Help Yourself...
____________________________________________________________________
I'm not drunk when I come to the blue again. I don't think you can be drunk when you're dreaming. Definitely not in this kind of dream. I find solid footing almost immediately, and start strolling around without a destination. Where's the smile? I need to talk with her, more than anypony, anydragon, or any-whatever-the-heck-she-is.
"Spike."
"That's me!" I spin around, looking for the smile. But she's hiding from me. There's only blue here.
"Can you see me?"
"Yep. Everywhere. All around me."
The world wavers, and suddenly the blue shifts and shrinks in on itself. Black sludge slides underneath my feet like I'm standing on a screen. Behind me, where all of the blue is rushing away from, something gray and starry is appearing. I turn back to the blue to watch it implode upon itself, and just before I start running to catch it the gray catches me and I slip and fall into another sticky white pool
‡
Spike wasn't an eavesdropper by choice. His ears were sensitive, and his mischievous nature made them prime spying equipment. So, when the colts driving them began taking them to their destination, leaving him with nothing to do but sit in the driver's seat (something that still confused him, since it would be easier if he was just in the carriage with the girls) and busy himself with whatever, he turned his hearing on the conversations of his friends inside the carriage. Each of them talked about how to spend their spare time in Canterlot. He couldn't help but chuckle at each of their descriptions. No matter how much their friendship had changed them, each of the girls still had their defining traits and, in this case, desires.
"Please, Twilight, can we pleasepleasepleasepleaseplease see the Royal Bakery? Pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee-"
"Yes, Pinkie! I've said it was alright before; that decision hasn't changed. Princess Celestia will be happy to show you the Bakery. I, for one, would love to roam the Library again. I've wanted to see the newest extension to it since I first heard about it."
"Gee, what a surprise. Twilight wants to go to the library."
"Well, what do you plan on doing, Rainbow Dash?"
"Uh, are you for real right now? Are you not aware of the Wonderbolts' tour in Canterlot right now? Already pre-ordered a ticket, just gotta pick it up tomorrow."
"Well, it'll be nice to see the gardens again."
"Yep, an' Ah bet there're plenty'a chances ta get some Canterlot grade seeds from the market!"
"Applejack, Canterlot isn't really well-known for it's, uh, produce..."
"Oh...Well, Ah'm sure I'll distract myself somehow! Maybe see that Wonderbolts show with Rainbow Dash! What d'ya say, Dashie?"
"Uh...So, Rarity what are you gonna do with your spare time?"
There's no answer for a long moment.
"Uh, Rarity?"
"Hmm? Oh, Rainbow Dash, I'm sorry, I didn't see you there."
"Rarity, we've been talking in a cramped carriage for the past five minutes."
"Yes, I suppose we have. You wanted to ask me something?"
"Yeah. What are you gonna do with your free time when we get to Canterlot? Check out some fancy landmarks, probably."
"Free time? For moi? Ha! I admire your optimism, Rainbow Dash, but considering I have to create an entire line of dresses in the two days we have before the Expo, I doubt there will be any time for relaxation at all."
"Uh, shouldn't you have made the dresses before we left for Canterlot?"
"I spent the days designing them, Rainbow. Every dress is perfect in every way possible. All I need now is to render them into the physical world. Getting supplies is no problem, but I must dedicate every single minute I have before the Fashion Expo to bringing them off the blueprints and into the world, as they were meant to be!"
"But Rarity, I've seen your drawings, and none of them are on blue paper!"
"...Pinkie, now is hardly the time for joking. I'll be up all night with this workload, and even then I'm not sure if I'll be able to finish them!"
"Rarity, you know Spike will help you anyway he can, and so will we, if you need it."
"Spike? Oh goodness, no! Not this kind of work! And I swore to myself that I would never use my friends as laborers."
"Aw, come on, Rarity, you know you want Spike to help you. 'Help' being the operative word here..."
"What exactly are you insinuating, Pinkie?"
Pinkie told her what she was insinuating, and Spike, still eavesdropping, smiled wildly as he stared off into space, imagining the implications of Pinkie's innuendo.
"Pinkie, I assure you, I would never need use of a riding crop in that situation, and I most certainly would not be in that situation with Spike!"
