beer_good_foamy | Fic: Elves, Gremlins and Eskimoes

It took almost six months, but... here's part 4!

Title: Elves, Gremlins and Eskimoes
Author: Beer Good (

beer_good_foamy)
Rating: PG13
Timeline: Angel season 5, non-Simpsons-movie-compliant
Word Count: ~2600 (this chapter)
Disclaimer: Angel characters are owned by Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy. Simpsons characters are owned by Matt Groening and FOX TV.
Summary: Angel/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 4, in which our heroes meet up with some allies. Part 1 can be found here, part 2 here, and part 3 here.

Part 4: Resources

Previously on "Elves, Gremlins and Eskimoes": Angel got fired, Burns got hired, the Fang Gang went on a road trip, Spike made a friend, Angel got blasted in the face with a shotgun.

"That gentled you down some, didn't it?" Moe peeked over the bar as Angel sat up, wincing.

Ears still ringing from the shotgun blast, Gunn and Wesley took the opportunity to jump the bar, snatch the shotgun away from the ugly bartender and shove him up against the wall. "Betcha didn’t expect him to get up again, huh?"

"Hey, hey, hey, watch the shirt!"

"I’m alright, Gunn." Angel stumbled to his feet, grimacing and spitting. "I hate getting shot... that stung."

"Gee, fellas, it was just salt!" Moe wriggled out of Gunn’s grip.

Wesley sniffed the shotgun with a confused look. "You loaded the shotgun with rock salt?"

"Nah, just regular salt." Moe shrugged. "I ordered a hundred pounds back when tequila shots were supposed to be the big thing, but nobody around here never drinks nothing but Duff. Uh, no hard feelings, right guys?" He quickly poured a few beers and handed them out to his new guests.

The gang cautiously accepted the glasses and took a sip. Everyone except Wesley grimaced. "This beer is warm."

"Well, whaddayou expect? Power’s been out ever since that Mr Burns skipped town. Lousy town-skippers, they're all the same."

"Well, as it turns out..." Wesley took another deep swig of beer. "This is excellent, by the way. It’s rare to find an American barkeep who knows the proper serving temperature of beer."

"Wes..."

"Right. As I was saying, we happen to be in town to find out more about this Mr Burns. I don’t suppose you would know someone who can tell us anything about him?"

Moe shook his head. "I sell beer. Ya want information, get it from the police. I don't wants no trouble."

"But Moe..." One of the sad drunks at the far end of the bar, an obese man who obviously had not set foot outside the tavern in the last 18 years, belched violently before slurring on. "Wasn't Homer in here yesterday, talking about how he knew Mr Burns better than anyone and could make life very difficult for him?"

"Barney's right," answered another man sharing a snug booth with a, um, friend. "Ever since we got laid off from the plant, Homer's been all 'I'll show him' this and 'He'll be sorry he messed with Homer J Simpson' that every time he's drunk. They got a history, right Carl?"

"Yeah. I mean, his daughter even shot Mr Burns that one time," his dark-skinned companion added.

"I thought that was Mr Smithers?"

"Nah, I'm pretty sure it was little Maggie Simpson."

Barney gasped. "You mean it wasn't ME? I was sure... I've been drinking away the *hic* guilt ever since, and... dear God, I've wasted my life!" He held up the empty beer glass to the lack of light, blinking away the tears. "This must be it. Rock bottom. I'm going to turn my life around. No more drinking. From now on, you'll be seeing a new Barney Gumble!"

Moe quickly poured him another beer. "That's great, Barn. I think that deserves a toast, don't you?"

"Well... I suppose... one last drop." Barney emptied the glass in one long swig, belched and sighed with pleasure. "Oh yeah. That hit the spot. What were we talking about again?"

"Nothing important."

Meanwhile, Lenny and Carl – aided by another round of tepid Duff - had convinced the Angel gang that this Homer Simpson was definitely their man if they wanted to wage war on Burns. "Hey, Moe, give them Homer's address."

"Why would I wanna do that? Taking on Burns, that sounds dangerous."

