34. Djinn

"Leviathan," says Sam.

"No, they consume their prey," Charlie shoot him down.

"Well, maybe the vics were Leviathan."

"No black goo on either scene in the coroner reports."

"Dragons, they uh-"

"No signs of burns on the vics." I side-glance as Charlie crosses off monsters on her iPad.

This is what we're doing now, going through all the monsters and figuring out what killed the victims. Our visit at the coroner's hadn't gone so well, as both bodies had been burned by the time we got there. So now, here we are, gathered at the table, with Dean skimming through their dad's journal. I'm next to Charlie, glaring enviously at her iPad.

"I hate that thing," Sam mutters. "I want one."

"Wait a second," Dean suddenly says. "Djinn."

"Djinn vics don't get liquefied," Charlie says.

"No, no, no, not regular Djinn. According to this, there's a bastard offshoot. Uh, their eyes light up blue, they pass as humans, all that regular jazz, except these leave their victims with jelly-like insides, and supposedly, when they poison their victims, they leave behind a blue handprint."

"I hate that thing. And I want one."

"So these things die like regular Djinn?" Sam asks.

"Silver blade dipped in lamb's blood, yeah. And now we just gotta find the asshat."

"Alright," Charlie butts in, "well, breakthrough means snack time to me, and I wanna just stretch my legs. I will pick us up some grub, and unlike you, Sam, I will not forget the pie." Charlie makes an abrupt exit.

"She seem a little off to you?" Dean asks the moment she's gone.

"Since the second she got here."

* * *

Charlie doesn't come back. We don't hear a peep from her all night. It's the next morning, and all of us begin to think something's wrong. I'm bouncing in place, keeping my thumbnail in my mouth as Sam tries Charlie's phone again.

"Charlie, it's Sam. Um, again. Call us. Okay?" I twitch slightly when Sam coughs. I feel like I should expect to see an organ come out of his mouth.

"Any word from Charlie?" Dean asks as he makes his way into the bunker library.

"Uh, no. And there was no comic convention in Topeka. I don't know why...I mean, why would she lie to us?"

"One way to find out." Dean gets his phone.

"What are you doing?" I ask.

"When I called you from her phone, I turned on her GPS."

I find myself smiling fondly at Dean. He's got his moments where he's the smartest man in the world.

* * *

"Charlie!" I call. We tracked her phone to an apartment. We're just outside the door. "Hey, Charlie, you in there?"

I'm the first in the apartment, with the brothers in tow. The room is disastrous, with flipped over furniture and everything. Something had to have happened here. Charlie doesn't seem like the type to abandon those she's helping out.

"The hell?" Sam asks.

"What the hell is this place?" says Dean.

"Whatever it is, it belongs to Charlie," I say. I join Sam by a box. Inside are fake IDs. "Or some variation of her."

"Who the hell is she, Jason Bourne? Okay, so we got no forced entry, so either it was somebody that she knew, or..."

"Djinn," Sam concludes.

Dean finds Charlie's phone. "Here's all our missed calls." Sam goes to Charlie's laptop. "You got anything on her laptop?"

"Yeah, um, she's been making donations through her aliases to Shawnee County General here in Topeka."

"What, a charity?" I ask.

"A patient. Gertrude Middleton."

"We need answers," Dean insists. "I'll take Gertrude, you keep Djinn-digging."

* * *

"So no chance of recovery, huh," I note somberly.

We've all come back from our destinations, Sam and me Charlie's place, and Dean the hospital. During the drive back, Dean explained what the nurse there had told him: that Gertrude and her husband got hit by a drunk driver while they had been on their way to pick up their daughter. The husband didn't make it, and Gertrude is now in a permanent vegetative state. The Middleton daughter disappeared long after the accident.

My mind, after the story, makes a hunch. It's totally possible, isn't it, that this Gertrude Middleton might just be related to Charlie? Like, say, her mother? It's not a long shot. It could be the easiest connection between Charlie and Gertrude, and as to why the money is there to help.

"No," says Dean. "No, Gertrude seemed like a cool mom, too. Kind, strong, taken from her family way too young-remind you of anybody?" There's a heartbeat of silence. "Did you find anything?"

"We think so." I look to Sam.

"A John Doe from nine years ago," he takes over. "The original coroner wanted the body sent to the CDC, but the coroner's new assistant 'accidentally' ordered the body to be burned."

"New assistant?" asks Dean.

"Jennifer O'Brien."

"Coroner's a hell of a cover for hiding kills."

"Now get this. CDC never heard from Jennifer this time either. She faked the reports, burned the bodies to cover her tracks."

"So why does she get this sloppy again after nine years, start leaving the bodies where they can be found?"

"Well, let's go ask her. According to this, she owns two pieces of property in town, one two-bedroom house about ten minutes from here, and an abandoned shipping warehouse."

"Of course she does."

Nothing says being a monster like owning an abandoned warehouse.

* * *

Naturally the Djinn's hideout is a creepy warehouse, I think as we head inside. We're all armed with silver blades that have been dipped in lamb blood. I didn't question why the boys had some or how they'd gotten it.

