They sat at the dinner table, Spike at its head, eating gratefully from the dishes he had prepared. No one had much to say, until they were finished.

“Oh, Twilight, I searched for a book on Snowdrift, but I couldn’t find anything,” Spike said, standing.

“Nothing?”

“Nothing. You don’t have any books specifically about it.”

“Hm. That’s strange.”

“You said it was mentioned in a few history books. Are you sure it still exists?”

“I’m sure, Spike.”

They helped him clean up and went out to the front room, and Pinkie left as soon as everything was settled; at Twilight’s questions, she said only that she was going to Sugarcube Corner, and wouldn’t be long.

The others dispersed through the library, leaving only Fluttershy to stand close by, curious, while Twilight settled on the couch with a pair of books: one on Equestrian prehistory, when Discord had ruled; and one on magical divination, to learn more about the spa twins’ warning.

As soon as she opened the first book to its table of contents, Twilight’s focus narrowed in, and her surroundings were lost. As she skimmed the chapters for what she wanted, Spike—fidgety, nervous, and excited—moved up the stairs.

Rarity had decided to keep all her dressmaking materials in Twilight’s room, with the exception of the mannequin, which she had relocated to the basement. She entered and closed the door behind her, looking at the meager pile of fabric she had managed to salvage from the boutique.

“Somehow, I need to make six, no, seven—one for Spike—funeral outfits out of this,” she said quietly to herself, surveying the careful folds of fabric for any ideas that might jump out at her.

She had designed funeral outfits before, though they were not in high demand. The small town was fairly safe and had a staff of competent, caring doctors and physicians; ponies simply didn’t die very often. The last time she had made a funerary dress was about a year and a half ago, not a week before Twilight moved to Ponyville. She was about to get to work with a design when someone knocked on the door.

“Just a moment,” she said, trying to say it with her usual singsong voice; it came out strained and a little impatient-sounding. She opened the door to reveal Spike, standing at the threshold with an anxious look on his face. “Oh, Spike, hello again. Do you want to come in?”

He nodded and entered after her, closing the door behind him softly. He made to speak, but hesitated and looked away, blushing; it was then that Rarity knew what was coming. She had known for months how he felt, but now, she had no time to prepare for it.

“Rarity, I have to tell you something,” he began, as he had so many times before in private.

“What is it, Spike?” She let her voice soften as she said it, as she always did in Spike’s fantasies; he seemed to palpitate before her, and pressed on.

“Uh… geez, this is hard. Um, ever since I saw you, uh, that is, met you, I’ve, uh…”

She turned and looked at him, feigning uncertainty as to what he would say.

“Well, I’ve always, um, well,” he scratched the back of his neck, and Rarity held her expression, all the while mentally urging him on. “Come on, Spikey Wikey. You can do it. Don’t back out now.”

“I mean, you’re probably wondering why I’m up here. Since you’re, you know, leaving soon, I might not have another chance to say this.”

“Whatever you have to say, Spike, I’m listening.”

He sighed gratefully. “Well, I always felt like I…” He trembled, clenched and unclenched his claws, and, for a moment, Rarity thought he wasn’t going to say it, that he would go running from the room. “I… love you,” he finally said, and as the words left him, she could almost see the burden of secrecy he had kept lift from his shoulders.

She stared. She had seen it coming, and had prepared herself for the confession many times before, knowing that her friendship with him would hinge upon her critical response. In the moment, however, faced with his unassuming, but misguided affection, all her responses dried up. Nothing huge, or profound in its simplicity, escaped her lips, nor even an acknowledgement of understanding—instead, she uttered a single syllable of confusion: “buh?”

He looked down and made to reiterate, but she stopped him.

“Y-you don’t have to say it again, Spike; I know what you said. It’s just, just so much. You understand, don’t you?”

“Yeah, I guess it is a lot to take in,” he said, his confidence trickling back.

“And I can’t say I’m not flattered; nopony, or dragon, has ever said that to me, at least not in the way that you mean it.” She smiled weakly, dreading what she would have to do next.

“Well, I mean it, every time I think it, every word.” He inched closer, and she stared, trying to marshal her thoughts into some sort of coherent response. Apparently taking too long, he spoke again. “So, uh, what do you think?”

“…I think… that… you are a very nice dragon, Spike, and I” (“Oh Celestia, please don’t let him get any ideas”) “love you too, but… more as a friend than a, um, something else.”

