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The back of Dean’s head throbbed as he came to, blinking his eyes open with a groan. The ringing in his ears was fading as the floor came into focus. He was upright, tied to some metal rack thing by leather straps, buckled - he blinked away flashbacks of The Rack in Hell.
He was shirtless, his chest littered with bandaid-like patches, each one with wires protruding from them, disappearing around the back of the rack where he couldn’t see.
“...ean? Dean.” The familiar voice of Sammy floated through, directly in front of him. “Dean, don’t move.”
He frowned. Don’t move? His neck ached from his head hanging against his chest for so long, and he lifted his head to frown at his brother.
Immediately, a shockwave of agony flared in his chest, causing his body to seize. He gasped, almost blacking out and flinging his head back to slam against the rack.
The pain stopped and his body went limp in pained relief, panting, keeping his head back against the rack. He kept his eyes closed until the aftershocks died down, then blinked them open. The room was blurry and he blinked it into focus.
“Dean? Oh, god, Dean? Can you hear me?”
Dean grunted in recognition as Sammy’s figure finally came into focus. He was tied to a chair directly in front of Dean, wrists tight against the arms. His hands were clenched and his eyes glistened with unshed tears.
“Okay, okay, good. Dean, listen to me.” Dean frowned, his erratic heartbeat sending achy pulses across his entire body, worse at the back of his head. It made it very hard to focus.
“Dean, you gotta stay awake, okay? You might have a concussion.” Dean blinked the room back into focus and nodded.
The shockwave started again, hitting Dean’s heart like a harsh kick to the back, knocking the air right out of him as he seized once again. His vision went white with pain, and he couldn’t tell if the screams he was hearing were him or Sammy.
Consciousness flitted away, coming back with a slam. Sammy was talking to him, his voice muffled against the bloodrush in his ears. His chest ached with each harsh thump of his heart.
Each panting breath hurt like a bitch, like something was sat on his chest, cracking his ribs, crushing his lungs.
He blinked his eyes open against the killer headache behind his eyes, the back of his head still firmly against the rack. Sammy, once again, came into view.
“Dean, don’t move, okay? Just don’t move, don’t nod, don’t even twitch, okay?” Sammy sounded desperate, distressed, and Dean frowned again. He hoped he wasn’t the cause for his baby brother’s tears.
“Okay, blink twice for yes, three times for no, okay? We can’t risk talking. Do you understand?”
Dean blinked twice. He didn't understand, not really. Where the fuck was he? Why couldn’t he move?
“Okay, okay, cool.” Sammy adjusted his position. “Dean, listen to me. We were kidnapped, knocked out, and taken here. You’re tied to a rack that’s motion-sensored, okay? Any movement and it sends an electric current through you - not enough to kill you but enough to hurt. Understand?”
Dean frowned, taking in the information. The last thing he remembered was having a beer with Sammy on Baby’s hood, then everything was fuzzy.
“Dean? You understand me?” Dean blinked, then remembered what he was asked to do, and blinked twice.
Sam sighed. “Great, awesome. Unfortunately, I haven’t the foggiest where we are or how long we’ve been here. I woke up like this about an hour before you, had a nice chat with Piggy-” Piggy? “-who explained about as much as I told you, except with a lot more insane laughing and snorting.” Sam grimaced, flexing his fingers. “I’ve tried to pray to Cas but he’s still MIA.”
Dean let out a breath, slowly, not wanting another shock. He tried to think, but the throbbing in his head was extremely distracting.
Scanning the room, he quickly deduced they were in some sort of backroom, a warehouse judging by the logo sticker on the far wall - Kanen’s Snouts and Sausages . There was a cartoon pig guzzling a string of comically large sausages next to the writing. Half the sticker was peeled off with age, cutting off half of the pig’s head.
There wasn’t much in the room besides the rack and chair he and Sammy were tied to. A broom here and there, a set of shelves holding things like cloths and spray bottles. A growing patch of black mould grew in the corner, crawling up the grey walls. A single flickering light bulb hung low between Dean and Sam, fluttering its orangey glow pathetically. There was another source of light coming from behind Dean, glowing faintly white, no doubt the source of electricity. Overall, Dean was disappointed to have been taken to a place so boring.
Dean steeled his head, then spoke. “This is dull.” He let out a sigh that the movement of his lips didn’t trigger the motion sensor.
Sam also seemed relieved. “Must not be a very good one, only detecting major movements.”
