GW Robichaux

"You think God can get drunk?"

Elian's brown eyes watched amber liquid pour into the glass that was set down before him, hitting ice cubes as the tumbler filled halfway and was pushed toward him. He posed his question in a hypothetical sense, not really expecting much of an answer from the man who tended the bar.

"If you believe in God," the man answered indifferently, not really planning on carrying on the conversation if he got his money for the drink. "Which I don't, so I could give a shit if he could or not."

Even snow in the desert wasn't enough to deter Elian from leaving his apartment. The amalgamation of crap bogging down his mind began to suffocate him, and unable to maintain a sense of mental clarity, wandered out into the streets through the blanket of white which looked so strange and anomalous as it coated the Las Vegas Strip.

He had walked until his toes had gone numb, and even then, continued to walk even farther. The wind whipped around his shoulders, picking up the end of his scarf as he traipsed through snowbanks with his hands crammed into the pockets of his jacket. He'd chosen the bar at random. When he didn't feel like walking anymore, Elian had ducked inside seeking a beverage to warm himself before he went back out again.

When his drink had been poured, he fished a few bills out of his pocket and tossed them on the counter. Sitting at the bar wouldn't have been the greatest idea for someone who didn't feel like talking to anyone, and the normally chatty man felt it best to move to the back of the room, find an empty table, and slump over it until his glass had been dutifully drained.

What are de odds? GW asked himself when he spotted Elian. The Cajun had stopped in for a drink at his neighborhood watering hole, and what did he see? A certain lost sheep that had Meredith and Lorne both tied up in knots.

He ought to buy a lottery ticket, because some of Mere's karma power must be rubbing off on him.

That thought in mind, GW ordered a beer from Sal and observed Elian trying to drown his sorrows as he waited. "Hey Sal," he asked the bartender as he handed over the cash for the beer, "how long has de guy in the corner been here? I t'ink I know him from somewhere."

The bartender shrugged and offered a grunt. "Been in here 'bought twenty minutes now," came the response, "Asked me somethin' about God and wandered away. Weird kid."


Whiskey burned. And it was that sense of falsified heat that had allowed Elian to warm up. He pulled his knit-cap off his head and tossed it on the bench beside him before he tugged at one end of his scarf to loosen it from around his neck.

With a grumble, he slugged another gulp from his glass and hissed as it burned it's way down his throat. He only half noticed that the bartender and the guy he was talking to had their eyes on him. He didn't care. If they thought he was some crazy evangelist because he was talking about God and they wanted a fight, they could bring it on. It would make a welcome distraction, and Elian was in a foul enough mood to want to precipitate it.

Did former higher beings get in bar fights? Better yet, did former higher beings even exist? "Whatever," Elian muttered under his breath, speaking merely only to the squat glass sitting in front of him.

"Mere, you owe me fer dis one." GW muttered under his breath and took a long pull from his beer before making his way toward Elian's table. He wasn't exactly sure what he was going to say, but he'd liked Elian the few times he'd interacted with him and knew that the other man's problems couldn't be drowned in alcohol.

The time it took him to cross the bar was how long it took GW to decide to just talk to the other man and be completely honest. He hadn't had a chance to talk to Mere yet about the meeting with Lorne and how everything went, but the fact that Elian was here rather than the GreenRoom was an indication that things weren't going back to the way they were before Bowman had fucked them up.

"Evenin podna, mind if I sit?"

Elian had seen the man cross the bar and realized he was heading right over to his table.

Now what's this all about? he wondered to himself and sat back as the other fellow wandered right up to his table.

A jerk of his head to gesture towards the bartender up front. "He send you to kick me out?" he asked the newcomer, "I'm not leaving until I finish my drink."

"Nah," GW told the former bartender goodnaturedly. "I just asked Sal how long you'd been here, dat's all." He sat down and took another pull from his beer bottle. "You take your time Podna, ain't nobody gonna run you out." GW would see to it if nothing else.

"You look like a man wit' de weight o' de world on his shoulders," the strange thing was, GW realized he was falling back on patterns he used back when he was a Marine Nomcom trying to mentor younger troops, something he didn't do often since he'd gotten out. This version of Elian seemed much more vulnerable than the one he was familiar with. "Sometimes it helps t' share with someone willin' t' listen."

