"And now we are privileged to see the lesser-spotted American brown haired moose in it's natural habitat."
David Attenborough wipes a little condensation off the window with his forefinger and beckons you closer. You're moving towards the motel window when he whispers:
"Ooh, look out for that Mysore Raspberry on your right, the thorns are an utter bastard if they get under your skin."
You nod your thanks and navigate around the bush. When you reach the window he points to the spot he's cleaned off and you look inside.
Sam Winchester is sat at a too small table, facing away from you and tapping away on a silver laptop. It's hard to see through the glass but you can make out 'Busty Asian Beauties' at the top of the page. Slightly disgusted, you wonder how he gets his wi-fi in such a crappy motel.
"What's it doing?"
You bat David away with your hand as you continue looking through the window. You hear the rasp of fabric as he crosses his arms and his impatient tutting is like a small child flicking your ear from behind.
"It's just sitting there, on a laptop."
You say to shut him up. The moose shifts in his seat and you duck down, smirking as he hits his knee on the table.
"What happened?"
"He just hit his knee on the table, shut up David or he'll hear us."
You hear him tut again behind you and you could just catch him whispering 'silly moose' under his breath.
The moose shifts again and leans to his side, looking away from his laptop to a door- opposite you-leading out of the room. You think you see his mouth moving.
"Attenborough."
"What?"
"I think he's talking to someone but I can't hear him."
You turn your head to see him staring at you, his arms crossed and pouting slightly, 200% done with your shit.
"Well then open the window."
"What?"
"Just open the window- here, move"
He shoves you out of the way and you nearly fall into a bush. While you're regaining your balance as a dull thunk echoes like a gunshot in the near silence when Attenborough lifts the window. You both drop to the ground and you grimace as David's knees crack.
From your position -half buried in a nettle bush- you hear the moose's chair scrape across the floor and soft footsteps as he pads over to the window. You could just catch a gruff voice shouting from within the apartment.
"Sammy, you alright out there?"
"Yeah," the moose's voice yelled from just above your head,"the window fell down, false alarm." He lifts the window higher and clips it in place, then walks back into the apartment. You hear a quiet scraping and you deduce that he sat back down at his laptop.
You stare at David, praising Satan that the moose didn't look down. He throws you a nervous grin and begins to pull himself to his feet, you get up too- a tad more gracefully- then help him to stand. You take a moment to brush the dirt from whatever fabulous ensemble you're wearing today.
"That was a close one."
David nods in agreement and you return to the window.
The moose is indeed back at his laptop -we'll just call you Sherlock- and he was now searching about-
"Vampires?"
You shrug.
"Maybe he's into Twilight?"
Attenborough snorts beside you- The moose turns and you both drop below the windowsill. You glare at David and he looks away apologetically.
Slowly rising to your feet again you peep into the room once more. You hear the gruff voice again and guess it's coming from behind the door the moose looked at earlier.
"Hey Sammy!"
"Yeah?" The moose didn't look away from his laptop.
"Where'd you put the shampoo?"
"Uh..." He tore himself away from a Wikipedia page and thought about it.
"It's not on the shelf?"
"Nah, there's just soap."
Sam leant back in his chair and crossed his arms.
"You checked under the sink?"
"Uh..."
You hear a muffled 'crap!' and a thump from behind the door.
"Dean?" The moose rose slightly from his seat, concerned.
"It's okay, it's okay!" The door opened and a bow-legged beauty stepped out, muscles flexing as he fastened a white towel around his waist. He's shorter than the moose, with dirty blonde hair and piercing green eyes -which are staring right at you.
David swears softly.
"Uh...Sam? You met the window shoppers?" He nods towards you, and Sam rises from his seat, turning to face you as well. The moose looks angry.
"How long have you been there?!" He glares at you both incredulously, slamming the laptop shut as he strides towards you.
David steps away from the window and trips on a bush. You hear a dull thump as he hits the ground. He doesn't get up. You panic and look down at him, then relax. He's still breathing, it'll be fine.
You return your attention to the angered moose at the window sill, who is currently leaning out of said window in an attempt to grab you. You jump back, but too slow- he grabs you by the shoulder and pulls you to him.
Bow-legs pipes up behind the moose.
"Whoa there Sammy, let the kid go," he appears next to Sam in the gap between the window and the wall and examines you,"I mean how old are you, like twelve?" You scowl but before you can reply the pair turn around- distracted.
"Dean, I came as quickly as I could. Are you in danger?"
