At the apex of the darkened castle, on its final flight of barely-lit stairs, a surge of some ill intuition persuaded Spike to halt.

Blinking slowly, the young man pondered his involuntary action as he withdrew hesitantly from Twilight's bedroom, making sure to control his breathing so as not to betray his apprehension to any who might be listening.

Though he steadied himself on the guardrail, and gripped the base of the serving tray which held six lovingly prepared mugs of hot chocolate, it seemed as though all sense of purpose had deserted him. The sudden wave of detachment, though disconcerting in the extreme, seemed to grant him unnatural clarity.

He noted with discomfort the brightness of the hallway's many lamps, the formerly soft lighting now uncomfortably bright and obtrusive. The dull buzzing of his phone in his modest lavender pinstripe pajama pants became unsettlingly warm, the vibrations sounding out the hollow interior of the all but deserted vestibule.

And. perhaps worst of all, Spike could feel the tension on the other side of the door.

Long though the climb up the stairs had been due to the delicate burden of the tray he had carried, eavesdropping on his housemate and her guests was far from his intent. Rather, it was impossible to ignore the sounds of their raucous, increasingly drunken laughter...

Despite himself, Spike felt a flash of aimless irritation at his own forgetfulness. He knew he should've brought chips and pretzels, if only to stave off their debauchery long enough for him to get some sleep.

However, as he turned back to face the now worryingly quiet bedroom, its humble wooden frame eclipsed in soft light like a sunset in miniature, Spike reflected on his choices.

Whatever was happening on the other side of that door, it felt...heavy. Upsetting. A perfect storm of anxiety and stress that Spike now realized he had no wish to invite himself into. He bit the inside of his cheek, the pain stirring his body back into motion. He had just been planning on dropping off the drinks and heading to bed, but now it seemed better to keep from intruding altogether.

I'll just pour them out in my room, Spike reasoned to himself, taking slow, deliberate steps so as not to reveal himself, or otherwise jostle the fragile ceramic mugs with a misplaced step.

A voice surged forth, angry yet patient. It had sounded deep, even deeper than Spike's own mellow pitch, and he attributed it with vague certainty to Applejack. Whatever had been said was soon followed by other, more delicate and feverishly spoken voices, until the sleepover fervor seemed to return in full force.

Cursing his ever-invasive conscience, Spike swallowed his fears and charged into the fray, determined to pretend nothing was wrong.

Spike had taken all of two breaths after sitting down before his door was practically kicked in.

He knew from the impact that it hadn't been Applejack, since the door was still on its hinges as opposed to being reduced to splinters. Any other guesses as to the culprit were put to rest when a "Fuck, my goddamn knee" came hissing from behind the wood.

Sighing, Spike rose to open the door, smoothing his shirt and hair as he did so. Knowing Dash, she'd either pound on his door until he answered her, or fly around to the windows if she was determined enough.

She stared blearily up at Spike when he finally came to let her in. "Why would you lock your door at night?"

Leaning against the door to allow her entry, Spike glanced down at the top of the girl's head as she sidled past him, favoring her uninjured leg. "So troll dolls with technicolor hairdos won't sneak in and break my shit."

Hearing the athlete snort at the crack about her appearance, Spike took one last look down the hall to confirm there was no one else coming. He closed the door behind him as he flicked the lights on. Through the stupor that often came over him when ready for sleep, he was only somewhat surprised to find his unexpected guest, yawning and eyes unfocused, sprawled out on his bed.

"So what gives?" Spike finally asked, resigning himself to an armchair near the corner of the room. He flicked on a lamp near the rear of the room, hoping that the ensuing warm light would keep the athlete from passing out at the foot of his bed. "What was going on in there? Why'd you ditch your little sleepover?"

Rainbow groaned, running her hands over her grimacing face. "It got ugly, is why I ditched it." She laid in the center of the mattress, short legs dangling over the edge. Her rumpled, black tank top hung low over her waist, the sides of her torso exposed by means of a long, man-made tear. "Right before you came in, Applejack was bitching Twilight out for wanting to fuck her brother, or some shit."

Spike's face morphed into a visage of horror as he leaned forward in his seat. "Twilight wants to sleep with Shining?!"

The Wonderbolt turned to face the young man, a look of incredulity on her face. "No! That doesn't even—"

Rainbow paused. "Well...," she started to say, before shaking her head. "No. Hell no."

"What?"

The athlete rubbed her chin, contemplating something in silence. "I mean, Twilight wouldn't, but shit, if he were my brother—"

"Dash." Spike's voice had dropped all surprise, but none of the disgust, forming into something hard and resolute.

"That's beside the point," she reconciled, hurrying to change the course of the conversation. "No, we were just talking about guys we'd bang, and Applejack, y'know, she's super protective of her folks."

"But don't all of you want to fuck Mac anyway?"

"Yeah, man. But AJ wouldn't be happy if she wasn't sucking the fun out of everything, so now she and Twi are busy having a screaming match." She sighed, rubbing an itch out of her eye. "Fucking hell."

Despite his irritation at having his sleep interrupted, Spike sympathized with Dash. Applejack was by and far the most reasonable of their mutual friends, as well as the most accountable; it was only natural that her sour moods, rare as they were, would be all-encompassing and dour.

Even so, as Spike reflected to himself, it seemed...odd, to say the least. Applejack had always been protective of her siblings, to be sure, but rarely if ever to the point of confrontation. She was no less rational than Twilight, which became increasingly more impressive over time in keeping with the latter's continual emotional growth.

When voicing this opinion to Dash, however, the woman shrugged noncommittally. "I dunno, man. Maybe there's something else bothering her, but just because you've got a stick up your ass, that doesn't give you the right to just blow up at your friends over a fucking party game." Dash scoffed. "You should've seen how pissed she got when I won the wager."

