An ‘Angel: the Series’ fiction.

Takes place during and immediately after the series finale“Not Fade Away“.

Pyromania

Harmony looked at the clerk’s neck and briefly considered eating him. She was a vampire, after all; but it had been such a long time since she had fed from a human that she was out of the habit, and instead she took her credit card from her purse and paid for her gas and cigarettes just as she had been doing for the past year. She walked glumly back to her car, started the engine, and drove off aimlessly. What was she going to do now? Where was she going to get another job? How was she going to feed? Was Angel going to be all right?

“I hope he knew what I meant,” she said aloud.

“Meant by what?” a voice said from the passenger seat.

Harmony yelped in surprise, looked across, and the yelp turned into a scream. She stamped on the brakes. “You’re dead!” she exclaimed. “You’re dead.”

“So are you,” Cordelia Chase replied, a smug smile on her face. “Since when has that stopped us?”

Harmony jumped as a car horn blared at her. She started the car again, pulled over to the kerb, and stopped. “Cordy! But you’re dead. Okay, dead here too, but I’m a vampire, talking kinda allowed.” She reached out to touch her old friend, and her hand passed through Cordelia’s shoulder. “Shoulda guessed. You’re that First Evil thing Spikey fought. Well, not listening.”

“I’m not the First Evil, Harmony. They’ve let me come back again, sorta like they did the day I died, only no solid body this time. I’m here to help.”

“Yeah, well, kinda late. Everything’s all gone to Hell. Maybe literally. Angel’s sorta wound up the Wolfram and Hart gig. He’s fighting this major tough guy, don’t know if he’s gonna win out, and he fired me. Just ‘cause I told the guy his plans, and I know Angel expected me to do just that, so I don’t see what he’s mad at me for. If he’d had some confidence in me I would have totally justified it.”

“What did you mean by ‘I hope he knew what I meant’?” Cordelia asked again.

“Well, I said ‘You’re the best’, and then I said ‘May the best man win’, and I was like trying to say that I was on Angel’s side and I wanted him to win but I didn’t want to say it flat out ‘cause I’m scared of Hamilton, so I was trying to hint it. Think he knows?”

“Maybe,” Cordelia replied. “It won’t matter, soon. He’s going to die. Unless you can save him.”

“Me? What can I do?” Harmony squirmed in her seat. “If it’s fighting that Hamilton guy, I tried that already, and he just swatted me like a fly. I can’t do squat against him, which is why I didn’t hang around to help Angel.”

“No, Angel’s already killed Hamilton,” Cordelia informed her.

“Yay! Go Boss!” Harmony squealed, grinning all over her face. “He’s like totally cool. So how come he’s going to die?” she went on, the grin vanishing. “And what can I do? ‘Cause, just a girl here, vampire strength but not totally with the fighting, not like the boss and Spikey. But if I could do something I would. Personal Assistant here, really would like to get with the assisting, even though he fired me, ‘cause he could like unfire me, right? What can I do, Cordy? Guide me, like Lorne said you would, back when I came to stay with you and like majorly fucked up, which I’m so totally sorry for.”

“I know,” Cordelia told her gently. “Still friends, right?”

“Yeah. Still friends. Dead or not, Cordy, still friends.”

“Wesley’s already dead,” Cordelia explained. “The others are alive, but Wolfram and Hart are sending an army of demons to finish them off. Too many for them to have a chance against. Angel, Gunn, Spike, and that Illyria creature will be dead within half an hour.”

“Wesley’s dead?” Harmony asked, shocked. “Oh, God, not Wes. He pulled me out of the typing pool, got me this job, was really good to me. Next best friend to Fred that I had in the whole place, until Fred died and he sorta went to pieces. Still, guess now he’s with Fred, so maybe not totally of the bad, but still… shit, think I’m gonna cry.” Harmony sniffed and dabbed her eyes with a tissue. “So not fair. Why do the people I like have to die? So what can I do to stop it happening to the boss and Spikey and Charles?”

“Think outside the box,” Cordelia urged her cryptically. “A big mob of demons, crammed into an alley, all packed together too closely to pick off one by one. They’ll run right over Angel, Spike, Illyria and Gunn and flatten them like a Mack truck running over a coyote.”

Harmony’s brow wrinkled as she thought hard. “This is that Powers That Be crap, isn’t it? Hints and prophecies, no nice straight answers. They don’t let you just tell me?”

