//------------------------------//
// Rain, Rain, Rain 
// Story: In The Rough 
// by BlackRoseRaven 
//------------------------------//

Chapter Three: Rain, Rain, Rain
~BlackRoseRaven

Well, Spike reflected, at least things couldn't get any worse.
He knew that was like spitting into the wind, but all the same, he really, honestly, didn't think things could get a lot worse than they were already.
The trip had been a disaster. Back when they had been only a few hours out, one of the old packs had torn and spilled their stuff all over the road. They had struggled to fit as much as they could into other bags, but it just hadn't been possible without overstuffing them and risking them ripping, too.
So that had been great.
In the end, they had been forced to re-sort the bags, toss their few precious expendables – there went the juice boxes and the snacks Spike had packed for himself – and then they had continued on their way, now an hour or so behind schedule.
But it hadn't been long before Moonbeam had decided that she needed to take a rest. Marina obviously hadn't wanted to make waves and the fillies had been impatient at first, but after Moonbeam dropped herself on a log and refused to move, they had grudgingly dispersed.
Marina had eventually got Moonbeam back on her hooves, but Spike had realized too late that the fillies were gone. It had taken them almost half an hour for him and Marina to find the girls, and then another half hour for them to get packed up and going again because Sweetie Belle wanted to do her mane and Scootaloo fell asleep under a tree and Apple Bloom was just being cranky.
It had all been a mess, but hey, they hadn't been that far behind schedule, right?
Right?
So they had trudged onward, Marina trying to lighten the mood, Spike just wanting to get to the campsite, Moonbeam not helping and the fillies gravitating between excitable and frustrated.
It had started to rain, because of course it had started to rain. They had been close to the campsite, however, close enough they could see the park on the horizon, so they had just pushed on down the road, hiding now and then when the trees allowed it. But then they had come to another problem: at the end of the road leading into the public park, they had found a locked gate.
While sneaking around it would not have exactly been a huge task, the group had spent a good ten minutes standing in the rain, arguing about what the right thing to do was: sure, they had a permit and they were supposed to camp here for the night, but the road was closed, so was it really right for them to keep pushing forward? Spike had quickly gotten soaked and frustrated while watching the ponies futilely debate, until he'd finally sighed, turned, wiggled through the wide bars of the gate, and unlocked it from the other side before lying as he swung it open: “Guys, it was just closed.”
“Oh. I could have sworn I pushed on it.” Marina had said dubiously, and Moonbeam had silently locked her eyes on Spike, telling him that she knew precisely what he had done.
The dragon had squirmed on the spot for a moment, but then the fillies had rushed past. And Sweetie Belle had immediately stumbled at the side of the path before squeaking when it had crumbled out from beneath her, falling with a splash into a mud puddle.
Apple Bloom, not thinking, had leapt over to help her friend, and promptly fallen when the side of the road crumbled beneath her, splashing down into the creek on top of her friend.
All the screaming and commotion had attracted a local ranger, who chastised them before he explained that he'd locked the gate because the rain weakened the road and made it slippery. Marina had earnestly answered that the gate hadn't been locked, and the ranger had scratched his head in confusion before shrugging and leading them back out, telling them the safest bet was to go around to another trail: they could find a campsite from there.
So, they had gone on their way, because at this point they hadn't really had a choice. They had pushed on through the downpour, found the path, followed it into the park and set up at the first campsite they had found.
Or they had tried to, anyway: the fillies had torn open a wall of their tent while setting it up, and they were now clustered in with Marina and Moonbeam, and Spike was huddled in the corner of the torn one, because apparently one of the things Applejack had removed back in Ponyville was the little pup tent he had packed for himself.
They didn't have enough food to get through the week, they had left behind matches because Sweetie had forgotten they weren't going to have a unicorn who could create fire with them, and they were going to have to patch the tent when the rain stopped, or they weren't going to have enough room for everypony to sleep.