The former bartender chuffed before he picked up the glass set down in front of him. With a slow and fluid rotation of his wrist, swirled the ice cubes around in the amber liquid, drops of condensation gathering on his fingertips and dripping to the table beneath.

"Buddy, you wouldn't begin to believe anything I would ever tell you about what's bugging me," Elian replied without eye contact, ran his tongue over his bottom teeth thoughtfully before he swallowed another mouthful of whiskey. "Because to be perfectly straight with you," he added, "I don't believe any of it myself."

"You'd be surprised," GW drawled, taking another sip of his beer. Considering his family history and the people he'd wound up hanging out with in Vegas, nothing would surprise him. "I served in Afghanistan and saw some pretty weird shit over dere, you bet. Not all de Taliban used RPGs and AK-47's."

He was keeping it purposefully rooted in the non supernatural for now, letting the other man believe what he wanted. Just the little he had heard from Mere about this let him think this was the best course of action.

"Dere was dis one guy, he seemed somethin' out o' De Matrix, could dodge bullets like dey was goin' in slow motion or somethin." The Cajun shook his head and took another pull of his bottle, draining it dry. He made a face and raised the bottle above his head to catch the waitresses attention, it was light beer so he would be able to have three or four before he had to cut himself off from driving the short distance from here to his house.

Elian looked up at the newcomer and his eyebrow went up slowly. He had just been told he had fallen from the ether and the big white beyond by a flamboyant green karaoke-singing demon wearing Gucci. And this guy thought his story was weird? Wasn't he in for a treat?

"Apparently as it seems, gunshots aren't enough to stop people," he muttered before he finished out his drink and set the glass down at the edge of the table so it could be picked up and replaced at any employee's earliest convenience, "As I've been told, some people get shot in the face at point blank range and they don't die. Or actually, they do, except they don't, because they're.. angels or some shit."

He sat up straight from being slumped over, and rested both his hands on the table in front of him, interlocking his fingers as he leveled a gaze at the heavily accented southerner. "Not implying that I think the same goes for the Taliban, but...." he trailed off as his eyes fixated on the man sitting across from him. Something seemed oddly familiar about him. Not in the sense that he knew the man personally, but there was still.. something.

"Do I know you from somewhere?" he asked him suddenly, redirecting the conversation down another route, "Or better yet, I should ask - where do you know me from?"


GW shrugged as the waitress changed out his empty beer bottle for a full one. He had nothing to hide, if Elian decided to bolt he'd be disappointed but life would go on. He'd finish his second beer and go home. "I only met you a few times before you had your incident," he told the other man, "an from all accounts you aren't de same man anymore so why don' we start fresh?"

He held out a hand, "I'm GW Robichaux, what's your name?"

Hesitant, Elian held out a hand and took the other man's in a shake. "Elian DeMattéo," he answered, though feeling it wasn't really necessary seeing as the other man already knew who he was. His own glass had been replaced yet he didn't really touch it, he sort of pushed it aside.

"You're Meredith's boyfriend," the former higher being noted, "That's where you know me from. And I guess that's why you look kind of familiar to me. I saw pictures of you at her house when I was there the other day. But don't get me wrong, other than that, I honestly don't know who you are. Don't know if she told you or not, but I lost my memory. So don't take offense if I seem a little put off by every single thing in this screwed up world."

"No worries Podna," GW assured him, "it was pretty obvious you'd lost your memory. It's nice t' meet ya, Elian, and yes, I am Mere's boyfriend."

He leaned back and studied the other man for a moment, then shrugged again. "Why would I take offense? You had your entire world turned upside down an you don' have a clue what's really goin' on, am I right?"

"More or less," came Elian's halted reply. "You know, when I woke up in the summer, as I was saying to Meredith, I expected something a little more normal than what I was faced with. Getting attacked by vampires was a little weird until the sky started spitting out monsters over Christmas and then it got even weirder when I met Lorne."

He supposed then, since GW seemed to be in the know, that he wasn't going to sugarcoat anything. What the heck was the point?

The refilled glass of whiskey was reached for and Elian drank from it before he continued on. "I mean, I don't know how well you know Lorne or even Meredith for that matter, and I don't know how well versed you are in the so-called world of the supernatural, but I'm finding this whole entire experience incredibly unnerving and I'm really not dealing very well with the fact that I apparently used to tend bar for Mr. Joe Slimebag and his merry gang of child-eaters."

