbow Bob. It didn't help that his body felt weak, his mind foggy, and the sun further north every-time he looked up in the sky. Only seven hours remained, and he was slowing down instead of speeding up.

'How long do you think you can keep this up?' Greed asked at one point, when the drake's vision of the world began to grow blurry. 'You've never pushed yourself this hard before, and to your credit, you've reached a new high. But keeping at this rate? You're just going to crash and burn.'

“That's okay with me.” Spike found a group of pegasus hurdled in a circle, looking somewhat familiar. That, or he was just losing it. “I can crash and burn after I find Rainbow.”

'You're forcing too much on yourself for the sake of another.' Spike tried to ignore the voice, but shaking his head made his vision wobble. 'Look, kid, I'm the embroilment of a dragon's greed, and even I'm impressed by your selflessness. But it isn't going to last.”

Spike clenched his claw as he felt his mind being over-processed, cursing under his breath. “Shut up shut up shut up!”

'You may have the heart of a pony, but you've got the body of a dragon.' Greed's voice began to fade, allowing the drake back control over his mind. 'You will wonder why you're doing all this for them, that they should be more grateful for your efforts, which strips you of your nobility.'

“Then what am I supposed to do, consent to you!?”

'You are hurting an aspect of who you are,' Greed whispered. 'The key in defeating me does not lie in denying me.'

Spike's mind went silent.

“Yeah, whatever.” Spike groaned as his stomach hurt, pressing a claw against it. The air was getting hotter and stuffy, and the drake was finding it hard even to walk. He shook his head—a great regret—before putting on a social mask and continuing his search.

It didn't go well.

“Dude, are you going to eat me?”

Then.

“Dude, will you party with me.”

Some.

“Dude, you should hit this to relax.”

Spike was in no mood to hit a cloud hammer against a panel.

“Dude, haven't seen her.”

Those were always the worst.

Spike found himself near the front of the stage, leaning against it. A group of mares was speaking close to him.

“Can you girls believe that FML is here!?” the pink one said, wings flaring open. “It's been years since they announced they'd be willing to play here!”

“Hard to blame their delay.”

“How come?”

“You didn't hear?” the green one said. “First heavy metal ban plummet through the clouds during their first concert. The weight of the metal they had on them exceeded the capacity of the spell placed on them.”

The three felt like a joke could be made here, but kept it to themselves in respect to the musicians who risked their lives for their craft.

Something rumbled throughout the stage, causing the drake leaning against it to yelp and stand straight. He turned around just in time to see a pink unicorn pass through the red drapes at the back of the stage.

Spike blinked. This unicorn stood tall, taller than any unicorn he had seen in his life, with a large barrel yet slender and long legs. His mane was a blend of magenta and black, working together in a natural combination.

“Good morning ladies and gentlecolts!” the pink unicorn stopped at the front of a stage, bringing his muzzle before the microphone. “My name is Pop Tart, and I hope you brought your A-game because we're ready to rock!”

A wave of cheers washed across the crowd and toward the stage. They went hysteria when the rest of the band came out.

“We'll begin our first set in five minutes,” Pop Tart said, gazing along the ponies gathered. He loved nothing more than getting them pumped up. “The strong should gather at the front for the mosh pit later, and those 'just here for the music' in the back with the rest of the drug dealers.” He chuckled. “I'm only kidding. Hope you all enjoy the show!”

The crowd cheered in response.

“Wait!” Spike's voice caught Pop-Tart just as he was turning, making him look at the bruised dragon at the front of the stage. “I need to ask you something!”

“Huh.” Pop Tart muttered, walking over to the drake. He looked down. “Never before saw I dragon at one of our shows—mind if we include your name when we say we've had international guests?”

“What?' Spike shook his head, and yet, another mistake. “Look, I need your help.”

“Help?” Pop's eyes scanned up and down his body. “Guy, you need a weekend-long stay at the nearest hospital. The heck happened to you?”

“Flying trains and rainbow factories.” Spike shook his head again—he was nowhere near as smart as Twilight. “Listen, my marefriend is missing, and I think she may have come to this show. I need you to let me use your microphone to call out to her, maybe have someone come up who might have—“

“I'm going to stop you right there because none of that will be happening.”

“Wha—why!?”

“Because I'm under no obligations to help you, and to be honest, it's rude to ask us to do something minutes before we're about to perform.” Pop turned around.

“You can't just turn your back on me,” Spike cried out as he stumbled back. An inky blackness flooded in on the corners of his visor. “My friend may be in trouble. This may be my only chance of—“

“And why should I believe you're telling the truth!” Pop looked back. “Not only that, your missing friend isn't our problem, and thinking that it should be is really pissing me off! Just because you're in need does not mean others have to help you: it's selfish.”

“But...you...have to...”

“We don't have to do anything,” Pop replied, nodding at his fellow bandmaster. The drummer began drumming, and the guitarist played his strings. “It's not selfish to put yourself first; it's selfish to expect others to do so for you.”

Spike went to reply, but his vision went black. He felt himself falling, though the sensation didn't last long as his back rested against something soft. All the pain, all the exhaustion, any feeling or sensation faded from his body as his eyes began to close.

The drake was at peace.

He hated himself for it.

“...gotta....get....up...” Spike wheeze incoherently. “...too much time...has already...passed...”

Spike no longer felt his body as he felt himself slipping away into oblivion.

'Sorry to tell you this kid,' was the last thing the drake heard, 'but this is the one I was right about.'

The drake couldn't reply, hearing only music far, far away.

And then he remembered about the mosh pit.

---

WOULD YOU CARE FOR SOME TEA?

Spike shook his head—it wasn't as much as a mistake in the dark domain “What?”

OR IS IT COFFEE...ALWAYS GETTING THE TWO MISTAKEN.

“Have you, I don't know, had either of them before?”

I SEEN MORTALS DRINK THEM, replied Death. USUALLY, MOMENTS BEFORE THEY DIE, EITHER FROM CAFFEINE OVERDOSE OR POISON—IS POISON A GOOD SWEETENER?

“Not from what I've heard,” Spike said in a strange tone. “But yeah, I'll have coffee if you have a kettle around here—hold the poison though.”

KETTLE?

“Ya, y'know, the thing to boil water?” Spike scratched his neck. “Twilight and I have been getting lazy, so we've been boiling water and having instant-coffee. If you have a percolater or brewer, that will work even better.”

THERE WILL BE NO NEED FOR SUCH PROCESSES DOWN HERE, BOY, Death said, catching Spike by surprise with the pride in his voice. NOTHING AND EVERYTHING CAN EXIST HERE OUT OF IMITATION. WATCH.

Death snapped his fingers. Black liquid flushed up from the ground, rising on the chair and desk.

THERE WE ARE. Death sat back in his seats, arms crossed. TRY A SIP.

Spike stared at his reflection with uncertainty, dipping in a claw and cupping back the liquid, tilting it past his lips. He swallowed, then made a face.

“Death?”

YES?

“This isn't coffee?”

Death uncrossed his arms. NO?

“This is just water that's black.”

THAT'S NOT WHAT COFFEE IS?

“Well, I mean, it is.” Spike tried to recall what made coffee distinct from black water. He snapped his fingers. “Bitter. Coffee is bitter and makes you super hyper.”

HMM. Death snapped his fingers. Spike took another sip.

“Ack!' Spike spat the liquid out, rubbing his claws down his tongue. “Too bitter”

HMM.

Another snap.

Another sip.

“Hey, triple-triple!” Spike repeatedly plunged his claws into the liquid. “Say, because we're drinking it down here, is the sugar just as bad for me?”

NO.

“Oh, good.”

IT WILL MOST LIKELY BE WORSE.

“Oh, suddenly not so good.” Spike let the coffee pour through his claws. He looked back at Death “Say, can you make some cups?”

CUPS? repeated Death. CUPS ARE UNNECESSARY. THE GROUND IS PERFECTLY STERILE, PLUS, THE LIQUID IS UNCEASING, SO YOU MAY DRINK AS MUCH AS YOU PLEASE.

“See, that's the thing,” Spike said. “While drowning myself in triple-triple waters would probably be a worthy death, there are still too many things I need to wrap up before that. Cups are nice because there's a limit on how much they can be filled and always make you feel bad for refilling.”

STILL, AN UNNEEDED FORMALITY, SINCE YOU AND I HAVE BROKEN THE ICE, AS YOU MORTAL LIKE TO SAY.

Spike looked between his legs first before replying. “Maybe, but formalities are familiar, and that helps calms ponies in dealing with the unfamiliar. I promise you, have a tea set ready when you're taking your next soul, and more ponies would be willing to converse with you?”

Death would have arched an eyebrow if he had any. REALLY?

