Interim 6.2

Spike? It’s late; why are you still awake? What’s wrong?

The storm too loud?

Spike, they’re only massive electrical discharges in the sky. Why would you be scared of that?

Awww, there there now. Shhhhhh. It’s perfectly safe. It’s a scheduled storm, overseen by the Weather Pegasi, and there are enchanted lightning rods all over to catch any stray bolts.

And if all else fails, Princess Celestia will protect us. It’s nothing but light and noise while we’re tucked away in here. And what’s a little lightning to a big mean dragon like you, huh?

I know, Spike. You’re a very sweet, brave little dragon. And I'll still love you, no matter what kind of dragon you choose to be. Okay?

Good. Feeling any better now?

Think you can sleep?

Hmmmm. Say, back when I was a little filly, there was a song Cadance would sing to me whenever I felt scared to make me feel better. Would you want me to sing for you?

Singing always helps when you’re worried, that’s what Cadance told me. I’m not as good a singer as her, and I don’t remember all the words, so I’ll sing just a little. Is that alright with you?

Okay, I think it goes like this:

First thing I notice is an angelic lullaby filling my ears. Must mean I'm finally dead, but I'd never thought I’d be here of all places (guess I stockpiled enough karma as a kid, I dunno). Mind’s nothing but a black wavy texture, a spotty covering of faded memories past and present. Then I realize my eyelids are in the way, so I open them. Everything's blurry. Not nearly as bright or glorious as I've been told. Pretty drab, quite frankly. All dull browns and greens and... is that a wooden ceiling?

It occurs to me that instead of clouds I’m in a room, and as my eyes focus I make out the different loaded shelves along the walls, the painted faces looking down on me. To my disappointment, rather than it being heaven or hell, I’m in a distinctly gosch zebra domicile (only been in one zebra home, but this looks exactly like it). My thirst is gone, but there’s an emptiness in my gut replacing it. I’m lying on some hard bed, with a coarse but solid blanket covering me. I roll my head right, and immediately I’m struck by the visage of my curly-maned angel, the source of that otherworldly lullaby.

Her singing stops at hearing my half-groan of a question. It’s half a moment before she registers my consciousness, and for her face to cave into a great smile.

“Spike!” She throws her whole body onto mine for a hug, producing some dull cries of agony from my limbs. “You’re awake!”

“Y-yeah, I am.” I bring up my right arm to hold her side in reciprocation. I’ve forgotten how soft she is, even with the dress on. Manage to eye the rings of bandages that take up the entirety of my arm, save for the claw. Sweetie gives an extra-tight snuggle before letting go. Unfortunately, the release on my muscles makes me woozy, so I bring a claw up to hold my head steady.

“No, it’s fine. Just a reminder that I’m alive and kicking... so to speak.” After a quick rub on the temple, I look at the al naturale surroundings briefly before asking, “Where am I? Did you patch me up?”

She hesitates a moment. “I didn’t do that much. She did most of it.” Her head tilts over to the center of the room, and looking there I see, standing by a large bubbling pot, the familiar stripes and mohawk of my former trainer in the mystical arts: Zecora. At her mentioning, she looks at me directly.

“It is good to see you awake. I was starting to wonder how much longer it would take.”

And of course her rhyme is in top form. The rest of her appears the same as well. Still lean of build, still wearing those thick gold rings. Doesn’t even appear to have aged a day since I last saw her... four years ago.

“You’re back? Since when?” I ask while getting into a sitting position. Get a good look at the bandages on my other arm and chest in the process.

“There appeared signs of great trials this day, and so I made my return without further delay. Seems those signs were true, considering how I found you.”

Zebra mystics for ya: just chalk it up to sixth sense or something. Taking in another look of the room, I see it’s furnished exactly as I last remembered (as best as I can remember with this haze), even down to the same leaning books and pottery arrangement. When Zecora upped and vanished, everything that wasn’t bolted down (which was everything) had been taken, gone overnight. No one’s been to check on the place ever since. Some kind of unspoken quarantine, minus the quarantine. No surprise she’d move right back in at any time without anyone noticing (Ponyville is quite experienced in the field of ignoring zebras, after all).

But this isn’t the time or place to ponder that mystery. I still have my own scales to worry about.

