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This is a work of fan-fiction. It was written for entertainment purposes only. It is not intended to infringe on any of the copyrights held by the various TV shows represented in it.

For those of you who are looking for something to upset yourself with? Find something else, something more noble and worthy of your fury like.. oh, perhaps the plight of baby fruit flies from Africa. Don't bother to write me with all your outrages, with long letters telling me how Captain Kirk never would have done such and such... etc. It's a spoof. You're not suppose to take it seriously!

However... constructive critism is welcomed as well as compliments.

When Worlds Collapse

Licking his fingers, Vincent finished the last bite of pizza and closed the box. It was so nice, being able to have junk food, once in awhile, now that he had discovered that Domino's did deliver anywhere. Of course, he still had to keep his identity a secret, so when he'd called he'd simply told them his name was Michelangelo.

His thoughts were interrupted by a beeping noise, coming from inside one of his pockets. Catherine was coming down. Everyone down in the tunnels was amazed by Vincent's empathic link to Catherine, his ability to always find her. He didn't have the heart to tell them that yes, he did know what she was feeling, but he'd have about as much chance of finding her in these terrible predicaments the girl always got herself into as he would of finding a needle in a haystack. So he'd "borrowed" a tracing devise from the man from U.N.C.L.E., had it hooked to Catherine's biorhythms and had the beeper tuned to such a high frequency that only he could hear it. The device worked like a charm, except that sometimes when he ran down the streets looking for Catherine, every cat in New York City would begin to howl. Oh well, that was the price you paid for love. And the sound engineers could always edit the howling out.

Shoving the pizza box under his bed, Vincent relaxed, trying to look as nonchalant as possible, waiting for Catherine to enter. He grabbed a book, opened it, and lay down on the bed.

Catherine entered the room. She looked at Vincent, casually lounging on the bed and sighed. "Vincent, you sensed me coming and you could feel my worry. You shouldn't be relaxing, you should be pacing about, looking agitated."

I'm sorry, I forgot." Leaping from the bed, Vincent began pacing the room in long, agitated strides. "Catherine, I could feel that you are worried. Please, tell me what is wrong!" He stopped, holding his arms out to her. "Is this better?"

Much." She came over and threw her arms around him. "Oh, Vincent, I have to go away!"

He put his arms around her, stroking her hair, secretly kissing the top of her head, thinking take that, you CBS censors! "Oh, Catherine, where are you going?"

"Collinsport Maine," she replied, kissing his chest. Take that, you censors! she thought.

"Why?" Vincent asked, his voice trembling with worry. "Is it because of your job with the D.A.'s office?"

"No, something much worse." She looked up at him.

"What?" he asked, afraid for her.

"It's a plot device."

Pulling away from her, Vincent brought his hand to his forehead, in a despairing gesture. "Oh, why is it that the Networks always conspire to keep lovers apart?"


"Barnabas?" Willie called out, as he walked into the door of the old house. "Barnabas, are you around?" He knew that the chances of the vampire being able to hear him were nil, after all, it was high noon, and Barnabas was safely hidden away in the basement but he called out anyway. It was one of his rather cute, but mildly annoying habits. In his hand, he clutched a note that had been left for his employer that morning. Willie had opened it and read it, not because he particularly cared to read his employer's personal mail, but because he still had this reputation as a shifty, disreputable character to uphold.

"Oh geesh," Willie muttered, talking to himself and twisting his hands nervously. "B-B-Barnabas isn't going to like this, not one bit."

"What am I not going to like?" Barnabas said, walking into the hallway and almost giving poor Jim F--er, um, Willie a heart attack.

Oh, holy sh..." Willie began, before remembering that this was prime time. "B-B-B-B-B-" he said, unable to get the word out.

"Oh damn, not again," Barnabas walked over and slapped Willie on the back. "Willie you're stuck again!"

Willie coughed loudly, trying to recover from his shock. "Barnabas, it's noon! What are you doing, up?"

"Sun screen," Barnabas said, giving a small smile, which lit up his eyes and made him look even more sexy than normal. A waste since there was not a woman in sight. "I tried a little ultimate protection. It works wonders."