“Nope. You have to figure it out for yourself. There’s all sorts of rules about how I can interfere. Not allowed to just tell you.”

“That sucks,” the blonde vampire complained, looking around for inspiration. She saw a tanker truck parked at the gas station she had recently left, and her eyebrows climbed. She turned back to Cordelia. “That gas truck. Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

“I think so, Brain, but where are we going to find six hamsters, a stapler, and a pair of leather pants at this time of night?” Cordelia replied, deadpan.

“Six – oh.” Harmony burst out laughing, and then turned serious. “Cordy – I totally love you, you know that?”

“I know. Still friends, always and forever.”

“If I don’t make it – any way I might end up where you are, even though I’m a vampire?”

“I don’t know, Harmony. Maybe. I’ll see what I can do. You do your best. The alley behind the Hyperion.”

“Yeah, I know. I didn’t tell Hamilton that bit. Guess the Senior Partners found out anyway, huh? I’ll do my best. Not that it’s ever been good enough before but, hey, always a first time.”

“You’ll do just fine, Harmony. I love you.” Cordelia smiled at her school friend one last time and then faded away and vanished.

Harmony took a deep, unneeded, breath, cracked her knuckles, and opened the car door. “Okay, let’s do this,” she said to herself, and climbed out. “Hang on, Boss, Blondie Bear, Charles, Momma Smurf. Here I come to save the day. As if. Get real. I’ll screw up again. Still, gotta give it my best shot. Show them they coulda had confidence in me. Or at least try to show them.”

***

The truck thundered through the streets, gears grinding horribly as Harmony messed up the changes. Stage one successfully accomplished. She hadn’t even needed to try to remember Spike’s lessons in how to hotwire a vehicle; she’d found the driver on his way back to the truck, knocked him out from behind, and taken his keys. Now she was sitting in front of 3,000 gallons of gasoline, minus however many had been delivered to the gas stations on the truck’s run. For all she knew the tanker was empty; she had no idea which one of the cab’s dials might relate to the tank capacity. Still, even a tankload of vapor ought to do some damage, right?

She shivered, not with cold but with fear. She was growing more nervous with every missed gear change. She noticed a CD player in the dashboard, and some loose CDs on the passenger seat, and she fumbled one into the player hoping for something which would take her mind off things for a little while. Trucker, so probably Country. If she was lucky it would be Shania Twain or the Dixie Chicks; if unlucky it would be Toby Keith. She hit random play and the speakers erupted with sound.

‘Gunter glieben glauchen globen
All right
I’ve got something to say
It’s better to burn out
Than to fade away…’

So much for the trucker stereotype. Def Leppard. ‘Rock of Ages’, from the album ‘Pyromania’. She’d heard it when she was with Spike. One of his favorite non-Punk tracks, probably because of the subject matter, and one of the few of his records that she had found tolerable. Until Spike had dumped her after finding the Gem of Amara and she’d retaliated by pouring gasoline over most of his records, including that one, and setting fire to them. An omen? Maybe. Had to be a good omen, right? She smiled, feeling heartened, and began to sing along.

“Gonna start a fire
C’mon!

Oh let's go, let's strike a light
We're gonna blow like dynamite
I don't care if it takes all night
Gonna set this town alight, c'mon,”

Yeah. Gonna set this town alight, baby. Rock on. Here I come to save the day. Or die trying, which is maybe more likely. Harmony set her jaw determinedly and drove as fast as she could.

***

“Well, personally I kind of want to slay the dragon,” Angel announced. He readied his sword as the demon horde approached. “Let’s go to work.”

An air horn blared behind him, and an engine roared. The surviving Angel Investigations members looked around, and saw a gasoline tanker truck hurtling towards them, the cabin lit by flickering flames, a female figure at the wheel gesturing frantically at them to get out of the way. They flattened themselves against the sides of the alley as the truck thundered by. The driver’s door swung open and the girl leaped out, her clothes burning, and landed on the ground rolling.

Spike rushed to the girl. “Sodding Hell, it’s Harm!” he exclaimed, beating at her burning clothes. Angel and Illyria joined him a second later, and Gunn staggered towards her more slowly.

“Run for your lives!” Harmony urged weakly. She tried to scramble to her feet but was too stunned. “Save yourselves, it’s gonna blow!” She raised her head again, blacked out, and collapsed.

Illyria snatched her from the ground and ran like the wind, the others running with her. Spike wriggled out of his coat as he ran and was just about to use it to smother the flames on Harmony’s dress when the tanker truck crashed into a wall, toppled over, split open, and exploded.

