Spike trudged along the gravel path, the town's lights against his back. A short exhale of breath turned into a small cloud of vapor as he exhaled.

He frowned.

A month or so ago, doing so would've caused a veritable cloud of steam in the chilling autumn air, but no more. The steam was just as likely to appear as the big red-haired asshole that was responsible for his current mess.

Great, he grumbled, tunneling his fists into his leather jacket, now I'm thinking about raging hemorrhoids.

More annoyed than when he left that evening, he continued his trek toward the quarries.

"Spike?" Twilight called out, stepping with caution on her way up the stairs. She hadn't heard from him since he had gotten back that afternoon, and that had been several hours ago. It wasn't like him to keep quiet for so long.

For all you know, he's a completely different person these days, the niggling little voice in her head said, and for once, she briefly entertained it before banishing it to the back of her mind.

Besides, she couldn't exactly blame him. Despite Applejack's best intentions, her objections fell flat when considering her reaction to some of Spike's more...personal activities. While Twilight herself tried not to think about it in depth—Spike was his own person, and her own hands weren't exactly clean—it was difficult to ignore how invested Applejack had been in her former charge.

She's jealous, she thought, arriving at the door, hand poised to knock. However, as soon the thought arrived, she questioned it. Applejack wasn't the type to show jealousy, and even though her sister was involved, that seemed more salt in the wound than a contributing factor to her friend's mood.

Twilight knew the two of them would need to talk soon, especially considering their "rendezvous" a matter of weeks ago. The Twilight in her that bordered on neurotic demanded that she'd best get her own house in order—so to speak—but she stubbornly decided that some things had to take precedence.

She made to rap on the door, but to her surprise, it swung free, seemingly of its own volition. "Spike-" she started to say. but the words died in her mouth, her mind warping to a heap of burning coals.

"What are you doing here," she demanded, suddenly torn between quavering and fuming.

"Nice place you got here," Garble mumbled, chewing noisily on a rectangular sapphire. He swallowed, leaning to the wall with arms crossed and eyes narrowed to slits. "Where's the shortstack?"

The cast iron door held an ominous presence, tempered only by an assortment of colorful jewels adorning the borders, and despite his preoccupation with his mission, Spike likened the quarry's doorway to the ambiance of prayers in a graveyard.

He shook himself, raising a fist and knocking hard on the iron gate. The Princess hadn't sent him here for sentiments.

The door let out an uncharacteristic peal, after which there was a stale silence. Still, even as the ringing sensations left his ears, he could hear the heavy clumping of boots approaching.

A yanking of bolts, and schink! the slit in the door opened, yellow canine eyes cutting at him. "Who are you?" it demanded in a low, gruff voice.

"Spike, fresh out of Canterlot," he answered, hand slipping to his coat pocket and producing a flawless diamond. "Heard you boys were running a game tonight."

"So there's a fire in the south," Garble garbled, his mouth full of sapphire shards. "A volcano erupted." He paced to and fro in the upstairs loft of Twilight's home, where the latter was an unwilling audience. "Only it wasn't a volcano."

He stopped in front of her, serving up one hell of a penetrating glare.

"I don't see what this has to do with me," she said defiantly.

Twilight Sparkle had faced down plenty of demonic creatures in her day, from hydras to three-headed guardians of Tartarus. She wasn't going to be intimidated by some second-rate thug, penetrating stare and fire-breath be damned.

His girlfriend, on the other hand, was a different story.

"She's got spunk," the white-haired harpy crooned, running her hair through a nervous Twilight's bangs. "We should let her run with us."

Before Twilight could begin her very heavy rant of opinion sharing, Garble waved his girlfriend off, snorting. "Stop changing the subject. And besides, a nerd like that would ruin our image."

"Excuse you," Twilight protested, squirming away from Gilda, which was difficult considering that the other girl had her legs wrapped around her waist.

Garble simply ignored her, continuing to pace. "So me and G go to check it out, since, you know, danger and shit. We get there, fucking fire everywhere, mountain's crumbling to pieces, trees and small animals are scorched to shit." He turned, glancing at Gilda, saying, "And because someone was fucking careless, her engagement ring drops in the center of the fucking mountain."

