//------------------------------//
// CH 11-finaly 
// Story: The Cryssaling pt 2 
// by storm the castle 
//------------------------------//

Ch 11

Spike, once again, was wandering the streets of ponyville. It had been a couple of days since the incident with the angry mob, and most of the offenders had come by to personally apologize to he and Twilight, with the exception of Glitter and her closest supporters. Spike had taken it all in stride as best he could, and didn’t let it affect him (he cried when he got home that day.)

His own supporters had come by to see if he was doing all right, as well, the cmc being first in line. Eventually, he and Twilight got so sick of ponies coming in and out of the library that she actually closed it down for half of the previous day, time Spike took to fill Twilight in on how things had been going in her absence, mostly concerning his attempts to find work. She hadn’t been thrilled at first, thinking he intended to strike out on his own, and had even threatened to ground him. Fortunately, she calmed down a bit and became a bit more amenable to the idea once he explained his reasons for wanting a job, that while yes, he had initially wanted to impress Rarity and that that was still one of his primary goals, he now felt that it may be a key aspect to his own growth.

Spike had come to realize, after a bit  of introspection, that throughout the past two days, every time he tried to get a job, and was subsequently rejected, it wasn’t the thought of not being able to impress is beu that upset him, but the idea that he wouldn’t have a chance to prove his worth in a field of his choosing. That thought had initially surprised him, but as he thought on it, he felt it was more and more of a true statement, and Twilight said that it certainly said something about his character that that was how he felt about the situation.

She eventually caved, and decided to help him out. The two of them put their heads together figuratively, and tried to come up with an idea of what he might be able to get a job doing, and maybe come up with a solution as to why some of those he had already tried might not have worked out. While neither could come up with a solid idea of what he might be particularly good for, Twilight said that it wasn’t because he didn’t have any kind of marketable skills.

“Spike, you have to understand.” She told him. “You’re not like other ponies your age. I’ve spent most of our time together studying almost everything under the sun to some degree, and you received experience in all those same subjects, sort of as a runoff effect.”

Twilight made her way to the side of the table that Spike was sitting at in the library, books and professional references littered about in their search. She gingerly stepped over a precariously stacked pile of tomes to sit next to him. “While most ponies are only ever exposed to the prominent professions in a region, or those of their own family, you have basic applicable skills in almost everything you might want to try, even electronics for Mr Widget, you just might not realize it right off the bat.” She seemed almost excited now, like she had made some sort of discovery after days of research. “Your qualified to do any entry level position in anything you might want! You have too many options, and the problem is that you don’t seem to know which actually suits you as an individual. I think that the only reason you haven’t been getting the jobs you try out for is because you are your own worst enemy, sabotaging yourself at the outset by not throttling your ability to the task at hand and you end up over performing, or taking some kind of extra, unnecessary step.”

Contrary to Twilight excitement, Spike began to sulk. “So what does that mean?” he asked. “That I can’t get a job because I’m always trying to do something else, rather than what they specifically want?”

“kind of.” She admitted. “It’s more like the only reason you manage to get your foot in the door is because you already know how to do the job itself, but because it’s so against your personality or individual wants, you end up driving yourself into the ground subconsciously to get out of having to do it.”

“Wait, hold up for a second.” He told her, interrupting her very unprincess-like nerding. “You can’t honestly expect me to believe everything that happened was my own fault?” he made an agitated gesture, as if to draw attention to something that wasn’t even there. “Glitter and her friends were the only reason I got kicked out of the Glittering Pony, and Mr Widget said he didn’t even need me! How could I have done that to myself?”

“Don’t get me wrong, Spike.” She said, trying to calm him. “From your story, there are obviously things that were beyond your control, like everything that happened with Sven, or the Dairy Fair’s reaction to you at sweet apple acres. But if you think critically, you can spot the discrepancies in some of what happened.” She pulled a white board to her, magically cleaned it, and began to draw as she wrote. “For instance, at the Glittering Pony. Yes, the outward reason you were asked to leave was because Glitter made a ruckus and threatened the livelihoods of the employees to a degree, but you know how ponies react to you.” She drew a shiney gem next to a pony. “Especially ones with lots of jewelry or gem stones on their person, things they would want to protect from creatures well known for theft and hoarding such items. And in spite of that history, you allowed yourself to be placed next to a window where every pony could see you, and potentially get spooked and cause a ruckus.”