From her tone, as well as her body language, Spike was beginning to understand that whatever stress Dash was currently under was something that had been eating at the girl for a long time...and likely might not have been related to Applejack at all.

To say that she was agitated was to trivialize her mood; she was unsettled now, sighing heavily and curling inwards on the bed, her arms crossed tightly over her torso.

"Dash..." he started to ask hesitantly, moving to the edge of his chair, "are you doing okay?"

He could tell by the harsh intake of air she made that Rainbow would like nothing more than to tell him off for prying. When he waited for the sharp retort to come, however, Spike was instead surprised to hear a slow, measured exhalation, before Dash's body loosened and she spoke, sounding much more gathered. "Yeah, I am. Or at least, I should be, I think." She sighed again, before pulling herself into a sitting position. "It's a mixed bag."

Spike rubbed his arm, looking off to the side somewhat awkwardly. He was all for 'real talk', but saying that Rainbow Dash of all people was the person he least expected to have it with was an understatement. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Though he wasn't looking at Dash, he could hear the smile in her voice. "I appreciate it, but don't...y'know, feel obligated.

"I don't," Spike replied honestly, speaking with renewed conviction. He glanced back at Dash, eyes resting at her neckline before shooting off to the side. "That doesn't mean I can't worry about you, though."

Rainbow blinked in modest surprise, her head falling ever so slightly backwards even as her hands planted themselves on the bed to support her weight. "Alright, whatever, green man." She willed herself not to allow any smile a presence on her face, instead clearing her throat and forming a playful smirk. "Am I the first girl you've had in your room?"

Her host shrugged, shifting in his seat to make himself more comfortable. "I don't think so. But if you don't count Twilight, yeah, this is the first time I've been alone with a girl in here." He still had yet to meet her eyes, at least since the tone of their conversation had become more personal.

Dash looked as though she wanted to comment on this new fact; instead, she restrained herself, crossing her legs in a sitting position and smiling over her raised shoulder through a curtain of prismatic hair. "Well, between you and me, when a guy has a lady over at his place—especially at night—he usually offers her a drink."

Spike looked up, now adopting Dash's same smirk. "Would you like something to drink?"

A patronizing "Yes, please," and Spike rose from his seat, feeling the sluggishness fade from his joints as he moved across the room.

To Dash's surprise, however, Spike didn't leave the room for the kitchen as she expected, but rather to an unassuming bookshelf, occupied only by old comics and adventure novels. Moving a stack of Daring Do novels to the side, a false panel was revealed when pushed on.

Behind the wood was a small alcove containing a number of oddities: a roll of bills next to a stack of golden coins; an assortment of strange, malformed rocks, some of which appeared to have indentations resembling bite marks; an aged binder, just small and wide enough to be a photo album; what seemed to be a stack of basic composition journals, some at least a decade old by how worn they looked; and several packs of alcoholic beverages and junk food.

As Dash watched, Spike grabbed a bag of beef jerky and two tall aluminum cans. He pondered the album, before stepping back and sealing the alcove back behind the stack of novels.

Feeling a warm glow of satisfaction rising gradually in his stomach from Dash's gaze of newfound respect, Spike returned to the bed, handing a can to his guest as he relaxed on the corner of the mattress.

"That's a neat little hidey hole," Dash admitted, accepting the beverage—a canned tequila, by the looks of it. "What, you needed a place to hide your contraband?"

"Pretty much," Spike said.

"You just found a hole in the wall one day and started putting shit in it?"

"No, I made that one myself." At her incredulous stare, Spike elaborated. "I breathed fire on the crystal until it was easy enough to scoop it out. That's why the walls on the inside are so smooth."

Tearing open the packet of dried meat, Spike winced briefly at the hiss of air that came when Dash opened her can.

"Twilight doesn't know about it?"

"Not at first," he conceded, "but she found out anyway."

A look of befuddlement. "Then why do you still use it?"

Spike shrugged. "Well, it's still pretty convenient. And I didn't really put it there because it was stuff Twilight doesn't let me have. It's just that she tends to eat my stuff without asking."

"She still do it?"

"Yeah, but I guess the point got through to her." He shrugged. "She still comes in here sometimes to grab something in the middle of the night, but now she makes up for it. Most of the cash in there is from her."

Rainbow stared blankly in the direction of the alcove. "Huh." The quirk of Twilight's struck her as...off, in that she wouldn't have expected the woman to be so juvenile with her companion. A small throb of jealousy momentarily sprang up in her chest at the reminder that, as one of Twilight's oldest friends, as well as her perpetual roommate, Spike simply knew her better than anyone else—with a ten-year head-start on any one else in their group, no less.

Spike, to Dash's slight amusement—and somewhat greater irritation—had visibly cheered up at the mention of his and Twilight's odd relationship. "I dunno, it's weird. After you live together for so long, it's like, you just mesh together better with wordless signals. It's kinda fun, too."

"Why are you sitting so far away?" Rainbow asked abruptly, eyeing her host. She gave her drink a cautionary sip before making a noncommittal shrug.

Startled, Spike knocked his knees, shrugging as he bit into a strip of jerky. "Dunno," he grunted, feeling nowhere near as stoic as he made himself out to be. The diversion in their conversation hadn't lasted nearly as long as he would've liked it to, as he was still faced with several uncomfortable truths.

It was one thing, he now knew, to be alone with Dash in his room at night, speaking to her from several feet away. It was another to be within arm's reach of her, where it was impossible to escape the sound of her breathing and the smell of her shiver-inducing dried sweat. Even her voice, usually brash and full of more cracks than a teenage boy's, had become uncommonly smooth and soft.

