Far From Home

by The Grimm Reaper

Rating: teen
Tags: Dark, Romance, Slice of Life, Sad
Length: 1492

Spike has returned from an epic war with more scars than medals, and things are worse than ever between himself and the others. His friendships are damaged and his relationship is failing. Can they all be fixed, or will they remain broken forever?

Not part of the Darkness Trilogy or a Sparity ship

It’s been Several years since the degradation of the Elements of Harmony. After news broke out that the Elements were no longer functional, chaos the likes of which would bring tears of joy to Discord’s eyes broke out throughout the surrounding lands of Equestria. Celestia had asked the dragons for aid and Spike had gone to join in the war effort, leaving his friends and family behind to protect them.
Now he’s back, sporting injuries and scars that will never heal no matter how much time he has. Spike survived the most horrific war imaginable to come back to his family, but the price seems too steep for Twilight and the others.

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2013-03-27 18:20:02 UTC

Prologue

((Spike))

Growing up, I read a lot of books about war. I thought I understood how things were. You follow orders, kill a few bad guys and everyone’s home for lamb and steak. I had this mindset when I left my home to join the war effort. There were bits the stories left out, even the life stories of real soldiers who returned alive and well (for the most part) from the war. I learned what those things were on my first day. It isn’t a story, it isn’t a game. Once you kill an enemy, it’s game over, you can’t wait for the game to end before starting again. In Chess, you lose some pieces, but you have the potential to get some pieces back. Once again, reality deprives us of this. Life is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, and it’s squandered on political greed that forces us, the soldiers, the heroes and survivors to suffer the consequences.

My first day out, I lost three comrades in my squad. It wasn’t our Commander’s fault, the intelligence was shoddy at best, we had to improvise. Among the three we lost that day, one of them was my newest friend. A young dragon like me, going to war to protect the ones he loved. Unlike most dragons, he didn’t seem to mind that I was raised by ponies, that I’d fallen in love with ponies. The Alliance of the two species shortly before the war no doubt had a hand in helping him to accept that.

A month into the war, I saw seventy-two of my fellow soldiers, pony and dragon alike fall to their deaths. Some had lost the use of their wings in the air, others were shot down, and those were just the aerial squads.

Within a year, I’d been promoted to Commander simply because I seemed to know what I was doing when it came to Survival. I was placed in command of fifteen new recruits fresh off the kiln. Almost half of them didn’t make it. Another quarter of the remaining squad suffered from shock and were hospitalised in the aftermath of that single battle. Left with four soldiers; a Unicorn, a Pegasus and two Dragons, I somehow managed to take a Changeling stronghold.

Three years into my Command, my small team had hardened into real dependable ponies and dragons whom many had come to respect and idolise, especially the newest recruits. I’d been given the rank of General and my Primary Command were the four teammates I’d helped raise to Captainhood, each with their own new squadrons ranging in the dozens.

By the fifth year, I’d become a War Hero, the symbol of our overpowering force. My spare time reading military tactics and similar books in the past helped me to change my view of the war. I began to see it once more as a game. The chess pieces from the pawns to the Knights were expendable and replaceable. My superiors were the kings and queens, and my fellow Generals and I were the Bishops. My team alone were the Rooks, never wavering, always digging straight in.

On the sixth year, I’d turned into something the enemy feared to challenge. Word of my presence alone gave us more territory over them as they fled. It was shortly after then that their fear had manifested into a survival instinct and they began to target me specifically. With me out of the picture, the morale of the other soldiers would disappear and the enemy would take back what was once theirs and then some.

One attack almost worked. I’d recalled my fleet from the front lines to go over a new battle plan. It took us some time to realise Changelings were among us, disguised as soldiers no-one had seen go down. I was badly beaten, but still fit for duty by the end of the attack.

It wasn’t until the seventh and final year of the war where I fell harder than I ever thought I could. Captured along with my original team who had been assigned to escort me to my new base, we were tortured beyond imagination and description, and I was forced to watch as one by one, my team died out from exhaustion, fatigue and blood loss.

I’ve been told I won the war by somehow escaping my bonds and killing the Changeling Queen, officially ending the alliance the changelings had made with the other species, but I must have blacked out by then for I could only remember waking up in a hospital bed with restraints wrapped around my body. With our sheer numbers, we forced the enemy into surrendering and peace once again reigned supreme, with the afterglow of tension between the species.

Now I was headed home, my mind, body and soul a shadow of what it once was. I always thought I would be excited to see Twilight and the others again, but I couldn’t really feel anything; not happiness, nor sorrow, anger or love. I was truly burned alive by the fires of war and I could tell I’d never be the same again, but I held onto the hope that perhaps they could change me back at least part way.

“So, I hear you’re one of them pony-hatched dragons. Very rare for your kind to be raised outside of the original clutch.” a random passenger said from across the military train. I didn’t bother to look at him as I found more interest in the ant that had somehow made its way onto the moving train.

“Hey, I’m talkin’ to you!” the passenger said again, his voice slightly raised. He sounded drunk. It made sense; he wasn’t driving the train and he no doubt had his share of troubles regarding the war too. What I wouldn’t have given to be in the same drunken stupor he was in now. I might have actually tried to provoke a fight out of him just to try and entertain myself.

“You deaf or what?” the passenger said once more, evidently closer than before.

“Leave him alone, Glaze! That’s General Spike, the one who turned the tables of the war. He won’t answer you anyway, he can’t speak.” another passenger, a female by the sound of it defended me from a physical confrontation. Clearly, my name and rank still held power, even over the drunk.

“Well how’d he get to be a General if he can’t talk?” the male asked. Judging by the name, I guessed he was another dragon, like me, only with feeling.

“That’s none of your business, but if you must know, he lost his voice after he won the war. That’s all I’m saying.” the female replied. I heard claw marks tap against the floor as they moved away from me and toward the source of the second voice.

“Tha’s, all you’re sayin’? You don’t talk much… do ya, girl? I bet you do other things with your mouth. C’mere.” he began.

“Ew! Celestia no! Three reasons; One, I’m not into dragons. Two, you’re drunk. And three, Celestia no!” the female replied, rather disgustedly. From what happened next, I imagined what would happen next.

“Don’t knock it ‘til you try it darling’.” the dragon tried to coax her.

“What part of ‘no’ didn’t you understand?” the mare demanded.

“Why, the part where I give a damn.” he replied. I might not have been able to feel anything, but I was not willing to test the limits of such a theory when Anger was the first potential thing to enter my mind. I stood up from my seat and timed the brakes of the train perfectly. I jumped forward, grabbed a hold of the balancing aids attached to the roof and swung my body forward, booting the drunk dragon away from the resistant mare. He went flying easily across the car, landing unconscious against the front doorway.

“Thanks, the guy was a prick.” the mare said. I nodded solemnly and grabbed my duffel bag from the overhead rack, slung it over my shoulder and departed just before the train stopped to a halt on Ponyville Station. There was a Military dragon waiting there for me. He addressed me directly and offered me what I was waiting for; my cane. Now I felt like a bucking war hero. Nonetheless, I thanked him and dismissed him, using the cane to relieve the weight on my slightly injured leg. In hindsight, I was lucky my kick to that drunken dragon hadn’t injured it further. I looked around for any sign of my friends, but found nothing other than a semi-empty station. Ponyville station was hardly crowded at the best of times.

“Home sweet home.” I uttered with a sigh, adding more weight on the cane as I made my trek to the familiar tree whose branches stuck out even over the roof of the station. It was one big ass tree.