A/N: This is a bit of a re-write of "Learning from Lorne" But don't turn
away just yet, It's been added to, and worked on! I hope you like it. This
is the longest Chapter yet, I'm sure. Also.... I will be adding on what
Spike is doing while Eliza is getting plastered. :) Hope you like it, Read
and Review, It's what makes me live and breathe, I promise I'll update more
often if you give me lots of reviews!
We hit a few bars. Nothing too exciting, at least not to me. I spent most of my time at the bar, just drowning, like I usually do. Beth and Manny got a few numbers. All night I day dreamed, that someone would come and rescue me, I got to the point I didn't care who it was. Spike. My ex. Either one, didn't matter to me, I just wanted to be saved from the hell I was living. I downed a few shots of something, the bartender seemed to think it would help to dull it all. It never did. Not even after a whole bottle, no one came. It seemed to just sharpen the pain.
We returned to the motel, and I perched on the balcony, hoping to see him staggering in, like I had done. I wanted it all to happen again. He'd ask me for a smoke, I'd give him one, and we'd end up in his room again. I discovered then that what I had really came to LA for was a distraction. Anything. Booze, Boys, at this point I'd settle for a knife through the foot. Something else to focus on for a while.
After One or so, I meandered down to the front office. I wasn't clear on why, but the memories of that night still aren't the sharpest ever. I wanted someone to tell me I'd be okay, and when they said it, I wanted to be able to believe them. I leaned over the desk and looked at the night clerk.
"Hello." I said slurring my words slightly. I swayed and held onto the counter for dear life. "Do you have any messages for room 235?" The clerk searched frantically. I could tell he was frightened, and probably thought I was some drunk bum that had come in to stab him for his money.
"Let me check." He dissappeared for a moment returning with a slip of white paper. He handed it over warily. "Yes, there you are." I sighed deeply, hiccuped and read the note.
"Eliza-
Thank you for dealing with my pain.
I will be returning soon to LA but
had some unfinished business in
Sunnydale. Please be here when I
return.
-Love
Spike"
I smiled and thanked the clerk. How long would he be? I couldn't wait in this motel forever. I shook my head feeling slightly deluded. I could wait as long as I could, but forever. My mind flashed to our earlier interlude in the hotel. I had laid on the floor in my room. We were friends, we cried together for our lost loves, and our potential one.
I didn't know what to think, where to go, what to do. I wandered the sidewalks of LA until I found a bar. Caritas. The name confused me, but confusing me wasn't hard to do at this point. I entered completely sullen, and ready for something to take me away.
I entered in, taking a seat at the bar, listening to a group of rather odd looking people try and croon on the karaoke machine. Weary, I let my head rest on the bar. Something about this bar spoke to me. I didn't know what at first; maybe it was the karaoke, I had an affinity for singing even though I'm never on tune. This was no exception.
I stood on stage looking out on the crowd, for some reason the odd faces in the audience didn't scare me. I thumbed casually through the catalogue unsure of what to sing. My finger rested on a random song. I felt a flood of irony was through me as the soft strains of R.E.M.'s "Everybody Hurts" began and the lyrics appeared on the small screen in front of me. I didn't need them, the words seemed to be my own. All the same I stared mindlessly into the glowing box. "Everybod-y-y-y hu-u-u-urts S-o-o-o-o-mmmmmetimes-s. . . ." I slurred the words as they happily taunted my splintered life.
The bartender placed the tequila bottle softly on the counter, making my ears ring endlessly. I sat up, looking through the three shot glasses filled to the brim. Carefully I placed the glass to my lips, and downed the first shot and winced as the alcohol burned it's way to my stomach. I tapped the bar to signify to the peculiar bartender that it was time for a refill. I became aware of a man in a white suit sitting next to me. I kept my position on my stool, leaning down to look through the glass as the bartender poured the golden liquid in.
"You have quite a set 'a pipes on ya there sister. . . ." The man signaled to the bartender to refill the second of the three drinks. I allowed a sarcastic tone to fill my voice.
"Thanks, but I only sing while completely smashed, as well as utterly depressed." I nodded to the bartender in thanks, raised my glass in a toast like motion, squeezed a lime into my mouth, and downed the shot. I winced noticeably and shook my head to rid my mouth of the bitter taste. "I'm not interested in a record contract, so you can leave now." The man turned towards me, resting his hand gently over mine.
"Want to know what I heard doll? You might find it more helpful than a bottle of tequila." He met my gaze as I turned to see who he was. Some how I wasn't startled by his red horns, or green skin. In fact I'd have to say his skin was complimented by his stark white suit, not to mention the silk shirt he was wearing. I took this all in quickly, I was all too interested in what he had said.