“Yeah, I mean, alright.” Spike sighed, holding his claws up as if he were calming down a situation. “You and I don't know each other too well, and I have a strong suspicion you probably dislike me.”

Death remained silent.

“But I like you, as strange, and, especially platonic as that may sound.” Spike inhaled sharply. “You may take lives, but it's not like you're killing anypony to do so. You seem like a really cool guy if you take the hood off from time to time.”

Death remained silent.

Spike decided to take this as a good thing.

“To be honest with you, if I didn't have such a strange day, I would have probably peed myself in your presence.” Spike made a face that said 'what-can-you-do-about-it?' “You're a seven-foot-tall skeleton wearing a back robe and wielding a scythe that glows in the dark—I would have died from a heart attack had I not already just died.”

Death raised a bony finger to his bony mouth.

“That another thing, ponies are terrified to die!” Spike threw up his arms. “So seeing you, upon facing whatever comes after life, is going to make some ponies say some things they would have regret were they not dead. But take off that hood, have a table set with tea, and spend five minutes talking with the ponies—I bet it'll make your life a lot more interesting and easier if you let it.”

Death kept staring at the drake as though the latter was spinning some trick. It was in the trade to fear tricksters—the agnostics who suddenly became Buddhists when they found out recantation was actually a viable career path.

Duty compelled Death to trust it and it alone. Mortals were too often scammers, and fellow immortals often gave him the stink eyes as if he was trying to take away what was rightfully there's.

Every bone in his body told him not to open up, that he was exposed enough without flesh to conceal his being—it was the reason why he wore the robe in the first place. Hard to pass off as a blind force of nature when you've got a character to your personality.

SPIKE, began Death. EVERY REASON EXISTS TO DISLIKE YOU, FROM YOUR COWARDICE TO YOUR ECCENTRICITIES, FROM YOUR MORTALITY AND YOUR DECEPTIVE TONGUE, AND YET, I DETECT A STRANGE SENSE OF TRUTH RADIATING FROM YOUR CORE.

Spike placed a claw to his chest. It didn't feel radioactive.

SO I WILL ASK YOU THIS, said Death, AND I WILL ASK YOU THIS ONCE. ARE YOU TRYING TO PULL A FAST ONE ON ME WITH THIS? THAT'LL IT BUY YOU ANY FAVORS?

“No,” Spike said without having to think, “I'm doing this because I want to see you do well. At the end of the day—if that even exists here—I'm here to tell you my story and then make a deal with you at the end. This...weird friendship of ours has no bearing on that whatsoever, and I won't treat you differently—unless of course, I end up dying.”

YOU...YOU WOULD CONSIDER YOURSELF A FRIEND OF DEATH? Death said, leaning forward. YOU ARE FRIENDS WITH DEATH, DESPITE THE IMPLICATIONS?

“Sure!” Spike said, holding out his claw over the desk. “I've stopped caring about whatever those implications are, and just care about wanting to be your friend.” He closed his eyes and offered the biggest smile he had in stock. “So, how about it?”

Duty, to Death, had been the easiest way to 'live.' Someone would always be dying. He would always have some place to go in order to claim their soul. Then he would return to his domain and do paperwork. No complications, just simplicity. He knew himself to be doing right, because duty itself was direct and correct.

But shaking this dragon's claw? That would be an act of own volition, of leaving the beaten trail to wander off the grass, a chance of being wrong for the first time in his existence.

So Death took the dragon's claw, making the owner open his eyes, and then shook it.

THE CONTRACT IS SEALED, SPIKE. Death let go of the claw. YOU ARE THE FIRST FRIEND OF DEATH. SHALL WE HAVE SOME PROPER TEA TO CELEBRATE?

Spike laughed. “I thought you would never ask!”

Death went to snap his finger but stopped when the drake took the current page of the report and the quill next to it. He turned it over and began drawing on the back of it.

THAT IS PRIVILEGE PAPER MEANT FOR TRUTH ALONE! Death said, leaning over the table. TO DRAW CREATIVITY ON IT IS TO DESTROY THE VERY PURPOSE IT WAS MADE FO—

“There!” Spike said, turning the paper around. “You seem to have trouble bringing to life the things pony create, so try using this for reference!"

Death stared at the drawing. It was of a balcony, a glass table between a dragon and an alicorn, the sun setting in the distance. Despite being hastily drawn, it filled with Death with an aura of calmness. THIS... Death began, looking up from the sketch. THIS IS WHAT LIES BEYOND DUTY?

“Mmhmm!” Spike nodded his head, but then he rose a claw. “But make sure not to overdo it to escape work, or else you'll forget while sunsets are so peaceful!”

YOU TRULY ARE A STRANGE ONE, BUT IT WILL BE DONE. In a snap, everything changed in a flash. Instead of the infinite expanse of blackness, they were now on the balcony of a white castle, no wind nor ground below. HOW IS THIS? BETTER?

“Getting there,” Spike said, noticing how they now sat on wooden chairs. He looked over at the horizon. “If you can, try making some hills of grass, and with the temperature warm but the breeze cool.”

Fingers snapped.

IT IS SO.

Spike looked on to the rolling hills, of the setting sun and the refreshing breeze. He inhaled and exhaled deeply, and in that very moment, made peace with himself, and whatever else would come at the end of this strange day of his.

THIS...BREEZE. Spike opened his eyes just in time to see Death take off his hood, leaning back as he seemed to be in equal peace. IT FEELS...NICE.

“Yeah.” Spike smiled, leaning back in his chair as well. “It does.”

SO, AFTER YOU COLLAPSED, began Death, staring up at the blue sky, WHAT HAPPENED NEXT?

“Yeah, about that.” He glanced over at the head of the skeleton, whose head was smooth enough to capture the glint of sunlight. “You going to write this down?”

MY MEMORY IS IMPECCABLE, said Death. LET ME RELAX AND LISTEN, AND ONCE I HAVE FINISHED WITH THIS BREAK, I'LL FILL IN THE DETAILS. BUT FIRST, WOULD YOU LIKE THAT TEA?

Death snapped his fingers, and two objects manifested themselves on the table.

Spike tried his hardest not to laugh, looking at the bowl on the table.

WHAT'S WRONG, said Death. HAVE I FAILED AT PERFECTION ONCE AGAIN?

“Hmm, yeah.” Spike picked up the bowl with two claws, sipping his tea. At least it was hot. “But you're making progress.”

And then he continued the tale.

---

It's easy to mistake sleep for death. Many prefer sleep over death—it doesn't last nearly as long and brings about the same release. It has a way of resetting you, stripping you of your memories and identity, so all and all, just a step away from reincarnation.

Spike couldn't remember what he dreamt of, only that it was a dream he had when he was much longer, and was just having it again after so many years. It was crazy to think, that out of all the things to remain consistent in his life, these continuous series of bizarre and easily forgettable dreams was one of them.

“Oh. You're up.”

Spike stirred, groaning and stretching, nothing restricting his blind moment. And then he opened his eyes and saw a pink face, which made him worried about the state, in which, he'd fallen asleep—more so when he realized the pink face belong to a stallion.

“Ugh. Please, don't tell me.” Spike reached a hand down his crotch, relieved to feel nothing there nor any soreness. He blinked at the face far too close in proximity. “You mind?”

“I was just making sure you're alive,” Pop Tart sat on the edge of the couch. He walked to the wooden table next to them, laying his hoof on a small stack of papers. “And that you sign this.”

Spike turned his head, stretching out a claw. “Sure. You got a pen?”

“That I do.” And with a flash of purple magic, a quill floated into the said claw. Pop raised an eyebrow. “You're not going to ask what it's for?”

“Probably a restraining order,” Spike muttered, signing awkwardly on the first page. He flipped to the next. “Major villains, if not banished or killed by magic, tend to get restraining orders against the girls and me by proxy. Celestia usually rejects them though, seeing how she's the law and all that.”

“Well, it's not that.” Pop looked at the signature, frowning if the drake was still incoherent. The papers would be thrown out of court if that was the case. “Just that FML didn't cause your injuries, that you don't hold anyone else but yourself at fault, and an agreement to stay far away from our future shows.”

“Sounds about right.” He signed page two, then sighed. “So, where am I and why are you here?”

“You passed out at the front of the show—some mares were crying that you'd die.” Pop shrugged his shoulders. “Would have added to our legacy and popularity, but I don't doubt my fellow mates would have taken it as an omen. Seven'd go back to being a number and Priest return to celebrant.”

“Ah, crud.” Spike stopped singing his name to look up. This was probably a good idea. “I'm sorry. If I'd knew I was going to KO, I'd would have found an alley instead of the front of your show.” He shook his head; it didn't hurt so much. “Should have left me out there instead of canceling your show.”

