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.

CONTINUED FROM PART ONE...

Way above Collinsport, in fact, way above the earth, a starship named the Enterprise slowly orbited the planet. But it wasn't the same Enterprise as was seen earlier. No, this was a newer Enterprise, a bigger Enterprise. A brighter, more shinny Enterprise with a lot more computers, scanners, gadgets, dodads, and buttons. A totally awesome ship, commanded by a totally awesome captain. A captain so awesome, that he could be bald and short and still command all sorts of respect. A captain of such magnificent scope, that a TV guide article said they thought he was a more believable captain. A captain of such fantastic magnitude that...

Well, enough of that. At this time he wasn't feeling too wonderful. In fact, as he sat in his big, comfy, captains chair, looking at a small boy with an odd forehead, he felt positively exhausted. "Tell me one more time, Alexander, what did you do?"

"I was only trying to help!" the boy with the strange forehead protested. "We were in trouble, so I pressed a button."

"And what button was that?" Captain Picard asked, fearing the answer.

"The big, red, shinny, button," the boy answered.

"The one that was labeled 'Under No Circumstances Is Anyone To Press This Button'?" Picard asked.

"Yep, that was the one." Alexander nodded, confirming his answer. "Pretty neat, huh?"

Why did you press that button, when it specifically said not to?"

Alexander hung his head. "Be-because I'm the anti-Wesley. I have to do bad things to prove there can be a child on the show who isn't perfect."

The captain sighed. "Data," he called, to an android sitting at a very impressive piece of equipment with lots of bright flickering lights. "Where are we?"

"We are above the earth," Data said. "Specifically, the late 20th century earth. Presently, we're above the continent of the Untied States of Anemia."

"Say what?" The captain shook his head.

"Excuse me, I meant to say, 'United States of America," the android corrected. "A small, prostronic, circuit in my extremely complex, sophisticated brain, must have accidentally crossed with a tiny, platinum coated wire, causing a thermal coupling to heat up exactly 18 degrees above what it should have, causing me to accidentally give the wrong answer."

"Well good," the captain said. "Now that you've satisfied all the tech heads, perhaps someone could offer some suggestions of how we should get out of this mess. Number One, any ideas?"

Number One, a.k.a. Will Riker, a.k.a. The Most Eligible Bachelor in space, pondered thoughtfully, stroking his beard, and striking all sorts of dramatic poses. After several minutes of this, he turned to the captain. "You know, sir, I've always wondered why we have that button on this ship, if we're not suppose to press it."

Picard sighed. "Anyone else?"

"We could arm photon torpedoes and eliminate the planet." Worf, the security chief and token Klingon in Starfleet suggested.

"You know, I think that button is placed there as a psychological test of some sort." Councilor Troi, the woman with the best breasts on the ship said. "A representation of our hidden desire to do what we shouldn't do."

"I could do something wild with the warp drive to cause the ship to shake in a dramatic fashion," Geordie, the Chief engineer and the only person in Starfleet allowed to wear a radiator over his eyes, offered.

"That button has always bothered me," Will said. "Every time I see it, I just want to press it."

"Perhaps if we labeled it 'Please Press This Button,' no one would feel an overwhelming compulsion to push it," Troi suggested.

"Sir, I think this is an act of aggression," Worf said. "We should go to red alert and prepare for battle."

Captain Picard buried his face in his hands, weeping softly. It was going to be a long day. "What I meant was; Does anyone have any suggestions on how we can get out of here and back to our own time?"

"I could press the button again," Alexander offered cheerfully.

No!" Picard's voice was much louder than he meant it to be, but he had a point to make. "Whatever happens, Alexander, don't press that button!"

Before Alexander could respond, a bunch of blips and beeps came from the large computer where Worf was standing. "Sir," Worf said. "Scanners show another ship in the area."

"What type of ship?" the captain asked.

"A smaller one than ours, and not as well armed," Worf responded.

"All right, but who owns the ship?" Picard asked. "Is it Romulan? Klingon? Borg?"

"It's a Federation ship," Worf said. "But scanners show they've only got an AM radio and no air conditioner."

"Obviously a much older model." Will wrinkled his nose in distaste.

Picard gave Will a quick glance. "Well, Lieutenant Worf, open hailing frequencies."

Worf pressed a series of buttons, causing the computer to make all sorts of interesting beeps. "Hailing frequencies open, sir."

"Good. On screen."