"So," I said lazily, "what did you hear? The makings of a true diva, cause like I said I'm not interested in a contract." I laughed half heartedly. I waved to the bartender to finish off the bottle. He hesitated looking to the man, and back at the bottle, then to me. The man tapped the glasses and the bartender quickly obeyed.
"On the house." He smiled kindly. "I heard what you know already." He steadied me as I swayed. "That guy just wasn't the one for you, hun." I met his gaze, as I felt my eyes well with tears. "Sh-h. It's okay, Liza! You don't need to worry about the fall, you've already bounced. You've found him. You need to hold on to him, and never let go, no matter what." I nodded absent mindedly. "You understand Eliza? I mean never, no matter what." I nodded again as he slid a card over to me. "My friends call me Lorne." He nodded to the bartender knowingly. "Three more, then call her a cab." I turned carefully, and watched him leave the bar and jump onto the stage casually.
I watched him on stage, relaxed and. . . almost giddy. This whole bar, the whole trip to L.A., was odd. I wasn't uncomfortable, just confused as to what kind of magic had came into my life. Lorne continued the stage show by singing an upbeat tune. I cringed openly as the Vegas style show tune reminded me of my trip there last spring with Jacob. I let my head rest of the bar at an awkward angle. Why had Spike left so suddenly for Sunnydale? I left my head begin to spin. Lorne finished the song with a classic jazz-like wail, and proceeded to stand next to the exit. I swaggered to him.
"Why?" I hiccuped and stumbled over my own feet. Lorne reached out to steady me again. "Why does it hurt?" I tapped my chest as I felt the tears begin. "Right here, all the time. . ." I sobbed. "So much. He slept with my best friend. I gave him it all. My heart, my time. . ." I tried to blink back the tears unsuccessfully. As Lorne stared down at me, I felt his empathy warm me.
"I know it hurts doll. I can see it." He stroked my hair gently. "I know exactly everything you gave to him," Lorne sighed heavily. "He didn't deserve any of it." He waited for my sobbing to stop. I sniffled. I had lost so much. I had given him more than I should. My time for mourning my dead love life was over. "Remember who you are, and who you're waiting for." Lorne winked knowingly as he slid my limp body into the cab. I told the cabbie where I was staying and he drove there promptly, and without making me sick. I attempted to pay him but he refused and told me he owed a favor to Lorne. I nodded and thanked him for the ride.
We hit a few bars. Nothing too exciting, at least not to me. I spent most of my time at the bar, just drowning, like I usually do. Beth and Manny got a few numbers. All night I day dreamed, that someone would come and rescue me, I got to the point I didn't care who it was. Spike. My ex. Either one, didn't matter to me, I just wanted to be saved from the hell I was living. I downed a few shots of something, the bartender seemed to think it would help to dull it all. It never did. Not even after a whole bottle, no one came. It seemed to just sharpen the pain.
We returned to the motel, and I perched on the balcony, hoping to see him staggering in, like I had done. I wanted it all to happen again. He'd ask me for a smoke, I'd give him one, and we'd end up in his room again. I discovered then that what I had really came to LA for was a distraction. Anything. Booze, Boys, at this point I'd settle for a knife through the foot. Something else to focus on for a while.
After One or so, I meandered down to the front office. I wasn't clear on why, but the memories of that night still aren't the sharpest ever. I wanted someone to tell me I'd be okay, and when they said it, I wanted to be able to believe them. I leaned over the desk and looked at the night clerk.
"Hello." I said slurring my words slightly. I swayed and held onto the counter for dear life. "Do you have any messages for room 235?" The clerk searched frantically. I could tell he was frightened, and probably thought I was some drunk bum that had come in to stab him for his money.
"Let me check." He dissappeared for a moment returning with a slip of white paper. He handed it over warily. "Yes, there you are." I sighed deeply, hiccuped and read the note.
"Eliza-
Thank you for dealing with my pain.
I will be returning soon to LA but
had some unfinished business in
Sunnydale. Please be here when I
return.
-Love
Spike"
I smiled and thanked the clerk. How long would he be? I couldn't wait in this motel forever. I shook my head feeling slightly deluded. I could wait as long as I could, but forever. My mind flashed to our earlier interlude in the hotel. I had laid on the floor in my room. We were friends, we cried together for our lost loves, and our potential one.
I didn't know what to think, where to go, what to do. I wandered the sidewalks of LA until I found a bar. Caritas. The name confused me, but confusing me wasn't hard to do at this point. I entered completely sullen, and ready for something to take me away.