Willie shook his head, unable to quite believe what he was hearing. "G-G-Gee, that's great, B-Barnabas."

"Yes it is." Barnabas left the hallway, walking into the parlor, Willie hot on his heals. "So, what were you saying that I was going to be upset about?"

"Oh!" Willie reached into his pocket and pulled out a rather worn, dirty looking envelope. "Th-this was t-tacked to th-the door this morning." Then, because he had a natural gift for stating the obvious, Willie added, "It's addressed to you."

Barnabas looked at it. "Willie! This has been opened! Did you read it?"

"Of course," Willie looked confused.

"But why..." the vampire began, then nodded. "Oh yes, you have this reputation as a shifty disreputable character to uphold. Sorry, I forgot." He pulled the note out of the envelope and began reading it.

"That's okay." Willie twisted his hands nervously, waiting for his boss to read the note. He pulled a lollipop out of his pocket and stuck it in his mouth, wishing it was a huge reefer. But no, it was the nineties and drugs just weren't cool anymore.

Barnabas finished reading the note, an angry scowl coming over his face. "I don't believe this!"

"I know!" Willie agreed. "Why do you think..."

"Willie!" Barnabas interrupted. "You are the voice of the audience! Please state your comments in question form and explain what's going on."

"Oh, I'm sorry." He straightened up and gave Barnabas a concerned look. "Why do you suppose Vicky left? The note didn't explain much, it only said she was leaving Collinsport, because her mother was sick. I thought that was a little odd, her being an orphan. Why would she want to leave you, Barnabas? Didn't she like it here? Didn't she like you?"

Barnabas walked over to the fireplace, crumpling the note in his hands, an expression of pain on his face. "I think it was something much worse," he said, looking for all the world like a tragic, brooding, figure.


He swallowed, waiting for the right amount of time to pass so his words would have the biggest dramatic effect. "Ratings, Willie. She left because she knew the rating weren't good."

"Do you really think so?" Willie asked.

"Well, either that or we're the victims of a plot device." Barnabas shook his head, sadly. "Well, I suppose I'll have to go and find some other woman to love, who reminds me of Josette."

That shouldn't be hard, Willie thought. Every woman in the world somehow reminds you of Josette. But he merely nodded, trying to muster up some sympathy for his boss. He really had to hand it to the vampire, he had tragic brooding down to an art form. And obviously, that was the key to getting all the babes.


Far above the earth and many, many years in the future, the Starship Enterprise traveled peacefully through the vast cosmos, heading back to the earth. Everyone aboard the ship was looking forward to having a great vacation before they'd all have to start filming the next movie.

"Star date...." Captain Kirk began, then stopped. For the life of him, he couldn't remember the damn date! It was so frustrating when that happened. Oh, sure, he could ask Spock or any of the other crew members, they would know it, and give it to him in a moment. But it was so darned embarrassing. Being captain of the Enterprise and being unable to remember something as trivial as the date. It would also make people wonder if he was loosing it.

He looked out the view screen, trying to cover up his mistake. "Oh, what's that?" he exclaimed, pointing. Everyone looked for a moment, saw nothing, and looked at him expectantly. "I thought I saw something..." He shrugged, giving everyone his most sincere, aren't-I-a-charismatic-type-of-guy smile. Everyone went back to what they were doing. He started the Captain's Log again. "Captain's log, Star date," not pausing for a moment, he coughed, mumbling something that might sound like a date, then again, it might not.

"...After one hell of a long movie, we're finally headed home," he continued.

"Captain!" Uhura interrupted, looking puzzled and alarmed. "I'm getting a message from Star base."

"Put it on the view screen," Kirk suggested, trying not to sound like a kindergarten teacher. God, some days it was so difficult to be captain of a ship where no one had an original thought. There were days when he was afraid he'd have to start telling them to breathe.

"Yes, Captain."

I'll be glad when all of this is over and I can fulfill my dreams of being a big time Science Fiction writer! the captain though.

The message came over the view screen, delivered by one of the top TIP's (Terribly Important Person) Just in case, you didn't know who he was on the spot, he was wearing a very impressive looking uniform with insignia's and shiny metal type things all over the place. In the back ground were a the usual VCPRAP (Very Confused People Running Around Panicing) Kirk and the, the other members of the crew, listened intently.

