Rejuvenation

Disclaimer: I do not own My Little Pony, nor am I profiting off this literary venture.

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Waking up was... Difficult.

He didn't know why.

His eyelids felt heavy, his limbs were sluggish and even his jaw resisted cracking open for a hefty yawn!

But he struggled through it anyway.

It took some doing, but he managed to crack his eyes open.

He didn't recognize the room he was in.

It was dark grey, dim and dull. There was one chair in the corner and nothing else.

And a pony.

A younger stallion, dressed in a lab coat. He was green with a black mane, and Spike could see a needle trailing thread on his flank.

"H-hello?" His voice cracked, his mouth felt so dry.

"Ah?" The unicorn looked up from where he was scribbling. "Oh? Oh my!"

He set the clipboard on the edge of the bed Spike lay in and stepped up to him. His horn lit up and he seriously invaded Spikes personal space, shining the blinding ray straight into his eyes.

"Good, actually very good. Optical responses are within normal range." A small green ball floated into existence in front of Spike, moving to the left and right. "Very good, yes... Optical reflexes also normal."

The clipboard floated off Spike's bed and a quill started scratching at it.

"So Spike, how are you feeling?" Wasn't he supposed to ask the questions before he started doing tests?

"Uh? Tired. I'm really tired." He felt like he was ready to go back to sleep already, but he didn't want to.

He couldn't!

He didn't know if he was still dreaming, but he really hoped he wasn't.

He... He was home, wasn't he?

"Where am I?" He would've recognized the room if he'd been here before, he was sure of it.

"Oh, yes, yes. You were not awake when you were brought in, were you? Well, you wouldn't be able to answer in the positive, no, sorry. Right... The Canterlot Academy of Applied Magical Medicine, that's where we are at the moment." The unicorn was mumbling, but Spike could just barely make out what he was saying.

He'd had a lot of practice.

"In Equestria?"

"Of course? Where else would we be?" The doctor sounded puzzled.

Spike supposed that made sense. The human world wasn't exactly common knowledge.

"Nevermind. I think I think I'm still dreaming, does that make sense?" Spike closed his eyes and leaned back, the pillows felt so soft.

"In a way, yes. Can you tell me the last thing you recall?" The doctor had the notepad at the ready, quill poised to write.

"I... Think so? It kind of feels like I heard someone say something to me while I was underwater, I don't, it's hard to focus." Spike looked at the doctor, scratching away at the paper. "I think there was a dragon and he was... Proud of me?"

He had the impression that the memory was of something huge and golden, but he couldn't recall an actual shape, or put a voice to the words.

"Hmm... I see. Well, actually I don't. It may have been a dream, perhaps a fever induced hallucination? We've only just gotten that under control by the way, your fever." The scratching was picking up pace. "Now, Spike, you know who you are, yes? What you are?"

"Yeah... I'm a dragon. Why?" The doctor was making Spike uncomfortable, but he wasn't sure why.

"Well, strangest dragon I've never seen. We've been working almost non-stop since Miss Dash brought you in." The clipboard was set down again, the doctor looking directly into Spike's eyes. "After Princess Twilight and the... Other Twilight explained the situation many of us were quite excited to get you under the horn, as it were. Transformation magic mishaps are quite rare and poorly understand, you understand?"

"I... Can't say I do. Why?"

"Because they are temporary. Magical permanence is achieved through static enchantments on inanimate objects. The report that your form was forcibly altered, or perhaps that you are possessing an animated... Thing. It's somewhat difficult to discern considering the breadth and variety of magic you've been afflicted with."

"Been afflicted with? What's afflicting me?" That really didn't sound good.

"There's dark magic residue, but that's fading away quite well. Whatever it was, it looks like it was in direct contact with your for a matter of years. Most unicorns like yourself tend to get a little... Weird when that happens. Laughing inappropriately, trying to subjugate others, a fondness for pranks and bullying are the most common behavioral traits exhibited afterwards. Usually followed by ambition driving research which leads to spiking intelligence before some strange mishap occurs that leaves the afflicted individual as some kind of near-mindless malignant nit-wit." Well, that described Sombra pretty well.

"I didn't think dark magic was common enough to do that kind of research on?" Spike tried to leave that as a statement, but he couldn't keep his curiosity completely quiet.

"It's what I did my thesis paper on." Well, that was worrying.

"Carrying on, we've also found that almost all of the remaining magic left to you has differentiated itself into a form most often used by phoenixes and dragons. Commonly referred to as 'Fire magic' by the uninitiated. It's what's causing your fever, your... Form isn't appropriately able to utilize the magic you do have. Should you try, there are very good odds of a magical backlash. You like your horn, don't you?"

The question threw Spike a bit.

"Uh, yes?"

"Then I'd very strongly suggest you not try to cast anything. Now that you're awake, we can actually discuss treatment options. This is all new territory, you understand that, yes?" Spike hesitantly nodded at the question. "Good, yes. Well, what we would like to do is perform an active analysis on your magic and how it's interacting with your artificial biology. Miss Sparkle, the one with the larger wings, suggested that perhaps the absorption was incomplete and that remnants of your dragon nature remain. If so, we intend to try and either revert your form back into that of a dragon or else find some way to express them strongly enough that you can utilize the magic within you in a safe manner without inflicting grievous harm on yourself. Do you understand everything so far?"

Spike thought on the question.

He thought on it for several slow minutes as the doctor began impatiently tapping the clipboard with the now-dry quill.

"Sorry. Not at all."