Spike glided into town like a shadow. All the doors were locked and barred for the night, though warm yellow light filled each widow. He could just make out families going about their nightly rituals, putting their fillies to bed, and getting ready to retire themselves. In the space of a few moments, many of those points of light winked out, and he walked on alone.
He walked by Sugarcube Corner first. The second story was vacant now, empty. There were no bursts of laughter, no sudden explosions of confetti, no trays of cupcakes and cake with pink icing to make your mouth water. There should have been. The place wasn't right without them.
Spike's steps took him past the Carousel Boutique, and he felt a glimmer of the old pain. In the daylight, he might have found a store filled with racks upon racks of the latest fashions, all designed by her. But the lady herself was here no longer. The logo on the door was the closest thing to her. The pair of elliptical eyes of brightest sapphire blue stared out at him with a purple main circling around the in almost in a question mark. He stared into those eyes for five minutes. Paint over etched wood was a poor substitute for the real thing.
He wandered for an hour down the streets of the place used to call home. How could a place that had been home for so long feel so far away now? He wondered. He came at last to the spot where the Golden Oak Library had once stood. The tree itself was long gone, and roots dug up and hung from the hall in the crystal palace. Only a small patch of ground remained, grown over with grass, and left blank as a living monument.
A sudden yearning filled him. Just then he would have done anything to go back. He closed his eyes and found the memories vivid and bright. The earthy, wooden smell of the interior, mixed with the musty scent of old books. The creak of the wood as he climbed the stairs. His bed at the foot of Twilight's larger one. The nights spent at the top, looking at the stars through the telescope. The stable door with a lighted candle painted on it. Spike was adrift in the river of memory, lost in happier times. Oh, how he wished he could open his eyes and smell Twilight cooking breakfast for the two of them with the early sun seeping through the window, cuddled in soft blankets.
He opened his eyes.
The empty field was unchanged. He was grown, cold, and on his own now.
There was no going back.
He looked towards the crystal palace. Once it had seemed to loom large over the town, but now it seemed smaller, almost unnoticeable in the distance. The circle was there no longer, and the very thought hurt.
He walked for an hour around Ponyville's dark streets before he left its outskirts. He continued until the sweet scent of apples came to him. He leaned against the base of the tree, and dreamed of brighter days.
Something wet made a track across his face. He stirred. The thing caressed his cheek again, then again, until his eyes opened. A brown and white dog sat there enthusiastically licking his face and wagging her tail.
"Wynona?" he said, sitting up. "Is that you, girl?"
The dog sat on her haunches, tail ablur behind her. She barked with joy.
That's when Spike felt vibrations go through the ground and up the tree trunk like a miniature earthquake. He stood and looked towards the farmhouse and barn down the hill, then sniffed the air. A wide smile crept upon his face.
He made his way down the hill.
"EEEEE—AAAAHHHHH!" he heard, followed by another tremor in the ground. The apples of a distant tree shook out of its branches and fell to the ground. He moved in that direction with Wynona running circles around his legs, almost but not quite underfoot.
And there, at the foot of the hill, stood Apple Jack. She still wore her mane in a long blonde braid, still had the hat on top of her head. She was more muscular than Spike remembered. She had already been one of the most powerful Earth Ponies in the kingdom before Spike left.
"EEEEE—AAAAHHHH," she thundered again, and another tree's apples fell into baskets on the ground.
Wynona barked and panted and Apple Jack looked up. Her emerald green eyes went wide.
"Well I'll be a fried apple fritter," she exclaimed. "Spike, is that you?"
"It is," Spike said and threw his arms around her neck. She was slick with sweat.
"Why, you've gone and grown up us on."
"Trying not to," Spike said. "But time marches on."
"It certainly does," AJ agreed. "Well go on up to the farmhouse and get yourself a mug of cider. I'll be up in a bit and we can catch up."
"I'd love that."
Spike went down to the dirt road and followed it towards the farmhouse as Applejack continued to work the slopes behind him. The house, the barn, even Mac's carrot shack were almost entirely the way he remembered, though here and there he saw the bright paint fading in spots. He could smell just a trace of rot among the timbers, though they remained strong on the whole. The screen door seemed impossibly smaller now than the one that lived in his memory, but the kitchen on the other side was just as it should be: an old-fashioned country stove and ice box, the checkered tablecloth, the pitcher of lemonade with two slices floating inside, it was all there. And there, on the counter sat a small keg, already tapped and ready. Spike took a tall wooden mug down from the cupboard – it was easy to reach now – and filled it with frothy, apple-y goodness. He took a long pull.
Perfect, he thought. Worth waiting in line for.
As he drank, he gazed out the window above the kitchen sink at the rolling green slopes of Sweet Apple Acres that stretched out before him. The soil here was always rich and fragrant, the wind always carried the scent of apples and cut crass. This was a living, breathing place, and Spike hadn't realized how much he missed it until he looked out that window. Breathtaking – the view looked the way the cider tasted, earthy and wonderful.
Just then the screen door opened and AppleJack came in, dabbing the sides of her face with a rumpled handkerchief. "Whoo-wee, bucking is thirsty work. Pour me one, too."
