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beer_good_foamyTitle: Elves, Gremlins and Eskimoes
Author: Beer Good (![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
beer_good_foamy)
Rating: PG13
Timeline: Angel season 5, non-Simpsons-movie-compliant
Word Count: ~3000 (this chapter)
Disclaimer: Angel characters are owned by Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy. Simpsons characters are owned by Matt Groening and FOX TV.
Warning: Character re-death.
Summary: Simpsons crossover: W&H decide to get rid of Angel and bring in some outside contractors to help get the company back in the red again. Now the crew of Angel Investigations will have to turn to someone who knows how to fight this new evil... Someone in the small town of Springfield.
Part 5, in which our heroes clean up Springfield and EXTERMINATE! EXTERMINATE!
Previously: Part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4.
Part 5: Scouring
Angel acted quickly, pulling Bart inside and slamming the door just as the two monsters crashed into it and were knocked back onto the lawn, little birds flying around their heads. It wouldn't hold them off for long, though. "Gunn! Little help here!"
Gunn shook his head, backing away from the hall. "Uh-uh. No way, man. That's a 10-foot rat! With the wriggling tail, and the teeth, and..."
"Ooooo." Homer chuckled. "The big fraidycat's scared of rats?"
"You're goddamn right I'm scared of rats! You try growing up where I did and then tell me -"
Bart interrupted, an expression of awe on his face. "How did you do that?"
"What?"
"Say that word."
Gunn frowned. "'Rats'?"
"No, the one before 'right'."
"'Goddamn'?"
"Yeah. How did you do that?"
"Uh..."
The linguistic discussion was cut short by a violent crash against the door. Itchy and Scratchy had gotten back up and were now doing their best to hack their way inside, and only Angel's strength was keeping the door closed. "OK, someone figure out a way to stop these demons! Wesley, I'm looking in your general direction!"
"They're not demons," Lisa piped up. "They're cartoon characters."
Wesley shook his head. "That's preposterous. Cartoon characters don't come to life."
"Yeah, well, I'm trying to hold up a door against some pretty convincing evidence that they do, Wes!" Angel grunted as one of the axes bit halfway through the wooden door and nipped at his shoulder.
Lisa continued. "Ever since Mr Burns left town and we lost power, things like this have been happening. We just don't know what's causing it."
"OK, let's figure that out after we've stopped them." A lightbulb went on over Fred's head. "Mrs Simpson? I noticed a bag of potato chips in the kitchen, you wouldn't have any dip around?"
Marge was busy burping Maggie, who didn't seem to mind staying up this late. "Well, of course I do, but..."
"Lisa? Wanna help me out?" Fred and Lisa ran into the kitchen, returning seconds later with a big bowl of onion dip. "Angel, step aside."
"You sure?" Another axe blade hacked through the door, missing Angel's scalp by barely an inch. "Hey! Watch the hair!"
Fred nodded. "I'm sure. Let'em in."
Angel quickly jumped aside and the door flew open as the two monsters pushed their way inside – only to have the entire bowl of dip thrown in their faces by Lisa and Fred.
Itchy and Scratchy stopped, dumbstruck. Scratchy tentatively licked his lips. Then they both shook off their distraction and charged again – for about a second. That's how long it took for Wesley to get out his double-barrel shotgun and blow both of their heads off.
Fred drew a sigh of relief. "OK. I guess your plan was better than mine."
Angel brushed some bits-o-Itchy off his coat. "I don't mean to question your judgement, Fred, but... dip?"
"Well, it worked on cartoon characters in Who Framed Roger Rabbit... I figured it was worth a try. We're not exactly in well-explored empirical territory here."
Marge grumbled disapprovingly. "Homer, stop that. That dip's been sitting in room temperature for days."
"But it's so tasty!" He was kneeling over the two cartoon corpses, scooping up dip and stuffing his face with it. "Mmm... dip with brains."
Gunn was starting to regain his composure. "So... can we go back to LA and fight ordinary demons now?"
"Just a minute." Wesley turned to Lisa. "You're saying things like this have been happening since Mr Burns left?"
"Yeah. Ghosts, monsters, inanimate objects coming to life, fictional characters becoming real... Oh, and our neighbor Mrs Flanders came back."
"What's so unusual about that?"
"She's been dead for years."
"You mean she's a zombie?"
