Well, here we are at the end of this pesky, long winded tale. I hope you have enjoyed the journey and had a few laughs along the way. Your kind reviews really helped me maneuver my way through this one. A heartfelt thank you goes out to the magnanimous Sandra (myfeetshowit), a woman of many encouraging words and baffling aliases. All that's left is to rear up on my valiant battle bunny and with the sun at my back say, "Hi-ho, Roderigo, away!" Andrea 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. 34. "There's no place like L.A., there's no place like L.A., there's no place..." Lorne spoke in a sleepy mumble and rose to consciousness. "I think he's waking up." Fred's sweet exuberance echoed through the closing credits of Lorne's disturbing technicolor dream. "Lorne?" "Fred? Is that my little Fredela?" Lorne opened his eyes to the stark white of a hospital room feeling like he'd been fed through a wood chipper and then pieced back together with sparkly glue. Fred sat at his bedside with a rainbow bouquet of happy face balloons tied securely to the back of her chair. "Yes, it's me, Lorne," she spoke gently. "Your friend, Fred. Wesley is here too." "Don't sound so dire, puddin'. I've had worse hangovers," Lorne attempted to raise his head from the pillow and then thought better of it. "But not many. You would not believe the dream I had," Lorne began. He held up his bandaged hands for inspection. "Okay, maybe Harmony singing 'Hungry Like the Wolf' was the dream part." "Could be. We've had a lot of excitement around here," Wesley leaned forward to catch Lorne's eye. "The apocalypse?" Lorne asked. "Not a problem anymore, thanks to you." "And Harmony," Fred added. "I'm just glad she bites for the winning team," Lorne shifted carefully in the bed. "Did I miss all the fun?" "The hellmouth didn't crack open," Fred clarified Wesley's statement, "because of your selfless act of heroism." "It was kinda selfless, wasn't it?" Lorne mused. "Note to self: start following 'Daily Narcissism' calendar religiously." "And when Harmony took care of Hamilton," she added, "the Senior Partners connection to this dimension was severed." Vicarious memories of precisely how Harmony took care of Hamilton drifted through Lorne's mind. "Severed? As in kaput?" he ventured. "Utterly and completely," Wesley crossed his arms with satisfaction and added a smug lip twitch. "The term hubris comes to mind." "Talk about putting all your eggs into one mesomorph!" Lorne chuckled and then reconsidered his fractured cliché. "It's got to be the lack of competition that makes those dimensional biggies go all kinds of lazy." "I do believe their utter inability to contemplate defeat led directly to that outcome," Wesley nodded. "So, what does that mean? Am I still gainfully employed?" "I've had a brief conversation with Angel. He's anxious to completely reorganize the operation here and get back to doing what we did best at Angel Investigations. With the elimination of Hamilton, considerable monetary resources are now at our disposal. It's a thrilling prospect really." "I'll be retiring from the hero game," Lorne made his decision known. "Oh?" "I miss dealing with paranoid liquor distributors, finicky musicians and my adoring public, if the scamps even remember me! From now on I think I'll leave the apocalypses to the trained professionals. If I ever see another glowing dimensional tear it will be too soon, believe me." "You'll always be a hero, Lorne," Fred declared. "Even if you're the kind of hero who pours drinks." "Speaking of heroes, where's that little minx, Harmony? I think she deserves some kudos. I only unplugged the demonic thingamajig, she did the heavy lifting." "She's, um, around," Fred replied quickly. "Yes, definitely in the building," Wesley added a cursory nod. "Okay, what aren't you two telling me? The Senior Partners didn't-- The brutes haven't taken her over, have they?" "Oh, no. Nothing like that," Wesley reassured. "It's just that Hamilton's blood was an exceptionally potent elixir..." "Potent, yes," Fred agreed with a coy smirk. "Harmony's not been quite herself. It's got to be the Hamilton hangover," "Where is she?" Lorne asked. Wesley offered up what little information he had. "Well, the last I heard, she barricaded herself in the copy room and took a hostage." "I don't think hostage is the right word," Fred countered. "I mean, Flewellyn was already in there when she went in." "My God, she hasn't eaten poor Flewellyn, has she?" Lorne blinked, aghast. "No, no. She released him," Wesley chose his words carefully, "eventually--" "They flattened the copy machine, Lorne!" Fred was only too happy to provide some prurient details. "Completely pulverized it. And you think they can pry the grin off Flewellyn's face?" She proved herself an engaging little gossip, much to Wesley's consternation. "Now Fred, that's just idle speculation," he cautioned. "In need of repair is more accurate