“Listen dragon—“

“Spike.”

“Right, then listen, Spike.” Pop Tart inhaled sharply. “Just because I didn't want to find your friend does not mean I'd let some stranger get stomped to death. That kind of help is mandatory, so to speak.” He then shrugged his shoulders. “Besides, the show isn't canceled yet.”

“W-Wait. The show's not canceled?” Spike rubbed his eyes, his heart beginning to race. “Must have pretty dedicated fans if they're willing to wait for you to play. How long have I been out?”

“Dude, it's only been twenty-five minutes.” Pop walked to where the curtains were drawn, popping his head out. “We would have played regardless, but audience members were concerned about your state. Hard to enjoy the show when you think a dragon's dying backstage.”

“Twenty-five minutes?” Spike said, blinking in surprise. His claw trembled before his eyes. “I've only been out for twenty-five minutes?!”

“One hell of a power-nap.” Pop pulled his head back in, glancing at the drake who began to sit up. “Say, would you mind coming with us on stage to announce that you're alright? Put a lot of worried hearts to rest.”

“Can I...” Spike placed weight on his legs as he stood up, only to fall back into the couch. He felt rested, but his body was beyond sore. “Can I add that I'm looking for someone, that I'm sorr—“

“Yeah, I just going to stop you right there because none of that will be happening.”

“What? But why!?”

“First, because I don't owe you squat.” Pop walked to the opposite side of the table. “Second, you've already stolen time from both our show and our fans, the only two things I care about.” He slammed his hoof on the table. “And third, this notion that we should help you out of goodness alone is really starting to piss me off.”

“It's just...it won't take more than a few seconds and—“

“Tough!” Pop returned his hoof. “You don't seem to get that the world doesn't revolve around you, with a good purpose or not. If I refuse to help you, no matter how little that help is, the choice is still mine, and it doesn't make me evil to stay in my best interest.”

“Please,” Spike said, feeling his shoulders shake. “I don't know what else I can do. This is the final place she would come to!”

“I got that already, and the answer is still no.” Pop backed a step. “You're making it sound like I should be bound to some higher standard, that I should feel guilty for not helping you. Ponies are not like that, nor should they feel bad putting themselves first—only a fool would think otherwise.”

“But, that's...that's how it's been for me.” Spike wanted to cry, feeling like he was going to pass out again. “It's how I made that extra mile, how I'm awake instead of a comma, the only way to continue forward on this strange day. If I were doing this for myself, then I would have already failed and gone to bed.”

“How did you make this far in life thinking that?” Pop said, taking off his shades and taking a seat on a fold-out chair. “Either you're some divine creature or some kid that's too scared to say no. Either way, you're living the life of extremes, my friend.”

“It's the only way for dragon living among ponies to live.” Spike sat straight, clasping his claws. “Unless I want to start tearing building and stealing banks.”

“Geeze. How'd you figure that?”

“Every dragon...” Spike held his tongue for the moment. He'd never spoken to anyone else about his internal conflicts, the never-ceasing voice of greed that lurked behind his every act, both of charity and wickedness. It felt so fake to speak of him out-loud, like it was his imaginary burden to carry alone. “They have this thing, an instinct given voice, more primal than anything else. Most dragons live to satisfy this voice, and that voice alone—the treasure, wives, and off-breed are just a by-product of this mass obsession.”

“So you've got one too?”

“It's what reminds me I'm a dragon,” Spike said, falling forward, “some days I take that with pride, and other days I wonder why I'm among your kind. I'd go on without it if I could, but try as I might, something always seems wrong with that idea.”

“I'll say,” Pop said, leaning forward in his chair, “no matter why your psychology is messed. So did you manage to reject it?”

“Only once, and after that, it's become a daily struggle.” Spike sunk back into his seat, letting his gaze rest on the hanging light above. “I'd gotten greedy with some birthday gifts and destroyed the town in return. I'd learn that, when something deep inside growled in desire, it was best to skip out on taking anything above my means.”

“Sounds like your kind got it a bit rough.”

“Not really, it's natural for them—how else do you think dragons got so strong?” Spike draped a claw over his eyes. “All that fighting for their desires, the size of their hoard the size of their self-worth, the only ones who's a freak is me for living away from my kind.”

Pop was in thought for a few moments, digesting the story told. He then spoke, his tone holding reluctance. “These thoughts, these feelings, they guanine? This is not some pity story?”

“I don't even know anymore,” Spike said, letting his eyes close. “Am I just complaining because I'm not strong enough to deal with these feelings alone, or was Celestia mistaken in thinking a dragon could be tamed? I'm the first dragon to live among ponies, and I don't know what make either.”

He let his claw drop from his face. “I'm just a confused fool trying to do good, and at the end of the day, I just do more harm than good. It seems to be a repeating cycle—I doubt I'm making progress at all.”

“Have you...have you told anyone about this voice?”

“No.” Spike glanced over at him. “After the incident, Greed realized I'd evolved past my primal nature. So now he speaks to me like a used carriage dealer—he feels everything I feel, learns everything I learn and is getting better at selling me my desires.” He laughed. “Everyone would laugh and call me crazy, and the girls would have me locked up or closely watched. My Greed isn't going away, no matter how much anyone else tries to help.”

Spike gaze shifted into a glare. “So you don't have to sweat helping me with that.”

Pop Tart glared back at him for a good while, the air mostly silent aside from the distant chatter. The only light came from the bulb above and the cracks in the curtain, and after some time, Pop Tart sighed.

“Alright,” Pop began, “I'm going to tell you this, and I'm going to tell you this once, so clean the wax out of your ears. At the end of the day, there is nothing evil about protecting your self-interest, nor in wanting things.” Pop stood from his chair. “To think otherwise is to damn most of the population and miss out on so many pleasures.”

“But I don't need that stuff.”

“That's why they're called wants, kid.” Pop cracked his neck left, then again right. “We don't need pleasure in life, yet we want it anyway. You don't have walk straight on the path made by life's demands. You're allowed to wander about on the grass—that's where the rest of life is anyway.”

“But I can't risk losing myself,” Spike said, leaning forward off the couch. “I did it once and nearly destroyed a town, I did it a second time and hurt those close to me.'

“Listen to me. You seem like a nice guy.” Pop gazed at the table, laying a hoof on the pages. “Most would have skipped this bill in your place. Have you ever considered the reason why you rage when you lose control is that you deny yourself so much?”

“What, no!” Spike shook his head, feeling the world grow blurry. “I mean, maybe...I don't know!”

“That's exactly it.” Pop turned to the drapes, pulling them back with a hoof so that the distant crowd was visible. “Music is my life, and I would be content with playing back in my room—less having to listen to critics. But those fans out there? They enjoy my tunes, and I enjoy their cheers.”

Spike tried to understand, to make sense of this logic, but every word pained his heart. Something felt wrong, something wrong about himself, and searching for the right, always, just made the strange pain hurt more. He kept silent, breathing through his lips.

“My priority is my fans and my music,” Pop said, pulling back his hoof, letting the drapes fall into place. “I'm willing to practice the extra day for a better show, to play encore after encore till they had their peace, to spend our profits on bettering our instruments and our stages.”

Pop turned back to Spike. “I'm doing it out of self-interest because I like our fans, and I wish for them to enjoy our shows. And I'm willing to fight against anything that gets in the way of our relationship, that even includes denying helping yours.”

“It's...an equal exchange then,” Spike said, blinking. He looked up from his claws. “You play music, and they cheer you on. No one gets burned out, and all walk away happy.”

“'bout right,” Pop glanced at the papers again. “It's unfair for one to suffer for the sake of the other. There must be something they want for them to go through hell, or else they'd break or come to hate the other with a passion.”

'Is that it?' Spike thought to himself. 'My jealousy of Rainbow, of the girls, it comes from denying myself of what I want?' He covered his face with the palm of his claw. 'No, but if I submit to my greed, everything will just turn out the same again.'

“You can take without being greedy,” Pop began, levitating the papers off the table, “just like how you can be confident without dipping into arrogance. It's all matter of knowing yourself, and then, trusting yourself.”

Spike found his lips moving on their own. “Don't let the impossible stop from doing the improbable.”

Pop clapped. “Hey, I like that one! Mind if I steal it?”

'Is this it? Have I just been denying myself all this time?' Spike felt the train of thought penetrate his heart, knowing it had to go even deeper for anything worthy to come out. 'I've put my life at risk and pushed myself harder than I've done before just to find her, to get smacked and leave a letter. Do I seriously think I would not come to hate her once all was said and done, and I've gotta deal with the following agony?'

“Hey pal, you there?”

