The Shield and Buffy the Vampire Slayer

in a crossover FanFiction

Antwon's Fangs



AKA LancerFourSeven

& AKA STFarnham

Disclaimer: I borrowed the characters from Buffy the Vampire Slayer and The Shield without permission solely for non-commercial use. They will be returned unharmed, although some (especially those from The Shield) may need counseling before getting back to their usual work.

Rating: FR18 for language and violence.

Summary: Farmington is infested with Antwon Mitchell, Vic Mackey, vampires, and a handful of demons. Which one is the bigger monster?


This takes place in the fourth season of The Shield, which would be several years after the collapse of Sunnydale. I have tried to keep this story linked in order with the episodes in the Shield, but a few scenes will get switched around to keep this story clear. The end of this story will be AU for The Shield.

The Cast of Characters for both Buffy the Vampire Slayer & The Shield is at the end of this chapter.

I've tried to follow the language patterns of the characters on the Shield, but since the closest your author has been to the 'hood is riding by on a fast train, my idea of ghetto slang is not going to be accurate; besides, slang changes at such a rapid pace that it's impossible to stay current. So I've tried to hint at ghetto slang with a few words and phrases mostly borrowed from the show. If anything seems wildly inaccurate, just assume it was normal a few years ago and has just gone out of style.

The characters of Peas and 8-Ball are an homage to the assassin pair, Chris and Snoop, from The Wire, although this is not a crossover with that show.

If anyone reading this has not seen The Shield, here's a few things you'll need to follow along. The show was inspired by the Rampart police scandal in Los Angeles in the late '90s in which an anti-gang task force ended with seventy officers implicated in a variety of crimes. In the show, Detective Vic Mackey leads a four-man strike team, including Shane Vendrell, Curtis Lemansky, and Ron Gardarki. The Strike Team uses corrupt methods to control crime, including stealing from drug dealers, torture and murder, whatever he has to do to put bad guys in prison. Vic sees himself as a good guy, even though he definitely is not. The team broke apart in the previous season, although they do get through their differences and get back together. Vic will do whatever he has to do to to get what he wants, Shane thinks he's smarter than he is, Lemansky is disturbed by their unethical conduct, and Ronnie is solid and loyal to a fault.

Chapter One

Antwon Mitchell sat back in a stained and ripped Barca-Lounger, his ham-sized fist clutching a cold beer. He looked up, his cold dark eyes taking in one of his distributors. "So Jules baby, I can see yer shakin' in yer boots. Thas gotta be bad news – so toss me a dime."

Jules tried to straighten up, but he was frankly terrified. "We got jacked, boss. Three days worth of cash – gone."

"All of it?"

"All gone."

"And the product?"

"She didn't want product, just money. She said this was last months payment, she'd be back next week for this month's, and every month after. She claimed it was our price for doin' business in the hood."

Antwon shot to his feet. "NOBODY FUCKS WITH ME!" he shouted. Calming down, but appearing even more dangerous when quiet, he stalked back and forth and asked quietly, "Who the fuck is this crew with enough balls to shake down Antwon Mitchell?"

"As far as I can tell, it jus' one girl, a fly white chick. She punched out Jims and Candy both – using just her left hand cuz she had a big fuckin' sword in her right – and demanded I pack up the cash in her gym bag. That sword was sharp, Antwon, I wasn't gonna argue wit' that, not with the fuckin' muscle already down for the count."

Antwon calmed down. "Okay, for now." Jules let out an audible sigh of relief. Antwon angrily threw his beer can at the wall. "I been dissed out by a bitch, she too dim to live! Get Peas and 8-Ball here! Jules, get the fuck outta here before I fuckin' shoot you! You best be thinkin' up ways to make up that money."

"You know I'm yer dawg, Antwon, fo sure that bitch ain't gettin' no mo' benjamins from me!"

Peas and 8-Ball, driving a black Cadillac Escalade, navigated cautiously down a rough and rutted little track in the shadow of the Interstate Highway, not far from a confluence of several huge concrete storm ditches. It was steep and narrow, requiring four wheel drive and low range. At the bottom was just enough room to make the turn into an abandoned warehouse on one side or to an open field covered in old trash on the other. 8-Ball drove, his seat adjusted all the way down so his ridiculous looking hat didn't brush the roof liner. There was no one alive stupid enough to make fun of his hat, at least not to his face.