Spike sighed. “It’s a neat theory, Twilight, but your ignoring the fact that I was practically made for that job. Why would I want to sabotage myself out of such a sweet gig?”

She smiled knowingly, as if she had known all along that he would ask this. “Ah, but did you think about the particulars? About spending eight hours a day, every day, in a cramped room looking at and sniffing and inspecting gems that you can’t keep? That you have to give away at a moment’s notice, and not eat a single one of them? Does that really sound like a dream job?”

Spike looked like she had just shown him his own skull or something of the like. ‘I didn’t even think about that!’ He thought ‘It wouldn’t be a dream, it’d be some kind of medieval torture plan for dragons!’

“And that’s not the only one that I saw.” She continued on. “You’ve helped at sweet apple acres dozens of times, almost completely without incident. And yet, now, you can’t even comprehend the basics? I don’t think so.” Now she drew an apple next to what looked like a clock. “Spike you’ve got great work ethic, and I’ll be the first one to admit it. When you’re given a job, you give it your all and stick with it till it’s done most of the time. But the thing is, even you have to admit that your lazy; really lazy.” Spike grumbled a bit about how it only seemed that way cause she always had some kind of job to do, but kept it mostly to himself, and Twilight continued uninterrupted. “When you finish your work, you always try to take a nap, or get a snack, or do something fun. So on, so forth. But farmers have a hard work day, harder than almost any other profession. They wake up with the sun and work all day long. The only reason we see members of the Apple family out and about in town is because they like to stay ahead of their work, and there’s always a member or two at the farm at all times. You would work with them for maybe a week, at most, then quit.” He huffed, but didn’t argue. She giggled, and continued. “And that’s understandable. Not only are you young, but you have never had a particularly ‘long-term’ kind of outlook. You prefer to look at what’s happening at the moment, and let things come as they may.”

Twilight stowed the white board and rejoined Spike at the table. “I could go through a few more examples, but I think you get the idea, right Spike?”

Spike nodded, admitting she had a pretty solid point. “But what does that mean now?” he asked. “I can’t exactly go to every business in town, ask for a job, and wait to see if I set the place on fire just to get away.”

Twilight shrugged and sighed. “I’m not sure when we hit that point, Spike. It’s one of the few things you have in common with ponies your age; theres no way to predict what your going to be since there’s just too many possibilities, too many variables. You may not have a cutie mark to search for, but this really isn’t that different I’m afraid.” She gave a little snort, as if to laugh a mildly funny joke. “That may actually be an apt description, you know, searching for a cutie mark.” She shrugged and made her way to the kitchen, the long hours taking their toll on both of their stomachs. “Maybe since you can’t get one, this job search is the same thing? I don’t know, but if that’s true, then the only way you have to find it would be a lot of self understanding or random chance.”

Spike followed her into the kitchen, opening the fridge and assembling the ingredients for a simple sandwich and some juice. “But even with ponies, they have an idea of what they enjoy, or what they might wanna do when they grow up. But that means the original problem, that I can do almost anything I try, is gonna keep me from finding it out in any kind of fast way.” He and Twilight sat at the kitchen table, one of the few that didn’t have a pile of books or papers from one search or another on it.

“I’m sorry Spike, I really do wish I could help more, there, but I raised you to be my assistant so you could help me with anything I might want to try out. The only thing I can honestly say you’ve always been good at that I didn’t deliberately instill in you is setting things on fire and finding the most expensive thing you can and hiding it.” Spike sighed, and they let the conversation drop as they ate their sandwiches together.

And so it was that Spike found himself wandering about ponyville an hour later, without any real purpose. “Hmph.” He chuckled. “Cutie mark huh? Wonder if the Crusaders are taking any applications?” he wondered aloud. He really only half considered asking them, more or less to occupy his mind, as rationally he knew those three would get into more than enough horrifying situations without a living furnace helping the chaos along.

