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He couldn’t bring himself to finish the note from Princess Celestia. All he read was “I’m so sorry Spike, friends, but Twilight was injured-” and crumbled. Rarity took the note from him, finishing reading it and fainting on Rainbow Dash, who was holding back an incredible amount of tears. Pinkie didn’t try to hide her feelings. She was wailing, along with Fluttershy. The only pony who showed next to no emotion, was Apple Jack. She was just staring in shock.
Spike didn’t know what to do. Cry? Scream? Hit something, somepony? Send a note back to the Princess, telling her that she probably has the wrong pony? He couldn’t bring himself to try anything. He sat there, crumpled in a ball whilst Rainbow Dash and Apple Jack tried to wake up Rarity.
Thoughts swirled in the little dragon’s mind. What did I do wrong? I should have gone with her. I would’ve helped her—I could have saved her! Why didn’t I try? I should’ve insisted I went with, instead of letting her go on her own. This is all my fault, isn’t it?
Rarity woke up, sitting up slowly. She began blinking rapidly, glancing around in a panic.
“Where’s Twilight?” She asked, confused and clearly in a daze.
That broke the dam.
Spike burst into tears, all the built up tension from the past—2 minutes, maybe? He lost it. Rarity looked at him funny, until her face dropped. She remembered.
“Now uh, I-I think we should uh, we should head on over to Canterlot. Check out…How everypony else is doing.” Apple Jack said, reaching her hoof around Rainbow Dash’s face to wipe her tears.
“Y-yeah!” Rainbow Dash’s voice cracked. Spike didn’t understand how Apple Jack seemed so…so calm about this. Twilight was dead, gone, forever, never to come back.
Spike wished he could never come back either.
Spike stood up, but said nothing. He felt the tears still streaming from his eyes, but he didn’t care. He began to walk away from the group, heading back to him and Twilight’s house.
“Now wait just a minute there Spike, where might you think you’re goin’?” Apple Jack asked in a stern voice.
Spike didn’t answer. Spike didn’t even turn around to look at Apple Jack. He just kept walking.
“He’s probably going home. I don’t blame him.” Rarity said, looking at the small dragon solemnly.
Spike was soon out of earshot from the other ponies, continuing his walk home. He was almost there. He could see the treetops in the distance. Spike thought about what he might do, once he gets back. Maybe write a letter to the princess, explaining how terribly impossible it would be for Twilight to be dead. Or maybe he would reorganise the library for when Twilight does come back.
When Spike arrived, he stood at the door. He stood there for a minute, wondering if he really should open it or not. After a good minute of pondering, he decided to open the door to the silent, dark treehouse. It was just as he remembered it this morning, when he sent Twilight off with her breakfast, her saddle pack, and a bright attitude.
Spike wandered upstairs. A good nap would fix him, he thought, glancing at his bed. He sighed heavily, gazing from his bed, to Twilight’s, and back again. He slowly migrated over to Twilight’s bed, grasping at the top sheet to propel himself upward and onto the bed. He laid there, staring at the ceiling. The same ceiling that had a book-accurate constellation map on it, made by himself for Twilight’s birthday.
Spike indulged himself in an old, awful habit he hadn’t done in awhile. He took his mildly sharp claws and dug them into his scales. It wasn’t very smart, or safe, but it made him focus on something other than his feelings for a moment. Spike sobbed. He sobbed and sobbed and sobbed until his eyes ran dry and Twilight’s pillow was soaked.
Spike knew grief, but he never knew grief like this.
Spike fell asleep, wishing he never woke up to feel this pain again.
This horrid pain of grief.