"show me your horse and i will tell you what you are" – english proverb

Ty picked up Amy's cell. She was in the yard, working with Pumpkin – a cranky mare with a distaste for trailers. He didn't think she'd mind, since the call was only from Scott and they had gotten used to answering calls for each other over the years.

"Hey," Ty greeted casually. He and Scott had been working together for years; since graduating from vet school, he and Scott had continued to work together. Ty had become more of a partner than anything in the past few years, although he wasn't officially one yet. He had a feeling though that his name would be on the building before the year was out – Scott had basically told him as much.

"Ty?" Scott exclaimed, confusedly mumbling, "Oh, I thought I called Amy."

"You did," Ty assured him before the older man thought he was losing his mind. "She's working with a horse. Do you need her?"

"Uh, well, I was going to stop by in an hour or so. I just wanted to make sure she'd be home."

"All day, every day," Ty joked. "Is something wrong?"

"Just need to talk," Scott brushed off his words.

"See you soon, then."

Ty hung up the phone, placing it back down on the desk in the barn office. Before he could turn around, he felt tiny hands clutching at his knee. He looked down at the blond little boy clinging to his leg.

"Dad, Dad, Dad, Dad," the toddler chanted. "Dada!" He stretched his arms up.

Ty picked up his son, cradling him against his hip. "Hey, Mason. What are you up to?"

"Wanted to come visit the horses," Jack explained from the doorway. "Although he became distracted when he saw you."

"Ponies," Mason remembered. "Daddy, ponies please."

"Got him?" Jack confirmed. "I'm supposed to be heading into town with Lisa."

"Go, I've got him," Ty encouraged, giving Mason a hug.

"Daddy, ponies please," Mason stressed.

"What pony do you want to see?" Ty asked him.

"Mommy pony," Mason answered seriously.

Ty stepped into the main hall of the barn. He went to one of the middle stalls, draping Mason across the half door, so that his feet were on the inside of the stall and he was facing the back wall of it. Ty clamped his hands tighter around Mason's hips as the young child giggled and clapped, catching the attention of the aging horse within the stall.

Spartan ambled forward from the back of the stall, sniffing at Mason's feet. Mason stretched forward, aggressively patting Spartan on the nose. The horse, used to the rough and tumble loving of the three-year-old boy, didn't react. He slid his tongue across the little boy's bare leg, up to the hem of his denim shorts. Mason laughed, and Ty smiled at the sight. It was hard to believe that the grey-muzzled mustang was the screaming, traumatized horse he'd met in his first few days at Heartland. Though Spartan still had the spirit he always had, he was also calm like he never had been before, particularly around the little boy; as if he were aware that Mason was more delicate than the other humans he interacted with.

"Daddy, treat," Mason requested on the horse's behalf.

"For you or Spartan?" Ty chuckled.

Mason turned his head, giving Ty a sassy look. "For Pa … Pasar … Sar …" Mason whined, knowing that he couldn't say Spartan's name properly. He usually avoided saying it because of that very reason, calling the black horse 'Mommy pony' instead. "Pasartan," he finally said.

Ty chortled. "Close enough."

"What's close?" The light voice rang down the barn hall, and Ty turned his head to see his wife waltzing down the barn, swinging a lead line from her hands.

"Pasartan needs a treat," Mason announced, proud of himself for saying the name.

Amy reached into her jeans pocket, producing a peppermint. "Hand …"

"Flat!" Mason finished, knowing the rules for feeding the horses. "Hand flat, flat hand!"

Smiling, Amy passed her child the mint. He flattened his palm, treating the calm old horse. As Mason talked and petted Spartan, Amy kissed Ty on the lips, snuggling against his shoulder.

"How's Pumpkin?" Ty asked her.

"She'll walk in, but she won't let us shut the door," Amy sighed. "I'm giving her a break."

"Scott called," Ty mentioned. "He's popping in later."

"Oh, what for?"

"Not sure. We'll find out soon enough," Ty shrugged.

