DISCLAIMER: I don't own the plot or dialogue of "Crush" (or any other phrases that seem familiar). I also don't own the characters. But can you imagine if I did? Two gorgeous vampires lying in wait in my bed...Hell! Let's pretend I'm bi for a teensy sec...Four gorgeous vampires lying in wait in my bed...yum...Okay, sorry, I'm back. Joss, ME, and all the other brilliant gods we worship own it all...I just fantasize and type.

PAIRINGS: FFFF (Fanged Four Family Fun)--S/Dru, A(us)/D, S/D, S/A(us), A(us)/Dru, D/Dru and any combination of the above (that means orgies, people, so if you're not comfortable with that--well, ask yourself why not because, in all honesty, you may need a doctor).

RATING: NC17

WARNINGS: sex, BDSM, bloodplay, het, slash, femslash, some violence and course language, and character death (none of the Fanged Four die...again...don't worry)

SUMMARY: What if Harmony's fingers had slipped on her crossbow in "Crush" and her arrow hit Buffy instead of Spike? This story starts off as Spike/Dru, but will soon develop into a Fanged Four reunion piece (a completely plausible one, or so I hope).

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I am open to a wide variety of pairings--it all depends on what mood I'm in. One of my all time favorites, if not my absolute favorite, is FFFF. I also firmly believe that Drusilla is the best match Spike has ever had, and will be until the glorious day when the walls between realities shift and Spike meets me. But in the mean time, I just want him to be happy. Whenever I watch "Crush"--one of my all-time favorite episodes--I always want Spike to end up with Dru. He would be so much happier! I finally decided I couldn't take it any more--I had to change the ending. The bit between the lines of *** at the beginning of this story is just the transcript of the scene from "Crush" that I'm so politely interrupting (thanks, buffyworld.com!). Feel free to skip that if you already know all the dialogue (don't be ashamed--I do, too). I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I am enjoying writing it! Thanks to all my dear Betas: G.I.A.T.W.T. (Glee, In All The Wrong Things),Cold-blooded Jelly Donut, and Tragedy Beckons for your encouragement!

DISTRIBUTION: Want. Take. Have. Just please be sure to let me know so I can have a happy!

FEEDBACK: Please is not a strong enough word! This is my first fic ever, so I need the support to keep me going. I have been an avid BtVS and AtS fanfic reader for a few years now and have always wanted to write something. Now I finally am, and I want to make sure everything is completely canonical, in character, and 100% believable (redundant, I know, but I wanted to clarify). All it takes is a quick email to vampirevixonbtvs@yahoo.com and I'll love you forever!

"Are you telling me I have to wear a bloody wig?"

"Darla, I have to say, I'm nearly speechless. Your idea is brilliant. It may be a bit complex, but I assure you, Wolfram and Hart is up for the challenge."

"I should hope so. This needs to go perfectly."

"Oh, it will Darla. You've got the entire firm's assistance behind you."

"Are you telling me I have to wear a bloody wig?"

"Everyone's singing inside my head! Such beautiful songs...the little birdies all say his soul will fly away forever," Drusilla spun in the middle of Lilah's office in glee as she spoke. Then she stopped, glided over to Darla, and stroked the blonde's cheek with her index finger. "My baby has thought of the perfect plan."

Darla leaned slightly into the caress, but her words were firm. "Let's just hope the birdies aren't lying, Dru. And, you have to stop calling me your baby. We can't have you slip up in front of Angel, now can we?"

"I'm sorry...grandmum. I'll remember."

"That's a good girl."

Lilah watched the interaction between the two women, their faces mere inches apart, and wondered at the sensation of her own mouth going dry.

"Are you telling me I have to wear a bloody wig?" Spike asked quite loudly in a huff.

"It's not like you'll be the only one. The layered look wasn't exactly all the rage between 1880 and 1898." Darla fingered her own shoulder length tresses.

