Measured though they are, Dean's breaths are loud in the sudden silence, too loud, and Dean is halfway to twisting his head before he remembers that he can't, before his back protests the extra strain and sends him up on his toes.

"Fuck," Dean exhales in a hiss, dropping down again, hanging hard to the chains until the spike of dizzy adrenaline fades. His back feels shredded - and Dean would know - the burning ache bone deep where it's not gone numb. It feels...better.

"Can't be tired yet," he calls.