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. 29. A bubble gum pink mini van with purple flames adorning the sides cruised through the quiet streets of the restless city. Fred sat on a swivel seat behind the driver, staring at her laptop and following the blinking beacon of the Wolfram and Hart limousine they were tailing. She provided Lorne with navigating instructions as he drove through the eerily deserted streets. Andrew and Dawn sat squished in the far rear of the vehicle with Buffy and Angel in uncharacteristic silence. Andrew managed to record a few heroic profiles in the shadowy darkness of the vehicle but the staggering breadth of Angel's shoulders made any elaborate camera movement impossible. "The streets are quiet." Wesley remarked, breaking the silence within the crowded vehicle. "Too quiet." Gunn kept his eyes on the road ahead. "And we're standing out like a bloody neon sign." Spike observed. "This is supposed to be a stealth vehicle?" Clown car seemed a more appropriate descriptor to Spike. "Shh! Harmony's meditating." Fred spoke in a stern whisper without looking up from her softly illuminated screen. One glance from Spike revealed the truth. "Harmony's not meditating, she's asleep. Harm! Wake up. Wake up." "Are we there yet?" Harmony woke with a start, disturbing Mr. Pussy who lay curled on a satin kitty pillow on her lap. The cat's presence was something Harmony insisted upon. There was nothing better than a contented pussy, she reasoned, to remind everyone of the important things in life. "Not quite," Lorne answered. Spike swiveled in his seat to confront Harmony. "Now would be a swell time to include us on the specifics of your plan of attack." He was not the only one who was curious about the mission. Wesley and Gunn turned their attention to Harmony as well, eager to hear her cunning plan. So far she hadn't been too specific regarding their tactical offensive beyond her strategic and rousing speech back at the office. Andrew tried to wriggle forward in order to record what he could of General Harmony in the trenches--or passenger van as it were--addressing her loyal troops but Angel's massive presence beside him proved a formidable barrier. Each attempt to achieve a little wiggle room earned him a subtle snarl from Angel. "The plan is simple, super team," Harmony spoke with exuberance. "We get to the secret location, unmask Mr. Marcus Hamilton as the lying, scheming, hellmouth, uh, opener that he is; eliminate his accomplices, foil their dastardly plans and then congratulate ourselves on a job well done." "Sounds reasonable to me." Angel crossed his arms as a sign of immediate and unconditional support. "Omph!" Andrew responded to the inadvertent jab to his ribs. "Andrew, would you stop poking me?" Dawn complained as she also tried to find a more comfortable position. "We should have taken two cars or a school bus. School buses are real handy in a crisis." "Shh!" Buffy ordered. "I can't hear Harmony." "What part of that sounds reasonable?" Spike wasn't about to take Harmony's word on this. Buffy and Dawn were involved. "How are we supposed to stop them? What is our plan of attack? What if this isn't even the night?" "Spike!" Buffy voiced her displeasure. "Stop grilling Harmony." "Come on! Those are absolutely valid questions. Harmony doesn't have any sort of plan, short of dazzling the enemy with her white teeth and fashion élan. Tell me, who goes into battle wearing a mini leather trench coat, thigh high stiletto boots and a bloody tiara in the first place?" "I do, that's who!" Harmony stated firmly. "I was going to wear my Police Officer Naughty hat and bring my cuffs but that would totally give Marcus the wrong message." "Don't listen to him; you look fierce, Harmony." Buffy's muffled voice traveled from the rear of the vehicle. "I've fought plenty of bad guys in sexy outfits." Harmony sent a saucy sneer in Spike's direction before she responded. "Thanks, Slayer. I always knew we could be friends." "Yeah, right," Spike grumbled. "I knew including Spike was a bad idea." Wesley spoke through clenched teeth. "Spike, Harmony has brought us this far without fail." Gunn had hoped Spike could do the all for one thing. "Now is not the time for one of your woe-is-me stunts." "Tension percolates through the ranks of the chosen as the imminent battle approaches..." Andrew narrated a strained whisper over his grainy recording. "Hey, video guy. Take it down a notch." Angel didn't appreciate the intrusive play by play or Andrew's insistence on filming Spike's every nose flick and belt buckle readjustment. Harmony's instructions were quite clear; keep the camera on her. Spike tried again to let common sense prevail. "Does anyone have the slightest clue where we're going? We're following a soddin' blip on a computer screen. Don't get me wrong, I like a scrap as well as the next guy, but what kind of team dives head first into unknown water?" Being the voice of reason was a new role for Spike but he had to try. "Pull over, Lorne!" Harmony bellowed and