"That's another thing. Can we at least narrow it down to sometime between *1890* and 1898? It's bad enough I have to be a fledgling, I'd at least like to have a decade under my belt."

"You've got a lot more than that," Darla said, eyeing his crouch with a knowing smile. "But we probably should get a bit more specific. No earlier than 1890 it is. I don't want choose an exact year; Angelus was always better at remembering minute details than I was. If Angel knows the year, he's bound to find some flaw in dress or location or...sex toy. Better to keep him guessing. So if he asks, divert the question."

"Speaking of sex toys, how exactly do you plan on keeping that wig on--what with all the bouncing around you're sure to be doing?"

"Not a problem," Lilah spoke up. "Wolfram and Hart's Entertainment Division can get you Hollywood's finest makeup artists, costume designers--everything you need. All those movie tricks are sure to keep your hair pieces intact for whatever *activities* you have scheduled."

"Wolfram and Hart has an Entertainment Division? Should have guessed." Spike rolled his eyes.

"How else do you think a movie like "The Love Letter" made it to theaters? Talk about evil," Lilah commented.

"So hair, makeup, costumes are all covered..." Darla enumerated, mentally checking off each category.

"I'm gonna hafta wear some froofy ponce of a shirt," Spike whined.

"Come now, my Spike. Don't be cross. It'll be fun--like playing dress-up in mother's wardrobe. Stockings and skirts and corsets strings..."

"Do have to admit, I'm looking forward to seeing you in a corset again, luv." Spike ran his cool hands up and down the indentation of her slender waist from behind, and she rubbed back against him, emitting a sensual purr.

"What about the house?" Darla asked, getting back to the business at hand. "We're going to need a period-looking house that's been refurbished inside to fit the time. How soon can you make that happen?"

"I can make all the necessary calls tomorrow and have a house ready for you to approve by tomorrow evening."

"Just what I like to hear."

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Too preoccupied with thoughts of everything that was brewing, Darla, Drusilla, and Spike decided on three quick kills on the way back to the hotel. Drusilla couldn't help feeling wrong about savoring her supper while her daddy was still so lost. Not to worry, they'd get him back--her Spike had promised her.

Darla could barely taste her dinner as it cried out beneath her and then trickled down her throat; her mind was too focused on other matters. Lilah had proven herself apt so far, but she was only human. Darla trusted Darla. She knew that she must rely on herself and her own mental prowess if her plan was going to succeed. "I need some time alone to think everything over again--make sure I haven't missed anything. I'll be up in my room."

Spike had thought the three of them would spend the evening perfecting the plan together. "You did the loner bit last night, luv."

"It's time we thought as three," Drusilla said, before leaning in and kissing her gently.

Darla returned the kiss for a moment and let Dru circle an arm around her waist, then she pulled back. "I appreciate the offer, but I need to think everything over by myself so I don't miss anything."

Spike knew from experience that there was no point in arguing with Darla--but there was one in reasoning with her. "How about a compromise, pet? We'll leave you all by your lonesome for a while, and then we'll come by, say, two hours before sunup, so the three of us can suss this whole thing out together."

"As a family," Drusilla added.

Darla couldn't help but nod in agreement. After all, wasn't that the point?

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It was pathetic, absolutely pathetic. No one knew how to dance anymore. Couple after couple with their arms limply draped over each other's shoulders and hips, their weight shifting from foot to foot aimlessly--it was artless. Dancing should be poetry, Spike thought to himself as he expertly swept Drusilla around the floor of the hotel ballroom, his feet remembering steps that, judging from those around them, the world en masse had long forgotten.

After over a century with Drusilla, Spike had grown amazingly apt at dancing elegantly to music only playing in his partner's mind. Now, he couldn't help smiling as he spun with his princess to a melody they both could hear. He reveled in the feel of Drusilla's soft palm against his own, in the tickle of her hair brushing against his neck as he twirled her, in the sight of her mirthful smile when he dipped her over his arm. Even the gentle tap of her delicate feet against the hardwood floor in time to the excellent playing of the orchestra mesmerized him.