"Well..." Angel furrowed his brow. "The fight against evil is never easy, or safe. But a champion must always be prepared to -"

"Alright, alright, shut yer trap, he lives at 742 Evergreen Terrace." Moe shot an angry look at Lenny and Carl. "And if these weirdos get Homer killed, I'm chargin' his bar tab to youse guys."

The gang thanked everyone and made their way towards the exit... but before they made it there, they heard Moe cock the shotgun behind them. "Uh, fellas... I never said that beer youse had was free."

"So are we sure about this?" Angel hesitated with his finger on the doorbell. "I mean, based on what his friends told us about him, not to mention that he still has Christmas ornaments on his roof in September..."

"I figure anyone who's messed up that many times and still kept his job must have some kinda secret his boss don't want the world to know," Gunn shrugged. "Besides, I ain't goin' back to that bar if I can help it."

"Well, we still have to pick up Lorne on the way back," Fred pointed out. "It was nice of him to sing for our tab."

"Yeah yeah. Now ring the damn bell already."

Angel rang the doorbell. Or rather, he pushed the button to no avail, as there was – of course – no power. Everyone glanced at each other as if to say "Yeah, I knew that," and then Angel knocked.

The door was opened by a boy, looking to be about 10 years old but with a hard, wicked spark in his eye, as if he'd seen a little too much (and caused most of it).

"Hi, we're... uh..." Angel hesitated. "Are you supposed to be up this late?"

"Meh. I'm Bart Simpson, who the hell are you?"

"We're here to see your father."

"DAAAD!" Bart seemed bored with them already. "VISITORS!"

The entire house shook as something big approached at a gallop. Gunn, Angel and Wes instinctively checked that they had their weapons ready, but relaxed when the thing showing up in the doorway turned out to be merely a man. To be precise, a man in his late 30s, balding, overweight, sweating profusely and looking as excited as a well-behaved child on Christmas. "Are you from the TV company?"

"Uh..." Angel, Gunn, Wesley and Fred exchanged a look before Wes continued. "Actually, we'd like to talk to you about your former employer. You used to work at Mr Burns' nuclear power plant, correct?"

"Do you know anything about TVs?"

"Not as such... but it's very important that we get to speak with you."

Homer's shoulders slumped in disappointment. "Awww. Alright, I guess." He turned to walk inside, nodding for them to follow, which they did... except for Angel.

"Um... Mr Simpson, is it allright if I enter your home?"

"I said so already, didn't I?"

"Actually, you didn't say it."

"Oh, I think I know when I've invited someone into my home."

"All the same, I'd really need you to say it."

"Say what?"

Gunn, Wesley and Fred exchanged a look. Wesley cleared his throat. "Angel is... very formal. He needs a spoken invitation before he'll enter someone's home."

"Really?" Homer looked uncertain, and whispered in Wesley's ear loud enough for everyone to hear: "Is this some sort of gay thing?"

"Of course not! He's just..."

"Oh, I get it, he's too snobby to enter just anyone's home, is he?" Homer puffed up his chest as the rest of the family came out into the hallway to see what the hubbub was about. "Well, let me tell you, Mr Big City, if you don't want to enter my home, then fine. I'm not going to force you. You can just stay out there as far as I'm concerned."

His wife sighed. "Oh, for heaven's sake, Homer, just invite the man in!"

"No." Homer crossed his arms, sulking.

"Look," Angel said, "I apologize if I insulted you in any way, but my companions and I really need your help. So if you'll just invite me in..."

"Actually, Dad..." The Simpsons' daughter, keeping respectful distance, looked at Angel with a suspicious frown. "I don't think you should."

Homer turned to her with a look like a defiant 5-year-old. "Oh you don't think I should, do you? Well, let me tell you missy, when Homer J Simpson invites a man into his home, then that man is welcome in this house and that's that!"

"I'm glad to hear that." Angel nodded. For a few seconds, everyone stood around waiting. "So...?"

"What?" Homer blinked.

