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. 25. The elevator doors opened to reveal a scene of near chaotic frenzy. Office workers swarmed left and right carrying stacks of file folders. To the untrained eye it looked like mayhem but soon an underlying rhythm of clerical choreography became apparent. At the center of the melee a lone figure stood silhouetted against the storm of activity, pen and clipboard in hand, directing the office traffic with ease. Andrew swallowed the excitement thickening his throat and nudged Dawn forward with an elbow. They stepped out of the elevator just as Angel pivoted on the spot to greet them with a friendly smile. "Welcome to Wolfram and Hart." With a few muted directions and hand signals, the flow of traffic abruptly diverted down the hall, allowing Angel the opportunity to see to the visitors. "Omigod!" Dawn squealed a whisper into Andrew's shoulder. "Look at that puffy shirt!" "Whoa. Give him a cape and he's totally D'Artagnan." Andrew's whisper wasn't nearly as derisive as Dawn's. "Dawn, it's good to see you." Angel's people skills showed some improvement. "Hey, Angel." Dawn waved limply. She was too enthralled by the energy of her surroundings to give Angel her full attention. "And your...boyfriend?" Angel inquired. "Who-huh? Andrew?" That statement got her attention. "Not boyfriend," she corrected quickly. "Well, boy and friend, but--" "Andrew Wells." Andrew interrupted with a smooth as silk voice. He assumed his practiced secret agent man facial expression and stuck out his hand. "Chaperone at large." "Have a seat, won't you?" Angel shook Andrew's hand and motioned toward the seating area. Dawn slid into a large, leather club chair half expecting Angel to hand them a menu. Andrew nodded and sat down as well. He looked through the glass divisions into Harmony's office. Unfortunately it appeared empty. Before Andrew could register his disappointment, an unmistakable voice caught their attention from atop the cascading staircase. "And he's like, 'Harmony, come let me worship you in my cavern of riches'--like I haven't heard that one before--and I'm like, 'we offer a full range of client services, but there are some boundaries.' Seriously, I could never get involved with a demon that could fit into my purse with room to spare. Call me fickle, but size does matter. And when does dryer lint qualify as riches?" Harmony paused to accommodate the laughter. "True story, people. Absolutely true, I swear." A group of eager hangers-on parted as Harmony Kendall and a few others descended the stairs. She squeaked with every descending step due to her skin tight, pink vinyl jumpsuit. "Wow, look at that." Dawn's eyes grew to saucers at the dazzling spectacle. Harmony's cascading curls bounced with athletic prowess. "Better than Princess Leia," Andrew murmured and stood at attention, magnetized by Harmony's reflective and squeaky magnificence. He wanted to be suave and sophisticated but the star struck fanboy inside him took aggressive control. He surged forward obeying a mindless impulse he was powerless to control. "HARMONY! I LOVE YOU!" Andrew leapt toward Harmony and was immediately floored by the quick elbow and choking grip of Charles Gunn. "Andrew!" Dawn stood in dismay. Hadn't he looked calm, mature and in control mere minutes ago? She wanted to slug him. "Weapons?" Wesley asked as Gunn patted down the possible threat. "He's clean," Gunn decided and yanked Andrew to his feet. "Explain yourself!" Wesley demanded. "Yeah!" Harmony agreed. "I...I..." Shocked by his brashness and mortified by Harmony's sudden, undivided attention, Andrew swallowed a few dry gulps and tried to explain. "I couldn't help myself. I've had a crush on you since tenth grade." "No way! You went to Sunnydale High?" Harmony's attention bubbled over as she bounced in her feathered sandals. "Uh-huh." She scrutinized Andrew from head to toe. "Funny, you don't look at all familiar." From his gangly body type she would have guessed swim team, or maybe cross country running. "I spent a lot of time shoved into lockers back then," Andrew explained. "He was just leaving." Securing the reception area was Angel's responsibility. He couldn't have just anybody leaping after Harmony. It didn't look good. "Hey, Harmony." Despite her embarrassment, Dawn wasn't about to pass up a chance to speak with Harmony. She managed an easy wave but inside she was squealing. At least some people could keep their nerdish impulses under control. "Wait a minute. You...you look familiar," Harmony pointed at Dawn and tried to puzzle it out. "How do I know you again?" "Um, you kidnapped me in Sunnydale that time?" "Oh, right!" Harmony narrowed her eyelids in thought and then snapped her fingers. "Dawnie Summers! Wow, that's right. My pre-synergy days. Not a pretty picture, huh?" "Yeah. You were totally disorganized back then." Dawn snorted a scathing chuckle before recovering smoothly. "But I was, like, majorly traumatized if that helps any." This unexpected stroll down memory lane unearthed a few troubling issues for Harmony. There were still a few regrets from her wild days. "Please don't hold that kidnapping stuff against me. I was so uncentered back then I practically wobbled!" Angel interrupted Dawn's response. "As I