The bar smelled of cheap booze and cigarette smoke on this Saturday evening, though that was no different then normal in this hole in the wall pub. The chatter was smothered with the sorrowful tune of a piano. 9 o'clock, the usual patrons shuffle inside, allowing the door to close behind them with a click. Spike knew them each by name. There was an old stallion beside him making love with his drink, his eyes glassy, taking a stroll down memory lane. It wasn't long before he turned to Spike. The dragon had grown in the passed few years, now the size of a full grown stallion.
“Son, can play me a memory?” It was the usual request, a sad song for a sad old war horse. A few bits dropped into his jar and he allowed his claws to dance along the keys. The stallion gave a sorrowful smile as he allowed the music to take him.
The bartender is a friend of Spikes, and even offers him drinks for free. He loves to joke, and is quick to give a helping hoof, but Spike knows there's somewhere else he'd rather be then here.
“Spike, this is just killing me.” The bartender spoke, his usual smile vanishing, and in its place a frown that spoke of broken dreams. “I'm sure I could make it big if I could just get out of this place.” Spike knew, for certain, he could, but he was in so deep with his bar now that he couldn't get out of the business as easily as he thought.
Derpy was mailmare with a heart of gold, but after her husband left her, she never went looking for another. The hurt was still there, in her unfocused eyes as she nursed her drink. Spike assumed that Dinky was at her babysitter's while her mother drowned her troubles. She's talking to Caramel, who was still in the royal guard and probably would be all his life. They'd both go home at the end of the night, lonely and hurting, but at least the alcohol would numb their pain for a time.
The bell above the door jingles as the door opens, just in time for Spike to finish the song. He earns no applause, he wasn't expecting any, everypony's eyes turned to look at the new-comer, then returned to their drinks. She looked especially put out, her long, raven mane was askew, her face tear-stained and her eyes bloodshot red.
She approached the bar, her eyes downcast, obviously consumed by her own thoughts. Spike, however, couldn't take his eyes off of her. He'd seen so many mares and stallions come in looking like that, and every time it tugged at his heart strings. He started to play again, this time throwing his heart into it. Every time somepony new came to the bar, they had one free song he would play for them.
Everypony in the bar let the music and drink drown their troubles for the time being.
Spike counted the bits in the jar, but just from looking at it he knew it wasn't much. He sighed in frustration. Last call had sounded not that long ago, and everypony had filtered out of the bar, save the employees and a certain gray mare. She approached him slowly, eyes uncertain. He looked up to find her standing by his piano, looking like she wanted to flee.
“If you want another song, you're gonna have to come back tomorrow.” He said gruffly, she simply flinched. He could tell she was in a fragile state, and he wasn't making it better by being rude. He adjusted his tone and tried again, apologizing as he did. “Sorry, my troubles aren't your problem, what can I do for you, miss..?” He left it open, waiting for her to give her name.
“Octavia.” She filled in the blank, though hesitantly. Spike's eyes lit with recognition.
“From the famous Canterlot String Quartet?” He questioned, almost amazed to see someone so well known and talented here, of all places. Her eyes welled with renewed tears, and Spike guessed he said something wrong. “Pony Joe.” He called the bartender, who sighed and looked to him. “Can I get a round?” He asked apologetically.
“So they kicked you out?” He asked for clarification, he received a nod of confirmation. He was blown away by her story, it seemed like she just had an off day and nothing went her way all the way to the end of it. Anything that could go wrong, went wrong, from being dumped by her marefriend to getting kicked out of her apartment to losing her job.
“Stuck up buckers.” He cursed the stuffed shirts up in Canterlot. He grew up there, he knew very well how the citizens of the higher class carried themselves and handled others like they were play-things.
Spike also knew what it was like being out of a job, he had moved out of the library only a year ago into an apartment building down the way. Rent was due soon and he had to find a way to grease his land-lord's hooves before he was out on the street, or worse, back under Twilight's roof.
He felt his heart go out to the mare, she was alone and on the streets, all thanks to Celestia knows what causing her to have a bad day. It could be luck, it could be karma, it could be anything or everything, but Spike wasn't one to let somepony go without, even if it put him in a bad position.
“Do you have anywhere to stay?” He asked, unsure of how to go about this. When he saw her shake her head slightly, eyes locked on her bottle, Spike knew what he would do. “Well, I'm in need of a roommate. Rent's due soon, and the land-lord is getting on my back about it. How about it?” He suggested.
Octavia wasn't sure if it was the alcohol or not, but something told her it was better then sleeping in some alley, even if everything logical told her that staying with a stranger, a dragon stranger at that, would be bad. She found herself nodding.
The apartment was a depressing scene. It's walls were white and bare, with only one window that had its curtains pulled closed. The only feature the living room held was a brown, slightly ragged couch and a little table beside it holding pictures of what Octavia assumed were his friends. She settled herself onto the couch as Spike, whom had introduced himself embarrassingly late, went to get her a blanket and pillow.
“I know its not much, but you need to make due, sometimes.” He spoke as he looked through the hall closet. There wasn't much in there either, just a broom and some extra sheets. He grabbed a sheet, deciding it was better then nothing. Once he returned to the mare, she was already sound asleep. Her chest rising and falling slowly with each breath.
She looked so distraught earlier, and even now the look of hurt were etched onto her features. Spike draped the sheet over her sleeping form and walked to his room, his bed calling out to him. It wasn't long after flopping onto the bed that his exhaustion overcame him and let him fall into a deep sleep.