'I couldn't have anything, no, wouldn't have anything I desired out of fear.' Spike winced as his thoughts became more primal. 'To become more, to have more, no, that's just my greed trying to state my need for superiority. Right now, above anything, I know what I want, what I've wanted all this time—there isn't any shame in wanting it anymore!'

“Did you pass out again or—“

“Let me play at your show!” Spike exclaimed, calming the pink hoof with his claw. “Dunno how to sing, worse at dancing, but I know how to breathe fire!” He grinned. “Cue me in when you're about to riff, and I'll blow a flame that the audience won't forget.”

Pop raised a brow. “And in return?”

“You let me get across one message.”

Pop studied him for a moment. A moment later, he broke out with a similar grin. “Looks like you know how to cater to someone's self-interest.”

“So, do we have a deal?”

They shook.

“We got a deal.”

---

Life looks different when you're on a stage, even more so when hundreds are gathered just to watch you play. Spike felt butterflies fight to the death in his stomach as he rolled out with the other crew members, the sensation worsening when the music began to play.

“In despair and disregard, we see the magic in the distant stars,” Pop sang into the microphone, head dipped as he strummed his guitar. “Our grasp so short, the distance so far, is this the way it has to be?”

Spike's foot tapped against the wood, not coming to his attention until after moment it'd begun. Something coursed through his body, a sensation he'd been denying.

“Whaddaya say, friends, is this the eeeeend?” He drew out the note, closing his eyes in surrender to the emotion. His voice became stronger. “Is this the eeeend?”

Pop's eyes flew open with a grin below, turning the mic below. The crowd screamed: “No!”

“So we fight, fight!” He winked, and a moment later, Spike blew a green flame up above the stage, accentuating the change in tone. “Against the currents of time and the air of despair, sailing ever onward on the spirit of our courage and our will, to the yonder of our deeeesirrresss!”

Energy coursed, in its rawest form, through the Spike's veins. He didn't question it. He didn't stop it, knowing of its primal source, of the dragon inside he had long since ignored. No longer did he feel like a dead dragon walking—now he had found a new source to derive energy.

“The storms of reality will knock us off course, the pirates of the sea stealing us of our hope,” Pop flew his head up and down, sending his mane spraying into the air. “But band together, you and I, over the leagues of the endless sea, and we'll see the other side.”

Spike didn't even need to be cued in, he had already taken a running start, sliding across the stage with flames roaring out his mouth, growing higher into a curvature of his rampaging emotion, stopping at the other side and grinning back at the screaming fans.

“Leaving our homes insecure and afraid, traversing the seas and ourselves, reaching those stars together and better.” The drums came to a solo, then the bass and then the guitar, achieving climax with a simple few words. “What is the way you desire, my brothers and my sisters?”

The show ended there, but up in the air, the following words were written in flame and smoke:

I love you, Rainbow Dash.

PS. I have a letter for you.

---

AND THAT WORKED?

“Hmm?” Spike put down the bowl of tea. To be honest, he much rather a bowl than a cup—it felt more natural and allowed for more tea. “Sorta. Rainbow wasn't there, but someone who'd seen her was.”

WHO WAS THAT?

Spike flinched. “A past enemy.”

---

“Well well well.” The voice caught Spike before he could walk away, causing him to look over his shoulder at the source. “So the wimp grew a few inches, but not in the place that pleases a girl. Tell me.” Spike turned around, blinking with his mouth open. “Just how much did she make you cry?”

Spike rose a finger, pointing it down at the black pegasus. “D-Dumbell?!”

---

DUMBELL?

“He used to bully Rainbow and Fluttershy back when they were young,” Spike said, sighing at the memory. “Met him the day I stopped caring, send some cool and cringy stuff, then got Rainbow to beat him up. Not an end I wanted to tie up so soon, but then...”

---

“What are you doing here, Dumbbell?” Spike hopped down from the stage, the crowd cheering as the next song began to play. “What do you want with me?”

“To punch your face in, more than anything.” He grinned, nodding his head to a building behind him. “Seems like your darling's gone missing. Have a drink with me?”

---

So that's how the late evening found them, in a pup with the sun going down, foe and foe sitting side by side. Spike neglected to mention this was his first time attending a bar, but sat hunched forward like he'd seen his heroes do in the comics.

“You and I are going to play a little game,” Dumbell began as soon as the bartender left them a bottle. He uncorked it his lips, using wings to pour the liquid into two shot glasses, pushing one of them over to the dragon. “I'd take you now how I did back then, but wouldn't want your girl or your Princess on my tail.” He placed the bottle back on the counter. “So this is how I'll get my revenge.”

“Your revenge? Listen, I have time for this!” Spike got up to leave, but a hoof held him back.

“You do,” was Dumbbells reply, “if you want to see your marefriend again. She came to this bar, these exact seats last night, and hung around yours truly.” He chuckled as the drake sat back, lifting his shot with a wing. “Now, you exposed my insecurity in front of everyone, so it's about time the same was done to you.”

“Enough with these games!” Spike clenched his claw, restraining himself from grabbing Dumbell by the throat. This was a want that shouldn't be fulfilled. “Punch me, expose me, or whatever it is you want after I find Rainbow!”

“Now now, my dragon, there is still time left in the day for that!” Dumbell glared, malice intent exuding from his being. “Drink.”

Dumbbell tipped back his drink, and without choice, Spike did the same.

He refilled their shots.

---

“Give it up, dragon!”

Spike skidded to the stop of the edge of the cloud, the ground looming so far below. He turned to run, only to see the pegasi converging on his position, leaving no means of escape. Claws raised and smile on, he pleaded for his life. “I take it I'm not getting out of this one?”

The pegasus closed in.

“I see then,” Spike gulped, looking over his shoulder and the ground below. Sighing, he faced them all. “Guess you all must want me dead, then.”

Some nodded.

“Well,” Spike began while sucking his teeth, “then I suppose you got your wish.'

Spike stretched his arms out wide, grinned, then left himself fall backward. Surprise lit across a few pegasus faces as they dashed after him, but to of little avail as he'd already fallen past the edge. Ponies looked to one another, as if searching for the one in charge or if this counted or murder, but had their gazes drawn to a gust of wind.

A purple balloon shot up into the air, sending off a wave of air that blew all manes back. Spike laid atop of it, yelping in surprise as he slid down its length, hooking his claw into the wooden chamber before pulling his body into it. He stood up a moment later, surprised but glad to be alive, spotting Dumbbell just below.

“Killing yourself is one hell of a way to get yourself laid—but there's no point in fakin' it if your girl ain't around!” Dumbbell shouted past his hoof, grinning once the drake leaned over the wooden ledge. “You left this here a few week ago, figured I'd repair it and sell it for myself.”

Spike couldn't hold back his roar of laughter. “How much I owe you then?”

“What you talkin' about?” Dumbbell called back, doubling his flap speed and shooting himself into the balloon. “Your friendship already covered the bill—now get a move on!” His body collided with the balloon, the impact sending it hurtling towards Canterlot. “Your butt ain't getting laid if she gets the check after dark!”

The distant dragon gave a thumbs up.

---

YOU POSSES AN INTERESTING POWER.

“I do?”

YOU ARE A FOOL, BUT DEEP DOWN, EVERY MORTAL IS A FOOL IN THEIR OWN WAY. Death cracked his neck. YOU PUT YOURS ON YOUR DISPLAY, ALWAYS HONEST AND TRUSTING OF IT, THAT IT MOTIVATES OTHERS TO DO THE SAME. BY NOT CARING ABOUT YOUR INSECURITY, AND INSTEAD, HOW MUCH FUN STUPIDITY IS, YOU GET OTHERS TO OPEN UP AND START DOING THE SAME.

“Never thought about it that way,” Spike said while scratching his head. “Just kinda started caring about the stuff that mattered and not sweating the rest. I imagine I'll cringe about all this once everything is over, but hey, it really doesn't matter in the end.”

Then there was the sound of something knocking. Death's domain, in response, reverted back the dark realm it was supposed to be, with the bowls of teas disappearing in a flash. The door floated in the air behind them once more, a rapping coming from the other voice.

“I am the prince of griffons and soon to be rightful king!” cried the voice on the other side. “I should not have to wait for Death; Death should have to wait for me!”

Spike looked forward. “You were expecting?'

AN ARMY OF GRIFFINS, replied Death. SOME DRAGON WAS GOING TO TELL ME WHY SO MANY TIMERS ARE SET TO EXPIRE WITHIN THE NEXT FEW DAYS. I'VE BEEN WONDERING HOW ALL OF THIS AMOUNTS TO A WAR.

Spike made a pop sound with his lips. “Let's just say I took my new-found confidence a step too far.”

---

“Perfect!” Missy exclaimed in front of the castle, standing on his hind legs with his arms open to the nation. “Far too long have equines had unlimited access to these lands, friendship run among their own kind and scorn shown to all those enter. No longer will their tyranny run supreme!”