"Hey, don't knock zombies!" Homer did a triumphant little dance. "Now that she's back, guess who's no longer the smelliest person on the block?"
Wesley and Angel looked at each other and nodded. No hero could leave this poor town to fend for itself against monsters like this. They would have to come up with a plan to save Springfield.
Angel huffed. "Do I really have to?"
"We need inside information on what Mr Burns is up to right now," Wesley explained patiently. "With Harmony back in the steno pool, Spike is the only one in a position to keep track of him. Just call him and ask what's going on."
"But Spike doesn't even have a phone!"
"No, but that one office he likes to haunt has both a couch and a speaker phone. Try that one."
"It's 1AM, he's a ghost, and -"
"...and a creature of the night and of habit. Call him."
Angel sighed and dialled. One ring... two... thr- "Hello? Spike?"
(...)
"Who's this? Waylon who?"
(...)
"Oh, right... uh... sorry for waking you. Is Spike there?"
(...)
"Good. Put him on."
(...)
"Spike. Would you mind telling me why Burns' assistant is answering your phone in the middle of the night?"
(...)
"What? Jealous? Of course not, that's..."
(...)
"Thank you, Spike, I really didn't want to know that. Just listen, OK? We need to know what Mr Burns has been up to, and it's a lot more important than our squabbles, so how about you show me you've really got a soul and make yourself useful for -"
(...)
"And don't call me 'Grandpa'!"
As Angel continued ranting on the phone, Homer nudged Fred with a surprised look on his face. "He's someone's grandpa?"
"Well... kinda."
"Pff," Homer snorted. "So much for that nonsense about him being a vampire. Does he bore everyone with long, pointless stories about how things were back in his day, too?"
"Actually, a lot of the time -" Fred started before Angel shot her a withering look; she quickly remembered about vampire hearing and changed her mind. "Oh, no, not at all. Angel's completely living in the now, yep."
The research party in the Simpsons' kitchen continued all night. As the sun rose, only Fred, Wesley and Lisa were still working, trying to find a reason for the paranormal activity in Springfield. Angel had taken care to close all the curtains, and now sat sipping the blood Marge had found for him. "So, any progress yet?"
Wesley scratched his stubbly cheek. "Well, yes and no. Spike's information that Mr Smithers and his associate were brought to Los Angeles magically rather than through conventional means of transport should be significant, but I can't really see how it would cause something like this. But I'm sure we'll find -"
"Goooooood morning everybody! What's for breakfast?" Bart entered the kitchen and immediately frowned. "Hey, why is it so dark in here?" And with that, before anyone could react, he pulled open the curtains, bathing the entire kitchen in sunlight.
Which didn't hurt Angel at all.
He sat there, basking. "OK, not that I'm complaining, but...?"
"Of course!" Wesley's face lit up. "If the sun isn't harmful to vampires, then we must be in some sort of alternate universe. Just like when we went to that hell dimension in-"
"Hey!" Bart and Lisa interrupted simultaneously. "Who are you calling a hell dimension?"
"Well, I don't think Springfield is a hell dimension, obviously. But it appears to be... a different 'verse, if you will."
"But we didn't go through any portals or anything to get here, we just... drove."
"Exactly, Fred. Which means that when Wolfram & Hart collected Mr Burns and Mr Smithers, they must have opened some sort of crack in reality, causing the two dimensions to bleed together and subverting the natural order of things. Normally, this would be a one-shot deal and the crack would close by itself, but somehow this one appears to remain open. If we don't close it, the results could eventually be disastrous."
"Great!" Angel bounced to his feet with a big sunny grin on his face. "So, what are we waiting for? It's a beautiful day outside, let's go find that crack!"
Springfield in the daytime was significantly less deserted than it had been at night. Some kids were playing, the local reverend was walking his dog (making sure to have it do its business on the Flanders' lawn) and koala bears were very slowly starting to dominate the local wildlife. It was, as Angel pointed out three times within 20 minutes, a fantastic day for fighting monsters.
First, they took care of Maude Flanders the Zombie. After a quick lesson on the theme of "she's not the person she once was, just a soulless demon wearing her face", Homer was sent forth to knock on the door.
"Hi-diddly-ho there, neighborino!" There was something hesitant and tired in Ned's jolly greeting. "What brings you to the Flanders pad?"