Whether or not she was conscious of her affect on him, Spike was unsure. He could only hear her chuckle as he glimpsed the shifting of her bare legs from the corner of his eye, the sound of her small, rough hands running through her vibrant hair.

"Well, I'm not sure I feel like opening up to you when you're all closed off, dude," Rainbow teased. She tugged on his leg—somewhere between his knee and inner thigh, giving him a bit of a shock. "Don't worry, I only bite on the second date."

Despite himself, Spike snorted, grinning into his drink as he finally eyed the woman next to him. "What, so we're on a date right now?"

Seeing as how her host had yet to move closer, Rainbow took it upon herself to close the distance. Pivoting her hips outward—and observing with ardent female pride how his eyes traced the movement of her legs coming behind his back—Dash's smile increased in intensity as well as infectiousness. "You see this?" she said semi-sarcastically, gesturing with one hand, back and forth between the two of them. "You don't get this kind of chemistry between two people who just want to be friends."

Chuckling again, Spike took another sip from his drink, rubbing his other hand against the side of his face, which was becoming increasingly warmer with each flirtation. "I don't think Twilight would like it if she heard you saying that," he mentioned offhand. He finished his can, flinging it into a nearby wastebasket soon afterwards.

"I won, remember?" she asked, raising an eyebrow and staring in amusement up at Spike as she supported her head in one hand. "And besides, you think I'm scared of the big bad bookworm?" Her foot brushed teasingly against the back of his waist, as if to confirm her boldness.

A dumb smile threatened to spread across his face, which Spike quickly smothered with a hurried cough—and which Dash resisted laughing at by biting her cheeks and looking nonchalantly off to the side. The brightness of her amusement remained, however, keeping her cool maroon eyes suffused with silent energy.

This feels nice, he thought to himself, glad to feel the excitement of something as simple as flirting with a friend, however unexpected it was. Even the thought of their conversation being a secret kept from the others made Spike's stomach jump with enthusiasm. This feels really nice.

"Anyway..." he started.

"Anyway," she conceded.

"How are you doing, Dash?" Spike asked earnestly, pulling himself closer towards his friend. "Anything bugging you?"

As Dash moved closer to the center to allow him more space, Spike snatched a throw pillow from the rear of the bed and, lying down, hugged it to his chest. She had to resist laughing at the sight, as though Spike was preparing himself for a gossip session as prepubescent schoolgirls were known to do.

"Well, like I said, I'm doing pretty well for myself," she confessed, finally sobering herself. "I'm in a pretty good place, lately. I've gotten back to talking to both of my parents again, I'm finally balancing my work life and my personal life, and, y'know, things are really just settling into place for me," Dash said with a shrug. "Everything's solid at the moment."

Spike could sense the but in her voice, but ignored it for the moment in favor of the part of her statement that confused him. "'Both of your parents'? Did you only talk to one before?"

Dash coughed, her eyes half closed as she stared at the ceiling. "I went through this period of not talking to either of them," she confessed, now lying back on her back, the side of her arm brushing against Spike's own. "They kind of went through a divorce a couple months ago."

Spike's eyes widened in shock. "Shit, I'm sorry. I didn't know."

Dash grunted, rubbing her chin as she closed her eyes in contemplation. "Would've been pretty weird if you did, since I didn't tell anyone. It's...not the kind of thing I want to publicize, y'know?"

Nodding in understanding, Spike considered Dash's position. It would have been bad enough for anyone to have the unpleasantry of a divorce to become common knowledge; but for such an affair to surface for someone as prominent as Rainbow Dash, a Wonderbolt...the issue would be inseparable from the athlete's own name, a blot on her personal and professional lives that would likely trail the woman herself for years.

Unbeknownst to Spike, the uneasy silence somewhat rankled the woman next to him, until she felt compelled to fill the judgmental silence with talk. "It was a while ago, but...I dunno, I just felt really frustrated with them for it."

Her hands rose, clenching, to the sides of her head, as if she wanted nothing more than to mash her thumbs through her skull and pray they met in the middle. "I know it doesn't make sense, and it isn't fair, but...in my head, I was just like, 'Really? You were already together for twenty-nine years, you couldn't have just stuck it out?' Ooh," she fumed, surprising Spike, "I was so pissed, you have no idea, dude."

Spike turned on his side, his head now resting on the crook of his outstretched arm. As guilty as it made him feel, he found it next to impossible to tear his eyes away from her; agitated as she was, Dash's body heaved with short, angry rasps and the beating of a heart so audible that Spike could hear it even from where he sat.

He noted with detached awe how the young woman's every breath coaxed animation into her limbs; her bicep, which flexed unconsciously with every inhalation, was now only inches from his face, seeming far more toned and developed than Spike remembered.

"Why'd they split?" he finally asked. Spike's gaze darted upward at her face, and seeing how her eyes remained fixed and unseeing towards the ceiling, resumed its guilty tour of her physique.

Dash sighed heavily, too consumed in the memories to feel the eyes chasing the movements of her chest. "Looking back on it," she murmured, voice softening, "I guess it was kind of obvious. My dad was...kind of a big deal back in high school. Cloudsdale is a huge sports city, and he made a name for himself on the team as a wide receiver. Dude was fast."

"As fast as you?" Spike couldn't help but ask.

"Hell no," she answered instantly, not even smiling, as if refusing to indicate the claim was anything less than fact. "If you go to the school gym, my records are still on the wall. I'm a freak of nature."

"You're telling me," the young man jibed lightly, smile widening as he saw the mock-offended pout that stretched over the athlete's face.

"Anyway, he was always making the news for one reason or another, and my mom, she worked at the paper as a photographer. She had already graduated by the time Dad made the team, but they had the alumni connect." She shrugged. "They never said they were a thing, since he was still in school—and a fucking minor to boot—but it's Cloudsdale. He's an athlete, she's got a great rack, everything's cash money."

