Title: And A Blonde Shall Lead Them Author: kindred Disclaimer: The characters from BtVS and AtS are the property of Joss Whedon. Rating: PG-13 Summary: A mysterious entity shakes things up at Wolfram and Hart, fashionable anarchy ensues. Oh, and don't judge a hero by her choice in footwear. A/N: I have three stories nominated in the 13th Round at the Love's Last Glimpse Awards. Someone has been busy on my behalf. Thank you, whoever you are. I also found out that my story, "Open All Night", won the "Best Sex" award, in the first round of the Fang Fetish awards hosted by the lovely Athenewolfe! Squee! Lots of categories, lots of great stories: http://www.athenewolfe.com/fangfetish/r1winners.htm. 16. When Spike finally reached the Wolfram and Hart building he'd come to the conclusion that strong arm tactics weren't going to do him any good. Buffy certainly wasn't Drusilla and consequently Spike's tried and true strategies on how to deal with a possessed girlfriend weren't going to cut it this time. Given Buffy's current delusional state perhaps it would be wiser not to poke that hornet's nest of slayerly ambition. Casual surveillance from a comfortable but not too distant vantage point seemed entirely practical. The cafeteria was a centralized location and everyone wandered in at one time or another so Spike set up shop at a table and let the usual suspects come to him. Spike bided his time by gathering anecdotal evidence of the calamitous but oddly efficient new vibe that pumped through the jugular at Wolfram and Hart. He used the small coil bound note pad he'd lifted from Angel's dictation stash and busied himself by writing down observations that could prove useful in solving the current conundrum. When Angel sauntered over to another table to join a gaggle of giggly secretaries, Spike's pen accelerated over the page. "Angel is a pathetic git" and "Lord of the toupees" organically morphed into a number of unflattering caricatures. These simple amusements satisfied until Buffy's entrance caught his notice. She walked toward the beverage bin and picked a refreshing selection. Spike noted the juice variety and time of purchase and duly recorded the information. At this point anything could be an important clue. As soon as Buffy noticed Spike she turned in a huff and marched out of the room. Soon Gunn and Wesley appeared and wandered over with their purchases. Spike pocketed his notebook and pen in favor of some needed verbal interaction. Private eyeing, as it were, was proving difficult and solitary work. A casual chat was just what the detective ordered. Spike figured that pod persons could be accurate enough sources of pod information and Spike needed all the help he could get. * "Man, will you get over it already? Harmony's not your girl anymore." Gunn grew tired of listening to Spike drone on about Harmony. Coffee breaks were meant to be enjoyed. The only good thing about the situation was that he wasn't alone. The misery was ladled out all around. Wesley sat nursing his mug of tea and trying hard to ignore the conversation. "And besides, aren't you back with that Greeter girl who used to be the slayer, what's her name again?" "Buffy! Yes, I am most definitely with Buffy. This isn't about trying to get back with Harmony." "But..." Gunn interjected, indicating that the conversation was sure to return to an uncomfortable Harmony focus. "Really, Spike," Wesley finally spoke up. Ignoring Spike was virtually impossible. "It is quite obvious you're still smitten. Unfortunately, everyone knows the whole sordid tale--" A blistering sigh disappeared into his mug of Earl Grey. Wesley spotted Fred as soon as she sauntered into the cafeteria and waved her over with a smile. "Look! There's no sordid tale," Spike protested. "Harmony was good for a few shags back when I went sack o' hammers after Drusilla--" "Hey guys," Fred smiled and sat down beside Wesley. She snapped open the tab on a can of iced tea and took a swallow. "What are we talking about?" "One guess." Gunn curled the corner of his mouth down and nodded toward Spike. "Again?" Fred looked like she'd just tasted something bitter. This topic was getting old really fast. She hoped an intervention wasn't going to be necessary. "Spike," Fred spoke in a calm and neutral voice, "haven't we gone over this in--and I'm speaking as a sometime supportive shoulder now--excruciating detail? I thought you were past the mooning parts." "I've been mooning over Harmony?" Shock and revulsion