"Oh, again with the freaking ring!" she barked, momentarily forgetting to toy with her prisoner. "I said I was sorry already!" She jerked her hand at him in irritation. "And in case you haven't noticed, these things aren't exactly hard to come by. You can find freaking sapphires on the way to take a piss in the woods!"

"Can we skip your relationship problems and get to the reason why you broke into my house?"

"Getting to it. Geez, get your dick out of the zipper." Garble paid no mind to her indignant squawk, instead saying, "So I behave like the responsible fiance and go get the ring at the bottom of the dark, dreary chasm. But I'm not alone."

At this, Twilight slowed her fidgeting, ignoring Gilda's trailing fingernails on her collarbone. "So? What was down there?"

Garble's frown was that of a flat, unwavering line. "A demon," he answered, uncaring of Twilight's skeptical expression. "But not just any demon, oh no. I get down there, it's a flaming, shrieking little shit that's twice my size and half as mean. I get down there, and I see a Balrog."

"Rover!" Spike cried out with fake enthusiasm, arms extended. "How's it going, buddy? Jeez, what's it been, seven, eight years?"

"Who the hell are you?" The gray-skinned miner grumbled, narrow green eyes filled with suspicion. He and the rest of the Diamond Dogs, as well of a few of their ever-present guards, were clustered around a small, dirty poker table. Their clothes were baggy and colored with dust; the young drake had to resist the urge to wrinkle his nose or gag.

"It's me, you big lug! Spike!" he exclaimed, marching up to the table and clapping the uncomfortable older man on the shoulder. He grinned, all hints of resentment well-hidden. "I'm Rarity's friend." Here the rest of the Diamond Dogs went still, eyes widening in shock and exasperation, "You remember? The little kid you made a clown of before that ugly little incident happened?"

Rover laughed nervously, "Is that so?" His eyes darted meaningfully to the guards, whose hands went for their spears, leaning against the rickety old table. "How is Miss Rarity doing these days? We never talk."

Spike waved his question off, the now-unnerving grin still present. "Ah, that's neither here nor there." He hoisted his diamond into plain view, catching the light just so. The gleaming treasure momentarily captured the attention of the entire table. "You boys got room for one more?"

Rover twitched, eyes moving across the table. The shortest of his group, Spot, was seated directly beside Spike, out of his view. The smaller man shook his head vehemently, crossing both hands over his neck rapidly in a sign of protest.

The Diamond Dog blinked almost innocently, a sign of silent agreement, before his eyes returned to Spike. "Sorry, friend. Full table."

Spike frowned, the diamond dropping to the table. Finally, the men around the table seemed to think, sighing with their shoulders. He may have been young, but a dragon-man smiling was never a pleasant sight.

"That's a shame," Spike said, rubbing his jaw with one hand.

"Maybe next week, friend?" Spot spoke up from behind Spike. The other Diamond Dogs nodded in complete agreement.

Next week, in another quarry, they all silently agreed.

Spike made as if he didn't even hear the suggestion. "How about we make a trade instead?"

The Dogs stalled, wondering what he would ask for. Finally, Rover found his voice. "What exactly are you looking for, friend of Rarity?" he asked, his suspicion beginning to override his caution. Diamonds were valuable, sure, but there were some gems not even a Diamond Dog would trade for-

"A little birdy told me you had a fire ruby." Spike answered jovially, sitting on the edge of the table, tossing the diamond carelessly from hand to hand.

"As you well know," Princess Luna dictated from memory, "all gems have varying magical capabilities. Given the commonality of most precious stones, however, the majority of them share the same characteristics."

The Princess had recovered from her emotional bout, which Spike had done well not to touch upon. He humored his mentor by listening to her monologue, though it was nothing they hadn't already covered in his lessons.

"Spike," she commanded, drawing him to full attention, "what is Sturgeon's Law?"

"'Nothing is always absolutely so,'" he recited near-robotically, to the pleasure of his Princess.

"Correct," Luna said, pacing in the confines of Spike's mind, pale skin flashing from under her nightwear with every step. "Though the adage itself is usually used in reference to literature, it holds reason in this particular case as well." She turned, arms uncrossing to summon images of precious stones. "Almost predictably so, one can be assured that the most potent magical objects are the ones that are the most rare. The remainder of the low potency materials are unimpressive in comparison, both in terms of arcane functionality as well as financial value. However, the latter is not what we are concerned with." She nodded to him, signalling for him to take over in their review.

