//------------------------------//
// Snip by Snip 
// Story: Snip by Snip 
// by ThunderChaserCreate 
//------------------------------//

	Rarity plodded through the muck, fresh mud sucking at her hooves. She was distressed by the terrible state of her coat and mane, but it would help to disguise her. She was grave robbing, after all.
The top of a musty-tasting sack was in her mouth, the contents of which made not a peep as she pulled it over a sharp rock. The bag split, and a spray of rather red dirt fell from the small slice. The mare suppressed a whimper, trying to hold down her dinner as she continued to drag the sack through the deserted streets of Ponyville. 
The sky was appropriately dark, matching the malevolent scheme Rarity was attempting to get away with. Except, it wasn't really all that bad, what she wanted to do. All she wanted was to get her very special somepony back in her arms where he belonged.
Granted, Spike wasn't pony, but she still had very strong feelings for him, and wasn't afraid to call these feelings love.
Not afraid, that is, except in front of... everypony.
Yes, Rarity had admitted that she loved Spike as more than a friend, but only to Spike. And then, that terrible accident, all that fire and smoke and ash... the memory still burned bright in Rarity's mind, and silent tear slipped down her white cheek as she took the last few steps up to the door of her shop.
The door creaked open, revealing a dimly lit and, while somewhat disorganized, sterile room. Rarity swung the sack in front of her, and it landed with a sickening thump on the hard floor.
Rarity winced a bit at this sound, hoping that she hadn't accidentally damaged the remains in some way. They were already very badly burned, and nearly unrecognizable as the small dragon that she had loved so dearly.
Holding her breath, the unicorn opened the petrichoric bag and shook the ashen contents onto the floor as gently as she could.
Accompanied by a few large crumbles of wet dirt, the body of the undersized dragon flailed onto the floor, then laid disturbingly motionless before her.
The mare sniffed a bit, but reminded her self to keep the corpse as clean as possible. She carefully scooped up the limp body, right arm hanging off by little more than a thread.
Funny, Rarity thought to herself, since that's what I'm planning to use.
She rolled the body onto the low table she so often used as Sweetie Bell's private play area, the bones and muscles contorting in ways they were never meant to. 
Rarity used her magic to light a small gas lamp over his head, then turned to her pile of instruments.
An array of sharp tools were laid out on a small trolley: sewing needles ranging from applique sized, to the curved doll needle. She also had several seam rippers, a few fabric scissors, an old iron, and a variety of heavy duty threads.
The jewel-colored spools were lined up before her, and perfectly matched the beautiful shining scales the dragon once had. She had dug the colors from her memory and, to her knowledge, she had the best eye for colors in all of Ponyville. 
Rarity neatened up the body, moving the remains into a nearly symmetrical position. Here or there, a scale was missing, which is what allowed the normally heat-proof dragon to get burned at all. The real mystery was the peeling quality of some of the scales, which she knew no amount of heat could cause.
No matter. She didn't want to put anything before the welfare of her friend, and resolved to reflect on it later.
Rarity's horn glowed with a sapphire light, and the largest doll needle was picked up and threaded deftly. The cotton thread was a bright purple that would hopefully match his scales as soon as they gained their color once more.
The mare didn't even think of the word 'if.' Her love was too strong, too great, that if this didn't work, surely she would die. Her heart ached so badly for the feeling of his cold scales against her warm chest. She wanted to hear his heart beating fast as he leaned into her, wanted to hear his tiny voice call her name...
Rarity pushed such thoughts from her mind. This task required precision, not to mention how horribly unladylike it was for such thoughts to cross her mind.
She took a deep breath, trying to stop her her hooves from shaking and her magic from wavering. The doll needle hovered above Spike's left shoulder, preparing to steady the torn ligament and hopefully repair some of the skin, as well.
The unicorn squinted her eyes shut and plunged the needle through the skin between scales. Nothing happened. There was no blood, no sound, no consequences.
Rarity grinned proudly, realizing that she was capable of doing this, and maybe even completing the project tonight. She pulled on the needle, weaving it through the cracked scales and skin, and took a neat stitch. She quickly tied the thread in place, and went about finishing the shoulder.
By the time she had knotted off on the shoulder, the moon was high in the sky above the boutique, and the stars practically lit her work on their own.
A bead of sweat or two ran down the mare's forehead, stinging her eyes, but she continued. She had to finish this tonight, or Twilight and the others might find out.
Rain pattered rhythmically on the metal canopy which hung over the door.
Stitch by stitch... Rarity told herself, just one stitch at a time. You'll get through the night, Rarity. I know you will.\
She was stitching up his eyelid when the first beams of sunlight started to crawl towards her, almost crawling over the window sill and slithering across the floor.
"Done!" She congratulated herself, putting the tools aside and lifting Spike to eye level. He was still limp like a doll, but he looked much better: closer to the real him.
Rarity knew there was one more thing she had to do. It might have seemed foalish, but it was important. She thought that, maybe, through the magic of love that Princess Cadence had once taught everypony, Spike would be revived.
She leaned forward, sighed deeply, and gave him the biggest and most passionate kiss she could muster. She pulled away, her eyelids fluttering open, and waited for Spike to wake up. But nothing happened.
Rarity tried twice more, but Spike still stayed limp resting on her hooves. The mare sobbed once, short and loud, and gave up.

~~~~~

The stars were completely gone when Rarity pulled her sack outside. She dug a small, unmarked grave and put the bag inside, then buried it. No need for any elegant prose in this case, it was as simple as that. She tried to push the thoughts of last night out of her mind, as the voices of the Cutie Mark Crusaders reached her, demanding some type of nourishment from the over-worked mare.
Rarity let her hoof rest on the spot where she had buried her dear friend, but held back the tears for the sake of the young fillies. She pulled away from the patch of dirt reluctantly, sighed loudly, and headed back inside inside to clean up a bit of the mess still left on the floor.
It's a shame she left so soon, for if she had remained a few moments more, she might have heard the struggling breaths of a small set of dragon lungs, as an impossible being died for a second time.