and pulverized is simply a needless exaggeration." "Well, maybe it was Flewellyn who was pulverized," Fred speculated gleefully. "I swear, he's walking like a rodeo clown today." "Now there's a disturbing visual," Lorne interjected. "Fred, you really shouldn't be spreading this kind of unsupported rumor around. It's quite unbecoming. And Lorne needs his rest. Perhaps we should go." "Oh, of course." Fred stood and took Wesley's hand. She winked at Lorne and mouthed that she'd return without Wesley for more idle chat and scandalous gossip. "Yeah, let someone else step in for a bit." All eyes turned to the door where Spike and Buffy stood. "I'll see you later," Fred smiled sweetly at Lorne and left the room. "How are the hands?" Spike inquired as he stepped into the room. "Still a bit on the crispy side." "You remember Buffy." "Yes, Spike," Lorne knotted his brow. "I do have some recall. Bonds forged in apocalypse have a way of sticking with you, not unlike molten, hell machine innards. Buffy, it's good to see you." "Hey, Lorne," Buffy waved. "You're looking very green today." "Aren't you sweet. I must look a fright." "Dawn wanted me to give you this." Buffy held up a handmade card. Dawn drew a flattering cartoon portrait of Lorne with bulging biceps and a super hero cape. "She and Andrew had to get back to England." "Aw, what a thoughtful gesture, and so accurate. Look at those muscles! I swear it's like looking in a mirror. I'll miss that sarcastic little dickens." "I'll put it with the others." Buffy propped up the card on a bedside table teeming with get well wishes. "So, how are you two kids now that all the excitement's over?" "I got my Buffy back," Spike drew his arms around Buffy and interlocked his fingers. "That's all I wanted." "And the world is safe from the Senior Partners." Buffy snuggled into Spike's embrace. "Wesley mentioned that." "Giles confirmed it," she added. "The mystical plane has stabilized." "And-- Angel." "I'm sure he'll find something to complain about quick enough," Spike sighed. "Lorne," Angel spoke from the doorway. "Come on in, Angel," Lorne flashed a brilliant smile. "The more, the merrier." "I won't stay long." Angel stepped into the room. "Good," Spike pronounced. "Don't start, Spike," Buffy warned. "I won't if he doesn't," Spike flexed his lips sullenly. "Grow up already," Angel snapped. "Take another shower, you still stink." "I've had it with you two," Buffy snarled. "You're obsessed with this macho crap and I'm sick of it. You're both champions--" "Did I miss the part when Spike slayed a dragon?" Angel aimed a nasty look at Spike. "Oh wait, that was me." "Right. We're back to 'I slayed a dragon'. Buffy, we're not going to hear the end of this. Next it's going to be his other top ten hit, 'Stay Away From Buffy, Or Else'." "You two are just like little kids." Buffy shook her head. "Pretty soon you'll be giving each other wedgies." "Hey, don't be giving him any ideas," Spike complained. "Don't mind me," Lorne interjected with an unpleasant grin. "I'm only the patient, lying here all helpless and, may I add, in excruciating pain. Please, continue with your entertaining melodrama. I swear it's like being back in the armpit of my own maternal cesspool." "Oh sorry, Lorne," Buffy offered an apology. "No more bickering, you two, and that's final!" There was a pause before both vampires let loose a mild harrumph. "I sympathize, fellas," Lorne explained, "Really, I do. Families are twisty little labyrinths but we all have those rotting albatrosses around our necks. It's just a matter of learning how to accessorize." The vampires exchanged suspicious looks. "And a few happy thoughts wouldn't be out of place," Lorne nodded. "I mean, the world not ending sounds like a good foundation for a fresh start for our dysfunctional duo here." "I agree," Buffy nodded. "We did sort of work well for a while there," Angel admitted begrudgingly. Spike managed a petulant shrug in response. "By golly, I think we may have achieved détente!" Lorne beamed with excitement. "There are going to be some changes around here, Lorne." Angel returned to the reason for his visit. "I'd like to talk to you about that when you're feeling better." "We could talk," Lorne allowed. "Angel, don't you think it's about time you put Spike on the payroll?" Buffy stared at Angel awaiting an answer. "What?" Angel replied. "I think he'd be the perfect choice for a liaison position with the Council. That way, the good guys can form a unified front." "What?" Spike stood aghast. "The Council?" Buffy ignored Spike's complaint and continued to stare at Angel. "Unless you don't want to take advantage of Spike's unique skills," she continued. "I'm sure Giles can find a full-time position for him in London or Rome, with a generous benefits package. In fact, I'm certain he can." "Rome sounds good to me," Spike winked at Buffy. "I might be able to fit him into the restructuring I'm