Disclaimer: I do not own NCIS/Supernatural.

a/n: I actually was bored at school during class and just wrote the first two paragraphs on my binder so I didn't even know it was going to be a story until I was bored during lunch and then Native Studies. The story below is what was the result. I also think this is the very first Tim McGee/Dean Winchester story.

Hope you enjoy and I would just love it if you would review it! :)

One of Those Days: Chapter 1

It was one of those days, you know? The day where nothing goes the way you planned. Yup, that's the one. And that was the type of day it turned out to be for Timothy McGee, NCIS Special Agent.

It started out good enough: he awoke bright and early, more energized than in the past week. He ate a big breakfast loaded with calories, and decided that: Since he was up earlier than usual and felt some what giddy, he would take Jethro (his McMutt) for an extra long run that morning. He hadn't the time to run with him lately and Tim figured this extra long run would more than make up for it. There was always the plus that Jethro would be all tuckered out for the dog sitter.

The ground was wet and slick under his running shoes, it had rained last night—and, looking up at the sky it looked like one of those dreary days. DiNozzo hated them; always ending up with wet socks. But Tim on the other hand, liked them. When it rained it was like the streets were being cleansed of all the sin from past days, and it's reborn when the rain dries.

Tim only paid mind enough to his surroundings to keep from splashing in the puddles; Jethro, on the other hand really didn't give a crap, as long as he was with his Human, he was content. Every time he thumped through a puddle, a splash of water would rise and catch Tim's pant leg, soaking his shins and shoes in the process—So much for trying to avoid puddles, he thought riley.

Suddenly feeling nervous, Tim slowed down to a stop, Jethro stopping with him—panting with his tongue hanging willy-nilly out the side of his mouth.

Not knowing why he was so nervous, Tim looked around the park noticing for the first time that the park was deserted. How had he not noticed this before? Maybe, the voice in his head (sounding disturbingly like DiNozzo) said, it's because when you got here, there were people, but gradually they went away. The cars, too, the voice pointed out. And it was true, not a passing car in sight. Hit gut churned and he knew that he should get out of there, and get out of there now!

He was about to tug on Jethro's leash to get the dog moving, when a low growl rumbled through his throat into the still air.

That was when some hell broke loose.

Jethro yelped as something pierced his skin and by the time a very freaked out McGee could find out what had caused it, Jethro had wobbled on his feet before falling to the wet grass. Tim pulled a dart from Jethro's thigh, inspecting it closely as adrenalin rushed throughout his body, all his senses alert for any movement or sound. The dart looked like one of the ones that could be shot from a tranquilizer gun. And for both his and Jethro's sake, he hoped it was just that—tranquilizers.

He wished he had his gun, but what help would that be to him anyway? It's not like he could see his enemy. Nor did he have a cell phone on his person to call for help with. And would backup be there in time or would he just become the one of many bodies on Ducky's table?

Tim craned his head around to look at the surrounding woods, from his crouched position by Jethro he was out in the open. There was a tree about twenty yards away that he could use for cover. It was a probability of fifty-fifty chance that he would make it.

Just as he was readying himself for a grab and run, he felt a pinch on no other than his ass, which happened to be sticking in the air. Before he could pull the offending dart out, he could feel two more sharp pinches as two more darts landed home.

The effects were almost instantaneous; he felt dizzy and his limbs started to feel like lead. His stomach rolled and he wanted so much to puke that he gagged but nothing came up. His eyelids felt heavy and with each blink they stayed closed even longer. His mind was fogging up, he tried to fight it but his body had never needed to become immune to this sort of this.

So he was helpless as he fell hard onto his knees, the gravel poked through the thin material of his track pants and dug into his sensitive flesh of his knees. He wanted to yell for help but his tongue had gone numb.

As he slumped forward into the dirt beside Jethro, the crunching of gravel beneath boots met his ears. He probably would have tensed if the drugs hadn't made his body so relaxed.

A blurry pair of steel toe boots came into his line of sight, a soft grunt and a man was kneeling in front of him. The man's face was slightly blurry for Tim, so he had to squint his forest green eyes to clear the image.

From what he could tell: His soon to be capture looked to be in his late twenties, maybe a few years older than Tim himself. Emerald green eyes. Short, spiky dirty blond hair. A chin full of stubble. He wore blue jeans, a black t-shirt, dark green button up shirt, with a leather jacket over all of that. From around his neck hung a necklace that swung back and forth so Tim couldn't make out what it was of. Tim also noticed that he had a ring too, as the man's hands came towards his face. He flinched as the hand made contact, Tim was expecting the slight sting of a slap. But he opened his slightly unfocused and looked at the man in confusion.

The man had not hit Tim, but instead was had cupped his cheek, his thumb rubbing soothing circles on Tim's pale face—and that baffled him. Tim felt the man's other hand trail lightly over his back before he felt the darts being pulled free, the man stored them in his jacket pocket. His butt stung from the three darts and he knew that he had bled some; those darts were pretty big.

Tim knew he probably should have freaked when the guy started to tug down his pants, but how could you panic when your body and mind were so relaxed? The guy spit in his hand before smearing it on the three bloody pricks on Tim's ass. Tim felt a hot burn and winced, before his face relaxed into that of bliss as the burning went cool. The man pulled Tim's pant's back up and carded a hand through his hair in a comforting motion.

Tim knew he should have been scared out of his mind. He and his dog had just been shot with darts and some guy just pulled his pants down and basically spit on his ass. Who knew what he was going to do to him, what he was going to do with Jethro? But as Tim laid with his head in the stranger's lap, fingers carding through his hair—he felt safe, like he did with Gibbs. Though there was something different about this feeling, something more…

And as he eye's slid closed, "I've been waiting for you for a very long time, Tim." Was whispered in his ear with such promises that a shiver slid down his spine. He let darkness take him as he felt breath against his skin and a ghostly kiss against his temple.

Note: I hope you enjoyed, please comment!

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