"Uh... hi, Ned."Homer tried to sneak a peek inside the house. "I was wondering if I could borrow your... um..."
"Well, Homer... now's not really the best time -"
"By the way, how's Maude?"
"Oh, she's... much better." Ned scratched the back of his head with an uncertain smile. "Yes-siree-bob, she's -"
He was interrupted by a loud cry from inside. "BRAAAAAINS! BRAAAINS!"
"Still a zombie, huh?"
"Yeah... uh... well... what was it you wanted, Homer?"
"I need to borrow your... um..." Think, Homer, think. There has to be something you know that Flanders has. "...your bible."
"Well, I am sort of using it, but I suppose I could let you have one of my spares... I'll just pop upstairs and get it. Wait here."
As soon as Flanders had gone upstairs, Homer ran inside the house. He found the half-rotted Zombie Maude in the living room, straining against the ropes that held her tied to a chair. She briefly looked in Homer's direction, then made a disappointed noise and kept screaming for brains.
"It's go-time, you monster!" Homer pulled out Scratchy's axe and proceeded to chop the zombie up, but no matter how many limbs he hacked off it kept screaming and trying to get away. "Take that! And that! And that! Why... won't... you... DIE?"
"Homer!" Wesley called from outside. "You have to destroy the brain!"
"Oh. Gotcha." Homer planted the axe in Maude's head, which did the trick. "HA! All bow to Homer the Zombie Sla... Ewww."
Just as Maude dissolved into a putrid mess of blood, rotting flesh and various fluids that are better left unspecified, Ned and his two boys came back downstairs and stood staring in disbelief.
"Daddy?" Rod's voice shook. "Is Mommy back in heaven now?"
"Homer... you... kill-diddly-iddly..."
"Gotta go!" Homer quickly dropped the axe and ran back outside to the others.
Having collected Lorne and some volunteers, the gang started searching for the crack. Burns' mansion was eerily quiet as they made their way inside the main hall... at least until Grandpa Simpson spoke up in a loud, trembling cry.
"This place is evil! EEEEVIL, I tells ya!"
"Grandpa, you said that about every house we passed on the way here," Marge grumbled.
Wesley started handing out orders. "Right. Principal Skinner, you, Lorne and Apu search the West wing. Homer and Gunn, try the East."
All five nodded and headed off, Homer chatting amicably with the surly Gunn. "So, when did you start losing your hair? I've tried everything, but..."
Wesley turned to the vampire. "Angel -"
"I thought I'd look through the garden. I mean, with the sunshine and everything, I know that's where I'd hide if I were a pandimensional crack."
"I was just about to suggest that." Wesley breathed a sigh of relief; enough sun for Angel might cancel out several weeks' worth of brooding when they got back. "And Fred, professor Frink, Bart and I will take the upstairs."
"Hey! I wanna come with!" Lisa looked devastated at being left behind.
"Sorry, honey, I'm afraid you'll have to stay down here with me and Maggie," Marge said.
"But -"
"Your mom's right, Lisa." Fred kneeled down by the 8-year-old. "This is dangerous business, and nobody wants you to get hurt. See you in a few, OK?"
The oldest human member of the posse spoke up. "And what about me? I was fightin' Germans before any of you were even a twinkle in the milkman's eye! If there's a monster around here, I'll be the one to find it, dagnabbit!"
"Grandpa -"
"Oh, I get it! 'Grandpa's old and useless, he can't be counted on to fight the forces of darkness anymore', is it? Well, I'm still full of piss and vinegar, and I'm telling you I'm-" He fell asleep where he stood, snoring loudly.
Wesley's party made its way upstairs, guided by Bart who knew the place inside out. Just outside Burns' private study, they paused and listened carefully; they could hear a faint buzzing noise, as well as two voices arguing. Wesley cocked his shotgun. "On my signal. One... two... three!" He kicked the door down.
The crack in reality stretched from one end of the room to the other, glowing bright blue and buzzing angrily as it tried in vain to close. Also in the room was a large spaceship of the flying-saucer variety – only not so much flying as stuck in the crack like a cork in a bottle. Through its transparent dome, the gang could see two green space aliens with tentacles and huge fangs, drooling profusely as they argued about just who had gotten them into this mess. When Fred cleared her throat, the aliens turned towards them in surprise, and one of them spoke up in a deep, supposedly terrifying voice.
