Disclaimer: Please see Part 1 Chapter 1

SUGAR & SPICE

Part 2

Chapter 3

"Damn it, Spike, I don't have time to deal with your juvenile power-plays right now; Harmony's paid to be at her desk at eight!" Angel loomed in the outer lobby of his office.

Spike gave him the traditional two finger British salute – with the fingers the opposite way around to Churchill's famous Victory sign. "First, I'll do whatever I like, you big ponce. Second – what are you blathering on about now?"

Angel tamped down his instinctive response to Spike's disrespect – which was to backhand his grandson across the room – not least because ever since the Cup of Perpetual Torment, courtesy of the late and unlamented Rutherford Sirk, he wasn't entirely sure he would survive another genuine fight with Spike, never mind win it. "I mean my PA is not decorative, no matter how much Harmony might appear to be. Take Harmony outside office hours."

To his surprise, Spike's face twisted into an expression of exasperated irritation. "Uh-uh, grandpa, not guilty – who or whatever's doing Harm…in any and every sense of the word, has nothing to with me. I am about the only one of you bunch of nymphomaniacs who missed the Love Boat."

"What?" Angel scowled.

Spike rolled his eyes, "You and wolf girl, Wesley and the Blue Meanie, Gunn and Miss Electrifying Personality, Lorne and that real-psychic pretending to be fake psychic what's-her-name…Adele, Agnes… at any given time; now Harmony's obviously filled her sexercise vacancy – but not with me."

He perked up and grinned at Angel, "I'm sure she'll stagger in with a silly grin reeking of cheap cologne in an hour or so. Till the daft bint shows up you'll just have to fight those evil paper cuts yourself." Giving Angel a mocking double thumbs-up, the blond vampire strolled off looking happier than he had for days.

Resisting the urge to throw something heavy at the back of Spike's head or make some rude gestures of his own, because that would be childish, if deeply satisfying, Angel went back into his office and carefully closed the door quietly with great deliberation, and then concentrated on not grinding his teeth. At one time, and in any other circumstances, he would have had no hesitation – would have welcomed any excuse – to fire Harmony on the spot.

But…Harmony was actually very good at her job, excellent at it in fact – her 'super-heroine of typing' babble hadn't been far off the mark, unlike Cordy whose ability to undertake the 'back office' – but still vital – role of administration had always been…well, non-existent. That was nothing to do with the real reason, however, which was that as Cordelia's best friend, the blonde vampiress was an indirect but faint link to what he'd had and who he'd lost. Even beyond that was the simple fact that Harmony was essential to his plan – her inability not to be treacherous when her personal well-being was threatened was a subtle but key element to his master plan; Harmony would be essential to getting Marcus Hamilton focussing over here whilst Angel was murdering…his primary target over there – not even inside his head did he think about the real or full plan for longer than a couple of seconds at a time.

He glanced at his watch – technically it was not yet 9.00am, but when Harmony deigned to show up, he was going to give her the 'Boss From Hell' Rant – now it was critical Harmony was punctual and reliable in her work attendance.

Despite his irritation he cast a concerned glance through the necrotempered-glass outer office wall where the panoramic view showed the start of a typically sunny Los Angeles day. Like all vampires, Harmony had a 'sun-sense' which told her when the sun was about to 'rise' or 'set' at whichever part of the planet she was on, but that only worked in the vampire's native dimension and not in any it might be visiting or have been taken involuntarily to – like Pylea.

Luckily for Angel that day with Lorne, Gunn and Wes, Pylea's two yellow suns did not attack his demon physiology – it was the emissions of a white sun, like Sol, to give Earth's solar luminary it's 'proper name' – that killed vampires in this dimension. But not all dimensions were like that – some had yellow suns, and others, like Jasmine's home dimension, were so destructive in their atmosphere, topography or hostile life-forms, that a vampire would not survive for particularly long. Surely the stupid girl hadn't gone midnight shopping on the Drive and got so caught up in the latest collections she'd forgotten about sunrise?

