Lex hadn't really thought about living to an old age, but he certainly hadn't expected to die at sixteen, either.

In a way, there was a certain justice to it. He had taken two lives at this point, though he didn't expect to see any of the people he'd lost after death. He wasn't sure if he believed in heaven, but he knew that if it did exist, it had no place for him.

Lex's mind kept going through everything he knew about Djinn to see if there was another way. He seemed to recall something about what would happen if the victim died in the vision, but he couldn't remember whether suicide would wake the person up from the dream, or kill them sooner. He wished he'd paid better attention to the details—his father was always telling him how important that was, but then, he didn't always pay attention to his father, either.

Dean walked beside him back to the warehouse. If Lex had had his choice of who to be with for his last few hours on earth, Dean would never have come to mind, but there was something comforting about Dean's presence all the same. Dean wasn't a friend, so he wasn't trying in vain to reassure or comfort Lex, or to talk him out of his decision. He was just there. He kept a light grip on Lex's arm, limping heavily, but Lex wasn't sure if Dean really needed his support—Lex's own legs were shaking so hard that, at times, it seemed like Dean was the one who was supporting him.

The walk to the warehouse was all too long and all too short at the same time. As soon as it appeared in sight over the corn stalks, Dean stopped, let go of Lex's arm, and turned to look Lex right in the eyes. "I'm going to come back for you," he said.

"Get Clark to safety first."

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"I will. But I'm not letting you die in there."

"You don't have anything that can kill this thing."

"I'll figure something out."

"Dean—"

"This is what my family does."

"Your dad's missing. Sam needs you alive."

"I'll be fine," Dean said.

Lex let his breath out. He should have learned by now that it wasn't worth trying to argue with Dean.

The sky was beginning to lighten, and a light breeze rustled the cornstalks and sent shivers down the back of Lex's neck. He'd lost his cap in the fight. He hadn't even noticed—Dean hadn't said a word about it.

"Give me a minute's head start," Lex said.

Dean just nodded. For a moment, Lex wondered if he was going to try to say something profound—wish him luck, or say good bye, or give advice for how to face death—but Dean didn't say anything. Lex was thankful for that.

His father's teachings actually came in handy on the last stretch of land leading up to the warehouse. Lex managed to stop his legs from shaking so hard that he couldn't walk at all. There was a moment's pause as he reached the door leading into the warehouse, and for a moment, he worried he was going to have to call out some awkward taunts to get the Djinn to come after him.

One instant, there was nothing; the next, the creature stood before him, reaching toward him. Lex hadn't even seen it coming, and he didn't even have time to pull out his gun before the Djinn's cold hand pressed against his neck.

In the seconds before he surrendered to sleep, Lex saw the Djinn's glowing tattoos flicker, blinding bright at times and completely dark at others, and it stumbled back. His trauma must be getting to it. It would have to be enough to buy Dean some time.

It didn't protect Lex from the hallucinations, though.

Within moments, he was waking up as if from a dream. He knew he was waking into a dream, but it didn't feel that way to him. He was in Julian's old nursery, holding a warm bottle. His mother sat in a rocking chair on the corner, gently cradling him in her arms. She smiled at Lex as he brought over the bottle, and she squeezed his hand before looking down to feed the baby.

If Lex had to die, this wasn't a bad way to go.