"Are you going to invite me in?"

"Oh, sorry. Puh-leeeese come in, your majesty."

Angel finally entered. As everyone introduced themselves they moved into the candle-lit living room, except for Marge who hurried into the kitchen to rustle up something to eat.

"So, Mr Simpson, we're..." Angel trailed off as he looked at the contraption sitting beside the TV. "What is that?"

"I've been building my own powerplant but..." Homer pointed to the heap of randomly pieced together electrical appliances and wires connected to a hamster wheel. "Some people don't appreciate the importance of television."

"Homer, for the last time." Marge entered with a tray of cookies. "The dog doesn't fit inside the hamster wheel."

"Stupid dog." Homer grumbled and kneeled next to the dead TV, brushing the dust off its screen. "Patience, my love. Soon, we will be reunited."

Wesley cleared his throat. "Mr Simpson... I really think we need to talk. We have come all the way from Los Angeles to find out -"

"Take that, evil fiend!" Suddenly, Lisa leapt up in front of Angel, brandishing a cross. Angel instinctively stumbled backwards, yelping heroically. "A-HA!" Lisa was all triumph. "I knew it! He's a vampire!"

"Oh, honey, he's not a vampire. And be careful with that." Marge took the cross from her.

"But he is, Mom! He's pale, he needed an invitation, he's afraid of crosses and he hasn't even touched your cookies! He's one of the walking undead! Begone, demon!"

"I'm really sorry, Mr Angel," Marge said. "I don't know what's gotten into her tonight. Usually she's the good one, but with everything that's been going on..."

The Angel gang looked at each other, and Angel nodded. "It's OK. She's right. I am a vampire."

"SEE! Told you!" Lisa jumped up and down with excitement.

Bart was not bored at all anymore. "Cool!"

"Oh well. I'll go check if we have any blood in the fridge." Marge disappeared into the kitchen again.

"So when you say you're a vampire..." Homer furrowed his brow. "What you're actually saying is...?"

"Dad... I think he really means he's a vampire."

Homer chuckled. "Oh, Lisa, what did I tell you about vampires? They're not real, just like elves, gremlins and -"

The girl rolled her eyes. "We’ve been over this. Eskimoes are real, Dad. And apparently, vampires too."

"Sure they are, honey. Suuure they are." Homer smiled, ruffled Lisa's hair and turned to Angel. "Aren't kids just the sweetest things when they think they know everything?"

"Uh..." Angel glanced at his colleagues, raising his voice slightly. "I wouldn't know. Vampires can't have children."

"Uh-huh. So how many kids do you have?"

"Listen to me!" Lisa stamped her foot. "He is a vampire! He kills by sucking blood!"

"Well, actually..." Angel did the standard cursed-with-a-soul presentation. (It had really become a lot easier since he got Harmony to put together a laminated Powerpoint presentation about it.)

"See, Lisa? He's a good vampire."

Lisa sighed. "If anybody wants me, I'll be in my room." She trudged upstairs.

Wesley rubbed his temples; he had a feeling this would be a long night. "Now, Mr Simpson. What we need from you..."

Upstairs, Lisa was lying on her bed, writing in her diary when there was a knock on the door. "Come in. I mean, wait -"

The door opened. "Hi, Lisa. Can I talk to you for a second?"

"Oh. Hello, miss Burkle. You're not a vampire too, right?"

"No. And please, call me Fred." Fred sat down on the edge of Lisa's bed. "Whatcha writing?"

"My diary. I know it's silly, but-"

"Oh heck, I kept a diary until I was 21. Then they got... weird." Fred grimaced. "I just wanted to say, that was some impressive thinking on your feet down there. Figuring out Angel's a vampire just like that..."

"It just seemed logical, you know? Besides, a lot of weird things have been happening here at night since the power plant shut down. I mean, there's..." Lisa stopped. "Nah. You wouldn't believe me."

"Hey, until a couple of days ago, I was the head of the science department of an interdimensional lawfirm run by a vampire. Trust me, there are very few things I wouldn't believe. Except leprechauns."

