The book, one with a cover and many pages with a bunch of ink squiggles, fell from the bookshelf. It fell on the ground onto its spine and opened. An ethereal wind arose, rapidly turning the pages. Pages flew out, spiraling out of the book like a parchment whirlwind. A magenta whisp, a spirit orb, floated inside the protective barrier of wind and knowledge. Brilliant wings rippled from the orb and spread and, with one majestic flap, dispelled the paper as the spirit stretched out of her floating form. The spirit looked to the heavens for a brief moment, before returning her gaze to her new charge.

“Full house, my win,” Spike said as he leaned forward to collect his stack of bits, completely oblivious to the majestic scene that had taken place.

“...” The spirit scratched her head as her eyes scanned each of his companions, before resting on the only other ghost in the room. The spirit crossed her forelegs and shouted, “Sombra!”

Sombra jolted in his seat, nearly sending his mediocre stack of bits flying. The female spirit facehoofed and made a mental note to nag remind him to practice his poltergeist powers properly as a single bit passed through her incorporeal form.

“Oh hey, I wasn’t expecting you!” Sombra chuckled as his hooves fidgeted, ghostly sweat clinging to his ghostly fur. “Aren’t you due in, like, three hours?”

“It’s been three hours, dumbass!” the spirit screeched as she tapped her wristwatch, which had struck midnight two minutes ago. Spike was still too busy counting his bits to notice. “What have you been doing?”

“Uh, nothing?” Sombra sweat became a cascading waterfall off his shoulders as Spike leaned over and plucked a forgotten bit to add to his pile. “I mean, uh… I lost track of time.”

“What do you mean—Ugh, nevermind. Can we, like, just start over?” The spirit shook her head and turned to Spike, who finally gave her the time of day. “And you… can you please play along? We got a schedule to keep. And your friends… I don’t care what they do. Just… please.”

“Ugh, fine.” Spike waved a claw as he used the other to rake in the dough and gather it into his basket. The other three living beings shrugged and went with it.

“Okay, I’ll just go out the door…” Sombra stood up and floated toward the front door, slipping through it like a ghost. His head poked back and nodded toward the other spirit, who nodded back and dived back into her books.

Sombra returned back outside and took a deep breath. Okay, you got this. You still got this. There’s still this, of which you’ve got. This is got by you. Yeah. This. It’s got.

Sombra used his ghostly magic powers from the world beyond to open the door as he floated through, waving his forelegs above his head as he wailed, “OoOoOoh IiIi’mMm aA gGhOsT!”

Spike, still sitting at the table, blinked and scratched his side. Sombra quickly glanced down and realized he was naked. He zipped out the door, quickly put on his rusty and edgy chains, and then returned inside.

“SpIiIkE!” Sombra wailed as he rattled his chains. “I hAvE cOmE fRoM—”

“Can you please stop talking like that?” Spike tapped a claw against his teeth, picking at a few jewel fragments. “If you drop the ridiculous accent, I’ll pretend to be scared.”

“...Deal.”

The library entrance opened once more as Sombra rattled his chains and wailed. “Spiiiiiike, I have come from beyond the grave to warn thee!”

“Oh no, King Sombra,” Spike deadpanned as he tossed his claws up. “I thought you were dead.”

“Indeed, for I have a message for thee. At the stroke of midnight, you shall be visited by three ghosts.”

“Three ghosts?” Spike covered his mouth and pretended to dramatically gasp in shock.

“Yes, three ghosts,” Sombra said as he floated closer, only to nearly trip on his own chain. “Ghosts, of which the number is three. Three is the number, and the number is three. No more, no less.”

“What about two ghosts?” Spike said as he sat up.

“There only shall be two ghosts… if followed by three. Never five, and—”

“Four?”

“Is too much. Four is a number thou shalt not count, and five—.”

