Buffy X-overs 1. Default Chapter

Collision

By MsBrooklyn

Incredibly AU: Crossover between BtVS/AtS and Michael Mann's Collateral. Shortly after This Year's Girl/Who Are You (BtVS) but just hours into Five by Five (AtS), Faith 'jacks herself a cab and picks up a very interesting passenger.

"I love this town," Faith yelled into the night, glancing back at the cops rushing into the club. It was too early to check out her new digs and since she had some money and there was so much of LA to see -

A horn honked over to her left and she turned to see a cabbie flashing her a mouthful of yellowed teeth.

"Need a ride, sweetheart?"

A smile crossed her lips as an idea came to her.

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"312 North Spring Street."

The driver turned around and looked at him.

"312 North Spring Street," Vincent repeated. "You're on duty, aren't you?"

"Yeah, okay, what the hell," the girl said. "What's the address again?"

Vincent gritted his teeth and repeated it for the last time before he tried another cab. "312 North Spring. Know where it is?"

"I don't have to. This thing'll give me directions. Pretty cool, huh?" She leaned forward and punched in the address on the flat panel console mounted on the dash. "Got it. Buckle up, baby."

He leaned back in his seat, regarding her warily. "How long do you think it'll take to get there?"

"It takes what it takes, yo. Traffic and weather, I don't control 'em. Why? You in some kind of hurry?"

"I'm on a schedule." With that, he reached into his briefcase and pulled out his PC tablet. He reviewed the prep again, glancing back up at his driver after a couple of minutes. She was young, he noted, with dark brown hair and doe eyes. Pretty. "How long have you been driving a cab?"

"A little while." She met his eyes in the mirror. "You got a problem with my driving?"

"It's fine, but you might want to turn the meter on."

"Huh?"

"Never mind. I'll pay you for the time when we get there."

"'Kay."

Looking down at his watch, Vincent took some comfort in seeing that he was still on schedule. Her driving wasn't bad, even if she wasn't all there. Probably, this was her first night on the job.

The cab lurched to a halt in front of a shabby-looking building.

She turned to him. "This it?"

"Yeah." He considered it for a minute and decided to take a chance. "Listen, I'm in town on a real estate deal, closing in one night. I need to make five stops. You think you can drive me around?"

"I think maybe you can convince me." Her lips curled up in a smile. "What's it worth to you?"

"How much do you make a night?"

The girl's eyes narrowed. "Hey! This ain't that kind of car -"

"I meant in fares." Definitely her first night on the job. "How about five hundred? Plus a bonus if you get me to LAX without me having to run for my plane?"

Her eyes swept over him. "I don't know."

"Yeah, you do." He pulled the bills from his pocket and fanned them in front of her. "Two hundred now. The rest later."

"You got yourself a deal, man."

"What's your name, hon?"

"Faith."

"I'm Vincent." He flashed a quick smile at her as he handed her the money. "Listen, why don't you go wait in the alley around the corner, so you don't get a parking ticket?"

"Cool." She winked at him. "See you in a couple."

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Five hundred? To drive his Armani-covered ass around all night? Not bad, she decided. If it got boring, she could just take whatever money he had, but right now, he was fun to watch. Total tight-ass, but a hot tight-ass. Maybe she could loosen him up.

Reaching over, Faith turned on the radio.

WHUMP!

When she looked up, there was a bloody face on the other side of the windshield.

"Holy crap!" She wrenched open the door and got out of the cab.

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Vincent took one look at the scene down the alley and cursed silently. This night was turning into a disaster.

The girl, Faith, came up to him. "This guy landed on the cab and totally trashed it. He's dead."

"No kidding."

She cocked her head to one side as realization dawned. "You killed him?"

"I shot him," Vincent told her. "The bullet and the fall killed him."

"Huh?"

Pulling his .45 HK from his waistband, Vincent leveled it at her. "Pop the trunk, Faith."

Faith gave a little shake of her head, not fazed by the gun. "Why?"

"Because I say so."

"Why not just get another cab?"

"Do it." He slid the safety back. "Now."

He heard her mutter 'tight-ass' as she made her way over to the cab. Opening the driver's side door, she reached in and popped the trunk.

"Good girl." He engaged the safety on the gun and slipped it back into place, reaching for the trunk latch. "Take his hands."

"What?"

"Take his hands and help me put him in the ..." Vincent trailed off as he looked down into the trunk. "What the hell is this?!"

The girl came up next to him. "That's the cab driver."

Vincent whipped out his gun again and pumped two rounds into the driver before whirling on the girl. "Who the hell are you?"