planning. I mean, he's got the soul and, you know," Angel's voice shriveled to a whisper, "pretty good instincts." "I'll need new digs," Spike started the negotiations with a few demands, "above ground this time, and a car. The Mustang will do for starters but I think it'll need a custom paint job." "We'll see," Angel sighed. "And an office!" Spike added. "Put me across from Charlie. We get along real good. His music is piss poor, but he's good for a pint and a laugh." "I said we'll see." "I'll want to see his contract," Buffy added. "Before anything is signed." "Whatever," Angel grumbled. "This is historic!" Lorne cheered. "We should have some bubbly to celebrate! They can just hook me up to another IV." "Think that dragon chewed some sense into him?" Spike whispered in Buffy's ear. "Shush! You're getting that dental and we need funds for, you know, the thing." Buffy pointed a look at Spike. "Oh, that's right," Spike remembered. "The lady and I have some boudoir shopping to do." He aimed a wink directly at Angel. "Bigger bed and all that, you understand; after all, a bloke likes to stretch out and be comfy." "Spike," Buffy reminded him, "people don't need to know our business." "Our business. Hear that?" he flared his eyebrows at Angel and giggled. "We have business." "Do you know you laugh like a teen-age girl?" Angel lobbed another insult. "That all you can come up with...Barry?" Spike tucked his thumbs behind his belt buckle. "You're starting up again. Stop starting!" Buffy ordered. "I think you two get some perverse pleasure out of this pointless arguing." "And you're only discovering this now?" Lorne asked. "It's not pointless. I have a point." Spike asserted. "Me too!" Angel nodded. "Dare we ask?" Lorne winked. "Really not that interested," Buffy sighed. The two vampires looked genuinely wounded. "All right, what?" "He's an idiot!" Angel declared. "He's a pompous git!" Spike asserted. Buffy stood with her hands on her hips. "Fine. Happy now?" "Well..." "Um..." "I don't know about you Spike," Buffy continued, "but I'm going to the store. If you have any notion of being horizontal with me ever, ever again, I suggest you come with me. Now." Spike seamlessly altered his posture and started for the door. "Coming dear." "Ahem-henpecked!" Angel faked a cough. "I made her swoon, gramps." Spike put his arm around Buffy. "Gave her the trembles. Pity you weren't there." "Swoon?" Angel looked skeptical. "Spike is a great dancer," Buffy testified. "He really is. Feel better, Lorne. See ya, Angel." With that said, Buffy and Spike were out the door. In less than a minute Angel heard kissing sounds in the vicinity of the elevator. His dour expression said it all. "And I thought being swallowed by a dragon was horrible." "Happy thoughts!" Lorne encouraged. All Angel could manage was a sigh. * Harmony paced back and forth outside Angel's office, gathering her courage for the inevitable confrontation. At last she decided to act. She slipped through the door slowly, trying to gauge what kind of potential wrath she may be facing. She'd be lucky to be banished to the steno pool. Things had occurred, mystical things of her unknowing instigation. Not knowing what ramifications were in store for her was awful. The office looked different, normal again. She missed her pink furniture and the cheery platoons of crystal unicorns. They really gave the space that touch of class. She swallowed heavily when she looked upon the empty space where the upholstered cat tower once stood. "Um...Angel? It's me, Harmony. I've got your vole...straight up, just how you like it." She looked around the sumptuous interior and finally spied Angel hunched in the corner, deep in a leather chair with his elbows on his knees. "Meditating? I can come back--" "Harmony." She knew that tone of voice. Pack up your post-its and kiss the corporate high life good-bye. It was time to pay the piper. "Before you stake me, let me just say that I'm sorry for everything; and really, really sorry, not just fake sorry either." Harmony batted her eyelashes and tried to look sincere. "Harmony, I'm not going to stake you." Angel's face betrayed no emotion but his voice softened. "You're not?" She brightened momentarily before her mind wandered into the worse-than-staking areas. "Um, are we talking torture? Because I have a documented allergy that--" "No torture." Harmony bit her glossy lower lip waiting for a fate worse than torture to fall from the ceiling and squish her. "Angel?" "I've been thinking about some of the changes that you implemented as CEO." "Oh, you can forget all that crap." "No, I can see now how some things need to change." "Huh?" "It's a big responsibility, being in charge." "It's, like, totally humongous. Angel, I don't know how you do it. The stress, the assassination attempts. Seriously, I was just hanging on by my professional manicure." "Don't sell yourself short, Harmony. You did a...fine job." "I-- I