Addiction

by B_25

Thrills Are Diverse

Addiction
B_25

Twilight faintly caught the signs of her charge but, as the duties of a princess weighed heavier and wider across her shoulders, she was less apt to investigate them. If her assistant... if Spike had an issue, then surely, he'd come to her about it.

“Twilight? Hey hey.” That kind voice reached in from the realm beyond unconsciousness, sparking light inside of the darkness, causing a groan and a moan from here. Chuckles followed outside of her spawning consciousness. “C'mon now. Don't drool on the papers. All of those economical equations you spent all night on will go to waste if you do.”

That lifted her heavy lids for a fraction of a second. “Mmhfmm?”

“Confusion contained within a single sound.” Claws lightly settled on her shoulders—which felt a world away to her consciousness—as they peeled her back. Peeled? Her spine ached from having been slumped for far too long. “Aren't you glad I learned the language of the tired in my free time? Lean back now. Keep your eyes close if you like. Give your muscles some time to relax.”

“Hammmhfahmmmm.”

“Afraid we haven't learned that word in class yet—but I dig the syllable use.” Feet cracked across the floor as the sound floated upward. They came around the chair, a shadow now over her, its coldness summoning a shiver—but the warmth of his proximity kept it at bay. “Now we can go about this one of two ways. Either I carry you back to bed piggyback style—or you lean into me as we walk back together.”

“Nnmmhhaa!”

“So the piggyback then? Righty-ho.” Seconds passed before pressure lightly mounted on her hips, two claws firm on their hold there, twisting her body to the side—leaving behind the back support of the chair. “For whatever reason, I get the sinking suspicion I've been talking to myself this whole time.”

“Mmfhmm!”

“Thatta girl.” Those claws lowered to her thighs and, had it been anyone else, fiery consciousness would have been regained. But the deepest part of her psyche recognized the dragon and allowed the princess to keep within her sleep. “You tell them. Now then. Lean forward for me?”

Consciousness itself was barely at her comprehension, and yet, the sleeping beauty fell forward. Straight out of the chair as the rest of her body fell through—the ground awaiting the foolishness of trust. But the slender back of another curved to easily conform to her front, legs already held at the thighs.

“Just like that.” Twilight snuggled into whatever was before her, slender and smoothness rubbing across her cheek, the feeling of shoulders beneath her, a neck to her side, which created a nook she snuggled into it. “And just like what you used to do for me. It was always you carrying me to bed, wasn't it? Never thought... I'd get to repay the favour.”

That voice grunted at the middle as the two of them rose, a dip and a sway beginning, footsteps breaking into the air. Twilight fully leaned into him and relaxed, her consciousness submerging into darkness, the full-extent of sleep returning.

He coughed. “Though maybe I get a little bit more out of it... all things considering.”

What... had that... meant?

Twilight breached the surface of sleep in a fight to crack open her eyes. But then the world changed as she was laid on her side. Softness sunk beneath her before adjusting to her weight. Thick plushness, warm and clingy, cast over her frame. Something slipped underneath the side of her head.

Fighting was fatal.

“Get some sleep, Twilight, because you need it.”

Darkness.

---

Twilight was aware of the morning light before her eyes opened. First to come was the outward reach of her arms, stretching and stretching as her torso twisted to join in the movement, the kinks of the night, popped, come the wakefulness of morning.

Sheets shuffled upon sitting up on the bed; the pillow supported her lower back. Loose clothes kept to her... meaning she hadn't changed last night. Was it one of those again? At least she had found her way back to bed this time.

Until memory recalled his voice.

“Mmhmm... S-Spike?” Twilight blinked to adjust to the light of the room as the view carried beyond the bed. Turning to the rustling of the blanket, her legs swung over the bed, the dangling feet finding cozy warmth awaiting below. Slippers placed and waiting below. “Mmhm. So it was you last night.”

Twilight slipped her feet into the wear and stood, enjoying the second arching of her back, feeling her chest bunched by her top. She came still at that. Hadn't he dropped a comment in lieu about that... or was that a trick of a sleepy mind?

It didn't matter as her eyes took to the drafting table located in the corner of the room. Oh no. The new tax policy and economical estimations on the importing of goods from the opening trades with the dragons. It needed to be done last night. Having fallen asleep, that meant.

Twilight carried over to the table on feet not producing sounds but her heartbeat echoing off the walls. On arriving at the slanted desk, however, she leaned and peered across the laid scroll to see its completion. Formulas unfinished somehow reaching their completion now. Rules and propositions set in the case of contingencies and conditions.

But how did—

Knocks resounded from the door. “You awake?”

“Hmm? Oh.” Twilight cleared her throat and shook her head, aware of the frizzled hair brushing across her shoulders. She contemplated brushing. But it was only Spike on the other side. “Y-Yeah. I'm awake.”

“That's good,” he replied. “Can I come in?”

“Uh.” Twilight gazed down at herself at the loose and dimming of colour tank-top adorned to her. That, and the sweatpants barely held to her curves. Not the attire of a princess. “What did you need?”

“Just have breakfast ready for you on a plate here.” Steps echoed away from the door as his voice softened. “You didn't eat dinner last night either. It's okay to cut a meal here and there. But lose out on too much nutrition and—“

Twilight chuckled as she picked up the scroll. Her eyes scanned through from the top to search for any errors. Not many others could finish her work or much less understand it in theoretical terms. Yet Spike had followed through with the fewest flaws possible. “You may come in. Just don't expect me to be wearing a tiara.”

“Why would I ever expect that?” The knob turned and the wood swung. Underneath the frame ducked in the dragon, who did so by inches, returning to his proper height afterwards. Don't look at him. That was the demand for slowing her heart. “Here's some eggs and bacon to get that stomach of yours full. Careful with the coffee. Still hot.”

“Roger that, Spikey.” Twilight giggled without knowing as he entered the peripheral of her vision. His wrists leaned into focus as they set down the tray on the table next to the desk. But something was wrong—and it wasn't the stack of pancakes. “I must say you did a tremendous job on these. Few mistakes here and there. But after quick proof and coffee... I think I can send this off to Ember and her ambassadors.”

His wrist tensed and the arm spasmed before locking in place. Nothing seemed wrong across the surface. Slender and muscular as the years had been kind to him. But across the glossy scales—a patch of them was missing, a revealing of red skin there. “S-Speaking of which... everything here is done to my projected goals and ideals. How did you know where to go with all of this?”

“You do know I listen to you ramble when you talk, right?” Spike stood and stepped back from the table, that arm swinging behind his back, held there by his other claw. Twilight lightly craned her neck back to gaze up at him. “ You were going off about it a few nights ago in the kitchen. Celestia leaving too much on your plate, but it's a plate full of vegetables, so it's meant to be good for you."

Twilight tilted her head as memory sparked faintly. “Care to finish that metaphor, Spike?”

“There's a bit of everything in that one.” He leaned back and pulled a claw to his neck, scratching, a wince and clenching of the eyes after having done so. Twilight's own squinted at the strangeness as her sense ticked toward a conclusion. “First it was too much being placed on your plate. But since the things on your plate were all vegetables—clearing the plate is ultimately good for you. Not only that, but if you can clear the plate, then the princess knows you're able to handle the full extent of also being a princess.”

His foot tapped against the ground. “At least that's the summary I got out of it. Might have screwed a part or two. But most of it sounds true.”

“Differently sounds like one of my logical loops,” Twilight said while daring a step forward, leaning to the side to look around his own. He turned more at her intrusion and backed away. “Something happened to your arm? You're being a little fumy with it.”

“Whacked it during some chores and chipped away a few scales—not a pretty sight.” Spike inched up his chin in direction of the food. “Why don't you chow down on that for now? I need to get back to cleaning the kitchen.”

But something wasn't right. Twilight could sense it without knowing it. Glancing back to the scroll covered the expanse of the desk... everything laid in perfect order. The rules and the equations. Easy workings of her mind. And none many others had a mind like hers.

Then her violet gaze flicked to the corner of the scroll. There'd been a tear at the top corner of it. Now, however, there was none. Leaning to the gap between desk and table, countless papers tilted and filled the lane. “This isn't the original draft?”

“In terms of contents it is.” Spike backed away to the door and laid his other claw on its handle. “Failed more than a few times to get it right. Stole a few books from your collection for reference. That's... not an issue, right?”

Twilight shook her head but couldn't stop the tightening of the skin around her eyes. “Nothing wrong with that at all. In fact I'm flattered. Spending all night to cover for me... wait.” Finally her head swung to him with the corners of her lips pulled into a pout. “Did you spend the whole night on this?”

“Not the whole night.” Spike turned his head away and couldn't dare to set his eyes on her, taking particular interest on the floor. Subtle sadness washed across his expression as the emerald glow of his eyes were now suddenly so dim. “Got a few hours of shut-eye before breakfast. Then I'll probably steal a nap when I—“

“When did you sleep?”

Spike blinked. His mouth opened and his eyes tried to flick over to her—shooting away on catching her glare. It was a concerned glare, one composed of care, though still a glare nonetheless. He swallowed and said nothing. “I'm... used to an all-nighter, Twilight.”

Guilt tingled beneath her coat as the sigh was quick on its route out from her throat. What am I even doing right now? Giving him trouble for helping me out? She settled back into place and attempted to stand straight. “Then I'm thankful for that Spike. And thank you for breakfast. But, uh, p-please make sure to try and get some rest?”