"Oh. Um... Greetings, earthlings. I am Kang, and this is my sister Kodos. We are your new mas..." Kodos prodded him and pointed to Wesley's shotgun. "...I mean, we come in peace."
Kodos nodded. "Yes. Peace. Absolutely. I don't suppose you could give us a little help getting out of this predicament, so we can kill... I mean, reward and serve you?"
Wesley stepped forward. "What are you doing here?"
"We were on our way to London when we were sucked in by this thing and got stuck. Someone," Kang shot Kodos a mean glare, "had the oh-so-bright idea of infiltrating humanity by posing as the British government."
"The plan would have worked if you had known how to navigate!"
"No, it wouldn't! Nine and Rose would have stopped us, and then the Daleks would..."
"This is bad." Wesley turned to the others. "It sounds like the crack is spreading to even more 'verses. We need to close it immediately. Ideas, anyone?"
Professor Frink puffed himself up. "Well, it should be obvious to anyone with an advanced degree in theoretical physics that what we're dealing with here is a practical application of Wiltzinger's theorem of the..."
"Really?" Fred frowned. "Wiltzinger specifically ruled out portals between different worlds, right? This looks more like a DuCroutier-style wormhole to me, and..."
"Oh sweet glayven muyven, DuCroutier was a hack!"
Bart yawned; this was beginning to sound an awful lot like school. Hmmm, that spaceship looked like it needed a dent or two... He got out his slingshot, lined up a small stone, pulled the rubber band back and let go. The pebble hit the spaceship with a distinct "ding", offsetting the delicate balance that kept it trapped, and with a loud "schwooop!" the spaceship was sucked into the crack, which closed and disappeared. Everyone looked at Bart, who immediately hid the slingshot behind his back. "I didn't do it. Nobody saw me. You can't prove anything."
"Actually," Wesley said, "that was a pretty good solution."
Fred scratched her arm. "But what if they belonged to this 'verse and are trapped in the wrong one now?"
"Well, that's unfortunate, but I suppose they're somebody else's problem now, so..." Suddenly, a thought struck Wesley. "Wait! How are we going to get back home now that the crack is closed?"
A few hours later, Professor Frink had finished constructing the portable crack generator that would make it possible for them to drive back to Los Angeles. As he only had enough material for one, they had convinced principal Skinner to let Otto drive everyone there in the school bus.
As the Angel gang and the Simpsons family got ready to board the bus, the citizens of Springfield gathered to see them off, but there was a general unease in the crowd. Finally, Cletus the slack-jawed yokel said what was on everyone's mind. "Hey, wait a minute. What if there's more of them thar monsters runnin' 'round?"
"My God!" Mrs Lovejoy grew pale with fright. "Somebody PLEASE think of the CHILDREN!"
"Well..." Angel frowned. "Don't you have any champions in this town?"
"Champions?"
"Yeah, you know. Heroes."
Bart's face lit up. "You mean like Radioactive Man? With capes and tights and stuff?"
"I guess... but non-fictional."
Homer patted him on the back, smiling reassuringly. "Don't worry, I know just the people. Just give me a minute." Five minutes later he was back with two cape-and-tights-wearing persons in tow. "I give you: Springfield's champions!"
"Uh..." Angel gave him a doubtful look, then shrugged. "Right. So, we don't expect there to be any more trouble now that the crack has been closed, but just in case, your job will be to fight it – if possible – but above all to make sure that everyone is safe. Do you think you can handle that?"
"Yes sir! Duffman will protect this city!" Duffman puffed his chest out proudly. "Any other fiends who try to take over Springfield will have to face the cool, relaxing, foamy wrath of Duffman!"
His stripy co-champion, the Bumblebee Man, looked slightly less confident as he anxiously shook his head. "Ay, dios mio. Yo no soy un vigilante."
And as the dusk settled, the school bus pulled out onto the streets of Springfield and Otto put the pedal to the metal. And so they drove on towards LA through the cooling darkness, almost running down an overweight man who was crossing the street while reading the latest issue of The Astonishing X-Men and avoided being hit by the bus only by diving for cover at the last second. To the sound of Homer yelling "Eat my dust, Springfield!" and a hearty "HAAA-ha!" from a schoolboy who happened to see the incident, the fat man got to his feet with as much wounded dignity as he could muster, carefully dusted himself off and snorted with contempt.
"Worst. Crossover. Ever."
