Here's chapter 2! Guys, I'm super excited about this! I hope you're liking it so far! Thanks so much to the people who have reviewed my story! It encouraged me to get started on chapter 2 right away. Readers, if you have any thoughts so far, feel free to let me know; I'm happy to hear from everybrony! ;))

Oh, and something that I noticed from the last chapter has been bugging me that I just wanted to set straight. Near the end, when Spike is listing potion names, he says "Dy. Hyde's Draft," but it should be "Dr. Jekyll's Draft." Yeah, sorry, I had the names momentarily confused.

Well, without further ado, I give you, chapter 2, aptly titled, "Chapter 2."

"Please?"

"No."

"Please?"

"Nuh uh."

"Pretty please?"

"Nope."

"Pretty please with Pinkie Pie's whipped cream and sprinkles on top?"

"Tempting, but I'll pass."

Twilight was absentmindedly responding to Spike's pleas as she used a quill to jot down the observations she had made that day in the meadows, where the butterfly migration had passed through. It was an astonishing sight; thousands of tiny wings fluttering to a tacit rhythm only the butterflies could recognize. Clouds of them would go by every minute, carried by the whim of the wind, which they would ride to their advantage. Twilight was amazed by their tenacity to stay together despite the odds against them and make their way across oceans and foreign lands just to reach their destination for the spring, only to live for a few hours afterwards. Pinkie Pie was amazed by their "cutey wutey-ness," but that didn't stop Twilight from noticing their scientific value to the world, and she promised herself she'd write down her data when she got home.

The quill was quietly scratching on an unfurled piece of parchment, and Twilight was thoroughly engrossed with her findings. Normally, Spike found this situation soothing and peaceful, and would often watch Twilight write to lull himself into a sense of security before drifting off to sleep. But now, it was just frustrating, because she was completely ignoring his request.

Just a few minutes before, Spike had heard Twilight approaching the house from the meadows, and he panicked, because he was still reading the potion book and hadn't finished a single one of his responsibilities. He haphazardly fixed the broken floorboard by using a thin strip of wood to hold the two broken pieces together and placed the finished product across the hollow stair on the staircase. He then found Twilight's recent research notes which were unkemptly strewn about her floor and desk. Gathering them up into a pile, he hid them, along with the potion book, underneath the "fixed" floorboard (since it wasn't attached to the actual staircase it could lifted at will) vowing to properly sort them the next day. He then rushed about the place, hurriedly wiping down tables and dusting the shelves, nervously glancing at the door whenever he thought he heard Twilight behind it. Spike then dashed about, lighting each of the 53 candles (yes, he counted) with a quick puff of his fire that he was so proud of. Twilight never really liked it when Spike used his fire to light the candles since this made the flames green, causing them to cast an eerie glow. But they would have to do if she didn't want to come home to a dark house in the night, which she hated even more than the green-lit candles.

Spike scrambled to the book shelves, hoping to get a chance to put away Twilight's books she read the day before, but at that moment, the door whisked itself open and in strolled Twilight. Spike looked about him desperately, trying to find himself something casual to do to make it look like he had been loyally awaiting her return upon finishing all of his chores. He plopped himself on the floor amongst Twilight's books, propping himself up with his elbow and resting his head on his outstretched hand. Spike gave a big, fake smile when Twilight noticed him lying there, but she didn't give it a second thought and didn't even notice that the house was just as disordered as it had been that morning. Instead, she returned his fake smile with a sincere one on her own and started to babble about butterflies as she made a beeline to her desk. Spike realized how lucky he was that Twilight was in her own little world tonight, and breathed out a sigh of relief as he used his free hand to wipe his brow. Since she was in such a good mood, she didn't even notice the green-lit candles or the pile of books that hadn't been put away. Spike believed that this would be the perfect time to ask her about the love potion. That she would say yes in a heart-beat to support his heartfelt crush on Rarity and make his dream a reality. Clearly, he was wrong. And clearly, he didn't know why.

"But why not, Twi?" Spike pouted, feeling defeated.

Twilight sighed, and reluctantly used magic to set her quill down on the desk. She turned to face Spike to give him her full attention. She really wanted to finish her writings, but saw the seriousness that was set in Spike's face and decided to address the issue.

"Because, Spike, potions are- wait, where did you even get the idea of a 'love potion' anyway?" she questioned, arching a brow in a quizzical manner.

"Uh…reading?" Spike vaguely stated with a shrug, not wanting to mention the old book he found.

Twilight nodded knowingly, considering this an acceptable answer, then continued.

"Well, potions are considered sorcery, and I don't want to get my hooves dirty with that sort of thing." Twilight explained, her head lifted as high as her morals.

Spike furrowed his brow. He didn't like it when Twilight acted so difficult…and used words that he didn't understand.

"Uh, what's sorcery?"

"Basically, it's magic." Twilight put simply.

Spike slapped a hand to his forehead and brought it down across his face. "But you do magic all the time!" he claimed, emphatically pointing to the quill to use it as an example. "And you don't even use your hooves, you use your horn!" he protested.

"No, you see, sorcery is like a deeper, darker magic, and even if I wanted to perform it, I don't think I'd be able to pull it off." Twilight admitted, shirking in the face of her incapabilities.

Spike brightened at this opening. Maybe if he buttered her up…

"Oh, Twilight, come on!" Spike said with a pshaw. "You're the best at magic in all of Ponyville! No, Equestria! I'm sure you could make a teensy little love potion! I mean, you beat an Ursa Minor for pony's sake!" Spike reasoned enthusiastically.

