7/23/09: Edited for original upload errors caused by text editor.

Touched By An Angel was about angels helping people.

Forever Knight was about a vampire family--one of whom sought redemption.

I wrote the crossover, but don't own either property.

This story was met with a lot of trepidation when I first posted it at the TBAA site. Only one reviewer became a huge fan. The others fell away before they could learn that FK was no Dracula or Hellsing and rather overlooked the fact that their show also featured demons on occasion and that my story treated the show's angels with great respect. Ah well. Wach-ya goin-a do?

A/N: This story was originally published by me as Kyer en Ysh on Dec-01-00 at the Official Touched By An Angel Fanfiction Forum. A recent check there showed that all stories that were placed there two months from when I finished this were deleted. Why I don't know. But currently, you will not find this story anywhere else on the net.

This story is by far the longest thing I ever wrote. (before writing Justice League) Even without authors notes or other commentary, it came to almost 900kb. A lot of that kb is devoted to memories (or flashbacks-- as Forever Knight liked to refer to them as.) There are a few of Nicholas's memories I threw in just because... but most have some impact either on the plot or as insight into the characters. Still, if you wish to skip them, you possibly will continue to figure out the plot as it develops.

Lastly, this story is rated by me as PG-13. I am not terribly familiar with rating systems; however, this story is about a conflict between angels, demons, and vampires. Here there be acts of violence and sexual innuendoes. I'm not fond of grossness myself, nor is this NC-17, so there will be no graphic sex or buckets of blood and gore. Eh... okay, maybe bottles of blood. I mean... vampires do drink the stuff. –laughs-

Special note to those who reviewed what were originally chapters 1 thru 21, but now 1thru14: Because I had to redo where the parts ended, some of the review answers I give will not necessarily match the post numbers in 's review area. Sorry about that. It was just too much time to go back and fix that as well.

Chapter One: An Invitation to the Dance

The loud music was playing at full steam when a tall man with shoulder length, golden-blond hair suddenly appeared to one side of the dance floor, immediately followed by a petite woman with longer, dark hair and doe-like eyes. They quickly stepped even more to the sidelines to avoid the assorted gyrating dancers.

Nervously glancing about, the young woman stayed next to her companion's side as if they were stuck together with glue. Though much older than she looked, she was still relatively new to her job and somewhat naive as to what was happening behind 'closed doors'. She recognized the music and decor as being what her supervisor had described as 'gothic', but other than that she felt very out of place amidst the crush of exotically dressed people with their black lipstick and/or neon spiked hair.

Her male escort--a man with boyish features to match his equally gentle eyes--smiled reassuringly at her as he glanced around for someplace more private for them to sit. Though he was much more knowledgeable about the seedier side of humanity, that knowledge had not corrupted his spirit in the least. He felt nothing but pity for these poor people dancing the hours away---even as he kept close guard over his younger friend.

"Andrew," the slight woman bit her lower lip as a Mohawk-haired Punk wearing studded leather jacket and a dog collar leered suggestively at her, "are you sure Tess said we were to meet her here? And dressed like this?" She unconsciously tugged at her black knee-high dress even though it was far more modestly cut than anything the other patrons were wearing.

A single look from her escort sent the leathered Punk rocker looking elsewhere for a 'dancing' partner. Her friend smiled again at her as she clung fiercely to his arm. Delicate fingers crinkled the otherwise impeccably smooth silk of his black metallic shirt, which blended in quite nicely with the faux lizard-skin vest, patent leather pant boots, and linen slacks--all in black tones with only dark metallic to relieve the monochrome clothes as they shimmered in the club's lighting.

Monica had to admit that he looked really good in the ensemble, but she was just not used to seeing him in dark clothing, let alone black. Normally he wore casual clothes while on assignment, or his pristine white suit while on 'active' duty. These garments seemed to shroud him in darkness--like the sudden eclipsing of the sun's light in shadow--and she shuddered a little at the thought, quickly discounting it. There was not the least bit of darkness in her best friend. Andrew was the kindest and most gentle being she knew. When in his true form, God's reflected light radiated from him.

"Don't be afraid, Monica," the tall man soothed, patting her hand until it relaxed. He could sense her unease, and could guess at the causes, but it wasn't for him to question God's judgment. This was where they had been sent--it wasn't their place to question why. "Look, there's a table." He quickly walked her over a seat and sat down beside her on the outer edge, 'guarding' her physically from the other patrons with his body, like the gentlemen he was. She rewarded his thoughtfulness with a tentative smile. A white coaster sporting an icon of a black bird with wings aloft caught his attention and he pointed it out to her. "See there, it says "The Raven". We're in Toronto,"--he shrugged while wearing a teasing grin on his face---"and this definitely looks to be a nightclub. I'd say we're right on target."