"Amethyst, kunzite, and baby blue sapphire are the ideal stones used for harmonic magic," he said, filing away Luna's smile and reminding himself to be pleased with himself later, "while spinel, garnet, and rubies are ideal for elemental spells."

"And tourmaline?" she pressed.

His mind raced for half a second, before he answered, "Tourmaline is a useful all-purpose, semi-precious gem, that can be adapted as a support, but should be used sparingly because of its weak magical composition."

"Very good, Spike," she said, face nearly absent of the resentment and guilt that had been present all but a few minutes ago. "Now, which are more valuable, diamonds or rubies?"

Spike frowned; her questions weren't very indicative of where the conversation was going. "Rubies. They're rarer, better suited to combat spells. and less common than diamonds."

"Correct again," she said, resuming her pacing. "While diamonds are unquestionably the more sought-after, at least by the public, their uses are similar to that of tourmaline." One teal eye met emerald as she rounded on him. "It is an all-purpose stone, very useful for an Arch Mage to have as a magical conductor." She smiled inwardly as an inkling of her implications seemed to dawn on his face, and she allowed the corners of her cheeks to curl slightly.

"However," she said, and here he was sober again, "given that your own magical prowess isn't your greatest asset, it would be an ill match." She could see his confusion mounting, so she amended her statement. "An ordinary spellcaster would benefit from an all-purpose jewel, Twilight or myself especially, given our versatility with magic. However, a concentration in a certain school does not lend itself to versatility." Her eyebrows furrowed. "What would be best suited for a Firedrake?"

Spike's eyes widened at the implications, his mouth slightly ajar. "A ruby," he breathed.

"A fire ruby," she corrected, and she stopped her pacing. "And I know just where you can find one."

Twilight's eyes shrunk to pinpricks, her stomach churning into a hold, hard pit. "You're lying," she breathed, squirming away from the white-haired vixen behind her. "You wouldn't be here if that was true, you have to be lying," she repeated. "No one's that-"

"Powerful?" he finished. The dead-certainty on his face killed any sense of doubt that Twilight held.

Garble crossed his arms. "Don't get me wrong, now. I've heard the stories, I know how strong those fuckers can get." He raised a finger in clarification. "But this wasn't some god-killing abomination. Not yet, anyway." He sat down, relaxing into an armchair opposite of Twilight. "It was smaller than they're made out to be. Red-hot and feral, but not much bigger than this room," he said, drumming his fingers on the near-cracked leather armrest.

Twilight rolled her eyes, though privately relieved. "Oh, that's just great, then. The psychopathic arsonist also happens to be a murderer."

Garble's lips twitched, his crooked smile showcasing a single gleaming fang. "Don't get all self-righteous with me, Stripes. That thing was still a monster, and bigger than a bus." He leaned out of his seat, rubbing two absurdly sharp nails together, forming sparks. Twilight jumped as one leapt to the floor, near her feet. "The way I see it, I was doing your little boyfriend a favor. Saved him from cleaning up his own mess."

Twilight went stiff. "He's not my boyfriend. I raised Spike, that's all."

Gilda snorted. "I sure hope not. He was all over Dash last time I saw him." She pinched Twilight on the side of her jaw. "Guess that means he just wasn't raised right."

The purple-haired sorceress bristled, unaware of Garble's dawning realization. "You raised him?" he asked, quietly. At Twilight's acidic look, he returned it with gusto. "You have his scent in you."

A jolt went through her system, and she shifted her eyes, avoiding meeting his. "We live together, genius. it's only natural you'd pick up on that."

But the crimson-haired criminal only leaned further in his seat, nails driven through wood like knives through dirt. "His scent is mingled with yours, that fucking fuck." Garble's eyes were venomous now, and Twilight shrunk back from his gaze. The heat escaping from his flickering maw was almost searing. "No wonder that little cum burper thinks he's hot shit, he's got people like you fucking with his head."

"Now wait just a minute—" Twilight started, anger rising.

"You humans are a lot of fucking things," he spat, "but you sure as hell aren't picky."

Gilda stopped playing with Twilight's hair, frowning. "That's not fair, G."