She couldn’t see it on his face, but she assumed it easily enough: his heart was breaking. “Truly, Spike, you are one of the best friends I’ve ever had the pleasure of having, and I count myself lucky every day that that is so, but I just… don’t love you in that way. I’m really sorry.” And she was.

He clutched the door-frame tightly, eyes averted. “No, it’s okay, R—it’s okay. I guess I shouldn’t have expected you to feel the same way. It’s just, I don’t feel this way a lot, or, ever, really. I mean, I love Twilight, and all of you others, but with you, it’s just… different, somehow.”

“Trust me, Spike, I know the feeling. But you must accept that not all things can work out how we want them. I truly am sorry.”

He sighed a long, melancholy sigh. “It’s okay. I… it’s fine.” He looked down. “Um, well, at least you know now.” He turned around and opened the door, speaking very softly. “I guess I’ll just get out of your hair now.” He left, closing the door quietly behind him.

She sat back on her haunches and thought. He had only been in the room for five minutes, but it felt like an hour had passed, and dressmaking didn’t sound very appealing anymore. She walked to the window and opened it, smiling emptily as the cool night air touched her face.

“Why do you have to love me, Spike?” she whispered. “I don’t want to hurt you, but... ugh, stupid dragon.” She stopped talking and moved her rant to the privacy of her thoughts, just in case somepony, or worse still, Spike, was listening.

“How can you say that you love me? You don’t even know me, not really. You just have a crush, Spike, a stupid crush that fillies and colts get for each other. And you expect me to feel the same way for you? You’re not even the same species as me! I mean, I know there are examples of cross-species relationships, but,” she stopped for a moment to reorient herself; she was on a roll, and no tangents would stop her from indulging in her bad mood.

“Stupid, ignorant dragon. How long has he been waiting to say that to me? How many months has he been secretly loving me like that?” There was a flash of understanding through her mind. “Oh, Celestia, what if he… was attracted to me? Oh, I don’t even want to imagine the fantasies he’s had, the sick, humiliating things I’ve done with him in his dreams.”

The realization was too much for her, and she shuddered, letting out a little gasp-moan as she forced her eyes shut. As disgusted as she was, her traitorous mind refused to change topics. Scene after scene played out in her mind, each one more repulsive than the last, made more so with the notion that the tiny dragon that she loved—and she did love him, just not in that way—had kept these little things secret in his mind, to be dredged up in the middle of the night when he was lonely or bored. To her mind, he was no longer the pure, naïve Spike that kowtowed to Twilight and bent over backwards to gain her attention or approval; he was a dirty, impulsive gremlin, greedily grasping any potential fantasy or implication of desire that she might unthinkingly give him.

“Stop it, stop it, stop thinking about it,” she said to herself, smacking her hoof to her forehead with each word.

Eventually, her mind slowed down, but the thoughts had done their damage; she felt filthy, violated. She wanted to take a bath, and the knowledge that she couldn’t furthered her indignation. She paced the room, her brain a storm of half-formed thoughts and emotions. Everything she saw seemed only to incense her: the fabrics on the floor, reminders of her lost boutique. The incomplete designs on the sheet of paper on Twilight’s desk: symbols of her creative impotency—thrust upon her by Spike, and his ill-timed confession.

She went back to the window and glared at the dark countryside, stewing in her unhappiness; eventually, slowly, it slid away like a slime, and she felt empty. She sighed and looked back at her raw materials. Her mind was still simmering, but more from the fact that she had been so easily upset than the subject itself. “I suppose they’re just fantasies, after all. They can’t hurt me.”

She looked at her fabrics, and slowly, then quickly, an idea bloomed in her head; as it did, her expression changed from sad to indifferent to interested to awed.

“I-deeee-aaah!” she trilled, and immediately got to work, Spike’s incursion on her privacy forgotten.

Twilight started with the book on Equestrian history, curious to uncover more about what Princess Celestia said was Discord’s true nature. She had only to read a single chapter, entitled “The Defense of His Power”; in it, she felt she had found a completely different character. The Discord that she had met was witty and jovial in his trickery, and though his actions were annoying and disruptive, they were ultimately innocuous. Nopony got hurt.

