//------------------------------// // Realistic Expectations // Story: Simple Dreams // by BlazzingInferno //------------------------------// The castle’s floor was just as cold and hard as Spike remembered. He lay sprawled there while the lingering sense of weightlessness passed and his dreamy elation turned back into plain old dread. For a second there he’d been the victorious hero, the day freshly saved and the fair damsel rescued. For a second Rarity not only cared about their friendship but shared his lingering hope for more than that, for romantic walks through busy city streets, candlelit dinners for two, and declaring their love from the rooftops. For a second things were perfect. Then he’d woken up. Singed papers and black ash fluttered down from above, the after-effects of his violent return. All his dreams really had gone up in flames, along with a bunch of the library’s periodicals. Twilight glided over to him with a sheet of parchment and quill in her magic grasp. “Wow, that’s twice as long as I was gone! So, what did you see? What was different? Was there any evidence of—” Spike pushed himself up to a sitting position and shook his head. “It didn’t work.” “What? If the spell did nothing then where’ve you been all day? The sun set an hour ago!” He shrugged. “It’s like I was having an amazing dream that I wanted to stay in forever. There’s no way that was an ‘alternate probability’ or whatever. There’s no chance any of that stuff could’ve happened. Not to me.” Twilight’s wingbeats slowed. Without a word she set down beside him, her notes and quill forgotten, and pulled him into a hug. Spike held onto her, but didn’t cry. The hurt from this morning wasn’t as fresh anymore, even though the pain of what he’d just lived and lost would probably hit him hard any second. For now he just felt tired and empty, like he really had spent the day hauling boxes and hawking dresses. “It’s all over.” “It’s not,” she whispered. “I don’t know what you saw in there, but you need to go talk to Rarity like you promised you would. I’m not letting one of our friendships go without a fight, and neither should you.” “Do I have to tonight? She might not even be home yet, and if she is she’s probably busy unpacking.” “Would you rather re-shelve the whole library tonight? One of these tasks can probably wait for tomorrow.” Rolling his eyes, Spike got to his feet. “Fine, I’m going. Don’t wait up; if she’s not home I’ll just sleep on her doorstep or something.” Twilight patted him on the back with her wing. “Good. Go out there and fight for your friendship. I’ve got your back if you need support.” That got a grin out of him, and then a full-on smile as he imagined the legion of brides swarming her, demanding she officiate their weddings. “Thanks, Twilight.” She followed alongside him and pushed open the front door. “You’ve got this, Spike.” --- The walk from castle to boutique had never felt so short and yet so long. The two were close enough together to practically make Rarity his next door neighbor, but each footstep felt like a marathon. He’d won an amazing battle today. If only somebody besides him had seen it. If only it had been real. Instead he trudged his way down the dark, empty street, towards Rarity’s lightless shop. In another twenty feet he could knock on the door and confirm the obvious: she wasn’t home. If she was there would be a light on in an upstairs window as she finished getting ready for bed and perhaps did a little more reading about the dashing, daring kinds of heroes that he could only be in his dreams. Still, Twilight was right. He needed to fight, if only for their friendship. He’d lived all these years as just her friend, and he could keep doing that. Friendship was wonderful. Just this morning he’d reminded himself that friendship was enough. Getting a taste of what more than friendship could be like, in a dream or otherwise, was a fun distraction and nothing more. “Okay,” he said to himself, “knock, call her name a couple times… write her an apology note? Definitely don’t get her flowers. I wish I’d brought some paper with me.” “Spike?” The voice gave the silhouette’s identity away. Spike’s legs turned to lead. He stood there, trying to smile and wave through the darkness. “Hi, Rarity. Did you, uh… just get back?” The shadow slowly walked closer and soon Spike realized she had her extra-large saddlebags on, the kind that could carry a week’s worth of provisions for a normal pony, or two fasionable event’s worth in Rarity’s case. “The train was late, I’m sorry to say. Why are you out here in the dark?” He took a deep breath. Here came the fight. “I was actually on my way to knock on your door, but… do you want some help with your bags?” A second of silence passed, a second full of exploding panic that he was in for a repeat of this morning. Instead Rarity’s horn sputtered to life, undid the straps, and deposited the enormous saddlebags on the ground. By the light of her magic he could see the half-circles under her eyes and the limp state of her mane. “Every conceivable thing has gone wrong today, starting with my bothering to get out of bed.” She trotted on toward her door, much faster now that she didn’t have any bags to carry. Spike did his best to keep up, his feet and back aching from his day of imaginary labor. By the time he reached the doorstep, the interior lights were on and water was gushing into the kettle in the kitchen. “Where do you want your bags?” “Anywhere, darling. Set them on fire for all I care, but after that would you be so kind as to heat up this water?” The saddlebags made an impressive thump as they hit the floor. Seconds later Spike was in the kitchen, breathing a low flame under the kettle on the stove while Rarity rummaged through a nearby cupboard. “Camomile