“What about the second draft of that bill?” his voice floated from above and came crashing down upon her. “There will have been no point in working overtime if we don't get a suitable second-draft to all of them. Not only that—but it'll have to be delivered by claw as well.”

Twilight slipped a pair of fingers to her chin to support the weight of her thinking process. “Right. It's too important for it to be mailed. Not only that... but something like that has to come from a dragon.”

“And since my work last night.”

“The involvement of a dragon will garner more support from all.” Twilight blinked rapidly without lifting her head. “Were you thinking that far ahead since last night?”

“Had a spark or two giving me an idea of what to do.”

Electricity snapped at her veins. “Spark?”

“Stuff that popped in my head while I was drafting.” He looked away again. Why had he kept doing that? Twilight glanced down at herself to see the looseness of her outfit. Fuzzy and lavender cleavage fully exposed with tears in her sweatpants glimpsing to the simple underwear underneath. “But we should probably continue this later, right? Didn't mean to keep you for too long.”

W-Why the... shame now? He's seen me in less before.

Now it was her turn to twist away from him. Strangely enough she felt his eyes return for a glance. Her wings twitched on her back, teased from being viewed, unsure of the dragon's intent. It's not that she minded. Boys would be boys and flattery was found in being appreciated that way. But Spike had no problem stealing a peek and cracking a joke on being caught.

So why had he avoided her eyes when she was facing him?

“That's alright.” Twilight kept her back to him as her chin dipped for another reason entirely. Dread flushed through the body and left her limbs beyond heavy. Guilt reappeared. Had she done something wrong? Not actively... but out of mistake or oversight. “Thank you again. I'll need your help a little bit after breakfast is done but... promise you'll try to steal a nap?”

A knock on the wood of the arch as footsteps thundered outward. “Once the kitchen is polished I'll grab an hour or two.”

The door then closed.

Twilight approached the chair and collapsed into it. Her head leaned back onto its rest as she blew a heavy breath. Something had been growing and swirling in the center of her mind that teased at being refined. Her gaze rolled down to the scattered scrolls on the floor.

Lurching forward saw to her hand grabbing one of them. Sitting up and pulling it out, Twilight gazed across the page, words before equations, crosses slashed around sections. Watching the math descent into a state of being incorrect that earned the 'X' to begin with.

Twilight tossed it aside and leaned forward again, another scroll to vastly be revealed before her face, revealing advancement from the previous scroll... to the problems and mistakes that awaited on the next level. This wasn't a matter of simply finishing a project.

But of also attaining and learning the same skill and the same level of quality to see the project through. Spike wasn't gifted and yet he pushed through. Again and again throughout the whole of the night. Sunlight warmed the exposed furs of her purple shoulders. Morning had just come, and already, he was up.

Last to sleep before the moon.

First to awake before the sun.

Something was wrong.

---

The kitchen sizzled with the steam and sound rising from the pan as the flourishing of fire shifted beneath it. Spike stood before the stove with his back to her, donned with his classic pink apron, arm rocking back and forth to the vegetables fried within the metal saucer.

Twilight rested her elbows on the table with a book set in-between them, the pages revealing the checklist and the plan of their next arc of operations. Her eyes blinked at the expectancy of the time. They were ahead of schedule. And that had been thought due to the excellency of her planning.

But Spike didn't fit into her sheet at all.

Rolling her cheek onto her palm, Twilight rested and leaned into her arm, feeling her chest come to rest on the table itself. Her eyes settled on the dragon's arm. One active as it flicked the pan back and forth from the handle, easy rises and swirls, the expert moves of a chief.

Yet his other hung limply to his side.

Spent yesterday awake and the morning at work.

Twilight narrowed her eyes at his legs. They'd spent the day walking and running. Those wings above had flown across land and water to reach a land taking a day by train followed by boat. Yet he returned to cook them both supper.

All without a hint of exhaustion.

Flew to drop off scroll and negotiate with ambassadors. Ember said I couldn't have done it better. Knew exactly the right things to say and projected the optimal mood for each one. Read every dragon and knew what to target for in his approach. He's always been able to think on his feet like that... right?

Twilight was finding it hard to remember what the truth was. Those changes came slowly and subtly to the point of being undetected until the moments the bulk of them were proven. Obviously he became a fine negotiator or else those dragons would still be hesitant. But when exactly had that shift occurred within his personality?

Spike stumbled backward.

Twilight opened her mouth to say something... but kept it shut and looked to her book instead. His eyes flashed on her for a second, confirming the loss wasn't seen, attempting to bring himself back to it again. Yet he wobbled as he stood. The claw at the handle instead rose to caress the side of his head.

“Hmm...” The claw lowered to the dial and set it to a shimmer. Spike cracked his neck while taking off his apron. “Think I'll let the juices seep into the vegetables now.” He turned his shoulder to her without doing the same with his head. “Could you keep an ear out for these? Going to use the washroom real quick.”

“Mmhmm.” Twilight pretended to be invested with a problem on the page, flipping it, picking up the mechanical pencil next to it. Three clicks until she could write between the lines. Act in the zone to make others feel ignored. “Sure thing. Turn the dial before anything sets on fire.”

“That's my girl.” That widened her eyes and expanded her chest with a heavy breath. “Er. Not quite like that. Like that but also not like that.” An exhale of strain escaped him as well. “S-Sorry. I never quite word things right without... uh, um, hmm... a splash of water to the face.” His footsteps travelled afar. “Be right back.”

She didn't wait long for him to be gone. Rather her head lifted from the pages as her eyes attempted to track him through the walls. Worry flooded through her freely, born without reason. Something had been up with her dragon.

Twilight stood up from the chair and walked over to the stove, turning the dial until the flame was gone, coming to push her hips out to the side. Tucking her lips inward, her sighs blew outward—just so unsure of what to do.

Should I leave him to it? If something was wrong... he would tell me.

Skin condensed onto itself as her stomach swirled in revolt. Cognitive dissonance rarely occurred as Twilight could never willing lie to herself—not even that which kept buried within her subconscious. Senses were vague but led in the right direction. The cues and clues of what someone's internal truth was.

No. We're not close like that. At least not truly.

The clenched hand at her hip unfurled, fingers opening and parting, letting go of that... that caused them to struggle.

He picks up the slack and finishes my work. Every time I don't make it back to bed, he always seems to be there, carrying me and tucking into the covers. Not many friends are that close. Much less at this age. Yet despite all that... despite how close we act... it feels anything but.

An exhale of truth settled her trembles.

But what caused that to begin with?

Twilight turned to the hallway the dragon had disappeared down to, hearing the squeak of a door and the dullness of steps. Seconds passed before she dared the same. Down the hall to the fifth door there. Light flashed beneath the frame as a fan started into life. Moments carried on until the rain of a shower came into sound.

“T-Twilight?”

The girl stopped before the door as looked up at it, a worried expression and raised a hand to the frame—caught by the voice and beaten a step into retreat. Her voice croaked before the first word and only in a turn of the head could she dare to speak. “Y-Yeah. It's me. Just wanting to make sure... that you're okay.”

Though it shouldn't have been possible, she heard him swallow, a step of retreat creaking from his side. “Always okay, Twilight. Just a little sleepy this last little while. Figured a quick wash would keep me in the game a little longer.”

That makes sense... but is it true? How do I know? Do I ask? See if there is anything deeper? What if he answers the same? Do I accuse him? That doesn't change anything. I don't have any way of knowing if what he says is genuine.

Twilight's hand grabbed and sunk onto her chest, though the flesh as it clasped between her fingers—a squeeze of pain to repress another far greater. Every beat of the heart sliced upon itself as the scenario itself led her astray.

“I guess that makes sense then.” Looking at the ground made dealing with present troubles easier. However as the curved and golden light from underneath the door caught her eyes... there'd been no steam to join it. “Y-You said you're taking a shower?”

“Y-Yeah.” Spike coughed. “Once we're talking here at least.”

Twilight narrowed her eyes as no heat escaped the room. Spike didn't take cold showers. It went against his blood. Not even to jolt himself awake. There'd been a week he tried to end his showers cold and each attempt had been dubbed, with him in a towel around his waist, as a complete and utter failure.

And it was in the intimacy shared in the past allowing Twilight to sense the lie preventing that same intimacy in the present. Already the dragon seemed to be doubting his true intentions on the other side of the door.

Should she barge right in? What would she catch? Was there anything to catch? Twilight clenched her eyes and shook her head and breathed in and out over and over again. Her heart-rate expanded and tore onto itself in its inability to process the steel tension bloating her nerves.

“Alright Spike,” Twilight replied while turning around, a casual few steps away, timed and slow. “Take as long as you need in there. I can finish up dinner and set the plates. Allow yourself to relax if you can.”

A relieved sigh he didn't mean to release. “Aye aye, boss-lady.”

Twilight sauntered into the darkness of the hall as every crack from her heel into the floor rang throughout the area. The archway to the kitchen loomed ahead, light and food, everything needed awaiting her. Yet she did not return to it as a lavender glow came from her horn.

And she disappeared in a violet flash before she could finish the trek.

---

Lights remained on and the mirror was not fogged as the princess materialized into the bathroom, invading privacy and without permission, uncaring, suddenly, of these facts. Twilight's feet pressed into the polished floor as she gazed down in exactly the place she suspected him to be.

Spike had tittered on her arrival and spasmed backward, sitting on the closed lid of the toilet, his chest heaving in and out. Finally his panting face came exposed before her. The scales around it were hard and dried and some cracked. Blackness pulsated from the bottom of his lids in a way feigning possibility.

