Frost Giant

                                    

                                          
Sam re-dialled Dean's number. Practically shouting into the voicemail: 'Dean! Dean, they're Jötunns! Frost Giants! Cmon, pick up!' His feet slowly trudged along muddy ground on the roadside - trying to hitchhike. Now he knew how Meg felt. Holding his phone up into the air, he checked for signal - and got full bars. He should he able to reach Dean, which meant that something had happened. Finally, a white taxi rolled up beside him and rolled down its window. A man with a thick, black beard looked through the hatch at Sam. 'Where ya going toh?' He drawled in a Texas accent. 'Hmm. Roswell?' Sam inquired nervously. 'Yeah, sure. Geddin.' The man replied, seemingly happy to drive him along the interstate. 
Sam nodded in a confused sort of thankfulness, and opened the light grey-white door. Sitting himself down on the leather seat in the back of the taxi, Sam enveloped himself within his laptop. He'd taken a scanned copy of a few of the lore books back at the bunker, and so stared through them to try and find a way to kill a Jötunn. 
                          
Meanwhile, Dean was still subtly wrestling with the chains around his wrists, even when one of the monsters entered the chamber. She was had completely blue skin, like a glacier on two legs; burning red eyes, and also seemingly heavily pregnant. Her swollen feet padded along the ground towards Beatty, and she smiled an obtuse grin. Reaching out with a single one of her clawed fingers, she cut down Beatty's face - who just shivered weakly. The monster then licked her face tauntingly, seemingly enjoying the taste of her blood. 
'Hey! Hey Icicle!' Dean yelled, kicking his feet outwards agains the chains around his ankles. He immediately regretted this decision, when Ingrid Cold appeared from within the doorway and walked, calmly and calculatedly, towards him. Dean shivered slightly from the cold of the room - and then failed to recoil in time before Ingrid grabbed him by the face. 
                          
Cold smiled wryly. 'I see that you've met my wife. Beautiful, isn't she?' He drawled whilst stroking the lines of Dean's brow. 'What are you?' Dean spat. Ingrid looked mockingly shocked. 'What, you don't believe that we're government agents, Mr Winchester?' He laughed slightly, breaking his poker face, and blowing ice crystals onto Dean's cheek. 
                          
Sam closed his laptop, and saw the 'Welcome to the home of the UFO Crash' sign roll past outside his left window, and felt the taxi stop with a grating motion. 'And that'll be $24.21' Announced the driver, laying his hands onto his steering wheel. Sam begrudgingly handed him the seemingly inflated sum of money - and left the car with a forced smile. 
Looking around the dusty town, he could see almost endless amounts of derelict trailers and caravans - each with inflatable little green men adorning their every orifice. With a brief lurch of Trial Fever, Sam dug through his satchel and pulled out a couple of scraps of metal. 
It wasn't much, but it should attract an MIB or two. From Plutus' auction, Sam had somehow managed to lay his hands on some scrap metal from the hammer of Thor himself. 'Cmon, you bastards!' He shouted around the quiet town, the townsfolk taking almost no notice of him. They presumably got this a lot... 
Slowly but surely, a large black van rolled up close to him - like an enormous, sluggish Grim Reaper. Two of the unnaturally tall men, dressed head to toe in black suits, walked calmly towards Sam. 
                          
Huh. Dean was right - these guys looked nothing like Will Smith.