"The truth usually isn't," he snarled, now standing. His figure was framed by the shallow moonlight, casting a menacing shadow on his face. Only his orange eyes, narrowed to slits, were visible. "I can't believe it; I'm actually feeling sorry for the little prick. His dad fuck him too?"

"Fuck you!" Twilight roared, to the surprise of the other two. She leaped from the bed, breaking Gilda's grasp. She shoved a crackling purple finger into her assailant's face, matched only in intensity by the glaring heat stretching forth from her blazing white eyes. "I have been very patient with you, a couple of second-rate criminals who broke into my house, insulted my friend, and had the gall to talk down to me in MY town!"

Garble flinched, shifting into reverse from the now apparently-murderous magician, who was painting the formerly dark library loft pale purple with her aura. Gilda gaped from the other side of the room, now shaking from the intensity of the magic. The air hummed with it, smelling heavily of ozone and metal. Small objects around them started to roll towards her, building into a pile at her feet.

"Holy shit, dude," Gilda said, shrinking back on the bed. "I think you broke her." Garble only swallowed.

"You have no idea what either of us have been through, or who we are!" she bellowed, her face turning hateful.

And for a moment, Garble managed to swallow his fear, and roar over the growing noise, "You're scum, both of you!"

At the narrowing of her eyes, and the nearing silence, he could tell that was the last straw.

He grabbed Gilda by the wrist, and jumped through the window, just before it exploded.

"Now, I know what you're thinking," Spike said, smiling in spite of the tense faces that surrounded him. "'Dragon wants a pretty little bauble,'' right?"

The silence was glaring, but telling.

"Wrong," Spike answered for them. "Long story short, it's needed to help bring a very bad man to justice. So really," he swept his arm to all of them, "it's in your best interest to cooperate."

"Well, ah, you see, friend," Rover started, shaking as he spoke, "even if we did have a fire ruby in our possession, a dragon such as yourself would understand its immense value." He swallowed. "As it stands, it is not up for trade."

Spike's smile slowly warped into a grimace. "That's a shame."

Rover seemed to regain some of his confidence, his grimy hands absently shuffling cards around. "Indeed, friend, a shame! But, ah, it appears even dragons have to go without what they want sometimes, yes?" The rest of the Diamond Dogs chuckled nervously in agreement. Spot wiped his brow, and Fido, the largest of the group, silently sheathed a wicked looking hunting knife, careful to hide it under the shadows of the poker table.

"Oh," Spike said, still grimacing, "I'm getting what I want. I just don't like playing the bad man."

The table went quiet again, save for the nigh-undetectable rasp of metal. "Surely you're joking!" Spot barked, before the others could restrain him. "Surely you wouldn't result to such petty thievery! Your friend Miss Rarity would hardly approve of—"

"Except," Spike interrupted, picking his teeth with a strange piece of metal, "Rarity doesn't know I'm here." He beamed. "It's Guy's Night, after all."

Fido started, realizing that his knife had suddenly lost most of its weight. "How-"

Rover's eyes widened to dinner plates, watching open-mouthed as Spike visibly slipped the blade into his mouth. A strange series of clacks filled the small room. "Strike one, fellas," Spike mumbled, before swallowing audibly.

Spot was shaking at this point, his rotten wooden chair shaking beneath him. "What are you going to do if we refuse?"

"Well, that's anyone's guess." Spike said, going back to rolling his diamond around. "But personally, I don't like your chances."

One of the guards scoffed, saying, "He's just a runt. A fast one, I'll give him that, but—"

"Do you know what temperature diamond melts at?" Spike interrupted, his palms pressed together.

The guard ceased his outburst, staring at Spike malevolently from under the brim of his helmet.

"Technically," the young man continued, "it's somewhere upward of 6000 degrees Fahreinheit." Spike's face showed fascination, though the slight twitch of the corner of his mouth didn't seem to agree. He continued; "Fun fact, boys: that's around four times hotter than the hottest lava ever recorded, but you get the point."

"Why are you saying this," the guard grumbled. It was a demand, rather than a question.

"Because," Spike said, slowly, as he brought his hand apart, "in all of my studies, I've found that dragons can withstand extreme heat. But I couldn't find anything that suggested the same about Diamond Dogs."

He parted his hands, revealing a pile of fine pebbles where a large diamond had once been.

"I-if you harm us," Rover yelped, throwing his arms in front of his face, "you will undoubtedly be imprisoned for a very long time!"

