This story is for Swellison. She was my second high bid in the SupportStacie auction from last April. She graciously matched the high bid and asked me to write a Supernatural/NCIS crossover story. I thank her for her infinite patience. I was going to do this all in one shot, but I changed my mind and decided to post it in a couple of parts. Writing has been particularly hard lately, and I just really felt the need to get something out there.

Hope this lives up to expectations!



All standard disclaimers apply. I own nothing related to either Supernatural or NCIS.

Crossed Paths

By: Vanessa Sgroi

"What's the town we're looking for, Sam? Cesspool?"

Sam Winchester snorted. "Drestpul, Dean. Drestpul, Virginia. We shouldn't be too far away now."

"Good. 'Cause I can't take anymore driving in this weather." Dean's fingers were tightly clenched around the steering wheel hard enough to bleach his knuckles white. His gaze was focused intently on the sheets of rain obscuring the dark road in front of them. It was just cold enough that the rain was changing to sleet trending to wet snow. Being Virginia though, Mother Nature could quite make up her mind so the rain, sleet, and snow alternated, making for a tense and slippery ride. Dean's shoulders were tight and a headache lurked behind his eyes. He would've rubbed his temples wearily but didn't want to take a hand off the wheel. As if to prove his caution justified, the Impala hit a patch of black ice and fishtailed. He corrected her course with a grunt.

A few seconds later, Sam exclaimed, "Hey, Dean, look. There's a car broken down by the side of the road."


"And we have to stop. See if we can help."

"I knew you were going to say that." In truth, Dean would've pulled over anyway, but he couldn't do so without some requisite crabbiness. It was expected of him. He passed the car in question, eased the Impala over to the side of the road, and backed up carefully until they were a few feet away from the other vehicle. "You might as well stay here." Dean opened his door and eased out into the night, wincing as icy needles pricked his face. He rolled his eyes in mock consternation when he heard the passenger door squeal as Sam exited. Knew he wouldn't listen. To be fair, it was good to know Sam had his back just in case this situation went south. The pair approached the man they saw hunched under the hood.

"Hey," Dean called out, "looks like you've run into some trouble here. Need some help?"

Tony DiNozzo straightened and squinted at the two strangers. Cop instinct automatically kicked in as he eyed them both. Sensing no immediate threat, Tony muttered, "Yeah. Damn thing made a popping noise, sputtered and died as I was pulling over to the shoulder."

"Want me to take a look?" offered Dean, "I'm pretty good with cars."

"Yeah, I am too actually. Which is why this really pisses me off. I honestly think this piece of crap is DOA. But if you wanna take a look, be my guest."

"Got a flashlight?"

"I did. Until it died on me just before you pulled up."

"I've got one. Let me grab it." Dean grabbed a flashlight from the Impala's trunk and hurried back to the disabled vehicle. After a few minutes of poking around and not-so-hopeful grunting, he straightened and looked at Tony. "I think you're right, it's pretty much DOA." Dean looked up when the passenger side door opened and another man got out, joining them in front of the car.

"Still no luck, Tony."

A strong gust of sleet-laden wind twisted around them, pinging against glass and metal. All four men shivered hard and hunched forward against the onslaught.

"I figured as much," muttered Tony, replying to both Dean and Tim simultaneously. "I don't suppose either of you can get a cell signal?" Tony gestured to the younger man who'd just joined them. "McGee and I both have been trying for a while now."

Both brothers pulled their cells from their coat pockets and checked.

Dean shrugged. "Nope."

Sam nodded. "Same here."

Tony ran a hand down his face and through his hair, slicking away the moisture gathering there. "Great. Crappy ending to a crappy day."

"Hey, listen," said Sam, "we're heading into Drestpul. We can give you a ride if you want." The younger Winchester ignored the quick, fiery glare Dean sent in his direction.

DiNozzo's eyes widened in appreciation. "Hey, thanks! Sure beats spending the night freezing our asses off in the car. Right, McGoo?"

"Um, well, I…" Tim eyed the two strangers and glanced at Tony who gave an almost imperceptible nod, putting the younger agent at ease. "Yeah, that'd be great. Maybe we can find a phone then."

While Tony lowered the hood, McGee grabbed their black backpacks, his laptop case, and the keys from the car, tossing Tony's to him along with the keys. The four men headed for the Impala.

Getting his first good look at the sleek, classic car these guys had arrived in, Tony whistled appreciatively. "Oh, man, will you look at this car? A '67 Impala!" DiNozzo caressed the rear quarter panel with two fingers, leaving two runners in the slush. Shiny black paint momentarily gleamed. "A 427 ci/390 horsepower engine. Zero to 60 in 8.4 seconds. Runs the quarter mile in 15.8 seconds at 86.5 miles per hour!"

Dean was impressed and found himself relaxing a bit. He liked this Tony guy already. "So you weren't kidding. You do know something about cars." He smiled. "She's a beauty, isn't she?"

"She is at that."

As they all gratefully slid into the car, Tony and Tim in the back and Sam and Dean in their respective seats in the front, Dean said, "Sorry it's a little messy back there. Me and my brother, Sam," he paused and pointed, "we spend a lot of time on the road. I'm Dean, by the way."

"Tony DiNozzo."

"Timothy McGee."

Introductions made all around, Dean cranked the heat up and eased the car back out onto the increasingly slick road.

"So," started Tim, looking between the two brothers in the front seat, "you guys are on the road a lot, huh? What is it that you do?"

It was Sam who answered. "We're…investigators. Private investigators. Mostly we find…things for people."

"Yeah, you know," interjected Dean, "like lost wedding rings, heirlooms. Sometimes we're even asked to find people. It's kinda like our family business." Dean eyed Tony and Tim in the rearview mirror, taking in their suits and trench coats. "So, what about the two of you? Lemme guess—insurance salesmen? Mormon missionaries?"

Tony laughed. "Nah. Actually, we're Federal agents." His shrewd gaze didn't miss the ever-so-slight tensing of Dean's shoulders or the way it was mirrored in Sam's profile.