Tired now from his wanderings, Spike made his way to a nearby curb and sat down. He took in his surroundings and noticed he had stopped in front of ‘Iron Caste,’ a store whose function he didn’t even know for himself, since he and Twilight had never been inside. The store front had a hammer and a crown as it’s logo, and AJ had mentioned that “they do good work,” so whatever they did it obviously wasn’t some money pit for suckers. What had always stuck out at Spike was all the junk that seemed to litter the property, as he had always assumed that the nearby businesses would have made some kind of ruckus about it, but they never did.

Though now that he took notice, all the supposed ‘junk’ was rather specific in content, and was gathered up to one side of the store, the three different piles not passing onto or even near the sidewalk. He was pretty near the rightmost pile, so he leaned in without getting up to inspect its contents. Upon closer inspection, the pile was made up entirely of mangled and rusted bits of metal, specifically aluminum in this one. The one next to the silvery metal was brownish looking, which Spike’s nose told him was varying grades of bronze and on the farthest left was what looked like iron, according to the more orange-red color of the oxidization and darker material.

“So, what?” he asked of nopony in particular. “Is it like the town junk collector? Weird it would be here in the middle of town like this.” He absent mindedly picked up the smallest piece of aluminum he could find in his claw, what looked like a section of cable from a picket fence. It was too small to do anything with, and Spike figured no pony would miss such a small piece of junk, so he decided to flick it around in his claws. It kept him entertained for a good minute, until he dropped it between his feet, and left it to lie there. He stared at it boredly, not really caring one way or another.

Spike decided to try and think about what Twilight had said about the two things he had always been good at. While he could’t say the idea of trying to get work finding and hiding all the most expensive items appealed to him, he had to admit that setting things on fire when no-pony was looking was a secret pleasure of his. Some ponies snuck cookie or cake, he burned things. “But how can I get a job doing that?” he asked. Maybe he could burn garbage? Nah, that’d get old real fast. What about the power plant? Didn’t it need fire and coal to produce electricity? He actually considered it for a second, but decided against it. Not only was the burning of the coal itself what produced the energy, not the fire, but ponyville didn’t have a power plant of any kind, so he would have to go all the way to Canterlot to do it.

Spike blew a puff of frustrated smoke, unable to think of anything else. His attention turned once again to the piece of aluminum wire that had been his plaything. Without anything else to do, he blew a steady stream of fire at it, small and controlled, and in moments the metal had been reduced to a literal puddle at his feet. Spike grinned. “Look’s like cherry filling.” He joked to himself.

“Is that what we do now, lad?” asked a deep voice to Spike’s rear. “Melt crap on other ponies front porches?”

Spike jumped to his feet and spun to meet the owner of the voice, surprise plain on his face. Behind him had come a burly old stallion by the name of Head ‘n Haft, a surly former royal guard who Spike remembered had been present after his chryssaling, guarding Twilight when all the business with the reporters was going on. He was a large earth pony with a grey coat and black mane, a large hammer serving as his cutie mark, and he wore what looked like an ultra-thick leather apron covered in soot and burn marks. He had an Irish accent, though it wasn’t as thick enough to alter his speech. “Sorry, sir, I wasn’t trying to make a mess, promise.”

Head ‘n Haft snorted derisively. “Yeah, sure lad, I’m just going to go ahead and believe you, and while I’m at it I’ll get ready for the space aliens. You really expect me to believe you melted metal on accident?” he asked. “And on top of the scorch mark it’ll leave, I have to square it off so nopony hurts themselves walkin by while it cools.”

Spike kicked at the dirt sullenly, doing his best to not meet the large stallions eye. “Like I said, I wasn’t looking to make a mess, I just wasn’t thinking. I can stay out here and keep ponies away till it cools, if you can forgive me.”

“Ha!” he shouted loudly. “You bet your gonna stick around. I don’t know how long you were out here trying to turn that thing into goo, but you’re going to stick around twice as long till it cools.”

Spike just looked confused now, looking at the older pony quizzically. “I wasn’t out her more than a minute, and it only took me a couple of seconds to melt that aluminum.”

Head ‘n Haft advanced angrily on Spike. “Don’t you lie to me, boy, I wasn’t born yesterday. It takes more than 600 degrees to melt aluminum, and though it might have been less for a bity piece like that, it won’t have been by much. Ain’t much in this world that’s gonna do that in a ‘a couple seconds,’ I guarantee you that!”