Peas said in her soft raspy voice, "Take a turn over that way, with the headlights on."

8-Ball said nothing, as usual, but he flipped on the lights and turned as asked. Peas said, "Aww, it wuz nuthin', musta been a shadow." They drove around several columns close by a couple of large rectangular holes in the concrete floor on the way to the back of the huge expanse. Part of the roof was missing, shafts of sunlight lit the area intermittently, and some of the holes had weedy looking plants just barely surviving but looking right at home in this depressing space. The Escalade pulled up and stopped by a hole in the back. One single shaft of light barely lit the area. Peas and 8-Ball got out, leaving the doors open but with the engine off, strolled around to the back.

Peas opened the rear door and gestured towards her partner. The two leaned and grabbed a rolled up carpet and yanked it onto the concrete. The allowed it to unroll and 8-Ball grabbed the man who had been trapped inside by the collar and stood him up. He was shaky, his hands taped together behind his back, his ankles taped also with silver duct tape. He begged, "8-Ball, please, I swear I won't do it again! I'll make it up! Really, I can get half by tomorrow! The rest by the end of the week! Antwon'll get some fine interest too!"

"It's no good Bodie," said Peas, "you fucked Antwon – you shoulda jes pulled the trigger on yer ownself an' save us the trouble. He don't care anymore if you pay him back or not, he care you fucked him over in the first place. An thas why you gots ta pay the price."

The victim shivered with fear, tears leaking down his face.

"But hey, don't worry Bodie," said 8-Ball, "I'll take care of you, after all, we nearly neighbors." Bodie looked up with sudden hope in his eyes. 8-Ball continued, "I'll make it quick, you won't feel a thing." He shoved Bodie into the pit, next to a dried flow of lumpy concrete. Both 8-Ball and Peas ignored the look of horror and the shouting. 8-Ball pulled out a model 1911 .45 Navy Colt, aimed and shot. Bodie's spinal cord was severed just below his skull, he was dead instantly. "I keep my promises," 8-Ball said quietly.

Peas looked a the Colt and raised her eyebrows. "Not a nine?"

"Nah, this is Bodie's gun. Fittin'." He tossed it into the pit, next to the victim.

Peas and 8-Ball were utterly unconcerned about the bleeding corpse as they set about dumping sand and cement into a huge concrete mixer sitting nearby. Peas yanked the starter, the gas engine started up, and the barrel began turning, churning the ingredients into concrete. When it was ready they guided the machine into position and shoved the lever to the pour position. When the concrete ran out Peas ran water through the hopper, aimed away from their fresh lumpy pour covering the new grave.

Peas said, "One more, then this'un'll be filled. Then a fresh pour on top, smooth it out, and no one will find 'em."

8-Ball nodded agreement. They both went about their business in a workmanlike manner, cleaning tools, rolling up the hoses, vacuuming the 'Lac, in general putting everything back in order. They took off their coveralls, dumped them into the open part of the pit, got in the vehicle and drove out, just barely making the turn onto the track without scraping the doors, the Escalade working hard on the climb back up to the street. Peas turned on her phone and checked her messages.

"Let's go see Antwon."

8-Ball nodded.

About an hour later the tall man and the short woman walked into Antwon's warehouse. Without having to say anything, the message 'don't fuck with me or I'll kill you' clearly got out. Except for Antwon himself and two guys back in the deep shadows, everyone else in the crew politely stepped out of their way.

"Hey Antwon," the girl with a gentle smile said softly, " 'sup?"

Antwon smiled for the first time since his interview with Jules. "Hey Peas. You know where Jules' crib is?"

"Yeah," came the soft reply.

"He got himself jacked by some bitch who plans on comin' back and jackin' him again next week. You meet her and take care of her."

"Anythin' special?"

"Nope. Do what want with her, double cap, 1-8-7, and burn the bitch! Hell, burn her alive if you want, I don't fuckin' care. But bury her deep after, you feel me?"

"Gotcha Antwon."

"I want her outside of Farmington, where the worms'll eat her corpse."