Missy turned around. A platoon of griffons stood in salute in rows before the steps below. “That temporary princess was all the pretense we needed to move our guards in. With all the current princess confined to their castle, it's a solid deal from here on ou—“

The casket of a hot air balloon the crushed him, the said balloon deflating

“Geeze, that could have gone a lot better.” Spike threw himself over the casket, rolling forward and down the cement, yelping at the contact of each step, stopping before the griffons who'd just seen their leader get crushed. They didn't look at the dragon too nicely, for which, he tried smiling. “I know this must look odd, but we're in Canterlot, right?”

Spike glanced along their ranks. “Because, usually, we don't have griffons here—neither dragons, but I'm the strange exception.” He pushed himself off the ground and stood up, wiping the filth off his scales. He glanced at their sword. “Weapons are especially a no-no around here.” He raised his claws and wiggled them. “Only reason I get away with these is that they're attached to my body.”

“You...you killed our leader!” the four griffons in the front row drew their swords, while the four in the back stepped away. Eight of them in total, with two who were backing away taking the bow clutching to their torso. “The dragons were not supposed to interfere! State your business!”

“Look, I don't mean any harm.” Spike let his claws fall to his sides. “I'm just here looking for a cyan pegasus with rosy eyes and a rainbow mane—name's Rainbow Dash, seen her before?”

“You speak of the injured blue one with attitude!”

“Yes!” Spike snapped his fingers, smiling ear to ear. “That's her. I've been searching for her all day! She's here, then? Can you show me to her?”

The griffons looked to one another for a moment, each nodding and turning around, huddling together while the two in the back kept their bows trained on the drake.

“He just killed our prince!” one exclaimed, but it was in a hushed whisper, so it was okay. “Such an act should be met with the same respect! We outnumber him in bodies and weapons. It will be a cinch.”

“This is a dragon we're talking about,” said a white one. “Their rage knows no end, and I'd rather not see my own so soon.”

“Dunno about that one,” said the gold one, “looks kinda weak to me—kinda speaks like an idiot.” They were still speaking in a whisper, so no matter the subject, it made it a-okay—bad words about others only got you in trouble if those others heard you. “I think we can take him.”

“And truly start this off as a war!?” said the white one, again. “For all we know, he can be a dragon ambassador. War with friendship loving ponies—steel beats peaceful words any day. But a dragon with fangs and claws twice the size of my body?”

“He's got a point,” said a green one, and because of that, the others cared very little for his opinion. “It's not worth pissing this guy of, either because he can kill us or get other dragons to kill us, and either way, we end up as dead as our princes.

“I'm telling you,” said the white one, “this dragon will kill us or will find other dragons to kill us. Fighting him outright is a bad idea.”

“Yeah,” replied the gold one, nodding, “you're right.”

This made the green one very sad.

“But we can't exactly have a dragon around, though,” the gold one went on. “He may get upset over our treatment over the ponies or decide he'll want to do what we're doing, either way, we can't fight him, but he certainly can't stay here.”

“This is true,” said the green one.

“This is true,” said the white one, which everyone heard. “He said he was here looking for that injured pegasus that came last night, right? Why don't we pretend she's our prisoner, which she kinda is, and if he doesn't leave and follow our exact instruction, we'll torment her further?”

“I'm not sure about that,” said the green one.

“Hey yeah!” the gold one agreed, nodding his head for the extra effort. “Even if he's strong enough to take most of us own, he has no idea just how many of us are in the castle, and that should he make it that far, we'll kill her!”

“I don't like this.”

“I love this!”

So they turned around and went with that, with the drake standing with a confused expression on his face.

“This Rainbow Dash you speak of, she tried sneaking into the castle intoxicated the night before.” The golden griffons grinned as his eyes went wide. “So we took the extra of introducing her to our customs, and let's just say, she hasn't woken up since!”

Spike blinked. “What...what did you just say?”

“She's currently in the castle, locked up in a room.” He nodded to the castle just up the walkway, two griffons standing guard by the gate. “To be beaten with every transgression against our kind, with good punishment to what you did to our prince.”

Spike's eyes narrowed as a flame burned behind them. He didn't bother looking back. “You...you've been hurting her?”

“Oh yes.” The griffon laughed, rising and resting a talon on the drake's shoulder. “She's been terrible fun while we've been not, though if you want our games to cease, then leave immediately.”

Spike glared down at him.

“You will be given further instruction once by myself once you are beyond this city.” He brought his beak close to the drake's ear-fin. “Failure to cooperate will not only result in the death of your pegasus but of the four princesses we have locked inside.”

The griffon would have laughed had not he'd be grabbed by the throat, the claw clenching tighter around it, lifting it up into the air. He tried looking down, but his vision swam with blurriness.

“You mean to tell me that my marefriend is injured!” Spike clenched the throat in his grasp tighter, walking down the pavement steps. “Along with those who I care about most, and it's all your kind’s doing!?”

“Y-Yes!” the white one said, stepping up to the spectacle. “And if you don't put him down, we won't hesitate to—“ he was interrupted by the flying body of his partner, crashing into him and knocking him to the floor.

“I can handle you stealing my bits, my comics, and my treasure.” Spike's voice turned to the growl as he had his head down, his every step impacting the pavement underfoot. “Most dragons would take a mountain of jewels for their horde, but I'm not most dragons.” An aura of power manifested around the dragon as came before the two reaming griffons. “My family, my friends?! Those are my hoard and my hoard alone!”

The green and yellow griffon drew their swords at once, rising to their hind legs and taking a stance. “Y-You better stop before—“

“You DARE defy the rage of a dragon!?” Spike took one of the blades with his claw, paying no mind to the sensation as he ripped it from the talon, then smashing the butt of the sword into its owners face. “Nothing, and I repeat nothing.” The other blade came slicing down at him, but Spike caught it with his wrist. “Is stopping me from protecting the ones I care about!” He smashed his wrist, along with the dull side of the sword, straight into the griffins face, who fell back from the impact.

Spike flinched as something stabbed into his side, another an inch into his neck. He looked to see arrows protruding from his body. “You think this would stop me!?” He took both of them out, breaking them in half with the same claw. “Do you have any idea who you're doing with!?”

“S-Stand down!” the griffon with the bow shouted, readying the next arrow. “There's enough of us h-here to stage a rebellion! You don't stand a chance!”

“Let's just see about that!” Spike busted forward, the two griffons who'd back away before charging at him now with their swords already drawn, and behind them, the two other griffons already had their bows drawn.

Spike saw the first blade flying down at him, stepping to the left and pressing his claw down on the back of the blade, flying his fist into the face of the griffon seconds afterward. The second griffon came at him vertically with the sword, but was grabbed by the throat before he could hope to swing, dropping the blade upon impact.

“Fire!”

Spike grabbed him by the hind legs and held him vertically, hearing the arrows shoot into the creature's back. He then tossed him into the air, then spinning around and picking up speed, delivering a roundhouse kick right into the soft belly and sending the poor guy flying across the ground—right into the last two griffons.

Spike walked past them, each struggling under the weight of their unconscious ally.

“You...won't make it past the gates,” one of them said, then, dipping their beaks and blowing a whistle around their necks. The high-pitch sound made the drake finch, but never broke his stride toward the castle. “You may be a dragon, but a dragon can't beat an army!”

“You talk—“ a purple tail hovered over the fallen two, slamming into their faces a second later “—too much.”

From the castle gate and windows, many griffons peered the sight, some with beaks open and others clamped tight, all yelling and converging, flooding down the stairs and out the doors. The wave of guards kept coming and coming in a study stream as they came to meet the dragon responsible for the intrusion—blades and malice and other such weapons already drawn.

'You sure know how to draw in a crowd kid,' Greed said, chuckling at the sight of doom just feet away. 'Half-dead and operating on borrowed energy, first fight ever just hours ago. I'm almost proud of your will alone.'

Spike clenched his claws at the sight of the upcoming foes, picking up the pace to meet them.

'But, tell me, after all that you have experienced, after all you have learned,' Greed went on, 'do you seriously think you can take these guys alone?'

“Not at all,” Spike said, coming to roar in a way no longer high-pitched. “But what kind of dragon would I be if I didn't attempt the improbable?!”

The first wave of griffins came at him with swords flying down in fours, the drake collecting them all along his wrist and wincing in pain, raising it, and by proxy, them into the air before slamming them to the right. The second wave attacked while he was opening, this time it was them who flinched when their blade sunk into his left wrist.

“Running around castle ground with sharp objects is off limits!” Spike cried as he slammed the four to the left, then, with a grunt and focus on his core muscles, spun himself and the lot around, twisting his wrists near the completion of the spin and dislodging the blades, sending the eight flying into the third wave.