“Is right out. I get it. Okay, so what about you?” Spike leaned forward and tapped his chin, sufficiently engaged in linguistics. Sombra took a step floated back. “Aren’t you a ghost?”

“N-no, I don’t count!”

“But you said three ghosts, and you’re a ghost…”

“WILL YOU TWO QUIT IT?” the female spirit roared as she burst out of her book with a thunderclap. She huffed and puffed as she caught her breath, glaring at Spike and Sombra. “Look, he’s a ghost and he’s warning you about being a complete jerk and where it’s going to lead you.”

“Wait, I’m a jerk?” Spike scratched his butt as he stood up from his seat. “Since when?”

The spirit facepalmed. “Ugh… why do I have to do Sombra’s job? Look, today Twilight forgot you as she was heading toward the Everfree Forest to hang out with her friends and the princesses, right? Just in time for a blizzard to hit, preventing you from seeing anyone. Get it?”

“Yeah, but I don’t quite understand how I’m the jerk here. Also, why do you look just like Twilight?”

The spirit froze, sweat dripping down her forehead. “Uh… I’ve taken the image of a loved one prevalent in your past! A form you are comfortable with, so to speak. So, uh, shall we get on our way?”

“I don’t even know who you are!” Spike crossed his arms and rolled his eyes.

The spirit sighed and wiped her forehead. “I am the Ghost of Chri—”

“Pssst,” Discord whispered into the spirit’s ear, standing on her shoulder in his miniature form. “Let’s be inclusiiiiiive.”

“Uh… I am the Ghost of Holiday—”

“BORING!” Apple Bloom whined, her head resting on the table as Angel proceeded to show the spirit a particular gesture taught from his caretaker.

The spirit sighed, deciding to use her ethereal powers to cheat by peeking past the fourth wall just a tad. She spread her forelegs and stared up to the heavens. “I am the Ghost of Chew-Toy’s Past!”

A bolt of lightning struck in the background, illuminating the room in dramatic electrical light.

“Eh, fitting.” Spike brushed himself off as he walked toward the ghost who looked like his number one ignorant princess. “Alright, let’s get this show on the road. But...”

He looked over his shoulder as Apple Bloom trotted toward him, carrying Angel on her back. He stuck his thumb out, pointing at them as he turned his gaze back to Not-Twilight. “Uh, what are we going to do about them?”

“I got it!” Discord squeaked in his tiny form as he snapped his fingers. A bright white light blinded Spike and the two ghosts, only to fade away as quickly as it came. When Spike’s vision returned, he saw—

“Okay, this is really awkward,” Spike said as he tugged on his new brown coat. His bottom was covered in a cute little pair of shorts Rarity would have fawned over. “Please don’t tell me…”

“This is revenge!” Discord cheered from the coat. “Take it in, bunny rabbit! Feel the butthurt!”

Spike couldn’t help but chuckle, even as he felt the fluffy shorts ride up on his tail. He then turned to Apple Bloom, returned to the poker table by magic, and opened his mouth to speak.

“I’ll pass.” Apple Bloom waved from the table, shuffling the cards. “Applejack says Ah shouldn’t get in personal business like this.” Spike nodded.

“Alright, alright, can we get a move on?” Not-Twilight barked before Apple Bloom can get her share of snark in. “This chapter is already half over!”

“Excuse me?”

“Wait, sorry about that.” The spirit averted her eyes and gulped. Whoops, forgot to turn that off. This is so weird! She cleared her throat and returned her gaze to Spike. “Together, we shall explore the past that had led to these events that trouble thee!”

“Whoa! You have power over time?” Spike gasped, holding a claw to his mouth. “That’s… kind of common. Twilight can do that.”

Not-Twilight felt steam rising from her head as she reached into the recesses of her angelic wings and pulled out a blue remote control. “Whatever, Mister Fluffy Snarky-Pants. Where should we start…?”