Twilight's head lowered to his arm, the one suspected of problems, finding it resting on his leg. That wrist rolled and facing the ceiling, a patch of scales clawed at, torn and removed, all to reveal the thin skin beneath.

And the needle deeply stuck into space.

“T-Twilight?” Spike barely exhaled the words before he jolted into straightness, throwing back his head with his eyes becoming clenched—enduring a surge of some sort. Seconds of painful and internal tension, once done, melted into relaxation and apparent euphoria. “Mmhmm. T-Twilight. Y-You're not supposed to be here for this.”

His eyes. They appeared blank. There but reflecting nothing of the environment before him. Twilight leaned close to be struck in surprise as change then raced across his face. Scales brightened into emerald and flourished with health, flexing in their return to symmetry. The shadows beneath his eyes seeped beneath the surface, a flourishing of a lush spring occupying their place.

The dead dragon, returned to life, by the drug in his arm.

“Spike... what is this?” Twilight lowered to a knee as snout inched toward the injection, a gentle grab at its base. It was pulled out, slowly, a twitch to him as his claws came to itch at the spot. Blood trickled from the hole left behind. “This capsule! N-No. It couldn't be.”

Gripping the handle of the item, her other hand came to the vial, twisting it around, popping it from its seal within the device. Sparks cascaded from her horn as black sludge lapped at the glass of the thing. Casting magic, an impossible feat, when a loved one's consciousness had gone on a retreat.

“R-Refrain...” a voice croaked from her side, and Twilight turned her head, seeing pupils fade back into his eyes—stretching and returning to their slit shape. “It's a drug that holds back exhaustion and other such n-negative qualities. In its place come only good things. That, and memories of better times.”

The vial slipped from her fingers, falling and crashing onto the ground, glass shattering, precious substance then splattering onto the floor. Spike inched off the seat at hearing the loss—until collapsing back into a recline, the back of his head to the wall, rolled enough to see the loss of his prize.

“S-Spike...” Twilight spoke the name as she repressed utter hatred from entering her tone. Her hands curled into fists as the following anger could not be contained. Shooting to her feet, she turned to him, smacking her hands onto his shoulders. “How could you do this! Refrain?! Do you know how much of an absolute idiot you'd have to be to ever keep on the stuff?”

Spike's head rolled completely to the side as his eyes kept within the same fashion. “Apparently a big one.”

“This is not a laughing matter! This isn't something you can joke about! Refrain! Really Spike!” Her fists clenched their grip deeper into his shoulder. His eye winched and he barely suppressed a groan. Twilight's heart fluttered in the furthering of the agony behind her anger. “Do you even know what that stuff does to you? How it affects the body and shapes the mind? That it has hurt, damaged, and in most cases killed those who try it?”

Spike didn't seem to care. Nothing of his face given an inch of such a thing away. Rather he was swept to a different place, a different time, a different living. “Can't double the good and remove the bad without a cost. The double-dipping... reduces from that which it takes from.”

“Which is your life!”

“As a dragon—“

“As a dragon changes nothing!” Twilight launched her hands into the sides of his head, forcing his face to keep inches before hers. In the dimness of his eyes reflected the burning glow of her own. At least something got through. “Is that how you've rationalized this? Because you're a dragon—you can take more?”

Spike's lids had finally narrowed in rebellion. “Isn't that the case? Can't I take and do more?”

“To what end? Is that your justification?” Twilight freed a hand to allow it to dive and for her fingers to slide over his wrist. While his head leaned into her other palm for the support, his face winced, his wrist lifted before them. “Refrain doesn't take it easier because you're a dragon! Maybe you can take more than the usual danger dosages... but it catches up.”

Sprinkles of coldness washed through Twilight's arm as the blood within froze over. Closing her eyes to prevent seeing the result of her next action, her fingers tightened over the wound, to pronounce it, all to illustrate how much worse it could become.

“Can't you see Spike? It's already taking its toll on you... please.. it doesn't have to be this way.” Twilight inhaled through her mouth and sobbed an exhale. Shivers tore through her nervous system, jerks through the shoulders unable to be suppressed, a weight gaining atop her, the full realization urging her toward collapse. “We can find a way to stop. Get you some help. Find a substitute of sorts.”

She blew out her fears through pursed lips. “Anything.”

Spike twitched into place as life regained in his system. Without strength was how he pulled himself forward, fangs grinding into fangs, a growl resonated from deep inside his throat. “I can take it! Anything this drug throws at me. I can take it!”

Twilight took to confusion in inching away. “S-Spike... b-but... why?”

“Because I'm a dragon Twilight! I can take any injection, any side-effect, any anything!” Spike pushed forward through his chest, it pulling the gravity to the rest of his body, limb everything falling into place. “You don't have to worry about me! I-I'm not as far gone as you think! Can't you see that?”

Twilight stepped back and did so again, unable to do so a third time, the wall behind she now forced herself against. Despite being terrified, she reached out a shaky hand to him, watching as his own pushed onto the seat. He rose into the air, slowly and weakly, barely standing... grinding his teeth to keep on his feet.

“That drug... allows me to do... everything that needs to be done...” Regardless of his towering stature, the weight of the slender dragon swayed, unbalanced and unable to be otherwise, a constant struggle to keep himself from falling to the side. “The energy... to finish... those scrolls...”

Twilight pressed into the wall as fear shook throughout her legs, causing her thighs to closer together, a stomach collapsing onto itself. Blood froze as her heart stopped. All of it seemed to be coming to an end.

“...the power... to power through... the draining learning sessions...” His footstep sounded wet as it crashed forward, another coming seconds afterward, the dragon above falling left and right, barely keeping upright. “...the speed... to travel... to distant lands...”

His shadow engulfed her as everything became dimmed by it. Twilight found her arms hugging her chest as his elbow crashed into the wall above her head. He leaned into it, heavily, exhaling stale and dying breaths. “And the mental elevation... to say all the right things... for those ambassadresses to sign...”

Twilight produced a sound, close to a whimper but not quite, unsure if she'd ever had made it before.

“So please... don't take it away...” Spike inhaled in a squeak as oxygen barely squeezed into his lungs. “It's what... I need.... in order... to...” Energy faded from his soul as the weight of the dragon collapsed onto itself. He fell to the right, occupying all the space between the bathtub to the door, landing over the substance.

“...t...o...” His head inched away to reveal the side of his face, turned from the floor, his one eye set back on her. “...help... y...o...u...”

And then he closed his eyes.

And then he finally went to sleep.

---

Twilight pushed on spent legs to give another pull, a long and thick arm draped over her shoulders, a firm grip of both hands on the forearm to all the rest to be dragged. Behind her was the dragon lying on his front, squeaking as he was inched forward on the crystal floor.

Some flavours weren't as easily repaid in reverse.

Just use your horn you idiot.

Twilight groaned as the sound carried throughout the hall, none else here for the week, only two of them. After a few hard-earned steps, she stood back, panting, leaning her head to the side.

No. I can't risk giving him a violent reaction to teleportation or magic given his current state. Though... I very much doubt this is a better alternative. That thought offered another billow of internal fire to take another few steps; squeaking from behind, however, ruined the determination. Just get him back to bed and we can deal with this whole mess later. Or at least until prepping for the next... n-no. Spike's hurt and trouble. You don't have time to deal with that.

Twilight continued to pull on the near corpse as her gaze lifted from the floor, seeing across to the stack of doors ahead—the second one his. So close to victory. But this wasn't supposed to be her victory of the day.

If you don't have time to deal with it now... who will? Princess Celestia is assigning you all these tasks to discover if you have what it takes to be a princess yourself. You will have to take up the mantle for her someday. But how can she entrust you with a nation if you can't even handle legal affairs?

Twilight closed her eyes and endured another step; devoid of life was her body. Mind foggy and limbs drained and spirit fizzled. Everything begged for a kick, a pick-me-up, something to kick her into overdrive. Even though she was barely conscious yet keeping on—the anxiety behind her thinking refused to cease.

Should I do the work and watch over Spike? No no. This is too important of a matter for me to be focused on something else. But... the work still needs to be done. He wouldn't mind. Or would he? Is this even a good enough excuse to break from the work of a princess?

Twilight exhaled heavily and it wasn't from pulling a body.

Princess Celestia lost her sister, the other who helped run everything, and she didn't break down or away from it. She couldn't or else everything else would do the same. Princesses have to be something more. They're looked up to. They are what most aren't. So in this case... in this case...

The corners of Twilight's eyes strung as the threat of tears welled behind them.

In this case... I don't know what to do.

---

Spike could hardly differentiate the varying state of consciousness and unconscious, elements of each, intermixed, within the state of the other. He felt awake in dreams yet asleep in the periods where his eyes opened and nothing else did.

Everything was but a haze as sensations blended horribly. His claws felt trapped inside of his feet, and those somehow wiggled inside of his chest, a strange feeling of everything not where it belonged. It raged him into fear of which sleep came to save him from.

Every awakening was only slightly better than the last.

“You're awake.”

“Awake in the city in the sky...” Spike fought to open his eyes, two blinks tearing through his will, a view of a ceiling above—feeling as though it loomed miles away. “...or coming-to in the slums where fire was born.”

“I'm afraid it's neither of those things.”

“Drat... means I'm still on the clock then.”

Even before he had the conscious thought to return to work, his speech and mind and instincts drew him toward duty, fighting the feeling of having his claws in his feet to throw the duo onto the sheets over him.