“Yep.” It was awkward - Dean was very expressive with how he talked, so being restricted to nothing but lip movement was strange. Dean wet his lips. “You okay, Sammy?”
Sam glanced at him, then let out a huff of a laugh. “You’re the one tied to an electric rack, one which has already shocked you twice, and you’re asking if I’m okay?”
When Dean held his gaze, Sam sighed. “Yes, Dean, I’m good.”
“Give me a run through.”
“Dean-”
“Just do it, man.” Dean threw his best ‘I’m your big brother, do what I say’ look his way.
Sam rolled his eyes, then began a run through of his injuries. “I got hit ‘round the back of the head like you did, so that hurts a little. Obviously, rope burn.” He flexed his fingers, gesturing to how they were tied down. “And, uh…” Sammy frowned, looking down at himself. “Oh, yeah, little cut on my neck from when Piggy threatened me earlier.”
Sam lifted his head so Dean could see the small red line on his neck. Dean hummed. “You sure that’s it?”
“Yep.” Sam lowered his head, looking back at Dean. “Now you.”
Dean rolled his eyes but obliged. “Like you said, hit to the back of the head but I don’t think it’s serious enough to cause like a concussion or anything. And, obviously-” He flickered his eyes down, indicating the best he could to his situation. “-been electrocuted twice now. That was fun.” He stifled a groan against the pain behind his eyes.
“That it?”
“As far as I know.” Dean smirked.
The door behind Sammy opened, and Dean squinted as his eyes were assaulted with daylight. A silhouette appeared in the doorway. It’s large form was vaguely human, from the neck down at least, but his head...Dean couldn’t make it out from here. He could, however, make out the large butcher’s knife in his hand.
The thing stepped into the room. Dean’s stomach dropped.
Oh. Piggy .
It was a regular guy with the face of a pig on his head, hollowed out to make a mask. Dean could smell it from here - it’s gaping eyeholes still coated with blood, providing access for the crazed brown eyes of the guy beneath it to peer at Dean with childish delight.
Piggy snorted - fucking snorted - and spoke in a mock high-pitched voice Dean’s only heard when people speak to kids. “Oh, goody!” He put his knife in a belt around his waist and clapped his hands together, springing slightly on the balls of his feet. “The handsome one is awake! I was beginning to think that I had accidentally killed you!” He laughed, a wet, snorting sound slightly muffled by the skin of the fucking pig head.
Sam glared at him. “What do you want? Why did you-” He grunted as Piggy thrust out his elbow, connecting with Sam’s forehead.
“Sa-aaargh!” Dean cried out as him flinging himself forward sent another wave of agony across his body, slamming his head against the rack, hard. His vision went white again, dotted with black. He clenched his fists and gritted his teeth against the shockwaves until it died down, his body twitching with aftershock. Luckily, the thing seemed to need time to recharge, as the twitches didn’t activate it.
Blinking his eyes open, Dean realised that Piggy was fucking giggling, clapping his hands together excitedly. “Ooh, yes! Yes, yes, yes, fun!” He stepped up closer to Dean as he panted, slowly unclenching his fists as the aftershocks died down. “You were so boring when you were sleeping!”
Dean threw him his best glare. “Touch Sammy again and I’ll make sure you die slowly, you son of a bitch.” He spat directly into Piggy’s eye.
The guy squealed, stepping back and rubbing his eye. “That was very mean!” He sounded like a tantruming child, and Dean almost found him entertaining, until he removed his butcher’s knife from his belt. “Piggy doesn’t like mean people.”
Sammy spoke up. “Hey, hey now, don’t do anything stupid-” He was cut off again as Piggy his his temple with the butt end of the knife. Sam grunted as chin hit his chest, and he didn’t look back up.
“Sammy.” Dean yelled, taking all his willpower not to move.
Piggy giggled again. “There! Now it’s just me and the handsome one!”
Dean growled, glaring daggers into Piggy’s eyes. “Who are you, and what do you want?”
Piggy seemed to frown. “Now, that is a tricky question.” He took a seat in Sammy’s lap, making Dean’s heart thump harder in anger. “Well, my name is Piggy. I’ve been working at Kanen’s for thirty years, seven since they closed.” He pulled another smaller knife from his belt and began sharpening the blade of the butcher’s knife. “Aaaaaand, hm-” He stopped, looking at the ceiling, thinking. “And I just want a little fun!” He stood from Sammy’s lap, and Dean grimaced at the lack of response his younger brother gave.
Dean glared harder at Piggy. “Do you have any idea who we are?”