You try to hide a grin- whoever it was sounded like he was doing a bad Batman impression.
You can just see the new arrival around the moose, he's shorter than them both- brown hair, suit, and a ratty looking trench coat.
"Uh, no Cas, I'm fine-," bow-legs now speaking,"but d'you mind...y'know- vamoosing outta here? Me and Sammy are kinda in the middle of something."
He glances up and down at bow-legs, noting his lack of clothes.
"Oh...I see. Well I-"
"Oh no, Cas I didn't mean- God no-I just showered- I meant we're on a job-brothers Cas! Brothers!"
"Oh. I understand, Dean. Who's the one at the window?"
The three all turn round simultaneously and face you with a mixture of curious gazes and angry glares.
You blink and Trenchcoat disappears. Confused, you lean to the side to check if he'd moved, then nearly collapse as an iron hand clamps around your shoulder.
A second later you're inside the apartment and the moose is dragging a chair that hits the back of your legs, which Trenchcoat unceremoniously shoves you into.
"Why are you here?"
Trenchcoat leans over you, gripping the chair's arms on either side. His grey coat creates a barrier, so all you can see is his head and the back wall. His face is about an inch from your own, and you can't help but wonder if he's ever heard of personal space.
Bow-legs walks in through the door, dressed in a plaid shirt and jeans, holding a bottle of beer. He must have run off to get dressed during the commotion.
"Aw Cas, what're you doing?"
Trenchcoat glances behind him to Bow-legs who sounds exasperated, and you see him slump into a similar chair on the other side of the room.
"I'm interrogating the prisoner," Trenchcoat turns back to you,"Who sent you?"
You panic.
"Er...Commissioner Gordon- he says Robin needs you back at the Batcave."
Bow-legs snorts and nearly spits beer everywhere, and you hear the moose's muffled laughter behind you.
"What- I don't understand, who is Commissioner Gordon?" He glances to Bow-legs and the moose questioningly then glares back at you.
"Is Commissioner Gordon in league with Lucif-"
"Cas," Bow-legs appears at Trenchcoat's shoulder, amusement showing on his face,"lay off the kid." Bow-legs throws you an apologetic look, shrugs, then takes another swig of beer.
"Stay back Dean, I've almost cracked h-"
The moose interrupts.
"Come on Cas, you've had your fun."
He gently places a hand on Trenchcoat's shoulder and pulls him away from you. Bow-legs is stifling laughter in the background and Trenchcoat resembles a kid that's just had it's favourite toy taken away- all pouts and puppy eyes.
"I take no enjoyment in my interrogations if that's what you're implying."
He moves to the back of the room and leans against the wall, sulking.
Bow-legs moves forwards, still grinning and offers his hand to help pull you out of the chair. You take it, still a bit confused about the rapid change of events, and find yourself standing awkwardly close to him. He nods at you then walks over to the mini-fridge in the corner- previously invisible due to Trenchcoat's interrogation- and grabs a chilled beer, offering it to you with a wave of his hand. Moose protests.
"Dean! The kid's, like, twelve."
"And?"
"And...d'you wanna deal with some underage drunk kid? We don't have time Dean!"
Bow-legs shrugs, slightly annoyed.
"Dude, Dad gave me booze underage and I turned out fine."
You can practically hear the moose frowning, then Trenchcoat pipes up.
"That's debatable."
Dean scowls and throws the beer over your head to the moose, who catches it then opens it in one smooth motion.
"Sorry kiddo."
You shrug to show your indifference. You didn't want the beer anyway.
"So..."
Bow-legs leans up against the table the moose is sitting at and sips his beer. Trenchcoat is still standing in the corner, arms crossed over his chest and glaring at Bow-legs. You stand awkwardly in the middle. Moose breaks the silence.
"So, uh, how long were you watching us again?" His voice went suspiciously high at the end of his question and he slyly pressed the standby on his laptop.
You think for a second.
"Um, a few minutes maybe? Just before the window...fell down."
"Oh, so that was you guys. I could have sworn I'd left the window shut."
"Yeah, you did, we opened it."
"Er, why?"
"So we could hear what you were saying."
"Oh. That's a little creepy."
"Yeah."
"Yeah."
The moose sips his beer. The silence starts to get awkward, and your legs are beginning to ache from standing still too long. You really need to exercise more. Trenchcoat breaks the breaks the silence with his Batman voice.