"Mommy," Mason started.

"Yes, baby?"

"Pasartan needs treat 'gain."

The old horse nickered. He stretched his head past Mason and Ty, so that his nose was brushing Amy's arm. Amy stepped closer to the stall door so that Spartan could drop his greying muzzle against her chest. Amy brushed her fingers along the other side of his chin, and Spartan sighed contentedly, heaving a heavy sigh against his girl.

"Mommy?"

"Yes, Mas?"

"Ride?" Mason requested.

"Sure, hon." Amy agreed. "Want to help me tack, Commy?"

The Commander was a palomino Shetland Amy had rescued several years ago from a shambling barn he'd been left inside of. He was meant to be rehomed, but the day Amy met The Commander was the day she found out she was expecting. She had taken it as a sign, and the pony had a home ever since. And, really, she couldn't have asked for a better pony for Mason. The Commander, like most ponies, despised most people and was bossy on a good day, but he adored Mason. When the little boy was around, The Commander became the pony every parent dreamt of their child having. He was patient, considerate, and polite, with just enough sass to keep Mason enamoured. Ty said the pony's personality was because The Commander and Mason had the same hair colour – Commy thought Mason was his own.

Ty put Mason down on the floor of the barn, and the boy immediately reached up and grabbed one hand of his mother's and one hand of his father's. Smiling, he lugged them to the tack room. Ty was burdened with the saddle while Amy toted the grooming kit. Mason carried the small bridle himself.

Commy was tied in the hall. He nipped at the lead line, shaking his head and snorting. But he didn't flinch or move away from Mason's touch. They were almost done grooming when Scott appeared in the doorway. He approached the little family, smiling at them, although the expression was tainted with something yet unknown.

"Hey, Scott!" Ty was the first to acknowledge their visitor.

"Hi!" Mason chirped.

Amy lifted from her crouch. "What's up, Scott? Ty said you called."

Scott was leaning against Spartan's stall door, looking in at the horse. "Join me in here?" He requested, sliding open the stall door.

"Sure," Amy agreed. She brushed her hand along the top of Mason's head, telling him, "Daddy will help you tack Commy, and I'll meet you out in the pen, okay?"

"Okay!" Mason agreed.

Amy followed Scott into Spartan's stall. Scott was running his hand along the gelding's back. Amy touched Spartan's neck, and then she met Scott's eyes.

"What's going on?" She questioned.

"I got Spartan's check-up results back," Scott began slowly.

"All good?" Amy asked, although her mouth went dry. Scott wouldn't be here if everything was okay. Fearfully, she wound her fingers though the coarse hair of Spartan's mane, hanging on to him.

"Cancer," Scott dropped the word, and Amy needed no further explanation.

She turned her back to Scott, wrapping her arms around Spartan's neck. She nestled her face against him, heart beating erratically. Spartan was nearly thirty years old. She'd known, somewhere in the back of her mind, that old age and all of the consequences of that, was steadily taking over her boy. He was slowing down; arthritis had set in; and his once raven hair was turning grey. But she'd always thought there was more time. He was still strong and, despite the arthritis, he wasn't living a painful life. But cancer … this wasn't something she could heal. After all they had gone through together, this was not something she could save him from.

Amy turned her head, peeking at Scott. "Is … is he in pain?"

Her voice broke and she fell the swell of tears. She couldn't stand the thought of Spartan in pain.

"No," Scott answered. "Not yet."

"How long?"

"That would depend, Amy, you know that. It's all about treatments and how he responds. It's in the beginning stages, so … But he's old. He's had an amazing life. Look, no decisions have to be made right now."

"How long before it starts to hurt him?" Amy pushed, running her hand along the slope of Spartan's shoulder. The tears began to cascade down her face, "I don't want him in pain, Scott."

"I know. It's hard to tell, like I said before. But, it could happen very quickly."

"If it were you," Amy whispered, "what would you do?"