Piggy froze his energetic movements just inches from Dean’s face, and Dean had to resist the urge to throw up at the scent of rotten pig meat. “Hmm, no. Why? You famous or something?” Piggy was studying him, decaying snout millimetres from his own.
Dean frowned as something seemed to dawn in his aching mind. “Wait, you’re human?”
That seemed to catch Piggy off guard. He took a step back, much to the relief of Dean’s nose. “Well, yes, I am. Why wouldn’t I be?” He giggled, replacing the smaller knife into his belt, still gripping the big one.
Dean rolled his eyes, exasperated. “Seriously? After everything, a psychotic human is what ganks me in the end? Seriously, Chuck?” He glared at the ceiling, knowing that God couldn’t hear him but finding it hard to give a shit.
“Maybe he got drunk.” Sammy’s voice was weak but humorous as he met Dean’s gaze, eyes half lidded and unfocused. His temple was bleeding significantly, but Dean knew that head injuries just bled more.
Piggy snorted in annoyance. “What are you guys on about?”
Dean didn’t look at him. “You good, man?”
“Yep.” Sam straightened, then looked at Piggy calmly. “So. Human, huh?”
“Yes, but-”
“Then, no offense, man.” Dean smirked. “But that makes you significantly less scary.”
Piggy squealed. “You want scary? I’ll show you scary!” And he left the room, slamming the door shut, presumably to go get some knew horrific torture device, or something else depressingly mundane.
Sam huffed out another weak laugh. “Human. He’s fucking human.”
Dean glanced down, careful not to move his head, at his restraints. He laughed slightly. “Dude, these straps are so loose, I could easily slip out of them.”
“Yes, but Dean, one movement and you’re shocked again.”
Dean licked his lips nervously, looking back at Sam. “Only once. This thing needs a cool down after each shock, so as long as I can get out before it’s recharged, I should be good.”
Sam rolled his eyes. “Define ‘good’.”
Dean ignored him, taking a deep breath. “Okay, okay, okay.” He held his breath, and pulled his wrists.
The fact that he was expecting it didn’t make it hurt any less. He let out a groan through clenched teeth as the shocks washed over him, squeezing his eyes so tightly shut that he saw stars. His heartbeat was so harsh it felt like someone was punching him in the chest, over and over, and then it stopped.
He huffed in relief as his mind floated, the room spinning. He felt detached, and for a second it was nice, calm, peaceful.
Sammy was shouting his name and he opened his eyes tiredly. He really needed a nap.
“Dean, move! Stay awake! Dean!”
Adrenaline hit him like a truck and he pulled on his restraints. He had no idea how long the recharge was going to take.
His wrist came free on the fourth tug, and he couldn’t help the grin of relief that spread over his face as he unbuckled the other wrist and pulled off all the wires on his chest, beginning to work on his ankles.
“Hurry, Dean!”
He frowned, one ankle free, at the final buckle. It was twisted, knotted, and Dean felt a spark of panic as he yanked on it, taking too long, far too long, any minute now and-
His ankle came free and he hit the floor just as a spark of power flew through him like a static shock, collapsing his knees and sending the room spinning again. His forehead found Sammy’s knees, his chest hurting like a mother fucker.
He knew Sammy was talking to him but his heartbeat was too loud, breath too heavy in his rattling lungs as he sat there, feeling through the aftershocks as they still made his body twitch and tremble.
Sam’s hand was on his shoulder, and Dean couldn’t tell if he was shaking it or if Dean was just shaking that badly.
His voice found him. “Ouch.” He groaned, unable to find a better word to describe how he was feeling.
Sam laughed above him, surprising Dean with how clearly he could hear him as his breathing somewhat slowed. “Yeah, that’s one word for it. Can you move?”
Dean considered this. “Give me a second.”
“Well Piggy could come back any second, so maybe half a second?”
Dean laughed, the ache in his chest turning into a half-arsed coughing fit. Fuck, this hurt.
The coughs died down and Dean took a deep breath, steeling himself. Sam was right, they had to keep moving.
His stomach dropped at the sound of movement outside, and lifted his head. “Oh, fu-”
The door slammed back open, and the cliche horror-movie sound of a chainsaw filled the air. Piggy squealed a hysterical laugh. “Boo!”
Dean stumbled to his shaky knees, just ducking to the side as Piggy swung the chainsaw down, imbedding itself in the floor.