Spike broke into a raucous fit of laughter, shoulders heaving from Rover's accusation. His face glowed red with heat and humor.

Composing himself momentarily, Spike replied, jauntily, "Believe me, I've got more time than I know what to do with." He tilted his hand to the side, letting the crushed diamonds fall to the table. "Strike two. I'd choose my next words carefully, if I were you."

His turned to Rover, and the shivering vagabond nearly broke into a seizure. Gone was any trace of humanity in his eyes: the young man's pupils had narrowed to slits, like those of a pale specter, or a python.

The ragged Diamond Dog had had enough. Surreptitiously moving his hand to the edge of the table, he swept the scattered diamonds into the young dragon's face, blinding him. Rover leapt from the table, grabbing a set of keys as he ran. Shouting over Spike's roars, he commanded the guards, "Kill him! Kill! Him!" He flung a column of chairs behind him to cover his tracks, even as the burly guards accosted Spike, forming a circle of muscle. "I'll be damned before any friend of that whore steals any of my bounty!"

As he reached the door to the next room, Rover flinched as he heard a mighty bellow, followed by a flying body colliding with the stone wall next to him. One of the guards slumped to the wall, unconscious, and the tall, lanky Diamond Dog made up his mind. He ran through to the next room, not bothering to lock the door behind him as he slammed it shut, even as the rest of the guards struggled to bring the raging drake to the cold floor.

"Strike three!" Spike yelled, grabbing another guard by the crook of his burly arm, but more were pouring on him by the second.

"Run all you want, Rover, I'll find you!"

"As you know, the position of Firedrake is equal in status to that of the Arch Mage, though their roles vary." Princess Luna was seated a few feet from Spike, but even her presence and the importance of what she was saying was barely enough to keep him awake. "Though the Arch Mage has various political duties, and is responsible for both researching magic as well as arranging for the laws of arcane research and the like, their role has never been that of combat."

Spike mumbled something in the affirmative, but Luna paid him no mind.

"There have only been two other Firedrakes before you, the first achieving the position before my time. Their scarcity is largely in part due to our tenuous relationships with the dragons, who for the most part avoid other societies. Their purpose, however, has always been as a harbinger of imminent conflict. Merely one's presence was often enough to keep peace where blood would have been shed." She smacked him upside the head. "Pay attention."

"Sorry," he yawned.

"Through the use of gems as magical amplifier, many mages, human and dragon-men alike, were able to fend for themselves when the world was younger. Wyverns, Hydras, Minotaurs," she listed, "all these were held at bay by single magicians, where ten might work to accomplish the same. This was especially true for your predecessors; the ruby's effects as a magical tool not only augmented their fire's strength, but their abilities to work magic through it as well."

"But let me guess," Spike drawled, rubbing an eye, "the strain on their bodies were so great that they eventually died afterward."

The Princess was silent, long enough that Spike looked to her, worried. "That's what happened, right?" he prodded.

"No," she finally answered, not meeting his eyes. "The opposite happened. The magic in their bodies was so great, their lives were extended exponentially."

Spike's eyes widened, as he, now fully awake—so to speak—considered the implications. "How long did they live?"

Luna sighed, a great, weary breath as if she was under a heavy burden. "Some lived to be over two-hundred years old, others longer." She met Spike's horrified gaze. "As for the Firedrakes," she sighed again. "The second died of natural causes while I was banished, but the first is still alive."

Spike made to speak, but she covered his lips with a single pale digit. "Enough. I have given you enough to consider for one night; my offer will still stand in the morning, and I can only hope you will recognize its consequences." The Princess's face was solemn and unknowable. "I will make sure you endure no night terrors as of before, but the terrors that come by day are not mine to dismiss."

Spike trudged toward the cornered Diamond Dog, breathing heavily and drenched in sweat, but otherwise none the worse for wear.

He reached out, grabbed the terrified older man by the hem of his shirt, and dragged him into the storeroom where the horde of gems was kept, now minus one fire ruby.

"I hope that was worth the shit that's coming your way," he growled.

Spike slammed the door on the man, leaving him to be be rescued by his unconscious comrades.

He turned, and started making his way to the entrance of the cavern.

He had hoped to be back before Twilight had noticed his absence, but it was a vain wish. A pale dawn was already breaking.