"But, like, everyone knew they liked each other. They didn't really know how deep things went, but there was this...expectation for them to get hitched right after he graduated. Happens all the time." She turned to Spike, eyes half-closed as if in a wince. "Only, the whole time, Mom was having doubts, y'know? Cloudsdale men, jocks especially, they tend to have...reputations, and shit. Dad was a star, so he was no exception."

As upset as he felt on her behalf, Spike knew that to continue to argue the issue would close her off to him. Swallowing his emotions, he asked, "So what happened?"

"What always happens," she remarked, voice bitter as well as resigned. "He was handsome, she was lonely. Lonely enough to be desperate, and hope that she could change him." Dash held out her hands, counting off each finger sarcastically. "Sex didn't work, so she tried marrying him. That didn't work, so they had me." She scoffed. "As soon as I came kicking and screaming into the world, they finally had something in common that wasn't an orgasm."

Her companion winced at the statement, but said nothing to interrupt.

"And so, it's just," Rainbow said, her frustration getting the better of her as she started to stumble over her words, "my entire childhood, they just focused all of their energy on me. Everything was about what I excelled at, or how I was placing first in track and field, and so on and so on."

"It sounds nice to have people who always have your back," Spike tried earnestly.

"It was suffocating, and it was bullshit," she countered. "It's so obvious now that I'm older, looking back on it. They never fixed the problem, they just pushed it off to the side and pretended like they could just make it—make it not exist anymore, if they just fixated on me, like I was some fucking solution." She barked with laughter. "I can't even fix my own problems, dude."

She sat up on the bed now, scowling. "They couldn't even look me in the eyes when they told me they were calling it quits. They didn't say he cheated, but man, you've never seen a grown man look so bashful—"

"Did you hate him?" Spike asked suddenly, intensely curious.

The question visibly shocked Dash, enough for her to pause mid-rant. "What? No, I..." She sighed. "I wanted to. I really wanted to. But he was still my dad, and my mom, she even asked me not to cut him out of my life." Rainbow Dash clutched her elbows as a shiver visibly ran through her body.

"But then I thought to myself, 'Who the fuck are you to talk? You knew what he was like when you met him, you knew what you were getting into! Who in their right mind would do that to themselves?'" She laughed humorlessly to herself.

As Dash gathered her breath, her body shuddering with emotion, Spike drew himself up next to her. He hugged his knees to his chest as he glanced sideways at her. "That couldn't have been easy."

"It's all bullshit, dude. Don't ever get married."

Spike frowned. "You don't mean that."

Panting, Dash turned slowly to face him. Her small but corded chest heaved from the effort of her vengeful diatribe; her fierce stare bore into Spike's mind, a blunt maroon ray of rage, disillusionment, and the deepest of betrayals. "The worst thing, Spike, the worst thing you can do to a person is stab them in the back."

"You know I'd never do that, Dash."

"I know you won't," she said, without losing any steam. Rainbow prodded him with a pointed finger at the center of his chest. "You got any love for me, or what I stand for, you won't."

For a moment, neither of them spoke, the only noise between them her angry breathing and the dreary humming of an aging lightbulb. Never looking away from Dash, Spike wordlessly leaned against her side, looping one of his arms securely about her shoulders. To his muted surprise, Dash didn't reject his embrace, but instead looped her arms about his neck, his inclined forehead pressing gently into her hair.

The mad dash that was her heartbeat slowed as Rainbow caught her breath, reassured in part by the steadiness of her friend's wide, sturdy chest. She grunted almost wordlessly at the pleasantness of his warmth, until the aimless command of her thoughts drove her to face him fully, sliding into his lap and wrapping her legs firmly around his waist. She neither heard nor felt any protest from Spike; rather, the hard thump of his heart seemed to radiate his acceptance.

"I'm sorry," she muttered. "I didn't really think it was beating me up like that."

"Dash," he said, and the woman couldn't help but notice at this proximity how his voice, now deep and commiseratory, vibrated throughout his body. She realized with an odd satisfaction just how much larger than her he had grown. "Why didn't you—"

By the tone of his voice, Rainbow already knew what he would say. "You don't understand," she groaned, inwardly surprised at the downright pitiful nature of her voice. "I can't, I can't talk with the others about this." The warmth of his chest suffused her now, until Dash could have sworn she felt her sweat drying from pure heat. "They're too close," she murmured, clutching his shoulders tightly.

"What do you mean?" Spike asked. More than hear, she could feel the words reverberating through his throat, almost directly into her own.

He felt her swallow, felt her trepidation, and Spike felt a sudden lurch in his stomach, as if his questions would lead him to unwanted information. In an instant he realized with grim assurance that, if there was a problem between Twilight and her friends, one that had existed before tonight and would endure into the future, the coward in him wanted to remain blissfully unaware of it.

Unknowing of his thoughts, Dash continued, albeit in a lower voice. "Things are different between us," she confessed, burrowing deeper into Spike's embrace. "It feels like...our...places in the group are changing. But no one wants to talk about it. We know it's happening, but we don't know what to do, and no one wants to talk about it."

Spike's confusion was implicit in his silence, and Dash continued, the words spewing out in another nervous, rambling stream of consciousness. The heat of her panting seeped past his shirt, coming quickly now with every unsteady breath.

"AJ and Twilight used to be really close, dude. Like, they used to rely on each other and trust them when it came to making smart decisions, cause they're both leaders. Only now, it's like, they're fighting, but it's not like this argument they have out in the open, it's something that's going on behind the scenes, and no one knows what the fuck happened."