Spike waved his claws defensively, trying to fend off the larger ponies aggression towards him. “But it’s true! I swear!” he told the pony. “I can control how hot my fire is, and I do stuff like that all the time! You can ask Twilight!”

Head ‘n Haft stopped in his advance, but continued to look at Spike angrily. His head swiveled between the dragon and the puddle, which had begun to harden due to it’s small size, and back again. His expression changed to one of suspicion, but he didn’t say anything. Finally, after a few moments of thinking it over, he beckoned Spike to follow him, putting some of the scrap over top of the still searing hot piece of aluminum to keep ponies from stepping on it, and grabbing some more and taking with him.

The two entered the Iron Caste storefront, and inside Spike finally had a chance to guess at what it was for. In racks and crates, on pegs and shelves was all manner of metal craft. Some of it looked so be simple tools and horseshoes of various sizes, while some of the more exotic items were almost like an art project. He saw a wrought iron fence, each bar of which looked like they had been twisted like toffee, and a design that looked like the mare in the moon from nightmare night decorations on the front. There was any number of finery in the store as well, such as gold and silver rings and chains, or an intricate looking tiara, which, though they all lacked gemstones or extra decorations, Spike could tell they were exceptionally valuable. (the price-tags helped.) he didn’t have time to appreciate much else, however, as the gruff pony in front of him cleared his throat loudly, indicating Spike should follow him through the door he stood in front of.

Past the door a very different sight greeted Spike. On the other side was a workshop which, in spite of all the soot on the ceiling and the smell of burning coal, was exceptionally well organized with several rows of tools, like hammers that all had different shaped or sized heads, or various kinds of thongs and chisels. “Huh, so it’s a smithy?” Spike asked outloud.

The stallion rolled his eyes. “Well done, boy, you figured out my terrible secret. Good for you.” Before Spike could grumble out a snarky response, he was led over to a row of stone plaques, which when Spike got close looked to be molds for different things. He led Spike to one that was just a long thin line with a bulbous head on one end, and pointed at the ground in front of it, indicating he wanted Spike to stand there and wait, which he did.

Head ‘n Haft returned a short while later with a large metal cup, in which Spike could see the piece of scrap aluminum he had grabbed before coming inside, and held it out to Spike in a pair of thick thongs. “Show me.” He dared Spike simply, holding the thongs with his hooves.

Not one to back down from such a simple challenge, Spike took in a short breath, and bathed the cup in his flames, and just as before it only took a few seconds to do the deed. Inside the smoking cup, he saw a pool of liquid metal, cherry red and ready for pouring, which is just what the old smith did, pouring it from the cup into the mold carefully.

He placed the cup and thongs on an adjacent work bench to cool, while he inspected Spike’s work. Surprised, he gave a slightly drawn-out whistle, as if not expecting the results he got. “Not bad, lad, not bad at all.” He congratulated Spike, smiling for the first time since their meeting. “You got it all in one go, and in just a few second. Even I need a minute with the torch to pull that off, and it’s never that clean the first time.” Walking up and down the mold to check that the metal was distributing properly, he went on to say “Looks like I’ve got no choice to acknowledge that you were telling the- ACK!” he suddenly exclaimed.

Spike became alarmed, thinking he had hurt himself, but when the pony showed no signs of trying to nurse and injury, Spike came over and looked in front of the spot in the mold he had been inspecting. “What is it?” he asked. “Did I mess something up?”

The metal worker waved the thought off as one might a fly. “Nah, you did perfectly. It’s just that there’s a chunk of slag in the mold, which I should have sifted out with a strainer.” He pointed to a black chunk in the mold, which was disrupting the metals ability to flow freely. “Give me a tick, I’ll grab some tweezers to get it out of there.”

“Oh, no. it’s fine;” said Spike in response. “I can get it.”

“What do you mean, you can-” he stopped mid-sentence and went bugeyed as he watched Spike reach out to the mold and stick his fingers in the molten metal. “THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOUR DOING, BOY!?” he hollard, making Spike jump. He ran over to the drago and took his claw in his hoof, expecting the boy to be burned. “THAT’S MOLTEN METAL, IT’LL GO THROUGH YOUR SOFT HIDE LIKE…like. Ummm, what’s the deal?” he asked confused, seeing no injury.