“Zecora found you six, maybe seven hours ago washed up by a stream, half-drowned,” Sweetie answers. “When she brought me here, you were already bandaged and asleep.” Explains the lack of thirst. But hold on...

“I was on my way home when she came to me, said it was urgent and that it was about you.” I look to our zebra host.

“Why did you bring her here, Zecora?” There’s a grave pause before I get a reply.

“A troubling state of affairs you have landed yourself into. Now, more than ever, the support of friends can help see you through.”

“It was shocking when I saw you lying there,” Sweetie butts in, halting my pondering. “Almost entirely covered in bandages, but Zecora says you’ll make a full recovery from the burns. I tried to help a little, but all I did was help change the bandages and sing to you a little. Didn’t know if you got to hear any of that.” That modest tone of sincerity and care in her voice. I feel rotten hearing that.

“Close to your bedside she stayed near. You are quite fortunate to have a loved one so dear,” Zecora quips. There was a time when I’d ask how she’d know, but Sweetie has this passive ability of making our relationship sickeningly obvious. Thinking that makes me feel more rotten about myself. There isn’t time to mull over these negativities as Sweetie leans down and gives me a serious, trembling look.

The question calls forth recollections that up to now have been floating in my skull like half-dissolved sugar lumps. I recall the adrenaline, the running, the intense heat, the explosion... and its cause. A long, painful silence as it all sinks in again. I keep my gaze away from hers.

“...Yeah. I killed her.” Sweetie falls back in a stark sitting position, her face crestfallen.

“You... you actually killed her?” So low it could barely be heard, fear growing with each word.

“It was self-defense. She left me no choice.” That response sounded weak, practically pleading. Maybe a side-effect of my lingering fatigue, or my mind still being scrambled from my walk in the woods. Whatever the cause, Sweetie just looks down at her dress with a look of growing helplessness. It’s become full bloom when she looks at me again.

“It was becoming bad in town before I left. First we heard the explosion, and then we saw the smoke coming from Canterlot. Everypony started to panic, and Twilight tried calming them down, but when the Royal Guards came with the news, it only got worse. They said you were still alive and wanted to have soldiers brought in to protect her. We were told to stay in our houses afterward, and that got everypony complaining, getting themselves more worried. I haven’t been back in hours, but Zecora says there’s a magical barrier over the town now. Nopony can go in or out. I can only imagine how everypony is feeling about that. Mom and dad must be worried sick”

No kidding (then why’d you have to come here, stupid girl?). But it sounds like Twilight has gone into protector mode. When in doubt, use magic.

“And, that’s not all,” Sweetie continues more quietly. “It’s about nine o’clock, but the sun is still setting. I don’t think it’s moved in two hours.”

Yeah, every right to be worried there. Twilight’s the only princess, the only one capable of moving both sun and moon. The sun was still at afternoon height when I was last awake, so for it to not be moving now... means Twi has something on her mind. And I’m pretty sure what that something is.

Sweetie softly plants her hooves on my shoulders, lining her face squarely with mine. “Spike, they’ll be looking for you. There are probably soldiers patrolling outside town. You need to get away from here. Far far away from Ponyville!”

“They might execute you on the spot!” Why are you caring about me (what worth am I)? “What you did... I don’t think they’ll let you explain yourself. Some of those guards looked very upset, and so is most of the town. I don’t want anything to happen to you. Just get over to the next city, head to Appleloosa, someplace west or anywhere but here.”

“Sweetie Belle, are you listening to yourself? Where am I supposed to go in Equestria? If they think I’m alive, they’ll look for me everywhere.” Maybe not everywhere just yet, but soon. Why can’t you see that?

“Then-then you can have Zecora help you!” comes the flustered response. Her legs shaking against my shoulders. Scared, desperate. She snaps her attention to the zebra in the room. “You could help him, right Zecora? Get him out of the country?”

“Escape I can provide, Spike, if you so choose. But there lingers the question: what do you stand to lose?”

Cryptic, but still right down to the point. Staying this close to town, or pretty much anywhere in Equestria, is a bad idea right now. I’d imagine you wouldn’t last very long after killing a ruling alicorn seemingly unprovoked. Any assassin who values their hide would skip town or make for the border and be done with it. But that doesn’t sit with me. Not on the grounds of it being cowardly, or a definite affirmation of my guilt, but that there’s... more going on here.

