Sam had tried to stop him from going into the decrepit factory alone, well started to try anyway. Dean had quickly cut the call when he saw the direction it was going in. He assumes that this Genie or Djinn or whatever the hell it is won't even be in the factory; it was just a guess so probably nothing in it. And anyway, if it is there, he thinks he can handle it alone because it's just a bloody magic wish granting thing, so can't be any real harm, right? Besides, he doesn't want to waste Sam's time (or get him any danger if he can avoid it, you know, just in case) when he can do more research. He internally scoffs thinking about Sam with his head in a book or scouring the internet for information. Geek. Plus, he kind of really needs to get away from Sam for a while because he was getting distracted by his deep voice that Dean thinks is like honey. So, he enters the huge, run down building without Sam by his side. There's cold water drip drip dripping from the broken tiles above his head and if it would stop anything, he would shoot the water because god, the incessant sound of the droplets is really annoying. Everything seems fairly mundane, shattered bits glass and used needles scattered carelessly on the dull grey floor placed in between dull grey walls. The only not grey colour appears to be the mould creeping its way around the room he's stood in and even that looks almost black in the looming darkness. Geez, what a fucking crap hole. He scans the boring rooms in the faint light of his flash light, seeing exactly what is to be expected of an abandoned factory.
Just as he was about to turn back and leave, thinking he was right and there really isn't anything here, the puny hairs on the back of his neck stand up and he gets a terrible feeling that someone, or something, is watching him. Human intuition; never fails. He's always been a big fan or trusting his instinct because 99% of the time he's dead on. So, this is why he carries on walking, gently creeping along the edge of a wall before suddenly spinning round it, gun tightly gripped in a rough hand, expecting to find something waiting in the dark but finding nothing. He lets his hand swing back down to his side and that's when the Djinn attacks, violently shoving him up against a damp, unwelcoming wall with a weird glowing blue hand aiming for his face. Shit. At this point, Dean isn't sure whether he regrets not listening to Sam and bringing him along or he's glad he didn't because then Sam might be in danger too. Either way, the struggle to get out of the Djinns harsh grip is proving ineffective and everything stats to sway a bit before his eyes, his head feels hazy and his flailing limbs start to give up and dangle solemnly to the ground before the world gradually becomes engulfed in blackness.
Dean wakes up with a start, practically leaping out of the unknown bed which he was lay in alone. Where the hell am I? He takes in his new surroundings, and guesses he's probably at some random chick's house that he hooked up with last night even though he doesn't remember any of it. It's not like that hasn't happened before though, there have been times, albeit very few, where he'd drank so much he has no recollection of the night. The room isn't particularly girly or anything, it's quite plain, but it's the best excuse his sleepy mind can muster up as he shuffles towards the door.
Once in the lounge, which he has to admit is pretty stylish, he digs in his pocket for his phone and calls Sam who picks up on the second irritating ring that sound about ten volts louder in his head. That's when he realises what happened, when the ringing makes his head hurt more and he brings a hand up to rub it, his mind flashes him images of the Djinn's freakish hand on his head. Great, that's just fucking great. Damned Aladdin dick. What is this?!
'Dean?' Sam sounded slightly confused as to why Dean was calling, but he ignored Sam's tone.
'Sam?'
'What's going on?'
'I don't know, I don't know where I am'
'What? Aren't you at home? What happened?'
'Home, what?...' he shakes his head, Sam must mean their crappy motel room, not something he would call a home. 'No, the uh, the Djinn, it attacked me'
'The gin? You're drinking gin?' Sam sighed and he thought Sam sounded unusually concerned about that which was strange because even though Sam normally had a disappointed look on his face when Dean drank, he would always just shrug it off.
'No, asshat. The Djinn. The uh, scary creature. Remember?'
'Dean, you're drunk. You're drunk dialling me. Here was me thinking you were calling so we could have a nice chat. Couldn't entertain yourself whilst sober for one night without me eh?' Sam laughed but Dean thought he also sounded kind of exasperated.
'I'm not drunk, quit screwing around!'
'Look, it's late alright. Just get some sleep and I'll see you tomorrow okay? Cya, love you'
'Wha... did you just? Wait, Sam! Sam!'
His desperate attempts at forcing Sam to stay on the line were pointless; Sam hung up almost immediately after he stopped speaking, probably expecting Dean to go into a drunken ramble. What the hell was all that about!. He didn't understand what had just happened, he pondered the idea that Sam was in some kind of trouble because they never said 'love you' to each other, it just went known but unspoken as is with most brothers. But, in the end, he decided that maybe Sam is just drunk himself, because Sam is the soppy type when intoxicated. That aside, he knew he was definitely the one in trouble here. He spots some envelopes on a table and swiftly walks over to inspect them, hoping for some info. He grabs the first one and carefully reads the letters printed on the front.
SAM WINCHESTER 53 BAKER AVE LAWRENCE, KS 66044
Lawrence? He's more than puzzled but proceeds to check out the other two unopened letters, both of which read the same:
DEAN WINCHESTER 53 BAKER AVE LAWRENCE, KS 66044
What the hell? For once, he honestly doesn't know what to think because since when have him and Sam lived in some posh (well, posh by their standards) well done up house together? When have they ever really lived in a house at all? He starts to panic a bit now and frantically looks around trying to pick up any clues when his body goes rigid and cold at the sight of a picture on a small table by the comfy looking couch. He strides over to it and yanks it up for a better look and yes, it's what he thought it was; him and his mother. This can't be, it's freaking impossible! Shock sends jolts through him like electric sparks and his body seems to stop working for a moment because the next thing he knows is the sound of a small smash bringing him out of his bewildered daze and the picture is on the ground. What is this? He can't even think straight anymore, he just grabs his coat and leaves to get in the impala an drive away, completely dumbfounded by the whole situation.