Like Dying a Little
AN: Sorry for the lateness. We've moved and then I got the flu, and then whole Angel getting cancelled thing....well, this story was far from my mind. Especially since it was already finished before I started posting. My wife reminded me I should finish the uploading so I will, though I still doubt anyone will like it, hehe.
CHAPTER III:
"Bloody hell, you been snooping around in my head?" Spike snapped.
Lorne shrugged. "Hey I'm lying here busy with bleeding out of several new orifices. I can't help it. You may as well have come over and yelled it all in my ear. Besides, you got such an aura around you right now, I almost didn't need you to hum or sing. You got some major emotional baggage going on there don't you?"
Spike stiffened and got up. "Don't rightly see it being any of your business mate."
Lorne shot him an angry look. "Oh! Right! I'm lying here in what may well be my final minutes in this life, and I'm surrounded by clouds of your emotional waste but I'm not allowed to talk about it? Well I AM talking about it, Mr. Fish-and-Chips, and you would do well to listen, because you're not exactly cranking it out, are you?"
Spike opened his mouth to say something, then stopped. He almost smiled. There was something about meek guys growing a spine that he could appreciate. Then he frowned. "What do you care anyway? As you said, you're most likely about to be turned into dog biscuits soon."
Lorne looked at him calmly. "Why do YOU care? You're as much at death's door as I am. Oh, alright, you'll probably last an hour longer. Big whoop. And yet there you are trying to write a girl a letter." He rubbed his temples as he added; "And failing miserably I might add. But really, why?"
Spike lent down again. "Because that's what's important to me. She's been the only important thing to me for the last couple o' bleedin' years, alright?"
"Right" Lorne nodded. "So when we're facing death, we suddenly find our little minds going to stuff that is irrelevant but important to us."
Spike pulled up one eyebrow. "So....what, I'm that important to you? Uh sorry, mate I don't swing that way...."
Lorne rolled his eyes. "No, you idiot. Look......I've done only two things in my life that mattered. One was entertaining. Hosting. Singing. Bringing some beauty in this dreary life............." His voice trailed off for a moment, then he collected himself. "The other was helping people. With Angel and the others I've done a lot of that, but I already used to do it, in a slightly different way. At Caritas......people came to me, troubled, hurt, unsure. And I would help them. They would sing and I would see them, their souls, their destiny. And I gave advise."
Spike nodded. "Yeah I heard that. Like a therapist with cocktails or something ..."
Lorne didn't respond immediately. "In a way... I was good. I helped a lot of people, of all kinds of species. Nobody fought at my place, it was a safe haven and all types of people and creatures just sat side by side and listen to music and have a drink and I would help them. See them from the inside out and lend a friendly hand. And it's hard, you know. Hard to say just enough to set them on the path they needed to take."
He sighed. "I was good........" He looked at Spike. "Where I come from there was no place for anything like that. There was no music. No caring, no helping. Just battle, honor and their damned traditions."
Spike only nodded. He got what he meant but was unsure how to respond.
"Anyway......seeing how this could be my last hours of this life, I turn to what's important to me. Doing what I used to do, probably for the last time. To sense someone in pain and helping them. And maybe it's not a coincidence that we're both at this point....on the threshold...and you needing help and me needing to give it......you know?"
Spike sort of shrugged. "Look I don't know about that stuff. I just..."
"You need to write your letter." Lorne interrupted.
Spike hesitated, closed his mouth and nodded. Then added; "It's......important..."
"Of course it is you lug. Your Alexandra is leaving, and you're finally coming to terms with it."
"Wuh? Who? Alexandra?" Spike wondered for a moment if the guy was delirious after all.
"Oh, it's from a song. You know what I mean. You're 'one' is leaving. You're 'the one'. Throughout history of all worlds, people have been crying, singing and writing about it. Call her Alexandra, Juliet, Scarlett, Catherine, Lenore or Helen of Troy. The one. The woman in the story that everything else revolves around. The gal that makes the heart go boom. This is your story, and she's yours."