"You-you really think I could do it?" Twilight asked wistfully.

Spike gauged Twilight's current self-esteem level to see how much farther he should go till she was buttered-up enough, but not too much that she suspected his true aim. She needed one final compliment that would raise her self-esteem level to "high", but anything higher and his efforts would have been in vain.

"Twilight, you can do anything you set your brilliant mind to," he assured with a solemn flourish of his hand.

Twilight beamed and blushed all at once. "Wow, Spike! Thanks! Well, maybe I could…just this once…"

Spike nodded his head eagerly in anticipation for her answer. He was almost there!

Twilight opened her mouth to finish but then stopped, suspecting something was off, and she frowned down at Spike.

"Hey, wait a minute! You were just buttering me up so that I'd say 'yes,' weren't you?" she rightfully presumed, pointing a hoof at him accusingly.

Drat, and he was so close! Spike grimaced; he probably went too far with the "brilliant mind" part. And the flourish was kind of unnecessary. But he tried to play it off.

"Whaaat? Me? No way! You know me, Twilight! Would I ever do such a thing?" he asked innocently, beating his eyes and clasping his claws together in an angelic way.

Twilight looked him up and down, not falling for his act. "Yes," she determined. She then turned back to her desk, magically picking up her quill to continue her scrawling, indicating that the conversation was over.

Spike's shoulders slumped and he felt truly hopeless. He always thought he had a chance with Rarity, but this potion would have sealed the deal, and he could feel his chance becoming slimmer and slimmer, slipping away from his grasp. His hopelessness started turning into anger. Anger at himself for his mistake in buttering-up Twilight, but especially anger at Twilight. She was always out in Ponyville helping out everypony whenever they needed her, and most of the time this involved her using magic. She'd use her magic to help her friends in a heartbeat! But the fact that she wouldn't use her magic to help Spike? Spike, who always did as he was told, never (well, hardly ever) complained, and supported Twilight in all that she did? It was infuriating! Years of faithful servitude, never once asking of something for himself, except for this one time, and she denies his simple request! Spike clenched his teeth as well as his fists and he started to shake due to his pent up rage. He felt like he was about to explode!

"Twilight," he said, trying to keep his voice level and hide his anger, "this isn't fair!"

"Oh, Spike, you don't understand. What you're asking isn't very fair either. You're trying to get Rarity to fall for you by using artificial means that can't produce a meaningful relationship. She'd love you, but it wouldn't be her love, it wouldn't be coming from her heart. Don't you want Rarity to love you because she wants to, and not because she has to?" she reasoned, trying to soothe his injured feelings.

Hearing this, Spike started to calm down. He was beginning to understand what Twilight was getting at. But then, the hopeless feeling of losing Rarity started to surge within him, and he got scared, and pushed out Twilight's reason to make room for his passion.

"You don't understand! I love her!" Spike exclaimed.

"Then if you love her, you wouldn't do this to her, Spike. Let her decide, not some potion."

"But I don't want to lose her, Twi! At least the potion will give me a chance!"

"The potion won't last forever! Nothing does! What'll happen then?"

Spike hesitated. But then continued, sure of his love for Rarity and the love that she must have for him. "She'll realize that she really does love me! The potion…will just show her that she does!"

Twilight shook her head. "It doesn't work that way, Spike," she sadly admitted.

Spike's eyes started to well with tears. He didn't want to hear this anymore. It just reminded him of how Rarity barely noticed him. It just reminded him of how poorly unrequited his situation was. Spike fiercely rubbed his eyes, not wanting Twilight to see him cry. He was too manly for tears. Instead, he crossed his arms across his chest in a defiant manner and glared at her savagely.

"Fine! I didn't want your help anyway," he mumbled.

Twilight was taken aback with his severity, and felt sorry that she couldn't do anything for him.

"Do you…want to talk about it?" she quietly asked.

"We just did," Spike coldly told her before marching off to his bed upstairs, leaving Twilight to wallow in whatever ponies wallow in.

Twilight stared after him, feeling hurt. She turned back to her parchment and stared at it blankly. She didn't feel like writing anymore.

Spike rolled around in his bed, unable to fall asleep. The covers felt itchy over his hot scales, and he didn't like the confinement. He was mulling over tonight's "discussion" with Twilight, feeling sorrier and sorrier by the minute for how he treated her. She still hadn't come to bed yet, and it was way past her bed time, so he knew that she was thinking things over too, unable to sleep with the heated words he uttered fogging her mind. Spike was contemplating going downstairs to apologize for his behavior, when he was suddenly hit with an idea. Twilight didn't want to help him, but he knew someone who could. He grinned mischievously as he silently tip-toed to the balcony. The night air was chill and crisp and it felt nice against his bothered skin. He breathed in deeply, ridding himself of the troubles he felt moments before to focus on the current mission at hand. He stealthily looked at his surroundings; not a pony was in sight on the grounds below, so he reached for a branch on the nearby tree that met the height of the balcony, grabbed tightly to it, and skillfully made his way down the trunk, using the scattered branches as footholds. Once his tough, padded feet felt the coolness of the earth, a rush of excitement coursed through his veins. He was sneaking out. He was a deviant. And it felt refreshing. It felt good.

He smiled at his secret thrill as he peered in the direction toward the Everfree Forest.