***

The dragon pulled its wing free of the chain link fence, snarled, and shook its head. It looked back along the alley to where the horde of demons had been charging when the blast of hot air had sent the dragon spinning off course and caused it to crash. All that was there was a wall of fire; a few figures moved feebly within the inferno, and the sound of demonic screams mingled with the crackling of the flames. It turned its head back towards its intended prey and looked into the eyes of Illyria.

She cocked her head. “I still want to do more violence,” she announced, and leaped at the dragon. Angel followed close behind her, sword raised. The dragon recoiled. Snatching up puny ground-dwellers and carrying them off, taking advantage of its mobility in three dimensions against creatures limited to two, was one thing; fighting them tooth and claw in a confined space was a very different matter. It tried to gain space to flap its wings for flight; too late.

***

Harmony opened her eyes. She looked up at a familiar ceiling. She was lying on her own bed, in her own apartment. “Was it a dream?” she mumbled, and turned her head. Illyria was sitting on the edge of the bed, looking down at her impassively.

“The female awakes,” the ancient being called to someone unseen, and then reached out a hand and touched Harmony gently on the cheek. “Your great deed was no dream. The demons perished in your inflammable chemicals, a funeral pyre the like of which I have not seen in a million years.”

“Yeah, well, you were in this creepy sarcophagus down a well, not much to see,” Harmony muttered. She raised herself up on her elbows. “Did it work? Is everybody okay?”

“How are you feeling, Harm?” Spike asked, entering the room.

“My head hurts a lot,” she told him,“and my right arm really smarts.” She turned her head and looked at her shoulder, and saw a bandage. “Did I get burned?”

“You did. What did you set the cab on fire for, you daft muggins?” Spike sat down on the opposite side of the bed to Illyria and smiled at Harmony affectionately.

“Had to make sure the gasoline caught fire,” the blonde vampire explained. “Think I lit it a bit too soon.”

“Maybe you did,” Spike agreed. He grinned at her. “God, Harm, that was sodding brilliant of you. Saved us all. Like me to grovel now, or should I save it until you’re feeling better?”

“Charles? The boss? Are they okay?”

“Angel took Gunn to the hospital. We think he’s going to be okay. Angel’s got a cell phone with him, he’ll call when there’s news. Get you some blood?”

“Please. Why does my head hurt?”

“The bony structure protecting your brain was cracked,” Illyria informed her. “It had suffered an impact when you exited the moving vehicle.”

Harmony looked blank.

“You fractured your skull when you jumped out of the truck, Harm,” Spike interpreted. “It seems to be mending okay. Take things easy for now, pet. I’ll get that blood, it’ll help you heal.”

“My car!” Harmony exclaimed suddenly, struggling up to a sitting position. “It’s not locked, and my purse is in it, and the keys and everything. It’ll get stolen. Or towed away by the cops.”

“I’ll go get it, or give Angel a call and get him to bring it over,” Spike assured her. “Where’d you leave it, pet?”

“Just a bit up the road from the gas station, two blocks north of the office,” Harmony told him. “Where I stole the truck.”

“I’d best get it as soon as possible, then. The cops’ll be sniffing round there before long. ‘Fact, if they link up the fire and the truck and where it was nicked, they’ll be more than sniffing, they’ll swarming all over the area like kiddies at a Harry Potter premiere. I’ll give Angel a ring right now, okay?” Spike went to the phone.

“You need sustenance urgently, and yet the white-haired one’s task is also urgent,” Illyria mused. “I shall demean myself and prepare your blood. Do you keep blood in your refrigerator?”

“I can get it myself,” Harmony told her, and climbed slowly from the bed. “I’m okay. I’m a vampire, we heal quick.” She made her way towards the kitchen. After a few steps she felt dizzy, swayed, and might have fallen if Illyria had not moved quickly to take her arm and support her. With Illyria’s assistance she made it the rest of the way, took out a carton of blood, and heated it to body temperature in her microwave. “Don’t know where I’ll get otter now,” she lamented, and took a drink. “Still, goat’s not bad, and I can get that from the halal butcher. I’ll get by.”

“No answer from Angel,” Spike reported. “He must be in a bit of the hospital where they don’t allow cellphones. Or else the dozy git forgot to switch it on, he’s not too hot with anything invented after the flintlock musket. I’ll go and get your car, Harm.” He frowned, and looked at Illyria uncertainly. “You okay with staying here and keeping an eye on Harmony?”