"Ooh, what's that? Is that a blush I see?"
"Pinkie, I'll ask politely: stop. Now."
Spike heard Pinkie giggling with another one of the mares, most likely Rainbow Dash. Pinkie's suggestion echoed in his head. He felt a kind of itch appear on the inside of his thigh.
"I don't think that Spike would ever consider doing that with me, even if the opportunity would present itself, which I doubt it ever will."
"'Doubt,' huh? So you do want the 'D.'"
"The what?"
"Y'know..." In a whisper, Spike heard: "The Drake."
More laughter. Spike was scratching his thigh absently, red-faced.
"Rainbow Dash, please. Spike is my friend: if we ever did anything like...that, our friendship would never recover, especially for him. He'd be devastated!"
"Then why did you give him a kiss on the cheek when the rest of us just thanked him?"
Silence. Spike leaned in, waiting for her answer. He knew it had been her, he knew it! Every muscle in his body was tense, his head was swimming, and his heart was pounding so loudly in his chest that he must have been heard by the girls and that was why they'd stopped talking. Then, after an eternity of silence, he heard from Rarity:
"So, I really must get on these dresses as soon as we reach Canterlot. There'll be no time for any recreational activities."
Complaints were made, mares yelled, and Spike bit his lip to keep from groaning with disappointment. He turned back to look at the stars, and hoped that they would reach Canterlot all the sooner. His claw moved from his leg to his chest, where a small lump was barely visible underneath his dress shirt. He gripped it tightly, shutting his eyes in a prayer-like stance. Then he went back to staring up at Luna's starry night, half-lost in his own thoughts, half-tuned in to the rest of his friends' conversations.
____________________________________________________________________
"Spike, do you want to talk about it?"
He turned away from the starry night to look at Twilight standing across the balcony.
"Talk about what?"
"Celestia heard about what happened to you today, from that janitor. Are you alright?"
Why should she worry about him? It wasn't her job to, not anymore. He had to be responsible for his own problems. So he put on a smile and shrugged off her concern:
"Yeah, of course I am, Twi! You know me."
Twilight didn't look convinced, so he upped the ante. "Actually, Twi, I do feel bad about something..."
Twilight smiled, glad that he was finally opening up to her. She trotted over to him and sat down beside him, raising her head up to rest it on his shoulder. He had grown so much taller since they'd last stayed in this room.
"Well, I'm hear to listen."
"I feel really bad for the kitchen workers."
She looked up at him, confused. He was grinning widely.
"They never got to know the coolest dragon in Equestria."
His smile was so genuine. It couldn't be fake. He was alright. Twilight shook her head, smiling, and laughed.
"You sound just like Rainbow Dash."
____________________________________________________________________
"-and then the waiter spent the next few minutes apologizing, at which point I had to point out, as politely as I could, that I still needed a table, and by the time I was finally seated it was almost past 2!"
Spike smiled dreamily as Rarity ranted on about how terrible her lunch had been (besides the food, which she said was superb). After he'd left, she'd protected him, yelling at the waiter who'd called him her pet for a good ten minutes before receiving a complimentary meal at the risk off "using her connections to the princess at the restaurant's disadvantage." It was a better gift than any gem she'd ever given him, to know that she had his back like he had hers. Which reminded him...
"Uh, Rarity?"
She turned away from the dress she was making, pausing in the midst of an anecdote about her meeting with a mare in the restaurant's restroom who had been watching when Spike had not been allowed in. Spike leaned back in his seat at the fabric table, where he had been cutting fabrics for Rarity's line of dresses, and scratched the back of his head.
"I wanted to know if, uh..." He felt his lungs shrinking, refusing to allow anymore air into them. He felt the gold chain attached to the sapphire rattle as his hands shook. He felt his vocal cords evaporate into nothing as his mind went blank. He'd practiced so long, so damn long, and now he couldn't even get the one bucking line he had to say right!
"Spike?" Rarity smiled softly at him. "What did you say?" He stared into the azure eyes that had captivated him for so long, and suddenly he realized that he could do this. He forced the panic to leave him, and it worked. His lungs let air back into his system, his hands stopped shaking under the table, and he found he had a voice again. It had been ten years since he'd met her. He couldn't afford to be afraid of her anymore, so he wasn't.