TBC
On to Part 6
Author: Beer Good (
beer_good_foamy)Rating: PG13
Timeline: Angel season 5, non-Simpsons-movie-compliant
Word Count: ~3000 (this chapter)
Disclaimer: Angel characters are owned by Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy. Simpsons characters are owned by Matt Groening and FOX TV.
Warning: Character re-death.
Summary: Simpsons crossover: W&H decide to get rid of Angel and bring in some outside contractors to help get the company back in the red again. Now the crew of Angel Investigations will have to turn to someone who knows how to fight this new evil... Someone in the small town of Springfield.
Part 5, in which our heroes clean up Springfield and EXTERMINATE! EXTERMINATE!
Previously: Part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4.
Part 5: Scouring
Angel acted quickly, pulling Bart inside and slamming the door just as the two monsters crashed into it and were knocked back onto the lawn, little birds flying around their heads. It wouldn't hold them off for long, though. "Gunn! Little help here!"
Gunn shook his head, backing away from the hall. "Uh-uh. No way, man. That's a 10-foot rat! With the wriggling tail, and the teeth, and..."
"Ooooo." Homer chuckled. "The big fraidycat's scared of rats?"
"You're goddamn right I'm scared of rats! You try growing up where I did and then tell me -"
Bart interrupted, an expression of awe on his face. "How did you do that?"
"What?"
"Say that word."
Gunn frowned. "'Rats'?"
"No, the one before 'right'."
"'Goddamn'?"
"Yeah. How did you do that?"
"Uh..."
The linguistic discussion was cut short by a violent crash against the door. Itchy and Scratchy had gotten back up and were now doing their best to hack their way inside, and only Angel's strength was keeping the door closed. "OK, someone figure out a way to stop these demons! Wesley, I'm looking in your general direction!"
"They're not demons," Lisa piped up. "They're cartoon characters."
Wesley shook his head. "That's preposterous. Cartoon characters don't come to life."
"Yeah, well, I'm trying to hold up a door against some pretty convincing evidence that they do, Wes!" Angel grunted as one of the axes bit halfway through the wooden door and nipped at his shoulder.
Lisa continued. "Ever since Mr Burns left town and we lost power, things like this have been happening. We just don't know what's causing it."
"OK, let's figure that out after we've stopped them." A lightbulb went on over Fred's head. "Mrs Simpson? I noticed a bag of potato chips in the kitchen, you wouldn't have any dip around?"
Marge was busy burping Maggie, who didn't seem to mind staying up this late. "Well, of course I do, but..."
"Lisa? Wanna help me out?" Fred and Lisa ran into the kitchen, returning seconds later with a big bowl of onion dip. "Angel, step aside."
"You sure?" Another axe blade hacked through the door, missing Angel's scalp by barely an inch. "Hey! Watch the hair!"
Fred nodded. "I'm sure. Let'em in."
Angel quickly jumped aside and the door flew open as the two monsters pushed their way inside – only to have the entire bowl of dip thrown in their faces by Lisa and Fred.
Itchy and Scratchy stopped, dumbstruck. Scratchy tentatively licked his lips. Then they both shook off their distraction and charged again – for about a second. That's how long it took for Wesley to get out his double-barrel shotgun and blow both of their heads off.
Fred drew a sigh of relief. "OK. I guess your plan was better than mine."
Angel brushed some bits-o-Itchy off his coat. "I don't mean to question your judgement, Fred, but... dip?"
"Well, it worked on cartoon characters in Who Framed Roger Rabbit... I figured it was worth a try. We're not exactly in well-explored empirical territory here."
Marge grumbled disapprovingly. "Homer, stop that. That dip's been sitting in room temperature for days."
"But it's so tasty!" He was kneeling over the two cartoon corpses, scooping up dip and stuffing his face with it. "Mmm... dip with brains."
Gunn was starting to regain his composure. "So... can we go back to LA and fight ordinary demons now?"
"Just a minute." Wesley turned to Lisa. "You're saying things like this have been happening since Mr Burns left?"
"Yeah. Ghosts, monsters, inanimate objects coming to life, fictional characters becoming real... Oh, and our neighbor Mrs Flanders came back."
"What's so unusual about that?"
"She's been dead for years."
"You mean she's a zombie?"
