Chapter 2

The first thing Sam noticed when he opened his eyes, was the bright florescent lights. He was lying in a hospital bed with no idea how he'd gotten there, the last thing he remembered was fighting with a Djin before having his back pushed up against an old, cracked window and the glass giving way under his weight as the creature shoved him through it. He could feel his heart beat in the back of his head, the harsh lights only adding to his growing headache. He sucked in a breath and let out a groan as he felt pain spread from his right shoulder down his back. Sam made the attempt to sit up but quickly sunk back down into his bed, swearing under his breath as he did so.

"Take it easy there." Jody whispered, getting up from her seat to make her way to his bedside. When Sam looked over to catch her eyes she offered a smile and let out a sigh of relief. "You had me worried, you've been out for hours."

"Dean, where's Dean?"He asked, trying to remember every detail of the hunt that had gone wrong so fast. The last he'd seen of his brother, the other man was pinned to the floor of a locked room by a Djin. He'd used his gun to shoot out the glass in the door and that's when the creature set its sights on him. Next thing he knew it had a hand around his throat and his vision blurred as he struggled to breath.

Jody shook her head. "I don't know."She quietly replied, her gaze momentarily drifting up to the open door. "Police searched the place when the call about you came in, didn't find anything suspicious at first so I sent Castiel over to take a better look." She paused as she took a seat on the edge of his bed. "Sam what happened out there? A couple of teens looking for a quiet place to park called 911 when they found you lying unconscious in a pile of trash, cops said you went through a second story window."

The moment he went through the window flashed in the back of his head like a scene from a movie. He could feel the creature's cold hand wrap around his throat all over again. "Dean got attacked by the Djin, when I tried getting to him it turned on me." He paused for a moment as he quickly analyzed every detail he could remember. "It overpowered me but it's almost like I'm not the one it wanted... it only came after me because I was trying to get it away from Dean."

Jody raised an eyebrow. "I'm not a pro on all this monster hunting stuff, but I thought these things took whatever they could get their hands on."

"They usually do." Sam quietly replied, swallowing the lump that was growing in his throat. "But if this Djin had wanted me, it wouldn't have pushed me out a damn window."

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Dean let out a groan as he took a deep breath and felt his chest tighten almost instantly. He swallowed hard, the taste of blood in his mouth just another reminder of the beating he'd taken before being shot, then kicked off the platform. His mind was racing, instinct screaming at him to get back up, but his body protested even the slightest movement at all. His left arm wrapped around his sore ribs as he tried to turn onto his side, but the handcuff around his right wrist prevented him from rolling any further.

"The hell?" He muttered, his eyes focusing on the handcuff as it clinked against the metal rail of the bed he was laying on. His head was pounding and each breath pulled at his battered body, it took almost everything he had just to sit up but he forced himself to do so. Something was wrong. He wasn't at the old factory anymore, instead he found himself chained to a bed in a small cell of some kind. "Sammy?" He called out, his eyes scanning the basement room on the other side of the iron bars for any sign of his brother. "Sammy?" He repeated, squinting as pain spread from his ribs. With no reply, his mind once again started to race, what had happened wasn't quite clear but one thing he remembered without a doubt was seeing his little brother struggling with the creature they were hunting, right before he was sent over the edge of the platform. His eyes closed for a moment as the sound of gunshots followed by breaking glass echoed in his head.

Pushing the fear and panic aside, he attempted to make sense of the situation he was currently in. He was handcuffed to the old bed he was sitting on, his jacket was hanging on the wall just on the other side of the cell he was in. He could see a cluttered desk and an old filing cabinet off to one corner and cases of beer stacked in another. Shelving and cabinets lined one wall and through a small window he could just make out what he assumed was a dirt parking lot. The muffled sound of base resonated from the ceiling above him and the constant drip of a tap he couldn't see echoed in the open room. There was nothing familiar about the place, no hint as to where he was or why. He knew he'd either bruised or cracked a rib, and he could feel the split in his lip, but adrenaline could mask even the worse injuries and he wasn't sure just what shape he was in. The fall he'd taken could have easily resulted in more than a few bruised or cracked ribs, but nothing else seemed broken or dislocated. His arms were scratched but the minor wounds had been cleaned and a bandage had been wrapped around his right forearm. Noticing the blood stain on his shirt, he carefully pulled the bottom of it up to have a look at where he was sure he'd been shot. Though blood had seeped through the bandage that covered the bullet wound, it was now dry to the touch. When the sound of a door opening caught his attention and Dean couldn't help but take one last glance at the tiny room around him for anything he could use as a weapon or lock pick. With nothing of use within his reach, all he could do was sit there and watch as a man made his way down the stairs. Studying him carefully, Dean watched as the average looking, middle aged man made his way over to the cluttered desk, his eyes glued to the large folder in his hands. He was clean shaven with light brown hair, wore tattered jeans with a plain black T-shirt and as he turned slightly, Dean caught a glimpse of the gun handle sticking out the side of his belt. He shuffled with the papers inside the large folder for a moment before a loud thud overhead, forced both men to look up to the ceiling above.

"Damn drunks..." He muttered under his breath, shutting the folder in his hands and dropping it onto the desk in front of him. "Sleep well?" He asked bluntly as he made his way towards the small cell in the corner of the room. "You've been out for hours, sorry about the handcuffs kid, but it's for your own safety."

Though Dean had heard his words, he offered no reply as he quickly re-evaluated the situation he was in, now that he'd noticed the large Devil's trap painted on the ceiling above the bed. A hunter, he'd been picked up by another hunter.