Lisa suddenly came over all awestruck. "You had an entire science department all to yourself?"

"Yup. State-of-the-art... well, everything." Fred sighed wistfully. "They told me it's the fourth most advanced lab on the planet."

"Oh, that's so what I want to do when I grow up..." She got out a binder of photocopied articles from science magazines. "Did you have access to a particle accelerator too? I thought the latest findings on ekpyrotic processes in relation to string theory was fascinating."

Fred got in physics geek mode along with her. "Actually, I think Khoury doesn't know what he's talking about, I mean the findings of..." She leafed through the binder. "You've read all this? And understood it?"

"Well... not all of it."

"That's still pretty impressive for an 8-year-old. Betcha get that from your dad, huh? Him being a nuclear technician and all...?"

Lisa laughed nervously. "Uh... yeah. I guess. Look, I don't know what you want with my dad, but he's not really..."

"Our company has been taken over by his former boss, and we need to find a way to get rid of him."

Lisa grew pale. "Mr Burns has access to the fourth most advanced lab on the face of the planet?"

"Well, some of it's underground, but... yeah. That's one of the reasons we're trying to stop him." Fred smiled. "You wanna help us?"

As Fred and Lisa came back downstairs with a few quickly loaded bags, the discussion was still going on in the living room.

"...and that should be it." Wesley had spent two hours trying to explain the situation to Homer, and his head was killing him. "Any questions?"

"Just a few. What is a Wolfram & Hart again?"

"A law firm."

"Oh, of course. And a CEO?"

"The boss of a company."

"A-ha. And Los Angeles?"

"Is a big city in California."

"Read you loud and clear. Then I just have one more question: who is -"

"Mr Burns is your former boss at the nuclear power plant."

"Riiight." Homer nodded thoughtfully, emphasizing his words with finger quotes. "So what your saying is that if I go with you to 'Los Angeles' to help you stop 'Mr Burns' from staying 'CEO' of a 'law firm', you will get my TV working again?"

Angel, Gunn and Wesley exchanged a very long look. "Uh... sure."

"Then what are we waiting for?" Homer got to his feet, declaring loud and clear: "The Simpsons are going to LA!"

"Yeah!" Bart, whose bedtime had been forgotten in all the excitement, pumped his fist in the air.

Marge yawned. "Homer, it's after midnight. You know what..."

"Oh. Right. First thing tomorrow, The Simpsons are going to LA!"

"Look, Mr Simpson, we're really in quite a hurry here." Angel glanced at his watch, shaking off a strange feeling of deja vu.

"I appreciate that, Mr Angel," Marge replied, "but we don't go out after midnight. Strange things have been happening lately."

"Oh, come on, Mom! Last one in the car's a rotten egg!" Bart ran to the door and threw it open – and froze on the doorstep as he saw what was outside.

The two giant creatures walking down the street immediately turned their heads towards the sound of the door opening. Baring their teeth in vicious grins, they lifted their weapons and charged the house. As they came closer, the Angel gang were horrified to see what they were: a cat and a mouse, both well over 10 feet tall on their hind legs, with giant axes in their hands and a murderous gleam in their eyes.

"Oh no!" Bart gasped. "It's Itchy and Scratchy! Run!"

TBC

A/N: Sorry about the long wait for an update, but I do have most of the plot worked out now and should be able to finish this within... well... the ancient Maya believed the world will end on 21 December 2012. Before then, and that's a promise.

On to Part 5

Current Mood: On crack
Current Music: Spiderpig, Spiderpig, does whatever a Spiderpig does

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

From:

shinodabear.livejournal.com

I was laughing hysterically throughout, and nearly died when I came to (It had really become a lot easier since he got Harmony to put together a laminated Powerpoint presentation about it.). And Homer was just . . . perfect. And rock salt in the shotgun. And Lenny&Carl. *G* So many bits to love.

I say well worth the wait.

From:

Fic: Elves, Gremlins and Eskimoes - Part 4

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