I know, I know, I'm supposed to be working on 'In Dog We Trust', but this little plot bunny just hopped right into the meeting I'm trapped in - I hope nobody else saw it - and boinged up onto my lap. So I thought I'd better expunge it...
DiSCLAIMER: Not mine, any of 'em - if they were, I'd hire them out by the hour.
TITLE: Monkey Business.
RATING: K. Really. I, er, excrement you not.
SUMMARY: Knowledge equals power. When the an occult epidemic strikes, it's up to the guy working behind the scenes, the ones who know where to find the lore, to take the lead.
BLAME: For the Denizens who love them a bit of crossover.
He was in his element, having done this a thousand times before, but he never dropped his guard for a moment, because even for an adept of long practice, it was a dangerous place to be, and in this job, mistakes could get you killed. Or worse.
He was looking for something. Hunting. He just had to find it. The regular authorities wouldn't possibly understand, and if they did, they would pretend they didn't. That's what he and his kind were for, dealing with the things that the authorities couldn't. And if the did understand, they wouldn't want to...
He moved silently, something that might look, to the casual observer, impossible due to his size, but he managed it effortlessly. A useful capacity, when a job – and your life – might depend on it.
He listened carefully; the strangely still air carried few clues as to which way was where, but he'd done this before. There it was, the merest stirring of the dust motes, the tiniest of disturbances that untrained ears would never have detected. He moved closer, arriving at a shelf of large, dusty, and decidedly unwelcoming-looking books.
Then he heard it.
"Not that one, ya idjit!"
He pushed aside a heavy tome – it snarled at him, but he bared his teeth back, never showing fear or hesitation, because they could smell it – and pulled himself through...
...oooooOOOOOooooo... ...oooooOOOOOooooo... ...oooooOOOOOooooo...
"It might look as occult as hell, but it's actually great-Grandma Singer's cookery journal," Bobby went on, burrowing further into one of the innumerable pile of books, "The other blue one, with the orobus on the fly sheet..."
He stopped, and straightened up as he heard the bickering behind him come to a ragged halt.
"Um," said Sam.
"Wsfgl?" said Dean.
"Ah, good to see you again," smiled Bobby, as the large orange-haired primate hauled himself out from between the books and dropped heavily to the floor, "How's your dragon problem?"
"Ook," the creature assured him. "Ook ook."
"Damned good thing, too," the old Hunter shook his head.
The animal knuckled over to Dean, and knocked gently on his sternum. "Ook?"
"Oh, don't mind them," Bobby waved a hand dismissively at the Winchesters, "They're just here lookin' for information. It's what libraries are for, right?"
"Ook," went the Librarian doubtfully. He was of the old school, that suggested that students should love books, and revere and worship them, but that didn't mean you had to let the grubby individuals actually read them...
"Bobby," Dean began slowly, "Bobby, do you often have a monkey climb out of your bookshelves?"
"Oh, dear," muttered Bobby.
"Eeeeeeek!" screeched the Librarian. Before he could begin his customary ritual of education, which usually involved leaping onto someone's shoulders and trying to twist their head off, Sam sniped at his brother disdainfully.
"Dean, he's not a monkey!" he snapped, "Orangs are apes! The difference is huge! Taxonomically they both belong to the Suborder Haplorrhini, but they diverge in anatomy, demographics, locomotion, brain structure..."
"Ook," smiled the Librarian, reaching up to pat Sam on the head. He offered the younger Winchester a banana from the bag slung over one shoulder.
"Boys," Bobby cut in, "This is the Librarian, another fellow traveller on the road of knowledge, with a keen interest in the occult, and protection of his city against the Dungeon Dimensions, and assorted other unpleasantnesses. Fuglies not givin' you too much grief, I hope?" he added politely.
"Ook. Ook ook ook," the Librarian replied, managing to indicate that it was business as usual for an overworked and underappreciated academic. Bobby nodded in understanding.
"So, what's he doing here?" asked Dean warily, as Sam peeled the banana and bit into it.
"What do you think a Librarian is doing here?" Bobby rolled his eyes, "He's looking for a book! So, which one are you after?"
"Ook ook ook ook eeek ook," explained the Librarian.
"You have gargoyles where you come from?" asked Sam.
"You understood that?" Dean's eyes bugged.
"Yeah, didn't you?" Sam queried. He looked at the fruit he was eating. "Maybe it's in the banana," he postulated, "You want some?"
"It's some herbivorous geek Esperanto," muttered Dean.
"Actually, I do have a book that might be useful," Bobby nodded, moving a chair to stand on it, "Although I gotta tell ya, I wasn't inclined to believe that gargoyles can actually catch colds. How many of them have it?"
"Ook ook ook ooook ook," the Librarian elaborated.
"Hmmmm. Well, quarantine is probably no use, by now. Not that they move around much, anyway." Bobby pulled a book down from the shelf, and handed it to the orang-utan, who took it carefully. "Oh, if you'd be so kind, you could deliver a couple of things for me," he went on, fetching two envelopes from the desk. "This one is for Mustrum, I think he'll have more luck with the Obstreperous Salmon if he tries these flies."
"Who's Mustrum?" asked Sam, finishing his banana.
"Another grumpy old man who has to deal with more idjits than is good for him," replied Bobby.
Sam glanced at the envelopes as the Librarian took them. The other was addressed to SGT A.von Uberwald, CityWatch, in what he recognised as Ronnie Shepherd's careful cursive. He cocked an eyebrow at Bobby.
"Penpals," the older man shrugged, "And professional wimmen networkin'. This is the Century of the Anchovy, after all." Bobby turned back to the Librarian. "I don't suppose you want to stay for a banana daiquiri, if you got an epidemic of sick gargoyles to deal with?" he sighed. The Librarian shook his head regretfully. "That's a pity. It's just not fair, is it, we never seem to have time to just put work on hold for a moment, and just have a conversation..."
The Librarian patted him sympathetically on the shoulder. It was ever thus for the wise men who kept things running in the background.
"He's from... another dimension?" breathed Sam incredulously. "This is amazing! Where are you from, Mr Librarian? How did you get here? Can we go with you?"
"OOK!" said the Librarian firmly.
"Absolutely not!" declared Bobby equally firmly. "L-Space is no place for an amateur. The grimoires would eat you for breakfast."
"Books," Sam mused, "It's the books, isn't it? They do... something. All that knowledge. Knowledge equals power. It does... something..."
"Ook ook," smiled the Librarian approvingly, managing to convey the sentiment that the boy showed promise, and if Bobby wanted to apprentice him, the Librarian could always use another assistant, what with the current one being so geographically unpredictable, and he had such long arms and legs he could almost be an honorary orang-utan.
"Nah," grinned Bobby, "The boy has a job to do here. Besides which, these two come as a matched pair. You'd have to take him, too."
The Librarian looked Dean up and down, and changed his mind. The ignorant one had 'Watch Material' written all over him, and the Librarian was familiar with the sort of mayhem that usually followed any time the Law set foot in his library.
"Take care," Bobby waved as the smiling ape pushed aside a large book, and climbed back through with a wave and a cheerful parting "Ook!"
"Wow," sighed Sam, as the primate disappeared through the shelves, "Just... wow."
"I gotta lay off the tequila," muttered Dean. "I'm hallucinating. Seriously, I just thought I saw monkey climb out of your book shelves, Bobby, and..."
A long, hairy red arm emerged from between the tomes, and slapped Dean upside the head.
Then he slipped over on Sam's banana peel. And Bobby called him 'idjit'.
All in all, it just served to remind Dean why he hated libraries and the primates who ran them.
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