In her book, however, the Discord presented was a dismissive and destructive creature, interested in chaos only insofar as it furthered his own goals. He subverted resistance and unrest with an unremitting tendency toward stagnation and isolationist political procedure, allowing the entire country to fall to the brink of disarray on multiple occasions simply as a means of persuasion. He enforced his own rule with deception and empty promises, of which the chaos seemed almost a by-product. There was no information on how he had originally come to power, but by the time Celestia and Luna were gaining influence, he had taken the form of a despot. Twilight was surprised by the scale of the politics in their conflict. She didn’t understand what had changed.

In the second book, she went directly to the chapter on the number twelve, skipping the principles and methods of divination, as well as the other numbers. She had an introductory knowledge of the subject, though she had never practiced it herself, and she skimmed the paragraphs with minimal interest. To her, the spa twins’ warning was an overreaction.

Fluttershy watched quietly, content simply to sit in Twilight’s presence as she read. She had little on her mind, not as much as she suspected the others did, but what she did was enough to make her unhappy. She felt sorry for Rarity, and for Spike, whom she had heard come down the stairs with heavy, unhappy footfalls. These more personal sorrows were mixed with the greater, general sympathy she felt for the rest of the town, and for her animal friends; she tried to avoid imagining what they must have experienced in those disastrous moments. To her mind, they were all, now, alone in the forest, afraid, maybe even hurt.

She hid under a wing. “Why am I thinking these bad things when I’m on the edge of the biggest adventure of my life?” she wondered, guilty for her self-pity. As was often the case for her, the answer came just a moment after: “Because I haven’t actually done anything yet. It’s all Twilight and Pinkie Pie; the most I’ve done is help fix the Cakes’ bathtub.”

She looked at Twilight and smiled; she didn’t look back. “I need to stop all this self-pity,” she thought firmly. “It’s not fair to anypony else, especially Twilight and Pinkie. They’re so brave, and here I am, feeling bad for myself, and for what?”

She pushed the thought out of her mind, having traveled the dangerous path it presented many times before. She tried to think up something else to fill the void the self-defeating thoughts had left, and remembered Aloe and Lotus. “Twilight is right; they did act strangely, but she’s making too much out of Lotus’ observational abilities. Like Rarity said, both of them are like that all the time. Oh, I can’t even imagine what that must be like. It must be exhausting.”

Thinking about the twins slowly led her train of thought back to Pinkie’s dream, and Snowdrift, and Lotus’ peculiar reaction. Before she could develop any thoughts on these things, Twilight spoke.

“Interesting,” she said, closing the book.

“Oh, Twilight, what did you find?”

“Not a lot more than what Lotus already said, really. At least, nothing that helps us.”

“Oh. Um, that’s too bad.”

“It’s still interesting, though. Divination is a specific subset of numerology, apparently; that’s why numbers are so important. There are fourteen in total.”

“What do they mean?”

“It depends on where you find them. In things like dreams or precognitive visions, they can suggest outcomes. Some are good, and some aren’t.”

“And twelve isn’t?”

“At its most basic form, twelve represents deception and self-interest. It actually reminded me a lot of Discord.”

Fluttershy brought a hoof to her mouth. “Oh, no. Does that mean we’re going to meet him?”

“Well, I’m sure we’ll meet him at some point before the end,” Twilight said, stretching and yawning. “But I don’t think that’s what twelve is telling us in Pinkie’s dream.”

“What, then?”

“I have no way to know. To figure that out, we’d need to do all kinds of tests and calculations. There’s a section on them in the back of the book, but it’s way too complicated. Oneiromancy is a difficult study on its own; with divination elements involved, it’s way beyond my skills.”

“Um, oneiromancy?”

“Dream interpretation.”

“Oh.”

Twilight smiled. “I know Lotus said we should watch out, but I don’t think it’s that huge a deal. It was probably coincidence.”

“Oh, I hope so,” Fluttershy said quietly.

“I’m sure of it.” She looked around. “Where did Rarity go?”

“She’s up in your room, but I don’t know what she’s doing.”

Twilight nodded, and stopped suddenly. “Wait. Did… you see Spike going by at all?”

“Oh, yes, he went upstairs, and came back down a couple minutes later. Why?”

Twilight frowned and stood up. “I thought I saw him go up, but I never saw him come down. If Rarity’s up there…” She bit her lip.

“Twilight? What’s wrong?”

“Hopefully nothing,” she said, walking into the kitchen. She quickly came out and went down to the basement, emerging a moment later with a concerned expression. She went up to her room, and Fluttershy listened for the brief exchange between unicorns before she came back down and poked her head outside the front door, calling out for Spike; no answer came. “Fluttershy, are you sure you didn’t see where he went?”