"I told you. I'm Faith." She smiled slowly at him. "You some kind of hit man, Vincent?"

"Kind of."

"You think you're a tough guy?"

"What?"

"You think you can take me?"

What the hell had he walked into? "You don't want to go there, Faith."

"Put the gun away and give us a kiss." She crooked a finger at him. "Unless you're chicken."

"I'm on a job."

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever. Look, you want me to drive you around tonight, I'll get us another cab. Piece of cake."

"You're going to get us another cab," Vincent repeated. "How?"

"Watch."

She walked out of the alley, looked up and down the street, stuck two fingers in her mouth and whistled loudly. Within seconds, a cab pulled in front of her. Faith leaned over, as if she was going to whisper to the driver, who rolled down his window to hear her. In a flash, she pulled the driver through the window and slammed his head on the hood of the cab. Twice.

Dropping the driver, she turned to Vincent. "See? Easy."

"I'm impressed. Put him in the trunk with the other one."

"You gonna shoot this one, too?"

"Is he still breathing?"

"Yeah."

"Then, yeah, I'm gonna shoot him." He watched her lift the unconscious driver with ease and toss the man into the trunk. "Good girl."

"Your turn."

"My pleasure." Two short bursts and then he retrieved his bag from the back of the cab. "Ready to roll?"

Faith grinned a shark's grin at him. "I love this town!"


	2. Three to Go

"7565 Fountain."

Faith tapped the keyboard and then turned around with a scowl. "Nothing. You sure you got the right address?"

"Try it again." Vincent leaned forward and watched her type. "Wait! F-o-u-n-t-a-i-n. There's an 'a' in there."

"I knew that," she said, defensively. "I'm just not good at typing."

"That's okay. You're good at other things."

"And don't forget it." She grinned, still looking at the screen. "Okay. Got it. 7565 Fountain, here we come."

"How long do you think?"

"How the hell should I know?" Her brown eyes flashed as they met his in the rearview mirror. "We'll get there. Don't get pissy."

"I'm on a schedule."

"Places to go, people to kill?"

"Like that, yeah."

"I'm cool with that." She leaned back in her seat. "I've had an errand list or two myself. So. Who we gonna take out next?"

"We? What we?" Vincent's voice get cold, deadly. There was no warmth at all in his blue eyes as they met hers in the mirror again. "There's no we here, Faith. I do my job. You do yours. Yours is driving, remember?"

"You gonna toss this one out the window, too?" she asked, ignoring him.

"I didn't toss him out the window. He fell."

"You always that sloppy, Vinny?"

"Why? You think you could do better?"

"Hell, yeah. I could've taken him with a crossbow at a thousand yards."

"A crossbow? Bullshit!"

"A crossbow and no bullshit." She stopped at a light and turned around so she could look at him again. "He's just human, right?"

"What?" Vincent started to speak, caught himself and shot her an annoyed look. "I'm not getting into this with you. It's my job and I'll take out the target."

"Who hired you?" she asked, changing the subject, watching him twitch as she caught him off guard. When he wasn't being an uptight jerk, he really was hot.

"What the hell kind of question is that!?"

"I mean," Faith said, slowly, this time putting more thought into framing the question the right way, "how'd you get the job? I kinda just lucked into my last one, but you've clearly got some kind of career going, with all the fancy James Bond stuff, not to mention the hit list."

"You were a hired killer," Vincent said, voice dripping skepticism.

"I did what I had to do. The boss wanted a certain item, I got it for him. Unfortunately, the boss got dead and now I'm back as a free agent. Well, almost free. There's a couple of people who'll be getting some payback with the interest, if you know what I mean, Vinny."

"I don't think you can afford me, sweetheart."

"When I need pointers about throwing people through windows, I'll give you a call."

"Would you let it go already!? I told you. That was a one-off."

"What are you gonna say when the next one goes through the window?"

"He's not --! Never mind."

Snickering, she pulled up in front of the building bearing the address 7565 Fountain. It was a fancy high rise, the polar opposite of their last destination. "Nice digs."

Ignoring her, Vincent loaded a fresh clip into his gun and reached into his briefcase. He pulled out a folder. "Go around the side to the alley."

"You gonna drop him on the cab?"

"Just do it." He leaned forward, lips close to her ear as she pulled around the side of the building.

She felt a little ping of regret as he got out of the cab and then, to her surprise, he came around to the front and got in on the passenger's side.

"Hands on the wheel, Faith. Ten and two, just like they taught you in Driver's Ed." He shook a couple of plastic restraints to make his point.

"You wanna tie me up? I didn't think you were that kinda guy."

"I'm full of surprises."