Well, Spike reflected, they still weren't going to have enough room for him to sleep anywhere comfortable, but he guessed that he wasn't exactly surprised by that turn of events. He had fully expected everything to somehow turn to manure: he just hadn't expected it to happen so fast.
But hey, at least things couldn't get worse, right?
“Hey Spike, do you have a moment?” asked a voice, and Spike looked up in surprise through the torn side of the tent to see Marina standing outside, smiling awkwardly as she floated a piece of cloth above her head to act as a makeshift umbrella.
“Sure, uh, come on in.” Spike said awkwardly, gesturing at the tear in the tent, and Marina nodded. She fidgeted a little on her metal hooves, glancing down almost with embarrassment at the muck on them, but Spike only smiled wryly as he shrugged and gestured at the puddle that had already formed on one side of the tent. “Don't worry. You're not going to make it any worse.”
Marina laughed awkwardly as she stepped into the tent, and she gave a sigh that was only half-relief as she tossed the soaked cloth off to the side before she shook her head out and glanced up her wet, straggling hair.
Spike studied her curiously for a few moments: Marina seemed tired. Much more tired than he had thought at first: so tired that frustration was eking through her usual smile, as her eyes wandered away from the dragon for a moment, and he understood... “Had to get away for a minute, huh?”
Marina blinked, and then she gave a lame smile before she nodded hesitantly. Spike smiled back, then he shrugged a bit as he said finally: “They mean well. Which I mean, I'm sure you already know that, but... they mean well.”
“Yes. They do.” Marina agreed after a moment, and the two were quiet for a few moments before the unicorn said honestly: “I think I'm in over my head here. And I'm sorry, too, because... you don't seem very thrilled, Spike.”
Spike smiled awkwardly, then he shrugged a bit before he studied Marina for a few moments. She was quiet, still studying him silently, and in spite of the fact she was a unicorn and had those metal limbs and, unlike him, a real hero, she had more respect for him than it felt like other ponies did.
But as his eyes lingered to those mechanical limbs, he remembered that she was a Changeling, and she knew what it was like to be an outsider, too.
He bit his lip, then he blurted out: “It really sucks.”
Marina cocked her head, and Spike rubbed awkwardly at the back of his before he continued: “Yeah, it sucks. It seems like every time something happens, I always get stuck cleaning up the mess, you know? And I guess it bothers me more because the ponies are all really good ponies, they are, but they just seem so... inconsiderate sometimes.”
Marina nodded, smiling a little as she answered: “Ponies are strange. They always mean well, I've learned that much at least... they just always seem to disagree on how to get there. I don't think they're inconsiderate so much as... oblivious. Maybe that's why they get so caught up in things that they tend to just trample everyone else on their way to get there, if that makes any sense.”
“It does to me.” Spike muttered, who understood that well after many years of being literally and figuratively trampled by the ponies.
Marina smiled a little, nodding again, and then she asked: “So is this what you do? Just look after ponies all day long?”
“Twilight's number one assistant.” Spike said with a distinct lack of his usual pride and enthusiasm, and then he sighed as he asked: “What about you? Do you just look after Moonbeam these days?”
“I think we look after each other.” Marina hesitated, then she shook her head and added: “No, Moonbeam's a... a good friend. Right now I guess I'm technically between jobs still... I just help out at the shop and sell things in Ponyville. Candy apples don't really pay the bills, unfortunately...”
Marina looked away, and Spike cocked his head curiously. Then she smiled a bit and shook herself out of whatever she was thinking about, asking instead: “So have you always been with Twilight? I don't know if that's... rude to ask or not...”
“No, it's fine.” It was a question he was often asked, after all. “Twilight hatched me when I was an egg. I've been with her ever since she was little: she's always taken care of me. And I've always been her assistant, ever since I was little, as far back as I can remember.”
Usually this was something Spike spoke of with pride, but today, he could barely manage to lift his eyes, let alone his head. Marina studied him, and then she smiled a little herself and stated, more than asked: “But I bet you think about what life would be like if you could just go your own way sometimes, don't you?”