The Ancient One tilted her head and looked at the vampire girl, then looked back at Spike and unexpectedly smiled, for a moment looking shockingly like Fred. “I have no objection. It must be done. Go now.”

“Fred had affection for you,” Illyria told Harmony, after Spike had departed.

“I thought so,” Harmony replied. “She was always nice to me. Actually, she was nice to pretty much everybody. You’ve, like, gotten her memories, right?”

“As you have the memories of Harmony Kendall although you are a demon inhabiting her shell, just as I inhabit the shell of Winifred Burkle,” Illyria agreed. “We are alike. Yesterday I would have slain you for your presumption had you dared claim such resemblance; and yet it is true, and I no longer feel demeaned by admitting as much.”

“My demon bit doesn’t have any memories. As far as I’m concerned I am Harmony Kendall, so, not really the same as you. You remember both, that’s gotta be weird.” Harmony looked at Illyria uncertainly. “Fred really liked me?”

“She did,” Illyria confirmed. She tilted her head to one side and her eyes lost focus. “Had she lived she would have asked you to be the attendant to her at a ceremony. Her ‘bridesmaid’.” Her gaze became sharp again. “An honor and a sign of affection, I believe.” Illyria kept to herself the slight feeling of desperation associated with that decision in Fred’s memories, and the accompanying thoughts ‘it’s not like I have a lot of girl friends in LA, I really can’t think of anyone else’.

“She was going to ask me to be her bridesmaid? Wow. I mean, like, wow. My God. That is so – I wish Fred hadn’t died. I mean, not that I have anything against you, Illyria, I mean you’re really cool and all that, but Fred was my friend and I miss her. Why couldn’t that little weasel Knox have given you his body if he wanted to bring you back?”

“It was not my choice. I would that he had chosen one not so beloved, but I cannot undo what was done.”

“I know, not blaming you, all Knox’s fault.” Harmony finished the last of the blood and set her mug down on the kitchen table. “Hey, wonder if the fire made the TV news? Must have been pretty big, right?”

***

The sound of voices and the yapping of a small dog sent Harmony to the door. Illyria watched her, ready to move to her assistance if required, but the blonde vampire suffered no repetition of her dizziness. She opened the door and peered out. Spike was there, accompanied by Angel, and they were talking to Harmony’s neighbor from across the hall, who held her dog in her arms and tried to restrain it from barking at the two male vampires. “Hello, Mrs. Jacobi,” Harmony said hesitantly. The old lady usually ignored her, and never responded to her polite greetings; on this occasion, however, Mrs. Jacobi surprised her.

“Oh, Harmony, my dear,” the old lady smiled. “Your employer was just telling me how proud he is of you. Are you all right? That is a nasty bruise.”

“What? Oh, yeah, I’m fine, thanks, Mrs. Jacobi,” Harmony replied, somewhat confused. She had no idea what Angel could have been saying; he could hardly have told the old lady the truth. She raised her hand to her forehead to where she guessed the bruise must be; not like she could check it out in a mirror. “It’ll fade. No problem.”

“Well, it’s been nice meeting you, but we really must go now,” Spike said, in a refined tone very different from his normal North London accent. “We have to look after our brave little girl, you know.”

“Of course,” Mrs. Jacobi agreed. “It’s been nice meeting you too, Mr. Blood, Mr. Angel. Do take care of dear Harmony. Such a nice girl. So polite and charming, and a hero too. Goodnight.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Jacobi,” Harmony said sweetly. “Goodnight.” She ducked back into her apartment, followed by Angel and Spike. Once the door was closed she addressed her fellow vampires. “Okay, what did you tell her?”

“The old bat spotted us carrying you in here earlier,” Spike explained. “Angel distracted her while I finished picking the lock, stopped her getting a good look at Illyria. We told her you’d got hurt saving Gunn from a mugger. As close to the truth as we dared go. She popped out again just now. Reckon she wanted to make sure that we were who we said we were. She seems to like you, pet.”

“She always ignores me when we meet in the corridor,” Harmony remarked,“even though I always say hello and give her a smile. I thought she didn’t like me at all. What’s with the ‘Mr. Blood’?”

“It’s the name on the papers Lindsey fixed up for me,” Spike explained. “Dunno if it was his idea of a joke or what, but they pass muster, so I’m not knocking it. Here’s your purse, Harm, and your car’s in the garage. All present and correct. You’re looking a lot better now, pet. You feeling okay?”

