A/N: Okay people—my plot bunnies would not let this idea go, so here it is. It is my valiant attempt at an uber-crossover—and I do mean uber-crossover. Hopefully, I can keep it making sense prays and not screw up canon in any of the 'verses, 'cause then I'd have OFU and PPC people after me and I wouldn't like that, 'specially 'cause I'm a supporter of both
Seasons are the year after Buffy ended. (Uh…2003-2004)
All of them go AU to an extent (what that extent it is, we can only guess)
Spoilers up to whatever season we're at in the different 'verses.
Disclaimer: I own none of the people you recognize and possibly some that you don't, depending on your favorite fandoms. Buffy and Angel belong to Joss and Mutant Enemy, Charmed belong to Spelling, the Law and Order trio belong to Dick Wolf (I think), and the CSI pair belong to…uh…whoever they belong to. Other disclaimers will appear as other fandoms appear.
The Enemy of my Enemy is my Ally
Chapter One
2:34 AM Wednesday, January 7, Las Vegas
Gil Grissom looked at his partner for the night, Catherine Willows, as they walked up to the crime scene. They were at the edge of a forest, a few yards from the road. Grissom remarked, "This is just the dump site. No blood."
Catherine nodded her agreement, looking around. The officer that had taken the call and the person who had found the body were a few feet away from the body, the officer still taking her statement. Grissom went to speak with her, leaving Catherine to start examining the body.
"I was walking my dog," the woman was saying to the officer. "And he pulled the leash out of my hand. When I found him, I found him too."
She nodded to the body.
Grissom asked, "Did either you or the dog touch the body?"
"No," the woman said. "Ruff was sniffing at it, but he didn't touch it."
Grissom nodded. "All right, thank you."
Catherine, half listening to the conversation, knelt beside the body, checking for ID. She found his wallet and flipped it open. "Michael O'Connell," she murmured, reading off the license. "Resident of NYC."
She glanced at his bruised and bloody face. "Welcome to Las Vegas."
6: 42 AM Wednesday, January 7, New York City
Robert Goren joined his partner Alex Eames at where the body of a woman who had been shot lay at the edge of Central Park. Eames looked up at him from her examination of the body. "Shot twice in the back, once in the head, no one saw a thing."Goren looked around. "She wasn't shot here."
Eames looked around too. "How do you figure?"
"No blood," Goren pointed out. "She was shot somewhere else."
"Lovely," Eames commented, looking at the woman. "And they were nice enough to leave us her purse."
Goren frowned. "They left her purse? Does it have any ID?"
Eames nodded, opening the wallet. "Elaine O'Connell. Lived in Manhattan."
She flipped through the wallet and found a handful of pictures. "She's got a family."
"Someone wanted to make a statement," Goren said, studying the layout. "Why else leave the woman's ID?"
"Okay," Eames said. "What kind of statement?"
"That," Goren said, "is where detective work comes in."
7:10 AM Wednesday, January 7, New York CityOlivia Benson and Elliot Stabler made their way down to the edge of the Hudson River where paramedics, a uniformed officer, and a witness were. Olivia held up her badge, looking at the paramedics. "Olivia Benson, SVU. What happened?"The paramedic nodded to the girl on the stretcher. "Someone dumped the kid. Someone out for their morning jog found her. Excuse me—she needs to get to the hospital."
He and the other paramedics finished getting the girl into the ambulance and took off. Olivia joined Elliot, who was talking to the uniformed officer and the person who had found the girl.
"I was out for a jog," he said. "I usually go this way—I like the river. When I saw the girl, I called 911."
"Did you touch her?" Elliot asked. "Maybe to see if she was alive?"
The man nodded. "Yeah, on the wrist. My wife's a nurse, so it's kind of automatic."
"Okay," Elliot said. "We'll have to get your fingerprints so we can eliminate yours among any prints the girl has on her. If you'll go with this officer, he'll take care of it."
The man nodded agreeably and turned to follow the uniformed officer. Elliot and Olivia headed for the hospital where the girl had been taken and found her room and doctor.
The doctor saw them before they had said a word and asked, "Are you here about the girl they just brought in?"
"Yeah," Olivia said. "Detective Benson from SVU, this is Detective Stabler."
She showed her badge then asked, "How's she doing?"
"She's alive," the doctor said frankly. "Which surprises me, to be honest. She's a hairsbreadth from being dead."
"Is she conscious?" Elliot asked.