He gladly did so, filling the mug to almost overflowing before handing it over as they took their place at the breakfast table.
"It does a pony good to see you, Spike," she said with long draught. "Been so long I almost forgot what you looked like!"
She was kidding, of course, but Spike couldn't help but smile.
"I've missed you, too, AJ," he replied. "But where are Mac and Granny Smith?"
She took another drink. "Mac's out on deliveries, and probably won't be back for a few days. He'll be plum put out that he missed you. That is, my guess is that you're not staying in Ponyville for very long."
"I'm just passing through," Spike said.
"Well, as for Granny Smith," she said, setting her mug down. "Honestly, she doesn't get out of bed much these days. But don't let that fool you, she's still as cantankerous and fiery as ever, but her joints ache, so she directs things from there." He saw her look down for just a second. "When she's awake, that is.
"You ever hear from Apple Bloom these days?"
"Oh yeah," she said. "She's still up in Manehatten with the Crusaders." Her smile deepened. "Along with Scootaloo."
Spike let the comment pass.
"So, it's just you on the farm now? You run it by yourself?"
"Yep, pretty much," she answered. "Sometimes Cherilee brings the young'uns out here on a field trip to help me gather 'em up, but for the most part it's just me."
Spike drained his mug and set it down with an audible thunk, and letting out a contented ahhhh. His eyes went to the window for a moment, and the blue-grey light that streamed in over the sink.
"Do you ever see any of the others?" he asked still looking out. "The Mane Six, I mean."
Applejack leaned back on the bench.
"No, not very often," she said. "Every once in a blue moon I'll see Dash streak overhead, but she's always in a hurry, Wonderbolts business and all. Pinkie Pie took to wandering like Cheese Sandwhich a while back and hasn't been back to Ponyville. Rarity's up there in Manehatten, running her growing empire, and Fluttershy…" Her voice trailed off. "Well, she spends more and more of her time in the woods, working with the animals. Zecora helps with, uh, her little bat problem."
"So, it's gotten worse, then?"
Always one to keep things upbeat, Applejack switched tones. "But, I do get to see them at the Grand Galloping Gala, when I can break away. It's always good to see Twilight there, too."
Spike leaned over the table, and interlaced his claws together.
"Do you ever miss it?" he asked.
Applejack held his gaze. "Do I miss having six of my favorite people in the world around, and seeing them every day? Well, of course, I do. But since Twilight moved to Canterlot, we've all got more things on our plate than just adventures and lessons in friendship." She laughed. "Perhaps the ultimate lesson in friendship: It won't always be this way."
"But what if it could be?" Spike asked. "What if seeing them, being around them, was the most important thing you could do?"
"I wish that were true, Spike." He loved the way she said his name, Spiiike. "But all of us have responsibilities now. I have the farm, Rainbow Dash as the 'Bolts, Fluttershy has the animals and her health, Rarity has her business, and who knows what Pinky's up to these days. And Twilight, well she's got more than anyone. We'll always be friends, don't you worry about that, but life…life just sorta moves on. You hope you can hold onto to a part of what you had when you were a young'un, but it doesn't always work like that."
She looked up at him. "It's like you and the Crusaders. You four used to be thick as thieves. You're still the Guardians of Valor, and all, but you have your own lives now. It's a natural as rain, as growing up."
She finished her mug and sighed.
"Well, I better get back to it. Are you sure I can't convince you to stay a spell? We'd love have you around."
"No, I can't," Spike replied. "I need to head out by sundown tonight, but I'd be happy to give you a hand around here in the meantime."
Applejack grinned, just like old times. "Well, alright."
That day he helped in any way he could. He fed the pigs, he made minor repairs to the barn, to the feeders, and water chutes. He weeded the garden, and mended fences. As the sun began its slow descent in the afternoon sky, Spike joined Applejack on in the orchard and the two of them became apple-bucking forces of nature.
Spike loved the exertion, the heat, and feeling of accomplishment as the day wore on. Few in Equestria, even Earth Ponies, could hope to match his draconic strength and endurance…except for Applejack, whose energy and raw power seemed nearly impossible at times. Her hat showed signs of sweat soaking the edges, but she never slowed, never broke pace, even when Spike could feel his muscles wearing down.
She does this every day, he thought. Amazing. It was a privilege to work beside her.
As the evening sky set in, gold fading into violet, they brought in the apples they had picked, buckets and buckets of them, which they deposited into stout barrels. Spike was tired, but it was the good kind of tired, that seemed to invigorate him. His plan might have been served if he had been fresh and well-rested before nightfall, but he had to move on, and he couldn't have watched Applejack work alone.
Alone.
He was used to thinking of himself in that way, but not Applejack, not one of the Aspects of Harmony. That she spent her days largely alone felt wrong, now more than ever.
He said his good-byes just before the moon came up, and hugged her neck tight.
"Don't be a stranger, okay Spike?" she said to him. "Come back, soon. Please."
"I will."
The truth was he wasn't sure when or if he would be back, and saying that he would to the very personification of honesty clawed at his guts.
A lump welled up in his throat as he turned his steps towards his next destination.
The Everfree Forest.