Faith put her hands on the wheel. Let him think he had the upper hand for now, she decided. Winking at him, she said, "This making you hot, Vinny?"

"I'll let you know later," he told her, slipping the restraints on. "Don't wait up for me. Daddy's got a job to do."

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He should have known not to expect everything to be smooth when he returned to the cab. Even though the kill was nice and clean, where Faith was involved, he was going to have to expect the unexpected. For example, the thugs she was wrestling with in the alley.

He'd worry about how she got free later. Right now, he needed to be concerned that one of them had his briefcase. "Yo, homie. Is that my briefcase?"

The thug turned, briefcase in hand, and snarled at him. "You wanna try and get it?"

"Hey, ugly, over here," Faith called. "I'm not done with you, yet."

Before Vincent could reach for his .45 HK, Faith whirled, knocking the giant down. She bounced over his prone body and kicked a wooden crate lying among the garbage, splintering the crate into sticks. Grabbing one, she brandished it.

"Come on! Who wants a piece of me!?"

One of the other thugs lunged, but she ducked with lightning speed, coming up and driving her wooden weapon into his back.

To Vincent's shock, the thug disintegrated into dust. "What the hell ---"

"She's the Slayer."

Vincent found himself staring up at the thug that Faith had knocked over. He raised his gun and fired.

The giant stared down at him, wounds bleeding, but not profusely. He should have been dead three times over. Instead, he looked very much alive and annoyed. "Are you trying to piss me off?"

Vincent fired again. Adapt to the environment, he told himself. Improvise. Darwin. I Ching. Shit happens. Whatever. And still the sonofabitch was standing.

Except, he wasn't. He disintegrated in front of Vincent's eyes, the briefcase dropping to the ground. Faith stood there, brandishing her wooden stick, a grin on her face.

"What? You never seen a vamp before?"

"Vamp? As in vampire?"

"Welcome to my world, Vinny." She grabbed his arm and his briefcase and steered him towards the cab. "You hungry? I'm starvin'! Slaying always makes me hungry. Makes me horny, too, but we're on a schedule, right? You figure we have time for a cheeseburger?"

Two down. Three to go.


	3. Interludes and Interruptions

Chapter 3 – Interludes and Interruptions

"Christ, what a mess."

Detective Ray Fanning arched an eyebrow at his boss, Richard Weidner. "You think?"

"Don't be a smartass, Fanning. Just talk to me. What was the story with this guy? This…Ramone?"

"Ramon Ayala," Fanning said, starting another circuit around the cab. "Confidential informant. I've been working him for the past four months. Low level player, but he's been feeding me some stuff on Felix."

"Reyes-Torrena? Forget it! The Feds are all over that. They don't want us anywhere near it."

"Since when does LAPD work for the Feds? Besides, Ramon flew out a window. My C.I. flew out a window, he's got Felix's handprints on his ass. That makes it ours." Shooting Weidner a long look, Fanning nodded toward the trunk. "The two dead guys in the trunk are definitely ours."

"Why beat them if you're going to shoot them?"

Fanning turned in the direction of the voice. "Lockley. What are you doing here?"

Kate Lockley peeled off her latex gloves. "Baking Girl Scout cookies."

Weidner rolled his eyes.

"The call came in for all available and, lucky me, I was available." Lockley leveled a stare at Fanning. "Which brings us back to my question. Your CI took two in the head and so did each of the bodies in the trunk, but only after somebody bashed their heads in. Doesn't make sense. The two shots is the work of a professional. So why the mess with the other two?"

"You're a detective," Fanning told her. "Start detecting."

Before Kate could respond in kind, a pair of uniformed cops came up to Fanning. The shorter of the two addressed Weidner.

"The old guy across the street, lives above the deli," the uniform said, in a soft, slightly high-pitched voice. "Says he saw a car parked out here and two people. One of 'em hailed a cab."

"Mystery solved," Kate said, dryly, gesturing to the destroyed cab. "We've got the cab."

"Can it, Lockley," Weidner told her, turning back to the uniforms. "Tell me about the two people. What did your witness see?"

"Kinda saw," the uniform admitted. "Guy's got glasses like Coke bottles."

"So did he see it?" Fanning asked, "or did his seeing eye dog see it?"

"So," Kate said, slowly, "maybe we've got a couple of dead cabbies."

"There's what, four thousand cabs in LA county," Weidner commented. "We've got no I.D.s on the bodies, so –"

"So we've got our work cut out for us," Kate shot back.

"Maybe. Maybe not." Fanning tapped his forefinger against his lip. "Remember fall of 2001? That Bay Area deal? Oakland. Cabbie drove around all night. Killed three people."