"I asked if you wanted to..." The panic stirred, and he took a deep breath. "I wanted to know if, after the dresses are done and you aren't under a huge pile of stress..."
He dug his claws into his leg. The panic pushed, and the dam was leaking. He shuddered slightly.
"...we could go find a restaurant that does accept dragons."
There was quiet in the room. He realized that his eyes were shut tight. So I wasn't that calm and collected. He cracked open an eye and looked up from his lap (he'd braced himself for an immediate "no," it seemed) to see Rarity smiling uneasily at him. She was red in the face.
"Oh, Spike, I--I'm not sure what to say. This wasn't exactly a good time to ask that kind of question-"
"It's really easy to answer, though. Just 'Yes, Spike' or 'No, Spike.'" He had let the panic out again, and now felt sweat beading on his forehead.
"I know, but this past day has been so exhausting, I don't know if-"
"I love you." WHAT.
"What?!?"
WHAT?!?!? "Um, I meant that, uh..." He trailed off. Rarity didn't look angry, only astonished. He stared at her with hopeful eyes, praying that he didn't look like a complete buffoon. He wished this was a dream, something he could wake up from before it turned into the nightmare he knew was coming...
•
and just like last time I fall right through it, after scenes flash by from a TV show I saw once. I keep falling, further and further from the blue I wish to speak with. I can only scream up at her, which is now shaping itself into something familiar, hoping she hears my question before it's too late.
"What's 'Two Weeks?'"
The blue's answer fries some synapses:
"Your time limit."
____________________________________________________________________
For anypony who ever thinks they can handle more than three mugs of the Apple Family's Home Brand Hard Cider, here's a thorough description of what waking up the next morning feels like:
Ow.
Ow.
Ow!
OW!!!
OwowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowowOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWMYHEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Just a heads up.
Out of bed, to find something cold. Something crinkles, in my hand. Note, put it back in my storage center. My head is on fire, or something much, much worse. Do you know what it feels like to be a dragon, and feel burning pain? Dragon's aren't supposed to feel like they're on fire. It sucks major hayseed.
I can open my eyes just enough to see that the stairs have repaired themselves since last night. It takes me much longer than I'm proud of to realize that the stairs were never messed up: I was. I trudge up them, and head to what I hope is the kitchen (I was so loaded with alcohol last night, I'm sure I've permanently lost some of my brain's more important functions).
I'm right, but there's a catch: just like yesterday, Spike's the only one there. This time, though, he doesn't seem angry at all when he sees me. In fact, he seems almost as happy to see me as he did when he saw Rarity that first day. I feel the regular wave of hatred pass over me, but right now my only concern is getting my claws on an ice pack. I mumble something that sounds nothing like words.
"COME AGAIN, BUDDY?" Sweet Celestia, why is he screaming at me?!?
"OH, SORRY." That's better, kinda. He leads me over to the kitchen table (CLIP CLOP, CLIP CLOP go his hooves, so loud that my head might split open before I can cool it down) and gets me an ice pack. It's the best feeling in the world. He sits opposite me, and as the initial pain of the hangover begins to dull (thanks in no small part to the ice pack), I become faintly aware of the world around me. I become completely aware of the world in the next second, almost more painfully than waking up was, when Spike calls me by my name.
"SO, SPIKE, HOW'D YOU SLEEP? DREAM ABOUT ANY MARES?"
Not the name I've used since I got here. Not "Emerald." My real name. The name I share with this pony, who's also my counterpart in this world.
"Huh?" It's all I can say. My hangover's almost gone, but he still sounds like he's yelling at me. I hoped I don't look too amazed.
"I ASKED HOW YOU SLEPT, SPIKE. JUDGING BY HOW BAD YOU LOOK THIS MORNING, I'D SAY IT WASN'T VERY RESTFUL. BUT THAT MIGHT JUST BE THE HANGOVER."
"Not Spike. Emerald."