Fact of the matter is, I should’ve been incinerated in that blast. But to be blown miles away from danger, relatively in one piece? And it was a miracle I didn’t drown during my dip. The devil’s luck, you could say, but there may be considerable truth to that phrase. The blanks in my memory following the blast have been filling in these past couple of minutes. Images of uncertainty, despair, deceit... Discord. All vague like a fading dream, but the gist of it is clear. Specifically, that in all this madness, there’s to be a resolution.

“I can’t go. Not yet,” came my answer. Sweetie, understandably, doesn’t find that agreeable.

“There’s something I need to take care of first. I want to clear some things up, particularly with Twilight. Maybe cool things down before they get messier.”

“B-but you’ll be killed!” Hooves back on my shoulders. Still concerned for my ass. That rotten feeling again, which I’m fairly certain is guilt. I bring up a claw to her cheek.

“Hey, you know me,” I say softly, with an ounce of confidence. “I’ve been through a lot. I’ll be able to take care of myself. And don’t forget, me and Twilight go way back.”

“She’ll listen to me, so don’t worry. You can relax; I’ve got this handled.” I pat her on the shoulder, and that signals her to go back down on her rump, looking a little less dubious but still worried.

“Okay...” she says somewhat unconvincingly, though the next words are unflappably genuine. “I’ll believe in you.” Don’t see why you should. Just another lie to add to the list, but one that might be truly necessary. Our talk gets interrupted when a steaming clay bowl is placed on my blanket-covered lap. I look over to see my striped caregiver backing away with a look unconcerned with our drama.

“Regain your strength if that is your choice, but take your time. You’d be wise in heeding this rhyme.”

Thanks a bunch, Zecora, I keep myself from blurting out. I look down at the contents of the bowl, the various discolored chunks floating around an otherwise green muck that might be considered “stew”, as well as the end of the stone spoon sticking out from it. The sound of clopping hooves brings my attention back to Zecora, who has made it to the door of her hut.

“I’ll leave you two to talk together. An emotional respite, before the storm you’re about to weather.”

That cheery foreboding said, she steps out. I look back down to my bowl, and after a moment I grab the spoon and raise up a mouthful. I let it slosh around my cheeks, reluctantly biting at the chunky bits to delay the inevitable swallow. Zecora’s cooking is more of an herbal gruel, packed with nutrients and low on the calories (though I’d be hard-pressed to say what those nutrients were). An all-natural energy booster, regularly given to me while I was under her tutelage. The taste and texture is exactly as I remembered, which unfortunately is a memory I wouldn’t mind forgetting entirely.

“Oh, before I forget.” Her horn lights up. “Here.” From the ruffles of her dress, two familiar black discs float over to me. I take the shades with my free claw and look them over, thankful for a break from my dinner.

“I found it sticking out of the ground near the school,” she continues. “They were your style, so I thought you might’ve dropped it. Although that’s never happened before as far as I can tell.”

Not bent in the slightest, and still no scratches. If anything they got polished. Gods be damned, Twi’s enchantments are fiercer than the sun. Sweetie continues to talk as I turn them over between my claws.

“Spike... I’m sorry for sounding so doubtful. I know how determined you can get about things, which is why you always do such a good job. And Twilight will surely listen to you if you go to her directly, especially after all you’ve done for her. I just can’t help worrying, you know? I don’t want you to get hurt more than you already have, given what’s happened. I know your mind is made up: I’ve been with you long enough to tell. But it’s only natural for a filly to worry about her coltfriend, especially when she cares a lot for him. And, I know we don’t really say it much, but you’re very important to me, because of how much I love you—”

Both arms go down. It was abrupt, harsh, and her confused reaction is totally justified. But my brain’s had more time to clear up, raising another major topic “discussed” during my mindtrip. The cause of my guilt, and something that seriously needed venting. I feel this is my only chance, so I’m laying it on the table. Or bed, rather.

“For your sake, you’re better off forgetting me and finding somepony more fit for you.”