In front of the ship, the windows disappeared as a group of studio people put up a giant movie screen instead. There was a flickering of snow, then a rather handsome looking Captain appeared.

Captain Picard stood up. "This is Captain Jean-Luc Picard of the U.S.S. Enterprise. Who am I speaking to?"

The handsome Captain looked puzzled. "I'm Captain James T. Kirk, also of the Enterprise."

"Amazing!" Picard commented. "I thought the old and the new crew were never suppose to meet."

"On the show, perhaps," Kirk said. "But this is a fanzine. Anything can happen."

Picard nodded. "Good point. So, why are you here?"

"Oh, in our time, everyone is about to die from the flu, so we're here to get the blood of vampire," Kirk said, almost yawning. "The usual. What brings you people here?"

"Some one on the ship pressed a button," Picard said.

"Not the big, red, shinny button, labeled, 'Under No..."

"That's the button," Picard said, nodding.

"Oh." Kirk nodded in sympathy. "You know, I've always wondered why that button is there if no one is suppose to press it."

Will looked over at Kirk, with the look of a man who had found a kindred soul. "We were just discussing that!"

"Perhaps we should accompany you on this quest of yours," Picard said, trying to change the subject away from the button.

"Maybe we don't need your help," Kirk said, giving him a challenging look. "I mean, after all, we are the original crew. If it wasn't for us, you wouldn't even exist."

"But our show has been on longer," Picard said.

"That's only because you're on syndication. Besides, we've done movies.

"We will be too some day," Picard said. "And our ship has lots more flashing lights and big buttons."

"So what?"

Picard took a deep breath and played his last card. "We've also got more women on our ship. A lot more."

"Really?" Kirk looked over at Deanna Troi and smiled. "Well, perhaps under the circumstances, we should accept your offer. Prepare a team of your most beautiful woman...er, uh, I mean, your most competent crew and beam over to our ship."

Catherine sighed as she sat on the sofa in front of the fireplace. She had been staying with Barnabas Collins for two days now, being treated with the utmost respect. She had listen while he had quoted volumes of poetry to her, told her thousands of amusing stories about the long lost Josette. She had enough. Tonight, he was going to kiss her good and proper, or she was going to get out. How much is a girl suppose to take? she thought. She looked over at Barnabas, who was sitting next to her.

"Your beauty surpasses everything," he said, softly. "I look at you and..."

She decided to take the subtle approach. "Look, Barnabas, cut the crap, okay?"

"Excuse me?" Barnabas looked shocked.

"I understand that you're an old fashioned type of guy, but I am a woman of the late eighties. I do have hormones!"

"What are you saying, dearest Jos...er, uh, I mean, Catherine."

She moved closer, turning her face up towards his. "I'm tired of this. I'm not asking for much, I just want to be kissed! I mean, women are being ravished on prime time and afternoon soaps every day! Is it too much to just want to be kissed!"

Barnabas looked shocked for a moment, then slowly smiled. "Well, if that's what you want..." He leaned forward, his lips lightly brushing against hers...

"Catherine!" They broke away and looked up as Vincent/Sam/Scott/Ron burst into the room "Catherine, don't! You're in extreme danger!"

"Good lord, do you need a shave," Barnabas commented.

"Vincent!" Catherine stood up and walked over to him. "How dare you! I'm not in danger, I was about to be kissed! Are you so mixed up that you've mistaken romance for danger?"

"Why not?" Barnabas said. "The networks always seem to."

"Especially when it came to Beauty and the Beast" Vincent/Sam said. "But that's besides the point. Look, I rode all the way up here, in a bus, sitting next to a woman who called me Fluffy and kept feeding me Little Friskies. You are in danger. You have to come with me."

"You actually rode in a bus and not on a bus?" Catherine asked, shaking her head in disbelief.

"Yes!" Vincent/Sam said. "I put my life in great risk for you. Please, come with me."

"No way," Catherine said, shaking her head. "Go back to New York? Back to those long hours in that salt mine they call the DA's office? Back to evenings spent with you on the balcony, freezing my butt off in some flimsy little number, while you're snuggled all warm and cozy in the blanket, quoting poetry and almost kissing me? I've had enough of that. I'm not going back, unless you can promise me a little action."

"Okay, I promise you I'll show you some action," Vincent/Sam said. "Now, could we just leave?"

"Not yet," Catherine said. "I want to know what you plan on doing."

Vincent/Sam stopped. "Um, well, I'll hold you tightly, I'll kiss you softly."