"Oh. I was kind of hoping we'd been bumped off course or something." She shrunk in her seat and edged even closer to him as another pair of blatantly kissing and outlandishly dressed humans wandered by their table. "I don't much care for this place, Andrew," she confessed, her anxiety bringing out her lilting accent even more.

Her companion gazed around them. There were chains hanging down from the ceiling. A distinctive painting of a woman was hanging over the bar. He hurriedly averted his gaze.

"It does lack God's graceful touch," Andrew agreed, "but I've seen worse."

Monica gulped a little at that, sure that her friend and coworker was not stretching the truth. For one, he--like herself--was an angel of God. For another, whereas she was just a recently promoted caseworker trying to help people back on God's path, Andrew had already been serving the Lord as an Angel of Death since the American Civil War when he, too, had been a caseworker. This meant that he was sent into all kinds of places and nightmarish situations in order to escort God's human children into Paradise when they died.

She was certainly glad that the gentlemanly angel had been chosen to 'escort' her now on this case. Monica didn't even know the details of it yet, and already she was getting goose bumps!

Andrew gave her a one-armed hug. In his heart, he was a bit nervous himself. There was something odd about this assignment. Something familiar, but which he couldn't quite put his finger on. And it wasn't just their surroundings either. Inside, he felt... strange.

"Don't worry, Monica. Under all that black makeup and crazy dress, they're the same lost sheep of the Lord's as your other assignments. Everything will be fine." At least, he hoped so. Frowning, Andrew brushed a hand over his forehead, a slight grimace tugging at the corners of his mouth. A presence loomed over him, and he found himself looking upwards into the sultry, full-lipped smile of one of the club's waitresses, several empty glasses balanced on the tray she held in one hand while she leaned over to 'adjust' his shirt collar with the other.

"My, my... you're new, aren't you?" she breathed, winking at him. "Don't go away, handsome; I'll be right back after I take care of these empties." Straightening back up, she sniffed rather disdainfully in Monica's direction. "Maybe you can do the same with yours."

Monica didn't know whether to be angry at the woman's insulting demeanor towards her, or laugh at the flabbergasted expression on her friend's blushing face. "What was that you were telling me, Andrew?" she smirked after the waitress had left them.

"Um... well..." Andrew started to laugh alongside her despite his embarrassment at the waitress's attentions, realizing how funny he must have looked to his friend with his mouth hung wide open in astonishment. "I hope I can let her down easy."

"Just tell her that you can't date anyone without the approval of my boss. One look at your chaperone, and she wouldn't look twice in your direction."

They both giggled a bit, wondering what the woman would think if she knew she had just been flirting with an Angel of Death who had one very motherly--and bossy--friend in Monica's supervisor.

Two heads jerked to attention as a rather annoyed 'humph' sounded from close by.

"Tess!" Monica exclaimed rather guiltily, blushing deep red as the very angel they had joked about appeared at their table.

The large, black woman sat down opposite the pair and proceeded to waggle a finger at them as if they were her own children; which in a way they were for Tess was Monica's supervisor, guiding the young angel on her assignments. She tended to think of the Irish angel as her 'Angel Baby', and since Andrew was often as not helping Monica too, well, he was her 'Angel Boy' as well. She loved them dearly... but sometimes they made her one very exasperated angel.

"Don't you give me that innocent look, Angel Boy," she warned Andrew, who was doing his best to keep his mirth hidden behind his clasped hands. "Didn't I warn you to keep a low profile in this place? Yet here you both are---giggling away like a pair of Mad Hatters."

Andrew immediately sobered. "Yes, though you didn't say why."

"And it wasn't Andrew's fault, Tess," Monica asserted. "That...vamp... was pretty brazen." Monica missed the slight start her supervisor gave at her words. Before anyone could say more, the waitress in question had returned. Her beautiful face wore an unappealing pout as she spotted the addition to the group. Sighing, she reluctantly got down to business---but not without trying to catch the golden man's eyes in the hopes of flirting some more. She addressed the two women first.

"Hi, I'm Alma. What'll it be?"

Somewhat taken aback by the surly attitude---didn't this establishment care about good service?---Monica started to ask for her favorite drink. "I'd like a mocha--"

"Two glasses of water for us," Tess broke in, gesturing rather pointedly between herself and Monica.

"But, Tess..." Monica began.

"Water," her supervisor sternly repeated. Her caffeine-addicted charge meekly shut her mouth.

Waiting through the exchange in a bored manner, their waitress rolled her eyes before turning to Andrew, suddenly all warm honey again. "Two glasses of tap water and one complimentary House Special for the gentleman." She blew Andrew a kiss before departing for the bar.

Confused, Andrew started to rise from his seat to stop her. "Miss, wait a moment--?"

Tess grabbed his arm and firmly indicated he should retake his seat.

"But, Tess---I didn't ask for any of their wines," he protested. "Water will be just fine for me, as well."

"No it won't, Baby," Tess told him, her expression sad, "not for awhile, anyway."