Lex forced Dean to keep running, even when Dean's panting had turned into groans and he'd started quietly begging Lex to stop. Lex was sure they'd lost the creature, but he also didn't want to take any chances. Not while Dean was injured.

Everything in Lex wanted to go back, to take his chances. That thing still had Clark. But there was nothing he could do. If the silver knife dipped in lamb's blood didn't work, they had no idea how to kill the thing.

Finally, they came to a little clearing in the corn field. "No more," Dean choked out, and he pulled his arm away from Lex and limped to a stop.

Lex winced as he looked over Dean. Blood soaked the side of his jean leg from the calf down, and the arm Lex hadn't been dragging was hanging limp, the shoulder joint misshapen. Lex's forearm wasn't bad by comparison. The cut from the knife stung, and it had bled some, but that was the worst of it.

"Let me fix your shoulder," Lex said.

"I don't need your help," Dean growled.

Lex resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "Scared?"

Dean grumbled, but he took a step toward Lex and angled himself so Lex could reach his arm. Lex didn't give him any warning before popping his shoulder back into place. Dean shouted a long stream of curse words.

"Quit being such a baby," Lex said, but his heart wasn't really in it. Lex knew firsthand how painful resetting a dislocated shoulder could be.

Dean rolled his shoulder forward and backward, rubbing the joint. "How did you know how to do that?"

"Ah. Like I said, my dad's a real bastard."

Dean blinked a couple of times, looking away. Lex had felt bad earlier when Dean had said his own father hunted monsters—Lex had probably been too quick to assume that Sam and Dean had been abandoned on a whim, like Lex had been—but now, he relished Dean's discomfort as the tables turned. Dean had assumed Lex just had no family loyalty. Let him squirm.

Dean sat down on the dirt and leaned back, bracing himself against his good arm. "So the lore was wrong."

"Maybe." Lex sat beside him. "Do you have another knife? Maybe a smaller one?"

Nodding, Dean reached into his pocket and took out a pocket knife.

Lex cut away the denim around Dean's calf and started tearing it into strips, then he tied the strips tightly around the ragged gash in Dean's leg while Dean hissed in pain. It didn't look good, but the bleeding slowed. "Are you up to date on your tetanus shots?" Lex asked.

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"What? I don't know."

Lex made a mental note to run that by the Kents when they got back to the farm, if they did manage to get out of this alive. Tetanus could be bad, but right now, the Djinn was more of an immediate threat.

"Bet this is what happened to my dad," Dean said. "He was probably injured in the hunt and had to regroup and figure out what to do next."

Lex didn't say anything. He didn't want to suggest what was obviously on Dean's mind—that his dad might already be dead.

"Wishing you'd paid better attention in mythology class?" Dean asked when Lex finished binding his leg.

"I paid attention. It's supposed to be a silver knife dipped in lamb's blood."

"Well, apparently not."

"But there were pictures of Djinn in the books. The tattoos were usually blue."

"And green."

Lex shook his head. "Not green." He looked away for a moment—Lex knew his theory was crazy. Dean was going to laugh at him if he said what he was really thinking. Then again, Dean apparently fought monsters all the time. Maybe he wouldn't laugh.

Lex sat down across from him. "You know how I told you about what people have said about the meteor showers?"

"That the meteor rocks affect people in weird ways?"

"Yeah. Well . . . what if it does the same thing to monsters?"

Dean's eyebrows shot up. "A mutant Djinn?" He groaned. "How are we supposed to kill a mutant Djinn?"

"Maybe if we had a lamb that had been infected by meteor rocks, too . . ."

"And where are we going to find that?"

Lex shrugged. "I don't know what to do, Dean."

It was quiet for a moment.

"We're going to have to tell the Kents," Lex said.

Dean sat up a little straighter. "No. We're not giving up on Clark."

"Dean—"

"You don't give up on family. Even you should know that."

"I don't want to, but his parents should know—"

"Did the lore mention any other weaknesses?"

"Uh . . ." Lex lowered his head and closed his eyes, trying to remember.

There had been a story told about a Djinn who tried to use its powers of hallucination on an insane man, and it had been seriously disoriented. The man had become insane after witnessing the murder of his entire family; maybe trauma was enough.

Between Julian, Duncan, and Lex's mother, Lex wondered if he might be able to give the Djinn a run for its money.

Lex took a deep breath. "It's possible that if I let it take me, that might distract it for long enough for you to get Clark out of there and back to his parents."

Dean shook his head. "Then we won't have any way of getting you out."

Lex shrugged. "I don't matter. My dad'll be happy to get rid of me."

"Don't talk like that."

"It's true. And even if it wasn't, Clark's got parents and friends. A good life ahead of him. My life for his is more than a fair trade." In theory, Lex believed what he was saying, but his heart pounded so hard it hurt. He didn't know if he had the courage to walk to his own death, but he had to try.

Dean's jaw pulsed. "No. We'll find another way. You're not sacrificing yourself."

"Why do you care? You hate me."

"I don't want you to die."

"And if it was Sam?"

Dean froze.

Lex let out his breath. "If it was Sam in there. Wouldn't you give your life without a second thought?"

"Yeah." Dean looked straight ahead. "I would."

Lex gave a slight smile. "I know Clark isn't really my brother. But . . . he calls me his. And I'm not sure blood is all that makes you family."

Dean nodded, slowly at first, then more emphatically. "Okay, Luthor." He pushed himself to his feet. "Let's go save your brother."