A/N: Whenever someone addresses Aziraphale as "angel," I will not capitalize it because people would confuse him with everyone's favorite broody vampire. Also, This is my first GO fic and my first BtVS fic, so go easy on me.

A/N 2: Okay , it did say AC in the title (even if there is just a little bit of it) so if you're a homophobe, don't read. Besides, is it technically even slash it angels (fallen ad non-fallen) are genderless? Oh and sHeRi, I read an interview with Neil Gaiman and he really doesn't care.

Disclaimer: I don't own BtVS or GO


When Vampires Meet Angels (Of Both the Fallen and Non-Fallen Variety)

Spike stood outside her dorm, gazing up at her window. Her light had been off for hours, but he couldn't seem to tear himself away. Spike frowned, remembering how he ended up in England.

Flashback

"Spike, we can't continue this," Willow said pulling away from him. They were on the Watcher's couch waiting for the others to arrive when Willow made her announcement.

Spike frowned. "Why? What's wrong?"

A small tear ran down Willow's cheek. "It's just that, I love you so much and, well, I'm going to grow old and ugly-"

"Willow," Spike said, ready to tell her she would always be beautiful.

"Let me finish Spike. I'm going to grow old and you're, well, not. You'll move on, find someone prettier that me, most probably dead, and I-"

"Willow," Spike interrupted, "I'll never leave you."

"No Spike, you will," she said, smiling sadly. "I'd never keep you with me if you didn't want to be with me anymore." Spike was about to protest but Willow put her finger to his lips, stopping him from speaking. "Let me finish. I just – I just don't know if I'll be able to survive you leaving me if I fall anymore in love with you. So, I'm leaving now."

"What!" Spike exclaimed.

"Please, Spike, this can't work out. I got a scholarship to a college in England, and I leaving as soon as possible. I love you, Spike." And with those final words, Willow left the Watcher's apartment and the vampire's life.

End Flashback

Spike dropped his cigarette to the ground and squished out the fading light with his shoe, letting it join the other used cigarettes littering the ground around his feet. He came to England after he realized that he couldn't live without her. He might not be able to be with her, but he had to be near her at least. Spike continued gazing at her window until a fat droplet of water fell on his head. Other drops followed the first and in no time the vampire was caught in a downpour. Spike sighed unnecessarily and left to go find a place to wait out the storm.

Aziraphale was walking swiftly to his bookstore, his large umbrella keeping most of the water off his tartan suit. While avoiding the larger puddles, the angel scanned the darkness around him for the person he was supposed to meet. Aziraphale was becoming quite frustrated and was about to give up the fruitless search (1) when he spotted a bleached blond head amid the garbage in a nearby alley. He hurriedly ran to the man who was the picture of dejection. His eyes were solemn and down-cast, and his leather duster was doing absolutely nothing to protect him from the relentless rain which had soaked his clothes entirely. Aziraphale tsked at the sight, drawing the man's attention. Ice blue eyes gazed at the angel.

"Excuse me, young man," Aziraphale began. Spike scoffed at the idea of being called "young" (2). The angel continued, "You seem like you need a nice cup of tea."

Spike glared at the angel, expecting him to be frightened by the well-practiced look and run away. Instead he smiled brightly and extended his hand to help the vampire up. Spike stood, without the angel's help, and said "You shouldn't go helping every person you see. It could be dangerous."

Aziraphale chuckled and guided the vampire to his bookstore.

(1) Though Aziraphale, like any self-respecting angel, would never admit this lapse in patience.

(2) Though as Aziraphale had been in existence since before the beginning, the vampire was quite young in comparison. However, Aziraphale may admit to being old, but Crowley never would. Vanity is all a part of the demon package you see.


Spike had no idea why he was letting this man (3) lead him to some bookstore. The man's presence felt weird. The moment Spike was able to smell him his senses went haywire. His aura comforted Spike and at the same time made his demon wish to attack. There was something about him that his demon innately recognized but could not name. Spike's thoughts about the odd man were interrupted as they reached a tiny bookstore. The man led him inside and handed him a towel. "Here," he said, smiling warmly, "use that to dry off and I'll get us something to eat."

"Oh, hell, angel. You didn't bring home another stray did you?" a smooth male voice said from the back of the store. Spike turned to see a tall man with dark hair leaning against the doorframe. His dark sunglasses completely concealed his eyes and his dark clothes reminded Spike a little too much of Angel. That wasn't the only thing he had in common with Angel though: He smelled like Hell. No, he didn't smell bad, but there was a faint scent of sulfur, not detectable to humans, that told him that this man (or whatever he was) had been to Hell, literally. Spikes eyes narrowed. Who were these people?

"He's not a stray," the first man said primly. "He just needs a little help."

The darker man grumbled unhappily. "How long is he staying?" he asked sharply.

"Oh, calm down, Crowely dear (4), he's just staying for some tea," the first man said as he brought out the teapot.

The darker man, Crowley, sighed loudly. "He doesn't drink tea, Aziraphale."