shared an intimate moment in his expression. "Look, forget that," Spike protested. "You've got to hear me out." "I won't sit here and listen to you bad mouth Harmony." Wesley's loyalty was obviously iron clad. "Regardless of her current dalliance with that Hamilton fellow," Wesley paused to wipe the corner of his mouth with his napkin, "she is beyond reproach." "Hamilton is a little creepy," Fred admitted. "In that I-can't-believe-it's-a-jaw kinda way but Harmony makes him come across as almost human, you know?" Wesley's gaze tightened on Fred. She melted his agitation with a slow smile. "They have pet names for each other. I think it's sweet." Winifred Burkle could find a ray of sunshine in a Nezzla's rancid armpit. "I'm telling you the truth here," Spike interjected swiftly, not wanting to listen to the ins and outs of Harmony's current love life. "Something has happened. Something seriously mystical has whooshed in here and made Harmony the boss. I've been investigating: top of my list is alien pods." "Spike, you're not making sense." Fred responded gently. "My point exactly," Wesley nodded in agreement. "Look, doesn't it strike anybody as unusual that Harmony leapfrogged from the steno pool all the way to CEO?" "I see it as a reflection of her innate leadership abilities," Wesley reasoned. "Need I remind you that this is Wolfram and Hart, Spike? We specialize in the unusual." "What are you saying?" Gunn spoke up. "That there's been a spell of some kind that we're not aware of?" "That's it, Charlie!" Spike snapped his fingers together. "A spell. Alien pods, maybe. Dodgy seafood at the outside. Have they served shrimp at the buffet recently?" Spike looked anxiously for any clue from group. "And you are the only one aware of these alleged changes?" From his incredulous expression it was obvious Gunn didn't believe Spike's assertions. "That's what I'm saying. I am immune to whatever this is." "I find that a farfetched conclusion," Wesley declared. "Really Spike, your leaps of logic are quite puzzling." "So tell me how Harmony got to be CEO." "Must we persist with this ridiculous charade?" Wesley was losing patience. "She earned her way to the top post--as you well know--by her superlative performance evaluations. Also, I believe she types very fast." "And she's shagging the Senior Partner's man." Spike spoke softly, formulating a new theory as he struggled to connect the dots. "Don't remind us," Wesley bristled anew. "Harmony could do better than that reprehensible fellow." "That's got to be it," Spike reasoned. "The Senior Partners have got to be behind--" "Enough!" Wesley interrupted, his patience at last exhausted. Another coffee break had been spoiled by Spike's endless conspiracy theories, which of late had become less amusing and more annoying. "I won't listen to this any further. It's tantamount to mutiny. Harmony has worked tirelessly to build up a positive corporate image for Wolfram and Hart. She's the chairperson of the SPCA's Fur Ball for crying out loud!" "It's true, Spike," Fred added with a slow nod. "She's really turned this place around." Spike could hardly miss the new corporate slogan. The hallways and cafeteria prominently displayed the new posters and tag line: "Wolfram and Hart, the corporation that cares". It featured a heart shaped graphic instead of the A in Hart and an action shot of a frisky feline. It wasn't exactly the Wolfram and Hart that Spike thought he knew. He wondered what other changes had occurred. "What exactly do we do here at Wolfram and Hart?" Spike figured that was a reasonable question in light of the changes he'd observed. "I'm heavy into entertainment law these days," Gunn replied. "Contracts, the odd A-list divorce, juggling production of movie deals, computer games, Harmony's record label and, ahem, couturier line." Charles cleared his throat and made a minute adjustment to his fabulous silk tie. "And then there's the reality show. It keeps me hopping." "Entertainment?" Spike needed clarification. Pod people took over Wolfram and Hart in order to run Hollywood? "That's the focus of this place? What about hostile take-overs? Political assassinations? Propping up foreign and inter-dimensional dictatorships? Enslaving billions?" What was the world coming to if Wolfram and Hart couldn't be relied on to be underhanded and evil? "Spike, you know our company no longer follows those unsavory paths," Wesley interjected. "We kill 'em at the box office now." "So, you're telling me