Scott looked at her face; the woman he'd known since she was a little girl, long before the death of her mother – long before she became a mother herself. He then looked at the horse; once a tormented rescue that he recommended be put down before any damaged anyone, now a beloved member of the family – a girl's best friend.

"I'd tell him I loved him," Scott answered honestly, "And I'd let him go."

"I want another week," Amy said decisively, although her lips trembled. "Just one more."

"Whatever you need," Scott agreed, more than aware of how hard it could be to let go of a horse who meant so much; who you had loved for so long.

"But it won't hurt him?" Amy pressed, although if she'd have been thinking clearly, she could have answered those questions herself. "It won't …"

"No," Scott assured her, "That's fine. Take what you need."

"A week from today at noon," Amy informed him. "That's when."

"You don't have to do that right now," Scott protested. "It's not something to rush into."

"If I don't, I won't," Amy explained to him. "I just can't let go."

She let out a shaky sob and draped herself across Spartan's broad back. The horse released a deep noise at the contact, but leaned toward her, supporting her weight. He turned his head as best as he could and managed to touch Amy's hip. He may not have understood what was going on, but after years of being hers, he knew when his girl was upset.

Scott reached out and rubbed Amy's back.

"Can … can you leave us alone, Scott?" Amy requested. "Please."

"Sure," Scott agreed. "I'll see you later. I'm so sorry."

"Me too," Amy managed. "Me too."

As Scott left the stall, Amy twisted Spartan's head so that she was holding his face in his arms. She kissed him between his eyes, stroking his cheeks.

"I love you boy," she breathed, and his ears flicked around to catch her voice. "Never forget that."

(-.-)

"there is no secret so close as that between a rider and her horse"

That night, after Mason had been put to bed, Amy returned to the barn to sit with Spartan. She arranged a hay bale in the corner of his stall and settled herself on it, just watching the old horse. He paid her a bit of attention, and the hay she was sitting on a bit more attention, before he lost interest, retreating to the opposite wall to relax. She was content to sit there and studying the curves of his hooves and the crest of his mane. She didn't want to think about anything beyond the physical body of her horse; the way his tail swished and his ears snapped.

She only moved when she heard Ty approach the stall.

"Can I come in?" He asked.

She nodded, and scooted so that there was enough room on the bale for the two of them. Spartan snorted at the new person in his stall but otherwise didn't move. Ty dropped onto the bale beside his wife, putting his arm around her.

"What's that?" She asked, before he could ask how she was feeling, again.

Ty looked down at the gaudy pink book in his hand. "I got Lou to put this together … after I found out."

He slid the book onto Amy's lap and, curiosity peaked, she cracked it open. It was photo album, bursting with all of the moments that had been caught between her and Spartan over the years.

"Oh, Ty," she breathed.

Lou, true to her perfectionist form, had organized the pictures in chronological order, even though she'd only had a few hours to find and create the photo album before delivering it to Ty. Amy supposed the time constraint was to blame for the colour. Still, it was one of the most precious things Amy had ever seen.

Drawn by the strange sound of the rustling photo pages, Spartan crossed to the side of the stall where Amy and Ty were sitting. He sniffed at the strange book, his lips clamping around the pages as if he were going to eat it, although he quickly realized that the pages couldn't be eaten, and snorted in disappointment over that fact.

"Here," Amy whispered, dropping her hand into her sweater pocket, and pulling out a peppermint; of which she seemed to have a never ending supply. Spartan took the treat, and then stayed near the two of them, pulling hay out of the bale they were seated on.

Amy studied the first picture in the book. It would be impossible not to know when this picture was taken. Spartan looked so impossibly wild; she looked so impossibly young. They were both reeling from an accident that they didn't understand – that they never really would. He was trapped inside his stall, angry and pacing; she could tell from the way that his black blurred that he was emotion. Only the very edge of her profile had been caught in the picture. Enough that now, years after the photo was taken, Amy could plainly see the heartbreak and the hopelessness written all over her features. She had come so far from the little girl that had lost her mother, but sometimes, Amy acknowledged, she still felt like that person. But Spartan … He had never been that horse again. He had never been that angry, vengeful beast that had lashed out at her; tried to harm her.