“Why are you asking—”

“Here we go!” Not-Twilight prodded the remote. Spike nearly stumbled as time itself reversed; the clock spun backward faster than his eyes could keep track. Faint images of him and Twilight zoomed through the library, going about their business.

Time flew by at a blur, except that one time when Spike took a bubblebath when the remote glitched and forced him to watch himself bath in slow-motion while singing Highway to Heaven.

“HAiL HyDrA!” past-Spike’s voice said backwards, as if there was a demonic message implanted that could only be heard backwards. Before the time traveling Spike could comment on the absurdity of the scene, time resumed rewinding until ethereal winds blew and assaulted him, somehow managing to steal his wallet.

“So… this might take awhile,” the spirit that held an uncanny resemblance to Twilight Sparkle chuckled. “Since Sombra was kind of a dimwit, I might as well tell you. You’re on a bad path, Spike, stemming from your new desire to no longer be trod upon and neglected.”

“What do you mean?” Spike said, staring at Not-Twilight from the corner of his eye.

“...You’re on a bad path, because you don’t want to be trod upon and neglected?”

Spike facepalmed. “That’s not what I meant…”

“Spike…” The spirit hovered lower at his side, extended a wing, and held him in a loose embrace. “It’s just… you have no idea what kind of path, this mentality, is going to take you. It’s not a matter of knowing, otherwise the real Twilight could have just—”

“Nagged me?” Spike snapped, pulling away from the angelic wing. “You mean like she always does, day in and day out? ‘Oh Spike, please be a good number one assistant and do a crapload of chores so you can be a good boy while I goof off with my friends to write about the magic of friendship.’ You mean like that? Huh? Huh?”

‘It’s worse than I thought…” The spirit gulped. “You’re already bitter, Spike. That’s… that’s not good. Maybe… maybe we should start with this one…” She tapped on the remote, slowing time once more.

Spike blinked as the scene came into focus, no longer finding himself inside the library. Rather, it was—

“Canterlot?” Spike said as he trudged through the two-inch snow. “I don’t remember it snowing here.”

“You’re right, you don’t,” the spirit said as she trotted alongside him, assuming a pseudo-physical form. Her coat was the twilight sky, and her mane the stars. “This was many moons ago, when you were barely a year old. In fact…”

Spike flinched as he felt something gaseous pass through him. He blinked as two small beings ran through him and dived into the snow. Two little bodies crawled through the cold powder, giggling and tackling each other.

Spike tilted his head as he caught the familiar colors of their hides. “Is that… Twilight? And me?”

“Yes, Spike. Today was your first snow day.” The Ghost of the Past chuckled. “Young Twilight miscast a spell in class, and, well… Princess Celestia turned the other way so the young ones could enjoy the rare weather. But that’s not what we came for. Watch!”

Spike crossed his arms and leaned against the spirit, watching as the two children bonded. His memory of the time was long ago faded, but the moment still brought a smile to his lips. The young dragon and foal tossed and wrestled, throwing snow at each other.

So innocent… So fun… So… oh crap. Spike’s arms fell to his side as his jaw went slack, watching as mini-Spike froze before his eyes into a draconic popsicle.

“Dear Celestia, how am I still alive?” Spike whispered to himself. His clothing murmured their agreement.

The spirit smirked. “Just watch.”

The filly, Twilight, pranced up to the frozen form of her surrogate brother, wondering why he had stopped playing. She turned her head and examined his icy new set of scales, before lowering her head and resting her horn on the ice.

Wait, is she going to…? Spike clutched his chest as a warm sensation began to bloom inside, as if his heart was about to grow a whole three sizes.

Twilight brought her head up for one long lick against the ice.

Spike facepalmed.

The two continued watching as the filly tried pulling away from the baby Spike, her tongue frozen to the ice. Eventually, noises of adults could be heard. Spike turned his head, recognizing Twilight’s parents, as they galloped toward their young charges.