that apocalypses are off the table? It's just the length of a girl's skirt and the dimple in some skinny, square jawed tosser's chin that matters?" "That's what you get for being out of the loop. Honestly, a meeting or two wouldn't kill you." Wesley aimed a pointed look at Spike. "For your information I have just determined that an apocalypse may, in fact, be on the horizon." Wesley tried not to look smug but he was tickled with his prophecy translation breakthroughs of late. "May be?" Gunn's forehead folded with concern. "You sounded certain yesterday." "These things are notoriously hard to predict, Charles. Ancient scribes should have developed a more useful short hand. The specifics are a bit muddled at the moment but I'm positive I'm close. More research is needed though." "Damn! I thought I'd get a chance to get out of a courtroom and smack something big and ugly instead of some puny lawyer in a bad suit and comb over." "Now that's what I'm talking about," Spike perked up. "We need to be on the prowl, in the trenches, tracking down the big bads and smacking them down!" "Spike. If and when the apocalypse descends, I'll be more than willing to 'smack them down', as you so eloquently put it, along side you and Gunn and our fearless leader Harmony; but until then, I'll thank you to keep your unhelpful comments to yourself." Wesley stood up to leave. "Now if you don't mind I have research to get back to." Hoping for a few minutes of private conversation, Fred stood and followed Wesley out of the cafeteria leaving Gunn and Spike at the table. With a smooth motion, Charles extended his arm across the top on an empty seat while he crossed his legs. He looked like a model taking a break from a photo shoot. Spike could stand it no longer. "All right Charlie, what gives? Why are you wearing that pink shiny shirt?" "Sunburnt salmon, Spike," Gunn corrected. There was no question, he looked debonair. "Part of the new men's line Harmony's developing...with accessories." Gunn took great pleasure in holding up his wrists so that Spike could see the heavy, studded cufflinks. "Check these out, Spike. Aren't they sick?" "I'm definitely feeling queasy, if that helps." Gunn took no offense. Spike was simply fashion phobic and Charles remembered his own dreary days of triple XL fashion disasters. "Listen man, I can hook you up with some samples, no problem." "I don't think so." Spike would be dust before sunburnt salmon touched his lukewarm skin. "If you change your mind just let me know." Gunn persisted, knowing first hand how updating a wardrobe can open up a world of possibilities. If anyone needed the help of a born again fashion recruit, it was Spike and his tired, outdated wardrobe. Silence from the fidgety vampire ended that conversational thread. "You serious about all this spell stuff, Spike?" Gunn tilted his head in question. Spike nodded. "Okay. You've got me curious. If Harmony's not supposed to be in charge then who is?" "Angel." Gunn choked on the last sip of his coffee. "Angel? Now I know you're joking. The guy can't even type." "He's not supposed to bloody well type." "What's he supposed to do then?" "Fight the good fight. Agitate from the belly of the beast." "Spike, man, I love ya and everything but you've got it all wrong. Wolfram and Hart is a different kind of business. Harmony's got his whole good and evil flow chart. It was a revelation, man. You need to see that flow chart. We're profitable and doing good works. You know about the SPCA thing, right? That's an A-list, black tie affair. Very posh. Plus, we're in the middle of negotiating a stable alliance between the demon factions. It's historic, man." "So you're telling me that Wolfram and Hart is no longer the bastion of everything evil?" "You can't believe everything you hear on CNN, Spike. You should start watching the company's cable network. Harmony does this Pet of the Week show on Fridays. It's inspirational." Gunn ignored the scowl that deepened on Spike's face. "Hey man, maybe you need a pet. It's a scientific fact that pet ownership reduces paranoia significantly. I can't begin to tell you what my Shi-Tzu, Ghengis Khan, has done for my peace of mind. Really. Think about it." Gunn stood and left the table. He wasn't going to be any help. Spike didn't want a pet. He needed to cling to his paranoia and stay sharp. He was not going to get sucked into this Stepford world where Harmony was queen. A shudder slithered up his spine. He needed to stay focused. tbc...