Now, if this was Dracula, the unlikely pair would have boarded a cargo ship and Yorrick would have brought fresh blood to his new companion every day until a ghost ship drifted into Auckland harbour.  But it isn't.  If it was Preacher, Spike would have wrapped up in clothes and taken the night plane from LA and arrived just before sunrise, two days later.  But it isn't.  What we have here is a tale about a living vest and his vampire companion, so whatever you bastards are expecting from reality, forget it.


So Spike and Yorrick sat on the bonnet of the Ford and looked at the lit city of Auckland that glowed down the hill below them.  Spike was puffing contentedly on a cigarette while Yorrick slapped irritably at the multitude of mosquitoes that were drawn to his smell.
   "?"
   "Dunno mate.  Guess I'd better find a new place.  You?"
   Yorrick explained about his plan, although Spike was understandably doubtful.  But the vest had done his research, and knew exactly what he was doing.
   "Waikato?  Alright, I'll take you there.  Never know what we might find, eh?  'Sides, wouldn't mind meetin' that Xena bird, could maybe - "
   He was interrupted by a screech of brakes and a ripping noise as a car failed to make the corner, owing to a battered Ford slanted across the road.  The other car crashed through the barriers and bumped down the steep slope before coming to a sudden halt as the front disintegrated into the trunk of a rather large tree.
   "See!  Told you it'd work!"  Spike yelled jubilantly.  "Well, dinner time.  You, uh, you want a bite to eat?"
   Yorrick declined, and once Spike was out of sight he pulled out a half-eaten Mars bar he had found in the car.  The vest sat there, thoughtfully, pondering his next move.  He considered asking Spike to stay on as a translator, but having been exposed to endless hours of London punk music, he just couldn't see the advantage of the continued melting of his brain.  Besides, he had spent the hours in front of the TV productively - he was learning to speak.  It hadn't come easily, but slowly and surely he was getting there.  At first it was simple words, but now he could manage whole sentences.  Of course, he still sounded like someone with a speech impediment, but he was optimistic he could get by.
   Spike strolled back up the hill, covered in blood.  "That's better."  He declared, climbing into the car while Yorrick clambered back onto his plastic.  "Hmm.  Best one's always after a large meal."  Spike sighed, lighting a cigarette.  "#I'm all lost in the supermarket.  I can no longer shop happily.#"  He sang along to the radio, while Yorrick shook in despair.  He really didn't want Spike as a translator.


They spent the day in an underground car park.  Spike was snoring, spread out across the back seats, a half-empty gin bottle still clasped in his hand.  Yorrick had hung the coathanger from the door, and draped himself over it.  With a final snuffle he woke, and clambered down.  He was bothered by a great many things, but above all, why, if this was a comedy, wasn't it at all funny?
   "That's because these are the first few chapters - you have to set the scene, build up the tension, develop the characters."  Steven Spielberg explained from beside the car.  Yorrick wondered what he was doing there.
   "Just trying to help."  Spielberg said haughtily, turned on his heel, and fell flat on his arse having stepped on a banana skin.
   Yorrick shook his shoulders sadly.  This wasn't the way to liven things up.  He wasn't feeling too cheerful, and things weren't helped as the sound of Spike throwing up on the back seat echoed around the car.  Spike appeared, looking pale even for a vampire as he clambered into the front seat, squinting and holding his head.  He cringed visibly as Yorrick squeaked loudly.
   "Yeah, yeah, soon as it gets dark.  Dark already?  Oh, bugger.  But there's no need to be so soddin' impatient."
   "!!"
   "It's only a few miles, don't get upset."  Spike growled as he turned the key, starting the engine, and throwing up out of the window.


