No One For the Gallows But Me

by Coyote de La Mancha

Intermission Four: Spike and Twilight.

Spike woke leisurely, yawning contentedly as he did. He stretched, scratched, and looked around.

It was another relaxing summer day. Well, weather-wise, anyway. The snow had added an interesting wrinkle earlier in the week, giving him drifts to bound through while helping Twilight and Sunset deliver supplies, knock on doors, and so forth. But now it was back to the late summer heat, with an occasional cooling breeze.

He couldn't hear either of his humans in the house, which was disappointing. They were probably out running errands, or something. Or, slightly less likely, visiting... her.

Spike frowned and gave a brief, unconscious growl. He'd managed to avoid Sunset's doppelganger the entire blizzard, and certainly didn't intend to meet her now. He didn't even like speaking her name. Or even thinking it.

Sunset and Twilight kept saying she was reformed. Good for her. But it remained: she'd tried to kill Sunset, and had hurt Twilight really bad when she did. Twilight was still hurting from it. At the end of the day, nothing could make up for what she'd done.

So, no names. Names were for people and for pets. So far as he was concerned, she was neither.

The Rainbooms, though, apparently didn't share his view. They'd all been visiting Sunset's doppelganger ever since she'd turned herself in. And when she'd mentioned that the girl she'd gotten arrested didn't have visitors, they'd started visiting the other girl, as well.

So far, only Rainbow Dash had opted out of visiting the little would-be murderess. But apparently, even she was planning to bite the bullet and pay her a visit before the trial. Why, Spike didn't know. Twilight had once said that if Spike just met the girl, he might understand how Twilight and Sunset felt about her. But he doubted it.

After all, what could she possibly say in the face of what she'd done?

Reaching the living room, he looked at the stuffed animal on the coffee table with puzzlement. He was pretty sure the household's use of a plush elephant had been Sunset's idea, a non-verbal signal that there was something hovering over her and Twilight that needed to be discussed.

Spike shrugged. Whatever it was, it was nothing for him to worry about. The elephant had only been used a few times since they'd moved in together, after all. And whatever was wrong this time, he knew the girls would work it out. He'd just give them their privacy, and afterwards they'd all play video games or something.

Outside, the car could be heard pulling in with the precision and care he'd always associated with Twilight's driving. Up the house's driveway, then stopping, the engine still running.

Spike frowned. They were talking in the car?

Then car doors were opening and closing, and the garage door was opening. Spike's ears perked. There wasn't room for the car in the garage along with Twilight's lab, so, why...?

Then, Sunset's motorcycle started up.

As he heard her bike's motor fade into the distance and the garage door began to close, Spike sighed, then shrugged. Apparently, the stuffed toy was for him. In retrospect, he supposed he should have seen this coming after that one talk with Sunset.

Oh, well. As Sunset would say, 'Elephant in the room time.'

Twilight opened the door between the garage and the living room, peeked in uncertainly.

“Spike?” She asked.

Spike hopped up onto the couch and sat, the coffee table and its pachyderm between them.

“Hey, Twilight,” he said. “You... wanted to talk?”

“I do,” she said, closing the door behind her. “If you don't mind.”

“Nope,” he said, scratching behind one ear in what he hoped was a nonchalant gesture. “C'mon, let's talk.”

For a moment, he thought she'd sit beside him. Instead, she began to pace, looking anywhere but at him.

“So, um,” she started, wringing her hands, “Sunset mentioned to me that you said – well, you'd said it to her, and she wasn't sure if it would be a breach of confidence telling me, but she thought it was important, so hopefully it's not – but she said you weren't certain how long you would, um... be around.”

Silence.

“Yeah, that wasn't a breach of anything,” Spike said carefully. “I don't expect you guys to keep secrets from each other.”

Still not looking at him, Twilight nodded. “Right. And we really appreciate that. Anyway, at first, Sunny was concerned that maybe you were having health problems she didn't know about? She was worried that we might need to take you to see Fluttershy professionally or something.”

Then she stopped, her body facing him but her head lowered, staring at her shoes.

“But that's not what you meant, is it?” she finished quietly.

Spike shook his head where he sat, his tags jingling slightly.

Twilight sighed miserably. Then, she was in motion again.

“I should have anticipated this,” she cried, suddenly pacing again. “How could I be so thoughtless?!? So selfish?!? I didn't even think! I just went blithely on, having adventures, planning my own future, and all the while--”

“Woah, woah, woah!” Spike exclaimed, hopping down and running to her. “There's nothing here for you to blame yourself for!”

“Yes, there is!” Twilight cried, gesturing wildly as she paced. “I could have spent this whole time researching, finding a way to extend your lifespan! Sub-cellular fragmentation reversal, genetic modification, controlled cloning with central nervous system transfer...”