the mini van came to a screeching halt. "You sound like you want us to fail." Angel leaned forward and cracked a knuckle in warning. Harmony responded with assertive flair. "I refuse to let my super team be contaminated with your negative vibes any longer, Spike. You leave me with no other choice. You'll have to exit the vehicle." "Now, now. Don't get your knickers in a twist." "OUT SPIKE!" The door of the mini van slid open. An exasperated index finger with a rainbow decal on the tip punctuated Harmony's preference. "An unexpected occurrence!" Andrew squealed. His voice soared to melodramatic paroxysm. "The valiant vampire vaulted from the vehicle!" "Shush, Andrew!" Dawn's elbow abruptly silenced Andrew's outburst. "I'm not leaving," Spike vowed. "Angel?" Harmony didn't even have to bat an eyelash. He was already on the move. "With pleasure." Angel gripped Spike's collar and hoisted his protesting form from the vehicle. Once expelled, Spike swung around and wrenched himself from Angel's grasp. He took a moment to straightened his coat and reassert some measure of dignity and then sneered right back at Angel. "And you can just stay here, Mr. Negativity." Harmony scolded with a dismissive wave. "Jeepers, what did I ever see in you in the first place?" Buffy's voice rose from deep in the van. "I'll see you later, Spike, after I help Harmony save the world!" Once Angel slammed the door shut and took Spike's vacated seat the vehicle resumed its heroic journey. Buffy blew Spike a kiss as the van pulled away. Andrew gasped and stared out the window watching Spike's form shrink in the distance. The unthinkable had happened. The team was divided and the outcome was now uncertain. Andrew slumped in his seat and switched off the video camera. Dawn immediately offered him a breath mint. It was a small act of friendship that was much appreciated. As he sucked on the tangy lozenge, Andrew considered the new friendships he had strengthened since Sunnydale died its ignoble death. Dawn was a particularly thoughtful gal, someone who wouldn't let you face oblivion alone or with questionable breath. Perhaps an opportune moment would arise in which she could offer the same thoughtfulness to Angel, because from his recent proximity, Andrew knew Angel could use some minty refreshment. Spike stood in shock at the side of the road watching the van putter off into the fathomless night. Something was definitely wrong with this picture. Cursing wasn't much help, but Spike let loose a colorful burst at full volume anyway. Inevitably, panic set in. Buffy and Dawn were headed who knows where to confront who knows what. Fear for their safety set Spike running at top speed in pursuit of the candy colored van and a date with destiny. * Eventually, Lorne turned the mini van into an empty parking lot. "Fred, are you sure this is the place?" "The beacon should be just ahead...there it is!" Fred pointed to the limousine parked in front of a weather beaten and deserted warehouse. "What is this place?" Lorne asked after he brought the vehicle to a full stop. All of the passengers filed out of the vehicle and stood staring at the edifice before them. A large, faded metal sign read: Parade Nation Amusements, Entertaining America since 1930, C. Vail, Proprietor. "Parade floats? Cool!" At least Harmony was amused. It brought back pleasant memories of baton twirling camp and the Fourth of July. "Doesn't look too sinister," Lorne offered a hopeful note. "Looks can be deceiving," Wesley swept his gaze over the area. "That's the only entrance from this side," Angel pointed to a battered looking door. An intense light suddenly illuminated from above the door and with it the deep, calm voice of Marcus Hamilton filtered out. "Dumpling! This is an unexpected pleasure. I wasn't aware we had plans for tonight." He betrayed no surprise that Harmony and her team had found him. "Security camera," Gunn whispered as all eyes zeroed in on the electronic eye above the door. Andrew zoomed in for a close up. "We need to discuss a few things about our relationship, Marcus. In private." Harmony positioned her cleavage, ensuring that both cameras got a good angle. "Well, come on in." The heavy steel door opened by itself. "Oh, that can't be good." Lorne stepped forward and spoke through a frozen smile. "It's bound to be a trap." "Of course it's a trap," Wesley replied. "Hamilton is nothing if not obvious and tediously so at that." "Well, I'm not going to pass up such a nice invitation," Angel gripped the thick hilt of his sword. "And we've brought party favors." Fevered anticipation shone on his face. At that moment Spike ran across the pavement and came to a stop near the group. "Hey, Spike's back!" Andrew announced. "Everything's going to be okay. Spike's here. The team is united once again!" "Spike! What part of being kicked out of the van didn't you understand?" Her goodwill finally exhausted, Harmony's eyes fired with golden flares. "I can't deal with your crap right now." "Hang on," Spike raised his palms in a conciliatory