A/N: Herrick once said "There's something you need to know about Seth. He's an idiot." Don't get me wrong; I love Seth, I do. He's my favorite vampire… but he is a bit of an idiot. So here's to idiocy! Maybe I'll write some more of his idiotic excursions…we'll see. This takes place before the season 1 pilot.


"Idiot," said Herrick to himself in annoyance. The Funeral Parlor opened at nine o'clock sharp. The first appointment of the day was at nine thirty. It was now nine thirty-seven and his manager was nowhere to be found.

"Sorry, did you say something, dear?" The old lady perched on one of the antique conference chairs smiled at him expectantly.

"I'm very sorry, Mrs. Marjorie, but my manager, idiot though he is, has apparently forgotten how to tell time. I'm afraid that we'll have to reschedule your appointment." He forced his lips into a smile. "I'll show you to the door," he said, taking her frail arm gently. Seth was never late and, more importantly, his appointments never started late.

Her wrinkled face had turned into one of surprise and confusion. "But wait, what about my…"

"I'll have someone call," he said in a mock comforting voice. "Your number's on file. You have a nice day, now." He practically pushed her out the door, squinting his painfully sensitive eyes as he did so. He closed the paneled glass door to B. Edwards Funeral Parlor with a loud snap! and leaned back against it. The vampire groaned. "Of all the days to be late it has to be the one time we have a client. Figures."

With a frustrated sigh he walked to the coat rack and grabbed his trench coat and sunglasses. "Boys," he called as he pushed his arms into the sleeves, "I'm going out. Mind the shoppe!" He finished doing up the buttons and pushed the glasses onto his face. Nevertheless, he had to squint as he stepped outside. Goddamn sun. Why's it this bright at nine thirty in the morning?

Stepping out into the street he hailed a passing taxi. "Take me to 45 Wells Road, Totterdown." The cab driver nodded and punched the meter. "And step on it."


Ten minutes later they arrived at Seth's flat. Herrick pulled a wad of cash out of his pocket and shoved it into the driver's hands. "Hey, mate! Your change!"

"Keep the meter running!" shouted Herrick. He was in a hurry. They didn't have any more clients booked but he didn't want to return and find that somebody had walked into the lobby only to be greeted by a sod with blood all over his face.

The off-duty police constable stalked into the lobby and stuffed his sunglasses into his coat pocket. He jammed his finger into the lift call button and waited impatiently for a few moments before thumbing the button again. The flat manager looked up from his newspaper at the sound of the second click and shouted "Hey, buddy! The lift's down; you're gonna have to take the stairs." He pointed at the door to Herrick's left. Without bothering to respond, the vampire shoved open the door to the stairwell and began jogging up to the fourth floor. He heard a faint, sarcastic "You're welcome!" from the lobby. Honestly, I'm surprised Seth hasn't murdered him by now, thought Herrick, rolling his eyes.

He arrived on Seth's floor slightly winded. After pausing to catch his breath, the Funeral Director/copper pushed open the fire door and entered a corridor. The carpeting was peeling away from the walls, the paint was discolored and cracked, and the whole floor gave off the scent of mold. Though undetectable to humans, his increased sense of smell picked up on it immediately, causing him to choke for a second.

After growing accustomed to the stench, he pulled a sheet of note paper out of his trouser pocket and unfolded it. The number 413 was scribbled on it. Herrick's memory for numbers (and therefore his math skills) was somewhat lacking. He looked at the nearest door and continued on. 409, 410, 411, 412 ah! Here it is! His gloved fist knocked on the dented wood five times. He gave Seth a minute to respond and then tried again, louder. No answer.

He sighed frustratedly. "Seth! Come on, the birds are singing, the sun is shining, the Parlor is open and you are not there!" Still no answer. He had gone back to pounding on the door when number 412 opened with a Bang!

A flushed, corpulent man stuck his head out and shouted at the top of his lungs, "Oi! Ya ruddy wanker! Ya half any idea what time it tis? You'll wake half the buildin' with your bangin' and yellin'! So why don't ya jus' piss off?"

Herrick grinned to himself and put on his best 'I'm just trying to help' face. "Ah, my 'banging and yelling' seems to have woken everyone except my friend. Please, accept my apologies. You see, my good friend Seth, here, is late for work and his boss is going to murder him if he's not on time. So, do you by chance, have a key to his flat? I'd really rather not keep banging on his door, my hand is getting rather tender." He smiled hopefully as his rubbed his "injured" hand.

The man grumbled something about being the floor manager and his head disappeared from view. He returned a minute later with a key and shoved it into Herrick's hand. "Keep it. I'm goin' back ter bed." With a yawn he turned and trod back towards number 412.

"This means I can go in?"