Dru relished the touch of Spike's large hand holding hers, the sight of laughing blue when their eyes met after she twirled, the strong support of his arm at her lower back when he dipped her. She became entranced by his deliberate steps to the music that came to him like a second nature. He was such a gentleman--and he was hers.

As the last note sounded and every person in the room applauded--more for the amazing performance by the mysterious couple now embracing each other in the center of the floor than for the orchestra--only one thought whirled through Spike's mind: He was happy.

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"Like a raisin!" Dru exclaimed as she examined the crinkled surface of her fingertip.

Spike sucked the digit into his mouth and ran his tongue over the wrinkled skin before releasing it. "Sweeter," he declared.

Drusilla had sat up when she decided to check the condition of her fingers and toes, but now she let her hands and feet slip under the warm water again as she lowered her naked torso back into the bath and lay once more against Spike's chest. The two of them had spent the last hour making fun of the other couples in the ballroom, praising the orchestra, reminiscing about balls from years past, and discussing their concern for Darla (deciding to be especially patient and calm with her later that evening). Now, Drusilla chose to take the conversation in another direction:

"You worry...I can feel it."

"Well, I just don't like Darla spending so much time by herself, is all. It's not healthy. We don't want her getting as bad as Brood Boy, now do we?"

Dru shook her head. "Not Darla. Angel. You worry about Angel."

Spike knew he couldn't hide his anxiety from her, but that didn't mean he wanted to talk about it. "It's nothing. I'll get over it."

Drusilla turned over in the water, so that she was facing Spike, her breasts resting against his chest. "You'll tell me; I know." She leaned her face up and gave him a tender kiss. "Come now, love. Time to rinse." She pulled the stopper from the drain, rose to her feet gracefully, and extended a hand to Spike, helping him out of the tub and into the adjacent shower.

They showered in complete silence, Spike lost in thought and Drusilla busy observing him. Once they had dried off, each vampire slipped on one of the hotel's soft, white bathrobes. Drusilla walked into the bedroom and sat down cross-legged in the center of the bed. Spike followed her into the room, her delicately carved horn comb in his hand, and sunk down behind her. He began running the comb gently through her damp tresses.

"Tell princess. Tell me whatever's the matter. We'll make it better, my Spike."

He let out a heavy sigh before finally giving into her. "I don't know, ducks. It's not that I don't want Angelus back. I mean, at first I woulda sworn up and down and three ways from Tuesday that all I wanted was to be alone with you. Don't get me wrong for a second, princess, you will always be my favorite company," he kissed the top of her head before continuing, "but spending this time with you and Darla together has just felt so, I don't know, right. Innately right."

Drusilla nodded. "Like family."

"Well, that's the short and long of it, yeah. We are a family. A warped, incestual, bloodthirsty, downright evil family--and I actually wouldn't have it any other way. I know we won't really have that dynamic back in tune until our dandy old sire is back in the band--and the last few days have made me realize how much I want that dynamic. I crave it. On top of that, I'd also like to see Darla happy," he could see the blonde's face in his mind's eye, and he felt sorry for her. She had suffered so long, she deserved to have her mate back. "So, it's not the whole Angelus thing that's bugging me; it's the other--the Angel thing."

Drusilla nodded knowingly. "Not the same, with the soul...never the same."

"The bloody bastard looks like my sire--our sire--but he's not, y'know? His voice is different, his walk is different, his eyes...those eyes...are different. He's a different person all together. He's not my sire." After one last stroke, Spike placed the comb down on the nightstand.

"No, he's what has him trapped. Pushes him down, makes him scream. Sometimes I can hear him, when I get close enough. For a moment...just a moment...and then the nasty soul locks him back away in a box." Drusilla turned to face Spike and caressed his cheek lovingly. "I'm glad you see the difference, dearheart. Not alone. Mummy's here with you." She ran her tongue across a sharp cheekbone consolingly, and then rested her head in his lap and began to comfortingly trace patterns on his thigh at the same instant he started running fingers through the hair he had just finished combing.

