Ed and Harry Take Los AngelesAuthor:
It's possible that there are alternate universes out there where I own Supernatural
; this universe, however, is not one of them. I own nothing.Summary:
Angel learns that 'The Powers That Be' have a wicked sense of humor. Notes:
Spoilers for "Hell House" and assumes that Angel Season 5 and Supernatural Season 1 overlap.
*****The road to hell is paved with good intentions
, that's the old saying. And Angel should know better than anyone just how true that old proverb rings. He should have known it long
before now, truth be told, but it's never felt truer to him than it does right at this moment.
He tries, gives everything he has, sometimes more
than he has. Sometimes it's enough. And sometimes he falls so short that he may as well have not tried at all. He's just one man – well, one vampire
, and there's only so much that he alone can do. Luckily, he's not always alone. There are others out there who fight. Slayers,
Watchers…Hunters. And sometimes there's something…more. Call it what you will: higher powers, powers that be, a guiding hand. Every once in a while, for one brief moment, the light sees fit to shed itself upon the darkness and illuminate the higher path. A path that, sometimes, leads to doing the right thing, the noble thing. Though it is sometimes difficult, it is a path Angel has trusted to lead him back to righteousness.
And he's never regretted that trust more than he does right at this moment.
"Well, I really think we made a good team out there, your resources coupled with our know-how. I think this might be the right place for us, you know. It's sort of like…what's that word?"
"Exactly, Harry. It's fate."
Yeah. If Angel had realized what a couple of douche bags the Powers-That-Be were sending him out to save, he'd have told the Powers exactly where they could stick their skull-cracking vision. He's never met two more annoying morons in his unnaturally long life, and that's including Spike, Xander, and Andrew.
Clearly the Powers have given up on humanity and switched to the darkside if they're sending Angel out to save short little nimrods such as these. There's two of them, which is really two too many. The one with glasses, Ed, has a pompous ego that could give Andrew a run for his Star Wars collectibles, and they're both ridiculously short (which also reminds Angel of Andrew). Moreover, they're both clearly deluded with illusions of grandeur.
"Obviously the forces of darkness have been trying to stifle the story we came to share with the world," Ed says.
More like they invaded the lair of a gremlin and its first thought was dinner came early
as would be the first thought of any normal, human-eating gremlin, Angel thinks. Gremlins, in general, aren't high-thinkers. It probably didn't help that the two of them reek of dead fish. The gremlin probably thought it had scored something gourmet.
"But thanks to our teamwork, the whole world will know the truth." Did this Ed guy never stop
"If by teamwork you mean our saving you incompetent pillocks from becoming some gremlin's dinner and a show," Spike drawls condescendingly.Yeah
, Angel thinks vehemently to himself, then pauses. Did he just agree with Spike on something? Damnit
! Obviously these two were bad news.
"Thank you for that by the way," the dark-haired one, Harry, cuts in.
At least one of them seems to have a grain-of-salt's worth of common sense.
"It would suck if we died before we became famous," Harry continues.
Angel realizes he spoke too soon about that common sense.
"You see, we, like yourselves, are paranormal investigators," Ed adds. "Give them our card, Harry."
With a scoff, Spike says, "Well, I've done my hero bit. I'm not getting paid for the rest of this nonsense." And just like the fair-weather fighter for which Angel has always made the blonde vampire out to be, Spike leaves the rest of them to the wolves, walking out the office doors in a flourish of jacket-waving leather. Really…what did Buffy ever see in that jackass?
Harry hands the card he dug out of his pocket to Wesley, who looks at it with a frown and something akin to trepidation. Wesley is the logical one though, Angel thinks; he'll know what to do to get them out of this mess.
"What was it again that brought you to Los Angeles?" Wesley asks though his expression clearly indicates he'd rather not.
"We're supposed to meet our producer here. He wants to turn our experience into a big movie. You may have heard about it online. Hell Hound's Lair dot com?" When Angel, Gunn, and Wesley continue to stare blankly, Ed takes the hint, coughs, and moves on. "Well, it was quite a harrowing experience. But we busted this ghost that had been terrorizing the citizens of Richardson, Texas."
"Busted a ghost. Get it?" Ed cuts in excitedly. "Like Ghostbusters."
"We, ourselves, nearly died, but we managed to survive, saving the lives of two amateur hunters and possibly hundreds of others in the process," Ed tells them proudly.
"And how exactly did you manage to eradicate this ghost?" Wesley asks.