Aziraphale looked at his teapot for a moment then back at the other man and then nodded. "Quite right." He set down the pot and instead brought down a teacup. Without filling it with anything, he handed the cup to Spike. Spike looked into the cup to see that it was filled with blood. The vampire looked back at Aziraphale who merely beamed at him before ushering him to a table. Aziraphale then grabbed two more cups and set them on the table. Spike leaned over the table to gaze into them; they were filled with steaming tea. Spike set down his cup gingerly and examined his hosts who were seating themselves at the table. Are they warlocks? Spike thought, recalling the annoyance that was Ethan Rayne. No, they didn't feel like warlocks. They felt like something else. Then he remembered what Crowley had called Aziraphale: angel. It all fell into place. Well, for Aziraphale at least. He still didn't know what Crowley was.

"Well, let's get down to business," Aziraphale stated. Spike looked at him in surprise. Business, what business?

"Business, what business?" Crowley asked (5).

"With William," Aziraphale said, nodding to Spike. "He certainly can't stay the way he is."

Crowley glanced at Spike through his dark glasses. "I like him the way he is," Crowley argued. "He may not be able to bite anymore, but he's certainly annoying enough to damn a few souls."

"Crowley!" Aziraphale gasped just as Spike growled loudly. How dare this man – thing – whatever say that! He was William the Bloody! He was the Big Bad! He was not annoying.

Spike was just about to utter his protest when Crowley laughed at the horrified look on the angel's face.

"It's certainly not funny."

Crowley stifled his laughter and asked, "Fine, angel, how did you want to change him?"

Spike was going to tell him that maybe he didn't want to change when he was cut off again, this time by Aziraphale. "I was planning on giving him his soul," the angel stated matter-of-fact. Spike was outraged. He didn't want to be the like the poof! Aziraphale continued before he could complain however. "But there would still be the problem of that pesky demon keeping him dead and immortal. Since this problem is one of Hell not of Heaven, I can do nothing about it, but you can Crowley." Aziraphale smiled widely as if Crowley would suddenly jump from his seat and exclaim that this idea was simply wonderful. Instead Crowley glared at the angel.

"Now why would I do that?" Crowley demanded, yellow eyes peering over the top of the glasses.

"Because he's in love!"

"I don't care."

"Crowley!"

Spike had tuned out the continuing argument since he saw the piercing yellow eyes. The angel had said that Crowley could get rid of his demon, but only a real demon could do that. Not a spawn of Hell, but a real demon: a fallen angel. But Crowley couldn't be a fallen angel. One: he was currently having tea with an angel who had clearly not fallen. Two: a real fallen angel would have ripped him limb from limp by now for daring to help the slayer. Three…well, there really wasn't a number three; the first two should have been convincing enough. But he did have those yellow eyes. Spike sniffed. And the scent of Hell.

At that moment Spike decided that he was going to make a run for it. He was ready to stand and dash from the room when Crowley said, "Fine." Aziraphale squealed happily and Spike saw two pairs of eyes turn to him, one set vibrant blue and the other slickly yellow. Spike's world went black.

(3) Now we all know that Aziraphale is not a man in the least but let's create a bit of dramatic irony and assume that Spike does not.

(4) Finally names are established!

(5) Odd coincidence you say? Think again. Demons are notorious for being uncreative in their surprised responses.


Spike awoke in the same alley he had been in before. He sighed loudly. A dream, it was only a dream. Then he realized that something was very wrong. The sun was bright and high in the sky. And Spike wasn't burning. Spike gazed at the bright sky and basked in the warmth of the sun. He had forgotten what it felt like. He had forgotten what it felt like to be alive. He could feel the heart inside of him, pumping the blood throughout his body. He felt warm. And there was something else. A feeling of goodness inside of him, a sort of sweet fluttering around his mind. It was his soul. Spike had his soul. Spike was too elated to notice the absence of guilt of his actions as a vampire, another gift from a certain tartan wearing angel. Instead the image of a smiling witch arose in his mind and in a moment he was running to her room.

Spike ran through the halls of her dorm, quickly apologizing to the myriad of students he knocked over. When he reached her door he didn't even bother to knock, he just threw open the door and stepped inside. Willow looked up from her textbook. She stared at Spike for a moment. Then she gazed out the window at the sun lit sky, then she turned back to him.

"Spike," she said while she stood and approached him, wondering if he was only an illusion.

"Yes, luv?" he replied, smiling broadly.

She took another look out the window before she said, "So you're…"

"Yes."

A smile began to grow on her face. "Then we can…"

"Yes, luv, we can be together." Willow squealed and jumped into his arms. They were finally together.


Outside the building two "men" gazed at the open window in which two kissing people could be seen. One man was beaming while the other was scowling.

"That was a really sweet thing you did, Crowley dear," Aziraphale said.

"Don't rub it in," Crowley snarled back. "You know you owe me, angel," Crowley said. His voice was no longer angry but silky, as if his statement was some sort of innuendo, which it probably was.

Aziraphale smiled and kissed the demon. "That's the way I planned it, dear."