“Oh, sorry, Twilight, but no. He’s not in the library?”

“He doesn’t seem to be.”

“Oh, no.” She shrunk away, afraid. The first thought that went through her mind was that Discord had gotten him. “Do you think he’s okay?”

“I think he may have run away.”

Fluttershy felt the worry in her gut begin to uncoil a little. “Does he usually do that?”

“He only did it once,” Twilight said. “And he went far. I think he would have left Ponyville if I hadn’t caught him.”

“Oh no! But he’s just a baby. What do we do?”

Twilight sighed and thought for a second. “I don’t think we have much of a choice. We need to go find him before he gets lost or hurt. I’ll go get Rarity.” She turned back inside and trotted up the stairs, and Fluttershy waited in the darkening room, worried.

“How hard on him were you?” Twilight asked, leading Rarity down the stairs.

“Not hard at all, I thought,” Rarity said, stepping out and following Twilight to the front door.

“Well, he took it hard, whatever it was.”

“What happened?” Fluttershy asked, following.

Rarity looked to Twilight, who nodded.

“Spike came up to my room not too long ago,” Rarity said as they stepped onto the lawn. She lowered her voice. “And he decided to confess his love to me.”

Fluttershy gasped. She had known Spike’s secret for a long time, and despite his present absence and Twilight’s unhappiness, her first impulse was to congratulate Rarity. She held herself back.

“Of course, I had known his feelings for me for a while now, and suspected them even longer than that, but he didn’t know I knew, so I had to pretend to be surprised.”

Twilight, at the lead, turned them around the library to hook back toward the Everfree Forest. As they circled around the great tree, Fluttershy looked at their airship, still unused to its presence. In the dark, it was a lumpy silhouette, its balloon partially deflated like a fat raincloud.

“So he confessed himself to me, after a bit of nervous stuttering, of course.”

“What did you say?” Fluttershy asked.

“I told him that I loved him, but not in that way—as a friend. That I had never seen him as anything more than that.”

“Oh, the poor dear,” Fluttershy said sadly. She had expected it, but to hear the confirmation from Rarity’s lips struck her as poignantly as if she had been there herself. “Poor Spike. And look at how matter-of-fact Rarity is about it, too. No wonder he’s upset.”

“I could tell he was absolutely heartbroken,” Rarity continued. “I tried to make him feel better by emphasizing that I considered him a very good friend, but it didn’t work. He must have run just after leaving Twilight’s room.”

“I remember hearing him come down the stairs, but I didn’t look. That must have been just before he left,” Fluttershy said, guilt creeping into her voice. “If only I had noticed before it was too late. Fluttershy, you could have prevented this whole mess, if you’d have just been observant.” “I’m really sorry, Twilight.”

She sighed. “It’s okay, Fluttershy. You couldn’t have known to watch out for it.”

“You didn’t notice, Twilight?” Rarity asked.

“I was reading,” she said defensively.

“Then he didn’t announce his departure… the poor dear.” She looked around, and Fluttershy saw her face grow concerned. “Where exactly are we going, Twilight?”

“The Everfree Forest,” Twilight said confidently. “He’s probably trying to find somewhere to be alone, and there’s no place better than there.”

“Oh, I hope he’s not lost, or hurt,” Fluttershy said.

“He’s probably fine. He can’t have gone that far, and he is a dragon, after all.”

They trotted through the meadow toward the river where they had bathed, angling toward the bridge near where the river split, one half into the forest and the other half eastward. As they approached it, Fluttershy realized that they would be passing within sight of her ruined cottage, and turned her head slightly to avoid looking at it.

“Yo guys! What the heck?” a voice from above called; Rainbow swooped in and landed deftly on the bridge just before them. “You wanna maybe tell one of us before you just leave like that?”

“Sorry, Rainbow. Spike’s missing,” Twilight said.

“What? What happened?”

“He ran away,” Fluttershy said.

“In the middle of the night like this? Why?”

“It’s only eight o’ clock,” Rarity said. “And I’ll tell you about it later.”

Rainbow narrowed her eyes. “What did you do, Rarity?”

“I didn’t do anything. It is simply a matter of bad luck and… poor coping skills.” She said the last phrase a little bitterly.

Rainbow cocked her head, but let the matter drop, taking off again. “You’re checking the forest first?”