“And just where do you think you're going?” Out of nowhere was how the hands appeared, the pressure of them on his shoulders, of course, without the view of them. His vision and consciousness floated in nothingness while his body somehow remained in the concrete world. “You're in no shape to move! Just keep still and—“

“And we still need to prepare a framework for how the joining of dragons into the equestrian society is going to take place.” Spike groaned as his spirit fought through the weight and the darkness, breaking the surface of an ebony abyss. His eyes blinked into a fuzzy existence once again. “What are the steps for their certification into citizenship? How will they be classified as citizens? What if one, after years of living here, becomes a criminal?”

“Those are issues that can—“

“That has to be presented by the end of the weekend to Princess Celestia herself.” How was he even speaking right now? His mind thickened in a fog as cold electricity jolted at his brain. Refrain. Refrain. I need Refrain. “I know Princess Celestia sent you that scroll. Thinking through theories and paperwork is still something I can do.”

He exhaled a breath—one with a painful hiccup in the middle—that strove to keep his body from tensing. On the surface, he was clean, composed, and relaxed. No reasons for suspicions. Twilight would have to let him do this. “Please, Twilight, let me help you.”

The back of his head rolled onto the pillow until he could see her face overhead. She sat on a chair pulled up to the bed. An expression lost to doubt, she seemed to consider this deeply—until her eyes closed in conviction. Jackpot. “You really do make a good case... don't you?”

“I can even do it in bed too! See? It won't be so bad.” Pushing his claws into the mattress, he attempted to rise—gasping at the aching sensation sliced through. Muffling his pain, he settled back, playing it off. “Little drafting board propped on my thighs and a quill. You can check-in to make sure everything's okay.”

A frown locked miniature bricks to the corners of his lips, another weight and pain and struggle to fight through. Yet Spike finished his plea with a smile that was supposed to set her at ease. “Then, once we're caught up on our work, we can discuss this... little problem of mine.”

Twilight smiled as well. Leaned her head back and blew out air upward. “You know, Spike, I never realized how well you've become at talking.”

He blinked. “How do you mean?”

“Well.” Twilight lowered her head and crossed a leg. “You very nearly convinced me that your drug addiction was only a little problem. Just something you take now and again. You're fighting through intense pain right now, yet, you play it off like nothing. Just light discomfit, right?”

“It is a light discomfort.” Spike pushed on the bed again and strained himself to keep straight—despite the boiling urge to vomit the contents of his stomach. “See? How else... how else.. how else would I...”

He slumped back and recoiled in a scream, fighting to bring his thighs to his stomach—any movement begging for him to hurl. He was stuck keeping them back when he so desperately wanted to curl into a ball. “Nnmmghmm.”

Twilight sighed in disappointment. “I wonder if you were always this good of an actor... or if I was always this bad as a detective.”

“N-No.” Spike gripped his stomach with his claws, pushing down to elate the tension there, bucking his hips to deal with the spasmic discharges. With half of his face buried in the pillow, the other half stared up at her. “Don't blame yourself Twilight. It wasn't a big thing—really. I played it off well. I was able to handle it all. You had worse than me. All of the duties and all of the stakes are on you.”

“Is that how you truly justified it then?” What was she thinking right now? He couldn't read her face because of the haze and blurs obscuring it. Disappointment? Sadness? Anger? Or was she speaking from a state of superiority? “Breaking yourself for my sake?”

“I...” The sentence ended with a breath for, if it didn't, it would have become a lie instead. “It was part of the reason.”

“At least you're finally being honest with me.” Out from the supernova of colours did emerge a face, hers, leaning in close to his. Her eyes looked sad and that face was tired. Nothing tugged at her lips. Not a smile and neither a frown. “A plethora of other means and other drugs could have benefited you the same result. Yet the one you choose caused you to feel good as well—a constant re-summoning of the good feelings and times from the past.”

Spike chuckled as his eye above the pillow shot away. “Can you really blame me for wanting to feel good after all of that overtime?”

“I thought you were doing this to stop me from breaking?”

The sheets and blankets shuffled as he rolled onto his back, gazing up, exhaling another sigh. “It was for that reason, Twilight. Really think I'd go through all of that if it wasn't? Maybe I'm using it a bit to excuse all the Refrain I've used.” He glanced at her. “But that doesn't make my original desire a lie, does it?”

Now it was her time to lower the face and drop her eyes to her thighs out of subtle shame. “I suppose you have me on that one. You've done too many things... for me... that would contradict that. But still.” Her violet gems rose to his, bright enough to glow through the haze, powered in the thought of him. “Why didn't you tell me, Spike? You could have said something. I knew something was up. That something had been wrong with you. But I...”

“But I put up a good show.”

“It wasn't that.” Her eyes clenched shut at his offering of an easy out and, because of his willingness to create a lie for both their sakes, we were deprived of the wonders he desired most. “We've been together for so long and used to be so close before that I... that I knew something was off about you. How you played it off might have helped.”

Her eyes slowly opened and barely kept so. “But if I sat down for a moment and really thought about it. If some night I had pressed you about it. Maybe if I noticed more of the signs.” She shook her head. “I know I would have found out about it if I tried. And I was always going to try. Just once the work was out of the way...”

Spike couldn't help but chuckle. “Once the work was out of the way.”

Twilight flashed a hand to her mouth, laughing as well, the need to laugh not requiring a matter to be funny. “Once the work was out of the way.”

Both sat and laid in the silence of what appeared to be the middle of the night. Sounds of breathing came through in it. Silence came to them only in sleep. Scratching quills and boiling waters and incessant chatter were the daily notifications of progress.

What did silence signify?

Nothing and nothingness.

But it wasn't true silence. Rather the sounds of their breathing composed the scene. Twilight's breaths were slow and composed of weight and heavy on their way out. Stressed resounded from their pitch. Always a block of tension inside her chest.

And Spike was wheezing and not meaning too. It was the true sound behind his pains and the neglect of care for the past few days. Running and walking and flying and talking without stopping to take some air or enjoy a moment or sip instead of gulp a glass of water.

What had been neglected before, came together, waiting for the time to come out in full.

“Here.”

Spike looked up in time to see the bag of ice placed on his forehead, assisting in the relief of internal and turmoil heat. The coolness spread through the warm mist inside of his limbs as he exhaled some of his troubles away. “T-Thanks.”

“This too.”

Twilight leaned to the table next to the bed, turning back with a bottle of water, twisting the cap but keeping it back from him. “I don't trust you to move yet. Just keep still and open your mouth. Let me know if I'm going too fast or if you're done.”

“You kidding? I'm not doing that.” Spike would have crossed his arms if he could... but the very idea threatened to make him vomit. “I'm capable of drinking water from a bottle, Twilight.”

“Of course you are,” she had said without a trace of sarcasm. “I have no doubt you could fight through the pain, struggle through the discomfort, and drink this water. But you don't have to do that Spike. Because I'm here.”

Spike festered in composing a response.

“Won't you please allow me to repay the favour? You've done the same for me y'know.” Twilight leaned forward and hovered the bottle before his snout. “You could have easily woken me up yesterday and led me to bed. Instead you picked me up and tucked me in. Did you have any doubt that I could make it back?”

“It wasn't like that! I just wanted to...”

“Careful about ending your sentence there, Spike, or I may get the wrong idea from that.” Twilight hummed and giggled to herself, always amused when she won the social battle—especially the little games tucked in their conversations. His heart beat wildly at the implications. “But I know you just wanted to help because you could. Now I just want to do the same.”

She brought it to his lips. “So will you please let me do that?”

Spike huffed and smirked as it was a battle lost. He leaned his head back as the cap rested on his lip and gloriously frigid water flushed into his mouth. The dampness of his tongue had been revitalized as he eagerly swallowed the coldness down into his throat. What had been dry and clamped was now returning to life.

Before he knew it, the bottle was leaned up, every drop spent inside him.

“There you go... all better now.” The bottle was pulled away and supplemented by a pair of fingers, catching the droplets around his lips, no care for the place they dared to tread. “Do you want another one or are you okay for now?”

“Think... I'll be alright.”

“That's good.”

Silence struck again. Twilight looked to her lap as if struggling to find something to say. Spike did the same by staring at his chest. His eyes closed as he worried about what it was he was supposed to do now. “So... what happens now?”

“Getting you off that drug is your first priority.”

He clenched an eye at that. “Figured that'd be the case. So what's the trick? Reduce the amount and keep me on a chain?”

“It's too addictive for that.” Twilight bunched her lips together before her next statement. “This is a matter you'll have to go cold turkey for.”

Spike closed his eyes and proceeded to tighten them. “Oh, c'mon, Twi. Don't do that.”

“The effects... won't be as severe.” Twilight laid a hand on his wrist and, despite trying to shake it off, was too weak to follow through on the movement. Her touch, the softness of the fingers, the light fur coating them, their brushing across his scales—it inched his mind away from the pain. “Despite the amount you consumed, your physique was able to handle most of the damage that comes from the side-effects.”

Her hand brushed up and down like a fluffy blanket across his arm. “But a drug is still a drug that affects the system more than anything. And it's because you're a dragon that you... y'know... were more compelled toward it.”

“Because dragons are instinctual or greedy?”

“It could be a case of both.”

“At least you're honest.”

“Stealing my line?”

“Had to find revenge somehow.”

Spike continued to lie back and state at the ceiling far ahead. Twilight always loomed to the side of his vision and, as much as he wanted to look at her... he couldn't. His body boiled and his scales took on a sheen of sweat. His breathing was pained and all mental faculties waded through a haze.

Yet none of those plagued his worries.