said, they were just leaving." "Yes, I think that's a good idea," Wesley set his jaw sternly. "Calm down, boys," Harmony insisted. "I can spare a few minutes for some old friends." "I knew you could!" Andrew bounced with excitement. "Old friends! She called us old friends!" "Phasers on stun, Andrew." Dawn aimed a fierce look at her companion. She had a fist ready if he tried something goofy again. "You'll have to excuse Andrew, Harmony, he's the excitable kind." "Uh-huh, uh-huh. So...tell me, guys. What's up in Sunnydale these days?" "It's, um, pretty quiet I guess..." Dawn ventured a sideways glance at Andrew. "You know, with the total destruction and everything," Andrew spoke with a thoughtful nod. "Oh, right! Ack! Silly me. Where is my head today? What brings you guys to town?" "We're big fans who just stopped by to say hi," Dawn explained. "Do you think I could get an autograph by any chance, um, please?" "I'm a colleague of your colleague Rupert Giles. Andrew Wells is my name." Andrew finally regained his suave speaking voice. "I hand delivered some artifacts from Mr. Giles about a month ago. I believe you were in closed door meetings at the time." At least that's what Andrew was told. After he bumped into Spike in the lobby, the disappointment of not meeting Harmony dissipated entirely. "Oooh! A council dude. That's cool." "I'm also an amateur videographer," Andrew put in a shameless plug of self promotion. "I've got tons of ideas about chronicling our heroic struggle for posterity." "Wolfram and Hart operates a full spectrum media empire, Mr. Wells," Charles Gunn interrupted. "Television, the Internet, gaming, the works. We're pretty much everywhere." "Oh, I know," Andrew gushed. "I camped outside Harrods for two days to be the first to buy the Ultimate Pink Box system. Wicked graphics there, by the way." "Thanks." Harmony always had time for compliments. "Harmony, we do need to go over those specifics," Wesley pressed on with their business obligations. "The autograph?" Dawn spoke up quickly. "Of course. Pen?" Wesley, Angel and Charles all handed her pens simultaneously. "Paper?" "Use my hand!" Dawn stuck out her hand and promptly received a capital H and a squiggle. "There, it was nice to see you again Dawn." "Keep me in mind, Miss Kendall!" Andrew blurted out. "I'm a self taught filmmaker but totally gonzo in my unbridled enthusiasm--" With a sweet smile Harmony pushed by Andrew and Dawn and entered her office followed by Gunn and Wesley. "That was so cool!" Dawn exclaimed, staring in awe at the heel of her thumb. "I'm never washing my hand again." "She's absolutely gorgeous," Andrew stood in a daze. "Those magazine photos don't do her justice. Talk about porcelain flawlessness." "Dawn? Is that you?" Dawn, Angel and Andrew all turned to see Spike striding down the hallway toward them with a worried look on his face. "Spike!" Andrew rushed forward and grabbed him in an awkward cheek to chest embrace. "It's so good to see you!" "I can't believe I'm saying this, but I'm glad to see you too, Spike." Angel knew these two needed to be gone immediately. "What are you doing here?" Spike spoke to Dawn while he peeled Andrew from his side. Dawn's face clouded immediately. "I'm here to give you the boatload of shit you deserve, you big butt head!" Even Andrew balked at this unexpected turn. "Dawn?" She ignored Andrew and went on the attack, her eyes blazing. "How dare you come back to life, sort of, and stay quiet about it. I'm totally pissed! I thought we were getting to be friends again or something. But I guess not, huh?" Her scathing rebuke hit Spike like a fist in the face. "Dawn...I-- uh-- uh--" "Psych! You should see your face! Uh-- uh--" Dawn mimicked Spike's stunned reaction and dissolved into giggles. "I couldn't resist, that was too easy. I suppose I should be pissed but I stopped wasting my time trying to figure out other people a while ago. I mean, life is too short for that, right? You're human, or were, and a guy, so I guess I can understand the stoicism angle. Andrew's got me watching 'Next Gen' DVDs. The whole Klingon thing has really helped me understand you better and oddly, Buffy too, but don't tell her that. Theoretically, I get the need to be totally forehead, but really? A postcard would have been nice." Spike stood amazed at the speed at which Dawn could speak without taking a breath. "We're here for a visit but guess what? I spoke to Harmony! In person! And I got her autograph! See?" Dawn held up her now treasured sweaty palm squiggle. "Right." Spike sounded blasé but he was concerned. Dawn was affected as well. "Torment the recently resurrected vampire. It's fun for kids of all ages. Look, have you seen Buffy?" "Yeah, she spared me like all of five minutes and--" Dawn abruptly stopped speaking when she realized Angel was still present and listening intently. "This isn't the place for a chat." Spike stepped to the elevator and pressed the down button. He nodded toward Angel. "I'll get these two out of your hair so you can get back to the important filing." "Yeah, you do that." Angel made sure they boarded the elevator before returning to his paperwork. * Andrew and Dawn lingered near the small water feature in the massive lobby while Buffy and Spike talked. "I know this is a lot to