Something Beautiful
Chapter One: The Drinks Are On Me

Spike offered Wesley a grim smile as Wes entered the bar. He even gave Wesley what Wes assumed was an attempt at a reassuring pat on the shoulder. Instead, it felt awkward, with neither of them quite knowing how to react to it. For a moment, Wes couldn't think why Spike was being so friendly. He remembered suddenly, with a lurching in his stomach that made him think he would throw up.

"I, uh, wouldn't go to the bar if I were you, mate," Spike said, making an attempt at idle conversation. He glanced back and thumbed over his shoulder. "Harm's wallowing."

Wes looked over Spike's shoulder and took a step toward the bar. Spike shrugged, lifted his hand to pat Wes's shoulder again, but decided better of it and left with yet another grim smile.

Wes looked toward the bar again, this time seeing Harmony, slumped over the bar top, chin in hand, sucking a bright pink cocktail through a straw and twirling a miniature umbrella in the other hand.

He crossed the room to the bar, ignoring the whispers that died as he passed.

"… On the roof!"

"And not just one shot… White Hat - ha!"

"…. Had it all planned, I heard…"

He swallowed, pretended not to hear and sat beside Harmony, hoping her incessant chatter would drown out the whispers. In wasn't in the mood for a conversation, but he was in the mood for a drink and he knew Harmony well enough to know that she wouldn't expect an answer to her chitchat. At least, that's what he hoped

He waved to the bartender and ordered an English beer - credit where it was due, Wolfram and Hart always got the good stuff in - and glanced at Harmony. She hadn't seemed to notice him, instead she was blowing bubbles in her cocktail morosely and Wes almost sighed in exasperation before making an attempt.

"How are you?" he asked after a moment of waiting for her to speak.

"Huh?" she finally looked up at him, slid the straw from her lips and frowned at him.

"After the events of today," he elaborated, trying to remain friendly even while impatience edged into him and his mind - sounding remarkably like his father - hissed that this had never been a good idea. When she still didn't answer, he prodded further. "So, after today, how are you?"

"All right," she shrugged, after a small pause. She went to turn back to her cocktail before suddenly shaking her head and looking at him. "No. No, actually, I'm not all right. I've had a really tough day, y'know? Do you know how stressful it is, thinking you've killed someone?" he winced, deciding this really hadn't been a good idea. Harmony didn't notice and carried on without a pause. "And Spike walked out on me just now. You'd think he owed me five minutes to listen to me after everything we've - oh. Sorry."

She grimaced and watched him warily to gauge his reaction.

"For what?" Wes asked, stunned into reply by her sudden stop. "Am I supposed to be offended by you wanting to talk to Spike instead of me?"

"No, I mean 'cause you shot your dad that time."

Wes coughed; spluttered and Harmony thumped his back, grimacing once again as she replayed the bluntness of her words.

"I'm sorry," she moaned. "I'm trying to change, to be more tactful. I really am. But sometimes, I just…"

She tailed off and sat back as he regained his composure, not noticing the giggles and glances from others in the bar. Wes also didn't notice them; he was too busy staring into his beer. Well, there it was, laid out in all its brutal glory. Yet, somehow, he noted with some surprise, it didn't feel quite so horrible as when the others tried to dodge around the subject.

"Quite all right," he replied, still staring into the pint glass instead of looking at her.

"That kinda makes my troubles seem dumb," she said brightly, before closing her eyes and taking a deep breath before continuing. "Um, has Angel spoken to you about… it?"

"Not really," Wes shrugged, trying to remember whether Angel had said much. "Well, except to say that he killed his parents," Harmony snorted. To his surprise, Wes found himself chuckling. "No. I didn't think it was the most tactful thing to say either."

"I try, y'know, to be more sensitive and open to what others are feeling," Harmony sighed. "But sometimes, I get so caught up in my life that I forget other people have lives too. Not great ones, but still… So. What do you want me to say about the whole killing your robot dad thing?"

Wes opened his mouth to ask her to drop the subject in favour of something lighter, but instead he shrugged and swirled in his beer in his glass.

"How about not telling me you killed your parents too?" he offered.

"I didn't kill them," she replied.

"Thank you," he said, looking at her with a smile.

"No, really," Harmony protested. "I didn't."