"Do you remember the accident, boy?" Amy whispered to the horse. "Do you remember the night we met?"

Spartan's tail whipped loudly, as if he did remember, and he didn't want to.

"It's been a long time since then," Amy mused. "But it feels just like yesterday."

"Maybe a different picture," Ty suggested as she leaned against him. He opened the book to a random page, and then he laughed. "Now, there's a story."

"Oh," Amy sighed, looking at the photo. "You were so upset with me."

"I wasn't upset!" Ty defended himself. "I was worried."

"There was no need to worry," Amy explained, smiling at the memory of Ty's anxious face when he'd seen her. "Right, Spartan? You had everything handled."

Spartan snorted, nudging at Ty's leg.

"You were four days away from your due date and on a horse," Ty exclaimed. "How was I supposed to react?"

"Um, not like you did," Amy joked. "I was just … sitting."

"Bareback."

"Come on, Ty, you should just be impressed that I managed to get up there." Amy considered, and then added, "And back down, without going into labour."

Ty laughed, and then corrected her. "Amy, you had Mason that night. I think you did it so that you would end up going into labour."

Amy gaped at Ty as Spartan dropped his head into her arms. She then looked conspiratorially at Spartan, "Shh, boy, he never has to know the truth."

Ty ran his hand along Spartan's neck. "The things that I would know about you, Amy Borden, if this horse could talk."

"Probably better he can't then," Amy giggled. "Or you'd be running for the hills."

She sighed then, nuzzling further into Spartan. "Who am I gonna talk to now, boy? Who's always going to be there to listen to me?"

Spartan sighed, as his girl had only moments earlier. And then he nudged at the photo album, as if he wanted to see more pictures of himself.

"You vain little horse," Amy accused, but she flipped to a new page. "Here. That's Zephyr. I bet you still remember all your liberty training. You were always such a good performer."

"That's because he had a good rider," Ty complimented her.

"And because his rider had a good coach," Amy joked, reminding Ty of the time he'd attempted to coach her show jumping.

"What can I say, I'm brilliant! Right, Spartan?"

The old horse made a 'whumph' noise, and then his lips began to wander around Ty's jean pockets.

"Spartan needs bribery," Amy pointed out.

"Oh really?" Ty grinned. "You think he needs bribery to think I'm brilliant."

"I absolutely know he needs bribery. He's a smart old boy …"

"He loves you Amy, you know that."

"I know," Amy sniffed, running her hands underneath her eyes, as if that alone could keep her from crying. "I can't … I can't imagine life without him here. I can't come into the barn every morning and see another horse in his stall. Ty, I can't put him through anything else; I can't keep him around just for him to be in pain, but I don't want him to go. I love him too much."

"You know as well as I do that sometimes love is doing the right thing, even if it's not what you want to do. You know as well as I do that you're making the best decision for him. He knows you love him, and he trusts you to keep him from pain. He's had a beautiful life with you, and no one can say you didn't love him properly."

"I want to love him longer," Amy whispered, knowing that she'd love Spartan for the rest of her life.

Ty was at a loss for words. Spartan, sensing the emotional turmoil stayed close to the hay bale. He sniffed along the couple's legs, ran his nose along the photo album that he still didn't understand. His breath flipped the page and Spartan tossed his head, confused at to what just happened.

"I remember that," Amy whispered, glancing down at the photo.

"Mason's first ride," Ty whispered, remembering the heated summer day, not too long ago.

(-.-)

"there is something about riding on a prancing horse that makes you feel like something, even when you ain't worth a thing" – will rogers

Two year old Mason thumped his hands against the side of Ty's head.

"Ow, buddy," Ty complained, leaning the side of his face away from his son's eager palms. "What is it?"

"Ma," Mason demanded. "Mama. Mama."