"Please, do not approach earth!" the TIP was saying. "We've been invaded by some deadly disease that's killing everyone. Even lawyers are dying from this!" He had to pause for a moment, while all the VCPRAP's stopped to cheer. "We can't find a cure for this illness. It's deadly! and wicked contagious....

"Wicked?" Kirk gave Spock a puzzled look.

"Perhaps he's from Massachusetts?" Spock offered.

"...The earth is quarantined," the TIP continued. "No one is allowed on or off the planet. We are doomed. Stay away." He began to sweat, as the people running around behind him were doing less running around and more vomiting and falling. He started to say something else, then had to stop because he decided to join the crowd and do some vomiting and falling of his own. The view screen filled with snow, made some very annoying, ear splitting, screeching noises and zipped out to black.

Kirk turned and looked at Spock. "Can you..."

"Try to patch into the computers on earth and find out the details on this disease," Spock finished for him. "I'm already working on that, Captain."

Well goody for you! Kirk thought, secretly despising it when the Vulcan managed to out think him. "We're pretty far away from the earth, Spock. Will you be able to do this?"

"If it's necessary for the plot, I will be."

"True." Kirk nodded.

A few moments later, Spock had the information. "The TIP was right, Captain. This is a very serious illness. Very deadly. I'm running all the information through the ship's computer to see if it can recognize the symptoms, match it to another disease, past or present, and come up with a cure."

Everyone waited, looking at the Science Officer with great interest. If this had been TV, it would have been a great spot for a commercial.

After several minutes and lots of quiet little bleeping and blipping noises from the computer, along with a fantastic display of lights flashing in all sorts of interesting and random patters, Spock turned around and looked at the Captain. "This disease appears to be the flu."

"The flu?" Kirk was puzzled. He'd heard of the flu, everyone had. But the flu had been wiped out eons ago. And before it was wiped out, it was hardly deadly. "People are dying from the flu?"

"Yes, Captain."

"But the flu isn't deadly..." Kirk began, only to be interrupted by the Vulcan;

"The flu was eliminated hundreds of years ago. No one's immunity system is designed to handle it anymore. Therefore, it's re-emergence is deadly."

"But there was a cure discovered for it, wasn't there?"

"No. It was eliminated by means of vaccinations. Much like smallpox. But the computer has analyzed all aspects of this flu and is coming up with a cure on it's own." Spock turned around, just as as the computer was spitting out the cure. It was a beautiful display of timing that no one would ever see in real life. Aboard the ship though, it was old hat and no one even noticed.

Spock read the print out. "Hm...interesting."

Kirk scowled, knowing the Vulcan was deliberately making these comments so he would be forced to ask questions. "What does it say?"

"One of the essential ingredients needed is the blood of a vampire."

"The blood of a vampire?" Kirk shook his head, disbelieving what he was hearing. "That's got to be the most ridiculous things I've ever heard!"

Everyone on the ship looked at him. Was the blood of a vampire really any sillier than most of the other things the crew had seen over the years? Spock looked at him. "I do feel that this is obviously a deliberately bad plot twist, but never-the-less, that is what the computer said."

As usual, the Science Office was right. Kirk sighed. "I suppose we have to go and find some vampire now and get his blood. Where do we find one?"

Spock hesitated, knowing the captain would not like what he had to say. "The last known vampire was around in..."

"Let me guess," Kirk interrupted, cringing. "The late, twentieth century."

"Yes, Jim."

"Damn!" Kirk smacked his head down on the arm of the captain's chair. "I hate the late twentieth century! Everyone is so pushy, so ignorant! It's harder for me to get a date!"

But you still manage to get one, Sulu thought to himself. You always get the babes.

Everyone on the ship waited while the captain lost his temper. After awhile, he just stopped and looked miserable. "Well, Spock, any suggestions on how we go back? I don't want to try that trick we did the last time. I didn't like those heads floating around in the clouds."

"This time, Captain, it will be much simpler." Standing away from the computer, Spock grinned.

"Spock, why are you grinning?" Kirk asked.