“But I promise, Spike, to never leave your side as we get through this.”

It was the girl next to him that did.

“Hey Twilight? Could you... help me to the bathroom?”

---

The first day had passed and Twilight barely thought that it would. She scratched the quill into the scroll but her eyes were blind to the writings. The rolling in the bed and the groaning of the dragon were the only sounds to her ears. After his screaming session, he'd finally fallen asleep, barely keeping unconsciousness, the worst of the pain flooding through him.

Refrain.

“Please... Twilight please... one shot... a little bit... make it go away for me please...”

And she barely had the heart to refuse him.

Even with a bucket of water and a cloth, she was forced to wash him every hour, his body overheating in sweat. Horrible bags developed beneath his eyes and his scales were glossed always by the overproduction of liquids. Everything he drank was either sweated or pissed out. Hardly did anything keep within him for long.

“Just a little bit... only the first dose... I don't tend to need the rest... it's like the first sip of coffee... it puts you in that state...”

Twilight slammed her fist into the table as its case clattered from the impact. He didn't wake from the sound. Only rolling and rolling as the wet wrinkling of his blanket meant it'd have to be changed again. That pillow too. Completely damp after only fifteen minutes.

Her forehead dropped onto the scroll, uncaring of the ink yet to dry, feeling the furs of her face take to a new colour. Had this been her fault? The dragon took to the drug to attain some kind of high. But he hadn't lied about pushing himself. He needed to. Because she had been doing the same.

Is this simply a matter of energy? Is there a finite amount of it? You'd need more to do more. But what of me? Despite the greater intake of work, I didn't end up falling to needing a stimulant. Neither did Princess Celestia.

Twilight blinked as her eyelashes caught in the ink. The princesses have never revealed how they dealt with this problem. Despite raising the sun and lowering the moon, running a nation and keeping a student... Princess Celestia never seemed to be at loss for energy. I hardly ever saw her sleep, and yet, when have I seen her tired?

Twilight raised in her chair and turned her head, looking back at her wings, a hand going for her horn, a connection between the two developing. Ascension came with elevation. Higher and consistent mental acuity with the power to double her duties.

Greater magic and power and energy.

The requirement of a princess.

And one hoping to assist one.

How did I not see it before? Aware but not conscious of it. Spike might be a dragon but that still pales to a princess. He couldn't keep pace with me without going to something, right? Or is that just offering him an excuse?

Twilight stood from her chair and came to the side of the bed, dipping to grab the cloth from the bucket, her other hand reaching for the blanket. Spike shuffled beneath the sheets but didn't throw a fuss. It didn't matter she was there. He was locked within his cocoon of pain.

Slowly peeled—and not pulled—the cover from him. Sweat and such kept the duo stuck as she separated them. His body revolting and helpfully rejecting all that was toxic within him. Leaning over his chest, her own came to rest on his, the support needed to reach his other arm.

Wiping it down and turning it around, the wrist revealed the redness of the skin to be fading—a light patch of scales growing over the spot. That sparked a smile to her lips. At least something good was coming to him. She continued to rock back and forth as she cleaned him off.

Only to hear him moan.

Twilight blinked as the glow of her eyes brightened the second night. Turning his head back to stare at his face, it was still tucked in pain, eyes shut, but a smile across his mouth. She lowered her gaze to her breasts resting on his chest. The situation had called for her to forgo a bra, which left to twins to loosely rest and mesh across him.

And that sensation had taken him, even for a moment, from the agony trapping him.

Her first instinct was to shoot back and stand straight, swallowing in worry, feeling her heart beating a dozen times over. His face returned to pain and once more his struggle reunited with its cause. Twilight's shoulders dropped and so did her eyes. She returned to cleaning him—distantly.

Spike...why did you not tell me about this? You can joke about looking at my butt and even risk feeling good because of my— Twilight shook the thought from her head as blushes overtook the fields of her cheeks—but! But... when it came to overworking you, m-maybe pushing you too far... you didn't say anything.

Twilight came to the end of the bed and scooted the bucket over with a twist of the foot. After submerging the cloth into the waters, she returned to his thighs, round and thick and muscular, a pleasing feeling to search across and around them.

I know I joke about you sometimes being lazy—but rarely is that the case. You were killing yourself here. Yet I teased you about not doing enough. Did that put some kind of pressure on you? Did you want to overcome it and prove yourself somehow?

She shook her head as the cloth reached upward. There'd been a strange delight in washing across his chiselled abdomen, each block of muscle dipping into a slender trench, one pleasant to trace across. Twilight blinked out from her thoughts as her eyes set on his body, truly, for the first time.

I guess... I've never noticed it before.

What were these feelings coursing through her? Guilt tinged with interest? All that running around and doing chores and keeping help on the farm. Spike had grown up and developed well. It was because of the haze of chasing after the next thing that the girl never took a moment to realize all the subtle changes that now ceased to be subtle in her dragon.

Twilight shook her head and resumed cleaning him. Going up to his chest and brushing across the broadness there. Spike's head was still propped on the pillow, pained but less indulged, having come through the worst of it.

And it was his face she went to next. Casting the cloth between a pair of fingers, she dabbed it around his cheek, collecting the sweat, allowing the coolness of the water to settle over his scales. His cheekbones had come in so high and allowed him a dashing—but still goofy—appearance.

Why did you do it Spike? Could you have pushed on without it or was it truly too much for you? Oh who am I kidding—all of this has nearly me on my knees. But you could have asked for less. You know I wouldn't have teased you.

She sighed.

Why didn't you say something, Spike?

---

The worst of it had passed, but even then, a hollow sense of pain remained.

“Sorry about this... again.”

“You don't... have to... a-apologize.. Spike!”

“Right.” Spike and Twilight limped back to the bed, his body leaning into hers, an arm cast over her shoulders—hefty in its own right. Still she brunted and bore his weight as they made it back to the bed. He sat on its side and let Twilight go free. “Then thank you. I can... already feel my thighs getting over their exhaustion.”

“You overworked your muscle and used a medication that dulled the sensations,” Twilight said as she turned and plummeted her rump onto the bed, sitting next to him, earning a confused look from the dragon. The nervousness of a kid overtook her from the suddenness of the act. “I... you don't mind, do you?”

“N-No.” Spike wrapped an arm around his stomach and another to push onto his face, a palm over his eyes, to press back the foul sensations resonating from those locations. The pain was mere addiction. The fogging of the head and the aching of the stomach—pains that would go away with a single dose. “Guess I'm just not used to us being close.”

“You're right with that one.” Twilight inched closer to him in a scoot, a thing barely registered in his head. “The truth of the matter is that I can't think of the last time we've sat side by side, y'know, talking. I know we used to do it a lot when we were younger.“

Spike chuckled. “Don't you mean me listening as you broke down over a subtle thing Celestia said?”

Twilight smugly glared up at him. “Is that so? How about all those long nights of the broken heart there mister Casanova?”

“If it's any consolation to myself—I got the flair for melodrama from you.”

“The one thing I didn't want you to learn? Aren't you just the best assistant now.'

“Not an assistant for long.”

He'd blinked as the words left. Damn it. He'd really said that.

“What did you—“

“Not much of an assistant for long I mean,” he continued in looking over at her. Twilight looked up at him as concern flashed over her face. She scooted an inch back. “Being sick like this. Forced to be off that drug after this is over. Won't be able to keep up like I used to.”

Twilight continued to sit there. She'd been dressed in a simple white dress shirt with a rich ebony skirt below. Her chin dipped in thought as tension relaxed from her eyes. It was with a smile that she spoke again. “None of that is true... is it?”

Spike should have been insulted but couldn't for a lie revealed, despite being painful, couldn't spark legitimate irritation. Rather he turned his head away, clenching an eye, the throbbing center of his brain demanding Refrain. “Got me. But none of that was wrong.”

Twilight's eyes narrowed on him in a way born from pain. “What do you mean Spike? You'll always be my assistant.” Now it was her turn to turn away. “At least until you don't want to be anymore.”

“And that day will never come.” Had those words flown so easily from him? Again the pains came and pulsated again. That claw on his head tightened its digits into his scales, hurting himself, but alleviating some of the pain. “Not that I mean it to that extent. B-But I do! It's just that, agh...”

He fell back as the mass of the bed bore his weight, sinking inches into the mattress as it impressed beneath him, the springs beneath pushing him up. He kept like that while attempting to repress his agony. “Just ignore everything I say. These headaches are just the worst and I... I'm never on point when I'm not on Refrain.”

There hadn't been much expectation on what the next move would be. Once more came the press of the bed as another laid back on it. Hair flourished outward and covered the sheets as the girl came to lie down next to him.

“Who cares if you're on point or not?” Twilight asked with the faintest hint of a giggle, an inch away from him, a warmth radiating from her body. “This isn't some chamber and I'm not an ambassador. You're allowed to stumble and get things wrong.” She exhaled. “Just as long as you keep trying to get things right.”

Spike rolled his head to the side until he was gazing into Twilight's face. It was soft and round and encased in violet furs. Celestia she'd always been beautiful. Glowing gems for eyes framed and accentuated by her eyelashes. A touch of excessive fluff rounded her cheeks but kept maintained on her lips.

Those little and supple things of perfection capable of holding the world with their movement alone; they were a divinity to be blessed to the one who could ever hope to be deserving of them. But hardly any prince seemed deserving of them in his mind.

And this his eyes glanced down to her chest. “You know you forgot to wear a bra, right?”