“Yes. I figure that he wants to be alone, and the forest is the best place for that,” Twilight said.

“How long has he been gone?”

“Ten minutes, maybe.”

“Yeah, you guys are doing this the slow way. I bet finding the little guy will be no sweat from the air.”

“Go for it,” Twilight said, and Rainbow took off toward the forest, shouting Spike’s name.

“Um, how far do you think he went?” Fluttershy asked.

“I don’t know, but probably not much farther.”

“I just hope he went this way in the first place,” Rarity said.

“It would make sense. Any other way would take him through the middle of town, and he wouldn’t want that. Plus, this is the only bridge nearby, so unless he wanted to circle all the way around the north or south part of town, he headed here.”

While Twilight spoke, Fluttershy looked down, studying the ground for any of his distinctive tracks; in the fresh grass, she could barely distinguish her own hoofprints behind her. As they drew near to the forest’s edge, the grass gave way to clearer, softer ground.

“Okay girls, let’s keep our eyes peeled,” Twilight said as they stepped under the trees’ shadows. Fluttershy shivered as she passed into the darkness, looking up and around for any sign of danger.

They walked quietly for several minutes, under dark boughs and stepping gingerly over creeping vines. Only Fluttershy looked at the ground, searching again for the distinctive three-toed tracks that Spike left. She paused, nearly making Rarity bump into her, looking at a small trail of unevenness that led through a small patch of weeds and flowers, underneath a tree.

“I think I see something,” she said, going in closer.

“I don’t see anything,” Rarity said, and Fluttershy pointed at the flowers.

“These have been bent,” she said, indicating the stems. The change was subtle, she knew, and she didn’t blame her friends for not noticing.

“Fluttershy, you’re amazing,” Twilight said, looking around for further sign of Spike. “Come on, let’s go.”

“Um, Twilight, I think I should stay behind,” Rarity said. “He might just run away again if he sees me with you.”

“Good thinking, Rarity.”

“I’ll just go back to the library and wait for you there.” She turned around, clearly eager to get out of the oppressive forest.

“Keep an eye out for Rainbow, Fluttershy,” Twilight said, and she nodded. They followed Spike’s trail deeper into the forest, and Twilight lit her horn, casting eerie shadows all around them.

Watching the play of shadow in the dark underbrush, Fluttershy was filled with dread, and she drew closer to Twilight, looking around nervously. She didn’t want to let is show, but the prospect of calling out for Rainbow—something that grew in necessity with each passing minute, in her view—caused stirrings of irrational fear in her gut, on top of the fear of the dark forest. “Surely there’s no harm in calling out in here; it’s just like calling in the daytime, but dark.” She wasn’t entirely convinced.

She pressed closer still to Twilight, until they were practically brushing flanks. She hoped Twilight couldn’t feel her trembling. “I’ll call after we find Spike,” she told herself, and was momentarily relieved.

In the silence, her calmed thoughts faded, and she could hear a quiet, pulsing noise before them. She froze, thinking first that it was the breath of some unseen monster, but before she could begin panicking, her sensitive ears identified it. “It’s Spike,” she whispered.

She trotted forward, taking the lead, and Twilight gave no objection. Trees passed on each side, but she didn’t look at them, knowing her overactive mind would only transform them into more fuel for her fear.

“Spike? It’s us, Fluttershy and Twilight,” Twilight called mildly, and Fluttershy was silently jealous of her friend’s courage.

The sound immediately halted, and Fluttershy took them to a tree, where the tracks ended. “Spike?” she asked, to no response.

They went to the other side, and Twilight sighed in relief when she saw him, sitting in the tree’s crotch with his little legs pulled up to his chest, head down. Fluttershy stood back as she approached. “Spike, I’m so glad we found you,” Twilight said, her voice free of admonition. “Why are you out here?”

For a moment, it looked like he wouldn’t answer, but then he drew a slow, unsteady breath. “I-I don’t w-want to t-t-talk about it.”

Fluttershy moved over and laid a gentle hoof on his back. “There there, Spike. You don’t have to talk about it now, but let’s get you home. The forest is no place for a baby dragon, especially the forest at night.”

“B-but… she’s there,” he said quietly, voice vibrating slightly.

“Who? Rarity?” Twilight asked; Spike winced at her name, and Fluttershy looked at her with a quirked eyebrow. When he didn’t respond, she continued. “Oh,” she said simply, feigning just figuring the situation out. “You didn’t… tell her anything, did you?”