"That's a Devil's trap." The man explained as he approached. "It's used to keep..."

"I know what it is." Dean was quick to cut in, his gaze finally meeting those of the man standing on the other side of the iron bars. "I'm a hunter. What the Hell am I doing here and why am I locked up?

"You're a hunter?" The other man replied, the skepticism in his voice hard to miss. "What is it you hunt?" He asked, ignoring the younger man's questions as he watched him shift his weight on the bed, pain and discomfort clearly visible on his face.

Dean sucked in a breath, his left arm pressed up against his sore ribs. "What do I hunt?" He repeated, the ridiculous question catching him off guard. "Every evil son of a bitch I come across. Why the hell am I in here?" He continued.

"No one hunts everything." The older man replied simply, once again ignoring the Dean's question. "You chase more than one or two monsters and odds are you're gonna make a mistake that'll cost you your life." He paused for only a moment as he caught Dean's eyes. "The name's Bill by the way, I hunt Djin and Demons. The former being what I specialize in. Listen kid," He started, his tone of voice dropping. "You were attacked by a Djin and once this thing got its hands on you, it filled your head with all sorts of shit, false memories it uses to keep you where it wants you until it's done feeding off you. These things are nasty; they can make you believe anything."

There was a moment of silence and Dean couldn't help but feel the frustration start to surface. He didn't have time for this, not while his little brother was still out there. "I've been around the block more than once, I've been hunting since I was a kid and I've been jumped by one of these damn things before, so skip the speech." He growled, his eyes narrowing on the man standing by his cell door. "It didn't fill my head with false memories." Dean paused for a moment as he once again pulled at the handcuff tied around his wrist. "My little brother's still out there, I've got to find him."

"Look, I know this is hard for you to understand, but these memories you swear are real, they aren't. This Djin is fast and once it gets a hold of you, you've only got a day or two, three at the most before your grip on reality gets away from you. It feeds off emotions, off negative energy, so it creates all these scenarios in your head to get a rise out of you... get you all worked up. I've been tracking this thing for months and I need you alive to put this damn thing down for good." "Are you not listening to me?" Dean barked, instantly regretting the moment he raised his voice when he felt his chest tighten. "My brother's still out there, we were hunting this damn thing together when I was jumped and..." Dean trailed off as the man on the other side of the bars crossed his arms in front of his chest. The way things were going, he wasnt't going to talk his way out of anything. "You've been hunting this thing for months?" He asked, hoping a different approach would get him what he wanted. "Well then let me hunt it with you, you want this son of a bitch dead and so do I. Let me out and I'll help you put this thing down."

"I can't risk your life." Bill replied simply as he let out a sigh. "You're not a hunter kid and the fact you're so convinced that you are, means I'm already running out of time. "

Watching as the other man turned to leave, Dean got to his feet, swearing under his breath as he took a step towards the bars and the handcuff around his wrist stopped him in his tracks. Though the pain was almost unbearable, the anger was all he could really focus on. "You don't have the slightest idea who you're dealing with." He snarled, his menacing tone of voice forcing the other man to look over.

"Actually I do, Dean Winchester." Bill replied as he caught the other man's eyes. "Trust me, I've done my research and right now, I probably know more about you than you do. This isn't the first time I've dealt with victims of a Djin." He said as he made his way back towards his cluttered desk. "You wouldn't believe some of the stories I've heard, some of the things these people thought they..."

"Then tell me who am I. " Dean shouted, wincing as his rising voice brought on the pain he was trying to ignore. "If I'm not a hunter than who am I?" He continued, trying to gather as much information as he could to better understand what was going on around him. "You want me to keep my facts straight right? Keep me from losing my grip on reality?" He asked, playing along with what the other man had told him so far. "Then tell me who I really am."

Bill paused as he reached his cluttered desk. Maybe he was right, maybe knowing the truth would indeed help him keep his facts straight and by doing so keep him alive. Though he'd dealt with countless Djin and the confused victims they left behind in their wake, none were as so sure of themselves or as persistent as this one. Of all the victims he'd caught up to, not one had ever claimed to be a hunter, or even aware of the true evil and darkness that lurked the world around them. He turned slightly to catch the younger man's eyes before taking a glance at the folder on his desk and grabbing one of the many police reports. "You're a career criminal. You spent your childhood in and out of foster homes; your teen years in and out of juvenile halls & group homes, and much of your adult life in and out of jail over petty crimes." He said frankly, making his way back towards the cell and passing Dean the report. "You've got a rap sheet five miles long and you've probably seen the backseat of every cop car across the state."

There was a moment of silence and for the first time since he'd woken up chained to a bed, Dean started doubting himself. The booking report he was holding was dated only days ago and under his mug shot the charges against him were listed; theft, trespass by night, assault and resisting arrest. His heart skipped a beat as he took a seat on the edge of the tiny bed, the hunt playing out frame by frame in the back of his head as he tried to remember if he had in fact fallen prey to the Djin. Though he couldn't recall any specific moment of the struggle where the creature would have had the time needed to do him in, it was starting to sink in that he was in fact caught up in its web. "Foster homes?" He asked, his quiet voice now void of any anger. "My Dad's the one who raised me to be a hunter, I spent my childhood on the road with him."

"Sorry kid but you're not a hunter and neither was your old man." Bill said as he made his way back to his cluttered desk. "You and your brother became Wards of the State shortly after your mother died and your father was incarcerated." He paused for a moment as his gaze drifted over the young man in the cell. "Just hang in there, once I kill this damn thing, you'll know what's real again." He said as he headed up the stairs.