Spike just looked at him. Lorne rolled his eyes again. "Oh please Mr. Tough Guy. I know you used to write poetry in Victorian England so don't tell me you don't know what I'm talking about!"
Spike grimaced. "Fine, fine! No need to get nasty. She's my dream gal, got it. I should be jumping off the Titanic with her while Celine bloody Dion is shrieking in the background!"
Lorne grinned. "NOW you're getting it. And for the record, Celine does not shriek. But what you're not getting is what you're doing."
Spike sighed. "Trying to write a bloody letter."
"Yes, but to say what? You've been going about this all wrong my friend. You're running in the same old circles. What do you think you really need to say with this letter?"
Spike glanced at the desk. He hesitated, drawing breath to speak, but nothing much came out. "I-I......"
"That you love her? Want her? Miss her?" Lorne interrupted. "Already said that, sport, a hundred times over. That you're sorry? There are no sorries left, and you know it. That you wish things had been different? What else is new?"
Spike gave him a look. "And this is you helping how, exactly?"
Lorne sighed. "That song I mentioned. You know what it's about? It's about accepting. About realizing how much your life has been enriched by loving someone, and not focusing on the wrong aspects for the wrong reasons. Sometimes people don't love us back, or fall in love with someone else, or they die, or just leave.....bottom line, they're not with us. But we need to realize not how crappy we feel, but how lucky we were, that we were even briefly touched by them, by feeling such feelings. Feeling such a love."
Lorne thought for a moment and then quoted: "And you who had the honor of her evening. And by that honor, had your own restored. Say goodbye, to Alexandra leaving. Alexandra leaving with her lord.
As someone long prepared for the occasion, in full command of every plan you wrecked. Do not choose a coward's explanation, that hides behind the cause and the effect.
You, who were bewildered by a meaning. Whose code was broken, crucifix uncrossed Say goodbye to Alexandra leaving.
Then say goodbye........ to Alexandra lost.'"
Spike didn't say anything for a moment as the words sunk in. Whatever scoff he was planning fell dead and unspoken from his mind.
He looked back at the desk, then back at Lorne. "You mean I....." Lorne shook his head. "No, YOU mean. Underneath you already knew. What you're really trying to say to her."
Spike looked at the paper on the desk again and nodded. "Yeah.........'s like that innit? You just don't wanna know that you know....."
He walked over to the desk, sat down and started to write.
A little later he got up, folded the letter and put it into an envelope. Lorne coughed again and tasted blood, and looking up at Spike with the letter, he softly said: "There. Wasn't that hard was it?" Spike gave a sad chuckle. "Hardest thing I've ever bloody done......."
Lorne nodded. "Still, you got it done pretty quickly. Which is good because I have something else to say. Another reason I gave you a little nudge. You has to do this quickly because there's not much time left....."
Spike looked back at him now. "Saw more than just my writer's block, eh? What else? See my destiny? Going down in a bloody battle in a couple of minutes from now? No real surprise there." Lorne shook his head and tried to work himself into a sitting position. "No, something else is going to happen, and you'll need to make a decision, my bleached friend."
Spike's brow knitted together in a questioning frown. Lorne nodded with his head in the direction of the amulet on the desk's corner. Spike looked at it and rolled his eyes. "Not that thing again! Already been there, okay?" Lorne's face didn't change. When he spoke there was a gravitas to his voice that Spike hadn't previously heard from him. "Yes, it's been used before, by different people with different agendas. And our coworkers are probably going to have a hell of a time facing off a lot of them. But by then this needs to be gone."
"I should destroy it?"
Lorne shook his head. "I know there was talk of that when you were still a ghost, to release your spirit. And yes it can be destroyed on hallowed ground but if they had done that the consequences would have been catastrophic. The result shockwave could have ripped all kinds of dimensional barriers."
Spike sighed. "Ah. One of those."