tea?” He nodded just as the kettle started to whistle. “Thanks.” Rarity took over from there, setting out an extraordinarily basic tea service by her standards. Instead of a silver serving tray with china cups and a plate of miniature sandwiches, two mugs sat on the kitchen table alongside a bag of sugar, a bottle of milk, and two spoons. She slumped into a chair, rested her chin on her forelegs, and stirred her steeping tea with magic. “What compelled you to visit me so late, darling? I certainly hope you weren’t waiting around just to offer to carry my things.” Spike shook his head as he pulled out a second chair and joined her at the table. “After this morning I… Twilight created a fancy new spell, I helped her try it out, the usual.” “Yes, this morning.” He held back a cringe, but she didn’t smile, frown, or seem to show any emotion at all. “That’s kind of why I’m here. I—” “Please don’t apologize. The fault is all mine. If you’re guilty of anything it’s putting up with too much of my abuse.” Spike’s aching back agreed with her. Still he tried to look sympathetic while he stirred his tea. “What about your day?” She threw a foreleg over her eyes. “Ugh, where to begin! Thanks to a scheduling mix-up I found myself running a booth at a bridal exposition, and after that ordeal I can confidently say that I’ll happily get married under the Ponyville bridge wearing a paper bag. So long as it’s a tastefully decorated paper bag, mind you.” He pulled his mug closer, dropped in the usual ten spoonfuls of sugar, and gave it a stir. “Funny, the way Twilight’s spell worked… It’s too complicated to explain. I only went along with it because… I know you said I don’t need to apologize for anything, but this morning—” The whole table shook as she tensed. “Spike, instead of rehashing the past—” “I need to say this. I’ve been so worried that our friendship is over because I did something, or didn’t do something, or that dumb flower was cursed, or who knows what else. Then Twilight’s spell happened and I got a chance to see things a little differently, and—” he took a long swig of almost-boiling tea, he’d let it cool down too much “—I get that I need to accept how things are between us, who you are, and who I am. I’m not some big hero, or even a big dragon. But I still want to be your friend, Rarity. I always want to be your friend.” Rarity rose up to a normal sitting position, sighed, and gave him the smallest of smiles. “You will always be my friend, Spikey. Nothing shall ever change that. As for you being a hero—” “That one thing in the Crystal Empire so doesn’t count.” She giggled and added some milk to her tea. “What I was going to say is what’s gotten you thinking that being a hero is so important, and that you somehow don’t qualify for the title? I seem to remember you helping to save everything from Princess Celestia to Pinkie’s surprise birthday party.” “You and the others did most of that. I helped sometimes, but that’s all I ever do; I help the rest of you be amazing. We don’t have to get into that though, like I said I feel better about myself now.” He clasped his mug in both hands, breathing in the steam and the scent of camomile. This was great, being so open and frank. Just being himself, just being Spike, had never felt better. Maybe he’d have to start drinking tea more often. Rarity glanced behind her at the kitchen’s one window and unlatched it. A chilly night’s breeze dampened the tea’s cozy feeling, but Spike didn’t question it. Maybe this was a subtle hint that he needed to leave so she could go to bed. She returned her gaze to him and let out a deep breath, wafting her cup’s steam toward him. “Let me start over, where I said that today has been a disaster from the very start. To be more accurate, today went rapidly downhill the moment I made a certain decision. I said you did nothing wrong and I stand by that statement: you acted like yourself, and today of all days I just wasn’t ready for it. So in the spirit of starting over—” She reached across the table and touched her hoof to his hand. “I know you think of me as some sort of heroic embodiment of perfection, Spikey, and I think you’d be hard-pressed to find a mare that doesn’t want to be thought of that way from time to time. I’ve achieved a great many things, and so to some I may be only a fashionista, a businesspony, a hero even, but to you—” she pressed his hand harder “—I’m also the pony next door.” Something glowing blue floated through the open window. A single purple flower, plucked from the garden outside, sailed across the room and landed next to Spike’s mug. He couldn’t speak, and even if he could didn’t know what to say, much less what to think. All he could do was stare at the simple flower in front of him and listen to the sound of her voice. “Spike, this morning I had the wild idea to say something during our gem hunting trip, something unexpected, bold, and terrifying, as I came to realize. When the moment came, I couldn’t, not to you, not to the steadfast friend who’s been with me through so much, who’s seen the very best and worst of me but still offers to carry my bags at the drop of a hat. For that and for the hurt I caused I am so sorry. That one moment has haunted me all day. I couldn’t escape it, no matter what other horrors today threw at me. For you I wanted to do something so grand, so special—” His left hand closed around her hoof while his right stood the flower up in his half-empty mug. “This is something special. I know you’re tired, and it’s late, and we’ve both had a long day, so… would you like a hoof massage? I’m probably not any good at it, and I should go soon since there’s so much work to do tomorrow, but… Would you?” Rarity blushed deep red, but didn’t pull her hoof away. “I couldn’t dream of anything better.”