She rubbed her forehead against his shoulder. "And it's like whatever happened tonight is that, it's them blowing up at each other, only before, it was like Twilight was pissed at Applejack for something, and now because of the whole deal with Mac, Applejack is acting like it's her turn to be mad at Twilight. But even I can tell that it's bullshit, because we make jokes about fucking Mac literally all the time, so it's obvious that that's not what she's really mad about. And I'm pissed off because it feels like everyone thinks I'm supposed to be taking Applejack's place in the middle of all this, because now Applejack is all unstable and someone needs to be our rock if she isn't, and I'm the only one with a goddamn backbone anymore."

What the fuck is she saying, Spike wondered to himself.

"And this has to have been going on for weeks, because before this you could just tell that Applejack felt guilty about whatever the fuck she did, because Twilight's been all passive-aggressive towards her since July, only Applejack's acting like she can't help whatever she did, so at the same time she's acting guilty but she's mad at Twilight for making her feel that way."

Spike's brain felt flooded with information he couldn't make sense of, and, the moment of closeness having all but passed, he pulled back from Dash. Going by the look on Rainbow's face, Spike's confusion was evident.

Speaking carefully now, Dash clarified. "Twilight and Applejack are fighting. Twilight feels like Applejack betrayed her, Applejack is upset she betrayed her but also pissed at how she's being treated, so she's a fucking wreck. I have to be the responsible one, no one's communicating in a healthy way, and it is fucking up the group chemistry."

Nodding, Spike felt himself gain control again as he patiently decided to grasp each concept in the sequence presented to him. "Well, what about the others?"

"Well," Dash sighed, standing up on the bed and pacing, "that's a whole other deal. I think Fluttershy is mostly alright. Better than alright, actually; she's finally starting to be more aggressive with going after what she wants. She's got," Rainbow scrunched her face, hands clenching as if twisting some unseen object, "she's got more of a presence to her now, if that makes sense. Rarity...I don't think she's changed much either, but I could be wrong. Lately she plays the serious stuff to the chest, but I'm pretty sure she and Shy are closer than the rest of us."

"Maybe they're rubbing off on each other," Spike joked, turning onto his back.

Rainbow Dash paused in her pacing. "That...would make a lot of sense, actually." She plopped down near the headboard, crossing her arms over her chest. "It would explain why Rarity hasn't been so flamboyant recently."

"And Pinkie?"

A deep sigh escaped Dash's lips. "I think Pinkie's depressed, dude," the athlete confessed, rubbing the bridge of her nose.

This prompted Spike to sit up in place, eyes widened in shock. "What?" He scooted over to Dash's side, looking down at her in disbelief.

Dash leaned against the headboard, arms looped behind her head. Speaking in a low voice, she spoke slowly, saying, "Don't tell her I told you this—matter of fact, don't even act different. She'll know just from feeling you out." She shrugged erratically. "I don't even know why, or what's even up with her. Guessing's the most anyone can do until she comes out and tells us."

"She's your best friend, Dash," Spike commented, a note of chastisement entering his voice. "And you don't have the slightest clue what's eating her?"

Dash glared at him out of the corner of her eye. "Like I said, guessing is the best I can do. But if you ask me? She's probably upset about getting older or some shit." Her gaze returned to some far off point in the distance, her eyes becoming unfocused. "I mean, I can't speak for anyone else, but after a certain point, shit starts to wear on you. Parents are getting older, family members start dying off—you know the deal."

"I don't, actually," Spike reminded her, but Dash's only response was a shrug.

"Well, it makes sense to me, her folks are almost in their seventies after all. Maybe I'm wrong, or maybe I'm right. Who knows? It's not like Pinkie's ever been easy to read." She took another sip from her tequila. "But I know for a fact Applejack is going through it."

"What makes you so sure?"

"She wants kids, dude. Said so herself."

Spike had to stop himself from collapsing. The sudden thought of Applejack having children—or any of his friends, really—terrified him beyond reason.

Though he could rationalize the desire as being consistent with the woman's lifestyle and goals, the thought of their lives being so different now that being a parent was even an option...how could anyone speak so plainly about it? They all still had so much growing to do, didn't they?

"Applejack's mom was nineteen when she was married, and she was on her second kid by the time she was AJ's age," Dash mentioned. "When my mom was my age, she was already married and pregnant too." She rubbed her chin, frowning. "So I understand the pressure."

Somehow, Spike could understand their plight; while he grew in experience and successes by leaps and bounds over time, those first years of being a newcomer to Ponyville were long behind him. The thought that his youth would never return to him once lost was a disturbing reality; the realization that he would eventually be expected to serve as caretaker of both his own children as well as his aging mentors was another.

An uneasy feeling welled up in Spike's stomach, churning in his bowels with uncomfortable heat. "I didn't think you'd want kids, Dash," he answered honestly, hoping to distract his emotions. "You don't seem like the type."

"I'm actually pretty open to kids," she replied, still leaning back into the pillows, unaware of her listener's widened gaze. "People assume I'm not, and I can see why, but nah, that's not me, man. I could go either way, depending on the guy." Dash looked over at Spike briefly. "It's gonna hurt like hell if I go through with it, though; my hips are all wrong for kids."

Spike blinked in surprise at the news. He was shocked, but...pleasantly so.

Immediately, he stomped the unwanted satisfaction out of his mind, before his subconscious could find its root. Those were dangerous thoughts.

"I think Fluttershy and AJ are the only ones who actually actively want kids. Right now at least. I think Rarity just wants to be an aunt, but she hasn't really settled yet. Career woman and all."

"Twilight doesn't want kids," Spike said automatically, still wandering in his thoughts.