"Because we're being controlled by an amateur writer who knows next to zip about Star Trek," Spock explained, his grin changing back to it's usual unemotional mask. "Now, may I continue?"

"Please do."

"The way we get back is simple. Why, it's just a jump to the left..." as he spoke, he demonstrated.

Uhura leaped up, as soon as the Vulcan finished. "And then a step to the right!" she called out, stepping to the right as the Captain whirled around to see her.

"With your hands on your hips!" Scottie shouted, also demonstrating.

Chekoff was next. "You bring your knees in tight!"

Followed by Sulu... "But it's the pelvic thrust,"

Dr. McCoy chipped in, "That really drives you insay-ay-ay-ay-aine!"

Then, the entire crew began throwing their arms around, singing in unison, "Let's do the Time Warp Again!"


She was getting off the train when he first saw her. A vision of loveliness, struggling with her four pieces of matching Samsonite luggage. Barnabas was struck breathless (not that it mattered, since vampires don't breath) by her warmth, her courage. He knew, she would change his life forever.

"Damn this luggage!" this vision of loveliness was snarling. "Aren't there any porters around here?" She struggled, trying to hold onto her overnight case, while still carrying the zipper bag.

Recognizing this as a perfect opportunity to meet her, impress her, and check out her jugular vein at close range, Barnabas walked up to her. "Could I be of some assistance?" he offered.

She looked at him, his pants perfectly creased, his trench coat tailored to fit him like a glove, his hair perfectly combed and styled. "Are you the porter?"

"Why no," With an ease that only comes naturally to vampires, ballet dancers, and television idols, Barnabas took her luggage from her. "Please, allow me to introduce myself; I am Barnabas Collins."

She looked at him, a small smile playing on her lips. He was a good looking man, an asset to have on your arm at any party. And the way he was handling her luggage, he was obviously strong. "Why, it's nice to meet you, Mr. Collins. I'm Catherine Chandler."

Shifting her luggage again, so he was holding it all with one arm, he took her hand and kissed it. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

"It's a pleasure to meet you too," Catherine cooed. There was something about a man that could handle four pieces of luggage at once, that just brought out the girl in her.

"So," Barnabas shifted the overnight bag and the large suitcase to his free arm. "What brings you to Collinsport?"

"Well, I had a choice between Connecticut and Maine. I chose Maine. It seemed to be better for plot development." Catherine looked around her. "So, is there a hotel around here?"

It was then that Barnabas knew that their meeting was meant to be. If she had arrived a week ago, he would have been able to recommend the Collinsport Inn, but last Saturday, David had burned it down. Sometimes it was so convenient to have an insane pyromaniac child in the family! Now he'd have to do the gentlemanly thing and invite her to stay with him. Barnabas knew he'd have to thank David one of these days. He'd have to thank Willie too, for giving David that lighter for his last birthday.

He looked at her and tried to look remorseful and sad, although what he really wanted to do was break out cheering. "I'm terribly sorry, Miss..."

"That's Ms.," Catherine interrupted.

"I'm terribly sorry, Ms. Chandler, but the only inn in Collinsport is no longer open. There was a terrible fire last week."

"Oh no!" Catherine wailed. "What am I going to do?"

"Well, normally I wouldn't suggest this, but seeing as how the weather is so bad..."

"Huh?" Catherine interrupted. The night sky was clear and peppered with stars.

Barnabas looked up at the sky, inwardly cursing the special effects people. "As I was saying," he began, speaking much louder now, "Seeing as how the weather is so bad..."

Suddenly, lighting cracked across the sky, followed by a loud boom of thunder. Within seconds, there was a torrential downpour of rain, instantly soaking the both of them. That's better! Barnabas thought, before continuing, still speaking loud, but now to be heard above the rain, "...I would feel just terrible, leaving you here."

"I'd feel pretty terrible about that myself," Catherine agreed, also yelling above the bursts of thunder.

"I think the only thing to do would be to invite you to stay at my place!" Barnabas shouted. A crack of lightning followed his worlds, hitting a small tree about a hundred feet from them and bursting into flames. Flames which were soon put out by the pouring rain.

Catherine looked at the fried tree and back at Barnabas. Slowly, she nodded.


