This story started out as a prompt from a friend, a game to get my SPN creative juices flowing once more as I would more then anything like to complete my other story, When The Children Cry. Why she chose a SPN/LWD crossover is beyond my realm of knowledge as she is well aware that I have never written a LWD story before, nor are crossovers my area of expertise. So please correct any errors you see and be honest in your reviews.

Thanks! =]

"I've had my run,

Baby, I'm done,

I gotta go home.

Let me go home.

It will all be all right,

I'll be home tonight,

I'm coming back home…"

-Home, Michael Bublé

He had to get to her.

It was all he could think about.

Not what had just happened, or what was going to happen next.

Not what it meant, for her, or for them.

He didn't care about any of that.

He just needed her.

The fear wrapped around his windpipe with a steel grip wouldn't go away for anyone or anything else.

He had to see her, had to talk to her.

More then anything, make sure her heart was still beating in her chest.

She was the only one who could make it better, who could fix it.

The thought of holding her in his arms like when she was a child, her tiny arms wrapped tightly around his neck, was all that was keeping the ever-present panic attack from taking over.

Was it pathetic that he was so reliant on the young girl?

When it came to her, his tough-guy image went out the window. Putty in her little hands, she could get away with anything when it came to him, to either one of them.

He found he didn't care.

He saw her so rarely, and missed her so much the rest of the time, the whole word could know that he was wrapped tightly around her finger, just as long as he could be with her now.

They had stayed away for the majority of her life, visiting only occasionally when in the country, and never staying longer then a few days. He knew their father made that rule solely out of fear for her safety; it nearly killed John sending his girls away, though he had never told his sons why he did.

Bobby had hinted that he knew once or twice, but he never divulged and the brothers never pushed. They had learned at a young age that their sister and her mother were not topics open for discussion. They visited only when in Canada, a rare occurrence and until cell phones and email, were allowed to talk only on the road between jobs.

Now, with texting and other technological advances, they spoke several times a week.

He blinked and his bright green eyes refocused on the dark highway that seemed to stretch out into forever. His head hurt from where he had been hit and one of his eyes were swollen shut. He had a busted lip and at least three broken ribs. His left wrist hurt, though he didn't think it was really broken, and he could feel the bruises forming all over his sore body. He couldn't remember ever getting so messed up on the job.

He only hoped he could stay with it long enough to get them both there in once piece.

Glancing over at his baby brother who was passed out in the seat next to him, he felt bile rise into his throat. The younger man was even worse off then he was. He had been knocked on the head several times, messed up his leg and had a large knife wound on his side that was going to need stitches. He had even considered taking him to the hospital, a big no-no in their line of work, but his brother had been conscious enough at the time to refuse and tell him to take them to her, obviously needing the comfort she provided as much as the other.

Not much longer now.

They hadn't been to her new house yet, the one she moved to after her mother remarried, and he wasn't exactly sure how to get there but he didn't care less. He would find it solely based on brotherly instinct if he had to.

Usually her voice could do the trick, phone calls and text messages being their primary form of contact ever since their father and her mother parted ways when she was only a few months old. But not this time.

This time they needed to see her in the flesh.

The last fight had nearly killed them and they were both on the brink, emotionally as well as physically, and she was the only one who could bring them back from the edge.

You would think that they would be happy; it was finally over.

All he could think about however, was all the people they had lost along the way. Dad, Mom, their grandparents, Jess, Jo, Ellen, the list was far too long.

Now they needed to see her, even if just to make sure she was safe.

She was all they had left.

It would be nice to see Nora, too. She was the closest thing the brothers had ever had to a mother since the fire.

Green eyes lit up when he saw the sign above the exit.

LONDON

He turned off the highway with one thought running through his mind. I'm coming, Casey.

Casey MacDonald sat at her laptop, staring at her inbox and trying not to cry.

Usually it took her a few days before she would panic, a week before she really got upset. She had only talked to them yeaterday, but now she had a horrible feeling in the pit of her stomach. Something was terribly wrong.

When they had called the other day, they had tried to sound excited. They told her they were coming to town within a few weeks and they couldn't wait to see her. They didn't say anything abnormal or worrisome but there was something in their voices, something off, and it made her nervous.

Now the scared teen had called each of their cell phones numerous times, sent four emails to Sam, and texted them each way too many times to count.

No answer.

Her mother told her she was over reacting, that the boys would call her when they had the chance, but she could tell that she was concerned. She cared for John's boys greatly, and worried about their safety constantly.

She ran a hand over her face and tried to take Lizzie's advice. Focus on the good. The boys were coming to visit. She hadn't seen them since John's death, before her mom's marriage to George.

The brilliant brunette wondered what it would be like when they came to visit. Her true parentage was not something discussed in the Venturi-MacDonald household for obvious reasons. Being the daughter of one of the most notorious hunters in the supernatural world made keeping secrets, even from her stepfamily, a necessity.