"I just...I don't know if I can...it doesn't seem right..." he trailed off.

"What? Come on, my sweet," she coaxed. "Let go and feel better."

He sighed and then finally decided to come out with it. "I don't want to touch that bleedin' bastard. Being with Angelus...he's my sire. But Angel, that's who took him away. He took our sire away. I hate the pouf, and the idea of letting him...I just don't know if I can do it."

"It's not the sleeping that scares you most," Drusilla said knowingly.

"Hey! Not scared, anxious. There's a difference." Spike corrected defensively. "But you're right, luv. It's not just the shagging. I'd let that nancy boy shag me into next week if it meant getting Angelus back for you...for us...all three of us. It's the other stuff that's really giving me a problem: giving him cheek, letting him dominate me, calling him sire. For this to work, I'll have to do all of it, and," he hesitated, as if unwilling to continue. Drusilla nuzzled her head lightly into his leg as a sign for him to continue. "Oh, bugger it! I don't care how poncy it sounds! Doing all that with Soul Boy, it--it feels like a betrayal." There. He had said it. His chest sagged lightly, now that that weight was gone.

"I understand. He isn't daddy. But, remember what Darla said? Daddy's still in there. We're doing this to bring him out, to unlock the box forever."

"I know, pet, but--"

"Shh." She pressed a finger lightly to his lips as she gazed up at him. "You're only seeing the surface of the waves. Daddy is what lies beneath, biding his time. And now it has come. When you say sire, you speak to him...only to him, not the surface. The surface doesn't want it. Refuses to hear it."

Spike considered her words. Dru had a point--an extremely valid point. He'd been looking at this the wrong way. He wasn't going to do everything they were planning for Angel, he was going to do it for the inner Angelus. When he said sire, he wouldn't be addressing the poofter, he would be calling out his real sire-- forcing the soul to retreat in disgust and letting Angelus come to the forefront. It wasn't a betrayal, but a salvation.

Drusilla watched as the wheels in Spike's head turned and then clicked into placed. "There you are. Feel better?"

"Much," Spike answered honestly. "Thanks, sweets." He leaned down and kissed her forehead.

"My knight will slay the Angelbeast."

"We all will, luv." He knew things were about to change; he and his princess would finally get their sire back, Darla would finally get her mate back, and all four of them would finally get their family back. Yes, Spike could feel the impending change--and the flood of unquenchable excitement that came with it.

A glance at the clock told Spike it was time to go see Darla and iron out the last few wrinkles in the plan (if indeed there were any). As he approached the adjoining door, he couldn't help acknowledging his new sense of anticipation.

Drusilla peered curiously at her lover for a moment as he opened the door for her. Burning fish still swam all around his head, but now they were fully grown.

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A/N: Whew! I finally finished my first post-starting-college chapter! Yay! I AM SO SORRY that this update took so long! My real life just got so hectic! For anyone who cares, I am absolutely LOVING life right about now. Thank you all so much for the many reviews--they motivated me to make the time to write. I greatly appreciate all of your support! One reviewer asked me if I knew of any other Fanged Four stories that took place in modern times. "Darling Boy" by Evil Willow can be found at http://www.fangedfour.com/lasttime/darlingboy.htm. While I do not agree with every dynamic drawn in the story (especially the way the character of Pen was handled), it is still one damn good fic that I couldn't stop reading. It is also complete, so hopefully it will keep some of you busy while I am writing the next installment. If there is anyone out there who has yet to check out fangedfour.com, you should definitely do so A.S.A.P.! I sincerely hope you enjoyed this chapter! Thanks for your patience and please take the time to review!

To all victims of Hurricane Katrina, my heart and my prayers are with you.