"Oh," Wes frowned, then - for some reason he wasn't quite able to grasp at that moment - he asked. "Why not?"

"They weren't in the country," she replied simply. "They were in Japan in some talks with some major company or something. They came back for the funeral, but by the time I'd risen, they'd gone again. Anyway, what would have been the point?"

"I don't know," Wes replied. "I just thought that was what vampires did."

"You really aren't as smart as they give you credit for, huh?" Harmony commented bluntly, eyeing him over the salt encrusted rim of her glass.

"I've often thought so," he replied, wondering why he smiled and made it a joke when other times, the thought made him queasy.

"I had nothing against my parents," Harmony went on suddenly, putting her glass down. "Why should I? They were the coolest. They were away a lot, so I got the house to myself for slumber parties with the girls and actual parties with boys. And they were always saying I could have anything I wanted. Clothes, shoes, purses," she smiled slightly, almost wistfully as her eyes twinkled. "And you know what? They buried me in Gucci."

"Gucci?" Wes raised his eyebrows in surprise. "I didn't know they did coffins."

Harmony rolled her eyes at his obvious stupidity.

"No, doofus, that's because they don't. I'm talking the hottest little black dress you ever saw," her voice dropped to a murmur. "I really should get around to dry cleaning it. Oh!" Wes watched in blinking fascination as Harmony dug through her purse and retrieved a small baby blue Dictaphone. "They didn't have pink," she informed him when she noticed his glance. She clicked record and enunciated slowly - which Harmony interrupted as loudly - into the small microphone. "Don't… for-get… toooo ta-ake the Guuu-ci dreeeess to the… drrrrry cleeeean-ers."

She clicked stop and grinned at Wesley. He answered with a chuckle.

"Let me guess - grave dirt is so passé?"

"Totally!" she answered. "Wow, I feel like we're really bonding, Wesley!"

Suddenly, as she finished her sentence, her smile faded and she turned on her stool away from him. She quickly ordered another drink and nibbled on a few peanuts from the bowl on the bar as she waited. Wes blinked, a little surprised and, for the first time in a while, was completely focused on something other than what happened a few weeks ago on the roof. Just what had he done wrong?

"What?" he asked and it came out more blunt and childish than he had intended.

"You," she snapped. "You… You're being all… nice!"

"I'm sorry?" he offered hesitantly, part apology and part question.

"And tomorrow," she raged on, ignoring him. "You'll go back to treating me like crap again. 'Harmony, where's my blood?' 'Harmony, I gave that file to you an hour ago!' 'Harmony, what's that camel doing here?' 'Harmony, this is all. Your. Fault.'"

Wes recoiled slightly and hurried through every meeting he had ever been in with Harmony.

"Harmony, I hardly think that's the point."

"I have to disagree with you, Harmony. That's ever so slightly ridiculous."

"Harmony, I'm glad you're here. We'll be needing lunch."

He cringed as another, much older and completely un-Harmony-related, memory rose in his mind.

"Wes? Can I leave the research with you? After you've cleaned up, of course. Cordy's going home and I'm going to bed, but you can wake me if you find anything."

"I know how you feel," he said quietly.

"Oh, yeah?" she sneered, taking a large gulp of her cocktail which made her sway back slightly. "Since when, Mr Big Shot? You're always ordering people around. Telling them what to do. You've always done it. Back in High School - oh, yes, don't you think I don't remember you from Sunnydale. I did use the library sometimes, y'know. And when I first came to LA, maybe if you'd been a little more welcoming, I'd have stayed on the right side!"

"I understand," he nodded. "And yes, I've been cruel to you and I suppose I can be a little pompous and bossy. But believe me when I say I know what it's like to be under-appreciated. To feel like you'll never fit in and that no matter how hard you try, you'll never be really, genuinely liked."

Harmony blinked, her lips still wrapped around the rim of her glass in surprise. She slurped the last of her drink, gulped hard and set it down.

"Ok," she said, attempting to appear uninterested. "So maybe you do," she looked at him. There was a long silence until she sighed. "You gonna tell me about it then or what?"

"All right," he nodded, drank the last of his beer, then raised his hand to the bartender. He dug his wallet out of the back pocket of his jeans and opening it. He saw her questioning look and pulled out a couple of bills. "But first, the drinks are on me."