"Let's go find her." Ty readjusted his hold on Mason. The young boy squirmed as the ventured out into the summer heat.

The steady sound of hoof beats reached him, and Ty knew automatically where to head. He went to the round pen, he and Mason peeking through the slats to spy on Amy and Spartan. Bareback and bridle-less, horse and rider were the definition of synchronization. With no discernable effort on Amy's part, they sped up and slowed down; switched directions; wound in convoluted serpentines. At last, she brought him to a halt in the centre of the ring. Mason clapped his hands together, applauding his mother.

"Hello there, Mister," Amy called, once again nudging Spartan forward. "I didn't see you."

"Mama," Mason called.

"What?"

"Pony," and he pointed to Spartan.

"Want to come up with me?" Amy guessed.

"Yes! Yes!" He reached for her, as if he could slide between the fence poles.

"Hey, we have to use the door," Ty caught Mason around the stomach. The boy began to wail as Ty seemingly walked away from Amy. "It's all right. We're just going in the pen. See, there, no more tears, okay?"

Amy met him at the gate.

"Do you want a bridle for Spartan or anything?" Ty offered.

"Nah. We're okay. We're just going to sit for a while, right, Mas?"

"Right!"

Ty passed his son to his wife, who settled the little boy in front of her.

"One leg on either side of him. Right, there you go. Now, be careful not to kick him … Yes, you can pet his neck. Yup, just like that!" Amy dropped a kiss on top of Mason's blond head. "How do we look?" She asked Ty.

"Perfect!" He called back, and then he reached for his cell phone. "Let me get a picture!"

Both horse, woman, and child held still as he positioned the photo just right. He caught the moment of Spartan, turning his head to look at the camera; Mason, as he grabbed fistfuls of Spartan's mane, grinning wildly at actually being on a horse; and Amy, one hand on her horse, one hand on her son, the sunshine catching her windblown hair, looking every bit the cowgirl she was.

"And now," Amy announced, "We walk!"

And forward they headed.

(-.-)

"learn this well … the last ride is never the last ride and the end is not the end" – richard rowland

Amy woke early that morning, the word 'today' weighing heavily on her mind. Today, today, today. Today was the last full day; Spartan's last full day. At noon tomorrow … Amy closed her eyes against the thought. She knew it was what was best for him. She knew that, if she let it go any longer, her horse would be in pain, and that she could not bear.

Rising slowly, carefully, Amy slid out of bed, not wanting to disturb Ty. Dawn hadn't yet come to Alberta, and she knew that Mason would wake him up soon enough, though it would be long after she had gone. She pulled on her clothes in the semi-darkness, feeling the stiff creases of her jeans smooth as they ran over her legs. She donned a tank top, and then one of her favourite plaid button-ups. She ran a brush through her hair, and then left her bedroom. She slipped quietly past Mason's room, down into the kitchen. She grabbed the lunch she had prepared for herself last night and the homemade horse treats she had made for Spartan. She pulled on her boots and cowboy hat, and out the door she went, crossing the barn and going into the yard.

Most of the horses were still dozing in their stalls, confusedly nickering as the woke to her presence. Amy could almost read their thoughts: it's too early for humans; too early for people. Something must be happening!

Spatan hung his head over his stall door and called for Amy, as though he knew that he was the reason she was there. Amy dropped off her lunch and slipped him one of the horse treats, leaving him alone to crunch as she went to get his tack. As she carried the saddle and bridle to Spartan's stall, the tears began to fall. This was the last time that she would tack her horse. This was the last time that she would spread the saddle blanket over his broad back, readjusting the saddle before doing up his cinch. This was the last time that he, knowing what she wanted, would drop his head into his bridle, holding still as she did up the leather straps. It would be the last time she loaded his saddle bags, before leading him out of the barn door into the yard.