Spike shrugged a bit, and then he said honestly: “I've spent my whole life doing things for ponies and... never really making a lot of progress towards the things I want to do. Sure, I wish I could have an adventure of my own... really of my own. But I worry, too, because I know I've had chances to leave, and I've had adventures and I've helped and...”
Marina tilted her head, then she smiled a little more. “You worry what they'll do without you. But you also like the familiarity, huh?”
Spike nodded, smiling back before he asked hesitantly: “Is that a Changeling thing? That whole... picking up on my thoughts before I can ever say it?”
Marina laughed a little, then she shrugged a bit. “Yes, but it's also... I guess I've been there before too. I'm much happier now, happier than I've ever been... but it was hard to give up being a Changeling and become... whatever I am now.”
Marina looked down at one of her mechanical limbs, and then she hesitated before admitting something that sometimes still bothered her, in the pit of her mind: “I wish sometimes I could go back to how it was before, that everything could just be the way it was. It wasn't good. It wasn't better than this. But it was easier, and I didn't have to make decisions or think for myself or feel bad about what I did. I just obeyed.
“But I know it would be bad. I know that I've done good things and... that just because I was able to ignore it, there weren't still people suffering. I was suffering, too, and I was... I wasn't me. I wasn't free.” Marina looked up with a small laugh. “Freedom is scary.”
Spike smiled a little, and there was silence between the two as they meditated on the mare's words. Spike understood she wasn't just saying these things for his sake: that she was struggling herself with... everything, really.
His eyes flicked up slightly as the pattering of the rain lessened, and Marina glanced up as well before she leaned out of the torn hole in the tent. “It's lightening.”
“It must be pretty late, though.” Spike said dubiously, letting the implications of that hang before he added: “But I guess if you get some dry wood, I can probably try and light it...”
He wasn't entirely sure if he could or not: ponies didn't seem to understand that he couldn't just breathe fire on everything: the wrong focus, the wrong reflex, and he'd end up blasting the firewood to Canterlot. His breath was hot, but it took concentration to make it searing.
The ponies had seen to that.
That wasn't fair, no. That wasn't fair at all. His magic breath had a lot of uses. He just... hadn't learned all of them yet. And that wasn't the ponies' fault, not really...
Spike realized Marina was looking at him, and he cleared his throat before he said finally: “In the meantime, I can uh, sew this up. Maybe. Did we bring anything I can use?”
“I'll go see.” Marina said, glancing out of the tent again as the rain tapered further, and then she slipped out, and Spike sighed a little before he picked himself up, giving the mare a silent 'thank you' before he slipped out of the tent.
He grimaced as he squelched immediately into mud, and he rose his foot slowly free from the muck with a scowl. So they hadn't picked the best campsite either, okay: that was understandable, they had been desperate for anywhere clear enough to throw up their tents to get out of the rain.
Spike glanced up, then frowned as he caught a rustle in the bushes. He cocked his head curiously, beginning to step towards the disturbance, but then he heard a crack, and his attention was drawn to-
Spike stared blankly as the tent the fillies had been collapsed, and the occupants immediately panicked. Marina blurted something from beside the tent, trying to get them to calm down, but then winced as a horn tore through the fabric of the tent, then ripped back and forth, tearing a large gash through the cloth wall that Sweetie Belle stuck her face through with a gasp before she squeaked when Scootaloo tried to ram out the little hole, tearing it far wider, as the shape of Apple Bloom half-rolled into the opposite side of the tent, stretching and ripping the material.
A moment later, Moonbeam tore her way out, popping the zipper loose from the tent flap, and Marina and Spike were both left staring before Apple Bloom blurted from where she had fallen, trapped inside the tent fabric: “What happened?”
Moonbeam glared at Marina, and Marina flinched before she looked back and forth, helplessly floating a bag beside her as she started: “I was just looking-”
“You idiot!” Moonbeam snapped, and Marina flinched and shrank her head. “You must have dislodged one of the poles! This is your fault!”