TBC
AN: Sorry for the lateness. We've moved and then I got the flu, and then whole Angel getting cancelled thing....well, this story was far from my mind. Especially since it was already finished before I started posting. My wife reminded me I should finish the uploading so I will, though I still doubt anyone will like it, hehe.
CHAPTER III:
"Bloody hell, you been snooping around in my head?" Spike snapped.
Lorne shrugged. "Hey I'm lying here busy with bleeding out of several new orifices. I can't help it. You may as well have come over and yelled it all in my ear. Besides, you got such an aura around you right now, I almost didn't need you to hum or sing. You got some major emotional baggage going on there don't you?"
Spike stiffened and got up. "Don't rightly see it being any of your business mate."
Lorne shot him an angry look. "Oh! Right! I'm lying here in what may well be my final minutes in this life, and I'm surrounded by clouds of your emotional waste but I'm not allowed to talk about it? Well I AM talking about it, Mr. Fish-and-Chips, and you would do well to listen, because you're not exactly cranking it out, are you?"
Spike opened his mouth to say something, then stopped. He almost smiled. There was something about meek guys growing a spine that he could appreciate. Then he frowned. "What do you care anyway? As you said, you're most likely about to be turned into dog biscuits soon."
Lorne looked at him calmly. "Why do YOU care? You're as much at death's door as I am. Oh, alright, you'll probably last an hour longer. Big whoop. And yet there you are trying to write a girl a letter." He rubbed his temples as he added; "And failing miserably I might add. But really, why?"
Spike lent down again. "Because that's what's important to me. She's been the only important thing to me for the last couple o' bleedin' years, alright?"
"Right" Lorne nodded. "So when we're facing death, we suddenly find our little minds going to stuff that is irrelevant but important to us."
Spike pulled up one eyebrow. "So....what, I'm that important to you? Uh sorry, mate I don't swing that way...."
Lorne rolled his eyes. "No, you idiot. Look......I've done only two things in my life that mattered. One was entertaining. Hosting. Singing. Bringing some beauty in this dreary life............." His voice trailed off for a moment, then he collected himself. "The other was helping people. With Angel and the others I've done a lot of that, but I already used to do it, in a slightly different way. At Caritas......people came to me, troubled, hurt, unsure. And I would help them. They would sing and I would see them, their souls, their destiny. And I gave advise."
Spike nodded. "Yeah I heard that. Like a therapist with cocktails or something ..."
Lorne didn't respond immediately. "In a way... I was good. I helped a lot of people, of all kinds of species. Nobody fought at my place, it was a safe haven and all types of people and creatures just sat side by side and listen to music and have a drink and I would help them. See them from the inside out and lend a friendly hand. And it's hard, you know. Hard to say just enough to set them on the path they needed to take."
He sighed. "I was good........" He looked at Spike. "Where I come from there was no place for anything like that. There was no music. No caring, no helping. Just battle, honor and their damned traditions."
Spike only nodded. He got what he meant but was unsure how to respond.
"Anyway......seeing how this could be my last hours of this life, I turn to what's important to me. Doing what I used to do, probably for the last time. To sense someone in pain and helping them. And maybe it's not a coincidence that we're both at this point....on the threshold...and you needing help and me needing to give it......you know?"
Spike sort of shrugged. "Look I don't know about that stuff. I just..."
"You need to write your letter." Lorne interrupted.
Spike hesitated, closed his mouth and nodded. Then added; "It's......important..."
"Of course it is you lug. Your Alexandra is leaving, and you're finally coming to terms with it."
"Wuh? Who? Alexandra?" Spike wondered for a moment if the guy was delirious after all.
"Oh, it's from a song. You know what I mean. You're 'one' is leaving. You're 'the one'. Throughout history of all worlds, people have been crying, singing and writing about it. Call her Alexandra, Juliet, Scarlett, Catherine, Lenore or Helen of Troy. The one. The woman in the story that everything else revolves around. The gal that makes the heart go boom. This is your story, and she's yours."