Down in the tunnels, Vincent paced nervously. He knew Catherine was in trouble. He could sense it, he could feel it. Also, she'd been out of danger for just too long. But she was up in Collinsport Maine. What could he do? I have to go to her, I have to find her! he thought to himself. But I can't. I can't even go to the corner store for a loaf of bread, how am I going to go to Collinsport Maine?

He sat down on his bed, cursing his fate, wishing he could do something, anything. Then, it happened. He lost consciousness. But his body still sat on the bed. There was a minor shimmering of light, compliments of the special effects people, who'd been rudely woken up, and suddenly, Vincent looked perplexed. Only it wasn't really Vincent.

"Oh no, not again!" Vincent's body moaned. He stood up. "Al! Al, are you around here?"

Al appeared. "Wow, Sam, this is incredible."

"Al, why am I in this body again? I never leap into the same body more than once."

"Never on the show," Al agreed. "But I have a funny feeling you're the victim of a frustrated zine writer's fantasy again."

"Oh wonderful," Sam groaned. "What do I have to do now? Save Catherine from Gabriel again?"

Al punched some buttons on the hand held unit that looked an awful lot like a Radio Shack calculator. "No, according to Ziggy, Gabriel isn't the problem this time."

"Then what is?"

Al punched the calculator some more. "Well, it seems that Catherine has gone away..." he stared at the screen. "She's gone to Maine." His face drained of color. He looked at Sam. "In two days, she'll be found drained of all her blood. She'll be dead. Then later, she'll come back as a vampire."

Sam/Vincent/whatshisface's eyes widdened. "Catherine a vampire? No, we can't let that happen. That might be... interesting."


"Accuse me not, beseech thee, that I wear
Too calm and sad a face in front of thine;
For we two look two ways, and cannot shine..."

Catherine stifled a yawn as she watched Barnabas standing before the fireplace, quoting poetry. Why does this happen to me? she wondered. Why don't I ever meet men that ever want to do anything but read poetry to me and treat me like the supreme virgin? Why can't I ever meet a normal man who thinks with his hormones? For this, I could have stayed in New York! Forcing herself to smile, she stood up. "Very good," she said, interrupting Barnabas. "Elizabeth Barrett Browning. She's one of my favorite poets."

Barnabas looked at her and gave her one of his most charming smiles. "I'm so glad you enjoyed it. I know a lot of other poetry, perhaps I could...."

Shut up and jump my bones, Catherine thought. "Er, I don't think that's necessary," she said. She didn't want to be rude and interrupt, but she'd had enough of this. "I think I've heard all the poetry I need to for one night." For one lifetime!

"Well then..." Barnabas looked at her, shifting nervously. The way she had her hair brushed back behind her shoulder, he could see the vein in her neck pulsing. At that moment, she looked exactly like Josette. Well, not really, but close enough.

Catherine could see the hunger in his eyes. She could hear it in his voice. The problem was that it had been so long since she'd really seen a man staring at her with raw lust that she'd forgotten what it was like and therefore asked, "Is something wrong?"

"No, nothing is's just that you...remind me of someone."


"Her name was Josette."

What a corny name. "Why do I remind you of her?"

Because every damn female I meet does. Barnabas thought. "Because you look so much like her."

"I do?" Her expression was skeptical.

"You do." He offered her his hand. "Come, I'll show you a picture of her."

They went up the stairs and into the sacred shrine to Josette. With an exaggerated motion, Barnabas pointed to the portrait. "See? There she is, the one true love of my ancestor, Barnabas Collins. I was named after him, you know."

"I never would have guessed." Catherine responded dryly before turning to the picture of the woman.

She had to admit, the subject of the portrait looked exactly like her. This is incredible! She stepped forward to take a closer look and frowned. "I think I know why it looks exactly like me."

"Why?" Barnabas asked.

"Because someone has taken a photograph of my face and imposed it onto this picture."

"Well the prop people didn't have a whole lot of time," Barnabas explained.

Catherine stared at the picture and shivered. "What does this all mean?"

"That we're destined to be together." Barnabas moved closer and put his hand on her shoulder. "For all eternity."

"For all eternity?" Catherine repeated.

"Well, or at least until the show is canceled."

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