“Yeah, I’m good. How’s Charles doing?”

“He’ll be fine,” Angel informed her. “They’re keeping him in overnight, but he’s not in any danger. Thanks to you. When I said you saved him it was true. You saved all of us.”

“I’m glad. I was scared for you,” Harmony told him. “You said you were my employer. Does that mean I can have my job back?”

“Well, I can’t speak for Wolfram and Hart any more,” Angel grinned,“but if I can salvage anything of Angel Investigations there’s a job for you for sure. If you’ll take it.”

“Sure I’ll take it, Boss,” she accepted eagerly. “PA to a PI. That’s what I want to be. What I wanted to be two years ago, only I screwed up.”

“Not your fault, Harmony,” Angel reassured her. “We pushed you too far too fast. I remember you said you wanted to do typing and look after the cars, I shouldn’t have dropped you straight into an undercover thing. I forgive you. In fact after tonight I forgive you everything. You were amazing.”

Harmony looked at the floor, embarrassed by the praise. “Did I do good? It was thanks to Cordy. She came to me, like a sort of vision thing, or like Spikey when he first popped out of the amulet, said you were all going to die and I could save you. No way was I not going to do it, but I was scared I’d screw it up. Still, I thought worst that could happen would be I’d kill you as well as the demons, and I figured if you were going to die anyway I might as well take the risk.”

“You might have died yourself, Harm,” Spike reminded her.

“Yeah, well, rather die than let Cordy down again,” Harmony admitted. “But it worked out. It actually worked out okay. About the first time I’ve ever gotten things right.”

“You were lucky,” Angel commented. “Those gasoline tankers have all sorts of safety devices, they’re built not to blow up if they have a crash.”

“Yeah, I guessed that,” Harmony told him. “That’s why I slammed a fire axe through the top of the tank when I stole it, and I left the axe sticking in the hole. I reckoned it would make enough of a hole to get a spill going, and I set the cab alight to make sure there was a fire. And it all worked. Wow. I was cool, wasn’t I? Okay, maybe luck kinda broke my way a bit, but I had a good plan, right?”

“You were cool,” Angel confirmed. “You had a good plan, and you deserved the luck you got. You’re the best secretary anyone could ever hope to have. When I told your neighbor I was proud of you I meant every word.”

Harmony beamed with delight. “You’re the best Boss. Like I said. You’re the best, may the best man win. And you did. Maybe it’s a good thing I don’t have a soul, ‘cause, pretty much a moment of pure happiness here. I did something right.”

“Hush!” Illyria commanded from where she sat in front of the television. “They speak of the conflagration.”

“The what?” Harmony responded, and then saw the TV screen. A reporter spoke to camera, lit by flickering firelight, speaking from the mouth of a familiar alley.

“Fire crews now have the blaze under control, and the danger of it spreading to other buildings has now passed. What could have been a major terrorist incident has cost no lives, and only three injured, none seriously. Those evacuated from adjacent apartment blocks have gone for temporary shelter to the nearby Hyperion Hotel, currently closed for renovation, but it is expected that they will be allowed to return to their homes tomorrow.

“We have been lucky. Police theorize that the hijackers took a wrong turn, and that a serious attack was averted by sheer incompetence on the part of the enemies of America. No Al-Qaeda involvement has been confirmed as yet, and it’s not likely that they will claim responsibility now, but undoubtedly they would have had some important target in mind. The mayor, the Chief of Police, and officials from the Department of Homeland Security are already consulting about measures to be imposed to increase security on gasoline deliveries in future.”

“Oh, great, Richard Ashcroft gets to meddle even more in our lives,” Harmony commented.

“Harm,” Spike pointed out,“Richard Ashcroft is the former lead singer of The Verve. ‘Bittersweet Symphony’, ‘The Drugs Don’t Work’, you know? You’re thinking of the wrong Ashcroft.”

“Whatever. Is he the one who mooned Michael Jackson?”

Spike and Angel burst out laughing. Harmony looked hurt for a moment, but then recognized affection in their laughter and joined in, oblivious to the glares they were receiving from Illyria. The Ancient One was trying to listen to the TV, on which the reporter was trying to account for the presence of the dismembered and partially burnt corpse of a crocodile in the wreckage, and objected to the distraction.

“Surprised you know the difference between Richard Ashcroft and Jarvis Cocker, mate,” Spike said to Angel.