He nodded dumbly.

“Oh, Spike.”

Fluttershy noticed a hint of impatience in her voice, and frowned when Twilight hugged him. The deception was making her uncomfortable.

“Come on, Spike. Fluttershy’s right; this isn’t the place for you. For any of us. Let’s get back to the library.”

He resisted at first, and Fluttershy heard Twilight withhold a sigh.

“Rarity won’t cause you any more problems,” she said. “If you want, I can tell her to stay away from you tonight.”

He nodded again, and climbed up on Twilight’s presented back. After a moment for him to gather himself, they followed his trail back toward Ponyville. They passed through thickets and over roots, under drooping branches and between bushes. Fluttershy could hear the insects around them, feel leaves brushing her and twigs catching in her tail.

Before she could muster the courage to cry out for Rainbow, Twilight began yelling. As she did it, Fluttershy’s own fear slipped away, bolstered by Twilight’s courage. She joined her voice to Twilight’s, though it was so quiet that she doubted Rainbow would hear it. Spike joined in a little after, and the three marched through the forest, calling Rainbow’s name every few seconds, Twilight occasionally throwing in a “we found Spike.”

The light was steadily paling, and soon, Fluttershy spotted the first shaft of brilliant moonlight cutting through the canopy; she had missed it when she entered, but now her eyes were keener.

Twilight extinguished her horn, and they walked the rest of the way out and into the field by only the starlight, powerful against the unlit Ponyville skyline. As she did so, her heart dropped; they had not seen or heard any sign of Rainbow.

Rainbow didn’t see any sign of Spike during her fly through the forest, and so, before heading back the way she had come, she burst from the treetops to do a quick survey of the field outside, in case Twilight and Fluttershy made it back without telling her. In the distance, they were standing and looking around, and she could hear Twilight calling her name. She shot over to them, happy to get away from the forest. She would never admit it, but flying alone through the treetops, in the dark, was enough to unnerve her. She landed beside them with a chipper greeting, which Spike, arms clasped around Twilight’s neck, returned glumly.

“I’m glad you showed up. We were calling for you; did you hear us at all?” Twilight asked.

“Not once,” Rainbow said. “But I figured I’d come up and look around every twenty minutes or so, just in case you found Spike first.”

“Well, it’s a good thing you did,” Twilight said, walking back toward the bridge.

At first, they were quiet, save for Rainbow’s wings shuffling through the night air, but then Spike asked a question none of them were expecting. “Have you girls ever been in love?”

They all started, Twilight almost knocking him off with her sudden change of pace.

“Could you repeat that?” Rainbow asked.

“Have you ever been in love? Any of you?”

Rainbow almost dismissed the question as too personal, but Spike’s tone made her reconsider.

“Well,” Twilight began, hoof to her chin in thought. “It might be hard to believe, but no.”

“It’s not that hard,” Rainbow said, eager to keep the question from shifting to her. “You probably spent all your time studying.”

“Yes, actually. That’s why I never had time for love.” She said it without a hint of regret, and Rainbow chuckled internally. “Egghead.”

“What about you, Rainbow?” Spike asked, and she thought for a moment, again weighing the option to simply tell him to back off, or crack a joke; she had plenty of sarcastic responses, but few serious ones.

“…Yyyyyyyyyyyyeah, a few times,” she said slowly. “He better not get too personal.”

“What was it like? What happened?”

“Dang it. Okay, be cool, Dash. He’s just a kid.” “What was it like? Well, you know, it’s love. You feel kind of… jittery inside, I guess, but kind of excited and afraid too.” She smiled. “Like doing your first sonic rainboom. As for what happened, well… nothing, really.”

“Why? Did they not love you back?”

“Careful, Spike,” she thought, a little angry. She took a moment to suppress her agitated thoughts. “Kind of. It’s more that I just never really had the courage to tell anypony.”

“Do you still love them?”

“No,” Rainbow said instantly. “It’s been years since I’ve seen any of them.” She looked down at him, watching her with curious, moist eyes. “And no, I don’t miss them. Some of them weren’t even friends.”

“I see,” Spike said, and Rainbow looked away. She was prepared to tell him to stand down, and stop questioning her personal life, but he didn’t press the issue. “What about you, Fluttershy?”

Fluttershy paused, and they were over the bridge. “Oh, um, well, yes, I have been in love once.”