Spike just looked at him. Lorne rolled his eyes again. "Oh please Mr. Tough Guy. I know you used to write poetry in Victorian England so don't tell me you don't know what I'm talking about!"
Spike grimaced. "Fine, fine! No need to get nasty. She's my dream gal, got it. I should be jumping off the Titanic with her while Celine bloody Dion is shrieking in the background!"
Lorne grinned. "NOW you're getting it. And for the record, Celine does not shriek. But what you're not getting is what you're doing."
Spike sighed. "Trying to write a bloody letter."
"Yes, but to say what? You've been going about this all wrong my friend. You're running in the same old circles. What do you think you really need to say with this letter?"
Spike glanced at the desk. He hesitated, drawing breath to speak, but nothing much came out. "I-I......"
"That you love her? Want her? Miss her?" Lorne interrupted. "Already said that, sport, a hundred times over. That you're sorry? There are no sorries left, and you know it. That you wish things had been different? What else is new?"
Spike gave him a look. "And this is you helping how, exactly?"
Lorne sighed. "That song I mentioned. You know what it's about? It's about accepting. About realizing how much your life has been enriched by loving someone, and not focusing on the wrong aspects for the wrong reasons. Sometimes people don't love us back, or fall in love with someone else, or they die, or just leave.....bottom line, they're not with us. But we need to realize not how crappy we feel, but how lucky we were, that we were even briefly touched by them, by feeling such feelings. Feeling such a love."
Lorne thought for a moment and then quoted: "And you who had the honor of her evening. And by that honor, had your own restored. Say goodbye, to Alexandra leaving. Alexandra leaving with her lord.
As someone long prepared for the occasion, in full command of every plan you wrecked. Do not choose a coward's explanation, that hides behind the cause and the effect.
You, who were bewildered by a meaning. Whose code was broken, crucifix uncrossed Say goodbye to Alexandra leaving.
Then say goodbye........ to Alexandra lost.'"
Spike didn't say anything for a moment as the words sunk in. Whatever scoff he was planning fell dead and unspoken from his mind.
He looked back at the desk, then back at Lorne. "You mean I....." Lorne shook his head. "No, YOU mean. Underneath you already knew. What you're really trying to say to her."
Spike looked at the paper on the desk again and nodded. "Yeah.........'s like that innit? You just don't wanna know that you know....."
He walked over to the desk, sat down and started to write.
A little later he got up, folded the letter and put it into an envelope. Lorne coughed again and tasted blood, and looking up at Spike with the letter, he softly said: "There. Wasn't that hard was it?" Spike gave a sad chuckle. "Hardest thing I've ever bloody done......."
Lorne nodded. "Still, you got it done pretty quickly. Which is good because I have something else to say. Another reason I gave you a little nudge. You has to do this quickly because there's not much time left....."
Spike looked back at him now. "Saw more than just my writer's block, eh? What else? See my destiny? Going down in a bloody battle in a couple of minutes from now? No real surprise there." Lorne shook his head and tried to work himself into a sitting position. "No, something else is going to happen, and you'll need to make a decision, my bleached friend."
Spike's brow knitted together in a questioning frown. Lorne nodded with his head in the direction of the amulet on the desk's corner. Spike looked at it and rolled his eyes. "Not that thing again! Already been there, okay?" Lorne's face didn't change. When he spoke there was a gravitas to his voice that Spike hadn't previously heard from him. "Yes, it's been used before, by different people with different agendas. And our coworkers are probably going to have a hell of a time facing off a lot of them. But by then this needs to be gone."
"I should destroy it?"
Lorne shook his head. "I know there was talk of that when you were still a ghost, to release your spirit. And yes it can be destroyed on hallowed ground but if they had done that the consequences would have been catastrophic. The result shockwave could have ripped all kinds of dimensional barriers."
Spike sighed. "Ah. One of those."
TBC