"Tell me something I don't know," Dash muttered. "Still, though," she continued, frown widening, "it sucks. It's like, I'm not in a hurry to get married or anything, but at the same times it's like there's this pressure bearing down on me. Like, there's a feeling that gets me sometimes, telling me that I'm running out of time, that I'm as young as I'm ever going to get. And I have to force myself to stop thinking about it, or I'll just be in this endlessmindset that I have to play catch-up to everyone."

Despite his partner's evident stress, Spike couldn't help but feel as though his entire understanding of Rainbow had shifted with each small revelation. He realized now that his assumptions of her personal life—limited as they were—reflected nothing of the woman herself, only what his understanding of her brash exterior had led him to believe.

And if the thought of her youth running out was so draining on someone like Rainbow Dash, who rarely if ever concerned herself with thoughts of the future beyond her career, Spike could only imagine how it would eat away at someone like Pinkie...or Applejack.

"Do you know what you want in a guy?" he asked suddenly, without thinking.

As soon as the words left his mouth, before Dash could even blink in surprise and reevaluate the young man whose bed she was sprawled across, Spike wanted more than anything to slam his head face-first into the wall for asking such a thick-headed, tactless question.

What the fuck is wrong with me, he groaned internally.

Eyeing him, Dash sat up in place—and to Spike's regret, retracted her legs into a chest-hugging embrace. "I have an idea," she said, brushing her hair back behind her ear and swallowing. "I mean, usually I would, from talking about it with the girls, but, y'know. Iffy subject as of late."

Spike made to speak, before deciding not to trust his mouth. Instead, he settled for clamping his lips shut and nodding lamely.

"Listen, Spike," she said, rubbing her neck and looking away, "this is getting kind of personal."

Frowning, he cleared his throat. "Right, I get it. Let's change the subject."

Rainbow turned back to face him. "No," she held up her hands, "that's not what I meant." She bit the inside of her cheek, obviously wrestling with some inner thought, before coming to some silent resolution. "Look, I don't mind talking to you about this stuff. Hell, I'm enjoying it, like, a lot." She sat up in her seat, unfolding her legs and holding up two fingers. "Two things, though."

"Sure," Spike said, a little too quickly, and perhaps too hopeful at her openness.

"One," she said, pulling on her index finger. "Outside of the seven of us, you don't tell anyone about this." Dash held his gaze pointedly here, watching for any hint of disloyalty.

"Dragon's honor," he pledged, hand over heart.

Seemingly satisfied, Dash continued, tugging on the second finger. "Two. In the interest of fairness, you answer the same questions I do."

At this, Spike blinked. "Oh."

Dash's confidence wavered, and a note of hesitance that hadn't been there before was now present. "What is it?" The fear of having gone too far was implicit in her voice.

"Nothing," Spike said, crossing his legs. "It's just, no one ever asks anything about me. I'm flattered."

"Dude. Your love life must suck."

"You think?"

Shaking her head to clear her mind of thoughts, Dash placed her hands on her knees and leaned forward. "Alright. So." She cleared her throat. "My type."

"Are you the type to wear the pants in a relationship?"

Rainbow snorted. "Hell no, dude. I may be a hardass, but when I'm a girlfriend, it's a 50/50 split." She flipped her hair over her shoulder. "I don't want a guy who won't pull his own weight."

Spike nodded in understanding. "But, I mean..." He lowered his voice, almost to a whisper. "You're a dom, right?"

Smiling down at her lap, as though she expected this question, Rainbow shook her head. "Nah, dude."

"Dash," came the unbelieving gasp.

"Total sub."

"Bullshit," Spike exclaimed, rolling up to his knees even as Rainbow chuckled. "There's no way. You're way too prideful."

"Too prideful to do what?" Dash asked, still smiling. "To let my boyfriend climb on top of me? I don't think so."

"I don't believe you. At best you'd be putting up with it."

"Let's say you and me were dating," Dash challenged, leaning forward with a smug grin that bled even into her speech. "If there was one way to get me in the mood, it would be you climbing on top of me and pinning me to the bed. I love that shit."

At her explanation, Spike paused, face scrunched in disbelief. "Wait, why?"

"Look, dude. I'm small. No one knows that better than me." Dash held her hands out to the side. "I like my men tall, I like them strong, and I like feeling secure when I'm around them. Can I handle myself?" She shrugged, rolling her eyes. "Of course I can. But just because I'm a badass, that doesn't mean I want to be on all the time. You feel me?"

Spike shrugged in return. "I guess." He couldn't resist the next jibe that came to mind: "So you get off on cuddling?"

Rainbow raised an eyebrow. "If 'get off' is what you took from that, then either you're a dumbass, or I explained it wrong. I like security, Spike. And for me, that's coming home after a long day, passing the fuck out on my bed, and having a big, meaty security blanket with a nice dick draped over me."

Face coloring at the statement, Spike nodded sheepishly. "Why do you think that is?"

She groaned. "I don't know, Spike. I try not to think about this stuff unless I have to. Maybe...I dunno, growing up the way I did, I didn't really get physical affection the way I should've. Aside from my parents, at least, I kind of kept pushing people away." She rubbed her knee, looking past Spike almost shamefully.

"When I became friends with Twilight and everyone else, it was like this need I never knew I had was finally being met, and I didn't know how starved I felt until I had someone holding me. Only, my pride wouldn't let me admit it, and I had to grow out of this mindset that said 'tough girls don't need it, we can get by without.'"

Dash huffed, the air blowing her hair out from over her eyes. "Yeah fucking right. Acting tough is fine and all, but if you have to isolate yourself for the sake of your pride, it isn't worth it." She rubbed her jaw. "Win all the awards you want, have your face plastered on posters in every city. Put your name in the history books. But even if you put all the hours in, if you take off at the end of the night, and you come home to no one for years...sooner or later you might just hate the life you've made for yourself."