I entered in, taking a seat at the bar, listening to a group of rather odd looking people try and croon on the karaoke machine. Weary, I let my head rest on the bar. Something about this bar spoke to me. I didn't know what at first; maybe it was the karaoke, I had an affinity for singing even though I'm never on tune. This was no exception.
I stood on stage looking out on the crowd, for some reason the odd faces in the audience didn't scare me. I thumbed casually through the catalogue unsure of what to sing. My finger rested on a random song. I felt a flood of irony was through me as the soft strains of R.E.M.'s "Everybody Hurts" began and the lyrics appeared on the small screen in front of me. I didn't need them, the words seemed to be my own. All the same I stared mindlessly into the glowing box. "Everybod-y-y-y hu-u-u-urts S-o-o-o-o-mmmmmetimes-s. . . ." I slurred the words as they happily taunted my splintered life.
The bartender placed the tequila bottle softly on the counter, making my ears ring endlessly. I sat up, looking through the three shot glasses filled to the brim. Carefully I placed the glass to my lips, and downed the first shot and winced as the alcohol burned it's way to my stomach. I tapped the bar to signify to the peculiar bartender that it was time for a refill. I became aware of a man in a white suit sitting next to me. I kept my position on my stool, leaning down to look through the glass as the bartender poured the golden liquid in.
"You have quite a set 'a pipes on ya there sister. . . ." The man signaled to the bartender to refill the second of the three drinks. I allowed a sarcastic tone to fill my voice.
"Thanks, but I only sing while completely smashed, as well as utterly depressed." I nodded to the bartender in thanks, raised my glass in a toast like motion, squeezed a lime into my mouth, and downed the shot. I winced noticeably and shook my head to rid my mouth of the bitter taste. "I'm not interested in a record contract, so you can leave now." The man turned towards me, resting his hand gently over mine.
"Want to know what I heard doll? You might find it more helpful than a bottle of tequila." He met my gaze as I turned to see who he was. Some how I wasn't startled by his red horns, or green skin. In fact I'd have to say his skin was complimented by his stark white suit, not to mention the silk shirt he was wearing. I took this all in quickly, I was all too interested in what he had said.
"So," I said lazily, "what did you hear? The makings of a true diva, cause like I said I'm not interested in a contract." I laughed half heartedly. I waved to the bartender to finish off the bottle. He hesitated looking to the man, and back at the bottle, then to me. The man tapped the glasses and the bartender quickly obeyed.
"On the house." He smiled kindly. "I heard what you know already." He steadied me as I swayed. "That guy just wasn't the one for you, hun." I met his gaze, as I felt my eyes well with tears. "Sh-h. It's okay, Liza! You don't need to worry about the fall, you've already bounced. You've found him. You need to hold on to him, and never let go, no matter what." I nodded absent mindedly. "You understand Eliza? I mean never, no matter what." I nodded again as he slid a card over to me. "My friends call me Lorne." He nodded to the bartender knowingly. "Three more, then call her a cab." I turned carefully, and watched him leave the bar and jump onto the stage casually.
I watched him on stage, relaxed and. . . almost giddy. This whole bar, the whole trip to L.A., was odd. I wasn't uncomfortable, just confused as to what kind of magic had came into my life. Lorne continued the stage show by singing an upbeat tune. I cringed openly as the Vegas style show tune reminded me of my trip there last spring with Jacob. I let my head rest of the bar at an awkward angle. Why had Spike left so suddenly for Sunnydale? I left my head begin to spin. Lorne finished the song with a classic jazz-like wail, and proceeded to stand next to the exit. I swaggered to him.
"Why?" I hiccuped and stumbled over my own feet. Lorne reached out to steady me again. "Why does it hurt?" I tapped my chest as I felt the tears begin. "Right here, all the time. . ." I sobbed. "So much. He slept with my best friend. I gave him it all. My heart, my time. . ." I tried to blink back the tears unsuccessfully. As Lorne stared down at me, I felt his empathy warm me.
"I know it hurts doll. I can see it." He stroked my hair gently. "I know exactly everything you gave to him," Lorne sighed heavily. "He didn't deserve any of it." He waited for my sobbing to stop. I sniffled. I had lost so much. I had given him more than I should. My time for mourning my dead love life was over. "Remember who you are, and who you're waiting for." Lorne winked knowingly as he slid my limp body into the cab. I told the cabbie where I was staying and he drove there promptly, and without making me sick. I attempted to pay him but he refused and told me he owed a favor to Lorne. I nodded and thanked him for the ride.
