A/N: Hello! I am back with a new fandom! I love the Boosh, so I'm trying my hand at a fic. Please review, I'd love to know what you all think! :D xxxx

Tell me this isn't happening.

Tell me that it's all a nightmare.

It can't be…

Three days previous…

Dressed in a shimmering silver jumpsuit, and a florescent blue feather boa, Vince Noir was absolutely pissed. His vision was blurred and his inhibitions were somewhere on the other side of Camden, but he could easily make out the shape of Howard Moon creeping out a cute blonde at the bar. He sighed. Why had he brought him to an indie club? Vince knew that any girl Howard chatted up tonight would end up leaving feeling thoroughly violated having only spoken to him. Even having consumed enough alcohol to fill a small bath, he could tell that this girl needed rescuing.

He began to make his languid way towards the two when somebody caught his eye. A fierce brunette with virtuous pallor danced all alone to his left. She wore a tight-fitting dress of an handsome purple, a pummelled leather jacket thrown over the top, combined with cowboy boots of a similar condition. She whipped her hair across her face in time to the music, her hips adopting the same action. She was mesmerising.

Vince stopped in the middle of the dance floor, a metre or so away from this striking beauty, Howard and the blonde completely leaving his mind. He could now see nothing but this strange girl, and the incandescent glow brought upon her by the lights in the club. She didn't care about anybody else around her, only the beat and the lights, and music pulsing through her body. Magical…

After about thirty seconds, the song ended and the girl stopped dancing, spotting Vince gazing at her from his place on the crowded dance floor. Without her hair performing a wicked dance around her head, he could now see her face fully; vivid green eyes, filled with passion and a hint of something more intense, set in a perfectly oval face with cheekbones not unlike Vince's, almost white skin clear of any blemishes, and a pair of curvy, pink lips forming a sexy smile on one side of her face at the sight of Vince's adoration.

She wasn't deathly skinny; her hips were definitely yet her body was the perfect hourglass. Her collarbones were comfortably visible, evoking no query of whether or not she was too thin. Her voice was like chocolate; soft yet tantalizing.

"Well hello there," she whispered, low and sexy. Vince's heart began to race, blood pounding in his ears. He spluttered a reply.

"H-hi. You're a brilliant dancer," he breathed, grinning at her as his confidence gathered strength. She glanced at the floor, though not in a shy way - in a way that showed off the sheer length of her ebony eyelashes. She took a step forward, bringing her close enough to Vince that her hand lightly brushed again his. Vince felt a rushed of electricity course through him at her touch. He's never felt this way before…

"What's your name?" she asked, seemingly as interested in him as he was her. But not in the same way. Vince felt like a slave to a glorious goddess adorned in furs. He felt a desire within himself much unlike anything he's felt before, something deep in the pit of his soul that drew him to this beauty. But she felt drawn to him like a starving child is drawn to a loaf of thick, hot bread. Her feeling towards him was far more superficial. She felt a carnal need stir within her. She wanted him, like nothing she'd wanted before. She could almost see his blood pounding in his wrists, his neck, his every crevice.

"Vince. Yours?" he breathed, the words caressing her ear like a feather. She grinned.

"Mmm, nice name. I'm Octavia. Now, Vince," she said. "What would you say if I asked you to leave here with me? Go somewhere more private?"

Vince's body flooded with heat. "I'd have to go with you." So, grabbing his hand, Octavia led Vince from the crowded club, leaving Howard alone to roam around, freaking out a few more women.

The place Octavia led him to was quite the opposite of what he expected. He left believing he was to be escorted by this rock star beauty to a punked-up flat in the middle of Camden. His mistake. She took a left a few streets from the club to a dingy alleyway, filled with grimy posters and huge bins.

"Here should do," she giggled. Vince was hesitant.

"Won't someone see us?" he asked, not sure if this was worth it anymore. Octavia shot a winning smile at him.

"Not if we're careful." She grabbed him by the boa, and pulled him towards her, up against a filthy brick wall. His hands roamed her body, his lips hard on his. Her breath tasted like cherries, her skin just as silky as he expected. Her lips wandered to his neck, tongue lightly caressing his skin. He was lost in her scent, her lips, her very aura. But the mood was about to change very abruptly, because suddenly he felt a sharp pinch against his skin, then the much deeper push of something sharp entering his neck. A howl escaped his mouth as the magic of their kissing was lost, and in it's place came a world of pain. He felt something warm trickling down his neck, his back. She pulled her head back, her lips stained crimson with his blood. Serrated fangs replaced her pearly teeth, her eyes no longer green, but a dramatic purple to match her dress. What is going on? Vince asked himself, barely able to make sense of this sudden change in events.

Vince felt weak. Grabbing the wall behind her, he felt his legs begin to give way. His entire body felt like it was being drained of all moisture, all energy, all life. Maybe it was the blood loss, maybe it was the shock of what was happening to him, but Vince felt as if all the colour in his world was bleeding away, like he had never experienced the brightness of this strange woman's eyes, or the vibrant glow of Camden Town. Everything was draining, draining, draining…