"Yea, jus' keep it down, ya prick"

Threshold rule avoided. Perfect. And a key; even better. He slid it into the rusted lock and turned. The lock clicked and the door inched forward. He opened it fully with a tap of his index finger and surveyed Seth's kingdom. "How Clean is your House" would have run in terror from the flat. The paint had been peeled away in most places to reveal badly patched plaster. The carpets were mismatched and stained with what looked like a red bio-hazard. The furniture was mismatched, ranging from the 1700's to the late 1980's and in various states of disrepair. The surfaces of the coffee table and kitchen counters were littered with take away boxes from various fast food restaurants. Newspapers from the past two years were strewn across the floor and hid part of the television screen. DVDs were lying haphazardly on the floor and the sofa was completely obscured by a large lump of old socks and underwear. And I though his desk was messy; this place is a dump! And the couch-the couch is…breathing?

The blonde man strode across the doorway and studied the pile of laundry. "Yup. Definitely breathing." Looking around, he spotted a pair of cooking tongs on the coffee table and began removing layers of clothes. After a few tong-fulls he spotted a sock that was still attached to its owner's foot. Foregoing the tongs, he began digging with his gloved hands. Herrick managed to extract Seth from the mountain of garments and was now surrounded by a laundromat's worst nightmare. The resident's vampire, however, was still in dreamland.

Seth was still dressed in his suit (minus his shoes) though this was not unusual for him. I don't even think he owns a pair of pajamas. His tie was loose and there was a dry bloodstain on his collar. "At least he won't be bothering me with a hunger headache." Herrick reached and pulled one of Seth's eyelids back. The sclera was bloodshot. His suspicions were confirmed by inhaling Seth's beer breath. He held up his hands in a irritated mock surrender "Great, you won't be hungry but you'll sure as hell be hung over. You idiot."

He took hold of Seth's shoulders and shook him. "Seth, get up! It's time to rejoin the world of the…not living…" That sounded better it my head. The vampire stirred, only to make a half-hearted swipe at Herrick before attempting to return to sleep. "No, Seth, you need to get to work!" Grumbling ensued. "Fine, but you asked for it." He weaved around the mess and stepped over a pile of books to enter the kitchen. Herrick grabbed a mug lying on top of a Little Chef box and turned on the water. After some clanking water began to trickle out of the tap. Cold water in hand, he maneuvered back to the couch and promptly dumped it on Seth's slack face.

The now thoroughly drenched vampire sat bolt upright, spluttering. "Agh! What the bloody hell was that?" Herrick shoved his watch in Seth's face. He wiped his eyes with his sleeve and squinted. "Ten oh three. Shit. I'm late, aren't I?"

"Just a bit," returned Herrick sarcastically. "You missed Mrs. Marjorie's appointment. Now, how many times have I told you 'No getting drunk on work nights?'?"

"But you see, there was this girl and there was no way I was gonna get anywhere near her unless she was drunk! Come on, Herrick! I hadn't eaten in about a week!"

"God, you idiot! Why go through the bother of getting a girl drunk? We've got a whole room full of runaways to feed from!"

"Oh, you know those things we keep in the feeding room aren't good enough. It doesn't taste nearly as good when they just sit there, like they've given up. It's the fight that makes it so worthwhile."

Herrick grabbed his arm and hauled him up. "Get dressed. Now." He pushed Seth into the loo and threw a clean suit in after him. (It had been the only easy thing to find in the entire flat.)

"But Herrick! My head feels like someone's thrown me through a wall. I can't work today!"

"And whose bloody fault is that? You can work and you will. Now are you going to get changed or am I going to have to do it for you?" Seth answered with the sound of a belt hitting the tiled floor.


Ten minutes later Seth stumbled out of bathroom looking the part of B. Edwards Funeral Parlor's day manager. Except for the fact that he was sporting a crippling headache. "Do I really have to go in today, Herrick? I'm knackered and my head…"

"Coat there," he pointed to the coffee table. "Shoes there," he pointed to the kitchen counter. "Aspirin here," he held out his hand. Seth snatched the pain relievers and swallowed them while retrieving his shoes. Without waiting, Herrick strode out the door and headed for the stairwell.

The moment the two vampires set foot in the lobby, the manager strode out from behind the front desk. "Oi Seth! I've had a complaint about him," he jerked his thumb in Herrick's direction. "Heard from Mr. O'Connell that he was pounding' and hollering' at your door for a good ten minutes. Want to explain why you woke up half your neighbors at this time?"

"Em, well, you see I was…"

"Shut up, Seth," said the older of the two cheerily. "It was not early; it was nearly ten on a Wednesday. If Mr. O'Connell wasn't at work then he should have been up anyways. And I was just trying to ensure that my friend here had not done something too idiotic like gotten drunk on a work night," he looked sideways at Seth who seemed to shrink.

"I don't care whether he'd gone and loped his head off with a butter knife, you was disturbing the peace."