“Only once? When?”

“When I just a filly. I had already earned my cutie mark by then, but I didn’t have any friends besides Rainbow Dash, and she was always busy practicing her flying.”

Rainbow glanced at Fluttershy quickly, and returned her eyes back to their path to the library. She could see it in the distance.

“Did anything ever happen?” he asked, and she shook her head.

“No, nothing ever did. I was afraid to say anything because I didn’t want to be laughed at, or looked down upon.”

Twilight cleared her throat. “Why are you asking us about this, Spike? Is it about… you know?”

He sighed and looked down into her back. “Yeah. Sorry if I’m getting too personal with you all, but it’s just… I could really use some advice. You see, I’m kind of… in love with someone.”

Rainbow looked back at him, and their eyes met, his sad expression to her bored one. A burst of empathy spread through her, and she spoke a little gentler. “If you want something to come of that love, you need to confess it. Trust me, Spike; it’s worth it.”

“That’s the problem. I already did, but she doesn’t love me back. At least not in that way.”

“Maybe you just need to be persistent. Maybe she needs a reminder of your affections or something. What do you think, Twilight?”

Twilight spoke very deliberately. “I think Spike should respect her privacy and her wishes, if she’s not comfortable with the prospect of being together with him.”

“What? Have him give up, just like that? What kind of advice is that?”

“If she said she’s not interested, then he shouldn’t continue pursuing her; he’s only going to keep getting hurt if he does that.”

“But he’s already hurt! Look at him.” She gave Spike a smile. “Trying again can only be good. Spike, I say you should track her down and give it another shot! What’s the worst that can happen?”

“You’re not taking her feelings into account, Rainbow. What if she has another man?”

“Spike, does she have another man?”

“Um, no, not really,” he said quietly.

“See? She’s totally available, Twilight. Spike needs to get out there and get her.”

“What he needs is to understand her reasons for turning him down, and give her time. If he really wants to try again later, fine, but for now, it would be useless.”

They were at the library’s doorstep, and Twilight pushed it open.

“Don’t you care that he’s looking for love?” Rainbow pressed.

“He’s looking for it in the wrong place,” Twilight said, and looked at her to stop speaking; Pinkie was back, and everyone was gathered in the front room in a moderate, respectful conversation.

“Hey, Twi,” Applejack said sympathetically. “Rarity told us everythin’. Howdy, Spike.”

“Hey Applejack, Pinkie.” He sounded a little better, but wary.

“Why were you two arguing?” Pinkie asked.

“It’s nothing, Pinkie,” Twilight said.

“But it’s not nothing! Arguing is never nothing! Which means it’s something!” Her voice grew a little grave. “Why don’t you want to tell me?”

“Uh, it’s private. I’ll tell you later, okay?”

“It’s about Spike,” Rainbow said, and Twilight shot her a dirty look. “Oh, crap. I wasn’t supposed to say anything.”

“Oh, Spike, what’s going on?” Pinkie asked, instantly putting all her attention on him.

He climbed off Twilight’s back and made for the stairs. “Um, I’m gonna go ahead and go to bed now. I’ll see you tomorrow, I guess.”

He ran upstairs before Pinkie could stop him, and Twilight put a hoof to her shoulders to keep her from pursuing him up to the room.

Pinkie looked around innocently. “What? What’s wrong with him?”

“Pinkie, he just had a… difficult moment with Rarity.”

“What? Why? Rarity’s not difficult; she’s a pony!”

“No, no, that’s not what I mean. I mean that he… told her his feelings.”

“Oooooooooooooooooooh,” she said in one half-minute long syllable.

“Wait a minute,” Applejack said. “Spike told Rarity what?”

“He told her that he loves her,” Rainbow said, to another glare from Twilight.

Rarity walked down in from the kitchen, and, seeing them all, stopped. “Oh,” she said, immediately on edge. “We’re still talking about that, are we?”

“Rainbow, how could you tell Applejack that? Spike didn’t want his secret out!” Twilight cried.

“Now wait a minute,” Rarity said. “Twilight, you told Rainbow?”

“She didn’t tell me. I just figured it out,” Rainbow said, voice rising. “And you never made me promise anything.”

“Wait, Spike has feelin’s fer Rarity? Since when?” Applejack asked.

“I’m sorry, Applejack, but you’re not allowed to know that,” Pinkie said.