Upperlip curled slightly. "So here's me thinking that maybe I ended up being some kind of demon myself, because no one really understood why I didn't age," he went on rather sullenly, "And as it turns out I end up being some kind of former higher-being and according to Lorne and whatever that thing he does does, I gave up my white robe and my harp and fell back down to earth to this miserable god-forsaken existence."

He snorted to himself as he swallowed more liquor, "Yeah. Great."

"I grew up wit' de supernatural from de time I was born," GW explained, then took another sip of his beer before continuing. "De women in my family, dere belladonnas, white witches. So I knew about both good an' de bad in de supernatural world from de time I could walk." There was also the small matter of marrying a Watcher's daughter, but that was really a minor note in terms of how he knew about the supernatural world. "Growin' up in my family and bein' in southern Louisiana, magic spells and creatures seemed as normal as jambalaya to me."

He leaned forward and pointed a finger at Elian, "Lemme tell ya, Lorne may be as flamin' as dey come but he ain't a slimebag. He may not be a boyscout but I t'ink you got yer wires crossed wit him. I've never gotten a wiff o' any darkness 'round him, an' I don' tink Mere would have gotten so close t' him if he had."

"Guess I'm the odd man out then," Elian responded offhandedly as he held the rim of his squat glass with his fingertips and idly turned it a few times on the table. "Guess I'm the only person on the planet who refuses to believe. Or maybe not so much a refusal as just my being stubborn. It's not that I don't want to believe though, it's just that it's incredibly hard to swallow. Now matter how hard I try to come to terms with this life, someone throws me another curveball."

He shook his head and sighed, "The fallen angel thing took the cake though," he added.

Thinking back on the psychic reading, however, Elian remembered how Lorne had reacted when he delved inside his mind. How he nearly fainted when he got what he went digging for. Unless he was a drama queen looking for an Oscar nominated performance, more than likely he wasn't lying about what he'd seen.

"You seem pretty normal yourself though," Elian told him. "I mean, despite the fact you come from a family like you do, you yourself seem pretty average. And I don't mean that to sound insulting in any way, but I don't exactly see how you fit in with Meredith and Lorne. Those two are kind of, you know, out there. I mean, don't you feel threatened by him?"

"I don' know if I'd question dat fallen agel ting," GW countered to Elian's disbelief, "not dat I ever met one before. But yer obviously not a vamp, so how else t' explain not agin'? I know it sounds crazy, but dere's a lot o' crazy tings dat happen without de supernatural bein' involved too, so just because it sounds crazy doesn't mean it can't happen."

He really didn't have a good answer to Elian's question about Lorne and Meredith though. "I dunno, with Mere an' I it was instant attraction. We were crazy 'bout each other almost from de word go, an I've never gotten dat vibe between her and Lorne." The Cajun shook his head and shrugged, "I can't explain it any better dan dat."

"You sure about that?" Elian questioned, "Not that it's really any of my business, because it's not, but he's totally inlove with her. That's why I asked if you felt threatened."

Eyes drifted across the bar as though he hadn't put much thought or care into the conversation, more or less just stating the obvious. "I don't want to be a gossip monger or anything because I don't even know these people," he added, "I'm just thinking aloud. It just seems like a strange situation - your girlfriend spends what seems like a fair amount of her time being molly coddled and fawned over by green demon who worships the ground she walks on, and you're sitting here in a bar having a beer with a man who just told you he used to be an angel."

He shook his head and chuckled just then, "Man, you sure got some brass balls," he commented wryly before finishing out his drink, "And the patience of a saint. How do you do it?"

GW scratched his chin and thought about Elian's words. He'd seen the way Lorne acted around Meredith, but the demon had known her for two years now, and had never gotten past being comfortable friends with her.

"I guess I just have t' trust her," GW responded finally after several seconds of silence. "Lorne's had two years t' get anywhere wit' her, and either never had de balls to try anyt'ing or Mere just never saw him as anyt'ing but a friend."

He took a long swig of his beer and looked at Elian evenly, "'sides, after seein' de tings I seen, youlearn t' take tings as dey come an not wish up trouble."

"Hey, i'm not trying to make trouble," Elian replied with a shrug, "I'm just still trying to understand everything. Trying to get a feel for how things are and how they're supposed to be."