“I don’t. I’m just imagining John Ashcroft mooning Michael Jackson,” Angel chuckled. “Oh, Harmony, life would be a lot less interesting without you around.”

“Bloody right,” Spike agreed. He was going to add more but was cut short by a knock on the door. “Who the sodding Hell can that be? The old bat from along the corridor?”

“I’d better answer,” Harmony decided, and went to the door.

“May I come in?” Lilah Morgan asked. “I’m alone and unarmed.” She held her briefcase open to show that it contained nothing but papers.

Harmony looked for approval to Angel, who nodded, and she stood aside to permit the lawyer to enter. “Okay, come on in,” she invited.

Lilah entered, and glanced round the apartment. “Surprisingly nice place you have here,” she observed. “Nothing like as tacky as I expected.”

“What do you want, Lilah?” Angel asked coldly.

“To discuss your severance package,” Lilah informed him. “The Senior Partners did have a rather more final kind of severance in mind, but your little pyromaniac put a stopper on that. They’re willing to fall back to a more conventional position. A golden handshake, in return for your signing an agreement not to use confidential information about Wolfram and Hart clients acquired during your stint as CEO in any future activities with Angel Investigations or any similar organization or individual endeavor. They’ll keep to the agreement to restrain Pavayne for eternity, and they won’t seek any retribution for the assassination of the Black Thorn hierarchy. Frankly, they’d like to pretend the last year just didn’t happen, only without any mind-wipe spells.”

“No more attempts to kill us?” Angel queried.

“I can’t promise that, but no specific attempts at vengeance. Just if it comes up in the normal course of business. Interested?” She drew a contract from her case and held it out to the souled vampire.

“Maybe,” he replied, taking the documents. “I’ll get Gunn to check it out before we sign anything. I assume there is no desperate urgency?”

“Right. You’re safe for the time being. All the resources Wolfram and Hart had in the immediate area were crispy fried a couple of hours ago.” She smiled ruefully at Harmony. “The factor no-one expected. Hell hath no fury like a blonde with a box of matches. I think you set some sort of record for demon slaying.”

“How many did I get?” Harmony asked. “Looked like a whole bunch, but I didn’t exactly have time to count.”

“Six hundred and sixty two,” Lilah informed her. “Three got away, and your boss got the dragon. They were feeling biblical. Six six six, The Number of the Beast, and all that. It would take months to get another force like that together, in the absence of a functional Hellmouth, and quite frankly they don’t see it as worth the effort. They’ll call it quits if you will.”

“I hadn’t really considered the future. I pretty much expected to die tonight. Guess I’d better start thinking about it. Angel Investigations rides again? What do you think, people?” Angel looked at each of his colleagues in turn.

“It seems as good a way to honor Wesley’s memory as any other,” Illyria announced. “I will stand by you.”

“I’m in,” Spike agreed enthusiastically. “When I was doing it before, when Lindsey pretended to be Doyle and all that, I had a lot of fun. I’m all in favor of doing it for real.”

“I’ve already said yes,” Harmony chimed in. “I don’t care about the Good versus Evil thing, you know that, but I want to keep working with you. As long as you help me along the path. But hey, I’m a demon slayer! Clocked up a higher score than Buffy ever did in one go, right? Yeah! Six hundred and sixty two. Burn baby burn.” She giggled, and broke into song.

“We are the Pyromaniacs
We have pay for slay contracts
We’re undead to the max
And we wield a wicked axe
We’re Pyromanee
Totally and zany
Gas’line alley blazey
Pyromaniacs
Those are the facts!”

Illyria cocked her head and frowned at the vampire, and then a faint smile crossed her lips. Angel grinned widely, and Spike broke into laughter. Lilah shook her head and half smiled. “You’re all mad. We sane ones don’t stand a chance against you. Oh well. Come by the office tomorrow and we’ll sign the contracts, assuming your decision is yes, and frankly you’d be silly to decide otherwise. I’ll see you then.”

“So, what are we going to do for the rest of the night?” Spike asked, once Lilah had departed.

“I did not complete the task of gathering fruit with Crash Bandicoot,” Illyria announced. “I would return to your lair to continue the endeavor.”

“You can’t complete it. There’s always more sodding fruit,” Spike pointed out. “Plus, only got one bed, it’s been a long day and I plan on using it soon.”

“I have ‘Tao Feng: Fist of the Lotus’ on X-Box,” Harmony put in. “I bet you’d, like, totally enjoy it, Illyria. It has a whole lot of violence. Play it with me?”

