The walk through Ponyville seemed both much shorter and much longer to Spike. Short because his growth made his strides much longer; longer because ponies kept giving him nervous looks and he couldn’t stand it. His anger must have been plain, but he wasn’t exactly trying that hard to hide it. Every footstep was a stomp that left small craters in the dirt and turned grass into pulp. Every lash of his tail sent a shockwave like a strong gust of wind. Every snort of his nostrils sent out a plume of smoke so hot it burned his own nostrils, let alone make any pegasus unfortunate enough to fly through it yelp in pain.

The tears that certainly weren’t streaming down his face had nothing to do with it. Not at all. He wasn’t crying. Of course he wasn’t. He refused to. Why would he? He would just go talk to Rarity, she’d be more than happy to tell Celestia to shove her orders where her sun didn’t shine, and everything would be back to normal. Right.

“Ow!” a familiar voice that sounded like his claws against a gem yelped above him. “Okay, who’s the wise guy who lit a fire under my-?”

Spike looked up to lock eyes with none other than Rainbow Dash. Or rather, Second Lieutenant Rainbow Dash, after her recent promotion in the Wonderbolts. She was lazing about on her favorite cloud in her downtime, as per usual. She was doing that a second earlier, anyway. A gust of searing smoke up her plot had her locking glares with the younger dragon.

Her anger quickly gave way to fear. Of what he wasn’t sure, nor did he care.

“Oh, um… hi, Spike,” she squeaked out with a grin that looked so forced it looked like she would sprain something. “Er… having a nice day? No, wait, stupid, um, nice weather we’re having, right? Thanks to the weather team, and all that. Uh, right?”

His claws flexed. “You knew, didn’t you?”

“Whatever are you talking about?” she asked with a nervous chuckle, desperately looking at anything but him.

“The letter. You knew about it,” he repeated with a snarl. “You girls tell each other everything, don’t you?”

Rainbow Dash rubbed the back of her head. “Well, not everything…”

“More than you ever tell me!” he snapped, small gouts of flame spurting out of his nostrils. “You never tell me anything! You’re too busy saving Equestria and leaving me behind and alone and not knowing if you’ll ever come back…!” He screwed his eyes shut and tore at them as if he could dig out the tears before they fell. It didn’t work. When he opened them again, Rainbow Dash was gone, and so was her cloud.

“Figures,” he spat, raking the claws of his foot into the dirt as he continued on his way. He’d drawn the stares of about half the town, but he didn’t care. They only cared because they were afraid of him. None of them actually cared about him. Nopony cared. Nopony but Rarity.

Stewing in his own loneliness and frustration numbed the rest of the trip to him. Everything else was so much sickeningly happy and colorful blurs until he reached the Carousel Boutique, his home away from home and his bed away from bed. Used to be; hoped it still was. He didn’t know what he would do if it wasn’t.

Spike rapped on the door gently. Didn’t want to sound too desperate. Didn’t want to sound too angry. Didn’t want to sound like anything he was actually feeling. So he didn’t look like it either, he hastily wiped away whatever tears had managed to slip onto his cheeks with the back of his hand.

He probably should’ve expected it, but he was still somewhat disappointed and frustrated that Sweetie Belle came to the door. She’d come into her early teens, though she wasn’t quite the incoherent, hormonal mess that most teenagers were. Yet. Her normal bouncy confidence was gone, and in its stead the look of a mare troubled.

“Thought you’d come by,” she mumbled, pulling away a lock of her long, curly mane out of her face. “Rarity’s been crying in her room pretty much all day. Knew it had to be about you, but she won’t tell me anything about it.”

Spike’s rage deflated like so much hot air and his heart sank right down into his stomach. “It…it is. Can I see her?”

“Am I allowed to know what happened first?” Sweetie asked, looking up at him with pleading eyes. “She’s feeling so bad that she actually let me cook breakfast this morning and said it tasted fine. I’m worried out of my mind here, Spike.”

He sighed and scratched the back of his neck. “We… well, she broke up with me. I don’t really think I should say any more than that.”

Sweetie Belle’s ears flattened. “I should’ve guessed as much. Come on in.” The door glowed pale green with her magic aura as she stepped to the side to let him through. He crouched down and stepped through when she added, “Just please don’t push her if she says no, okay? I really think you two are a great couple, but I don’t want you two to hurt yourselves trying to save a lost cause.”

“She won’t,” he said simply as he climbed the stairs on all fours, slithering around the bend. He didn’t hear any crying coming from Rarity’s door as he approached. It wasn’t until he pressed his ear to it that he heard muffled sobbing inside. He frowned, his eyes starting to water himself before he took in a deep breath, steeling himself.

He knocked on the door gently only to be greeted by, “Go away! I said I don’t want to talk about it. Please don’t worry about me…”

Spike cringed. Taking another deep breath to steady his rapidly beating heart, he said, “It’s me, Rarity. I want to talk to you.”

“S…Spike?” There was a pause that felt like a small lifetime to him. “I…I really don’t think we should. I just want to be alone.”

“Rarity-” He stopped himself mid-snarl, getting his temper under control. “Rarity, I know you’re lying. You outright told me that Celestia ordered you to do this. She had no right to do that to you. She had no right to do that to us. Please, just open the door…”

The lock clicked open and the door glowed with a soft blue light. It gently creaked open, moving out of the two lovers’ path.