She kissed him on the cheek before mounting, casually swinging her leg over his broad back as she had done so many times before. Taking a deep breath of the cool morning air, Amy attempted to find peace. This was her last day with Spartan, and she didn't want to spend all of it crying over what she knew she was about to lose. She wanted to enjoy the coming hours with him, loping over the grassy fields, trekking through the sluggish streams, stopping for lunch whenever they pleased. After all the time they had spent together – healing, show jumping, liberty training, trail riding, cattle herding, sheep herding – she wanted just a few hours more, just girl and horse.

"Okay, boy, let's go," she breathed, and touched her heels to his side.

And then they were off, heading over the fields as they had done a thousand times before, but only this one last time.

(-.-)

"the horse knows. he knows if you know. he also knows if you don't know" – ray hunt

Amy dipped her toes in the cool stream, Spartan drinking from the water next to her. They had finally stopped for lunch, after wandering about for hours. As she sat and ate her sandwich, her mind wandered. She desperately tried to keep from thinking about tomorrow; about life without her horse. So, instead of thinking about that, she thought of her mother.

Lying back in the grass, Amy focused on Marion Fleming; the woman who had died too early in life. Where would I be, Amy wondered, if Mom had survived the accident? If Marion had survived, Amy doubted that she and Spartan would have the bond that they did. Her hatred for the black horse would not have run as deep as it had. In fact, it probably would have been Marion who healed him, since Amy would have gone on with her routine of high school and having involvement in the running of Heartland only when it was convenient to her education schedule (her mother's insistence) instead of taking over the business like she had. Lou would never have come back to Alberta like she had, so she wouldn't have met Peter. There would be no Katie, perhaps no Georgie, and with Marion around, it was up in the air what would have happened between Amy and Ty.

"Life would be so different," Amy commented aloud. Would it have been a good different or a bad different? She didn't know, and couldn't bring herself to wonder any further about it. To say that life with Marion would have been a 'bad different' would be an insult to her mother; but to say that it would have been a 'good different' would be an insult to the amazing life that Amy had led so far.

So, instead she thought of something else.

"Hey Spartan," she began, as if she were starting a question to someone who could answer, "Do you remember Pegasus?"

Her horse continued to chew thoughtfully on his grass, giving no indication on whether or not he remembered the aged gelding who had passed on so long ago.

"I remember what he was like, when Mom was still alive. He completely changed after she was gone; after he realized that she wasn't coming back. They loved each other a lot, because they saved each other. Kind of like how you and I always save each other." Amy sat up as Spartan walked to her, dropping his head toward her lap. "What am I going to do without you around to save me?"

Spartan lifted his head slightly, so that she could see the calm, contemplative look in his dark brown eyes. He blinked slowly, as if to tell her that she would be all right; that she didn't need him.

"I love you though," Amy argued. "I love you a lot. And, if I had it my way, I would keep you around forever."

A tear slipped down her cheek.

"Spartan … I'm so sorry. I'm sorry I can't fix this, and I'm sorry about what I have to do tomorrow. I love you, okay, and I promise you, someday I'll see you again. That's what everyone says, right? That there's a place I'll see you again."

Her words dissolved into choking sobs, and she just let herself cry, wondering how much Spartan understood of what was going on. If he knew that he had cancer; if he knew what it meant to be put down.

"I love you," she repeated, like she had so many times in the past few days, because she needed to make sure he knew.

Spartan rested his head against her shoulder.

He knew.

(-.-)

"Coffee," Ty murmured, so softly that Amy wouldn't have known he'd spoken if she hadn't watched his lips move.

She silently took the mug from him, wrapping her hands around the heated ceramic and took a sip. Spartan, even at Ty's entrance, didn't move from where he was standing against the back wall.

"How are you?" Ty asked her after a moment.

He'd been worried about her since Scott's announcement and her decision to put Spartan down, but his anxiety had only increased since she'd left on her last ride with Spartan yesterday morning. She hadn't returned from her trip until after dark, and had elected to sleep in Spartan's stall with him, on his last night, instead of coming to bed with him. He knew that it was typical of Amy to want to stay with her horse; and he couldn't say he blamed her for wanting to be with Spartan as much as she could. If it were Harley, Ty knew it would be difficult to coax him away from the barn. But Amy and Spartan were different than any other horse and rider that he had ever known. They had saved one another from their own nightmares, and though Amy had seen hundreds – if not thousands – of horses come and go, he knew that she'd never have another one like Spartan. For everyone in the family, losing Spartan was like losing a member. Spartan wasn't just Amy's horse, he was a child; a nephew; a beloved.