Illyria cocked her head and appeared intrigued. “Another contest of skill, moving images on a screen? I will accept your offer for a while. The white-haired one is perhaps right that we should consider sleep, however.”

“I’m off to the Hyperion, see if I can sort things out for the people there, and then maybe find somewhere to crash. Oh, and I’d better phone Nina. Maybe we might make some sort of life.” Angel looked at Spike. “Which leaves the way clear for you and Buffy, if you can get the Immortal out of the picture.”

Spike frowned. He looked at Harmony, and then back at Angel. “Y’know, I haven’t given Buffy a thought. Maybe I’m over her. Maybe there’s something I haven’t been seeing. Gonna sleep on it, and give you an answer in the morning. Anyway, I’m off home. Night, Harm.”

Harmony gazed at the door long after Spike and Angel had departed.

“You have great affection for the white-haired one, even though he treats you with disdain,” Illyria remarked.

“Yeah,” Harmony sighed. “I love him. Think I always will. But hey, he seemed a bit impressed tonight, right? Maybe I’m still in with a chance. Oh, who am I fooling? Come on, I’ll get out the X-Box and kick your virtual ass for a while before we go to bed.”

***

Epilogue: June 24, 2004

Buffy Summers walked into the offices of Angel Investigations, housed in the former Hyperion Hotel, and a familiar face met her eyes.

“Angel Investigations, we help the…“ Harmony began, and then broke off as she recognized the visitor. “Buffy! Uhh, hi. What are you doing here?” The blonde vampire was wearing an England football shirt, and a burn mark on one cheek showed where she had briefly adorned herself with a face paint Cross of St. George before realizing her painful error.

“What are you doing here, Harmony?” Buffy echoed. “I was expecting Cordelia.”

“Cordy’s dead, Buffy, didn’t you know? I e-mailed Xander, and he wrote back. Didn’t anyone tell you?”

Buffy didn’t reply directly. “So, evil undead secretary. I thought Angel was back on the side of good?”

“Hey!” the blonde vampire protested. “He is so on the side of good. Totally. Always was. It was so totally wrong of Giles not to help him that time. Angel is a Champion. He’s brought me all on board with the doing good thing. Well, mostly I just answer the phones, but I help out with the slaying too. I bet I’ve gotten more than you this year. I heard about you and the Immortal, you haven’t been making with the slaying.”

“Where is Angel? And where is Spike?” Buffy demanded.

Harmony screwed her mouth up unhappily. “They’re getting ready to watch the soccer. I’ll call them.”

“Don’t bother, Harm, we heard,” Spike said from the stairs. The vampire descended into the lobby, and Gunn emerged from an inner office. Illyria stepped out behind Gunn. Buffy glanced casually at the exotic girl, who also wore an England shirt, and then stared in amazement as she realized that the coloration was not mere paint. “Hello, Buffy,” Spike greeted her. “Angel will be down in a minute.”

“Spike,” Buffy breathed. “Why didn’t you tell me you were alive?”

“I’m not,” Spike pointed out. “Still a vampire. First few weeks I wasn’t even that. Incorporeal, sort of a ghost. Anyway, it’s a long story. What can we do for you?”

“I’m here for you, of course,” Buffy told him, an annoyed note creeping into her voice. “I find out you’re alive after all this time and you expect me not to come running?”

“Well, actually, yeah,” Spike replied. “What about the Immortal?”

Angel appeared on the stairs at that moment, Nina at his side. Both wore Portugal shirts. “Yes, Buffy, what about the Immortal?” Angel added his voice to Spike’s.

“I staked him yesterday,” Buffy explained. “Or was it the day before yesterday? This time zone thing has gotten me muddled. Anyway, after the soccer matches, when Italy were knocked out, he got mad and said he was going to go out and kill any Swedes or Danes in Rome. I thought he was kidding, but he wasn’t, so I staked him. So then Andrew tells me Spike’s alive, or undead, and that you two had been in Rome looking for me, so I came right away. Why didn’t you say anything? Why didn’t you phone?”

“We had a few things come up. An apocalypse or two, the Circle of the Black Thorn, six hundred and sixty five demons and a dragon, that sort of thing. All in all it was a bit of a busy time. When the dust settled I realized a few things. Who’s going to tell her first, Angel?”

“I will,” Angel declared. “Nina, this is Buffy, my ex. Buffy, I’d like you to meet Nina Ash. My fiancée.”