"Not hardly," the doctor said dryly. "Severe trauma to the head—severe trauma pretty much everywhere. I sent in the rape kit—I know you people like that as soon as possible."
"Do you think she will wake up?" Elliot asked. The doctor shook her head. "There is no telling. That she's still alive is miracle enough."
"Anything else?" Olivia asked.
The doctor shook her head. "She's been beaten within an inch of her life. That's about all I can tell you now."
"All right. Thanks doctor," Elliot said. The doctor left. Olivia looked into the girl's room, shaking her head. "She's only nine or ten years old."
"We'll get whoever did it," Elliot said. "Don't worry."
2:58 PM Wednesday, January 7, Miami, FloridaHoratio Caine looked at the body a fishing boat had just dragged out of the water. It was reasonably well preserved, and for the most part uneaten, which meant it could not have been in the water for more than a few days.
It was laid on the ground and Alexx Woods bent down to examine the body. She handed Horatio his wallet. Horatio flipped through. Credit cards, a Nevada driver's license, and a laminated emergency card.
"I like this person," he remarked, reading the numbers. "Brother, boss—hello."
Alexx looked up. "What?"
Horatio showed her the card. "Under boss."
Alexx read it and looked at him. Horatio tapped the card on his hand. "Lady Heather. I seem to remember Gil Grissom of the Las Vegas crime lab mentioning her once or twice. Perhaps I should give him a call."
4: 26 PM Wednesday, January 7, San Francisco"Paige!"
Paige Matthews stuck her head out of her room, hollering, "What?"
"Come on, we've got to go! Are you coming or not?"
Paige grabbed her jacket and hurried downstairs, retorting, "Of course I'm going. It's not everyday my nephew gets a checkup."
Piper Halliwell rolled her eyes. "Then come on, we're going to be late. Phoebe!"
Phoebe Halliwell came out of the kitchen. "I'm ready, I'm ready. Don't yell."
"I didn't yell," Piper said, leading the way to the front door. She opened it, Wyatt in her arms, and shooed her sisters out, locked the door, and put Wyatt in his car seat next to Paige. Paige started cooing and talking to him as Piper got in.
They were halfway to the doctor's office when Phoebe let out a gasp, throwing her hand out. Piper turned to look. "Phoebe?"
"Vision," Phoebe said tightly. Piper kept driving, casting worried glances at her sister. Phoebe's eyes snapped open and she looked around frantically. "Turn right up here."
"What? Why? What did you see?" Piper asked, even as she moved to the right lane.
"A girl—early teens maybe—being attacked by a demon," Phoebe said grimly. "Just up here at the park."
Piper turned and they made their way to the small park. Piper and Paige looked around. Piper said, "Phoebe? I don't see—"
"There!" Paige said, pointing to where a strange looking demon had just slashed at a girl with his claws. Piper braked the car and she and Paige scrambled out, Piper ordering Phoebe, "Stay with Wyatt."
Piper and Paige dashed to where the demon and girl were. As soon as she was within range, Piper blew it up. The girl collapsed, staring at them wide eyed.
Paige skidded to a halt beside her, cursing. She was bleeding profusely from cuts on her face and body. Bruises covered her arms and face. She tried to scramble back as Paige knelt down beside her.
"Calm down," Paige said as soothingly as possible. "We're here to help."
The girl shook her head, drawing in great gulping breaths. "You can't," she said, her voice shaky. "I was dead hours ago—it's just taking longer than he thought."
"What do you mean?" Paige demanded. "Hang on—"
"It won't work," the girl said, seeing Paige's hands go over her. Paige shook her head. "It will. I can—"
"You can't heal everyone," the girl said. Paige stared at her. "What?"
The girl shook her head, shaking. "You can't. I—I went to Magic School—you guys are the Charmed Ones."
The sisters stared at her. Piper asked, "Why was that demon after you?"
"My-my dad was involved with'em."
Paige stared at her. Phoebe had walked up, carrying Wyatt, in time to hear that. Piper asked, "What do you mean involved?" as Paige asked, "What magic school?"
The girl coughed. "Business wise. I-I don't know exactly what it was he did, but—" She hesitated then said, "He did something they didn't like. They're dead."
"Who, the demons?" Piper asked. The girl shook her head. "Dad and Mom. I-I don't kn-know where my sisters are."
"Sisters?" Phoebe asked. The girl swallowed hard and nodded. "Two of them. Jessica and Regan—we were separated when—when the head demon guy gave us to his followers."
