Twilight let out an exhausted sigh as she buried her head in her hooves. She massaged her tired eyes before returning her gaze to the rubble and ruin that Ponyville had become in the last hour.

The majority of the homes were without roofs, and a good portion of the town's citizens' possessions still lay in the mountainous cave. Among them were a good portion of Pinkie Pie's cakes, Fluttershy's chicken coup and nearly half of the town's apple crop, as well as countless carts, stands, desks, the water tower's top, and anything the dragon had seemed to like in the midst of his greed spurned rampage.

The sirens were just now starting to die down, but a frantic commotion still sounded out throughout the town. Some citizens had begun to try and begin repairs and reclamations, whether by scaling the mountainside to retrieve stolen belongings or by simply mending the damage with what was available. But, the majority of the inhabitants were still panicked, and righteously so; they'd just been attacked and raided by a monstrous purple lizard.

The unicorn had been among the ones to try and start rebuilding, but she felt overwhelmingly guilty for what happened, causing the wave of anxiety that had placed her here on the pedestal of a recently toppled statue, her eyes hidden by lavender hooves and her body sitting slumped over what was left of the square's fountain.

She tried to tell herself that there was nopony to blame, that there was no way any of them could have predicted Spike's sudden growth, accompanied by a campaign for material wealth spreading from town to the adjacent mountainside.

Not even Spike could be blamed for his own actions; had any of the town's ponies been better educated, they would have known not to shower him in birthday presents, and hence, his primal instincts would not have kicked in, and the entire catastrophe could have been avoided altogether.

There was only one thing that the blame could be pinned on; the lack of Equestrian knowledge on dragons. Even Twilight, upon reflection, realized she herself, possibly the best educated and most well-read pony in town, let alone the entirety of Equestria, knew next to nothing about the beasts, and she lived with one. Their diet, their sleeping habits, their ability for certain types of magic, and the texture of their scales, at least Spike's, was all she knew.

She sighed again, and thought that, perhaps, she was guilty for the destruction; she'd been the one that raised Spike, and she'd raised him as a pony, not as a dragon. Maybe, if she'd done better, the whole ordeal could have been bypassed. His instincts and tendencies as a dragon could have been snuffed out instead of ignored, and this whole thing would have been less of a surprise as well as less of a tragedy.

Twilight realized that her thoughts had too many 'what ifs'. Yes, a bit of it may have been her fault; the citizens sure seemed to think so by some of the glares she'd been receiving as of late, but that hardly changed anything. What was done could not be undone, no matter how much she thought about it, but it could be prevented from happening again. After all, Celestia had always said, 'Learn from your mistakes.'

A sudden crash caused Twilight to jump, and she looked up once again. She saw the hollowed out remains of a building coming down, timber and stone intermingling into a dense pile in the street. Yet another pile of what was previously a home littering the street.

Again, she sighed. What could she do? The entire town was a mess. It had been so easy to destroy for the dragon. What had taken countless years to build was laid to waste over the course of a few hours, and it made her feel utterly powerless.

"Hey Twilight," sounded a familiar voice behind her, and the unicorn turned around to see a friendly face.

Applejack was doing her best to smile up at her from the bottom of the fountain's base. Her face was uplifting, but not as much as the small army behind her, her massive brother at the front of the Apple family's ranks. Each of the numerous equines behind her had shovels and wheelbarrows at the ready, and Twilight knew the reason she had hastily summoned her family from the neighboring towns before the orange mare even told her.

"We're all here to help," she drawled, "Lucky the famous family reunion's comin' up; near half these folks were already on their way here a bit early for the big day."

Twilight smiled back at the congregation of earth ponies, all looking to her expectantly.

"Alright," the unicorn said, hopping down from the defiled pedestal, "Let's get started on cleaning up this mess."

Twenty six hours later, the streets were cleared of debris, the buildings that were salvageable had been saved, and the structures that weren't, torn down and cleared away as well. It was a start, but there was still plenty of work to be done; but, that work had to be done by rested ponies, which were in short supply. All the species, Pegasus, unicorn and earth ponies had pitched in, but even with the aide of magic and wings, the process for rebuilding was tedious.

At least partially satisfied with what had been done, Twilight had told the working party she'd taken command of to rest, waiting on the coming of the next day's dawn to continue reparations.