did?" A compliment was the last thing she expected. "Better than I did in your position." Angel sent her a pained, knowing look. Harmony could offer no argument there. Angel possessed a variety of heroic skills but wasn't cut out for the sheer brutality of the secretarial trenches. Compared to juggling demanding clients and endless pieces of paper, plus a phone that never stopped ringing, slaying a dragon was peanuts. "You brought us together," Angel remembered. He hadn't felt that camaraderie in a long time. "The team, I mean. You're a natural at that." "It's a great team, Angel." "Yeah. We are." Angel motioned toward the chair in front of him. "Would you mind?" "Would I mind what?" Harmony approached him with caution still in her step. "Can I ask you a personal question?" "Shoot." Harmony plopped down on the chair opposite Angel. "Have you ever considered yourself...cookie dough?" Angel wasn't very experienced in discussing personal matters but this was something he needed a sounding board for. Harmony knitted her eyebrows together. A heart to heart with Angel was tougher than she had ever imagined. "Cookie dough? I can't say I've ever...um..." "Unfinished, incomplete...in need of..." Angel's voice trailed off. How that cookie dough quip had haunted him. "An oven?" The edge of Harmony's lip arched in question. "Exactly." Angel gestured with his index finger. "What is this in reference to?" Harmony was stumped. Maybe it was a trick question. "It's something I've been trying to figure out." "Ah," Harmony nodded thoughtfully. She was good at figuring things out. Sometimes she'd been a little late with the solution but she always gave her best effort. "Uh, do you think that I'm cookie dough?" Harmony was hoping for a gal Friday sort of vibe; indispensable, computer savvy, good with her fangs in a crisis, that sort of thing. Being likened to flour and sugar soaked in raw eggs didn't exactly spell out Secretary of the Year to Harmony, but, if she had to be cookie dough, she'd be the chocolate chunk kind. "No-- Someone said--" "Somebody said they were cookie dough?" Okay, this was starting to make sense. There was no way Angel could come up with that kind of reference on his own. Cookie dough talk and a perplexed Angel meant one thing: woman trouble. "Was this by any chance a woman?" Harmony immediately thought of that weirdo werewolf chick because no way would Fred go for such a lame comparison. Fred would totally be Texas barbecue but she wouldn't want Angel to do the nibbling. She was definitely a Wesley morsel. But howling wolf girl? She'd say something like that. Anyone who owned that many gauzy peasant blouses was capable of anything. "Um." "And this was in reference to a personal issue between you two?" "Uh-huh." Harmony firmed her jaw and nodded. This was one of those times when she could illuminate the feminine perspective. Harmony knew from bitter experience that romance and power were a slippery combination. Angel had to be in control and be seen to be in control, even if he was up to his short and curlies in mystical crap. He couldn't be sniffing about after some periodically hairy chick in dire need of a personal hygiene regimen when the world needed him doing champion stuff. "Angel." Harmony spoke plainly knowing that a little tough love was required. "Anyone who would come out with something as lame as that is just not that into you." Angel wiped his face with the palm of his hands. "I was heading in that general direction." "Forget her, Angel," Harmony advised. "Don't worry, you are a major catch." Angel shifted uneasily in his chair. "You've got the height requirement down pat and your own hair. Those are very important considerations in Los Angeles. Plus, in case you haven't noticed, you do the dark avenger vibe like gangbusters. I think you could even be a cover model for those vampire romance novels. I've seen your chest, Angel. You are hot." Angel wrinkled his brow. "Vampire romance? There's vampire romance novels? Whatever happened to good old-fashioned bodice rippers?" "Oh there's still ripping. And eviscerating and other sexy stuff. We are erotically in vogue. Imagine the straights finally figuring that one out--" A woman's voice interrupted Harmony's next thought. "Excuse me?" Nina stood in the doorway. "Hey." "Hey." Angel stood and stared at Nina. Buffy and Spike and a thousand petty grievances fled his thoughts. There was Nina in his office looking at him like that. He'd missed her. "Okay, that's my cue," Harmony stood. "I'll just say good-bye now and gather up my things." Angel turned his attention back to Harmony. "What are you talking about?" "I'm sure you'll want your new assistant installed by morning." "You're not fired, Harmony." "I'm not?" "Wolfram and Hart--whatever we'll be calling this place--is going to need someone indispensable like you. Someone who's ready to jump in and do what's needed." Angel finally said it. The