"On the lips?" Catherine asked, rising from the couch and walking over to him.

"On the lips," Vincent/Sam confirmed. "Then I'll caress your..."

"Hold it!" Catherine reached out and put her fingers on his lips to silence him. "Remember, this story is rated PG-13. None of that stuff." She moved closer, cuddling up to him. "When we get back to New York, and the writing stops, you can...show me." Vincent/Sam was just about to answer, when a loud yelling came from outside. Immediately, the three of them and Willie ran outside, where they saw a group of strangely dressed individuals standing in the rose garden. The yelling had come from Mrs. Johnson, who was wacking several of them with a frying pan.

How dare you tromp all over my roses! Do you know how long it took me to grow those! Take that! Take that!" She brandished Captain Picard on his head.

"Madam, I assure you, we meant no harm!" Picard protested. "Put your...weapon away!"

"It is not a weapon," Data explained. "In fact, what it is is a cooking utensil known as a fry pan. It has a flat bottomed surface, which enables..."

"I don't care what it is!" Picard shouted, raising his arms to protect his head and face "I just want her to stop hitting me with it!"

Barnabas, Catherine, Sam/Vincent, and Willie came running over. When Will Riker and James Kirk saw Catherine, they broke away from the group and practically raced over to her.

"Allow me to introduce myself," Will said, taking her hand and kissing it. "I am William Riker, second in command to the U.S.S. Enterprise, and every woman's dream."

"Forget him!" Kirk jabbed Will in the ribs, pushing him out of the way. "I'm captain James T. Kirk of the original U.S.S. Enterprise. I've got a lot more personality, and I don't look anything like Elliot Burch!"

"Nice to meet both of you," Catherine said, thrilled that she was the cause of so much male attention.

Willie walked over to Worf. "God, you've got an ugly forehead." He didn't notice as Worf slowly began to growl, but continued, "I'll bet that's got to be the ugliest forehead I've ever seen. I mean, I know I've got problems getting a date, but with a forehead like that, women must be grossed out by..."

Willie never had a chance to finish his sentence, as Worf slowly put his hands around his neck and began squeezing.

"Worf!" captain Picard interrupted, trying to avoid Mrs. Johnson and her fry pan. "Please put that person down!"

"If you insist." Worf dropped Willie, causing him to fall over.

Barnabas looked around. "Could someone please explain what's going on here?"

For a moment, there was dead silence, then everyone started to explain at once. "We need your blood," Captain Kirk said.

"Someone pressed a button on our ship, that they weren't suppose to press..." Picard said.

"Why do they put that button on the ship?" Will complained.

"Since your blood will cure a devastating illness, the only logical thing to do would be to give us some," Spock said.

"I still say the button is a representation of..."

And on and on it went, everyone talking at once. Barnabas was just about to scream for everyone to shut up, when a rumbling noise came from over the hill. Everyone stopped and turned towards the noise. "What the hell..."

Coming over the hill were a group of people, wearing Levijeans and T-shirts that advertised various products. They wore SonyWalkmans clipped to their belts. Some were walking, a slow, shuffling gate, others were driving or riding in pickup trucks. They were all saying the same things over and over again, "Advertising is wonderful. We buy what we see advertised on TV. TV is our friend. We watch it all the time. We love sit-coms. We never videotape and edit out commercials. Buy, Buy, Buy."

"Who in the hell are those guys?" Catherine asked.

"Oh my God," Captain Kirk turned pale and began to shake. "I...I know who they are...I...I've seen them before!"

"What are they?" someone asked.

"It...it's the...the Nielsons!" Kirk shouted. "We're all about to be..."

"Destroyed?" Worf offered, pulling out his phaser.

"No, worse!" Kirk screamed. "We're all going to be canceled!"

Her eyes burning with excitement, the fan writer looked up from her typewriter and over at her friend, sitting on the couch. "So, Cindy, what do you think?"

"I'm not sure, Jessica," Cindy said, trying to sound as gentle as possible, to spare her friends fragile ego.

"What do you mean you're not sure?" Jessica sputtered. "It's beautiful! I've got action, intrigue, mystery, romance! I've got practically every fandom in existence in this story! What's not to love about it?"

Cindy shook her head. "How about the fact that it's just much too silly!"

Jessica looked down at her typewriter. "Yeah, perhaps you're right." Slowly, she picked up the pages and began ripping them into little pieces.

Well, that's all she wrote. At least for this story.

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