Dean picked up some extra ammo, another gun, and a couple of flashlights at the cabin. He'd also meant to grab both of his dad's silver knives, but only when he went to grab them did he realize that one of them was missing. Dean could have kicked himself for not noticing that his dad had taken it—that would have been a major clue in figuring out what his dad had been hunting—but he let it go, considering he hadn't even really known what a Djinn was until Lex told him.

"Ever shot a gun before?" Dean asked Lex.

"Yeah," Lex said.

That hadn't been what Dean was expecting to hear, but he didn't make any comments. He held out one of the guns, and Lex pocketed it.

Dean wasn't sure how to get to the warehouse from the cabin, so he headed back toward the Kent farm instead. Using the Kent farm as his base, he could explore the other local farms until he found one that kept sheep, then he could backtrack and follow the direction of the scream from the night before.

Finding a farm that housed sheep was easy enough. Dean had half expected to enjoy the squeamish grimace on Lex's face when he killed the lamb, but he found it wasn't nearly as satisfying as he had expected. Truth was, Dean really didn't like killing animals, especially young, defenseless ones. But it had to be done—Clark needed their help.

"How long does it take for the victims to die?" Dean asked as they walked toward the warehouse.

"Ah, the lore varies. Usually, twenty-four hours, but Clark is pretty small. Maybe closer to twelve for him."

Dean nodded. It had probably been two or three hours since Sam had come to let him know that Clark had been taken. As long as they kept moving, they should be fine.

"Anything else I should know about it?" Dean asked.

"Trying to remember," Lex said. "I didn't think I'd need to know this stuff in the real world, so I wasn't exactly pressing my lit professor for details."

"Do they hunt in packs?"

"No. They're territorial, and they're supposed to be really rare."

At least that much was encouraging. Dean had no idea what he would have done with a single knife against a dozen or more monsters.

The destroyed warehouse was surrounded by glowing green rocks—he wondered if Sam had seen them, or if he knew they were from the meteor shower. The door hung from one hinge, damaged and rusted over. Dean took a deep breath, then he pushed the door open.

It looked like this had once been a factory of some sort, before the meteors, fires, and weather had taken their toll. Machinery was overturned everywhere, making it impossible to see to even to the far wall.

"Should we split up?" Lex said. "We'll find Clark faster that way."

Dean shook his head. "We've only got the one knife. Stay behind me."

Lex frowned, but he didn't say anything, just followed close behind.

Dean shone his flashlight into the mess of fallen machinery. Something caught his eye—it looked like a hand. He tiptoed closer, shifting the beam from his flashlight.

It fell on a pale face.

Lex gasped and jumped back, but Dean had seen too many dead bodies in his life to be startled. "It's okay," he muttered, and took a step closer, crouching down to get a closer look. The body didn't smell yet, but the skin was completely colorless. The woman had been drained—Lex was right about the creature drinking blood.

"You think she was the one who screamed last night?"

Dean's heart sank. It had been just over twenty-four hours since then. If they'd come here earlier, they might have been able to save her.

Dean could beat himself up for that later. Right now, they needed to make sure Clark wasn't the next one to be drained and dumped.

Meanwhile, Dean wasn't sure to be comforted or worried that his dad was nowhere in sight.

"Let's keep moving," Dean said, and Lex nodded.

Dean stood from the pile of machinery and turned around to find himself face to face with the creature. Its green and blue tattoos glowed in the dark warehouse.

He didn't think—just swung his flashlight as hard as he could. The Djinn grabbed hold of it mid-swing and followed its path, throwing Dean onto one of the machines. A bit of broken metal jabbed into Dean's leg, and his shoulder gave a sickening crack! as his arm slammed hard against the wreckage.

Several gunshots sounded. Head swimming with pain, Dean looked up in time to see Lex fall back, his cap falling off as he shot twice more. The Djinn limped over to him, reaching toward him.

Dean yanked himself up and leapt between them, whipping out the bloodstained knife and jamming it into the Djinn's chest.

The creature stumbled back, its tattoos flickering for a moment, then going dark. Dean stood panting, and he held out a hand to Lex, helping him to stand.

Then the Djinn pulled the knife out of his chest, reaching toward them as its tattoos glowed brighter than ever, along with its eyes. It slashed at Lex with the knife, leaving a deep gash in his arm—Lex groaned and scrambled backwards.

"Ahh!" Dean pulled out his gun and shot a few more times, aiming for the head—brain damage usually did more to slow creatures down—as Lex grabbed his uninjured arm and half-lead, half-dragged him out of the warehouse.