“Oh,” Buffy said flatly. “Pleased to meet you.” She didn’t sound pleased at all. She turned back to Spike. “You said ‘tell her first’. So, what nasty surprise do you have for me?” She looked suspiciously at Illyria.

“Show her your ring, Fireball,” Spike addressed Harmony, who raised her left hand and displayed a diamond. “I proposed to Harm last week when the whistle went on England-Switzerland. And I don’t walk out on a commitment like that, unlike certain one-eyed people I could mention. You’re too late.”

“You’re engaged to Harmony?” Buffy exclaimed unbelievingly. “You’re crazy! You’d put her before me? You don’t love her. And she’s…”

“The next words out of your mouth had better not include ‘evil’ or ‘undead’ or ‘soulless’, not after you and that Immortal pillock,” Spike warned her. “I do love her. Not that I don’t love you, suppose I always will, but I love Harm too. And she makes me happy, Buffy. I enjoy being with her. She’s fun, and loving, and the last couple of months have been the best times I’ve ever had. Well, except for the last couple of minutes of the England-France match, that was sodding awful. Steven Gerrard wants bloody shooting for that back pass. But anyway, Harm makes me laugh. She’s good to me. Not ever going to let her down, Buff. The thing between you and me is over. Sorry.”

Buffy looked distraught for a moment, and then laughed. “Oh God. Here am I waiting to finish baking, expecting you two to just wait for me, and you don’t. Serves me right. I still hadn’t finished, still hadn’t chosen. Just call me half baked.”

“The game is gonna start in twenty minutes,” Gunn reminded everyone. “If there isn’t going to be any screaming and throwing things and staking, we might as well get the popcorn and hot dogs and warm beer ready. England expects, right?”

“England. For Wesley,” Illyria agreed.

“Go Portugal,” Angel chanted.

“Just ‘cause Luis Figo’s the only bloke on the planet who uses more hair gel than you do,” Spike retorted.

“You know I always support whoever is against England,” Angel reminded him.

“The potato famine was a hundred and fifty years ago, mate. Get over it.”

Buffy watched the interplay and smiled sadly. “Guess I might as well watch the soccer with you guys, if that’s okay. I’m too jet-lagged to go shopping or anything, and I don’t want to go back to the hotel this morning. Does anybody have a spare Portugal shirt? And who’s the girl with the blue hair?”

“She’s Illyria. It’s a long story, we’ll tell you after the game,” Harmony smiled. She could hardly believe that Spike had actually chosen her over Buffy, and she felt like singing with joy. Being pleasant to the Slayer was no hardship at all. “Angel got her a Portugal shirt, but she supports England ‘cause of Wesley, so we have a spare. Although, England rocks. Wayne Rooney looks just like Shrek. Only, not so green. And no talking donkey. Unless you count Emile Heskey.”

“Really not feeling full of goodwill towards England right now, Harmony,” Buffy explained, as the vampire girl took her to where the spare shirt was stored and to a room where she could change. “Not big with the pro Ireland either, but they’re not playing. Portugal it is. Oh well. Congratulations, Harmony. You have a good man, well vampire, there. Treat him okay or I stake you.”

“I love him,” Harmony replied simply.

“I know.” Buffy donned the shirt, “So, you actually fighting evil now? Another good vampire?”

“Don’t know about good, but I guess I’m okay. Hey, wait till after the game, and I’ll tell you all about how I killed six hundred and sixty two demons in one go.”

“You’re kidding, right? Or were they like midgets? Demon ants?”

“Straight up. A whole army, some real big guys too, I blew them all up like you blew up the mayor. Only with more flames. I’m a firestarter, twisted firestarter. Oops, I’ve sorta given things away, spoiled the story. Oh well. Come on, let’s get to the TV.”

Buffy followed Harmony down to the TV room. Gunn was sitting on one side of a couch. “Hey, girl, come sit by me,” he called. “I got the hot dogs.”

Buffy tilted her head to one side and sized up the African-American vampire hunter. He was kinda cute, she decided. “Sure, why not?” she said.

Harmony read her expression. “Say, if you’re not rushing off to Europe, why don’t you come with us out to a club after the game?” she suggested. “Me and Spike, Angel and Nina, and you with Gunn?”

Buffy’s brow creased. “Uh, maybe,” she said. She lowered her voice. “Harmony, are you, like, playing matchmaker?”

Harmony grinned. “I could be,” she said. “These days I’m pretty good with matches.”

The End.