At the end of her soft tirade, Rainbow turned to her companion, surprised to find the young man cowed into silence.

"Sorry," she grumbled, rubbing her hand against a temple. "I know that wasn't what you asked about, it's just...when you don't talk about this sort of stuff, and you only ever get to rehearse what you'd say if someone gave enough of a shit to ask, it just sort of tumbles out, I guess."

"I get it, Dash," Spike said, rubbing her knee empathetically. "Believe me, I get it."

Dash spared him a grateful, vulnerable smile, free of arrogance or malice. In that same instant, Spike felt a wave of heat and want flush throughout his body, and he had the strangest compulsion to tell her that she'd make an amazing mother if she so chose. He knew without thinking that anyone as vibrant and courageous as she would bear that same smile even when her brilliant hair would have long since faded into a flaxy thinning silver.

I want that, he thought to himself dazedly, chest heaving as he lamented how rare a delight Dash's smile of mere positivity was. I want to live in that feeling.

"All my life, I had this goal, this...dream, pushing me to be the best I could be. And when I got it, when I actually became a Wonderbolt, oh, believe me, I had never been so happy. It—it was like I just knew that was were I was meant to be, and I hit that goal, I made my dream come true." Her smile was just shy of beaming, and was so infectious that Spike had to bury his own dopey grin under his arms. "But...that's the thing," she said softly, falling back against the headboard. "People change, and you get new dreams."

"What do you want now?" Spike asked, voice equally soft.

"What don't I want?" she asked, half-sarcastically. "I want to fix my parents, I want to fix my friends, I want to leave this dump better than I found it when I die. But mostly?" She sighed. "I think I just want to come home to noise in my house."

With her explanation, Spike felt his connection to Dash widen, moreso than he ever recalled it being in recent memory. Given his upbringing, and his closeness to Twilight—emotionally as well as physically—he realized with gratitude that that particular deficit was one he never had to deal with. Rarely was the day where the two didn't exchange at least the touch on an arm, or a loose but sincere embrace about the shoulder, or even a hello.

It wasn't the same, he realized, not for what Dash intended, but for him—for the moment—it was enough.

"Other than that," Dash continued, snapping Spike out of his trance, "I really don't have much of a type. Just loyal and dominant, I guess. Everything else, I have to look at on a case-by-case basis." She nudged Spike with her foot. "What about you?"

Spike rubbed his neck, grimacing as he tried to gather his thoughts to follow Dash's impromptu speech. "Honestly, I'm not too sure, since I never really talk about it." He sighed. "Confidence is a big deal for me, and I guess assertiveness too."

Out of his line of sight, Dash smirked. "Now why does that sound familiar?"

Spike rolled his eyes but didn't contest her self-aggrandizing point. "I grew up surrounded by authority figures, most of which were women. I'm guessing that maybe it kind of had an affect on what I like."

Dash's smile lessened. "So, what? You're a sub too?"

"I guess?" Spike confirmed, rolling his shoulders. "I don't know. I feel like I could be more assertive if it felt right, but...I just really like the thought of someone telling me what to do sometimes."

"I get that," Dash affirmed. "Power can be sexy."

"It's...not just power, not really," Spike confessed, rolling his thumbs together in a thoughtful cycle.

Rainbow's interest was piqued by the confession. "What do you mean?" she said with an enthusiastic whisper, leaning closer.

Spike's mouth was nearly a flat line, his face flushed cherry red with embarrassment. His voice became quieter, as if he feared eavesdroppers. "Look," he said hurriedly, his voice almost frantic with nervousness, "I don't know if it's because of how I was raised, or if it's instinctual, I don't know what it is. And it's never happened before, but I just know that if it did happen..."

He took a moment to catch his breath, Dash's laser-focused gaze on his face a distracting intruder in the forefront of his mind. The shift in weight on the mattress was the only indication that she had slid ever so closely to him.

"It's like a...compulsion, I guess," he spoke, voice low and composed. "But, sometimes, if it's a woman in charge who I admire, I feel like...I dunno, she deserves me. I just know she could be like, 'Hey, you belong to me now. Go clean my kitchen, make my dinner, and screw me before 8 tonight.' And I'd just be like, 'Well, I had plans, but she said so, so I gotta', or whatever. I wouldn't even question it."

Rainbow Dash held a throw pillow to her chest, mouth ajar in delighted surprise. "Oh, wow. I never would've guessed that about you." She continued to ponder his words for several moments, conscious of Spike's wary eyes on her face. "Wait, so what if it was someone you knew?"

"Someone like who?"

Dash shrugged. "I dunno." She snapped her fingers. "The mayor."

Spike rolled his eyes. "As if. She's an authority figure, sure, but it's not the same. Just because you hold power, it isn't the same as taking power. You have to be assertive, maybe even arrogant."

Rainbow's confusion was evident. "She ran for office, dude. That's 'taking power' for me."

"She was elected. Not the same thing."

"Well, what about Twilight? She wasn't elected; she wasn't even royalty."

Spike paused, considering the question. As he did so, Rainbow studied his face, noting with interest how the question hadn't disgusted him in the slightest; at most, it only stymied him.

"Twilight wouldn't do something like that," he finally decided. "Even if she could get over how weird that would make things between us, it wouldn't be in her character. She's not the aggressive type when it comes to guys."

Dash was becoming visibly irritated with each deflection; it was obvious that she had expected him to answer the question regardless, rather than avoiding the heart of the issue with his rationalizations.

"But even if she was," he started, cutting off her annoyed retort, "I don't think it would work. I can't really see myself with someone who doesn't want to start a family." Spike shrugged. "Knowing Twilight, she'd be fine with just the two of us in this big, empty castle."