We're mute, Dean breaks off from Sam and I. We're one way, he's another. Hopefully Charlie's okay. I just met the girl yesterday. Sure, she's got her secrets, but I can't help but find her a little likeable. Besides, my maternal instinct is a live wire right now. I want Charlie to be safe, I don't want her to be dead.

Something grabs me from behind, and I'm thrown across the room, away from Sam. I don't get his name out of my mouth, he notices the Djinn. I get to my feet, watching the fight with intent blue eyes. My fingers hug the blade tighter. I don't like the idea too much, using Sam as bait to distract the Djinn. But right now, he doesn't look like he's going to get his shot at killing her anytime soon.

I slink behind her as I see her pull back a sleeve. I don't let the glowing tattoos on her arms distract me. I find the strength I found back in the alley on that rainy night, and I shove the blade through her back. She doesn't scream, but I bet her mouth is agape.

The Djinn collapses at my feet, and Sam looks at me with wide eyes.

"You okay?" I ask, panting slightly.

"Are you?"

I help pull Sam to his feet. "Fine."

"I missed out?" Sam and I turn our heads to see Dean.

"Yeah, you missed out." I twirl the blade in my hand. "You find Charlie?"

I'm assuming he has, as Dean takes off. Sam and I follow him through the warehouse until we find Charlie, strapped to a chair, her head slumped forward. I feel a cold sensation through my veins. Don't be dead, don't be dead. Don't. Be. Dead. Sam injects Charlie with a blue liquid. Nothing changes.

"What the hell's going on?" Dean demands.

"I don't know. Different Djinn, maybe she needs a different antidote?"

"Charlie?" Dean touches her forehead. "She's burning up, man, we're not letting her turn to jello."

"Okay, okay, uh. Okay, Djinn poison puts your brain in something like a feedback loop while your blood boils, right?"

"Right."

"Um, if the antidote didn't break the loop, then maybe we can find a way to break it from the inside. I mean, if Djinn take you to your happy place, your happy place is like a dream-"

The boys get it, I'm the only one who doesn't. "African dream root."

"Max, stay here with Charlie. We'll be back."

"What's-?" But the Winchesters have already left. "Going. On." I sigh, rubbing the back of my neck. "Typical."

I pace in front of Charlie, stealing glances at her to make sure her chest is still moving. Her forehead is hot to the touch when I try. I whistle lowly. Djinn take you to your happy place. I tilt my head, looking at Charlie. My lips quirk in thought. The poison sounds more like Heaven, until you die, that is. It sounds to me like it's a numbing agent so that you don't know you're boiling inside. So they make it painless.

If the Djinn had been successful, and it had touched Sam or even me, what would we see? I haven't had any happy places since I've been homeless. Sure, I've got memories of my family that I could live in. But happy place doesn't equal memories, I remind myself. I don't want to find out anytime soon.

The Winchesters come back, and I stop my pacing. Sam's got what I assume is the African dream root. He unscrews the jar, and Dean tips in a vial of something. Sam yanks off a hair of Charlie's and adds it in. I make a face.

"You have to down that?" I ask, eyeing the jar contents warily. "So what does this do?"

"Puts you to sleep, lets you access the person's dreams."

That explains the hair. "Wait, who's going?"

"Who do you think is going?" Sam eyes Dean heatedly.

"I think that's the better choice," I say neutrally.

"Alright, let's do this," says Dean, before he downs the stuff. The disgust on his face is priceless. "Ugh. Okay. Alright, I'm gonna need to go sleep fast, so, punch me." Sam and I look at Dean strangely. "Look, man, I know you don't want to, okay-"

"Sam," I say as the younger Winchester throttles his older brother. Dean isn't unconscious, he only stumbles back. Sam, meanwhile, is shaking his hand.

"Would you rather do it, Max?" he retorts.

"It's okay, Max," Dean assures me through a grunt. "Well, you're a little off your game there, cause I was-that was pretty-"

I cringe as Sam knocks Dean into the other chair. He looks similar to Charlie, his head is forward, only he's not strapped down. Sam continues to shake his hand.

"Was there another way?" I ask, a bit irritated.

"Not unless you packed a shovel on you."

"Now we just wait?"

"Now we wait."

"Fun." I resume my pacing from earlier, keeping eye on all three people in the room. I scrunch my nose, swishing the bloody blade around at my side. What if Dean doesn't make it in time? What if Charlie dies? I'm trying not to be pessimistic, but with what I've endured, pessimism has become a part of me. A part that, lately, I haven't really visited.

"You hear that?" I ask, stopping my pacing. I look through the warehouse, the blade at my side.

"Hear what?" Sam asks me. He coughs.

"I swore I heard something."

"Warehouses make noises all the time, Max."

"In normal circumstances, yes. Just like houses randomly creak in the middle of the night." I step closer towards Sam, and then turn to examine Dean and Charlie. Neither of them look peaceful in sleep. Dean will be sporting some bruising somewhere. "You didn't break anything, did you?"

"No, it hurts like a bitch though." Sam massages one of his hands.

I get a violent shudder to ripple through me. I didn't imagine that. Something's up. There's a catch to this. I sniff, turning back to get a second survey of the warehouse.

My eyes go to what I think is movement. From the corner of my eye, I see Sam is like me, scouring the warehouse.

I lick my lips, thinking my hearing and my instinct are flukes-

Until the boy steps out from his cover.