Hiding fandom in the underwear drawer since 1977

So,irishsongbird , wingedflight21 , and metonomia (once she gets on Twitter) thought this would be a good idea. 

Crack! Commentfic!  Dean, Sam, Doctor 10, Donna (and I really think Jack might work too), and Vampires on Venice Beach that, we can assume, are not really vampires. 

As I don't actually watch SPN, this is a best guess.  Yes not only do I read fic for shows I don't watch, I am now writing it (sort of).


“It’s great to be back in California,” Sam says. 

“Can’t get a decent burger and everyone is plugged into their own world with their ass hanging out,” Dean mutters.

“Damned right,” Sam says.  “It’s Venice Beach!”

“With a vampires feeding off the local winos under the pier,” Dean replies, opening the trunk of the Impala for a check on supplies.

They both hear it at the same time, a wheezing, groaning, vworp, vworp.  Sam grabs the sawed off shot gun, thinking a moment later that brandishing such a thing around the LAPD is probably not a great decision.  Dean snatches a knife, slams the trunk shut and they both look around. 

A big blue box, like an old phone booth, with a flashing light on the top, materializes not 20 feet away on the Venice beach bike path.  A blond (they are all blond in California) in a bikini smaller than her iPod jogs casually around the box, as if she does not even see it.  Maybe, Sam thinks, she actually doesn’t see it?  But they do.

Dean opens his mouth and shuts it again as the door to the box swings open and a middle aged, red headed women steps out.  She’s in a green sundress, wearing giant sunglasses, and a big hat with yellow flowers.  She's acting like it’s the most normal thing in the world to step out of a phone booth on to the pier of Venice Beach. 

“Oi!  Doctor, now this is better!  No snow and we’re not floating in the ocean.  Do you have any sunblock?”  She’s English and has a brassy voice to match her whole way of going.

“Sunblock?” a male voice, also English but sounding like someone from PBS, calls from inside the box.  “How should I know, Donna?  Ask the TARDIS and she’ll mix some up for you straight off in the infirmary.”

“Bigger on the inside than the outside?” Sam asks referring to the tiny box that holds two people, a hospital, and something called a TARDIS that makes SPF 50 sunscreen to order.

Dean shrugs and takes a tighter grip on the shotgun. 

Donna looks back inside the door.  “You are going to wear a suit and trainers to the seaside?”

“I’ve not exposed my legs to a sun in over 200 years,” the Doctor says.