“I'm sorry.” Marina hurriedly apologized, shrinking back a bit before she shook her head and added: “I don't think-”
“I know that.” Moonbeam said drolly, and Spike winced before he hurried forward.
“Okay guys, let's calm down.” he said, before things could get any more out of hoof. Moonbeam scowled at him, but as ruffled as she looked, she stopped glaring at Marina, so that was something, at least. “Look, we need to patch the tents before we do anything else. Let's just get everyone organized while we have a minute and-”
Thunder crackled through the sky above, and Spike looked up in disbelief as, like a cosmic joke, the rain that had begun to lighten suddenly increased in intensity. Lightning flashed as the drizzle became a downpour once more, a heavy sheet of water pouring down over them and drenching the hapless ponies.
Sweetie Belle almost immediately burst into tears as Moonbeam swore and hurried under a tree, and Scootaloo blinked and stared dumbly up into the sky. Marina winced as she half-lifted the bag over her head as Spike grimaced and looked back and forth before his eyes locked on the pile of their other bags, safe under a thick, short tree.
Since he was already soaked and painfully aware that they weren't all going to fit inside the remaining, already-damaged tent, he hurried over to the bags and dug through the packs until he dragged out a large, folded tarp. He headed quickly back across the clearing as he took a quick look around, his sharp eyes locking on four trees in particular that would suit his needs.
He grimaced as he scampered up one of these, climbing quickly and efficiently even as the rain pelted him and the bark shifted under his claws and leaves rasped against him. He hated the dirt and the awful humid rain, but he was determined to at least do something to make it better, however much or little he could.
He tied one corner of the tarp around a branch, then hopped down and scampered to another tree, repeating the process. After a few minutes – during which the ponies only stared – he managed to get the tarp up to form a ceiling at an angle, the little dragon now covered in dirt and leaves, brushing water from his scales as he muttered: “At least we can stay a little dry.”
Moonbeam grumbled as she and the others came in under the tarp: it was a tight fit, but they all managed to scrunch in together, all the same. Spike winced as he was nearly bodychecked back out into the rain, but he managed to secure a small corner for himself as Apple Bloom said anxiously: “I think the tent's just about ruined.”
“Thank you, Spike.” Marina said pointedly.
Spike smiled, even as this went ignored by the others, Sweetie saying worriedly: “What are we going to do? We can stay here like this! It's gross and muddy and... and gross!”
“Maybe if you hadn't cut the tent open with your stupid horn we'd have somewhere to sleep.” Scootaloo grumbled, and Sweetie glared at her.
“Maybe if you hadn't torn the entire wall open-”
“Girls, this isn't going anywhere!” Marina said, exasperation seeping into her voice. “Look, we can probably use another tarp-”
“If we have one.” Moonbeam grumbled unhelpfully.
Spike sighed as the fillies shifted nervously and Marina closed her eyes for a moment, then said carefully: “Even if we don't, we can... well, we can sort of use the tents, as long as we keep them under this tarp, right? And I'm sure the weather will clear up, and... and then we won't even want the tents!”
“I don't know.” Sweetie said dubiously. “I like to sleep inside.”
Scootaloo opened her mouth, but thankfully – or not – Moonbeam cut in grumpily: “I like to eat. What are we going to do for food?”
“I know a lot about-” started Marina, but she was cut off by a baleful glare from Moonbeam, the unicorn awkwardly looking away as she shifted on her metal hooves before half-suggesting: “We passed a store?”
“What use is a store if we have no money?” argued Moonbeam, looking around at the fillies, and from the way they all shifted lamely, it was clear that she was right in assuming no one had remembered to bring any bits.
Spike sighed a little: he wanted to suggest they go home. But he knew the ponies – and especially the fillies – well enough by now that he was aware suggesting that himself would just make them dig in deeper. Marina might listen, but Moonbeam clearly just wanted to take her stress out on the Changeling, and the girls, well... there's a downside to believing you can do anything you put your mind to.