“W-why would you say that? Why would you bring up something so ridiculous now of all times?” Already she’s trying to wave it off, get back to level footing. From her look and shaky smile I see she’s ready to latch onto whatever blame she can take. Go for broke before she has the chance.

“It’s because I’m trouble, Sweetie, and not for the obvious reasons. I’ll be frank: I’m no good for you. I’m inconsiderate toward your feelings most of the time, I keep you at arms length emotionally when we’re together like a dick, degrade you when we’re intimate, and I take advantage of your trust. You give me love but I go out getting love from others. I’ve told you about my spa trips, right? And truthfully,” Take a breath for the whammy. “I only started going out with you so that, in some twisted way, I could get closer to your sister. Part of the reason I’m still with you is because you still resemble her somewhat, and the rest is that you’re someone I can go to for a quickie and some snacks.” The smile is gone, replaced by silence and a blank look. “The bottom line is, I’m an asshole unfit for anyone, who takes and takes without a hint of gratitude. Just like a proper dragon...”

There, it’s said. Now for the broken spirit, the tears, the words of hurt and hate and disgust and the storming out. Nothing but the most deserving in cold, desolate loneliness for me. Instead, what I get is a soft touch of a hoof on my cheek and a look of consoling comfort.

“Spike, I know you still have feelings for Rarity, and that’s okay. The two of you have a history, and I know I can never be as beautiful as her. But if I can resemble her just a little, then at least I can make you happy in some small way.” The hell?!

“That is NOT okay!” I smack her leg away. “Are you really that stupid; didn’t you hear anything I said? Why are you so damn accepting? So deadset on overlooking or outright defending everything that makes me a self-centered ass? Huh?!”

“Why?” That barely audible tone of innocence and sincerity when she said it. Fresh insanity thrown on the bat shit pile!

“Which is what? Please elaborate!” Now she’s shuffling around for an answer. This is ridiculous. What will it take to get it into your head, Sweetie? You don’t need this!

“I, I know how you’re not very open with your feelings, but that’s understandable considering what you... do. In fact, that’s sort of what got me to ask you out in the first place. Seeing you coming back from assignments, all exhausted, alone, with no one to talk to or show you appreciation for what you go through. Everypony needs that bit of warmth and comfort in their lives, and so I thought I’d give it to you.”

“No No that’s... not entirely it.” Voice full of fluster and face scrunching up trying to be serious, hints of some deep childlike fear. Still doesn’t take her eyes off me. “I didn’t come to you just because you needed somepony close. The thing is... when you and Twilight first moved here, Ponyville suddenly became exciting. All kinds of weird and awesome things started happening, and you were usually next to the center of it all. I’ve seen you wait on Rarity selflessly... for questionable reasons, I suppose. But you also helped others, showed bravery against things ten times your size long before you got that sword, and you certainly helped me and Apple Bloom and Scootaloo a few times over (and helped back just as much).

“Then when Twilight became a princess and made you her Vanguard, you became taller and stronger and braver. But the way I saw it, your outside was becoming what you always were on the inside. It’s something I truly admire, and found attractive, and it’s a shame more ponies don’t see that. Sounds naive, yeah, but that’s how I feel about you. And besides, what girl wouldn’t want to hook up with a tough guy in shades?”

How she just smiles like that, keen on making me feel better about myself. A far cry from being the most cautious member of the Crusaders. Either there is meddling from a deranged god, or she has always been the rebel that’s waited for marehood to let it loose.

“But that’s only attraction. It’s far too early to commit yourself to love, especially since you don’t know what actual love is. You’re too young, and I’m too old for you.”

“...You know what I mean.” This is seriously messing with the gravitas of the moment. The way she just wants to perk things up and make light of it all, so damn frustrating. Now she leans back toward me, hesitates in bringing her hoof up, but when I don’t budge she places it back on my shoulder, closer to my cheek.

“Spike... I can’t pretend to know what you’ve faced. And I probably won’t be able to fully understand the things you think about all the time. But because you decided to tell me those things, hurtful as they were, it shows that there’s a part of you that cares enough about me to keep me from getting hurt even further. And that’s just the thing the Spike from my Crusading days would do.” A closing wink (gah).

