Supernatural: Fallen Son

Frozen Food

Before he could even say 'crap', Dean found himself being stuffed into the back of the truck by two more identical men. They were both unnaturally tall, completely bald; and their skin was a worrying shade of blue - like a recently dead corpse. 'Hey! I have rights!' He mumbled. Ingrid simply looked at him, and cocked his smooth head to one side. 'Not anymore, Mr Winchester. We're with a government agency, and we can do whatever we please. You are now under federal custody, and so an immediate, indefinite suspension of your rights will follow.'
Dean pounded his fists against the heavy black doors that had just been closed into his face. Looking around the inside of the truck, he saw symbols painted onto the walls of his prison - spirals and sigils of some-kind...
Strangely, though, this was spellwork that Dean hadn't ever seen before. Tentatively, he reached out and tapped one of them - and rubbed his fingers together afterwards. They were drawn in a material that felt like snow.
Anyhow, rights or no rights - Dean was going to have his phone call. Plucking his mobile straight out of his pocket, he dialled Sam's number as quickly as he could. However, as he typed - the screen began to grow colder. 'Dammit' - Ice crystals spread across the screen and stung his fingers. He dropped the phone and shivered in accordance to the sudden temperature drop.

Clutching his leather coat closer to his face, he quivered - seeing his own breath condense in front of him. 'Cmon, Sammy.' He mumbled in between teeth-chattering. It only took one more lowering of the temperature before Dean slipped into unconsciousness.

Meanwhile, Sam slammed a book of lore shut. He had found the answer to what the Men in Black were - and Dean wasn't going to like it. Grasping for his phone, underneath a small pile of dusty books, he looked at the display. 'One missed call from Jerk'. Either that was another oni, or Dean needed him. Sam thought that the latter was more likely.
Sketching down some sigils and other symbols onto a notepad, Sam packed a small satchel and threw it over his shoulder. With an uncomfortable lurch of Trial Fever, he inched his way towards the door of the bunker.

When Dean woke up, he chittered out an exclamation of profanity when he realised that he was chained up. Two hooks were implanted into his chest, but he wasn't bleeding. The flesh around the wounds was frozen solid. He looked around, and saw another, female, figure - chained up similarly next to him. Her skin was blue, and glimmering veins that looked like ice cackled along beneath it. 'Hello!?' Dean screamed out, to see who (or what) replied - and to gauge where they were. Taking another look down at his chest - Dean was completely aware that he would bleed out before he got anywhere vaguely near escaping. Next, he turned his head towards his fellow captive. 'Beatty?' He asked, assuming that this was the person who had gone missing previously.
Beatty moved her head towards Dean weakly, and looked at him with bloodshot eyes. Her chest just ever so slightly rose and fell - at a sluggish pace. Those monsters had done a real number on her.
'Okay. I'm gonna get us out of here. But, first, can you tell me what happened? Do you know where we are?' Dean inquired gently, still slightly worming his wrists around in the restraints and trying to find a way out.
'No. Are we on a spaceship?' Beatty groaned deliriously.

Dean growled in frustration under his breath.