“Pinkie, come on, Applejack already knows the basics; we all do. Spike practically told everypony anyway,” Rainbow said.

“Not Applejack!”

“And not you either,” Twilight said.

“Hey, since when do Ah not get to hear what’s goin’ on?” Applejack asked.

“Applejack, he would have told you if Pinkie hadn’t scared him away,” Rainbow said.

“You’re the one who said the whole thing out loud,” Twilight said, voice wavering between temperance and frustration.

“Well soooor-ry.” Rainbow waved her wings dramatically.

“All right, all right, everypony settle,” Applejack said, hooves held up. “So Spike loves Rarity; that’s not too bad. Ah mean, it’s a little… weird, but Ah’m sure it can’t hurt.”

Rarity had stepped back to let the argument take its course naturally, and Pinkie glowered at Rainbow, who ignored her.

“Rarity?” Applejack asked, looking at her. “Wanna clarify this fer us?”

She sighed. “I suppose, since it’s already out in the open, I may as well.” She went to the couch, sat down, cleared her throat, and began speaking. “Yes, it’s true, Spike does love me. He confessed this to me just tonight, not an hour ago.”

“Awwwwww, that’s so cute!” Pinkie cried, her earlier disturbance already forgotten. “Are you two marefriend and, um, dragonfriend now? Oh! We should have a relationship party!”

“No, Pinkie, we’re not together.”

“Oh, why not?”

Rarity scowled, and Rainbow leaned forward. “I told him that I loved him, but just not like that. As friends, in the same way that I love you all.”

“An’ what did he say?” Applejack asked.

“Not a whole lot. He said something about not really expecting me to respond as he had wanted, and then he just left. I assumed he was going to stay in the library, and maybe talk to Twilight about it.” She nodded at the purple unicorn to carry on the story.

“But he didn’t stay here; he left, walked right through this room actually. I didn’t notice him because I was reading.”

“Typical,” Rainbow said, and Twilight rolled her eyes.

“So then what?” Applejack asked.

“Well, Fluttershy, Rarity and I went searching for him; I figured he would head for the Everfree, and, to make a long story short, I was right. We found him, and ran into Rainbow along the way, and then headed back here. You saw the rest.”

“So that's where you went,” Applejack said, looking at Rainbow.

“What about the arguing?” Pinkie asked.

“Spike started it,” Rainbow said.

“That’s not true, Rainbow,” Twilight said indignantly. “He didn’t start anything; he just asked a question. Maybe it was a bit personal, but can you blame him? This is the first time he’s ever been through something like this.”

Rainbow thought for a moment, and she remembered her earlier compassion for him. “Yeah, you’re right. Whatever. He asked us if we’d ever been in love. Totally out of the blue.”

“And I get the feeling that none of us really wanted to tell him that much,” Twilight said, “so it was a pretty awkward conversation, until he asked for advice. Apparently, Rainbow didn’t know he was talking about Rarity, and told him to keep trying. I told him to back off and give her some space.”

“Uh, yeah, sorry about that,” Rainbow said. “If I’d known earlier, I wouldn’t have argued with you like that.”

“It’s fine, Rainbow. But anyway, that’s what we were arguing about.”

“Well, we’re all better now, right?” Pinkie asked, and they both nodded.

“Ah still can’t believe it,” Applejack said. “How long have you known this, Twilight?”

“Um, a little while now,” Twilight said sheepishly.

Applejack nodded and gave a warm smile. “Ah’m not mad at’cha, Twi; if Spike doesn’t want us all to know his secrets, that’s his choice.”

“I hope he didn’t hear any of this from upstairs,” Fluttershy said, and they all quieted, suddenly afraid of just that.

Rainbow broke the silence with a yawn, and Rarity added her own just after.

“Ah agree,” Applejack said.

“Let’s get to bed. We’re helping rebuild that house tomorrow, remember,” Twilight said.

“Oh, right. Pinkie told me ‘bout that. Doctor Whooves?”

“That’s what they said.”

“Ah like him; he used to come down to the farm every now an’ again to say hi.”

They stood around awkwardly, and Rainbow went back to her bookshelf. “So, um, good night everypony,” she said, giving a little wave and closing her eyes.

The others dispersed, and, after a quick argument over the bed, Twilight stayed in the front room with Rarity, Fluttershy, and Rainbow. She found a spot on the floor underneath the window, where she would often fall asleep reading, and laid down there.

They slept, and the night was peaceful.