"Well than perhaps you'd like it I went and arrested myself, Mr... Adinolfe?" replied Herrick, glancing at the shorter man's name plate.

"Yea, that'd be great, arsehole! Just get off my property! And you," he rounded on Seth. "I'm not letting you back in until you pay up! You're nearly two weeks late on your rent!"

"Herrick sighed. This is getting old. "Seth, are you still hungry, by chance?"

Seth smiled evilly. "I can always make room…" Herrick stepped around the now confused manager and closed the curtains to prevent a passerby from interrupting. Seth blinked and his eyes became dark circles of endless hunger. He snarled at the day manager that had been plaguing him since the day he moved in. He was going to enjoy this…

The ginger haired man yelped and turned to run, trying desperately to escape, like a cornered animal. His shoes screeched across the linoleum as he skidded for the safety of his office. Seth was faster, however. While the man was running, Seth quickly crept just behind him and when the prey turned to look for his attacker, Seth turned with him so that he was staring at the back of the manager's head. "Boo," he whispered manically. Adinolfe jumped and spun around, inches from the eager vampire. He yelled, changed direction and headed towards the stairs. Seth scampered for the desk and grabbed a paperweight. He hurled the object with startling accuracy at Mr. Adinolfe. The glass prism shattered as it impacted on the head of the doomed supervisor. With blood tricking from the numerous cuts on his scalp, he dropped to the floor, stunned.

Seth took his time approaching the inferior creature. He was smiling hysterically and humming an energetic tune. The man was crawling backwards, edging closer and closer to the door. He was whispering "No, no, please, I'm sorry!" While his pleas were growing louder, Herrick was growing concerned. Someone on the first floor was bound to hear them if the manager got any louder and Seth was clearly nowhere near finished with his tormentor. Time to cut this session short, I think. "Seth, enough! Stop playing with your food and get it over with already!"

The younger vampire hissed and reluctantly hurried things along. He quickened his pace and approached the cowering man. The think streams of blood pouring from his facial wounds only excited the hunter more, making the seconds until he sank his teeth in nearly unbearable. Seth roughly jerked the man's head to the right, exposing the jugular vein. He traced it with his finger. At Seth's touch the prey yelped with sheer terror. "Somebody stop him!" Adinolfe looked desperately at Herrick. "Help me!"

Seth inched his face closer to the manager's neck. He inhaled deeply, savoring the sweet, metallic scent of human blood. "Mmm, brunch." His eyes widened and as Seth pulled his face back, opened his mouth, and forced fangs deep into his neck. He didn't have a chance to scream. Herrick's eyes flickered to black for a second before he fought down the urge to join Seth. He could grab a bite when they got back.


When all was said and done, Seth was in a better slightly better mood and had succeeded in making Herrick late for his shift. The freshly fed predator wiped the blood from his mouth and at Herrick's call followed him out of the door. They taxi was still waiting by the curb and the two vampires piled in. "Take us back to the Funeral Parlor."

"Um, yea, about that. You see, this here," he held up the wad of bills that Herrick had given him earlier. "Isn't going to cover my wait time and my shift ended fifteen minutes ago. So…" Herrick stuck his hand in his pockets and grabbed five more pounds. "Uh-uh. Not enough."

"Just go. Now."

"What? You think you're going to scare me, mate? I'm a cab driver. I've been mugged four times in the last year and driven with a gun pointed at my head twice. You're not going to intimi…"

Herrick smiled at him, eyes black and fangs bared. "You sure about that, mate?"

"Okay, I'm going; I'm going!" His voice had risen an octave to Seth's amusement. Herrick's eyes and teeth returned to normal and the three spent the remainder of the trip in silence. When the driver pulled up to the curb he got out of the car, went around to the other side and opened the back door, giving a little bow as he did. Seth, still revved up from his earlier catch, flashed the driver a "toothy" smile. The man paled and practically threw himself back into the taxi. The car drove off at breakneck speed, swerving to avoid a crossing pedestrian. As soon as the yellow cab was out of site Herrick cuffed Seth around his ear. "You sadistic idiot. He's probably dialing the coppers right now. They're going to have my head when I go in, assuming, that is, that I still have one since I'm," he glanced at his watch, "over an hour late."

Seth grumbled a half-hearted apology, rubbing his head. Herrick's "blow" had caused his throbbing hangover, previously controlled by aspirin, to return with a vengeance. The duo stood at the paneled door while Herrick dug around in his pockets. There was a sign on the door that read "Gone for lunch. Back at one." "Lunch? Boss, It's only 11:30!"

Herrick paid him no mind. After continuing to search for his keys he froze. "I, um, I seem to have forgotten my keys."

Seth smirked, still rubbing his head. "Who's the idiot now?" This earned him another cuffing.