Now, making good on her plan to rest in preparation for more work tomorrow, Twilight pushed through the doors of her own home. The oak swayed around her, gently and in tune with the dusk's breeze, and creaking a bit, talking in the way trees sometimes do. She walked past her bookcases, hollow as their books had been taken by a dragon's greed earlier, and had yet to be returned.

The oak just wasn't home without them, and it seemed more like a shell than a house. That's all it was now anyway; no longer a library as it had no books. It was only a home, and an incomplete one at that.

She heard, among the creaks and whispers of the swaying tree, a sigh upstairs. She decided to investigate; she was going there anyway, as it was where her bed, and inevitably, sleep was.

The lavender unicorn trudged up the stairs, thoroughly spent from the events of late. She pushed through the door to her bedroom, and saw the source of the town's destruction sitting on her floor. A small, dragon youth; purple scales, green spines, miniscule talons and an arrowhead tipped tail. His back was to her, and he didn't even seem to notice when she came in.

He was staring at the wall, or rather, what was in the wall. A large hole, eerily dragon shaped and fairly large, had been punched through the heartwood of the tree, and outwards through its bark. Seven feet in height, three or four in width, long, thick arms and legs, and ominous in stance. It was hard to believe that it had been made by the tiny drake in front of her.

She felt utterly sorry for him; she could only imagine the guilt he must have felt. She decided to leave him alone; he hadn't come out of the room since the event, and she thought it better to leave him alone with his thoughts, letting him come back to the world when he was ready.

She turned silently to leave, much quieter than when she'd entered, but she didn't get far before a small voice behind her spoke.

"Please stay," Spike pleaded in a whisper.

Twilight gave up on leaving the dragon; he needed company, not solitude in which to reflect as she did. He had his own way of coping, and apparently, it required her presence.

She didn't say a word as she came into the room, lying down next to her scaly friend on the hardwood floor. He didn't say anything at first either.

Twilight ignored that she was tired; yes, her body shouted at her to close her eyes, but her mind stayed awake. She needed to be there for Spike. And that's what she did, simply being present for the dragon as seconds turned into minutes, adding up in the motionless silence of the room.

Finally, Spike cocked his head and pointed slightly at the hole in the wall. He waved his finger as he hesitated on speaking. Finally, he withdrew his outstretched hand, clenched a fist, and rested his head on it.

"I did that," he whispered aloud, as if he didn't believe it, tears welling up in his eyes.

Twilight looked at the jagged edges of the space torn through the wall, outlining Spike's previous form, menacing and large and intimidating, nothing like the dragon that sat next to her.

"That was me," he whispered again as a tear fell to the floor.

Twilight put a forelimb around Spike, and pulled him closer to her. The dragon leaned into the embrace, savoring it. His face was wet as he let his cheek feel Twilight's consoling fur.

"It wasn't your fault," Twilight said, trying to persuade him, but he was convinced he was wholly responsible for the damage that had been done.

"I overheard some ponies talking," he said quietly, "They said that I'm not fit to live with ponies. That I'm too dangerous to be kept around. That I'm a monster."

Twilight lowered her head onto his drooping spines.

"They're just words Spike."

"But they're right, aren't they?"

"No," Twilight responded in a way that was firm, but still kind, "They were just scared Spike, that's all. They didn't mean it. Everypony in this town loves you."

Spike was silent for another time, waiting until he found something worth saying to speak.

Eventually, he broke the quiet again, but barely, as his voice was the same volume as the breeze outside.

"Did I hurt anypony?"

"No," Twilight whispered back.

"Is Rarity ok?"

Twilight waited a bit to respond; she was shaken up by the ordeal of being kidnapped by an immense reptile, but was unharmed. She decided to reveal the second of the two truths; that one would help to ease his mind.

"She's fine."

Twilight waited a while to make sure the dragon had come to reconcile with himself, as was suggested by his silence, before she asked, "Did you send the letter to Celestia?"

He nodded.

"Yeah, a few hours ago."

Spike spoke no more after that, and didn't move until night had set in. He cried a bit more, but stopped when the night lost its youth. Then, he fell asleep, and Twilight did the same, not bothering to move to her bed; she found rest on the hardwood at the dragon's side, as did he.