Her mother had told her when she was planning on telling George about John. It was right after his death and not very long after the wedding. Nora had told him her father was a bounty hunter who had been killed on the job, not particularly far from the truth when she thought about it, and his two sons were students in the states. George had looked at her strangely for a few days, but never mentioned it to her. Casey was pretty sure Lizzie had told the same lie to Edwin, as he had given her sympathetic looks around the same time, and even did his best to keep Derek off her back for awhile.

Marti probably didn't know, she was too young and off in Marti-Land most of the time, though she could be quite observant at times. But she knew Derek didn't know or it definitely would have come up in one of their fights.

She could hear his voice now, 'Wow, you're such a loser, even your father wants nothing to do with you!'

While Casey had Dennis' name, and he had raised her since her mother had married him when she was three, John Winchester was her father, and she had adored him. They spent every second together when he visited, and he trained her a bit and told her very watered down, as she realized when she got older, tales of his adventures. He was her hero, and his death had deeply affected her.

She had been devastated when John died.

Casey shook those thoughts from her head, knowing that crying over John wasn't going to help her, and stood up from her desk. She had to stop obsessing or she was going to drive herself crazy.

Sleep was out of the question. The normally high-strung girl was much too worked up. She needed a distraction. She was never one for much tv, Ed had broken the game console by accident that morning and after she and Liz had that Lord of the Rings marathon (Orlando Bloom is such a sexy elf!) that afternoon, she was all movied out. She couldn't concentrate long enough to study or read and she had already cleaned her room thoroughly. She could clean the rest of her house or bake, but she didn't want to wake her mom, who needed the rest.

She heaved a sigh. If it was daytime, she would pick a fight with Derek.

As much as she hated to admit it, fighting with Derek was one of her favorite pastimes. Arguments with him made her think fast, and on the rare occasions they turned physical it gave her a chance to roughhouse a bit, even if she had to hold back. While she couldn't really fight him like John had trained her to, it gave her some satisfaction at least.

But even that had stopped in the last few weeks.

Something lately had changed between the two of them. She couldn't quite put her finger on what, and she couldn't exactly say when, but something was definitely different. She first noticed it when he stopped going out of his way to fight her. It wasn't long after that before he started going out of his way to not fight with her. Then he started going out of his way to not be with her altogether, leaving the room when she entered one, going the long way around to get to class and even getting up early so she would have to walk to school. Derek didn't even get up early when he had to get up early.

Casey wasn't sure what she did to receive the unusual treatment, and all common sense told her to just shut up and enjoy it while it lasted, but she couldn't. She was confused, upset, and more hurt then she'd have ever thought possible by his avoidance. It was hard to comprehend, and she would have denied it if asked but she missed him. She missed him more then she liked.

She wasn't sure what any of it ment.

A sudden sound jolted her back to reality.

Several firm knocks on the front door. Upstairs in her room the sound was slightly muffled, but unmistakable.

She glanced at the clock on her nightstand.

3:17 a.m.

What the hell?

Sliding her feet into her slippers, the brunette walked to her door softly and cracked it open. It could be anything, and there were a lot of dangerous anything's out there. She knew firsthand. Probably even more that no one had told her about. She had little training, no weapons and no backup except her 7-month pregnant mother, her untrained pre-teen sister and four oblivious bystanders. She wished they had a dog.

Casey had several choices. She could answer the door and face whatever it was with the little training she had. But that could result in her death, as well as the rest of the family's. She could not answer the door and wait for the thing to break in. Or she could just let Derek go answer it.

Wait, what?

While she had been having her little internal debate, her older stepbrother had woken up and was now proceeding down the stairs, grumbling under his breath in annoyance.

Shit!

"Wait! No, Derek! Come back!" She whispered to him.

He ignored her and continued on his way.

She no longer had a choice. He couldn't imagine what could be lurking behind that door, and had no idea how to protect himself. She, on the other hand, could easily picture what could be on that porch. Casey had heard the stories, listened to the warnings and had on occasion, seen things that could kill her moronic step-brother before he could even blink.

"Derek! Don't!"

The young woman was about halfway down the stairs when the oblivious teen swung the front door open. "What?" He asked, rudely.

Casey didn't say anything about his attitude. In fact, the hockey player could have danced around the living room singing Get Low in nothing but one of Marti's tutu's and Casey probably wouldn't have said a single word.

Her blue eyes were glued to the two men in the doorframe.

Broken, bloody, bruised, and barely standing, the shorter one half carried, half dragged his brother to the door.

Though the taller one appeared unconscious, the other ignored the young man looking at them expectantly, focusing solely on Casey. He cracked what appeared to be a painful smirk. "Hey there, cutie pie."

"Dean? Sammy?"

A/N: See that little button down there... the one that says review... yea! You wanna press that for me? Thanks! =]