gesture. "Here to help. Honest! Team player here." "Don't get in my way!" Harmony snarled and stomped away from the van. For the first time Spike could almost believe she actually was a force to be reckoned with. "If you screw this up for Harmony," Angel tossed in his own quiet threat for good measure. "I swear I'll--" "What?" Spike challenged. "If this goes bad, I can only hope the fiery pits of hell incinerate me quicker than your breath. Honestly mate, you could knock out a rabid hippo with that stink. Have you been eating road kill or what?" "That's it--" Angel advanced on Spike. "Stop bickering!" Buffy demanded. She separated the vampires with a fist full of leather in both hands. "I've got an crazy idea. Try acting like you're both champions for once!" "He started it," Angel mumbled. "You really want Harmony to see your true colors, Peaches?" Spike needled. "Might effect your position in the company." "Angel!" Harmony summoned and Angel obeyed. "No cowboy stuff now, Spike," Buffy offered him a battle-axe from the weapons cache they'd brought with them. "I like you in one piece." "Harmony's got this under control, Spike," Dawn assured him. "But I'm still glad you're here." "Just want to be part of the heroing." "Stay alert, Dawn," Buffy advised as she tested the weight of a few swords. Finally she handed a light weight weapon to her sister. "And stay close. You have nothing to prove to me or anyone. I know you can handle yourself." "Got it." The image of Dawn in her corduroy jacket, whiskered jeans and fanny pack brandishing a deadly weapon wasn't entirely incongruous. In no time she became battle ready, looking every inch an apocalypse veteran ready for combat. "When in doubt, Andrew." Buffy handed Andrew a sword for his use. "You're more important than any video footage. Remember that." Andrew nodded his silent reply while emotion thickened his throat. Nefarious schemes of world destruction or domination--particularly those involving hellmouths--are often accompanied by showy diversions. Previous experience indicated that the diversion of choice favored by four out of five evil-doers was a rampaging horde of disposable minions brandishing crudely forged metal weaponry. It came as no surprise when just such a horde appeared from the shadows to attack. Wesley, Gunn, Lorne, Angel and Spike settled into an athletic confrontation with the demons. Harmony paused at the sight of her personal chauffeur clearly siding with the opposing camp. "Agamemnon!" she roared, "this isn't going to look good on your quarterly performance review!" Wesley confronted the duplicitous chauffeur and made sure no further performance reviews would be required. Harmony then headed straight for the open door to the warehouse, followed closely by Buffy, Fred and Dawn. The ensuing fracas blocked Andrew's path and prevented him from following immediately. Fists, feet and fangs flew in a riot of movement. Spike and Angel dove headlong into the savage throng with the volcanic zeal of barely controlled madness. Both soon discarded their weapons in favor of a bloody, hands-on approach. No opponent was a match for their redirected animosities. Although not known for his physical prowess, Lorne proved that he did indeed have skill in battle. One snarling opponent who had the misfortune to claw the hand stitching on Lorne's jacket shoulder found this out soon enough. With an anguished cry rivaling a banshee, Lorne made quick work of the brute. Andrew clipped his camera to his belt loop before clutching his sword with both hands. Stomach acid bubbled up to the back of his throat as every muscle in his body clenched in response to the imminent threat. In a supreme effort to control his mounting terror he clung to a phrase that had soothed him since childhood. It was something that filled the carefree days of his youth with endless possibilities. 'Use the force, Andrew' echoed in his mind as he flung himself headlong into the fray. Wesley ignored the swordplay rules he'd mastered all those years ago at the academy. Finesse wasn't required in this crude arena. This was pure slaughter, ugly and rough. His blade swung through the air over and over again, finding both flesh and steel. Gunn's street fighting instincts came back as he also plowed through demon after demon. He liked the boardroom and the courtroom well enough but it was nice to know he could still throw down like the old days. Mr. Pussy crouched uneasily in the frame of the open van door while his whiskers and tail twitched a restless rhythm. An agitated yowl rumbled in his throat before his instincts sent him scurrying across the parking lot battlefield toward the open warehouse door. As the bodies of the vanquished began to pile up an unusual scent permeated the air. Lorne stilled and scanned the sky. Something indescribably foul hung in the air and made his horns tingle. It was a stench from long ago, as familiar and unwelcome as his mother's inedible cooking. "Heads up!" Lorne suddenly cried out in warning. "Dragon at twelve o'clock!" tbc...