It’s better to burn out …
Harmony had been listening to British rock music in an attempt to understand Spike’s cultural background. Being Harmony, she hadn’t quite got it right; she had stumbled upon The Darkness’ album ‘Permission to Land’ and fallen for their pastiche of heavy metal and glam rock. Now she was singing along to their Christmas single while she went about her duties of preparing for the Wolfram and Hart Christmas Party.
“Christmas time,” she sang, “don’t let the bells end. Christmas time...”
Spike groaned. “Even your sodding Barry Manilow rubbish is better than that tripe,” he said to Angel. “Dunno how they get away with it. Shit songs, bloody screeching vocals, poncy catsuits, just fucking awful. Sodding crap. Godawful moronic garbage. Should be bloody ashamed of themselves.”
Angel lifted an eyebrow. “Don’t get so worked up about it, Spike. Here.” He picked up Spike’s lighter from the desk and handed it to the other vampire. “Why don’t you just set Harmony on fire?”
Spike raised an eyebrow in reply. “Seems a bit extreme, mate. She serve your otter blood at the wrong temperature?”
“Something like that,” Angel confirmed. “And, anyway, isn’t it better to light a Kendall than to curse The Darkness?”
Epilogue: … than it is to rust
They regretted it later. Morale in the office plummeted. Harmony’s replacement as Angel’s PA, Tamika, was efficient but humorless and unequivocally evil. Fred was upset, Gunn muttered darkly about employee rights, and Wesley was bitterly scathing in his condemnation of the two souled vampires’ hasty and ill-considered action.
To make amends Angel arranged a big funeral for Harmony. Her ashes were scattered at a lavish ceremony in Beverley Hills, and Lorne persuaded Elton John to perform a special song at the service.
“And it seems to me that she lived her life,” Elton wailed, “like a Kendall in the wind …”