"Gave you—" Piper repeated, a disgusted look on her face. The girl nodded again, her eyes pleading, "Find them? Please? Regan's only nine—she can't survive with them by herself."
Phoebe nodded. "We'll find them."
Paige asked, "What's your name?"
"Carrie O'Connell," the girl said. She gave them a half smile. "Thanks."
Her eyes glazed over and she fell back. Paige looked at her two sisters. "She was right—I couldn't heal her."
Chris orbed in, looking from them to the girl. "What happened?"
"Demon," Phoebe said, cuddling Wyatt. "Come on. Wyatt's still got his appointment."
8:47 PM Wednesday, January 7, Los AngelesAngel made his way down an alley, listening for signs of attack. It had been a quiet night so far. No demons attacking, no vampires trying to get a snack…
"Oh look who I found."
No Spike until now.
Angel turned, sighing. "What are you doing Spike?"
Spike shrugged, looking around. "I was out for a night time stroll. What are you doing?"
"What I do. Helping people," Angel growled. Spike raised an eyebrow. "Helping people? By wandering around? Oh, that'll do them a load of good."
"It's called patrolling," Angel said through gritted teeth. "You should know that."
Spike shrugged again. "Maybe I do. Doesn't mean I have to let you know it, does it?"
A shout distracted them from their argument. Angel took off in the direction it had come from, Spike ambling after.
Angel came around the alley to the street in time to hear, "You think you can escape? No one can escape!"
He looked around quickly, but he could not see anything. He dashed down the street and into another alley, again just in time to see a vampire drop a teenaged girl, blood dripping from his mouth. He saw Angel and hissed, "Angelus."
Angel slowed, already able to tell that the girl was dead. "Well who are you?"
The vampire smirked. "One of your clients, Mr. Bossman of Wolfram and Hart."
"That's nice," Angel said. "What was this about escaping?"
The vampire looked at the girl with contempt. "Wouldn't you like to know."
"Actually I would," Angel said. "What's her name?"
"O'Connell." The vampire smiled ruthlessly. "Jessica O'Connell. Run that through your database. See what turns up."
He turned to leave. He didn't get three steps away before a stake imbedded itself in his back, dusting him. Angel sighed, looking at him. "They just keep on declining my services."
9:23 PM Wednesday, January 7, New York CityLennie Briscoe and Ed Green made their way through the mess that was police cars, uniformed officers, and coroner people to where the victim was. Briscoe looked at the coroner. "Well?"
"Teenager, sixteen or seventeen," the coroner said. "Killed by some monster, or so the witness says."
"Witness?" Green asked. The coroner nodded to where the woman stood, talking to a uniformed officer. "Yeah, witness. Girl was definitely killed by something with claws—she has four parallel cuts on her face and puncture wounds in her chest."
"Ow," Green remarked. He went to where the witness stood, saying, "I'm Detective Green. Can you tell me what you saw?"
"Like I told this gentleman here," the middle aged woman said. "I saw the girl enter the alleyway running, so I followed at a discreet distance, in case she was in trouble. Then I saw this thing that looked like a monster attack her. She fought well, but she lost."
"Now, when you say monster—"
"Oh, not a real monster," the woman said. "Probably just dressing up for Halloween early."
"Can you describe him?"
"Tall," the woman said. "Bulky, and brown costume. I didn't see the actual person, mind, and he didn't make any sounds except for roars and grunts."
"Thank you," Green said, smiling. He went back to Briscoe. "Monster. Well, let's find out who this kid is."
Neither noticed the dark haired young woman on top of the building behind them, watching them. Neither did they see her take off silently across the rooftop, away from the police hubbub, before returning to the street and entering an apartment. She picked up the phone.
9:30 EST, London, EnglandRupert Giles nodded as he listened to the person on the other end. "Yes, yes of course. Thank you for telling us. Good-bye Faith."
Buffy Summers looked at him, her arms crossed in front of her chest. "What did Faith want?"
Giles looked at her. "Rona was killed a half an hour ago," he said quietly.
Buffy swore. "Faith saw it?"
"Fyarl demon," he agreed. "Apparently NYPD is involved—someone saw it."
"Oh, that's fun," Buffy muttered. "I wonder what they'll find."
"Absolutely nothing," Giles said firmly. "They can't."
"Sure they can't," Buffy muttered. One new Slayer down. When would the next one die?
A/N: Whoo. And a big hoo. Give me some feedback, even if it is "You're insane." I get it from my friends every time I mention this particular cross-over.