"I'll be all right," Amy decided after a moment. "But, this is one of the hardest days … Because I knew it was coming. I've been able to count down the moments until I … until I … until he goes. And that hasn't been easy."

Ty settled his arm around her shoulder. "I know it hasn't been. And I know that it's going to be hard, but we're all here for you. And Spartan, he knows whatever it is you could possibly tell him. And all good horses go to heaven, right?"

Amy smiled weakly. "Right."

She finished her coffee, aware that there was only a few hours left.

"Where's Mas?"

"He's with Georgie and Katie, remember? It's slip 'n' slide day."

"Right," Amy recalled, though vaguely. "We'll have to go over … after."

"Only if you feel like it. Just because he's a horse doesn't mean that death is easier."

Amy winced at the words. She stood up. "I think I'm going to groom him."

"Okay," Ty agreed. He reached up and caught her hand. "Do you want me around right now?"

"Yeah, I think so."

Ty let her go, satisfied with her answer. As she went to get Spartan's grooming kit, he went over to the black horse, who had finally stood up, shaking the shavings off himself.

"Spartan," he addressed the gelding. "I know you're smarter than any of us ever give you credit for, and I think you know exactly what I'm saying, when I tell you that, even though we have to put you down, she didn't make this decision lightly. And she's going to miss you every day, so, please, let me ask of you … don't leave her. And I think you know exactly what I mean by that."

Spartan snorted, his aged eyes, the hair around them turning silver and grey, boring into Ty's. He tossed his head, flipping his forelock about, as if to tell Ty: of course I know what you mean. I had already planned it.

"I know that when she's with you, she's in good hands … hooves. You've been the best horse, Spartan, and we're all going to miss you."

He rested his hand against the horse's neck, trying not to be overcome. He needed to be strong for Amy; he couldn't let her see that he, too, was crying over the black horse that had been such an integral part of their lives for so long.

"Ty Borden, are you having a conversation with my horse?"

"Not one that I'll admit to," Ty commented cryptically. "As you've always said, Spartan knows how to keep a secret."

"Spartan will tell me," Amy replied confidently. "He tells me everything."

The horse winked at Ty, before he dipped his head toward Amy's hand, knowing that she would have a treat for him. She had been giving him more and more treats lately, and he wasn't going to complain about it. Spartan crunched on his peppermint, swishing his tail as Amy began to groom him. He lazily flicked his ears she and Ty talked about this and that (and not about what was happening in just under an hour).

"Ty, will you get me some scissors, please?" Amy requested.

Her husband left the stall, and Amy braided a portion of Spartan's mane. She carefully measured it out, hoping that she had braided just enough. Ty came back from the scissors and, with one snip, she cut the chunk of hair away from Spartan. She quickly wrapped rubber bands around the ends to make sure that it would not come undone, and tucked the piece of mane into her pocket. Later, she would turn the braid into a bracelet, so that she could keep him with her.

"Sorry boy," Amy apologized, running her thumb along the little bald spot in Spartan's main. "I know you're a little vain."

Spartan snorted, as if to say that he was no such thing.

And then Amy heard the rumble of a truck. Scott's truck. It was noon and, just like he had promised, he was here. Fresh tears began to leak down Amy's cheek. It couldn't be time, not yet. Selfishly, desperately, she thought that she should send Scott away and take one more day for Spartan. Twenty-four more hours couldn't hurt.

But Amy knew better. She knew that one more day would turn into one more, and that would turn into pain and suffering. She refused to watch Spartan in pain. She refused to watch him wilt away. No, she would spare him all of that. Because she knew, whether she put him down today or forced him through another year, that it would not get easier. It would only get harder.