“Quit looking where you're not supposed to be!” Twilight laughed and lightly pushed his face away. “And that's not going to change the subject.”

Spike winced as frozen sludge slid down the inner-curves of his skull. Twilight gasped and yanked back her hand. “Sorry! Sorry.”

“Don't be.” Few seconds and the pain was gone. “Price to pay for making a crummy joke. My head is always looking for the next thrill. Now it's throwing a temper-tantrum until it gets what it wants.”

Silence stole the scene for a second.

“Is that it then? T-The drug I mean... part of it was for a thrill?”

“It wasn't all like that—damn it!” Spike slammed the back of his head into the bed and did so again to relieve venom condensing inside his head. “It's why I need that drug! It puts me in the right state where everything fits in place! You feel nice and high and so alive! Good memories fuelling everything!”

Twilight sighed and did not speak for a long time. Where he would have taken a dose to be awake and always in the zone—the girl allowed herself moments to compose herself. The world moved fast and one had to be quicker than that to stay on top of it. But the world was out there... and their world was in this room.

Where everything went as fast or as slow as they let it.

“I suppose I miss that thrill too.”

Spike blinked and turned to look at her. But Twilight was already gazing up at the ceiling with her hands clasped over her stomach. She bore the face of someone in the process of something, at peace as they worked through it, confident that they'd make it to the end okay.

“All those adventures and villains and silly escapades we had with our friends... there was always a thrill in being in the middle of all it.” Twilight sighed as her eyes were cast to the side. “I'll admit none of this paperwork even comes close to all of that. Even the buzz of learning is short in dopamine.”

Spike's expression lost itself in thought as well and, like the princess next to him, he decided to gaze up at the ceiling as well. When was the last night he was allowed to do this? Doing nothing and lying back in bed, looking at a wall, simply allowing himself to exist?

“Maybe it's because I was so busy with duty that I didn't notice it before... how dull my life was becoming... and it felt... wrong... to maybe want more, to want beyond that.” She laughed awkwardly and rolled a hand in the air. “Can't forgo becoming the princess I was groomed to be throughout my life.” Her head rolled over to look at him. “Right?”

“Afraid being off that drug voided me of having the right answer here.” Spike exhaled and closed his eyes, taking a moment to search within, rather than seeking a stimulant to do so for him. “Once you're locked in, you're locked in, as you're bound by a feeling within... that duty, that thing is what you're meant to do.”

“Exactly what I—“

“But I think you can decide how you go about that thing.” Spike opened his eyes and they glowed a little brighter as they did so. “Just because you have to take Celestia's place doesn't mean you have to be like her. You'll find others to help lead the nation so you can still go on adventures and hang with friends. Becoming a princess doesn't mean you stop being a girl.”

He blew out an air of tension and it took away some of his pain. “We might have to go in the same direction as those before us—but that doesn't mean we have to follow their footsteps.” Next he sighed. “Or something like that. I don't know. Am I even speaking straight?”

Something brushed and snuggled next to him, a warm body curving into his own, the feeling of fabric teasing warmth and softness of the fur beneath. He rolled his head to see Twilight's an inch from his own. Her breath flushed across his cheek. “I think your words could use some refining... but there's definitely a heart to them. Just you wait Spike. You'll see that you didn't need anything to be yourself.”

Sadness struck and there was no hiding it. “And is myself... good enough?”

“Of course it is.”

Spike wanted to believe in her words as so many problems and pains would go away. But he couldn't. Mere superficially could absolve the wounds diving deep with their origins now unknown. What he was had to be proven and, until it could be, he had to improve.

One felt more proven in pain than they did in pleasure.

“What about all of those duties you had me doing? They still need to be done.”

“You still would have been able to do them and done them well on your own time.”

“But we don't have that time.”

“T-Then I'll do as you said! Hire help and maybe getting a system going.” Twilight blinked as her eyes flashed brighter in realization. “That's what Celestia does! She has maids to clean and chiefs to cook and nobles to help in the affairs of politics. This whole time she's been dumping more on us. But maybe it isn't to prove that we're capable of doing it all.”

Spike swallowed and closed his eyes as he waited for the final nail to be staked into his coffin.

“Maybe this is her seeing if we have what it takes to finally ask for help! To finally outfit the castle to be like a castle! We'll do just that!” Twilight clapped her hands together giddily. “That way you have to do less and less! You won't feel the need to go into hyper-drive! Heck, if we find enough help—then you won't have to do anything at all!”

Silence.

“So you finally said it.”

Twilight blinked as they still laid face to face. “Said what?”

“Think about it Twilight.” Spike did his best to smile as everything within came crumbling down. Feeling like a ghost, he worried about fading as the future proclaimed spoke of such. “Why... why do you think I was working so hard? I'm nothing special. Never have I been able to hold a candle to you.”

“What does that have—“

Spike placed a digit on her lips and hated himself for how they impressed into the pair—the greatness of the sensation he was undeserving of. “So far you've been able to rely on me to do everything. You've never had to look outward for help because of that. But the moment I faltered... I knew you'd come to this.”

He sighed and finally looked down at the covers between them. “Because the truth is I can't do every one thing perfectly. From making dinner to figuring out those advanced equations... I'm nothing to a chief or mathematician tasked with only doing that one component.”

Spike tried to lift his eyes to find that he couldn't.

“So then... where does that leave us? I was your number-one assistant because I could do a wide range of everything for you.” What was he even going on about at this point? His mind blanked and his body depleted on energy. He was talking to talk now. All with the vain hope that by the end of it all—everything would somehow make sense. “You were my princess back then. But now that you're one to the world now... I could never compete with that—even on the drug.”

Twilight's hand wrapped around his wrist and, instead of pushing it away, pulled it onto her chest. Right above the place he feared to tread where all was still soft and warm. Where, beneath the surface, a heart was beating. “Has that been your fear Spike? That I would replace you and soon not need you?”

“You won't need me as much.” Spike shook his head and dared to press on. “I know you'll never send me away. But what fate awaits me? A monthly visit? Everything you'd need me for is to deal with the dragons—and that means keeping there instead of here with you.”

Twilight's eyes slid to the side. It was true and she could not refute it.

“I don't care what happens to me.” Placing his other claw on her chin, he lifted it, all so he could smile into her eyes. “I take and be whatever you need to be of service before any of that happens. I know it's selfish to say and that you could never allow such a thing to happen. But I'd rather kick it on the drug than be forced out of your life.”

Twilight laid there as she did battle with a hundred different things. Revelation after reveal to feelings fighting opposing feelings. Spike couldn't feel his scales cracking away and his soul breaking for throwing his princess into such turmoil. He'd rather have kept all of this to himself if he could.

---

Twilight was torn asunder in all that had been revealed and, for someone who spent her life inside of books, could not summon any words. Rather everything clicked and she did not want it to. Unable to trust in the ingenious inventions of her head, the girl was forced to speak from the heart.

“Refrain... it fuels you on the power of good memories.” Spike's face loomed before her own, set inches higher than her own. Smooth purple scales darker in shade but feeling brighter somehow. “Those good memories you lived off. Were they... of me?”

“I... of course they were.” His eyes darted away and his cheeks blushed. “It reminded me of what life was like before you got those wings. How close we used to be. That maybe someday... I dunno... it could happen again.”

Rage summoned by sorrow heated the blood in her veins. How could he be so down on himself? Neglecting all that he was and had come to be. Yet he thought he needed to be more. Grow to what?

“Spike... how could you be so foolish?” Keeping his claw held to her heart, Twilight rolled on top of him, spreading her legs as her thighs squished into his sides. She looked down at him as he looked up. Was that the basis of the relationship they held now? “Pushing yourself through all that because you were afraid I'd let you go. Do you have any idea how that makes me feel? I hate myself!”

“D-Don't say that!”

“But I do, Spike, because of everything I did to you.” Tears stung at the corners of her eyes as Twilight nearly broke. “That I made you so scared that I'd someday go away; that you'd need to put your health on the line to keep with the work.”

“None of that is your fault!”

“I know it is! I hate... hate... hate whatever this is!” Twilight leaned forward and closer to him, feeling one of the button pop from her shirt, uncaring of such a fact. “That I didn't feel like I had the time or energy to sit and talk with you. Or how you were afraid to do the same! We used to be so close... and now... we're so far apart... and I hate it!”

Twilight sobbed. Head lowered and eyes closed and tears dropping freely. Everything tensed in spams as sorrow had its way with her. Fighting back her hiccups did nothing as everything repressed now became expressed.

The claw on her chest sank deeper into her chest and, from her side, his other arm hooked itself around her back. He laid his claw there, rubbing it around, doing his best to coax out the breakout from her.

Just like was his duty as an assistant.

“I'm sorry Twilight.” She could hear the strings breaking in his voice. “I'm so so sorry I put you through that. I was just afraid of what you say. What might happen. I didn't want to test fate. I knew it had to come. But I didn't want it to come soon.”

Spike took deep breaths, inspiring the same from her, the duo cooling down.

“And I was so focused on me that I didn't think about what my actions would put you through.” He chuckled and hiccuped simultaneously. “I never actually considered you—I mean I did! And didn't at the same time.” He exhaled another deep breath. “I was so confused Twilight. I didn't know what would happen or what to do.”

Twilight finished her crying with a bout of small laughter, a hand to wipe away her tears, the truth becoming revealed inside this moment. The two hadn't shared a moment like this in years. It'd been their trademark to fall and melt into the other.

