Challenge 7 - No worries, we still have time


Dean cursed viciously as cold water rose up to his shoulders. He shivered violently, and steeled himself against the pain in his extremities.

He was running out of time.

Grabbing the bars over his head, Dean hammered against them with all his strength in a desperate attempt to dislodge the lock that held him prisoner in the freezing, water-filled pit.

He could hear the padlock rattle from his efforts, but it never loosened against the onslaught of his frantic efforts to escape.

He gasped from his exertions as he once again tried to find another way out of the death trap in which he was imprisoned.

And it was most certainly a death trap.

The bodies of three other people had been the first sight that had greeted Dean upon regaining consciousness in the hole. The bloated and decaying bodies were horrific even to the seasoned hunter and the knowledge that he would soon be just like them spurred him to an even greater need to free himself.

As far as he could see, there was no way out.

Water poured in from a pipe near the top of the pit. Dean had tried to stop the flow of water by plugging the hole with his shirt, but the pipe was too large. He had nothing else - no weapons, no tools, no cell phone - just a pit and a bunch of dead people and an increasingly-likely watery demise that was getting Dean more than a little worried.

He wasn't sure how long he'd been in the pit before regaining consciousness, but it had only been about half an hour since the water had started rushing in.

Only half an hour and it was already to his shoulders.

Sam would be looking for him, of that Dean was certain. He had left his brother a message letting him know roughly where he was going, he just didn't know if his brother would be in time.

Dean cursed again. It wasn't a way he'd ever thought he'd go out. He'd always imagined going down in a fight or at the very least, with a weapon in his hand. Instead, he was trapped and it was a regular human serial killer who was to blame.

The brothers had come to North Carolina on the belief that they were dealing with a creature of some sort - something that hunted on a cycle of three years, taking four or five people before disappearing for another three years.

Dean had thought he'd been interviewing a witness to one of the abductions, but Rick Clayton had ended up being much more than that.

He had agreed to show Dean where the incident had taken place, guiding the hunter to a derelict farm out in the middle of nowhere.

Dean had been so convinced that he had been dealing with something paranormal, it hadn't been until after Clayton tasered him and dropped him unconscious in a hole that he realized everything had been the work of one sadistic psychopath.

Clayton had taken great joy in Dean's horrified rage at the fate of the three people he and Sam had sought to rescue. The murderer promised Dean a terrible death and place in his collection of victims, a thought that brought red-hot rage running through Dean's veins.

Clayton hadn't even stuck around to watch Dean's struggle for freedom. He'd left The hunter locked in the pit and about fifteen minutes after that, the water had started coming in - water that was over his shoulders now.

Something bumped into him and Dean was reminded once again that there were bodies floating alongside him in the too-small pit. Not that having more space would have made it better.

Dean shook the bars again, cursing in frustration.

"Dean?"

The call sounded far away, and for a moment, Dean wasn't sure that he hadn't imagined it. Then he heard it again.

"Sammy? I'm here!"

There were scuffling sounds from somewhere out of sight and the heavy fall of footsteps hurrying down wooden steps. Dean stuck his hand out through the bars to make sure his brother didn't miss him.

As if Sam would be able to miss a giant metal grate in the cellar floor.

Sure enough, Sam's face came into view, peering into the pit where the water lapped at Dean's chin.

"Dean! Are you okay? What the hell?"

"Sam, it's Clayton! He's a freakin' serial killer! Watch your back!"

If Clayton got his brother, they were both done for.

"It's okay, Dean," Sam answered, already pulling out his lockpick. "The guy was outside when I got here. He attacked me and I had to take him down. He's not hurting anyone else."

There was a slight catch in Sam's voice, something that came up whenever the brothers had to kill a human. Even when that person was a murderer, Sam would feel the weight of that terrible deed.

Dean wished that he could have been the one to take Clayton out - both to save his brother from having to kill a person and for his own personal sense of revenge. The man had left him to drown, after all.

Speaking of which . . .

"Don't suppose you can hurry it up with that lock, can you?" Dean sputtered as the water covered his mouth and he was forced to tilt his head back to keep it out of the water. The top of his head was pressed against the bars and he was running out of space. He needed out, and he needed out now.

Sam's face paled and he looked down at Dean with wide eyes.

"He superglued the lock."

Dean's heart skipped a beat. "Wanna run that by me again?"

"He put superglue in the lock!" The tension in Sam's voice sent a jolt of fear running through Dean's body. "Dean, I can't pick this - I need the bolt cutters."

The water was getting higher and Dean was running out of space to breathe. He could practically feel the strain in Sam as he suggested leaving his brother, even for a moment.

There was nothing else he could do, though, and they both knew it.

"No worries, we still have time," Dean joked, trying to sound nonchalant. Judging by Sam's expression, he failed miserably.

"I'll be quick," Sam promised.

And then he was gone.

Dean shivered in the cold water and tried not to think about the fact that he was essentially bathing in a soup of dead people. His stomach clenched at the thought.

The water rose higher and Dean was soon pressing his face against the bars.

He was running out of time and where the hell was Sam?

"Dean!" Sam's voice was loud and just-this-side of panicked. "Hang on!"

Dean couldn't answer. If he opened his mouth, it would be filled with freezing cold water and anything else that was lurking in it with him -

and then he was fully underwater, his brother's form an indistinct and blurry shape above him.

For a moment, he remained calm; tried to tell himself that he'd be out in a second.

But something was wrong. He wasn't free yet. Maybe the lock was too thick . . . maybe it was bolted down in another way, too . . . maybe Sam just couldn't get him out -

The need for air had Dean's lungs burning.

He couldn't breathe!

Dean's hands gripped the bars, shaking them as desperation filled him.

He couldn't think past the building panic.

He barely noticed as the bars were pulled up, yanking Dean from the water as his iron grip kept him attached to his prison grate.

Hands clenched around his arms, tugging him from the water until he was lying in a gasping, freezing heap on the floor.

Sam was calling to him, fear evident in his voice even though Dean couldn't make out the words over the sound of his own frantic coughing.

The younger hunter's hands still clutched Dean's arms, supporting him as he finally got his racing heart and heaving breathing under control. The air cleared his vision and he managed to get Sam into focus.

Dean patted his little brother's leg, letting a relieved smile cross his face.

"Nice timing, Sammy."