“Okay, well, we have enough at least for tomorrow-”
Moonbeam grunted, and Marina winced, as if her refusal to respond was somehow worse than her retorts. The chocolate-colored mare lowered her head a little, but before she could speak again, Apple Bloom hesitantly put forth: “Well, uh, we were all in filly scouts and I definitely know how to forage, and what's edible and... not...”
Moonbeam turned a sour, icy look on her, and Apple Bloom slowly looked away before the unicorn suddenly said rudely: “Your makeup's running.”
Apple Bloom's eyes widened as Marina winced and Scootaloo looked up with a glare, but they were thankfully interrupted by a crack of lightning, the herd of horses instinctively squeezing themselves together with a flinch. Spike took the opportunity to scramble quickly out from beneath the tarp, hurrying over to two of the bags and dragging them quickly in under the lip of the tarp as he said loudly: “Well, looks like we're going to be stuck here tonight, so we better try and get comfortable!”
The mares grumbled and shifted, but they stayed mostly quiet as Spike went about busying himself with pulling out bedrolls, and, as loathe as he was to do so, several picnic cloths that he spread out over the mud. He also dug out a towel, but he only hesitated for a moment before tossing this towards the mares, saying: “Well, we can wipe the mud off with this. The blankets aren't great, but they'll stop the bedrolls from getting too dirty, at least. Does everypony have a sleeping bag?”
“Uh, we'll manage.” Scootaloo said evasively, and Moonbeam grunted as she looked away, while Marina only looked embarrassed. Spike wasn't really surprised by any of these reactions at this point: he just forced himself to smile and keep moving.
At least they took the towel to wipe the mud off their hooves.
Sweetie levitated the other bags towards them with magic so they could dig out the bedrolls and sleeping bags: somehow, Spike wasn't surprised to find out they only had three sleeping bags. Sweetie, to her credit, came up with a decent solution for part of it, at least: by unzipping two sleeping bags, the three could scrunch themselves up and use one as padding and the other as a blanket.
“Crusader sandwich.” Spike was unable to remark, before he glanced over at Marina and Moonbeam. “And well, what about-”
Moonbeam looked moodily at Marina, and Marina gave an awkward laugh before she waved off: “I'll be fine. Moonbeam can have my bag.”
Moonbeam grunted, then she turned away and scowled out into the rain. Spike's eyes flicked between the two of them, but even as he grimaced, he forced himself not to speak: if Marina didn't want to speak up for herself, well, he couldn't really help her.
The ponies argued for a little while and took quite a bit to settle in, but with nothing else to do and the exhaustions and disappointments of the day, it didn't take long for them to fall asleep. Spike sighed as he tightened a loose cloth around himself, wishing he could fall asleep just as easily as he retreated to his little corner and scowled at the ceiling of tarp above.
All he wanted was a day or two to himself. Some time to think and figure out things. But the world kept moving, the ponies kept demanding... well, he guessed that wasn't any different than it was for anyone else, really. Except sometimes it just seemed like at the end of the day, everything the ponies couldn't handle, they dumped on him, which meant he ended up carrying a little bit of the load for everyone else, on top of his own problems.
He couldn't pretend there wasn't pride in that. How could he not be proud of that? But at the same time, he hated it. And more and more he found himself asking if it was really worth all the struggle: how much pleasure could he take in a job well done when the weight of those jobs were starting to break his back?
Okay, he supposed that was a little theatrical. He guessed that he had picked up more than one of the pony's habits, in all the time he had spent around them. He sighed a little, but he couldn't stop himself from giving a small smile: maybe the fact ponies couldn't keep their priorities straight was why he was having so much trouble figuring things out for himself, too.
A cold breeze rattled by, and Spike shivered a little as he looked out into the darkness. There was an almost complete absence of light, thanks to the dark clouds suffusing the sky above: even with his night vision – better by far than a pony's – he could barely see more than a foot ahead of his face.
His senses were further confused by the rain and the wind: if he listened too hard, he could swear it was almost like the world was speaking to him. It was a little frightening: after all, here they were, with little protection from the elements, no fire to warm them or illuminate their world, and no means of escape if anything went wrong.
