Author's note: First off I'd just like to say that this is one of the first stories I'm going to be writing entirely on my own. I'm very used to having a beta reader to go over my work with me. Honesty it just makes my work better. So if anyone out there is willing to work with me I'd be very interested in talking with you. Until then, however, please bear with me. I like to think that my plot line and word choice outweighs my grammar and spelling errors. (Expect edits to this chapter/story if I can find a beta.)

As Spike walked into the hospital room of his oldest and dearest friend he had to stop in midstride to stifle a gasp. No matter how many times he saw her like this he couldn't believe the condition she was in.

Countless wires and attachments stuck out of her at all angles. There were so many machines used in helping her to just stay alive now. Normally there would be tubes filling her mouth, helping sustain her life, but she had decided to have them removed. This would only serve to hasten her demise, but Twilight had decided her mission was more important, and she would have to be able to more easily communicate.

However ugly a sight the various tubes sticking haphazardly out of his friend may have been, it was nothing compared to the sickly complexion she'd taken on in recent weeks. Twilight's once beautiful coat, a purple the color of the earliest dawn for which she'd been named, was now in patches covering only a small portion of her body. Replacing the fur was skin a sickly shade of pale pink.

As Spike regained his composure he wondered why Twilight had been so insistent he find the old quill and parchment they'd used to write Princess Celestia with tales of their adventures with their friends.

Thinking on it, it had been no small miracle he'd been able to find the things at all. Dirty, dusty, and forgotten in their old and abandoned home from their time in Ponyville. Relics from a time long passed.

"Spike…?" Twilight called out weakly, opening her eyes a crack. Just enough to search the room for her longtime assistant.

"I'm here Twi." Spike reassured, keeping his voice equally soft; stepping up to his friend's hospital bed, taking her hoof in his claw, and looking her in the eye to make sure she'd see him. When she finally did she managed a weak smile which spoke volumes on their friendship, how much it meant to her for him to be here, especially with the items she begged him to gather to help her with her unspoken mission.

"Spike…take a letter." Twilight commanded, her voice staying at the same barely audible whisper. It was a request that was familiar, but one that had been forgotten by time.

"Twi?" Spike asked. They hadn't written to the princess in years. Since they'd left Ponyville the Princess, disappointed though she may have been, had given Twilight the respectable position as teacher in the Royal Academy for the Magically Gifted in Canterlot. Forgotten were their days of writing on the values of friendship

Judging by the condition of the unicorn of late, it was possible she may have just been delusional. Perhaps forgetting when or where she was.

"Please Spike… it's important." She begged, eyes pleading, asking Spike to help her.

Sighing, he pulled a chair over to the hospital bed. He had to leave more room than he would have had to in previous years. Dragons lived long lives, and aged slowly, but Spike had become taller and a bit more chiseled since the last time he'd written for Twilight. Wetting the quill in a fresh pool of ink, he set the parchment on the mattress, making sure not to touch Twilight. He couldn't bear it if he accidentally hurt her.

"Ready Twi." Spike conceded, fighting the sadness in his voice. He held the quill to the parchment and waited patiently for her to begin.

The female pony nodded, and began weakly, closing her eyes, no longer having the strength to keep them open.

"Dearest Princess Celestia…" Twilight began; her weak voice seemed to carry a weight to it as well. A determination to complete her task, a quality that had defined her life. A diligence to her mission that had made up who she was in health.

"I know it has been many years since I've last written an official report, since before I took on my class at least. However as I lie here…in this bed…I feel I have one final lesson to teach.

I fear the inevitable may be fast approaching…I suppose it's not such a bad time to go. I don't have very many regrets. I may not have lived as long a life as I may have under different circumstances, but as a middle aged mare it could have been worse.

There are, however, a few things that haunt me. One in particular haunts me each and every day. As I reflect on the memory it feels like only yesterday…

Please review. Tell me what you think, anything you'd like to see added the story, anything constructive.

(If you're interested in the Beta Reading position PM me. I'd really like some help, like I said I do a lot better when I have an extra hand.)