"Hey, don't knock zombies!" Homer did a triumphant little dance. "Now that she's back, guess who's no longer the smelliest person on the block?"
Wesley and Angel looked at each other and nodded. No hero could leave this poor town to fend for itself against monsters like this. They would have to come up with a plan to save Springfield.
Angel huffed. "Do I really have to?"
"We need inside information on what Mr Burns is up to right now," Wesley explained patiently. "With Harmony back in the steno pool, Spike is the only one in a position to keep track of him. Just call him and ask what's going on."
"But Spike doesn't even have a phone!"
"No, but that one office he likes to haunt has both a couch and a speaker phone. Try that one."
"It's 1AM, he's a ghost, and -"
"...and a creature of the night and of habit. Call him."
Angel sighed and dialled. One ring... two... thr- "Hello? Spike?"
(...)
"Who's this? Waylon who?"
(...)
"Oh, right... uh... sorry for waking you. Is Spike there?"
(...)
"Good. Put him on."
(...)
"Spike. Would you mind telling me why Burns' assistant is answering your phone in the middle of the night?"
(...)
"What? Jealous? Of course not, that's..."
(...)
"Thank you, Spike, I really didn't want to know that. Just listen, OK? We need to know what Mr Burns has been up to, and it's a lot more important than our squabbles, so how about you show me you've really got a soul and make yourself useful for -"
(...)
"And don't call me 'Grandpa'!"
As Angel continued ranting on the phone, Homer nudged Fred with a surprised look on his face. "He's someone's grandpa?"
"Well... kinda."
"Pff," Homer snorted. "So much for that nonsense about him being a vampire. Does he bore everyone with long, pointless stories about how things were back in his day, too?"
"Actually, a lot of the time -" Fred started before Angel shot her a withering look; she quickly remembered about vampire hearing and changed her mind. "Oh, no, not at all. Angel's completely living in the now, yep."
The research party in the Simpsons' kitchen continued all night. As the sun rose, only Fred, Wesley and Lisa were still working, trying to find a reason for the paranormal activity in Springfield. Angel had taken care to close all the curtains, and now sat sipping the blood Marge had found for him. "So, any progress yet?"
Wesley scratched his stubbly cheek. "Well, yes and no. Spike's information that Mr Smithers and his associate were brought to Los Angeles magically rather than through conventional means of transport should be significant, but I can't really see how it would cause something like this. But I'm sure we'll find -"
"Goooooood morning everybody! What's for breakfast?" Bart entered the kitchen and immediately frowned. "Hey, why is it so dark in here?" And with that, before anyone could react, he pulled open the curtains, bathing the entire kitchen in sunlight.
Which didn't hurt Angel at all.
He sat there, basking. "OK, not that I'm complaining, but...?"
"Of course!" Wesley's face lit up. "If the sun isn't harmful to vampires, then we must be in some sort of alternate universe. Just like when we went to that hell dimension in-"
"Hey!" Bart and Lisa interrupted simultaneously. "Who are you calling a hell dimension?"
"Well, I don't think Springfield is a hell dimension, obviously. But it appears to be... a different 'verse, if you will."
"But we didn't go through any portals or anything to get here, we just... drove."
"Exactly, Fred. Which means that when Wolfram & Hart collected Mr Burns and Mr Smithers, they must have opened some sort of crack in reality, causing the two dimensions to bleed together and subverting the natural order of things. Normally, this would be a one-shot deal and the crack would close by itself, but somehow this one appears to remain open. If we don't close it, the results could eventually be disastrous."
"Great!" Angel bounced to his feet with a big sunny grin on his face. "So, what are we waiting for? It's a beautiful day outside, let's go find that crack!"
Springfield in the daytime was significantly less deserted than it had been at night. Some kids were playing, the local reverend was walking his dog (making sure to have it do its business on the Flanders' lawn) and koala bears were very slowly starting to dominate the local wildlife. It was, as Angel pointed out three times within 20 minutes, a fantastic day for fighting monsters.
First, they took care of Maude Flanders the Zombie. After a quick lesson on the theme of "she's not the person she once was, just a soulless demon wearing her face", Homer was sent forth to knock on the door.
"Hi-diddly-ho there, neighborino!" There was something hesitant and tired in Ned's jolly greeting. "What brings you to the Flanders pad?"
"Uh... hi, Ned."Homer tried to sneak a peek inside the house. "I was wondering if I could borrow your... um..."