Spike stumbled back, then forward again with his palm next to his mouth. “If you plan on being better guests, then start reading the rules!” He cocked his fist back, twisted his tail, blew a stream of green flames on his fist, then rocket forward. “Let me be the one to recount them for you!”

Just moments before the fourth wave, Spike let his tail spin feet and give him extra speed, allowing his flaming fist to smash into four beaks until his momentum slowed down. The rest of the griffons circled him, swinging their swords horizontally, though he ducked just in time, and with his remaining momentum, swiped his tail underneath most of their legs. '

“Rule one!” Spike shouted as he rose again, sliding to the left to avoid a slashing blade, silvering a punch forward. “Be mindful of your surroundings and those around you—never know who you might bump into!”

Two griffons rushed toward him with their blades ready to stab, smiles gracing their beaks as their swords grazed his sides, then frowning once he held his arms against them and leaned back, the griffons lifted into the air and then smashing into the pavement on the other side, head first.

'Spike, to the right of you!'

Spike leaned back even further as a blade soared above his chest. The griffon attached off-talon at not having expected to strike so far. The drake stepped back and slammed his forehead into the back of his opponent's head, the force making an indent in the pavement below. “Hey!” he said, rising back to his feet and glancing at the plethora of griffons that surrounded him. “You're useful for something!”

'I've always been useful, kid,' replied Greed, 'but no matter how many times I switch up my tacit, you never seem to get that. Almost dubbing you a lost cause and going dormant—better to spend my years silent with a fantasy.'

“I know, I know.” Spike winced as twin sword dug into his back, causing him to stumbled forward—right into an upright mace strike into his crotch. He fell on his knees, covering said areas, once again glad his pride and joy had failed to show up. “I'd always—oh geez this hurts—I'd always assumed you were a part of what makes me dragon—please Celestia when will this end—which made you a bad thing.”

“Who is this freak talking to?!” said the one with the malice, swinging the blood off his weapon.

“Dunno. Hit him again!”

“I've realized that greed doesn't have to be evil!” A malice then struck the drake across the face, and yet, he refused to be sent flying. “You are not—“ a swing left “—an inherently evil—“ a swing right “—thing!” The malice connected with his jaw, which sent him flying backward an inch. “I may have the heart of a pony, but that doesn't mean I should deny what makes me a dragon!”

The griffons flooded around them, each tapping their blades and other such arms into their free talon. “There's nothing wrong with having a horde and protecting it with the roar of a dragon!” Spike clenched his claws as his eyes burned a brighter green. “I'm a dragon, through and through, but it's through my heart that I decide what I want to do with that power—the power doesn't choose for me!”

'Yes, yes yes yes!'

The griffons collective brought their weapons down on the drake

A green beam of magic shot down at the center of the circle, enveloping the dragon and the resulting gust of magic sending everyone else flying back. Few rose to their talons so quickly, gazing onto the bright green light, beaks going agape at the black silhouette that stood within the magic.

“Finally! Finally, you understand!” Greed's voice rocketed through the magic, vibrating through the ground with every pulse of magic. “What you are, who you are, is not the enemy you should be fighting! Potential locked away at petty insistence, but no longer!”

The black silhouette standing at the core of the green beam began to grow, growing taller and taller than any griffin amassed here. The creature inside planted his feet apart, crushing through the pavement on impact alone, clutching his arms back and unleashing a roar which pitch had never been heard before—the sound so great that some fighters fell over and did not awake.

“What makes a true dragon?!” Greed' voice whipped harder and harder, a burst of energy blasting everyone out the area, green electricity capturing their bodies. “Is it his scales or his fangs, his claws or his hoards? Those he killed or those he mated?”

“The answer is no!” replied a voice nearly as deep, the silhouette raising a claw high into the stream of the beam. “A dragon is not defined by his size nor the color of the scales, but by his will!”

“Correct!” The beam became thinner as two black objects prodded out of the dragon's back, growing larger as the beam shrank. “If you have the will to oppose those who stand in your way, the trust to stand tall, and the power to protect that which you treasure, none of the right to oppose you of your heirarchy!”

“Griffons, take aim!” More flooded from the castle, filing row after row just before the gate, with muskets in their talons and all ready to aim. This stacked back of ten rows, the last bunch with their back pressing against the castle door. “While his back is still turned. Fire!”

Shot after shot, gun power after gunpowder, fired at the dragon without any time to turn around, but when he did, the all projectiles floated within the aurora of his magic, causing him to raise a claw and notice the green aurora around it.

“Magic?” he said, feeling his chamber grow brighter.

“The one who hatched you left you with a surge of their power.” Greed's voice dwindled in tandem to the shrinking beam. “It has been festering with your innate power ever since, the reason for the magic in your flames, only now it's under our control!” Spike looked on to the soldiers readying their next shot. “What shall we do of them? A fitting end to be had at their own bullets.”

“No.” Spike threw his claw down, and all the matter shot down into the pavement. Feeling the obstructions on his back, he infused the remaining energy of the beam into them, giving them mighty flaps as the force sent him rocketing into the air—the lingering exhaust of magic shock-waving across the soldiers and sending them all flying and scattered.

Spike looked down at the castle, the sight-stealing his breath as he hovered in the air. Then, with a bit of reluctance, he looked over his shoulder and at the things keeping him airborne—his very own pair of wings. “No way!”

'You last gift,' said greed, voice returned to normal. 'The wings you since long denied, proof that you are a dragon and granting you right to soar the skies. With the existence of your magic, they can retract easily inside your back.'

“This is awesome!” Spike couldn't hold back the excitement in his voice as he giggled into his claws, surprised at how light his body felt, but no longer hollow like the events of the day had made him. “I feel like a hero straight out of my comics!”

'Guess some things never change with you, hero.' Greed said with a chuckle. 'If this is how it's gonna be, then your damsel in distress is still waiting inside that castle, is she not?'

“You're right,” Spike said, beginning to sway in the air as control of the wings was being granted to him. “If you're gonna be my sidekick, then you need a serious name change.”

Spike gave a mighty flap of his wings and propelled forward from the impact, speeding like a bullet towards the glass, mostly because he had no control over his wings.

'Oh?' Greed's voice cut through the whipping wind.

“Desire!” Spike shouted over the wind, clenching his eyes as he braced for impact. “From now on, your name will be desire!”

'Desire, eh?' Glass shattered around them as they shot over the carpet, the wings unfurling themselves and taking away their speed. 'Not bad, not bad whatsoever. Tentative, but I'll keep the ring.'

With a great flap of the wings, Spike landed on the carpet. He stood up, far taller than he could remember as he looked down at the griffons, glass collected around his entry. Magic formed around his claw, the same appearing around his wings, which merged transparently into his back.

“Now then!” Spike threw out his arms wide as if to take all the griffons before him on. “I've already taken the first half of you lot on when I was dying of exhaustion, but I would be more than happy to take you on again in this new form.” He threw his claws up and took a stance. “I'll take you all on. I'll take on the army inside this castle and tear through to find the princess, to find my marefriend!”

He grabbed the air and tossed it aside, a gust of wind tearing through space because of it. “You're all just cannon fodder! Show me to where you're keeping your prisoners!”

“I can show you.”

Spike exhaled in delight, not actually wanting to fight. Even in his new form, with the adrenaline starting to fade, he found the act of fighting terrifying, and would not be able to continue doing so were it not save those he loved.

He turned around, looking up at the distant staircase, and what he saw injected him with fear that no fight could ever hope to measure up to. Moonlight glittered through the broken memorial, there was no wind, but her ethereal mane floated anyway, every color of the rainbow yet twinkling with the brilliance of a star.

“M-Mom?!”

Princess Celestia stood at the top of the staircase, the griffons all with their heads bowed—equally as afraid at the maternal terror that the alicorn so effortlessly exuded from her being. The dragon was quick to bend, any excuse to escaping her scathing gaze.

“You, young dragon, have a lot to answer for.” Princess Celestia turned to the right, disappearing into a corridor. “We shall discuss your recent behavior in the tea room.” When she heard no footsteps, she shouted again. “At once!”

Spike quickly scampered after his mother.

---

YOUR MOTHER IS A PRINCESS OF EQUESTRIA, PRINCESS CELESTIA HERSELF?

“Crazy, right?” Spike had his eyes on the door he'd enter from, raising an eyebrow at not having heard any knocking in a while. “Twilight hatched me, but she was too young actually to raise me, so Celestia saw it as her duty to care for me until she was ready to. I don't think she meant to get as attached as she did, and, well, the deal was done when she started calling me her son.”