At this point, the only way I can get her to listen is to shake her a bit and toss her around the room, but my anger has subsided and I’m feeling too well-rested. So annoying when you have the most accommodating fillyfriend around when you try telling her how much a bastard you really are. Rather than continue this farce of a discussion, I pick up the neglected bowl and start spooning in heaps of the cold “broth”. I’m declaring this a draw.

“You’re crazy, just like your sister,” I mutter through mouthfuls of gruel.

I pause everything to think that over, only to shake it off with a grumble before it develops any further. Can never have a plain, melancholic meal whenever you’re around, can I?

The rest of my supper goes by in silence, with Sweetie keeping to herself and making the occasional darting, smiling glance. Zecora returns a few minutes after I finish my serving, and she wastes no time in pouring me another. With seconds done, I feel ready to stand. Limbs are responsive though a tad stiff, probably from lying down for so long. The mystic’s brew does the job in getting rid of my remaining fatigue.

I’m a mess of bandages, so I ask if there’s anything I could wear. Turns out yes, as Zecora happens to have what I can best describe as a tribal shirt (or retiree wear). One of those hemp affairs with a diamond pattern down the middle. It’s a bit small and scratchy, but the latter could be due to all the bandages. Once suited up, it’s high time to leave. I instruct Sweetie to stay put at Zecora’s until things settle down. She asks how she’ll know, and I tell her she’ll know it when it happens. She accepts without another word. A hug, a kiss for luck, a verbal reminder of her love, and I give a pat of assurance on her shoulder in response. Affectionate as ever (ya putz).

Standing outside the hut, I see evening light through the openings in the leaves, giving everything an orange tinge. Zecora is by the door, and the two of us stand in silence, staring at the woods ahead.

“The path from here to town is clear, so drawing the attention of soldiers you need not fear,” she speaks.

“Thanks for the recon. Doesn’t say what there’ll be when I get into town. If I can, that is.” She nods.

“Before you go, there is one other item I wish to bestow.” She reaches over, and when she turns back there’s a familiar length of steel with a hilt held in her mouth. I take it from her and look it over. Still clean, still sharp. “It washed up next to you on the bank. I believe now is the time to find some higher being to thank.”

Lucky lucky me. “A shame there wasn’t time for us to catch up. Would’ve been nice to know how you’ve been doing the past couple of years, how the folks are doin’ and such. Maybe find out why you left in such a hurry.” A heavy silence from her, then,

“This land of ponies was beset by darkness, thick as night. It was only today that I finally saw the prospect for light.”

I chuckle at that. “Hell of a day for change, that’s for sure. Mystical or misguided, glad you have a positive outlook on this.” I scratch my chin. “Hmm, I had thought you’d be asking if I was using your training properly.”

“There’s no doubt your dragon fire has served you well. Use for destruction most grand, that I can also tell. But in my visions, I beheld the shadow of the land set ablaze. As to the fire that causes it, or who brings it, you might find at the end of this long and winding maze.”

“Kinda pushing it with the sentence length there, Zecora.” It occurs to me to reach into the recesses of my shirt and pull out my shades, left clinging to some loose weaves up to now. I take a moment to fully observe them, view their meaning in regards to my own existence, how they represent my position in society and life itself, and as a prompt to induce my own heavy silence. “You look after Sweetie. Whatever happens, see that she gets home safe when the dust clears.”

A more solemn nod from her. “You have my word, good friend. I shall see her protected to the end.”

What end exactly remains to be seen, I think as I put my shades back on. “Well, if fortune willing, I’ll talk to you later. And in case it’s not... I’ll say thanks. You were a great teacher.” She smiles, and I smile back before I begin my walk into the forest.

For the first time in years, I go forward without assignment. Moving ahead by my own volition, for my own reasons. Unable to say if this is the right way to go, or if I’ll make more trouble for everyone in the end. Can’t tell if the worse is behind me, or there’s still more to come. If leaving it all behind is the better option.

Brain is still fuzzy; still unsure if there was a message or my head going wonky. But I know something is telling me to at least get to her. Get back to Twilight. For what exactly... I don’t entirely have my claw put on it. I just know that it’ll come together once I get there.

Death by Dragon

by Compendium of Steve

Interim 6.2