The couple fretted over the children, squabbling over their course of action. A simple heat spell would have worked if Twilight had licked a pole like every other child, but it would put Spike—as a baby, he lacked any elemental resistance—at risk. The present-day Spike chuckled, feeling a strange satisfaction as the miniature Twilight squealed and tripped over herself in her struggle.

“So… did you bring me here for a laugh, or to actually prove a point?” Spike leaned over to the spirit, talking through the side of his mouth. “Because, honestly, I’m about to laugh my ass off.”

“Wait for it…” the spirit growled, just as something finally started to happen.

“Wait for wha—”

“Shh…” The spirit shoved her hoof into Spike’s mouth and pointed with her horn at the baby dragon. “Wait for it…”

The ice on baby Spike’s body began to drip as it turn emerald. Future Spike peered forward, not believing his eyes as the entire case of ice shattered.

The baby dragon plopped onto his behind as smoke trailed out of his nostrils. Baby Spike burped and watched his surrogate family stare at him, exchanging concerned glances. His blank expression and dopey eyes twitched and twitched and twitched until… he laughed. He laughed and laughed, as if Twilight had told him a joke.

Twilight and her parents attempted to stifle it, but their baby dragon’s laughter brought giggles all around.

“Oh great. Ponies have been laughing at me since childhood,” Spike muttered. “Great.”

“Aw, how sweet,” the spirit fawned as the baby Spike laughed with his surrogate family. The spirit turned her head to Spike and beamed. “You see?”

“I don’t get it.”

The spirit sighed as she wrapped a wing over Spike. Spike, surprisingly, leaned close and took in her warmth. “You see… that was the first time you truly laughed. Not the shallow giggles of play when you copied Twilight’s every movement, but a true laugh. You didn’t quite understand why, but you did. You genuinely laughed, even at your expense.”

“I see…” Spike said as he stepped out of hoof’s reach from the spirit. “Now, I wonder what this does…”

“What does wha—Oh, no!” The spirit’s blood turned to ice—or at least it would have, if she had any—as Spike fondled with the remote. Before she could dive and tackle him, he pressed a button.

“Spike!” a teenage Twilight screamed from the top of the ladder while scouring her bookshelves. “A little help here?”

Crickets sounded as the teenage mare gulped. Her forelegs, unused to climbing for long periods of time, wobbled. The ladder followed suit, eventually leaning the other way.

“Whoa whoa whoa!” Twilight screamed as the ladder started to tip. Gravity, being the harsh mistress, pulled her into an embrace as the rest of the bookshelf followed suit.

The time traveling Spike cracked up as Twilight’s head poked out of the pile of books. He wiped a tear from his eyes as he held up the remote and pressed a button.

“Whoa whoa whoa!” Twilight screamed again after time rewinded itself. Spike watched her fall, pop out of the book pile, and pressed the remote again.

“Whoa whoa whoa!” And again…

“Whoa whoa whoa!” And again…

And again…

“Stop it!” the spirit cried as she finally got her bearings on the situation. She tried to tackle Spike, only for him to lean onto her underside and heave, throwing her across the room. Before she could recover, Spike pressed another button, fast-forwarding time.

“I’m sorry to hear that, darling. He’ll never know what he’s missing out on,” a familiar and fashionable voice said. Not-Twilight shook her head and recognized her surroundings: she was in the library once more, but with three ponies lying on the bed. Spike sat on the edge, invisible to the three mares.

“Maybe we should…” Fluttershy quickly turned her head to and fro, cocking her ears to ensure they were truly alone before bringing her eyes to Twilight. Twilight’s borrowed makeup from Rarity was running with every sniff and sob of the depressed mare. “Maybe we should play it again?”

“Y-you don’t mean…?” Twilight’s head rose, her eyes regaining their former sparkle.

Rarity’s eyes met hers as they screamed, “THE KISSING GAME!”

“Aaaaand that’s enough, Mister!” the spirit screeched as she leaped at Spike, attempting to snatch the remote before he could get an eyeful of hot and steamy goodness.