He heaved out a somewhat long and sullen sigh, "Guess I've got a lot of understanding to do. I didn't really think I was much of the patient type, but everything i've learned about my former self so far tells me otherwise. I'm not feeling patient right now, though. Hell, I don't even know what I feel. Except maybe a bit drunk, but I guess that's a step up from being utterly and totally terrified."

He picked up the cardboard coaster that was supposed to be sitting under his glass and he tapped it on the table, mashing up the corner in the process. "Just don't know where I am supposed to go from here, you know?"

"However and wherever you want, I guess," GW mused "you got a chance t' have a fresh start. If dat means not havin' anyting t' do wit' Mere an' Lorne, den I guess dat's your call. Dey'll miss you, but you have t' lead yer own life."

"Yeah I do," Elian agreed thoughtfully, "But I still don't know what to do in that regard. I was happier thinking I was just a regular guy, but now that everything's changed, I really don't know what to do. Bottom line is, I have a bunch more thinking I need to do. I haven't had the time yet to even start to process any of this."

He sighed. "I know they want me to be this guy that I used to be, but I just can't," he admitted, "I'm not him anymore, and I don't want to feel obligated to at least try and be someone I know I can't be. And I know that whatever I say and do to them, it's not going to stop them from trying to bring back my memories."

The bitter taste in his mouth wouldn't go away when he thought about it. Lorne said his other friend went evil and died when they tried it on her. Would they really stop at nothing to try and get him back?

"Honestly, GW, I just don't see things getting back to the way they were," he added, "Because I really don't see it as me returning to my former self. All I see it as is a greater level of self acceptance."

"Fair enough," GW responded, nodding his head. He honestly didn't have much stake in what Elian did aside from Meredith's state of mind and he was sure he could help her through any issues that came from Elian's decision. "Right now you are a regular guy, Lorne didn't say you were still a 'higher being' did he?" GW used air quotes for the term, and looked at Elian evenly.

"If you really don' want Lorne an Mere t' try and restore your memories, dat's your right. Don' let dem do anyting you don' want dem to do, but if you can get dem to accept you as you are, you might want t' see if you can start fresh. De three of you were like family once, maybe you can be dat way again dis time around."

"But if you do want t' try an find out about your past," GW told him, "Vegas seems t' be de place t' do it. It seems t' be a supernatural nexus, dere's all kinds o' folks here. If you don't want anyone in Vegas handlin' it I can have my great aunt contact you. She's one o' de most powerful an experienced White Witches I know, if anyone can help you figure out why you came down here in de first place, my Tante can."

He leaned back and finished off his beer in one pull. "Either way Elian, I have your back if you need a friend."

"Thanks," Elian responded with a sigh. "Something tells me I don't have much say in the matter though. The way the two of them were talking, they're hell bent on finding some way to get my memory back. But I honestly don't know how that's going to work, anyways. If I would be restored to who I used to be and be happy as a clam once again, or have all my old memories brought back and yet who I am right now just wouldn't change. Except I would remember being a bartender."

He grunted. "That would make things ten times worse," he added, "Because as if I don't already have enough noise in my head from all this, I certainly don't need anymore."


"Dey don' get a vote," GW was annoyed now, and didn't bother hiding it. It was one thing to try and find Elian again and let him know he had people who cared for him. It was quite another to try and forcibly restore Elian's memories when he wasn't interested in having them restored. "I'll talk to 'em, try to make em see reason."

He understood Lorne and Meredith's desire to have their friend back, he did. But there was such a thing as going too far. Meredith had gone too far once before since he'd known her, and he wasn't going to stand by and watch her cross the line again without trying to do something about it.

The Cajun set his beer down, he didn't feel much like drinking any longer. It was time to change the subject.

"So what are you doin' dese days anyway if you aren't bartendin'?" GW was curious about the 'new' Elian. "Where are you living?"

Well, at least someone around here saw things the way he did. Elian could be at least grateful that Meredith's boyfriend wasn't so caught up in some long-dead fairy tale that he wasn't seeing the big picture.

"I'm working for a pool cleaning company," he told GW conversationally, feeling buzzed enough by his drink that he felt like talking, "The pay is crap and I guess now because of the snow I wont be working much, but it's laid back and I get a lot of sun."

And he didn't work for demons or serve them drinks, either.