They were so far away from home, with so little to rely on. Maybe that was exaggeration, but it felt like the truth: at any moment, something could go wrong, something could get worse. Sure, he kept telling himself, things couldn't get any worse than they already had, but he knew that was a lie. The wind and the rain and the rumblings in his own mind told him that things could, and would, get even worse before they got better.
He heard something that didn't match the rhythm of the rain or the wind, and the dragon frowned uneasily as he looked out into the darkness, scanning the imperceptible absence and rain for any sign of what it might have been. He shivered and pulled the blanket a bit tighter around himself, eyes shifting back and forth before he started a little as a voice whispered to him: “What's wrong?”
“Oh, Marina!” Spike wheezed out a sigh of relief, looking anxiously back at the mare: she stepped up beside him, her horn lighting up as she scanned through the darkness, and Spike shook his head before he muttered: “Probably... probably just an animal, that's all. I guess I'm a little on edge. I don't know why. I shouldn't be.”
“We're away from home and well... things haven't gone very well today.” Marina admitted after a moment, giving a small smile to the little dragon. She sat down beside him, her horn still glowing as she added: “I don't sense anything out there. I only feel... simple emotions. Animal emotions, I guess would be the best way to put it.”
Spike nodded a bit, but it didn't reassure him much for some reason. He still couldn't help but stare off into the darkness, wondering aloud: “Well, I guess in that case we just have to worry about a manticore, or a hydra, or an ursa major...”
Marina smiled despite herself, and Spike shook his head with a sigh before he gave a small smile, saying finally: “Sorry. I just... I guess I'm kind of just waiting to see what happens next.”
“Hope for the best, prepare for the worst.” Marina shrugged a bit, and Spike cocked his head towards her. “Just some advice that Octavia's given me, more than once. I try to keep it in mind: I mean, worrying about things will just make it worse, won't it?”
Spike shrugged a bit, looking out into the darkness as he answered: “But isn't it better to expect what you're more likely to get, than to constantly have those hopes smashed? I don't know if I could live like that.”
“I didn't say it was easy.” Marina smiled despite herself before she looked out into the darkness of the night as well, chewing on her lip before she shook her head. “I don't know. But I think if all you're assuming is the worst is going to happen, at some point, you would just... give up, because why bother if it's going to turn out badly anyway?”
“Why bother hoping for more if you know it isn't going to happen, though? I think at some point, that would crush you too. No one can keep smiling forever.” Spike murmured, and the two fell into a silence that was neither comfortable nor uncomfortable: it only was.
Spike eventually glanced up, but Marina nodded to him, acknowledged him, didn't make him make the first move or argue with him, as she admitted: “I don't know what to do. Should I make them go back? Should we try and stay another day? Do I run all the way back to Ponyville to get money so we can buy new supplies somewhere?”
“Even the ponies wouldn't make me do the last thing.” Spike replied mildly, and then he shook his head and said finally: “Let's see how things play out tomorrow, I guess. We have enough supplies still to last at least a few days, right? And once it's dry we can see about fixing the tents at least a little.”
“That sounds like a good idea.” Marina smiled briefly, and then she started after a moment: “Spike, do you think...”
Spike frowned, tilting his head towards the mare, but the Changeling only smiled briefly before she shook her head and murmured: “Nevermind. Spike... try and get some sleep, alright?”
“Alright.” Spike said, nonplussed, before he added after a brief hesitation: “You too. And try not to let the ponies walk all over you, okay?”
Marina blushed a bit, but then she nodded before turning away, carefully making her way back to her own corner under the tarp by the aid of her horn's glow.
Spike watched for a moment, then he shook his head and turned away, grimacing as he tightened the blanket around himself, and shivering a little as he looked out into the darkness and the falling rain.
And out there, somewhere, he thought he heard another shift that broke the rhythm of the storm, and the dragon grimaced as he realized that for a thousand reasons, he wasn't going to be able to sleep tonight.
God, he hoped one day these ponies would realize just how much trouble they could be.