The frustration was slow in passing from Rainbow's face, but her silence was evidence enough that she could understand where he was coming from. "You want kids that badly?"

"Have you met me?"

Dash frowned. "But even if you do find—when you do find someone, I mean, it's not like Twilight would want to play babysitter, or have toddlers screaming down the hall in the middle of the night."

"This castle...it's beautiful, but it's lonely, too. It isn't right for raising children," Spike agreed, leaning further against his arms, which lay crossed against his upraised knees. "I know that. Sooner or later I'm going to have to leave here and find my own place."

The athlete's stomach dropped for her friend's sake. After all these years, the thought of one day coming to the Castle of Friendship and finding Spike's room empty was bad enough; the thought of Twilight living without her most constant companion was very nearly unthinkable to her.

"Are you mad at me?"

Rainbow flinched at the question, her arms and pillow falling into her lap from shock. "No, dude. Why would you think that?"

Spike looked guiltily over his knees at his guest, eyes unfocused. "You had this intense look on your face. You're going to tell me that I should stick by her, no matter what. That that's what a real friend would do."

Though she was late in replying, Dash's continued silence wasn't a result of surprise, but of remorse. She had to wonder what she had done, what Spike had seen in her to think that she was capable of such blind loyalty.

Maybe in the past, what Spike had said wouldn't have been outside the realm of possibility...but then again, who was he to know? Her individual growth was rarely the kind that could be externalized.

"I think," she said steadily, shuffling heels first to the edge of the bed, "I need another drink." Spike grunted in the affirmative as she reached the floor.

After being stationary for so long, as well as having the previous drink still seep through her system, Dash braced herself for awkward movement. Thankfully, her legs were still capable of supporting her weight; the coldness of the hard crystal floor even helped to sober her muscles, which had suffered the familiar feeling of hot, hard-packed sand from falling asleep as well as the jerky, unreliable sluggishness born from drinking alcohol on a mostly empty stomach.

Regardless, she made her way to the bookshelf well enough for anyone in her condition. Squinting through the increasingly pervasive darkness—Spike's lamp formed only a modest yellow circle to the center of the bed, leaving the man himself lit only to his stomach—Rainbow found the stack of books concealing the hidden nook and brushed them aside.

Struggling to see over the lip of the cove due to her height, Dash had to resort to searching for the pack of tequila by hand, hoping that her stubby digits would brush against the cool aluminum by chance. She was sorely tempted to hover, so she might increase her field of vision, but she didn't trust her sense of balance, and was sure she'd give herself a concussion if she wasn't careful.

"Do you want some—"

"No," Dash grunted sharply, still struggling to find her target. Part of her thought to apologize to Spike for being so irritated with him for only offering to help; then she remembered that she was wearing track shorts and bending forty-five degrees directly in his line of sight, and reasoned that the view was apology enough.

Her hand passed over what felt like a box made of thin cardboard covered in plastic and dust. Curious, Dash pulled the box to the front of the cove, during which her arm touched a sliver of metal. She groaned to herself, her search now seeming meaningless; the cans, though out of her sight, had been the closest to the edge.

Pulling both the drinks and box to the edge, Dash breathed a sigh of relief. Navigating herself down from the shelf carefully, she reached back for the retrieved items when she was safely on the floor. As she popped open the thin aluminum can, she squinted down at the mysterious box while trudging back to the bed, trying in vain to read the text through the veil of darkness blanketing the room. It was only when she entered the circle of light emanating from the lamp that she could make out anything on the packaging.

Several things happened at once.

Rainbow hadn't given much thought to what the box might contain, but a twenty-four count of lubricated condoms definitely hadn't been one of her expectations. Her mouth gaped in open-mouthed shock, and Dash staggered backward, stunned.

An angry voice cried out towards the end of the hall, followed by a slamming door and the heavy pounding of feet down the staircase. The sound further startled Dash, whose head snapped in the direction of the sound, her face heavy with worry. In her confusion, both hands unclenched, after which the open can fell to the floor, dousing the girl in pungent alcohol in short order.

"Fuck," Dash cursed, alternating indecisively between patting down the moisture on her legs and struggling not to trip over the puddle of liquor at her feet. Eventually she decided to solve both problems at the same time, by means of whipping off her tank top and mopping up both messes.

And between the bruises, old and new, the sculpted muscles of her abdomen, chest, and biceps, and the taut but modest dark blue sports bra spanning her pectorals, Spike found it quite impossible to turn away from the sight.

If Dash had any misgivings about being half-naked in front of her friend, she betrayed none of them, instead scowling at the wasted alcohol lying at her feet.

Rainbow's fingers closed hesitantly around both the ruined can and the box, which she held at arm's length. "Just when I thought tonight couldn't get any worse," she muttered to herself, tossing her dirtied shirt off to an unlit corner of the room.

As she sat down near the middle of the bed, Dash only just started to process the stunned look on her companion's face Spike's eyes flicked erratically from her bare skin to the box of contraceptives in her hand, and Dash realized too late how things must look.

Even as they heard voices gathering outside the door, hands pulling on the worn crystal doorknob, Rainbow started to understand just how soon she had spoken.

Hey everyone.

Sorry for the delay, but if you follow me on Fimfiction you'll know what's up. I have a blog over there explaining the slog in production as well as the future of my work.

Basically, I'm able to start writing again, and I've set up a for anyone who's interested in having a say in what I write next. In the first month since I launched it, I've had one patron, which means since I'm doing both Patron-requested stories as well as voted stories, he's getting two stories for $15. If you're interested, visit /unsmiley for details.

If you don't care about this, don't worry! After this info has been up for a while, I'm moving it to my author's page for those of you who want a seamless ePub after the story is done.

Later,

Mr. Unsmiley