"YES, YES, I KNOW. EMERALD, LIKE YOUR SPINES, OR YOUR EYES." He sips a glass of juice. "I'M SURPRISED IT DIDN'T OCCUR TO ME SOONER. I KNEW THERE WAS SOMETHING ODD ABOUT YOU. I JUST DIDN'T KNOW WHAT IT WAS. 'DIDN'T' BEING THE OPERATIVE WORD."
The phrase he ends with triggers something in my head, and I remember my dream, and what happened to me before I got to this world. It was a fashion show we were going to, in Canterlot, the biggest since "the invention of the mare's suit," as Rarity had put it (I remember that, too). I grope for a glass of water, juice, anything to help me clear my my mind more, and Spike levitates a glass into my hand. I have to deal with too many things at once, so I can't focus on the dreams just yet. I chug my drink down, and the pain abates briefly enough for me to form a complete sentence.
"What do you mean, 'didn't?'"
He smiles at me innocently.
"WELL, THAT MEANS THAT I WASN'T AWARE OF YOUR TRUE IDENTITY UNTIL I WAS TOLD LAST NIGHT, DURING THE PARTY...BY YOU."
Oh. I told him. That explains it. Kinda.
"What're you talking about?"
He keeps smiling innocently. "YOU DON'T REMEMBER? WOW, YOU MUST'VE HAD MORE CIDER THAN I THOUGHT." He clears his throat (so bucking loudly) and begins: "YOU WERE VERY DRUNK, WHICH MEANS YOU COULDN'T KEEP SECRETS VERY WELL. YOU FOUND ME IN YOUR ROOM, WHERE I WAS..." He pauses, thinking about what to say next. I butt in, desperate to quiet any suspicions he might have.
"You're Spike. Not me."
"OH, WAKE UP." And I do, when he splashes me in the face with a frigid glass of water. I'm shocked back to life, and I'm especially happy to hear that the volume on things have turned back down to normal.
"Listen, bub, you told me yourself, you're Spike. You're me, in some sort of dragon body."
"I told you that when I was drunk, and you believed me?"
"Oh no, not at all. Not at first. In fact, when you first started mumbling and giggling about the dragon named Spike who lives in a village of ponies, I had full intention of getting Twilight and telling her that we'd let a crazy drake into our house. Then you told me all about this mare called Rarity. And how you fell in love with her the moment you saw her. And how you'd met her because you and your caretaker and boss, Twilight Sparkle, were sent by Princess Celestia to Ponyville to watch over the Summer Sun Celebration. And how you and this Rarity became great friends, and how you even gave her a Fire Ruby that you'd been saving for years when she simply stated that it would look good on a necklace. And how you and her fell through the air after you turned into a horrible monster, and just before you could tell her you loved her, she stopped you, smiling kindly as you plummeted toward death. And how you-"
"You were crying." During his monologue, all of the memories from the night before came bubbling up from deep inside the murky soup of my hungover mind. "I found you crying, in my room, behind a potted plant."
Spike stops mid-sentence, and I know I've hit the nail on the head because the head on which I've hit a nail is turning beet red. He grits his teeth and shouts at me: "That's not important! I know who you really are! Don't you get it? Your cover's blown!"
"You were crying because I stole her from you."
"STOP TALKING!" He's up on the table again, horn glowing green. Emerald flames flare up in his emerald eyes, and he gnashes his teeth at me. In another second, though, he's collected himself, and is sipping his juice again. "I'm not upset about that anymore."
"Why not?"
"Oh, because now I know for certain that I can get Rarity. You've proven that." He gulps down the rest of his juice and slams the glass down dramatically. "The only thing that's keeping us apart is the species barrier. Not only am I capable of getting her to say 'Yes' to a date as a dragon, hell, I'm downright attractive to her! Which brings me to our next order of business."
"Which is?"
"How you got here. I want to know." He leans forward in his seat, and I'm reminded of a Con Mane-style villain revealing his plans. "When you tell me, I'll make you a deal."
"Tell me the deal first." I don't know how I got here. I should tell him that.
He sighs. "Fine." His eyelashes flutter innocently at me. "I want to switch with you."
"What?"
"I'll let you have Rarity, my room, my job, my life, everything. In exchange, I want yours. I want you to send me to Ponyville."