She rested her head against Spartan's neck, her arms encircling him. She gently whispered nonsense to him. "I love you. I love you. My horse, my boy. Thank you. Thank you for being here."

"Afternoon, Amy, Ty, Spartan," Scott rumbled his greeting.

"Can we be quick, Scott?" Amy requested. "Please."

"Absolutely." Scott rested his hands against Spartan's neck. He was such a good old boy; Scott hated to see him go – he hated to see the legacy of Amy and Spartan, the miracle girl and her miracle horse, end. "Can we lay him down, Amy?"

She nodded. It was just one of the tricks that she had taught Spartan over the years and, for the very last time, she guided him down. Spartan curled his legs underneath of him, lying on his side as his girl sat by his head. He lowered his head so that he was resting in her lap.

"Are you ready?" Scott asked after a moment.

Amy ran her hand along Spartan's face. She dropped a kiss to his velvety nose, and then between his eyes. She took a moment to memorize how his hot breath felt against the inside of her thigh, and then she looked her horse in the eye.

"I'm ready," she told Scott. "I love you. Goodbye, Spartan."

Amy didn't look at the euthenization. She just focused on Spartan's gentle brown eyes; how his soft hair felt as she ran her hands over his face. She was acutely aware of her heart crumbling as his eyes closed, as his breath slowed and then, finally stopped … She curled around his head, knowing that he was the equine love of her life.

"Goodbye," she whispered.

(-.-)

"no heaven can heaven be, if my horse isn't there to welcome me"

As she did at least once a day, Amy visited the tree they had planted over Spartan's. It was in his favourite corner of the field. The tiny weeping willow was framed by the setting sun when she arrived that windy evening on foot. She couldn't bring herself to ride right now, outside of her job. She just couldn't bring herself to tack up a horse and ride out for pleasure, always becoming overwhelmed by the memory of her last ride with Spartan.

Amy reached out and touched the branches of the tree, before kneeling down by the painfully fresh grave. She grabbed a handful of earth in her hand, turning the dirt over and over in her grip. It was hard to reconcile the image of her horse – her jumper, her dancer, her best friend – being buried, though she had been there when it had happened, had ceremoniously thrown the first handful of dirt.

"I miss you," Amy admitted, talking to Spartan as if he could still hear her. "I wish you were still here. Sometimes, in the morning, I think I see you in your stall and then I have to remind myself you're not there."

Amy paused to wipe a tear away from her eye, and then she heard it. The throaty neigh of a horse. Alarmed, she looked around. There shouldn't be any horses in the field; there was a section of fence down that she hadn't gotten around to fixing yet. She cast her gaze around the field that was seemingly empty, until she saw what looked like the outline of a horse, framed against the dying tendrils of sunlight. She rose to her feet, about to run after the stray, when something made her pause.

She knew the outline of that horse, better than she had known any other. She touched the bracelet of black hair on her wrist.

"Spartan," she whispered.

And, as the neigh sounded again, she realized she knew that sound. She knew that, somehow, it was her horse standing on the little hill meters upon meters away from her.

"Spartan!" She shouted as the dark outline lifted one hoof, as if in greeting … or farewell.

Amy found herself shouting his name again, stumbling toward him. Her heart ached as she watched the phantom horse turn his back on her and begin to run away.

"Don't leave me!" She begged, falling to her knees, tears streaming down her face.

But then she watched as Spartan switched directions, running toward home. He'd never leave her, because he loved her too. Amy lifted her face toward the dying sun and, somehow, managed to find it in her to smile. Perhaps out of sight, but never out of mind, and never out of her heart, Spartan was her horse, forever.

"all horses deserve, at least once in their lives, to be loved by a little girl"

This is an unedited piece. And yes, I cried. Do you know how hard it is to write emotional fanfiction with a roommate? Uni problems … Anyway, r&r. I don't own anything recognizable.

~TLL~