Spike stopped, looking at her uncertainly. “Um, I'm not sure I'm comfortable with any of those...”

“Or magic!” She realized suddenly. Whirling to face him again, Twilight exclaimed, “You could go to Equus! I'll bet there's been a mountain of research on lifespan extension already! Or...”

Her eyes widened.

“Of course,” she whispered. “On Equus, you could be a dragon!”

“Uh, Twilight?” Spike tried.

“A dragon!” she exclaimed, self-blame gradually giving way to a strange, ecstatic joy. “What lives longer than a dragon?”

“Twilight...”

“Heck, I bet you could even learn magic!” She went on, her excitement building. “Even if there isn't a spell to extend your life, we could...”

“Twilight!”

Twilight blinked, refocusing upon Spike again.

“What?” She asked.

“I'm not moving to another world,” he said as gently as he could. “And I'm not turning into something else. I'm sorry. That's not going to happen.”

For a moment, she could only stare at him.

“But...” her voice broke, and she tried again. “But you'll die.”

Spike blinked up at her, slightly puzzled. “Well, eventually, yeah.”

“But,” she said again, tears beginning to fall, “But I can save you!”

Spike smiled.

“You already saved me, when you adopted me. Remember?”

Sniffling, Twilight sat down on the couch, covering her face with her hands.

Spike moved next to her, setting his chin on her lap.

“Look, we don't know what kind of mix I am,” he pointed out. “Cavalier King Charles Spaniel? American Cocker Spaniel? English Bulldog? All or none of the above? Who knows?

“The good news is I've got hybrid vigor on my side. So, I'm probably healthier, and I'll probably live longer because of it. Maybe longer still, since I've been altered by magic.”

“But we don't know that!” Twilight wept. “And even if it does, that still doesn't give you very long.”

“Well, technically, that's true,” Spike admitted. “And I've been reading about that. English Bulldogs get seven to ten years, total. In fact, most dogs peter out around ten, thanks to modern breeding practices. Some only get four. And I wasn't born yesterday, you know.”

They shared a look at the unexpected turn of phrase, and the two of them laughed briefly, though the moment was sad and ended too soon.

Then, Spike jumped up to her, and they hugged each other fiercely.

“No, you weren't,” Twilight acknowledged. “You were always intelligent, even before the magic.”

“Okay. So, trust me.” Pulling back in her arms enough to make eye contact, he added, “I know who I am, and I know what I want. And I want to stay me.”

He lay in her lap, tail gently wagging. Twilight stroked his back absently and sighed.

“But... you'd still live longer as a dragon,” she said, half-pleading, half-wistfully. “And wouldn't it be cool to be a magical creature, in some faraway land...?”

Spike shook his head slightly, careful not to upset the rhythm of Twilight's movements. Like most dogs, he understood that when a human gave an animal pettings, it was usually more for their own emotional needs than the animals'. And Twilight always stroked his back like this when she was worried or upset about something.

But he also knew that, unfortunately, there just wasn't much for it this time. He wanted, as always, to be a source of Twilight's comfort. But now he had to be a source of her stress, too. And that stunk.

Still, the alternative was worse.

“I'm already a magical creature,” he pointed out, in what he hoped was a reassuring tone. “I'm a highly intelligent, educated, talking dog. And yeah, the stuff magic's given me is awesome. And like I said, maybe it affected my lifespan, too. We don't know, and you're still learning how to measure magical effects. Frankly, I'm scared to be altered any further. We just can't know how those changes would mix.”

While Twilight hugged him again, he continued, “But even without that, first and foremost, I'm a dog. That's part of who I am. I can't pretend to be something I'm not. That would be, I don't know... poisonous?”

He sighed as well, shaking his head. “I feel like that's not the right word. But you get what I'm saying, right?”

“Yeah, I think so,” Twilight nodded sadly. She released him, and he lay back in her lap while she scritched his ears. “Like the way that Sunset and I are both humans, and Sunrise is a pony.”

“Right,” Spike agreed. “Living as something else, I wouldn't be living my life, I'd be living someone else's. Like a costume I could never take off. And... I... don't think I could do that.”

Then, slumping slightly where he lay, he added, “And I don't want to live in a faraway land, either. I want to live with you.”

“I know, and I want you with me. It's just that...” Twilight swallowed, closed her eyes and made herself say, “We don't know for certain that you'd be a dragon. But whatever you turned into, you'd live longer on Equus. And it's hard for me to just...”

She trailed off, and Spike sighed again.

“Look at it this way,” he tried. “Civilized ponies live an average of about a hundred years, right?”