“Spike... you said that others could replace you... but that's simply not true.” Twilight placed her arms on either side of his head, of both he glanced at, returning up as she came down. “Because none else could be you. None know or care for me as deeply to get me through this moment. None comfort me like you do.”

Spike lightly swallowed. “And you do the same for me, Twilight.”

“It's because we do it for each other.” His face grew closer and she couldn't help but be smitten by it. The soft complexion of dashing intermixed with kindness. There'd been a reason why his eyes glowed a soft emerald. “None else has been there for me like you. We'll have to find more help eventually. But there are some things only you can do... and only one dragon you can be.”

Twilight fell onto his lips and locked into place, the feeling and the sensation from the kiss flowing into her frame, alleviating every tense muscle, all the hard-tied knots, every brick of compressed pressure starting to dissolve.

Never before had Spike's eyes widened so much, his pupils vibrated in place, unable to keep still. Pain faded from him. That head of his was always seeking the next thrill—and she was able to give it to him. Slowly was how his lids closed and slowly was the word for hers as well.

Irony found a perfect home for the duo caught in a race of duty and improvement, each forgetting their dates in Canterlot Gardens, the picnics during a summer afternoon. Those breeze sweeping away her mane and caressing his scales. The moment and events adding value and bringing meaning to life.

And one didn't need to be any greater than themselves to experience it.

Seconds passed until the lips broke away—until Spike's leapt up and stole hers again. Firm and flexing were the smooth scales, a kind different from the rest, that worked into the kiss. And she offered him the same. The furs on her lips joined by their supple shape composing the other side to his desire. No longer did he groan from what his mind had been deprived of.

And she had moaned as well, not knowing of the time she had done so last, a tingly desire buried beneath duty. Twilight's body flooded with life and she hoped the same with him. Dullness faded as what had been lost was now reclaimed.

Finally the kiss broke.

“I have a feeling, Spike, you don't have to worry about losing me.”

“You sure about this?”

“Oh shut up.”

And finally the kiss returned.

Author's Note:

The less one focuses on being a writer, and instead invests those efforts into writing itself, will ironically become a better writer for it. Concern yourself less with standards and instead present yourself with the most fun way to begin a scene and then comes the serene bestowed by this craft alone.

There is a wonderfully horrible energy drink called Monsters. Do not drink these. They are incredible in taste and their kick elevates you into a state of mental acuity. It's the middle of and an inch away from between nirvana or euphoria to speak truly.

It was that uniqueness I was helplessly attracted to.

Four cans a day to keep terribleness at bay. Stories feel better told and jokes then funnier when hyped on a can of the stuff. Whenever the writing became dull or the next knot of plot had yet to be figured out—another sip of electric green and I was blasting through the word count.

And my heart beats faster as it counts down to a heart attack.

I'd been stolen by the belief that, for my writing to be good or, to even be able to write at all... that I needed to be on the stuff. Every writing session I needed to have a Monster beforehand or I wouldn't be able to strike a word. Same in person as well. I couldn't be entertaining in all its degrees without first being brought up.

Then a bad day struck and I was forced to consider some things.

Monsters ignite a spark of a thrill and leads your actions to find something to stack on it. This can be good in a sense. Playing up a game or a story or a moment. Finding something dull and bloated it with life. There is nothing wrong with finding or creating more entertainment in your day to day life.

But I was also going down routes better left unexplored.

Once the bad day had ended and I woke up the next, I realized that, even if I had another, it wouldn't dull the feelings and sensations of yesterday. Not only that... but what was the point? Was I only 'good' if I was hyped up on the stuff? Would I forever possess this dependency?

I decided to quit, like I had tried to, countless times before.

But the problem before was I deepened on those drinks to do well. I couldn't write or perform without them. Because there was a metric I had to reach, I had to be on them, hence the cue for addiction. But was that the reason I'd begun writing in the first place? To do well at it?

I came to writing with a sole goal.

To write about Spike carrying Twilight Sparkle in his arms.

People write to experience their fantasies and, in so doing, unknowingly come to express themselves deeply on a semi-unrelated note to that. Readers read for somewhat the same reason. All desire to become immersed in a story for, inside of that immersion, it either grants or relieves something our psyches crave deeply.

Waking up in a bed awash in sunlight to feel someone underneath the covers with you.

To hold a sword and take down a titan and to enjoy the deep conversations around a campfire.

And to scale a giant woman.

Okay. Maybe that last one is just me. But the point still stands.

The more you focus on your desires, and the less you fixate on your doubts, the better those fantasies will be. Writing well is based on content and substance. Those two are composed of your desires. Doubt is there to keep them refined. Not to prevent them. Lose yourself when able.

It was with these thoughts in mind that, in bed, gripping my head, unable to sleep due to headaches... I desired to write. Write what? I needed characters and a premise and a theme and some pacing and plotting to ensure the work came out well. Doubts stack on that for the effort needed to absolve them.

But quite simply.

I wanted to write a story where Spike is trying to kick addiction and Twilight, being Twilight, figures the thrills of sex will take his mind off his pains. Her body doesn't mean much to her but means greatly to him. That in itself pleases her for it can do something for him. Maybe that's not the best theme to be preaching—but not all morals are squeaky in their cleanliness.

So there I was. Caught on my laptop and barren of clothes, leaning forward, in pain and nearly craving cocaine. Writing well dictated I needed to be at my PC, hyped up on a Monster, in the proper mood and mindset to write.

And here I was saying fuck that.

This story came and, when it did, the side effects of severe caffeine avoidance started to fade. Swept up in the story allowed me to forget what brought me there in the first place. Perhaps there is an irony in that. Pain fades from Spike as he immerses himself with Twilight.

And the same becomes true of me, in coming to write this piece, so immersed and addicted to writing, that the urge for Monsters before this composition has all but faded and was nearly forgotten about.

I didn't come to writing to write well.

I came to writing because I enjoy it in a fashion no other medium provides.

Writing should be enjoyable even when it's not.

For it's through those struggles that present the higher rewards later on.

~ Yr. Pal, B ~

Comments

[zachary12]

nice work.

[FanficReader920]

I could totally see Spike doing this. The Spike Master does it again!

[Zorobak]

Twilight and Spike are wholesome and adorable.

[PanzerBug]

Based and epic and twipilled

[concordion]

Only a few paragraphs in, and I can already tell this is something special. The characters talk like they really know each other, with backstory and shared history. Spike doesn't sound like some simpering baby dragon. And just a few hints of something sexual. You've got a way with characters and dialog that I dig.

[Yutah123]

With the... cover art and the author, I was very surprised to see that it was not, in fact, clop.

I've never seen such a borderline image on a T-rated before.

[Herpaderpderp]

checked for the thumbnail, stayed for the feels.

[DarkDMan]

Not bad.
Drugs are bad, m'kay! But the story is good!

Hoping these fav and likes to the story is a restart to your Spilight juices!

[Vis-a-Viscera]

And suddenly, I'm reminded - almost too vividly - of Littlepip's engagement with Party-Time Mint-Als from Fallout: Equestria. So much nearly lost, so much on the need to feel competent and a world that endlessly shifts away from your specialties - and the addictive drug that pretends to take that pain of obsolescence away.

You're a great author, man. Really, only one little flaw stands out, but it's nothing compared to the tenderness of the moment this all leads to:

No. I can't risk giving him a violent reaction to teleportation or magic given his current state.

Sorry. reviewing's just instinctual to me. But if you win Back At It Again, you deserve it. Good luck, one competitor to a far more passionate one such as yourself.

[B_25]

10289305
Thanks for the compliment and the save homie. Kind words are what allow creative ones to go on.

Lift a Glass was an enjoyable read and I'm sure it'll do well.

Hope to catch you again.
~ Yr. Pal, B

[Vis-a-Viscera]

10289335

It wasn't the only one I made for that contest, either. I'm 2-1 in terms of entries, and yet this still feels like it's your match to lose. Again, though: Good luck.

[B_25]

10289342
One never loses if they enjoyed writing their story—but I understand what you mean.

Good luck to you as well homie.

Please keep writing for all of us.
~ Yr. Pal, B

[BetaHammer]

That afterword really put a smile on my face. Glad to see you’re still writing Spilight.

[B_25]

Quick message to my dislikers.

Dislike me all you please and press that red-thumbs down on as many ALTS as you wish. I will outwrite you. In writing and commenting and in being myself. The time you waste in refreshing my page I will already have another story written. To all the comments you dislike I will upvote and so too will others. Disliking others due to a dislike of me is silly. And others will see through it.

But continue as you are, for, at the end of all this, all you will have is wasted time.

For the rest.

Thank you for reading my story.
~ Yr. Pal, B

[Draco Rex Solis]

10289586
Well said

[Raven Blackwood]

10289586
Amen, dude! Amen to that!

[B_25]

10289626 | 10289667
Thank you homies!
~ Yr. Pal, B

[Charlie_K]

Stop it. Some of this is hitting too close to home.

[Grailm]

Outstanding and nice use of the drug from Code Geass. Great story.

[Noobly60]

Amazing story!

[cheetored20]

This story is pretty cool, didn't know what to expect from it, but I enjoyed it.
That author's note was deeep.

[Breakfateschain]

Is... is someone just going along disliking each comment for some reason?

[Yutah123]

10289735
Indeed.

[Raven Blackwood]

10289735
Yeah. I've noticed it too. It looks like this has also been affecting a few threads in groups where there is someone disliking people's threads and replies. Not sure what is going on.

[Gavier]

Great story! I loved the commentary at the end, it's always fantastic to get an insight into the author.

