Chapter 4

Back in the bunker Sam looked up from his laptop as Jody placed a stack of files on the table in front of him. "These are all the police reports concerning the missing persons I think are related to this case." She said, taking a seat across from him. "Six missing, eight found dead and dozens of attacks reported in the area, all describe the attacker as a middle aged man; tall, thin, tattooed, gruff looking, possibly homeless."

"I've searched that factory inside and out, I didn't see anyone there." Castiel replied as he made his way to the table, adding documents he'd pulled from Men of Letters's archives to the growing pile.

"Yeah, the police searched it inside and out too." Jody added, eying the documents Castiel had gathered.

"Ok so let's start from the beginning again." Sam said as he pushed his laptop to the side and spread out the police reports Jody had brought. "Aside from the general area where the victims were last seen and others were attacked, what do these people have in common?"

"Nothing." Jody replied with a sigh as her gaze drifted down to the police reports on the table in front of them. "I went over this countless times and I can't find a connection between them at all. The only thing that links them is what those who got away described... which led me to believe I was dealing with a Djin."

"What really doesn't make sense to me," Sam started as he leaned back in his chair. "Is why this thing came after me only to shove me through a window."

"That puts you in the 'attacked but got away' category." Jody explained as she reached over to put her hand on one of the files in front of them. "Most of the people that were attacked described this man choking them until they black out. When they came to, he's gone and they're scratched up and bruised but otherwise OK."

"Maybe it's not a Djin?" Castiel offered, his eyes catching Sam's for only a moment before he started shuffling through the documents he'd gathered. "According the Men of Letter's notes, there are Djin-like creatures and several types of Djin out there. Though many are long extinct or incredibly rare."

"I got a good look at it when it was on Dean, it was definitely a Djin." Sam remarked, his mind racing back to the old factory where he had peered into the dark room and saw his brother pinned to the floor.

"But when he reached out to me, Dean told me something was wrong." Castiel continued, his voice dropping slightly. "He said the markings were different."

"So a type of Djin, but we have no clue which one?" Jody asked, watching as the angel carefully studied the documents in front of him and Sam pulled his laptop back towards him. "And I assume we can't kill them all the same way?"

"Probably not." Sam replied simply without looking up. "Nothing's ever that easy or simple."

"Of course it isn't." The Sherriff muttered under her breath.

"What about the age?" Casitel asked as he pulled out a file that had caught his eye. "Were the victims all around the same age?"

Jody shook her head. "The oldest was in his sixties, the youngest was fifteen. Different backgrounds, ethnicities, careers, social circles..." Jody trailed off as Sam suddenly looked up from his laptop to catch her eyes." What ?" She asked, watching as he started gathering the police reports he had spread out on the table in front of him. He didn't offer a reply as he started franticly typing away, but it was obvious that something had come to mind.

"They did have something in common." He finally started, scanning over the newspaper articles he'd found on the various disappearances and deaths. "All of them were the first born in their family." He replied, turning his laptop around to show Jody one of the family photos he'd pulled from the headlines. "They were all different ages, but they all had younger siblings, they were the oldest and first born."

Castiel flipped through the files he'd gathered on Djin and pulled out the only one that seemed to fit what Sam had described. Unlike some of the other documents on types of Djin that had been resorted and retyped over the years, it was obvious that this one hadn't been out of the archives for quite some time. The paper had turned yellow with age and the typewriter's ink had started to fade. "There is a very rare type of Djin that's not been documented since the early 1800's, that feeds only on first born." He said, studying the creature's description and habits. "Not much research has been done on them since they're so rare but according to this, the creature spreads its toxin through skin to skin contact which leaves behind a burn-like mark."

"What happens to the victims?" Sam was quick to ask, watching as Castiel struggled to read the fragile and faded piece of paper in his hands.

"Most victims are left comatose only seconds after an attack, but some take up to a minute or two before the toxin kicks in. It usually creates panic by chocking their victims, which elevates the heart rate and gets the blood pumping faster to better spread the poison. Once unconscious, the Djin manipulates the victim's thoughts and memories to create emotional turmoil... it then feeds off the resulting negative energy."

"That's not good." Sam muttered under his breath. "Dean's got more than enough emotional turmoil to keep that damn thing fed for weeks." He continued, catching the angel's equally troubled eyes. "Any info on how to kill it?"

"A silver blade, dipped in the blood of a victim." Castiel replied. "Once a victim is infected, the toxins that are released into the bloodstream are toxic even to the creature itself."

"Which is why they feed off the energy and not the flesh?" Jody asked, watching Castiel offered a nod.

Sam let out a sigh as he passed a hand through his hair. "How are we supposed to use Dean's blood to kill this thing when we don't even know where he is?"

"We don't." Jody replied bluntly. "We find another victim, set this Djin up, and then hunt it down."

"You want to use someone as bait?" Sam asked as their eyes met. "Setting someone up as bait to lure this thing out is a bad idea, too much could go wrong and Dean would never want to risk someone else's life to..."

"Yeah well Dean's not here." Jody was quick to cut in. "And I got you guys into this mess in the first place. I'm a first born; I say we hit that factory tonight, wait for this Djin to attack me then use my blood to kill it."