Twilight looked at him, eyebrow raised. “You have been studying. But yes. That's a little optimistic, I think, but it's a fair estimate for the sake of argument.”

“Okay, fine. But my point is, I don't see you and Sunset moving there anytime soon. You'd get another ten or twenty years together, easy. And you'd be welcome, the princesses would love to have you. But no matter how often you visit, you still live here.”

Twilight's shoulders slumped in defeat.

“Yes, we do,” she agreed quietly. “Because this is our world, and because we're human.”

Spike nuzzled in closer, inhaling the scent of the human he adored, as she hugged him warmly.

The old grandfather clock her parents had given her stood in the upstairs hall, loudly ticking away the moments as it always did. Spike listened contentedly for a few moments. To the clock, to the sounds outside, to Twilight's breathing. But the girl who held him continued to sniff, and to heave her occasional sad sighs. And Spike knew that, regardless of their new understanding, she was going to keep pointlessly torturing herself over it all for a while yet.

The realization made him sigh, as well. How very Twilight of her.

Well, then. There was only one thing to do.

For an instant, Spike's eyes narrowed in determination. Then, without warning, he wriggled out of Twilight's grasp, jumped up, and stared fiercely licking her face, ignoring her giggling protests.

“Ackpth! No, wait! Stop! No fair!” She laughed, falling to one side.

“Mlah, mlah, mlah, mlah, mlah!”

Eventually, Twilight managed to push Spike away. And, still giggling, she sat up and grabbed a tissue.

Wiping her face, she said, “You know, ever since you started talking, that's gotten kind of weird. You know that, right?”

Spike gave a kind of canine shrug. “Yeah, I guess I'm more 'people' than 'animal' now. Even if I'm not human.”

Twilight stopped, her expression becoming thoughtful.

“Now that's an interesting idea,” she mused. “If – and I'm not going to try it, don't worry – but if we used magic to make you not an animal at all, would you become human in this world?”

She put a hand to her chin. “Hm. I suppose it depends upon the operational definition of animal used in the spell, what traits...”

“It's a false hypothesis,” Spike interrupted, scratching behind one ear. “Humans are animals.”

Twilight considered him. “Are we? I mean, sure, in the biological sense, but from a magical perspective, utilizing the symbolic implications of...”

“Oh, don't try to convince me you and Sunset aren't animals, whatever world you're in,” Spike said with a teasing grin. “I live with you two, remember?”

Twilight frowned in puzzlement.

“What? What's that got to do with oh my god, you're TERRIBLE!” she exclaimed suddenly, throwing the tissue at him in mock fury.

While Spike rolled on the floor, laughing, Twilight pounced, tickling his ribs.

“Hey! No fair using fingers!” he yelped.

“Muahahahahahahaha!”

Just then, the front door opened slightly, and Sunset peeked in.

She started, “Hey, guys, can I barge in for just a second? Sorry, but I forgot my purse...” and then beheld the scene before her.

“Tickle fight!” Sunset cried happily, pouncing Twilight and tickling her mercilessly.

“Wait, no! You're supposed to be on my side!” Twilight laughed.

With this new betrayal, the tides of war immediately turned, and soon Twilight had no choice but to surrender before her opponents' superior numbers. A minute later, and the three combatants were sitting on the floor, grinning and regaining their breaths.

“So, I take it we're cool?” Sunset asked.

Twilight nodded as she rose, and began ascending the stairs. “I think so. I'm still processing a lot of things on the emotional level, so I'm going to need some time. But yes. I think we're cool.”

“Good to hear,” Sunset smiled. “You still up for dinner later?”

“Sure, just taking a quick shower,” Twilight answered as she vanished into the upstairs bathroom.

“Great,” Sunset called, already stripping off her jacket and boots. “Mind if I join you? It's hot out there.”

“Sure,” Twilight's voice floated down to her. “Spike already knows we're animals.”

As the water started running, Sunset paused, her puzzled look blending into amusement.

“I missed something?” she asked, turning to Spike.

For his part, Spike just winked, and let himself out into the evening air.

Sunset considered the closing screen door and shrugged. Whatever it was, it obviously wasn't urgent.

She shook her head with a contented smile, and started upstairs.

Comments

[Thought Prism]

One last dose of funny and wholesome before shit gets real again.

[Coyote de La Mancha]

11147652
Yep.

[FanOfMostEverything]

So, no names. Names were for people and for pets. So far as he was concerned, she was neither.

This is fascinating. Spike the actual dog presents the opportunity for a unique perspective; how does a magically uplifted dog see the world?

I get the feeling we'll be very grateful for this emotional breather further down the line. Let's see what happens.