Dean fell heavily against the wall and wracked his brain as Piggy tried to remove the saw from the concrete. This guy was much bigger than him, had a fucking chainsaw, and Dean was already down on energy. He couldn’t use force here.
He looked back behind the rack, and got an idea. A crazy, insane, complete risk of an idea, but an idea.
Piggy freed the saw just as Dean ran behind the rack towards the power controls, knees aching in protest at the sharp movement. He blanched for a second as he stared at the panel, Piggy revving up the chainsaw and running towards him, and he settled for turning all the dials to max and darting (more like tumbling) around the other side just as Piggy swung at him, hitting a wall.
The rack sparked with power, humming loudly as Dean ran to the opposite wall.
“Dean?” Sammy sounded panicked as he stared at the rack, writhing in his seat. “Dean, what are you doing?”
Dean didn’t answer, favouring to save his withering energy as Piggy bolted towards him and he ducked to the side, rolling to dodge the spinning blade. He ran to stand in front of the rack, using all his willpower not to lean against it as Piggy recovered and charged him, lifting the blade up.
Dean waited, waited, and rolled to the side just as Piggy ran straight into the rack.
The sound was horrible - Piggy was squealing in pain as his body spasmed and seized, smoking. The scent of cooking flesh filled the air and Dean gagged as he stumbled to Sammy’s side, untying his ankles and wrists with quivering, numb fingers. The ropes fell and Dean stood, if only just, squinting at his headache.
Piggy screamed, the rack smoking and sparking like it was going to overload and explode any second.
“Dean! Come on!” Sammy shouted over the noise, grabbing Dean’s arm and pulling him into a run as they raced out of the room, away from the noise, away from the pain. Away.
They weaved through the abandoned warehouse, ducking and diving around rusted machines as the torturous sounds faded. Dean stumbled as they ran, knees still shaky, threatening to give out any second. His chest hurt like he had been running for hours, each breath heaving and heavy, scratching the inside of his lungs and throat.
The sound of an explosion burst through the air, shaking the warehouse and causing parts of the roof to crumble and cave in. Portions of thick concrete fell from the fucking sky as they made their way through, the shockwaves of the roof hitting the floor making the floor vibrate, making it even harder to remain on his feet.
They burst through the front doors just as Dean fell into another coughing fit, unable to pull a breath into his lungs. He doubled over as Sam grabbed his forearm, guiding him through a parking lot and towards an old truck.
Dean collapsed against the side, ears ringing and the darkness in the corners of his vision threatening to take over. Sam opened the passenger side door and Dean didn’t bother complaining as he was guided inside. His knees thanked him for the relief as he folded into the seat. His head was fuzzy and far away as the door slammed, his temple resting against the cool window.
Sam ran to the other side and clambered in, immediately working on hot wiring the truck. His little brother cursed as he fumbled with the wires, then let out a sigh of relief as the engine purred to life and Sam pulled out of the parking lot, hurtling down the road.
Dean frowned. “Where’re we goin’?” He mumbled. He was so freaking tired, eyelids heavy with exhaustion and pain.
Sammy’s voice sounded far away. “Away, Dean. Anywhere but there.”
Dean’s heart picked up in panic. “We...we can’t go to’ th’ h’spital, ‘member?”
Sam patted his arm. “Hey, stay awake for me, alright? At least until we get home.”
“Home?”
“The bunker, yeah.”
Dean nodded, relaxing in the uncomfortable seat of the truck. No hospitals, they couldn’t risk it with their faces all over the FBI wanted list.
“Dean, stay awake. I know it’s hard but we can’t risk you falling asleep.”
Dean hummed, blinking his eyes back open. The road was surprisingly abandoned for what Dean guessed was around midday. The engine rumbled surprisingly smoothly for what seemed to be an old rusted pickup truck. Bobby would’ve liked this one.
His heart ached at the thought of his deceased uncle, and he frowned, forcing his thoughts elsewhere.
His vision seemed permanently blurry, occasionally having to blink it out of doubling. The corners of his vision were spotted in fuzzy black dots, slowly creeping over. Not to mention the headache, somehow dwarfing the ache in his whole body, was making it very hard to keep his eyes open, and he found himself having to wrench them open when they closed by themselves.
Sammy was talking to him, probably telling him to stay awake, about how close they were, and other stuff Dean supposed was meant to be comforting and effective in keeping him holding onto his strings of consciousness until they could be sure his fluttering heart wasn’t going to give out. However, despite his trials, despite him giving everything he got, he fell into the darkness, the engine fading into nothingness and dragging the pain with it.