"Yeah and what if killing it doesn't snap you, or the others out of whatever coma it puts you in?" Sam asked, considering all the risks involved with her idea. "We've hunted different types of Djin but I have never come across anything like this one before, I don't even know if the antidote we have can counteract the poison it..."

"You got a better plan Winchester?" She replied, cutting him short. "I know there's some pretty big risks involved, but if we don't do something, the body count is just going to keeps rising." She paused for only a moment as the other man glanced over to catch the angel's eyes. "We'll head out by nightfall to see if we can lure this thing out." She said getting up from her seat. "The bodies that were recovered were found days after they were reported missing, so I don't think we have much time to waste."

In the blink of an eye, Dean ripped the gun out of Bill's hand as he distracted him with a punch to the face. He tossed the weapon onto the bed behind him as he dodged a swing that was clearly meant for his bruised ribs, and grabbed the hunter's arm. With adrenaline overtaking the pain of his movements, he spun the other man around and put him in a chokehold, keeping a firm grip until Bill finally stopped struggling. Unable to hold the unconscious man up, Dean lowered him down to the floor at his feet then straightened out. The moment he did, the pain suddenly caught up to him and he couldn't help but lean heavily against the wall behind him. His breaths were coming in painfully short gasps now, and each one was burning at his lungs and pulling at his chest. It took a moment for him to regain control, but when his pounding heart steadied and he was able to catch his breath, he grabbed the keys from the floor and unlocked the handcuff that was still hanging around his wrist.

He rolled Bill onto his stomach, clamped one cuff around the man's wrist and the other to the frame of the small bed, then quickly went through the hunter's pockets. From one pocket he pulled out a set of car keys and a silver switchblade, from the other, some spare change and a lighter. He shoved the items into his own pocket then grabbed the gun from the small bed behind him. He took a quick glance at the clip to make sure it was loaded and tucked the weapon into the back of his belt. Stepping out of the small cell, he locked the door behind him, grabbed his jacket from the hook on the wall and left the set of keys hanging in its place. The hunt for a Djin hadn't gone as smoothly as they'd expected, but dealing with the issues as they came up was just part of the job. Almost nothing ever went as planned.

With Bill's words about Sam being dead still circling in his head, Dean made his way to the hunter's cluttered desk and started going through the folders. Though he knew without a doubt that he was caught up in a Djin's web, the more he knew about the situation he was in, the better the chances he thought he would have to get himself out of it. Opening the large file with his name on it, he started shuffling through the pages of countless police reports, looking for any mention of his little brother or his past. The life he'd lived was much different than the one he was leafing through, the one Bill had researched. He paused as one hand written document caught his attention, it was easily recognizable as notes any good hunter would have taken while working a case and researching a victim.

Dean Winchester;
Ward of the State of Kansas, age 4, Schizophrenic Tendencies, PST or other undiagnosed mental health issues. Unresponsive to therapy sessions, trouble connecting with Foster Parents, separated from sibling at age 14 in best interest of other child, in and out of group homes and juvenile detention centers until age 18. No known address hereafter, multiple convictions.

John Winchester (Father) convicted of murder in the death of Mary Winchester -nee Campbell, (Mother) sentenced to life and died while incarcerated. Samuel Winchester aka Officer Samuel W. Robertson. (Brother) Deceased. Estranged after separation at age 10, adopted same year. See Case file #27.

While the notes lacked in detail, the picture they painted was painfully clear. His heart hit the bottom of his stomach and for a moment, he could have sworn he was about to throw up. "What the Hell." He muttered under his breath, his eyes glued to the words on the sheet in front of him. Murder. His father had been convicted of murdering his mother, this was the single event in his life that had thrown everything off the path he knew, the path that saw him become the hunter he was today. His eyes closed for a moment as he drew a sharp breath, pain pulling at his sore ribs. "None of it is real." He whispered to himself, doing his best to push the devastation aside. "It's not real."

Closing his file, his eyes now drifted over to the other folders on the cluttered desk, the one with the number 27 on it catching his attention. He pulled it towards him and flipped it open to have a look but froze as the door at the top of the stairs opened.

"Shit..." He muttered to himself, glancing over to the unconscious man on the floor of the small cell as he reached for the gun. He made his way around the desk to a large filing cabinet and ducked in against it as a young woman came down the stairs, an empty case of beer in her hands. She headed across the room to stack it with the others and for a moment Dean thought she wouldn't notice anything was wrong, but then she turned to glance towards the cell.

"Dad, diner's getting cold." She called out, waiting a moment for the other man to reply. When there was no response, she turned. "Dad?"

Though her voice was oddly familiar to him, Dean couldn't place it. He pressed his back against the filing cabinet as she made her way passed him and headed for the small cell where she saw her father laying on the floor, handcuffed to the bed. He followed quietly and held his breath as he came up behind her and caught her by surprise. "Don't make a sound and don't move." He started, watching as she put her hands up and then turned slightly to catch his eyes. The moment he saw her face, his heart sank like a stone. "Jo..." He whispered, his words catching in the back of his throat as his mind drifted back to the moment he'd placed a makeshift detonator in her dying hands and kissed her goodbye.