ask," Buffy didn't want to impose on him but knew of no other alternative given the short notice. Dawn couldn't wander aimlessly through the streets of L.A. or the corridors of Wolfram and Hart. She'd been there exactly fifteen minutes and already interrupted Harmony's busy schedule by asking for an autograph. Andrew's presence wasn't reassuring either. "With the new security protocols and everything I'll be pulling an all-nighter here and Dawn..." "Say no more. I'll keep her and the boy safe and out of trouble." Spike's instinct to protect nearly overwhelmed him. "You will? Oh, thank you." Buffy breathed a sigh of relief. That was one less complication to obsess about. "We need to talk about a few things, Spike. I mean, if you want. I'd really like to talk." "Talking has never been a problem for me," Spike said and winked. * "So where are we going?" Dawn asked from the back seat. Andrew called shotgun as soon as Spike mentioned a car. The deeply tinted windows prevented bystanders from actually seeing Andrew in such a vehicle but riding up front with Spike was compensation enough. The coolness vibe was positively lethal. "I'll need to stop by a drug store for some decongestant," Andrew requested immediately. "It's the dry, desert air. My sinuses are protesting big time." "Sounds like we're heading for a mall," Dawn chirped up from the back seat. "Um, Spike, that sign back there said interstate something?" Andrew looked around as they merged into traffic. "They've got shopping malls in Vegas," Spike observed. His only thought was to keep Dawn far away from Wolfram and Hart. "By my calculation we should be there just after sundown. What do you say we make a night of it? My treat." "Vegas? That's so cool. Buffy's head will explode!" Dawn's mouth curved into a devious grin. "Can I get a tattoo?" "NO!" Andrew and Spike responded in unison. "Vegas, Spike?" Andrew feared for his baby soft, chaperone skin. "Dawn's still underage and Buffy, um..." "I know what I'm doing. Besides, Vegas is a family friendly town." As much as it pained him to admit it, the Vegas Spike once knew had undergone some serious renovations. With different companions Spike would have dove head first into the seedy trough of wicked delights but with Dawn in tow he'd need to make careful decisions. He wasn't worried though. He'd think of something. "There's loads of PG rated fun to be had, you know, roller coasters and the like." "Way to go Andrew!" Dawn growled. She reached between the seats and pinched Andrew's arm. "Ow!" "I'm not some stupid kid," Dawn collapsed against the back seat with a sullen grumble. "I've fought demons and driven a Vespa through downtown Rome. Try doing that after a couple of cappuccinos!" "That's why I know you're ready for Vegas, Bit," Spike craned his neck and melted Dawn's funk with a saucy wink. Shortly into their journey the Mustang screeched to a halt in the parking lot of a service station. Spike had held his temper in check until Andrew's fidgety exuberance boiled over. The phrase "the three caballeros" had been used. Spike responded immediately to Andrew's suggestion of a group nickname. "If you're going to ride in this car, you'll do well to keep a civil tongue in your head, right?" Maybe Vegas was too ambitious an undertaking after all. "What? What did I say?" "Spike's ears are twitching, Andrew," Dawn tried to help them all out. "Not a good sign. Silence might be the best course of action." "Okay, I'm over the group nickname thing; just call me Dash instead. No, Skooch! Yeah. Hey there, the name's Skooch." Andrew swung both index fingers toward the steering wheel in an attempted digital swagger. Apparently he suffered the misapprehension that synchronous finger pointing fell into the hip and with it categories. "How come Andrew gets a nickname?" Dawn protested. Skooch was certifiably anemic but she wasn't going to be left out of nicknames if they were in the offing. "Enough! No one's getting a bloody nickname. All right?" "Fine," Andrew conceded defeat with a sigh. "Do you think we could revisit our entertainment choices then...William?" "Not another word out of you!" "But--" Andrew interjected. "And any more talk about tickets for bloody Celine Dion and I'm ripping your annoying little hide from your annoying little frame. Got it?" Andrew's bottom lip quivered with dejection. He nodded. "Good!" Dawn breathed a sigh of relief. "I haven't trusted Celine since she let Leonardo die in 'Titanic'. The bitch." "Whatever." Andrew grumbled. "QUIET!" Spike bellowed. "Any more griping from either of you and I'm turning this car around. Do you understand?" The children answered in unison. "Yes, Spike." "Good." Spike leaned sideways and grabbed a CD case from the vicinity of Andrew's feet. "Now listen here: bootleg recording, final U.S. tour. You can practically taste the homicidal reverberation in the amps. Bloody marvelous. 'Bout time you two learned to appreciate the good stuff." "Oh. My. God." Dawn's stricken voice caught Andrew's attention. "What is it?" Andrew twisted his torso toward the back seat. "The Sex Pistols," Dawn frowned and stuck her fingers in her ears. "We're doomed." "Hold on to your pebbles, Andrew," Spike challenged as the car roared its way back onto the highway. "This is music." tbc...