[Bsbrony]

Wonderfully amazing story! 3 hrs of sleep in the past 3 days made it hard to keep up but when I could it was heartwarming/heartbreaking. Keep up the great work man.

[Orrm]

Spike sounds like a slave who got so thoroughy indoctrinated that he is quite literally incapable of even considering the remote possibility that Twilight, his legal owner, could be bad in any sense of the word.

Funniest thing is, Twilight doesn't recognize what she has done. Through the use of the carrot and stick method, she has created the perfect slave, one which thoroughly relies on HER alone to even exist, and is willing to depreciate his own health in order to be of greater use to her,while rationalizing that, "I'd be replaced if I wasn't better".

Now, funny thing about that statement is that it implies he initially has a low value to begin with, the followup expressively states that he only finds value in himself when helping Twilight in her duties, it's true to the show, in that sense.

Also, you imply that Spike has been taking drugs, or at least became distant from Twilight over the past few years, I'd average 3-7 based on how young they behave. This shows that Twilight in fact, does not value Spike in a personal sense, but rather, she values him for what he can do for her, given that he does not exceed her in capability.

In fact, the only exception and likely the only reason that she found him suspicious NOW is becuase his ability to do her work surpassed anythign she could accomplish, the slave became better at the slave master's job.

I'd imagine she felt threatened by it or, more likely, thought something was wrong, a cycle going along the lines of "He can't possibly be naturally better than me, he's my assistant" or any variation of it. Then, she took drastic action and found this.

True enough to the show though, I will commend you on that. You perfectly portrayed how neurotic and unknowingly good of a pet trainer Twilight is.

[B_25]

10290399
whack

[B_25]

10289008
Thanks homie.

Reading comments like that flare another stroke of fire to writing spirit.

Thanks homie.
~ Yr. Pal, B

[Zamairiac]

10289586

Disliking others due to a dislike of me is silly. And others will see through it.

Not to compare, but this is literally any and every story I create. Disliked not because of what it is but because of who wrote it. At least that's what I assume. Those brave soldiers never quite manage to explain themselves.

Carry on man, you're doing good.

[B_25]

10290689
I feel that.

And good to see you still around and kicking homie.
~ Yr. Pal, B

[Yutah123]

Huh. I was surprised by the relevations in the Author's Note.

But I think that you've done very well for yourself, B. To write a story parallel to your life and struggles and write it well, all while overcoming those struggles...

It's poetic, inspiring.

I believe in you, in you without anything else.

[Chaos Blitz]

Shouldn't this also have a narcotics tag because of Spike using Refrain?

Imcredible story though. I look foward to more of your arts!

[Dapper Mutt]

I mean, don't get me wrong here, it doesn't really matter, but you may want to consider that the current cover art is a measly bit "showing" for a non-mature rated story, and that as surprising as it is there are a handful of younger people on the site, even if they tend not to have profiles.

[B_25]

10291588
That means a lot coming from you homie.

Glad you enjoyed the work.
~ Yr. Pal, B

[raw19]

Truly deep.

Most excellent.

[A Drunk Soviet]

The disliking rampage reminds me of the good old days of Bad Monday's and the serial disliker, I miss that story.

Regardless, you did a good job b, keep up the good work!

[ArDee]

Utterly amazing. Completely captivating. Adverb adjective.

Seriously, though. Hooked from start to finish, and the A/N made me realize things about myself that I'd never really taken the time to think about before, especially in regard to why I even started writing clopfics in the first place. I strive to write this sort of thing -- undercurrents of romance without being overt and disingenuous, that mutual understanding and connection between people who have lived with each other for years, and suggestions of sexuality without being blase and trashy.

I'm loathe to go "here" in a comment, especially since I feel like I'm rambling and focusing too much on myself, but my issue is I just haven't experienced anything concerning relationships; it's hard if not impossible to grasp something that I have no personal frame-of-reference to draw from. I understand the concepts, but not their deeper emotional meanings, or how it feels to be in that situation. I can gleam some inkling of it by stories like this one, and the emotional undercurrents that run through them and motivate them, but it's not the same. Or maybe it is, and I'm just ascribing too much value to the concept of "experience"? A curious thought.

I know how to write sex, and from responses I'm getting I suppose I can say "write sex well," but I don't know how to have it be anything more than trashy, fetishy fap-fuel. I know that's what a lot of people who read clopfics want anyways--because porn is porn at the end of the day no matter how you arrange it--but still. It's hardly wrong to want to write with more emotional depth...

I'm gonna stop here before I make this comment even longer and more self-indulgent than it already is, lol.

Ruddy good job, B. Stay clean and stay awesome.

[Sarge1995]

I've got to say, B_25...as someone struggling with a potentially lethal alcohol addiction and trying to find a way out of it, without the help to get out just yet...this story really touched me. Thank you for this piece of art.

[twalaight sparkhul]

Sadness struck and there was no hiding it. “And is myself... good enough?”
“Of course it is.”

oof

"[...] I know it's selfish to say and that you could never allow such a thing to happen. But I'd rather kick it on the drug than be forced out of your life.”

OOF

Real good hard hitting moments. Love the long tail-end on this piece.

[Red Neck]

I got to say your writing is amazing compared to many authors I seen on here

[Orphan]

The fav is 2/3 for the AN. I loved the story, and it would've been faved so hard. Then when I read the Author's Note, my mind was blown in the best of ways.

10295174
Not to mention, sometimes the romance is so thick, that's what makes the clop good in the first place. They don't have to cancel each other out. A very different style of clopfic, it can be. And yet, clopfics that major heavy in emotion so deep? Rivals only with cheap, empty, fangirl-coated, Mary-Sue Hermaphrodite Twilight Sparkle.

Anyone ever notice how wonderful her name is? The letters are all so even. short ones, tall ones, danglies. They're all so well placed and distributed. It make me so happy to see in a cartoon character. *sigh*

P.S.
If you want me to remove the "H" word from my comment, just say so please. Or any others for that matter.

[B_25]

10295174
I feel that. I've no experince with romance or sex—which, as can be joked and gleamed, is apparent in the writing—but it also allows a new spin onto things. The subject and the act is born from the desire and your current interpretation of it all. Therefore it becomes unique. And that which you do not know can be learned via other means.

And you seem like an interesting fellow. Comment often and ramble about yourself. It's exactly that expression that causes others to become interested in us.

---

10295564
Thanks for the kind words homie. One never expects their work to do more than merely exist. So it's always a pleasure to hear it's done slightly more than that. Keep well broski.

---

10296334 | 10296568
Thanks for the kind words from the two of you. Glad those moments mattered to another. And thanks as well for the compliment.

---

To all.
~ Yr. Pal, B ~

[ArDee]

10296687

The subject and the act is born from the desire and your current interpretation of it all. Therefore it becomes unique. And that which you do not know can be learned via other means.

I suppose there is, indeed, a beauty in perspective. There's no instruction book for the finer points of fiction crafting, and it can be both exhilarating and intimidating in equal measure. Inventively filling in gaps in background knowledge can have a charm all its own if it's done well--covering for a lack of familiarity with a unique touch to the end result, another facet of the gem.

I suppose the best way I could put it is that writing, like any art form regardless of its topic, medium, era, or intention, is a reflecting pool that crystallizes our thoughts, emotions, and experiences into something tangible, something with permanence, something real that others can take in and ascribe their own personal significance to. Perhaps there are more "obviously" appropriate forms of art to apply this line of thought to--classical music, modernist paintings, organic architecture, you name it--but the medium of the message (in this case, My Little Pony fanfiction) does not, in any measure, inherently detract from its significance, importance, or meaningfulness.

Wow. Saying all that makes me remember why I love late-night writing so much; the night provides a window into the mind that I find myself struggling to look through in the light of day.

And you seem like an interesting fellow. Comment often and ramble about yourself. It's exactly that expression that causes others to become interested in us.

Thank you, I appreciate that greatly. I guess it's just that I'm not too used to putting my introspections down on paper, so to speak, hmmhmm.

---

10296685 Yes, there is definitely a danger in overly flowery, prose-filled language. SS&E's Background Pony, cornerstone of ponyfic though it may be, is heavily guilty of this--many enjoyed it, obviously, but even as a voracious reader I found myself unable to overcome the difficult-to-read excess of words where far fewer could have been used.

On the more extreme end, and speaking generally: nobody wants to hear someone go on-and-on about how great their waifu is--it comes off as irritating, self-centered, and "cringy" (as nebulous as that word is.) Even someone who shares a fascination with the same character isn't likely going to appreciate it--they have their own reasons for liking the character, and the beauty and curse of fanon is that everyone fills in the blanks in their favorite characters' lives differently.

[uioui]

My friend it has been too long since I've come back to the fandom. But I am glad you are still here and writing wonderful fiction. To the days ahead :)

[B_25]

10298718
Glad to see you back homie. You got me started on this path. So I can only thank you for it.
~ Yr. Pal, B

[uioui]

10298982
Very happy to read those words, been jumping between fandoms recently but hopefully I'll find the energy to write again for this one. Cheers!

[Ice Star]

The amount of downvotes that this has is staggering and incredibly surprising. Especially since this is a real gem of a story. The prompt is unique and personal, and I'm glad to be competing against it. Your usual delicious banter is in top form here and your flowing prose keeps a fun rhythm for the story. Character voices are easy to spot and fun to listen to. I couldn't believe the word count had gone by that quickly either.

Keep slaying monsters, 🅱. Whether that monster is a box of green sludge that shouldn't be touched or the top o' the feature box.