ultimate compliment. Harmony stood stunned for a second before speaking. "Morning meeting tomorrow? Just like always?" "No. Day after tomorrow," Angel instructed. "Nina and I need some time. Yes?" Nina nodded. "Yes." "Have a nice evening, Harmony," Angel turned and walked to the door. "I know a little bed and breakfast up the coast," he caressed Nina's face with his eyes. "I'm told they do an excellent spread. Interested?" "Absolutely." Angel and Nina left the office and sauntered toward the elevators arm in arm. Harmony returned to her desk. It looked empty and lifeless, just like she felt. Rounding the corner she spotted a tiny ball of black and white fur digging behind her garbage pail. "Oh, no. Not again." A soft whistle brought her attention to the end of the hall. Charles Gunn stopped and looked into each open door. "Genghis...here boy," he called in a subdued voice. "Are you looking for this?" Harmony held up the wriggling canine. Gunn looked up from his search. "Well?" Unconsciously, Gunn assessed the avenues of escape. "I'm not going to bite you," Harmony calmed his fears. "Although you're totally bitable in that cute pink shirt." Gunn flexed uneasily in his button front shirt. "Relax, Gunn. I'm a lethal weapon but I aim for the bad guys. So, if you've got anybody targeted for elimination, I'm your gal." Harmony smiled sincerely. "I'll keep that in mind." Gunn approached her desk but stopped abruptly when he was overtaken by an earth shattering sneeze. "I see you've-- Ahh...ahhh...CHOO..." "Here," Harmony snagged a box of tissues and handed them to Gunn. "Thanks. He's been running out of my office since I got to work." "Why do you still have a dog? The whole spell thing ended." "He wasn't conjured. I b-- bahh-- bahhhhCHOO!" Gunn snuffled and wiped tears from his eyes. "Bought him." "And you're allergic?" "It's the dander," he nodded. "My place is being steam cleaned. I'm taking him back to the shelter, unless..." Charles quirked his eyebrow. "I couldn't love another animal, Gunn. Not after what I've suffered." Harmony repositioned the tiny dog in her arms and scratched under its chin. Genghis looked up at her with eyes of adoration. "Of course. And I would never ask." "He is kinda cute, though. Does he have all his shots?" "Uh-huh." Harmony tilted her head in thought. Maybe in time she could love again. "Has he shown any skill in casting spells? You haven't spent any time as King of the World, have you?" "No. He's one hundred percent dog." "Well, he's almost the cutest thing I've ever seen!" Harmony began to melt. "Look at that face. Who's a cute puppy? Who is? It's you...it's you!" An excited, raspy bark answered Harmony's animated speech. She tickled his furry belly and giggled. Her eyes soon spied something missing between the squirming pup's legs. "Are you sure this dog is a Genghis? Because I don't see any of the, um, necessary equipment." Harmony pointed delicately toward the region in question. Gunn spied the area from a discreet distance. "Oops. Definitely not a Genghis there." "Good. Because that name would have to go. I mean, what a thing to saddle such a cutie, widdle fur ball with! She's just the sweetest doggie ever!" The dog barked and licked her chin. "Yeah! You're a rebel! Just like me. Does she come with accessories?" "Well, I've got a bowl--" "She'll definitely need sunglasses, this is L.A. after all. And a collar and maybe a trench coat to match mine." "So, you'll take her?" "I suppose we could have a trial thingy." "That sounds great," Gunn smiled with relief. "Thanks." He started walking away. "Okay, then. See ya!" Harmony waved to Gunn and then looked down at her new companion. "Let's go see how Lorne's doing, okay?" The tiny dog wagged its tail furiously. Harmony trotted over to the bank of elevators and pressed the button. When the doors opened, a wall of stink hit Harmony. The elevator reeked of recent, raunchy sex. "Ew!" She backed away quickly, shielding her nose from the foul yet familiar pheromones. A faint sound wafted up the hollow elevator shaft. It was an evil, throaty giggle. "Yuck!" She crinkled her nose in disgust. "I'm never using that elevator again! It's contaminated!" Harmony's protests received no response. The floor was eerily vacant. "Let's take the stairs." The tiny dog followed Harmony down the corridor to the stairwell. "I can't wait for Lorne to meet Miss Puppy Galore." * Buffy primped in the passenger seat vanity mirror, arranging her hair and reapplying her lipgloss. "Doesn't that prove my point, love?" Spike smirked. "It's never been about a bed for us." "It's about privacy, Spike. What if Wesley had pressed the elevator button, or Angel." "Yeah, that would have been awful." "Spike!" Buffy rummaged through her purse. "I've got a coupon here for a free bedskirt with purchase." "Don't know if I want a bedskirt." Spike revved the motor. "You might have to convince me." "Just drive," she said. The End.