YOU ARE A STRANGE DRAKE IN AN EVEN STRANGER SITUATION. Death signed the bottom of the page, pushing it aside and beginning to write on the last one. BUT EVERYTHING BUILDS UP TO HIS? ALL THIS DEVELOPMENT AND FIGHTING, ALL THIS SEARCHING AND FRIENDSHIPS, ALL TO HAVE TEA WITH YOUR MOTHER?

“If it's any consolation,” Spike said, “she was the second scariest thing I dealt with today.”

SECOND?

---

“You haven't sent me any letters.”

The words were calm, said over two cups of tea, but made Spike tremble with fear. Nervously chuckling, he picked up his cup. “Are are you talking about? I've sent you letters every day for the past few weeks!”

“Yes, letters detailing your day,” Celestia said, dipping her muzzle past her cup. She sipped gracefully, betraying her rage. “Had I want of such things, I would inquire to Twilight of your well being, no, the letters were to keep me up to date about yourself.”

“There's been nothing going on with me, mom.”

“Spike?”

“Yes?”

“You've covered in blood and taller than me.” Celestia pulled back from the tea, glaring at her son. “Honestly, I wouldn't so concerned were it not for the fact that some of that blood is of your own!” Spike wasn't sure how to feel about that, but after a few moments, was glad to hear that. “To make matters worse, you broke up with your marefriend without telling anyone? Don't you ever consider how this would make anyone else feel?”

Spike lasted only a few seconds under her gaze, fearing shifting to shame as he looked away, out the sole window into the moon up high—had day already ended? He'd spent his whole day getting here, facing all those who got in his way, including himself, just make sure he'd deliver a letter to someone, and now that he'd finally made it, he was forced to look back on the path that got him here.

He didn't like what he saw.

“I...I didn't think at all, and I'm sorry.” He dipped his head in shame, under to look at anything but his reflection in the glass table. He had trouble recognizing his face, it sharper than ever before and covered in blood. “The truth is I didn't trust you girls, that if you found out what lurked under all these scales, that you'd stop caring so much about me. I wanted to be the dragon you saw me as, that I hid everything underneath the surface, believing that if I just worked a little harder, that then I could reveal everything to you.”

Spike raised his head, looking into his mother's eyes with soft determination.

“I should have known that I couldn't be perfect.” Spike felt the corner of his eyes burn, raising a claw to wipe them. “That If I'd just trusted you, Twilight, and especially Rainbow, that I would have made a lot more progress when it mattered more.”

Celestia stared at him for a moment, watching her son beginning to cry, until, she could take it no longer, rising from her seat and circling the table, throwing her forelegs over his shoulders and pulling him closer to against her chest. “Oh, my Spikey!”

Spike wrapped his arms around her torso, holding her close.

“You should know better!” Celestia said, pulling back just enough to nuzzle his cheek. He didn't hesitate to repay the act. “You are my son, and because of that alone, I will love you forever, even when you come close to destroying my nation and causing an all-out war.”

“Thank you, mom. You don't know how badly I needed to hear that.” Spike then blinked, her words repeating internally. “Wait. What's this about a war?”

Celestia pulled back from the hug, a knowing smile playing at her muzzle. “Do you remember how you elicited one of my guards to be a temporary princess?”

“Kinda.”

“Well, apparently he managed to declare war on the nation of griffons,” she said, rolling her eyes at the memory. “I doubt that he did so—my paperwork was neatly stacked, and tea brewed upon my return—but a griffon diplomat stated we had, in fact, declared war, and it was in the good graces of their kind that we come to negations.”

“So wait.” Spike blinked and pointed a thumb out the window. “You're telling me that all those griffons I fought were here for peaceful negations?”

“Yup.”

“And I could have just declared war against them?”

“Yup.”

“I am so, so so sorry.”

“Oh, try not to worry about it too much.” Celestia smiled as she sat down, tilted her head—she looked too cute for her own good. “I saw your moves, so if war breaks out, I'll be sure to send you to lead the guard.”

“Ah, crud.”

“A-A-Ah!” Celestia booped him on the snout. “Those who start wars don't get to complain about cleaning them up afterward. Oh! But you have to promise not to get too hurt.”

Spike shook his head. “I don't get it! The griffons I saw made it sound like they were keeping you like hostages!”

“Oh, they were.” Celestia rose from the ground, walking to the window. “We were not allowed to send out any letters or contact any outside forces about what was happening—they didn't even let us inform you that Rainbow Dash had arrived.”

“So she is here!” Spike shot up from his chair, quickly approaching his mother. “I have something very important to show her,” he looked over his shoulder, seeing an oversized doughnut on the tray—he picked it up, “and something to tell her.”

Celestia was silent. She stared out at the sky.

“C'mon, Celestia!” Spike shook his claws. “You would not believe the stuff that I went through today just to get to get here today. I need to see her! There's so much I've learned, so much she was right about, that she needs to know!”

“Spike,” Celestia said, turning around with her expression solemn. “What you're about to see is not your fault, no matter how much you may feel it is. You can't hold anything but misfortune at the cause of this, okay?!”

“Mom, come on now, you're scaring me!” Spike felt his eyes burning again, not liking the air around him whatsoever. Something felt horrible, wickedly wrong, like he'd stepped into a nightmare that turned out to be a reality. “Just show me to where Rainbow is!”

Celestia sighed, and with a head bowed, lead the way.

---

YOU CAUSED A WAR BECAUSE YOU WANTED TO SPEND TIME WITH YOUR MOTHER? said Death, head tilted. YOU STARTED A WAR BECAUSE YOU THOUGHT THOSE YOU LOVED WERE ENDANGERED?

“I'm still trying to get used to this kinda caring business!” Spike said, crossing his arms in defense. “I'd denied my dragon urges for so long that I just wanted to cut loose, but that doesn't quite excuse starting a war—“

IT DOESN'T, said Death, gesturing at the floating platform of timers set to expire soon. DO YOU KNOW HOW MUCH PAPERWORK COMES WITH STARTING A WAR?

“A lot?”

YES. A TON, TO BE EXACT.

“Oh, well I'm sorry.” Spike shifted in his seat, unsure of what to say or do.

WAIT. YOU SAID YOU CAME HERE YOU COULD SAVE ME OF THIS WORK. Death looked back to the timer of the Elements Bearer's, nothing different about them since the first time he looked, that was, until he examined them more thoroughly. WHAT IS THIS?

Six hourglasses stood with their own color of sand, that was, except for the last one to the right that had more than one color. Death picked this one up, making the drake frown and lower his head, and with a shake, removed any magical interference.

The sand returned to blue and was nearly poured through.

OH, NOW I SEE.

---

“She's...just past this door.”

“Rainbow!” Spike called out into the dark room, an infirmity by the looks of the many beds, though only one stood out. The girls stood around the bed, moonlight draping across their still bodies, unmoving even at the sounds of a newcomer. “G-Girls? You're here too?”

Spike rushed across the room to where a red carpet in two, but was stopped by a white unicorn in the middle. He glared down at her, anger rising alongside his panic. “Rarity, get out of the way—I don't have time to deal with you!”

“Wait!” Rarity said, pleading with her voice. She threw her forehooves around his torso, refusing to move or let go. “Before you do anything, had I known anything about this all, I wouldn't have played these petty games. Oh dear Celestia, Spike, I didn't know!”

“What!?” Spike said with anger in his voice, but in all honesty, the mare was sobbing, and he found it hard to be mad at her for much longer. Sighing, he rested a claw on her head, patting it awkwardly. “Look, what happened today is behind us, alright? Do you still have her letter?”

Rarity nodded, black eyeliner running down her cheeks. Her horn lit blue, and the magic appeared out of her mane, with the letter inside its grasp.

Spike grabbed it, gave her a nod, then moved toward the bed.

What he saw moved him to tears.

“No...no!” Spike fell to his knees at the side of his bed, shoulders falling on their own. “What...what happened to her, who did this!?”

“Spike,” a calm voice said, and he looked to see Twilight. “This...this isn't your fault.”

“Not my fault, not my fault!?” Spike looked back at the mare in the bed, beginning to sob at how she had more dry blood patched to her coat. “I'm so sorry Rainbow. I'm so sorry!”

Rainbow Dash began to shift in the bed, eyes slowing opening, seeming almost too weak to do so. The world took a few moment to swim into focus, but when it did, the first thing she saw was her ex—something which had never caused her to smile.

“H-Hey big guy.”

Spike wiped his claw, occupying the space closest to the bed. “R-Right back at ya.” He gulped, clasping her forehoof with both claws. “W-What happened to you?”

Rainbow laughed, but coughed up blood instead. “Oh, y'know, just the usual—trying a trick I shouldn't have attempted.”

“That's not what Dumbell said,” Spike said, feeling his voice choked. “I hashed things out with him today, and he said you tried flying to C-Canterlot after drinking.”

