Supernatural crossing over with NCIS is like my life's dream, so yeah, I thought I'd have a go at it. I've got the plot figured out, I just hope I can stay motivated to finish this story, unlike my last try at fanfiction (whoops). Don't expect the updates to be very fast as I am going through exams at the moment (kill me now) but I will do my best. Hope you enjoy.

P.S, do we really have to claim we don't own the shows or characters or anything? I figured that'd be kind of obvious.

Wendy Mills entered her driveway in the blue Sedan, breathing a sigh of relief to be home. She considered asking for some time off work as she unlocked the front door of her recently renovated home. The pay was good and it was nice being able to travel overseas and call it a job, but she just wasn't home enough. She missed her husband.

The middle aged business woman smiled as she walked up the stairs quietly, sliding off her shoes as she went. It was late and she didn't want to wake Roger up. Staff Sergeant Roger Mills, a proud marine due to retire in just a few months. She was already planning what kind of cake to bake him to celebrate. Wendy tip toed into the bedroom, closing the door behind her before realising something was wrong. Her eyes scanned the room without turning the lights on, and spotted a figure beside the bed. Flicking the lights on she saw it was Roger, but this didn't quite comfort her when she took in his stance. Roger was on his knees, arms spread wide apart with his eyes staring widely, crazily at the ceiling. Wendy could have sworn she saw the last trails of some kind of black smoke dissapearing into her husband's mouth, his throat and eyes bulging. It was like he was frozen. Wendy rushed to his side, kneeling in front of him and trying to get his attention.

"Roger! Roger, are you ok? Talk to me!" Wendy patted her beloved husband's face desperately, needing him to look at her. And after a moment, he did. His face slowly lowered to look back at her, his neck creaking as he did so. The staff sergeant stared at her and grinned, a wicked, cocky grin as his eyes slowly warped into a swirling, eerie yellow.

Wendy screamed and stumbled back, away from this thing - for surely it wasn't her Roger. Still kneeling, he waved a hand at her and she was slammed against the wall, causing her to let out a yell of shock and pain. As she slowly slid up, up, up until she was being dragged across the roof, an overpowering scent filled her nostrils, something that smelt strangely like sulphur. And then all she knew was pain as she felt her stomach tear, cut open by an invisible force. Wendy screamed, her hands and feet beginning to burn, like they were on fire. As the flames engulfed Wendy Mills, all she knew was pain and cackling laughter as two yellow eyes stared up at her, enthused glee dancing amongst their depths…

"Sam! Sammy, you with me?" Sam's vision of the room, the woman and Yellow-Eyes blurred and cleared to be replaced with a worried Dean's face and a peeling ceiling behind it. Dean's green eyes shone with worry and frustration. He knew what this was and he wasn't happy about it. Sam slowly raised his head and sat up, Dean helping him all the way. "You alright?"

Sam shook his head and stood up, trying not to sway on his feet. He knew what questions would be on Dean's lips but was in a rush and had no time, other then to blurt out "We've got a problem. Time to go."

Dean nodded and grabbed his duffel bag, already packed as if they hadn't been staying in that same motel for three nights now and headed for the door, keeping an eye on Sam the whole time. His brother had gotten another vision. Which meant something was happening with Yellow-Eyes. He'd kind of figured they had a problem.

This was so not good news.

Tony groaned, frustrated, as he was dragged out of his dream with the blonde and brunette by a persistent buzzing to the side of his head. Sighing, he reached out and grabbed the phone, bringing it up to his ear with his eyes still closed, trying to keep the image of the two girls there.

"Yeah," muttered Tony resignedly.

The beautiful image he was just barely managing to hold onto completely dissolved, unfortunately, at the gruff sound of his boss' voice on the other end.

"Forget the women DiNozzo, they're not real." Damn. Tony could swear Gibbs must be psychic. He was even more convinced by Abby's rant yesterday on all the evidence she'd scrounged up yesterday. She was starting to lean towards Gibbs being a witch. Tony couldn't help but smirk at the image of Gibbs in a pointy hat on a broom.

Gibbs continued, unaware (hopefully) of Tony's train of thought. "We got a case, it's pretty urgent. House fire in the suburbs. The wife's dead and Staff Sergeant Mills is missing."

Tony looked at the clock glowing in the darkness. 3:00am. "And Vance couldn't have waited 3 hours for us to start an investigation? Has all those toothpicks gone to his head?"

"The marine knows some pretty classified stuff. Stumbled across military secrets a few weeks back, a whole load of legal crap's being following him around ever since." Tony could hear the disapproval in Gibbs' voice. Politics would never be a strong suit of his.

"So we gotta make sure no one's drilling the guy for info," finished Tony, picking up the train of thought, "literally or otherwise. Gotcha."

"Mcgee will send you the address. Be there in ten." The line went dead and Tony sighed again, dragging himself out of bed. There was only so far you could get in Washington D.C in ten minutes, unless you were Gibbs or Ziva. But he got up, knowing he had to get his ass into gear. It was most likely this fire wasn't an accident, and the sergeant was most likely in less then friendly hands, with real sensitive info.

This was so not good news.

Ok, short I know, but that's why it's called a Prologue! (I think.) Hope you're willing to stick around for next chapter :)