White Veil

Spike lied on his bed, eyes closed, earbuds turned up to max volume. He listened intently to one of the thousands of metal bands he had saved to his phone. This was the norm in the passing hours of his day-to-day life. The last nine years of his life had been an unusual experience to say the least. He gradually lost interest in hanging around other people. Other than helping Twilight and Flash around the house, most of his time was spent sleeping. Even his gaming habits had severely diminished. Twilight believed these changes to be symptoms of depression, but Spike quickly put those concerns to rest. He pointed out to her that other than his mellower attitude, nothing else had changed. There were no outbursts of irritability, and he wasn't going out of his way to isolate himself. More than anything, it all seemed to boil down to happenstance - a sort of natural progression which resulted from mundane environmental factors. Still, the dragon couldn't deny that something felt like it was missing; like part of him was incomplete in some way. This is what he often pondered.

A little later in the day, Spike left his room. He knocked on Twilight's door.

"Come in."

Spiked creaked open the door and peeked through.

"I'm going out for a bit. I'll be back soon."

"Where are you going?"

"Rarity's. Wondering if she might be able to help me get out of this funk I'm in."

"We'll be making dinner soon."

"I'll be back before then."

"Alright."

"See ya' later."

He returned the door to its original position.

Spike entered through the door of Rarity's design shop. He didn't see anyone around.

"Is she in the back?"

No sooner had the thought crossed his mind when she surprised him from the the side room.

"Spike! It's so good to see you, darling!"

"Hey, Rarity."

"How long has it been?"

"Two months, I think?"

"Right - when you came to pick up those bandages for Fluttershy. How is she faring?"

"Pretty good, last I knew."

"Good to hear. So, what brings you here on this lovely day?"

"I was hoping for some advice."

"Really?"

"You're well-versed in matters of the heart, right?"

"Well, I do rather pride myself on my knowledge of such affairs. Is there some special lady you're trying to captivate?"

"Not at the moment, but it's something I've been wondering about. My interest in dating and stuff like that never really surged like most peoples' when I was a teenager."

"Yes. Your libido in particular was unusually low for a dragon."

"Yeah..."

"By any chance...Was it because of what happened between us...?"

"I don't think so. I knew that was a long shot from the start. Looking back on it now, I think it was more infatuation than compatible attraction."

"Then...What do you suppose it could be?"

"Twilight thinks depression, but that doesn't sound right either."

"I would think not. You're strong, handsome, kind, well-off, and you possess an ever-expanding array of skills. In general terms, you are the absolute embodiment of many women's fantasies."

"What should I do?"

"Perhaps a more proactive approach couldn't hurt."

"Proactive in what way?"

"Well, in my own experience, women feel most comfortable talking to men in social settings."

"I follow you so far."

"We tend to fancy attentive listeners who are able to contribute to conversations when needed."

"So basically the guy initiates the conversation, the woman responds, and the guy follows suit?"

"That seems to be social convention. Don't be surprised if it feels rather awkward, especially the first time around."

"I'll give it a try."

"Just try to relax and let things flow as naturally as possible."

"Thanks, Rarity."

"Of course. Feel free to drop by anytime if you need more advice."

"I will."

Over the next several days, Spike hung around the local clubs and public events which occasionally ran through town. However, his indifference quickly transformed into anxiety. As a child, it was second nature for him to interact with people outside his usual circle, but later down the road, he was given a harsh reminder that randomly chatting with a stranger was often considered unnerving by many. Given that he wasn't a consumer of alcohol by trade, there was little to ease the discomfort of a first conversation. As a result, he kept to himself the entire time. Being alone with his thoughts was where he felt most at ease. He eventually ended up visiting Rarity again. Upon entering the shop, he patiently waited for the sole customer to exit before speaking.

"How did it go," the unicorn asked.

Spike shook his head.

"I couldn't do it, Rarity. It's too weird, especially nowadays."

"Why do you say that?"

"The world's changed since we were younger. Bothering random people, regardless of the context or environment, isn't looked on very kindly anymore. Common courtesy dictates minding your own business, ya' know?"

"I see."

"So...What now?"

"I'm rather stumped myself. This is quite the paradox we've found ourselves in. I never considered the possibility social anxiety was linked to moral principles."

"Hm..."

Rarity weighed her options.

"I have an idea."

Rarity disappeared into the back room. Seconds later, she returned levitating a dark brown book.

"Give this a read."

"'Thorns of Drusilla...?"

"Romance novels are popular among a variety of demographics. Perhaps learning from the mind of another will make the transition easier."

"Would something like this work in real life?"

"There couldn't be any harm in at least giving it a read."

Spike gripped the assortment of pages firmly in his palms.

After dinner, Spike retired to his room. His computer provided the only source of light.

"Guess I should start reading..."

The dragon placed his head against the board of his bed. He opened the first page. Unlike many other books, it did not begin with a preface or message from the author.

"Guess they wanted to draw people in immediately..."

The story was set some time between the dark and medieval ages. It centered around the main character, Drusilla Lynold, a wealthy former governess who had grown bored with her daily life.

"Yep. Classic Rarity."

The first few paragraphs were simple world-building; a monologue by Drusilla which mentioned her forbidden lust for one of her former employers. By the fifth page however, the descriptions became noticeably more...Risque...

"Wait...Huh...?"

Spike quickly closed the book.

"That was unexpected! Um...!"

Unable to comprehend what he had just read, he put the book under his pillow.

"Not talking about this with anybody. No, thank you."

He readjusted his body, pulling the comforter over him.

"Nice prank, Rarity. Not cool..."

He closed his eyes.

"Twilight's gonna' kill me if she finds this..."

Spike called Rarity the next day. It was clear by the tone of his voice he was not amused.

"Hello?"

"Why did you send me home with smut?"

"Forgive me, darling."

"I'm not sure you're understanding the severity of the situation here. Remember what you said before about me being well-off?"

"Yes. I remember."

"This house, that money; it's all Twilight's. I get kicked out of here, I'm not gonna' have anywhere to go."

"Surely she wouldn't react in such an extreme manner."

"Have you met her?"

"You must be privy to her late-night intimacies with Flash by now."

"What they do is none of my concern."

"Calm yourself. I believe I can help you, but I need you to trust me. There is a method to my madness."

"If I get caught, this is on you."

"I'll take full responsibility should the need arise."

Spike sighed in relief.

"Thank you."

"Finish the book. This is a crucial step."

"Fine. Whatever."

"Please, don't be too cross with me," Rarity pleaded, "I don't mean you, Twilight, or Flash any harm."

"It's alright...I'm sorry, okay? You're our friend, and I should know better."

"I'll see you soon."

"Yeah..."

Spike hung up. He held the phone against his brow. He felt ashamed of himself for his behavior.

"Damn, man..."