Rainbow couldn't hold it back anymore as the tears busted from the corner of her eyes. “Oh, Spike! I'm so sorry!' She sobbed willing, in front of friends and princesses, but most importantly, in front of the one she loved. “I just...I just couldn't shake you after our breakup, that I went around and did a bunch stuff, and decided to top it off flying drunk through a storm.”

“Then...then...”

“I couldn't see the mountain,” Rainbow with a laugh or a sob, either way, it sprouted more blood, “I couldn't see the mountain! I didn't see the c-castle, I-I didn't see the ground, I-I—“

“Enough!” Spike brought his arms around her neck as carefully as he could managed, pushing himself forward to take her into his embrace. “I...I get it...I get it! Please, no more...” He kissed the top of bruised forehead. “Just, just tell me you'll be alright and no more.”

Rainbow was silent.

“Just tell me you will be alright!”

Rainbow smiled, and nothing hurt Spike more.

“You look a lot bigger since our break up,” Rainbow whispered the words out, “must have really hit the gym to get back at me, huh? You seem a lot more confident now—don't think you've ever touched me without my life being in danger!”

“D-Dash, this isn't funny!” Spike glared over at Celestia. “Why didn't you send a letter or anything like that!”

“The griffons came before her,” Celestia said with her head low, “they denied us any right to send anything out. It was only after your battle I had escort carriages sent to everyone—I wanted to give you time to prepare and for the rest of the Elements to get here.”

“That's another thing I heard,” Rainbow said, her voice barely audible, but Spike snapped his attention to her immediately, “apparently, you won a lot of fights that you didn't need me to save you from—“ she coughed more blood “—guess all the qualities I had in the relationship are starting to fade out.”

“No, not at all!” Spike pressed his forehead against hers, staring into her dim, rosy eyes. He fell in love all over again. “It was wrong of me to regard as you perfect, as beyond my league. I was happy, and you were happy, and I should have been content with that, instead of this happening.”

Rainbow's smile faded. “W-What are you talking about, Spike? You turned out into everything I knew you could...be...” Her eyes began to drift shut. “I'm the one who forced too much on you, the one who could herself busted because you cared too much...this isn't...your...fault...”

Rainbow said no more.

“Rainbow? Rainbow?” He lifted her cheek to no response. “Hey, come on now, I didn't tell you my day like we always do after coffee. There was this stand up show you may have found funny, and a flying train that became my friend, as well as that rock band you like. My feelings about you have changed so much!”

Spike wept.

“I went from wanting nothing to do with you because you'd gotten my hopes up, before realizing you were right about me all along.” He gently laid her cheek back on the pillow, choking as he tried to keep the sobs out from his voice. “To wanting to apologize, then admitting our breakup was a mistake, and then, finally, after so much wasted time.” He took raised the claws both with the letter and the doughnut. “R-Remember the dream I thought I was keeping you from, turns out I was a great big liar!”

He placed the letter on the bed, matting it with his tears. Hyperventilating for a few seconds, he doubted if he could go on, but knew he had to, even if nothing mattered anymore.

“For so long, when I thought about you, I'd denied what I felt about you.” Spike raised her hoof, tears coming unbidden at how limply it moved. “How much I wanted to touch, how much I wanted to kiss but, above all, how much I wanted you.” He slipped the doughnut up her hoof, hating himself more and more. “You said if you ever wanted a wedding ring, that you wanted it to be edible. I...I hope you like this.”

Spike let her hoof drop back onto the bed, falling to his knees finally, lowering his head.

“Rainbow Dash, no matter our flaws, I know together, that we can make progress.” Spike sucked in through his nostrils and wiped his eyes, his inner-self turmoil as he needed to brave this one last pain for her. “I don't want a life where you're not in it, because there's nopony else like you in it, somepony pushing me toward my better self.”

Then, with a face void of sadness, Spike looked up at his love with a smile.

“Rainbow Dash, will you marry me?”

And then Rainbow Dash died.

Comments

[B_25]

Apologies once again for the unedited chapters. Half through the chapter, you'll see a scene that cuts short: I am sorry for this. For whatever reason, the scene got cut out when I transferred it over to G-Docs, and don't have the mental stamina to re-write it from scratch.

Dumbell and Spike end up hashing out their differences. The former reveals that he'd spent the night drinking with Rainbow, but rejected her advances on him for the sake of how deeply she spoke of Spike. Sorry once again for this, but I'd like to be done with the story as soon as possible. The last chapter will be out tomorrow.

For now, I hope there's some saving grace in chapter VII.

[CaioCoia]

B25. It should be Dumbell who was the character who Spike's meet on the show. Rumble is Thunderlanes brother. Didn't I tell you about it when I read it for the first time?

[B_25]

8735345
Yeah, my bad.

[CaioCoia]

8735341
Cool, can't wait for it. Good luck dude. XD

[TheUltimateBrony-Class-S]

Dumbell?

isn't Death supposed to speak with ALL CAPS, LIKE THIS?

[PixelMoon]

WHAT?! THAT IS SUCH A MEAN CLIFHANGER!!!

[TheUltimateBrony-Class-S]

Ah, fk me.

*waterfall of tears has created an ocean of tears in bedroom*

That's what it was leading to, it was in the title... it was obvious this is where it was leading to... yet it only hit me when I read that last sentence...

... Sir? Would you like a-

WHAT THE FK!? HOW ARE YOU IN MY BEDROOM?!

*looks at T.U.B. Class S sternly*

Some how when you write stories you remember that I exist and allow me to speak to the audience and miscellaneous people... yet you forget that I can exist in the comments too? I must say I'm disappointed in you...

... first off, you should work on your grammar, that 'Some how' is supposed to be a 'Somehow', second, I'm in an emotional state right don't judge me.

*shrugs as T.U.B. Class S and looks to you*

And you don't get to judge either, reader.

[BetaHammer]

I HAVE THE BIGGEST ERECTION RIGHT NOW AND I CANT STOP CRYING! WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO TO ME!?!?!?

[Johnny B Mediocre]

fucking

why is everyone except Spike a dick/parody of themselves in this universe, holy hell the logic is so flawed with these ponies

...and then I read the tags

[Pluto Daze]

[ShadyAwesomeness]

I can't seem to comprehend on what's going on so I'm just gonna go ahead and ask, WTF JUST HAPPENED!

[OmicroniX]

Good god I'm in love with this story

Good god please let me edit it

[PheonixTv]

I went from crying to laughing at the bluntness of And then rainbowdash died[, good news is it's not tagged tragedy so we have some hope left/spoiler]

[Yosh-E-O]

The movie-like quality of the story just keeps roaring forward. Dang have you ever put forth an epic effort on this story. Thanks for all the adventure, emotion, and bittersweet romance.

Now it appears that we'll soon find how Spike found his way to death. This should be most interesting after all that has just happened to let us know how he reached this point.

[FanficReader920]

“Famous Last Words,” Spike read the banner above, tilting his head in thought. “Now why does that sound familiar?”

Somebody’s been reading Blonde Moments.

[FanficReader920]

“Flying trains and rainbow factories.” Spike shook his head again—“

In the Rainbow Factory....

[FanficReader920]

“It's not selfish to put yourself first; it's selfish to expect others to do so for you.”

Mind= Blown. Wow! That was actually really insightful. Well done.

[DarkDMan]

Well, that's it! Great ride, but it's time to get to the final act.

[FanficReader920]

.....Dead?! Actually, that makes sense. But WHY must you play with my emotions?!

[Sozmioi]

> I'm not just how sentient you are

not sure just

> all were overwhelmed by the stressed aura he exuded.were more overcome

Missing words. Or maybe too many?

> He'd be told of Rainbow location at one part of the party, only to find a stallion called Rainbow Bob. It didn't help that his body felt weak, his mind foggy, and the sun further north every-time he looked up in the sky.

Rainbow's location. Also, the sun sets in the West. I think that applies to Equestria too.

> puclator

percolator

> It was in the trade to fear tricksters—the agnostics whosuddenlybecame Buddhists when they found out recantation was actually a viable career path..

Updating on evidence is not being a trickster

> rightfully there's.

theirs.

> how I'm awake instead of a comma

a comma -> in a coma

> guanine

Maybe they're genuine, but I don't think feelings can be guanine. Or cysteine or adenine either.

> you elicited one of my guards to be a temporary princess

appointed, not elicited.

[OmniFox]

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[SilverShrapenal]

8736333
Please do. The grammatical errors and wrong words being in place of others is driving me crazy. This story is so good and those errors are making this hard to read.

[SilverShrapenal]

Wait, haven’t they been dating for only two weeks, and he is proposing?! Talk about moving fast.