Spike stepped inside warily, casting his eyes about the all too familiar bedroom. Spent tissues were strewn about like paper shrapnel across the floor. The bed wasn’t made; far from. Rarity wasn’t even tucked in under the normally meticulously flattened covers like a letter in an envelope. She was just curled up around one of her pillows, the sheets in disarray, probably seeing their first ever wrinkles since they were bought. Her rear was to the door, but the gravity of two broken hearts in the same room crushed any amorous thoughts he might normally have or comments he might normally make.

Rarity shifted to face him with none of her normal grace or poise. She moved less like a Canterlot elite socialite and more like a corpse rising from its grave through no will of its own. Her eyes were red and puffy, her cheeks glistening with fresh tears and the pillow she rested her head on stained with old ones. Even though she looked at him, it felt more like she was looking in his general direction so she wouldn’t feel rude. “Sorry about the mess,” she mumbled. “Haven’t really felt like picking up after myself today.”

“It’s fine,” he whispered, crawling up to the foot of her bed and closing the door with his tail.

Rarity shook her head and sniffled. “No. No, none of it is fine. None of this is, at all. I am so sorry, dear.”

“I know you are.” He leaned in and nuzzled his cheek against hers. So soft and warm, her fur was, though slick with tears. “But you don’t have to be. It isn’t your fault. Celestia and Twilight put you up to this. You don’t have to listen to them, Rarity. They have no right to mess with our lives like this.”

Rarity sniffled again and wiped away a few more tears with her forelegs. She was silent for a long while. Too long.

“Rarity… what’s wrong?” he asked, reaching to hold her cheek.

Her upheld hoof stopped him. “Spike… I suppose I didn’t make it clear enough in my letter. I was already thinking of… ending it before Celestia gave the order. I only didn’t because I was so scared of hurting you. I’m glad she put her hoof down; it spared us both a lot of pain, trust me.”

Spike’s heart retched and ached as he pulled his hand away. “You… you what?”

She held his hand in both her hooves and looked up at him with a desperate look in her eye. “Please, Spike, you have to understand. I love you very, very much. I still do. But it just wouldn’t work out between us.”

“But…but why?” He held her hooves tightly in his own hands, careful not to hurt her all the same. “We already talked about this. We both decided we don’t care what other ponies think, and you don’t want foals anyway! We can make this work!”

“That’s not it,” she said, looking down at his hands and her hooves. “I still wouldn’t care what other ponies think. They could stare and slander their little hearts out, and I’d never care. But doesn’t what I think matter, Spike? Isn’t what I feel important?”

“What are you talking about?” he asked, his grip loosening.

“Spike… I tried to let you down gently before, but…” She wrenched her eyes shut and took a deep breath. “The fact that your dragon instincts are showing isn’t the problem. It’s the fact that I know I’m the only thing keeping them from getting even worse.”

Spike blinked. He no longer felt like he was there. The world was color and shape without meaning. Sound was noise without sense. It was all just a bad dream. He would wake up and forget. He had to.

“I can’t handle that sort of pressure, Spike,” she cried, her voice cracking and her forelegs shaking. “I can’t handle the thought of knowing that if I ever mess up, that if you ever lose control of yourself again, it’ll be all my fault. I can’t live that way, Spike! I can’t spend my life watching over you like a ticking time bomb!” Tears ran down her face anew, dripping down onto her pillow to join tears long departed. “I just can’t!”

His claws gently ran across her hooves as his hands fell limply to his sides. “No…no, this can’t be real.”

Rarity sobbed as she forced her eyes open to look into his, though it was doubtful she could see much but colored blurs. “I am so…so sorry.”

Spike looked down at his hands, his fingers, his claws as tears of his own fell down onto them. He simply stared. Not hooves. Could never be hooves. Could never be blunt, always be sharp. Always had to be careful not to cut, not to rend, not to tear. Always careful, always vigilant, always dangerous.

“Spike…?”

He didn’t need to think about what he did next. Thought was no longer a factor. Thought was pointless.

He brought his arm up to his maw and sank his teeth into it. Scales bent and shattered and flesh ripped and bled.

He was awake. He was very much awake. He was awake and bleeding. It was all real. It was all terrifyingly real.

“Spike!”

Rarity’s shriek of alarm sounded miles away. Years away. Not same time, not same place, just not there but for some reason he could hear it. He stumbled back onto all fours and rushed out the bedroom door, his tail lashing and smashing something wooden, but he didn’t care. He just had to get out, had to leave, had to be alone.

Out the front door. Away from the building. Away from the street. Away from the town. Time was beyond an abstract; it was nothing. It was just a blur of color and a chorus of meaningless, pointless voices of faceless ponies and wasted time.

He lashed out at a tree and nearly rent it in two with his claws.

All of it meaningless.

He slammed another with his tail, the wooden titan creaking as it tilted and its roots came up with it.

All of it pointless.

He let loose a stream of flame, searing with rage and hate and despair that engulfed whatever was before him, and he didn’t care what.

All of it a waste.

Spike’s chest heaved as he looked around. He was in the Everfree Forest. He was in the Everfree as it began to burn. Fire, his fire, crackled and cackled in his ears as it consumed the homes of dozens of animals and promised to consume hundreds more. His doing. His fault.

All a waste because it all lead up to him being alone.

The primal roar that rang out through the fledgling forest fire was far worse than the cry of an animal simply wounded. Next Chapter: Dearly Forsaken Estimated time remaining: 1 Hour, 20 Minutes