They arrived soon after.  Amid the bushy ferns and scary cabbage trees which made up the plant life of New Zealand ancient Greece.  Yorrick's hanky was packed, and he stepped eagerly from the car.  Spike had a definite stumble/lurch thing going.
   "Should be easy enough.  All they ever do is wander up an' down little lanes an' then stop and light a fire that anyone in 10 miles could see."  He stopped as he noticed a small campfire glowing amid the trees.  "That was easy."
   "!"
   They crept forward slowly, and as they did so, became aware of a second fire not far from the first.  Peering through the trees, they saw a pile of clothes and, reflected by the light of the flames, flashes of naked flesh.  Spike growled appreciatively and Yorrick shot him an annoyed glance.  The vest was sick of all the sex in these stories, while being even more frustrated that he never got a chance to indulge in it himself.
   Yorrick backed out of the bushes as quietly as he could, leaving Spike to enjoy himself, and made his way to the other fire.  As he neared it, he began to hear voices.
   "What are you complaining about?  I'm just the plucky comic relief."  Grumbled a leather-clad man with a shock of curly blonde hair.
   "At least you don't have the whole world sniggering about your sexual habits."  A young woman retorted, angrily poking at the fire with a long staff.
   "Don't I?  At least your partner never paraded around dressed only in an overly large bunch of grapes.
   "That's true enough."  Admitted the woman.  An uncomfortable silence followed, which Yorrick took as his cue.  Gathering his courage, he stepped into the circle of light thrown by the fire.
   "E-o.  Mai maemss O-ii-k.  Eess oo mee oo." Yorrick squeaked cheerfully, a little chirpy grin to show he was harmless.
   "Aagh!"  Screamed the pair.  "What is it?"  Aeolus cried.
   "O-ii-k."  The vest repeated.  He really needed to work on his consonants.
   "Kill the monster!"  Gabrielle yelled as she grabbed her staff and swung it towards Yorrick, who, in a fit of athletic ability (for a vest), leapt nimbly out of range.
   There followed a mad rush of activity as the two humans used every weapon at hand to chase our plucky hero, who was darting about, frantically dodging the potentially lethal blows.  He tired quickly, despairing over his total lack of success - things weren't going at all as he planned.  Yorrick was finally cornered, and he lurked quivering among the over-ground roots of a tree, just out of range of the staff and sword that sought out his delicate body.
   "Peeess!"  He squeaked desperately.  "O!"
   Aeolus put down his sword, and reached between the tree roots.  Yorrick was left with no choice, and he darted forward, giving the outstretched hand a hearty nip.
   "Aaagh!  The little bastard bit me!  What if it's got rabies?!"
   Yorrick pressed himself further back to escape from the renewed pokes and prods of both staff and sword which had begun with a new vigour.  He wondered where Spike was in his hour of need, and called out to him.
   "Sspaiiik!"  He squeaked as loudly as he could.  "Sspaiiik!  Eppp!"
   There was a moment's pause, then the vampire could be heard crashing through the undergrowth.  At the first camp, two long tussle-haired heads lifted up in alarm, then the couple began to throw on clothes.  It was a pity that they weren't the right clothes, but it isn't every day you see a half-god wearing a leather skirt.
   As the crashing neared them, Gabrielle and Aeolus looked up.  "Another one?"  Gabrielle asked looking worried, but then Spike appeared.
   It was an impressive sight.  The vampire leapt out of the bushes and over the fire.  His coat flowed out behind him, his fangs showing scarily, and he landed lightly, balancing on the balls of his feet.  Ready for action, and growling threateningly.
   It would have been more impressive if Aeolus hadn't simply stepped forward and skewered him with his sword.  He stepped back triumphantly, pulling the sword with him, and waited for his victim to crumble onto his knees, without a drop of blood, the way they always do on these shows.
   "Ow!"  Spike complained, his face returning to normal, but with a sudden offended look.
   "What kind of monster is this?"  Gabrielle asked warily, circling the vampire, staff clasped firmly in her hands.
   Spike looked dejected.  It was just another time he mourned the chip in his head.  He glared at Gabrielle and began to brush the dust from his coat.  "Alright, luv, that's enough of that."  He muttered.  "This ain't a freak show, but if you want a good look at me, be happy to oblige you later on, maybe without the audience though, eh?"  He gave her his sexiest grin.
   Before Gabrielle could utter an ancient profanity, Hercules and Xena arrived.  All three of them stared - Hercules did not look good in a skirt.  However, he didn't seem too worried about his appearance, and held up his hands in the patented Hercules 'just-calm-down-a-second' pose.  "What's going on?"  He asked.
   Aeolus and Gabrielle began to babble at once, only the words 'monster', 'fangs', 'bit' and 'wanker' seemed intelligible.
   Spike stepped forward with a big grin, looking at Xena.  "Come on, mate, here's your big chance."  He called, not taking his eyes from the hastily-dressed princess.
   "?!!"
   "Yeah, probably safe."
   There was a rustle of cotton, and Yorrick moved uncertainly into the light.  Xena and Hercules looked at the vest, looked at each other, and as the vest prepared his opening speech, collapsed in a heap, laughing hysterically.