"I should probably leave..." He glanced at Bow-legs who looks away, suddenly very interested in the peeling wallpaper to his left. "It seems I'm somewhat redundant here."
He disappears in the blink of an eye, and you nearly fall over in surprise.
"Did he just...poof?"
"You could say that, yeah."
Now that Trenchcoat was gone Bow-legs relaxed slightly, his shoulders drooping, and drained the rest of his bottle.
You take a minute to look around the room. It's your average crappy motel really. Two single beds, 80's decor, a small ensuite and a table with mis-matched chairs near the window. Then there's the wall next to the table- adjacent to the window and opposite the beds- plastered with newspaper clippings and Wikipedia print-outs. The moose observes you reading the newspaper clippings.
"Oh, just ignore those, they're nothing really just-"
"Does that say vampire sitings?"
"Uh, no it says, um-"
The newspaper clippings, the moose's browsing history, 'on a case'? Your Sherlock-esque deduction skills strike again.
"Oh my God do you guys hunt vampires?!"
The pair suddenly look deadly serious. Bow-legs puts down his bottle and crosses his arms across his chest. The moose leans back in his chair and mimics Bow-legs, abandoning his beverage. Bow-legs speaks first.
"No, y'see we're just big..." He looks at the moose,"what's it called?- Twilight fans, huge Twilight fans."
The moose nods in agreement.
"Team Edward or...Jimeney?"
They pause. Moose answers, confused.
"...Jimeney?"
"Ah-hah!" You exclaim," there is no Jimeney in Twilight! You're lying!"
"Look out Sammy," Bow-legs mock whispers,"we got a Sherlock on our hands."
The moose smirks and you scowl, Bow-legs grins as he reaches for his bottle, then realises it's empty then puts it back down, suddenly not as smiley. The moose notices and slides his bottle over to Bow-legs, who nods his thanks and grins again, taking a sip.
You silently wonder if you've walked in on a honeymooning couple.
"I'll just be going then...?"
Bow-legs stumbles to the door, blocking your exit.
"Nooo," he whispers, the booze clearly taking hold,"you know too much..." He waves his now empty bottle at you, squinting as he speaks.
"Uh, Dean, let's sit you down okay?" The moose walks over to him and loops an arm around his shoulders, nearly dragging him to a chair. Moose smiles at you apologetically.
You decide to continue questioning them.
"So do you hunt vampires or what?"
"Not jusht vampires, there's all sorch of monsh-"
The moose interrupts him.
"Uh, don't listen to him," he laughs nervously then shrugs "he's just had a really long day, y'know? And he just blurts all sorts of crazy stuff when he's drunk!" He turns to Bow-legs and ruffles his hair,"dontcha Dean!"
If looks could kill the moose would be dead twice by now.
You don't believe the lying moose.
"I knew it! Can I tag along?"
"What...? No! We don't even hunt-"
"...Shut up Shammy!"
"Dean you're drunk. Stop talking."
"Aww don't be a shpoilshport," he grinned happily, then turns to you" we could alwaysh ushe someone to...uh... pack the BAGS...AND put them IN the TRUNK?" He elbowed the moose as though he'd said something mindblowingly intelligent, then promptly fell asleep on the moose's shoulder.
The moose whispered under his breath while trying to shift Bow-legs.
"Bags, And, In, Trunk?" He paused for a moment.
"Ohhhh... okay."
He turns to you, smiling warmly, while gently laying Bow-legs on a bed.
"Yeah, sure, you can come along! The more the merrier!" You begin to find his grin unsettling. "We'll just wait for old Deano here to wake up in the morning then we'll set off." Still grinning. "I'll sleep in the car or something, you can stay here and watch Dean- that okay?"
You nod, creeped out and suspicious, but crazy excited to go vampire hunting. This is finally your chance for adventure! I mean sure, you're a bit flabby around the edges so if it came down to hand to hand combat -or any kind of strenuous exercise- you're kinda screwed, but hey! It's not as if you could die if you mess up, right?
You suddenly feel far less positive about the whole ordeal.
You barely get any sleep that night, Bow-legs snores like a chainsaw and you're too pumped for tomorrow anyway. You wonder about going home and packing some clothes for the trip but decide against it- you doubt you'll be gone for long anyway. You can hear crickets outside as you drift off to sleep, dreaming of vampires and beautiful friendships to come.
A dog walker finds David Attenborough unconscious in the bushes next morning, but luckily you, the moose and Bow-legs are long gone, well on the way to saving people, hunting things, the family and friends business.