Twilight Sparkle walked into the throne room of the Friendship Rainbow Castle, her hooves clicking on the crystalline floor. But it felt like she was floating, skating across the room with a smile on her face.

What a night it had been, for her and for Flash! Dinner at a fancy restaurant at his expense, a moonlit walk through the park, and dancing among the fireflies where he'd played his guitar just for her. She hummed the tune he'd played for her as she pictured him sitting before her, the light from the stars reflecting in those sapphire eyes, a lilting little melody that he'd composed himself.

And he'd even been enough of a gentlecolt to walk her to the door. He'd been tempted to give her a good night kiss, she could tell--and there was a part of her that wished that he had--but if there was one thing that all the books she'd read about dating had agreed on, it was that the first kiss should not be rushed. It was only the third date after all. And so they'd simply smiled, bid each other good night with the promise of seeing each other again tomorrow, and departed each other's company for the night, she returning into the castle and he flying off to the little cottage next to the castle that he lived in.

Twilight took a breath, and suddenly let out all the joy that she'd been holding back since earlier. She allowed herself to fall into the thralls of ecstasy: her heart rate accelerated, she felt flushed, endorphins flooded her whole body, and she proceeded to prance about, giggling and squealing like a school filly.

All the symptoms of being in love.

"Twilight?"

Twilight forced herself back to seriousness at the sound of the voice and reminded herself that she was expected to behave like a princess. Even in the presence of her number-one assistant.

"H-how was the date?" Spike asked, hovering at the foot of the stairs that led up to their personal quarters, staring down at his claws.

"It was lovely," Twilight said. "We did everything by the book and Flash was a perfect gentlecolt and--"

"Good! Good, I'm glad, that, that you're happy and it went well," Spike interrupted, now looking down at his feet.

Twilight frowned. She knew this behavior: she'd seen it before when she'd first taken in Owliscious. "Spike, is something wrong?"

"No! No, nothing's...nothing's wrong!" Spike blurted out, too quickly. He fidgeting, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, then cleared his throat. "Well, it's late, so...good night." He turned and made to head up the stairs.

Twilight took flight, gliding over Spike's head and landing on the stairs in front of him. "Spike, I know that something's wrong," she said in a firm but gentle voice, a voice that she had grown accustomed to. "You can tell me; you know that you can tell me anything."

Besides, we both know what happened the last time something was bothering you and you didn't tell me, she thought.

Spike lowered his head, took in a deep breath, and it all came tumbling out in a rapid stream of worry. "You've been dating Flash and spending a lot of time with him and he seems like a good guy and I want to be happy for you, but..." He took a shaky breath and continued. "But I'm afraid that as you get closer to him, you'll get further away from me. What if...what if one day you and Flash...what will happen to me?" Spike's body trembled and his little hands balled into fists, frightened tears trickling from his eyes as he faced the prospect that his worst nightmare, his darkest fear, would come to life.

"What if...you don't need me anymore?"

Twilight looked down at the quietly sobbing, scared baby dragon before her and felt her heart break, rendered into pieces by the sword of guilt. How dare she? How dare she not think of Spike? How could she have been so blind, to not think about how this might affect him?

She extended a foreleg and hugged Spike to her. He clung to her like a lifeline, his tears staining her coat.

"Spike, listen to me," she said soothingly, nuzzling his head. "I know you're scared of being abandoned. But you don't have to be. Didn't I promise you when we saved the Crystal Empire from Sombra?" She pulled back a little and tilted his chin up with her hoof so that he looked up at her smiling face.

"I will never, ever push you away. I will never not want you or not have a place for you. Yes, I love Flash. But I love you, too." She wiped away the tears with a hoof. "I will always love you. You're not just my number one assistant; you're my number one friend." She smiled at him. "Besides, what would I do without you? The day I try to go without you is the day Equestria falls!"

A smile broke across Spike's face and he hugged her again, this time in relief. As she embraced him again, Twilight pondered the nature of their relationship. They were best friends, that much was certain; it had been ascertained long before she came to Ponyville. But she also, over the years, had played the roles of his teacher, disciplinarian, counselor and caregiver. What did that mean? Were they siblings? But she was the one who brought him in the world in the first place. Did that make her his mother? Then why was there something inherently frightening about calling him her son?

"I love you, Twilight," Spike whispered into her chest.

A tear fell from Twilight's eye as she felt her heart repair itself, and she decided that the bond between them didn't need a name. He was her little one, and she was her big one, and that was enough for them both, secure in their indestructible bond.

"It's late," she finally said. "We should--"

But Spike could not hear her: he'd fallen asleep in her embrace. With a wistful smile, she gathered the baby dragon up in a magical field, carried him up the stairs and tucked him into his basket at the foot of her bed.

"Good night, Spike," she whispered. "I love you."

Right before she turned out the light, she saw a peaceful smile spread across the face of her little dragon.

Author's Notes:

In which Spike confronts Twilight about her dating Flash Sentry.

Heavily inspired by the work of The Descendant of Keh An, who I hope will forgive me for stealing one of his lines.