"Well, after we bravely infiltrated the ghosts domain in an attempt to rescue the two amateurs who so foolishly attempted to fight the ghost on their own, no doubt merely seeking cheap thrills, we, ah, burned the house down. Effectively putting a stop to the ghost's reign of murder and terror." Ed tells the story in a voice so chockfull of overdramatic flair that it probably would have made Andrew shed a tear.
"You burned down a house?" Gunn asks incredulously, no doubt imaging all the legal ramifications in which such an action would no doubt result. Who did these two think they were anyway?
"Well, actually…" Ed trails off.
Harry picks up the story, "It wasn't us so much as those two amateurs…"
"Pure luck on their part really," Ed interrupts. "Those two were lucky to walk away from something like that. It takes sheer, unabashed talent to be able to do what we do."
"They lost all of our footage too," Harry pouts.
"I see," Wesley states slowly before turning to look at Angel. "Well, I think it's imperative that I get down to the lab, see what Fred can make of this gremlin attack and see if there's anything of," he cuts a quick glance at the geek-heroes then looks to Angel with ironic humor, "importance."
Wesley is out of the office before Angel can voice his protest, and their team is down to only two.
Angel looks at Gunn, who looks like a cornered animal, fight-or-flight instincts apparent in his darting glances.
"Gunn," Angel intones, his voice half-threat, half-plea.
Gunn looks at Angel, sees his distress, looks to the two geeks, and then looks back to Angel again. For a moment there's a shared reliance, a camaraderie of brothers-in-arms. "Man, you know I always got your back in any sort of throw down."
Angel feels relief flood through him. He knew if there were a member of his team that he could count on, it would be Gunn. No matter the danger, no matter the cost, Gunn has always been ready to fight the good—
"But you're on your own in this." And with that Gunn beats it out of the office like a man chased by the hounds of hell. And Angel's seen men chased by Hellhounds in his time; he knows what that looks like.
"You know what?" Angel yells after the others. "You're all fired! You hear me?"
"What's chewing the olive in your martini, cutie pants?" Lorne asks as he strolls in nonchalantly, heedless of the danger he's just entered. Good 'ole Lorne.
"Lorne, thank God you're—" is all Angel can get out before Ed and Harry are screaming like girls at the sight of Lorne and trying to climb into each other arms.
It's an earsplitting sound; grating, high-pitched, and loud enough to wake the dead. And unfortunately this is the second time in one night that Angel's been forced to hear it. "Oh for God's sake would you two just SHUT UP!"
The silence is instant and golden.
Angel looks to Lorne with an intensity he's never felt before. "Get them out of here before I kill them."
"Okay, boys," Lorne greets them in that overly cheerful way of his. "Looks like the boss, here, is in one of his cranky moods. Now I know I must look rather startling, but I'm telling you green is the new pink. So why don't you two come with me and I'll show you the exciting part of Wolfram & Hart."
The two geeks cling to each other a moment longer, looking reluctant to go anywhere with someone who is sprouting horns. Angel growls menacingly. If they don't leave…he could just kill them. What's two more kills after of lifetime of death and carnage? Or he could let Harmony eat them. It'd be like a Christmas bonus…
Apparently, Lorne has picked up on Angel's homicidal mood because before Angel can decide in which manner he'd most like to kill them, the singing demon is herding the geeks out of the office.
"Why don't I give you two a guided tour," Lorne is saying as he leads the dumbstruck geeks out the door. "I head up Wolfram & Hart's entertainment department. I think that'd be a great place to start."
"Entertainment department? Really? You know, it's funny you should mention that. We actually came to L.A. because we..."
As the trio finally leaves the range of the vampire's hearing, Angel slumps tiredly in his chair, leaning back in relief. "Note to self: give Lorne a raise, fire everyone else, take a vacation. A long vacation."
*****Four months later in some indiscriminate motel room.
Mysterious music pours from the outdated television, which holds the room's two occupants at rapt attention.
"What you've just witnessed is a reenactment of true events. It was only through our actions that the ghost of Mordechai Murdock was put the rest, thus ending the ghost's murderous rampage and saving the lives of many, including two amateur ghost hunters. Once again we'd like to take this time to remind all of our viewers not to try this at home."
"That's right folks. Leave the ghost hunting to the professionals. In the meantime, I'm Harry Spangler."
"And I'm Ed Zeddmore. Meet us back here next week for another episode of 'Mysteries of the Unknown'. This has been a Hellhound's Lair production."
As the credits roll and the show's theme music cues up, the two brothers continue to stare at the television with twin expressions of wide-eyed bafflement.
"What the fuck?" is all Dean can think to say.
And, really, Sam couldn't agree more.