Or, unless Spike was right and she had hooked-up with someone…or something? But that didn't quite track – oh as a vampire Harmony had no soul or morality, but depending on the viciousness and intelligence of their inner demon, vampires tended to retain some of the human host's traits. Liam, for instance, had been a sexist drunkard man-ho', which Angelus had revelled in. But Cordy had never considered Harmony to be promiscuous, and nor for all his derogatory and insulting attitude towards her had Spike ever indicated that either; unlike say, Faith Lehane, who until she met Robin Wood had been – to put it bluntly – a mega-slut who'd bang anything pretty, penis-possessing and with a pulse – the last being optional.

Harmony, typically, felt it necessary to have at least some personal acquaintance that had existed longer than a couple of days with the man – or male equivalent of whatever species – she was doing the nasty with. As far as Angel knew the only males in LA who fitted Harmony's criterion in that regard were himself, Gunn, Wes, Lorne, Spike, Lindsey McDonald and Marcus Hamilton. The first four – never in a million years; Spike – yes, but if so, he would have admitted it on the spot. Spike rarely lied, because lying required effort and work to remember the falsehood, which Spike, like most vampires, couldn't be bothered to make, certainly not about something as trivial as sex with Harmony.

Lindsey – again, never in a million years - perhaps his only virtue lay in his sexual loyalty; Lindsey had fallen completely in love with Darla, maybe because she was safely 'unattainable' but 'available by proxy', as he was far too smart to let anyone or anything, much less the Wolf, Ram and Hart, see how he'd felt about Lilah Morgan – including the woman herself; although maybe she'd secretly or subconsciously known and 'reciprocated by proxy' by her affair with Wesley, which he had to admit had come out of left field, at least to his way of thinking. Lindsey certainly didn't love Eve – she was too timid, too 'girly' – but he did care about her and would do his best to protect her and that consideration included not insulting her by sexual betrayal.

Marcus Hamilton – not yet…right now Harmony's existence didn't even register on the…entity's...radar, as she was not relevant. Hamilton was a true child of the Senior Partners in a way Eve had been distracted from being; nothing impinged but the mission. According to Wes's discreet research, Hamilton was almost certainly an avatar created specifically for this plane of existence by using human DNA as a base to grow a human shell or 'meat-suit' for him/it to 'wear'. Possibly the originator had lived centuries ago; Wes' had been muttering something about millennia ago when the Church Knights were often the Champions of Light (plural and simultaneously) and then about the NYPD and a Sergeant Slaughter and the CIA and Burbank, and a Major Casey or a Colonel Vance, some uber-marine I-don't-exist-spy, all of whom bore a suggestively uncanny resemblance to Hamilton.

Then Wes' had lost him altogether with some rambling explanation of how apparently the Senior Partners had taken a leaf out of The First's book to create Hamilton. Apparently Caleb the psycho-priest had been the result of The First using a bit of DNA from some once-famous New York thriller writer (weren't they ten a penny!) named Rickard or Castleton or Rick Castle – something like that – mixed with a 'cellular base' from some guy in an alternate universe - or at least some alien guy in a far away galaxy (and didn't that boggle the mind?) It seemed that the Senior Partners had used a bit of some ancient Champion of Light Conan the Barbarian type and topped it up with this NYPD Detective Slaughter/CIA Major (or Colonel) and mixed it with a bit of some also alien guy in a distant galaxy or dimension or whatever, and cooked up Hamilton.

The short version being that Marcus Hamilton didn't do recreational anything. He'd make a move on Harmony only if or when it served a definite purpose in advancing the Wolf, Ram & Hart's agenda, which was what Angel was counting on to happen in the near future, but not right now.

So…okay, he'd unclench and give her another five minutes…maybe ten…but then it was definitely rant-o-rama. After all, it wasn't like she really had anywhere she needed to be.

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