Unfortunate, he was prepared. With perfect timing, he took a step back and didn’t even glance up as she went sailing past. “Huh, I wonder where we should go next…”

“Oh come on!” Not-Twilight groaned as she got back onto her shaky hooves. “We’re supposed to be exploring the path that has led to your fall from grace and possibly your redemption!”

“Oh, right, the whole ‘chew-toy’ business,” Spike muttered as he pressed a button. “Why don’t we visit my precious relationship with Rarity?”

The scene shifted to a dirt field littered with holes. A younger Spike and Rarity were the only beings in the vicinity. Their vibrant colors contrasted with the grayscale field as Rarity led the way with her magic alit, only pausing to occasionally allow the young dragon to dig for gems and load it onto the wagon.

Not-Twilight trotted over to Spike, waiting for a chance to strike. “Uh, I don’t quite get the point. You’re just looking for gems here.”

“Oh really?” Spike, with flourish that would make Luna proud, pressed the fast forward button.

Past-Spike and Rarity became a blur, dashing through the field and throwing dirts and gems. The two invisible viewers watched as the occasional diamond dog poked his head out of the ground, only to pop back in with a chipmunk scream of terror.

Not-Twilight cocked her head. “Huh. How long are we going—”

Thirty minutes later…

“Does this thing go any faster?” Spike said as he checked his wristwatch. “Not sure the ‘x5’ setting is cutting it.”

Not-Twilight lifted her head from the ground from her nap with a groggy groan. “Y-you say something?” She shook her head, wiped the sleep from her eyes, and stood up. She scanned the scene and sighed, noticing essentially nothing had changed. “You guys are still at it?”

“Well, I think we’re done here!” Spike patted Not-Twilight’s back as he pressed another button on the remote. “To the Gala! To the Gala!

With yet another scene shift, the two found themselves in a particular donut shop. Young Spike sat at a counter, conversing with Donut Joe.

“Oh, my bad!” Spike chuckled as he fiddled with the remote, yet again changing the scene. “I meant your birthday party!”

Young Spike sat in his basket, lazily flipping through the pages of a comic book.

“Wait, did I say birthday party? I meant your first birthday party!”

Filly Twilight blew out the candles as her family cheered and applauded. Shining Armor, possibly a preteen, ruffled her mane with a proud smile.

“Oh, wait, I meant my first real birthday party!”

Not-Twilight moved her head to and fro as her heart started beating, recognizing Ponyville.

“Oh hey, Ponyville!” Spike rested a hand on his hip as he turned on one foot, taking in the scenery. “Oh, the memories! Speaking of which, how about my welcome party from Pinkie Pie?”

He clicked a button on the remote, only for them to remain in the current time. He tried again before facepalming with a hearty laugh. “Oh wait, I forgot! That was for Twilight! Hey, maybe we should go back to the time where I got to meet Maud!”

Click!

Not-Twilight’s ears drooped as she turned her head and whistled, waiting for the scene shift that would never come. She lifted her hoof to rub her mane, only to feel a light poke.

“Here,” Spike said as he placed the remote back into Not-Twilight’s hoof, using his other claw to close her hoof over it. “I think I’ve made my point enough.”

She nodded and clicked the remote’s emergency stop button, popping them straight back to the future present.

“Speaking of points, what’s your point exactly?” Spike said as he tugged on the jacket.

Not-Twilight sighed, checking her watch and realizing her time was almost up. She lowered her head and grumbled, “The point is, Spike, that you used to be a sweet kid that could laugh at his mistakes. Now, you’re bitter and unwilling to forgive others for wronging you. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go. We’ve wasted enough time.”

Spike shook his head and looked up, intending to probe Not-Twilight with more questions, but she was gone.

“Wow, what a bloody git,” Spike’s shirt grumbled. Spike concurred.

He didn’t hear the sob outdoors.