"Got the place."

"Usual terms."

"Word." The two turned and sauntered out.

Antwon relaxed. He shouted at one of his girls, "Bring me a forty, Strawberry, an' drag yer skinny ass over here, and git down on yer knees!"

Detectives Wagenbach and Wyms looked at the crime scene with old eyes. The senior uniformed officer on site reported, with occasional glances at his notebook, "The victim's son came over this afternoon. He tried calling earlier in the day but there was no answer. He looked in the door and saw, well he saw this. It looks like he puked in the bushes by the driveway before he called 9-1-1. He's pretty much still in shock, the EMTs are looking after him now. We did a sweep of the neighborhood and saw no sign of any wild animals, or anything else out of the ordinary."

'Dutch' Wagenbach said, "Well Claudette, it's obvious that this was a sexual encounter involving blood sports, I'd guess she forgot the safety word, either that or her partner didn't care to continue the relationship."

"Is that all you can think of?" Detective Wyms asked, exasperated, "Anything anybody does is sex, sex, sex, to you. You do know, don't you, that there are other motivations in the world?"

"Not in my experience. Most crime comes down to sex, sick sex at that."

Wyms shook her head in mild annoyance as she snapped her gloves on. Her annoyance grew when an unmarked black SUV pulled up with a squeal of brakes and Detective Vic Mackey got out and stalked towards them. He pushed his dark sunglasses up, glanced over at the victim and said with a deep belly-laugh, "This don't look gang related to me, looks like a wild dog problem. You plannin' a transfer to animal control? Come to think of it, with your doghouse relationship with the DA's office right now, that might be a good idea!"

'Dutch' Wagenbach answered primly, "Dogs usually rip out the whole throat, they don't normally leave such neat canine tooth marks."

"Well shit, you got me there Wagenbach," Vic laughed, "I bow to your superior expertise on animal attacks. Or have you decided this is another one of your sex victims? Wait, I know, animal sex attacks!" Vic laughed loudly.

Dutch was irritated, "No, but our investigation has just started so I have no conclusions just yet."

"Well you get 'im Dutch-boy, I'm gonna go and solve some real crime." As he turned to go he noticed the man being attended to in the back of the ambulance. "Wait a minute, who's that?"

"That would be Dewayne Washington, the victim's son. He found his mother in this condition and called it in."

Vic's eyebrows shot up. "Dewayne is better known on the streets as 'Gunny', and he never was a Marine neither."

Claudette looked up, "That's 'Gunny' Washington? Arms supplier to the drug trade? Do you have anything on him that'll stick?"

"Nuthin'," replied Mackey, "he might as well be coated with greased Teflon. I got nothin' but unsubstantiated rumor on him, so far at least." Vic looked at the victim again, "It still looks like an animal attack to me, but keep an eye out in case it's something more, ah, gang related, would you? And I'll roust some of my contacts and see what I can find."

Claudette frowned as she watched Mackey drive away. "Hell, I wish he would..." She trailed off rather than voice her complaints.


BtVS Cast:

Buffy Summers... Sarah Michelle Gellar

Dawn Summers... Michelle Trachtenberg

Faith Lehane... Eliza Dushku

Alexander (Xander) Harris... Nicholas Brendon

Willow Rosenberg... Alyson Hannigan

Rupert Giles... Anthony Stewart Head

Kennedy... Iyara Limon

Riley Finn... Marc Blucas

The Shield Cast:

Captain David Aceveda... Benito Martinez

Detective Vic Mackey... Michael Chiklis

Detective Shane Vendrell... Walton Goggins

Officer Julien Lowe... Michael Jace

Detective Holland "Dutch" Wagenbach... Jay Karnes

Officer Danielle "Dannie" Sofer... Catherine Dent

Detective Claudette Wyms... CCH Pounder

Corrine Mackey Cathy... Cahlin Ryan

Detective Curtis "Lemonhead" Lemansky... Kenny Johnson

Detective Ron Gardarki... David Rees Snell

Cassidy Mackey... Autumn Chiklis

Captain Monica Rawlings... Glenn Close

Antwon Mitchell... Anthony Anderson

Detective Tavon Garris... Brian J. White

Lauren Riley... Natalie Zea