Author: Judy/Beatle Spike
Title: Spike and Dru Meet The Beatles
Disclaimer: I own nothing. That mean man in L.A. (Joss) owns Spike and Drusilla, darn him, and only God knows who owns the Beatles. (I'm guessing Michael Jackson...?)
Distribution: Let me know the addy.
Feedback: Give it to me, baby!
Dedication: Emma, because she inspired it.
Author's Notes: Spike and Dru meet The Beatles. That's all there is to it.
LONDON, ENGLAND, 1963
Spike walked along the street with his girl, whistling a Dave Clark Five song. Now *that* was a band. Not like those bloody wankers The Beatles. I mean, "She loves you, yeah, yeah, yeah"? Their songs were saccharine and teeny-bopperish. But for some reason Dru seemed to love them.
Suddenly Drusilla stopped and pointed. "Spike," she breathed, "look!"
Spike rolled his eyes. Probably another orphan that she wanted to take home with her. But then he caught sight of four long-haired guys in suits. Oh, no. No, no, no...
"Spike, it's The Beatles! I want to go over and meet them."
"I don't know, pet..."
"Please?" When Dru looked at him with those big beautiful eyes he just couldn't say no.
John Lennon was listening to Paul McCartney drone on and on about new ideas for songs. Then he noticed a spikey-haired guy and his dollie bird girlfriend crossing the street to meet them. The girl was obviously excited to see The Beatles.
"Psst, George, Ringo, look over there," he hissed at his friends. Paul was *still* boring the crap out of the other three, and John, George, and Ringo would do anything to get away from it.
She walked over with a big smile on her face. For some odd reason John felt like he *had* to be nice to her. This bird was gorgeous, but he didn't want to make crude jokes about her. There was just something about her...
"Hello!" she sang. "I'm Drusilla!" Drusilla had a breathy, sing-song voice, but she sounded as if she had once come from the upper rungs of society.
Her boyfriend looked less than thrilled. His spikey hair was bleached almost white, and he wore leather pants and a matching duster. John was amused at the bloke's appearance.
"Hey, Dru," said George in his shy working-class Liverpudlian accent.
"Yeh, hi," said John, riveted. And would you believe it, Paul was not shutting up. Drusilla looked annoyed, and John shouted right in his ear, "PAUL!"
"What?" he asked irritatedly.
"This bir--I mean, lady, wants to meet you and here you are yakking away like a meter-maid."
"Oh," said Paul, sounding bored. "Hello."
Dru's eyes filled with tears at his ignoring her. Spike instantly caught it and said threateningly, "Just what do you think you're doin' mate, making my girl cry?"
"Nuthin'," said the arrogant superstar. "I meet thousands of girls like her each day. What's so special about *her*?"
Spike became enraged. "I'll tell you. She's *my princess*, that's what!" His face turned into the visage of vampires and he snapped Paul's neck. John, George, and Ringo stood shocked for a moment.
Then John broke into a huge grin. "Thank you so much!" he exclaimed. "He really was gettin' too full of 'imself. We can get Mal or Neil to stand in for him. No one can see us at the concert anyway, or hear us, for that matter, there's so many girls screamin'."
Drusilla smiled. "He was pretty on the outside, but not on the inside. I could see into his mind, and all he cared about was money."
"You're right about that, luv," said John. "That's all he ever talked about."
"It was a real drag," added Ringo, who, up until this point had not spoken.
"Say, how would you like to come to one of our concerts?" suggested George. "You'll get the best seats and you can come backstage with us."
Drusilla bounced up and down at the thought. "Please, Spike? Pleeease?"
"All right, baby. Anything for you," said Spike. He suddenly had a newfound respect for John Lennon.
And that's how Dru and Spike got to go to the London Palladium show and get all three--I mean, um, *four* Beatles' autographs.