So ... remember what I said at the start of "By The Book"? Yeah ... same thing here ...


Anyway, she asked for it, and I try to always deliver on requests. So, here you go ...

DISCLAIMER: Well, I had this plan to buy them from CW ... but the fact I have no money, income, or way to contact CW kinda got in the way.

Chapter 1

Dean tossed his shovel into the trunk next to Sam's. Closing the lid he sighed inwardly. This was the third salt and burn that month. Since the only other thing they had come across was a wizard wannabe who's biggest threat was changing the neighbors cat purple, Dean was itching for a real hunt. Poltergeist, werewolf, shape-shifter, he didn't care. Just as long as he didn't have to spend half his time in the library and the other half trudging through grave yards, he would be fine.

"Hey Sammy," Dean called across the roof of the Impala, "what do you say we hit a couple of bars for some R&R?"

"I don't know, Dean." Sam shrugged. "Why don't-"

He suddenly screamed in pain, dropping to the ground.

"SAM!" Dean yelled, rushing to his brother's side.

The younger hunter lay beside the car, breathing heavily, his face contorted in pain.

"Sam what's-"

Dean caught site of a pair of wires, going from his brother to the shadows. Dean had just enough time to recognize the tazer leads, before pain ripped through his body and he collapsed next to Sam. Son of a b*^%#! He gasped, weakly reaching for the pins sticking out of his side.

"Move one more inch and I'll zap you again." A gravely voice hissed.

Looking up, he saw two large men standing over him, each holding a tazer.

"On your stomach, now." The larger of the two ordered.

"I thought you told me not to move." Dean grunted.

The smaller on clamped down on the trigger of his tazer, sending a jolt of pain through his side.

"Leave him alone." Sam growled, pushing himself up a second before falling on his back, his face a mask of agony.

That was it, Dean told himself, it was one thing to hurt him, he could handle himself, but no one hurt his little brother. Kicking as hard as he could, Dean knocked the big guys legs out from under him and moved between the attackers and Sam. First thing he had to do was get the wires off of them, then they could take the guys out. Grimacing as he yanked out the barbed nodes, Dean pulled his gun, keeping his attention on the larger man who was pushing himself back to his feet, the tazer a couple of feet away.

"Surrender now," the attacker sneered, "or else."

"If you didn't notice," Dean shot back, "I'm the one with the gun, and you're the one on your a$*."

"Maybe," he smiled, but I'm in better shape then your baby brother."

His breath caught in his throat and he glanced back to see a third assailant had manged to sneak up on him and now held the barrel of a rifle against the back of Sam's head.

"Drop it," the new guy ordered, "unless you want to be cleaning brains off this nice car of yours."

Without another choice, Dean put his gun down and raised his hands.

"On your stomach." The big guy repeated.

When he didn't move right away, the third gun stepped towards him, forcing Sam's head forward with the barrel of the rifle.

"Don't make us tell you again." The little one hissed.

"Alright," Dean snapped, "just take it easy."

Laying down, he could hear Sam doing the same thing. He had barely had time to feel the zip-ties slipping around his wrist then a sharp pain exploded across the back of his head and everything went black.

As Dean slowly krept back to consciousness, the first thing he was aware of was a splitting headache and a blinding white light. As the memories of what happened came flooding back, Dean forced his body to sit up, scanning the small white room for a mop of brown hair, breathing a sigh of relief when he saw Sam sprawled on a cot that lined the wall parallel to his own.

"Sammy?"He called, reaching over to check on his brother. "You okay?"

Mumbling something unintelligible, Sam raised his hands to shield his eyes from the harsh florescent lighting.

"Dean? Where are we?"

"Wish I knew." Dean sighed, looking around.

Their prison looked something like the padded rooms in the movies … only without the padding. There were no windows and only one door that didn't appear to have any form of knob. Perfect. In fact, aside from the cots, the only things in the room were a security camera in the corner, a speaker in the ceiling, and a flat-screen monitor embedded in the wall next to the door.

"Welcome, Winchester brothers." A voice crackled over the speaker. "So glad you came to join us."

"Who are you?" Sam demanded.

"You may call me Dr. Patientia." The voice said pleasantly.

"What do you want with us?" Dean asked, not so pleasantly.

"You'll see." He chuckled, and the speaker went dead.

Sam sat on the edge of his cot and looked up at Dean, a mix of fear and worry shining in his eyes.

"This is bad, Dean." He whispered.

"You're telling me." He muttered back, running his hands around the door-frame.

"No, I mean 'patientia' is Latin."

"Oh yeah?" Dean grunted, shoving briefly against the door. "What's it mean."

"A few different things, but they all basically mean the same thing," Sam started grimly, "long suffering."

Well, there you have it.

If you love it let me know. I always try to update stories that people are enjoying. (NOTE: My most popular stories always get updated first.)

Again, happy birthday Monkey, and I will try to get the next part up ASAP. :)