"Well, Homer... now's not really the best time -"
"By the way, how's Maude?"
"Oh, she's... much better." Ned scratched the back of his head with an uncertain smile. "Yes-siree-bob, she's -"
He was interrupted by a loud cry from inside. "BRAAAAAINS! BRAAAINS!"
"Still a zombie, huh?"
"Yeah... uh... well... what was it you wanted, Homer?"
"I need to borrow your... um..." Think, Homer, think. There has to be something you know that Flanders has. "...your bible."
"Well, I am sort of using it, but I suppose I could let you have one of my spares... I'll just pop upstairs and get it. Wait here."
As soon as Flanders had gone upstairs, Homer ran inside the house. He found the half-rotted Zombie Maude in the living room, straining against the ropes that held her tied to a chair. She briefly looked in Homer's direction, then made a disappointed noise and kept screaming for brains.
"It's go-time, you monster!" Homer pulled out Scratchy's axe and proceeded to chop the zombie up, but no matter how many limbs he hacked off it kept screaming and trying to get away. "Take that! And that! And that! Why... won't... you... DIE?"
"Homer!" Wesley called from outside. "You have to destroy the brain!"
"Oh. Gotcha." Homer planted the axe in Maude's head, which did the trick. "HA! All bow to Homer the Zombie Sla... Ewww."
Just as Maude dissolved into a putrid mess of blood, rotting flesh and various fluids that are better left unspecified, Ned and his two boys came back downstairs and stood staring in disbelief.
"Daddy?" Rod's voice shook. "Is Mommy back in heaven now?"
"Homer... you... kill-diddly-iddly..."
"Gotta go!" Homer quickly dropped the axe and ran back outside to the others.
Having collected Lorne and some volunteers, the gang started searching for the crack. Burns' mansion was eerily quiet as they made their way inside the main hall... at least until Grandpa Simpson spoke up in a loud, trembling cry.
"This place is evil! EEEEVIL, I tells ya!"
"Grandpa, you said that about every house we passed on the way here," Marge grumbled.
Wesley started handing out orders. "Right. Principal Skinner, you, Lorne and Apu search the West wing. Homer and Gunn, try the East."
All five nodded and headed off, Homer chatting amicably with the surly Gunn. "So, when did you start losing your hair? I've tried everything, but..."
Wesley turned to the vampire. "Angel -"
"I thought I'd look through the garden. I mean, with the sunshine and everything, I know that's where I'd hide if I were a pandimensional crack."
"I was just about to suggest that." Wesley breathed a sigh of relief; enough sun for Angel might cancel out several weeks' worth of brooding when they got back. "And Fred, professor Frink, Bart and I will take the upstairs."
"Hey! I wanna come with!" Lisa looked devastated at being left behind.
"Sorry, honey, I'm afraid you'll have to stay down here with me and Maggie," Marge said.
"But -"
"Your mom's right, Lisa." Fred kneeled down by the 8-year-old. "This is dangerous business, and nobody wants you to get hurt. See you in a few, OK?"
The oldest human member of the posse spoke up. "And what about me? I was fightin' Germans before any of you were even a twinkle in the milkman's eye! If there's a monster around here, I'll be the one to find it, dagnabbit!"
"Grandpa -"
"Oh, I get it! 'Grandpa's old and useless, he can't be counted on to fight the forces of darkness anymore', is it? Well, I'm still full of piss and vinegar, and I'm telling you I'm-" He fell asleep where he stood, snoring loudly.
Wesley's party made its way upstairs, guided by Bart who knew the place inside out. Just outside Burns' private study, they paused and listened carefully; they could hear a faint buzzing noise, as well as two voices arguing. Wesley cocked his shotgun. "On my signal. One... two... three!" He kicked the door down.
The crack in reality stretched from one end of the room to the other, glowing bright blue and buzzing angrily as it tried in vain to close. Also in the room was a large spaceship of the flying-saucer variety – only not so much flying as stuck in the crack like a cork in a bottle. Through its transparent dome, the gang could see two green space aliens with tentacles and huge fangs, drooling profusely as they argued about just who had gotten them into this mess. When Fred cleared her throat, the aliens turned towards them in surprise, and one of them spoke up in a deep, supposedly terrifying voice.