A casual shrug followed. "I'm living up north, small building. My landlord hates me, thinks I have a thing with his daughter when I've never actually met her. Go figure."

A few people had entered the bar since, and bundled up in heavy clothing and scarves, knit caps, and gloves, shook off the snow when the door slammed shut behind them.

"What about you?" he asked the other man, "You're a musician or something, right?"

"Dat's right," GW confirmed with a nod, "I'm founding member, lead singer and fiddle player for de band Cajun Devildogs. We play Cajun, Zydeco an' Country music. Bluegrassy stuff mostly." There was obvious pride in his voice and expression about the band, he'd worked hard on it and it was really taking off. It had helped to get out of Louisiana, there were so many good Cajun bands down there that it was hard to stand out far enough to get attention, but here they were exposing all kinds of people to his chosen style of music.

"As for de landlords daughter, maybe you should meet her? You never know, she could be cute." He grinned at the other man

Elian the pool cleaner, GW had to shake his head at that one. "As long as you enjoy what you do, that's the important thing."

An even shrug followed, "I suppose, but at least it's not bartending."

He made the statement with a hint of cynicism in his voice, "Well I honestly don't know what to do," he admitted finally, "Maybe I'll go back to the GreenRoom and beg them not to do anything. It'll probably only make them upset with me, but I don't know what else to think of at this point besides getting the hell out of Dodge. But I'm sure they'll find me, or someone will."

He snorted. "Funny how I wanted people to find me, and this is what I end up with. Jesus."

One of GW's eyebrows raised at the cynicism, "What do you have against bartending? Not tending bar at de GreenRoom, but in general?" He was curious about why the other man would feel bitterness against a profession. It was just another indication of how different this Elian was compared to the old version.

There was one thing that had to be cleared up though. "I happen t' be in love with one of dose people, an not de green one, so I'd appreciate it if you don' judge dere enthusiasm too harshly."

"Well, I don't have anything against bartenders," Elian offered, "But bartending, yeah. Sorry, just a personal thing, but the thought of it right now leaves a bad taste in my mouth. Like everything else. Guess I need to drink some more."

It probably wasn't a good idea if he did though. He had to get himself back home in that blizzard, and he more than likely wouldn't be able to do it if he was too inebriated.

"All the same though," he went on, "I realize Meredith is your girlfriend and all, but it's kind of hard for me not to want to judge her right now. Her and Lorne. But please, if you will, talk to them. They might be more prone to listening if someone on their side objects. I'm sure they won't listen to me."

"Oh I'll talk t' dem all right," GW promised fervently. This crusade to restore Elian to what he had been, against his will, had to stop. Hopefully he would be able to persuade Meredith and Lorne that they needed to let Elian make his own decisions. If Elian didn't feel pressured, maybe the memories would come back on their own. And if the memories didn't come back, they wouldn't have poisoned the relationship with the 'new' Elian and have a chance to rekindle the friendship.

He dug his wallet out and pulled out a business card, then handed the card to Elian. "Dat has my cell number on it," he told the other man. "Give me a call sometime if you want t' have a beer or shoot some pool. If you still have problems with Lorne or Mere, feel free to call den as well and I'll see what I can do."

"Thanks," the former bartender answered. He took the business card and examined it for a moment, thoughtfully flipping it around in his hands before he slid it into the breast pocket in his shirt. "You've been a great help. I appreciate it. I really do."

He didn't, however, want to start a big war over his brain. He just wanted to be left alone until he figured out what he wanted to do. Sure, maybe in the future he'd consider trying to get back to where he was, but right now he just wasn't ready. He had way too much to swallow and digest already. That, and he wasn't quite convinced that anything done to his mind wouldn't result in some kind of negative effect. After all, when Lorne mentioned his old friend had died as a result of some spell, it didn't put much faith into the whole operation.

GW nodded and stood up. "I don' know if I've been all dat much help, Elian, but I'll do what I can." He fished out enough cash from his wallet to cover his beers and a tip, and left the money on the table. "Take care of yourself and I'll see you around."

He'd have to go over to talk to Lorne, and to Meredith, as soon as he could. Hopefully he and Mere would still be able to head down to Louisiana for Mardi Gras after this was resolved, but GW wasn't sure how his girlfriend would take his arguing against what she and Lorne had planned.