"Then he flipped out and put the gun to his head. So what?" Weidner asked.

"So, the Oakland PD detective, whatsisname, never bought it."

"Why?"

Fanning gave him a look. "The cabbie had no criminal record. No history of mental illness. Pops three people, kills himself? And the victims weren't random. Two were involved in some pharmaceuticals scam. Anyway, the detective always thought there was someone else in that cab."

"So you think, what, we're looking at some kinda Felix hit list?" Weidner asked.

"You said it, not me."

"Ah, shit."

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"You like jazz, Faith?"

"Huh?" Faith topped off the gas tank and replaced the nozzle. Vincent, she noticed, was smiling for a change.

"Jazz." Catching her lack of reaction, he continued, smile growing wider, "Guy told me about a place off Crenshaw. All the greats played there. Dexter Gordon, Thelonius Monk –"

"Thelonius what?"

"We're ahead of schedule. C'mon, I'll buy you a drink."

"Well, all right, Vinny! Let's go hear some jazz."

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Jazz, Faith decided, sucked royally. Vinny was totally into it, though.

"Nice. Kind of a 60s, early Miles thing," he commented, turning to her. "What do you think? You like it?"

"There's no beat and you can't dance to it, not that I'd expect much from a bunch of old guys, but still…"

Vincent shot her a sour look. "It's got a beat, but it's off the melody. Outside what's expected. Improvising off impulse. It's like tonight."

"I hope tonight's more exciting than a bunch of old geezers reliving their glory days." Faith swallowed the last of her drink and looked back up at the stage. The old guy with the trumpet had cheeks that bulged out as he blew into the instrument. "God, that's gross!"

Ignoring her, Vincent took another sip of his drink. He caught the arm of the waitress as he started to pass. "Who's that on the trumpet?"

"That's Daniel, baby. He's the owner," the waitress said, flashing a bright smile and cleavage that Faith was sure was less than real.

"He's terrific." Vincent unleashed dazzling smile. "Would you be so kind as to invite him over after his next set? I gotta buy him a drink."

"Sure thing, darlin'."

Faith waited a beat and then smacked Vincent soundly on the arm. "Are you out of your tree?"

Narrowing his eyes, Vincent leveled his stare at her. "What?"

"You're inviting some demon over for a drink?!"

"Just sit back and listen to the music, will you?"

Rolling her eyes, Faith grabbed his glass and helped herself.

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Bored now. Beyond bored. The demon was blathering on about somebody named Miles Davis and Vinny was totally enthralled by it. It was bad enough the demon had freak-cheeks, but he was long-winded, too. The entire club had emptied out and still, the guy was yammering on.

"…he carried my ass," Daniel finished.

"What'd he say," Vincent asked.

"He said one word. 'Cool.' It meant, good but not ready. Look me up when you are."

Vincent leaned forward. "Did you?"

"I got drafted and…into some other things. And when I got back to music, the season had passed." Daniel gave a small sorrowful smile.

"What a great story," Vincent said. "I've gotta tell the people in Culaican and Cartegena that story."

Faith felt the temperature drop. She looked at Daniel and his face was a mask of fear.

"Y-you know the folks in Culaican and Cartegena?"

"'Fraid so," Vincent acknowledged.

"Just when I thought you were a cool guy."

"I am a cool guy."

"No. You were a cool guy. Now you'll be a cold one." Daniel rose to his feet.

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Vincent got off two shots. Nice. Clean. To the head. Anyone else, any other night, and that would have been that. But tonight… Tonight was a different story altogether.

"That's it? They sent you and that's the best they could do?" The trumpeter was not only still standing, he wasn't even bleeding.

Was there anything that was going to go according to plan tonight? Vincent raised his gun again. Before he could squeeze off another shot, Daniel smacked the gun out of his hand and hit him hard enough to send him flying across the room.

Baring a set of teeth that didn't look quite human, Daniel came for him. Vincent's fingers strained for his backup piece.

Suddenly, the looming figure collapsed. Faith grabbed Vincent's hand and yanked him to his feet. "Stay out of the way."

"What?"

"Stay out of the damn way," she snarled at him, lunging for his target.

He'd seen his share of hand-to-hand, but the blows that were exchanged between the girl and the trumpet player were nothing like he'd ever seen. Both of them were moving faster than anything human could.

The thing that called itself Daniel was bellowing now, while Faith grabbed it in a choke-hold. There was a sickening sound as she twisted its neck. Daniel collapsed to the floor. Dead.

Faith wiped the blood from her mouth and smiled at Vincent. "Told you not to drink with demons."

Two to go.


End file.

Buffy X-overs