"Oh. Um... Greetings, earthlings. I am Kang, and this is my sister Kodos. We are your new mas..." Kodos prodded him and pointed to Wesley's shotgun. "...I mean, we come in peace."
Kodos nodded. "Yes. Peace. Absolutely. I don't suppose you could give us a little help getting out of this predicament, so we can kill... I mean, reward and serve you?"
Wesley stepped forward. "What are you doing here?"
"We were on our way to London when we were sucked in by this thing and got stuck. Someone," Kang shot Kodos a mean glare, "had the oh-so-bright idea of infiltrating humanity by posing as the British government."
"The plan would have worked if you had known how to navigate!"
"No, it wouldn't! Nine and Rose would have stopped us, and then the Daleks would..."
"This is bad." Wesley turned to the others. "It sounds like the crack is spreading to even more 'verses. We need to close it immediately. Ideas, anyone?"
Professor Frink puffed himself up. "Well, it should be obvious to anyone with an advanced degree in theoretical physics that what we're dealing with here is a practical application of Wiltzinger's theorem of the..."
"Really?" Fred frowned. "Wiltzinger specifically ruled out portals between different worlds, right? This looks more like a DuCroutier-style wormhole to me, and..."
"Oh sweet glayven muyven, DuCroutier was a hack!"
Bart yawned; this was beginning to sound an awful lot like school. Hmmm, that spaceship looked like it needed a dent or two... He got out his slingshot, lined up a small stone, pulled the rubber band back and let go. The pebble hit the spaceship with a distinct "ding", offsetting the delicate balance that kept it trapped, and with a loud "schwooop!" the spaceship was sucked into the crack, which closed and disappeared. Everyone looked at Bart, who immediately hid the slingshot behind his back. "I didn't do it. Nobody saw me. You can't prove anything."
"Actually," Wesley said, "that was a pretty good solution."
Fred scratched her arm. "But what if they belonged to this 'verse and are trapped in the wrong one now?"
"Well, that's unfortunate, but I suppose they're somebody else's problem now, so..." Suddenly, a thought struck Wesley. "Wait! How are we going to get back home now that the crack is closed?"
A few hours later, Professor Frink had finished constructing the portable crack generator that would make it possible for them to drive back to Los Angeles. As he only had enough material for one, they had convinced principal Skinner to let Otto drive everyone there in the school bus.
As the Angel gang and the Simpsons family got ready to board the bus, the citizens of Springfield gathered to see them off, but there was a general unease in the crowd. Finally, Cletus the slack-jawed yokel said what was on everyone's mind. "Hey, wait a minute. What if there's more of them thar monsters runnin' 'round?"
"My God!" Mrs Lovejoy grew pale with fright. "Somebody PLEASE think of the CHILDREN!"
"Well..." Angel frowned. "Don't you have any champions in this town?"
"Champions?"
"Yeah, you know. Heroes."
Bart's face lit up. "You mean like Radioactive Man? With capes and tights and stuff?"
"I guess... but non-fictional."
Homer patted him on the back, smiling reassuringly. "Don't worry, I know just the people. Just give me a minute." Five minutes later he was back with two cape-and-tights-wearing persons in tow. "I give you: Springfield's champions!"
"Uh..." Angel gave him a doubtful look, then shrugged. "Right. So, we don't expect there to be any more trouble now that the crack has been closed, but just in case, your job will be to fight it – if possible – but above all to make sure that everyone is safe. Do you think you can handle that?"
"Yes sir! Duffman will protect this city!" Duffman puffed his chest out proudly. "Any other fiends who try to take over Springfield will have to face the cool, relaxing, foamy wrath of Duffman!"
His stripy co-champion, the Bumblebee Man, looked slightly less confident as he anxiously shook his head. "Ay, dios mio. Yo no soy un vigilante."
And as the dusk settled, the school bus pulled out onto the streets of Springfield and Otto put the pedal to the metal. And so they drove on towards LA through the cooling darkness, almost running down an overweight man who was crossing the street while reading the latest issue of The Astonishing X-Men and avoided being hit by the bus only by diving for cover at the last second. To the sound of Homer yelling "Eat my dust, Springfield!" and a hearty "HAAA-ha!" from a schoolboy who happened to see the incident, the fat man got to his feet with as much wounded dignity as he could muster, carefully dusted himself off and snorted with contempt.
"Worst. Crossover. Ever."
TBC
On to Part 6