Spike chuckled. “I’m a dragon, what did you expect? It’s not like I have fur.” He opened his claw to show he had retrieved the slag as promised, a few droplets of aluminum still in his palm. “I’ve taken a magma bath before, even swallowed and spat it out like a fountain. This is nothing.”

Head ‘n Haft was looking at him like he had just given birth to a timber wolf. “The hell?” he asked. Spike shifted uncomfortably under the gaze, thinking he may have once again sabatoged himelf out of the ponies good graces. Head ‘n Haft, however, just shook his head and grinned broadly at Spike, seeming impressed. “Lad, I don’t know what it is you like to do with you’re day, but you might have a future in metal work.” He put a hoof around Spike’s shoulders, and led him away from the cooling mold. “What I wouldn’t give to have you on the pay-roll.” He chuckled.

It was like the second coming ( of Luna) for Spike. “You can! I’ve been looking for a job for days now!” he told him excitedly. Spike was like a giddy child now, which he pretty much was. 

The older pony looked at him with surprise. “What? But I thought you worked with the princess? Isn’t that your job?” he leaned in “Did ya get fired?”

Spike shook his head. “Nah, Twilights like family, and I don’t get paid to help her. I just wanted something to prove I had my own means now that im getting older.” He explained.

Head ‘n Haft seemed to accept this answer, and nodded. “Well, I guess that’s fine then. If your serious, then I already have some work for you. I can pay you fifteen bits an hour, and I expect you to come in every day at eight, ‘cept weekends less I say otherwise.”

“That sounds great!” Spike exclaimed, his search seemingly at its end. He lost a bit of mirth though, as a thought came to him. “Umm, actually, do you know Cheerilee? The school teacher?” he asked. His new boss nodded, waiting for him to continue. “She’s been getting over worked these days, and since I know how do all that kind of stuff from working with Twi, I said I’d help her on Mondays, Fridays and Saturdays. Is that ok? It wont take all day, and you’d be doing both of us a huge favor.”

The smith mulled it over for a bit, then said “Yeah, I guess that’s ok. This place doesn’t get the same kind of business as, say, the Cakes store, and I’ve run it alone for years.” He gave a firm nod. “I should be fine while you give her a hoof.”

Spike gave a small whoop, and jumped up in a little victory dance. “Alright!” he exclaimed. “So what do you need, boss?” he asked with a smile.

“Just call me Haft, kid.” He told him. “And I need you to do what you just did, but to as much of all of those piles outside as you can manage. You’ve got plenty of daylight left, so you should get plenty done. Just grab some scrap, put it in the bricking molds, and do your thing. Get out any big chunks of slag you see, but don’t worry too much about the little bits, they’ll be knocked out with the hammer or press.”

Spike saluted goofily to the former guard. “Yes sir!” he said. “Just you watch, Mr Haft, I’ll have at least one pile down to half by the end of the day!” Haft just laughed as they exited the shop to get the scrap, Haft grabbing a wheel barrow that had been situated next to the door.

Spike kept his word that day, and more. By the end of the week, the scrap was barely noticeable, and he had begun getting instruction on how to actually make new items from the bricks and bars he had been making. Spike took to it like a fish to water, and as an added benefit his draconic eye for quality and Twilights obsessive nature drove him to produce only to highest quality items.

With his help, Cheerilee managed to get ahead of her work load, and his likable nature made him a popular addition among the classes, and his draconic nature kept the bigger kids in line as well. As he got into the swing of his work over the coming months, he decided to try various odd-jobs to keep his interest, and while some failed epically, he did surprisingly well in others. Vinyl Scratch made his fire breathing and dull luminescence the center piece of some of her shows, and his impeccable eye for quality was just as desired at The Glittering Pony as Sharp Eye had promised. 

And he of course made more and more friends, each addition causing more and more varied, sometimes dramatic, physical changes. Within the year, he had tripled in size, and managed a wingspan as large as Princess Lunas own.

Looking back on it all, Spike could honestly say all the pain was worth it, worth finding out more about who he was and how his heritage and progressing age would affect his fitting in, though he may not choose to go through it all again.

No, he was certainly glad.

His chryssaling was finally, and fully complete.