A.N. – This fic is the joint baby of WelshWitch1011 and Silverspoon. Need… reviews… to… live….

Chapter Five

Once again Bobby's kitchen was the designated 'panic room' and whilst Dean paced a trench around them, Sam and Bobby remained seated about the table, scouring books of ancient demonic folklore.

Castiel had disappeared some five minutes earlier, having decided to consult with the other angels on the current demon situation. As far as he was aware, primal demons had neither been seen nor heard from for over a thousand years and he could not begin to guess why they had reappeared now, or what they may want with their human captives.

Whilst it was true that Castiel could take Dean to the dimension that Jo was being held in, the question of whether or not he should was one he had not dared voice out loud to the humans.

"Dean would you sit down son?" Bobby finally demanded, slamming closed the heavy tome that he currently flipped through. "Wearing a hole in my floor isn't helping anyone."

Dean simply shook his head as he lowered himself into the chair opposite Bobby.

"So what do we know so far?" Sam asked, leaning back against his own chair with a sigh and affixing his gaze on Dean.

"A big fat stinking pile of nothing," snarled Dean, dropping his head into his hands as he propped his elbows on the table.

"Would you quit wallowing in self pity," Bobby retorted, swiping at Dean and shooting him a reproachful glare.

"You find anything?" Dean's voice was laced with fear and Bobby could not recall when he had last seen him so restless.
"No," Bobby cleared his throat and glanced across discreetly at Sam, "these uh... these primal demons haven't been seen before. But that doesn't mean we can't find them and kick their asses."

"Where the hell is Cas?" Dean demanded, picking up one of the books and attempting to help out with the research. Brooding and worrying was not going to locate Jo any faster.
The three men remained in silence for several minutes; only the sound of turning pages disturbing the quiet.
Dean rubbed his eyes and stared absently across the room. He licked his lips, speaking in a voice that was little more than above a whisper, "You think she's still alive?"

"Damn it Dean," Bobby muttered, "that girl's Momma raised her right. Give her some credit, would ya?"

"Yeah, sure," was Dean's only reply as he buried his nose back in the book before him. He felt genuinely awful for doubting Jo and the extensive training that Ellen had given her, and yet try as he may he simply could not dispel his fears for her safety. Castiel had confirmed that the blood on the ground belonged to Jo and this fact was all that he seemed able to focus upon. Dean knew that both Sam and Bobby were growing irritated with his moroseness, but he could do little to lift his own spirits.

"So far all I got is what Cas already told us," Sam said, running one hand through his already tousled hair and affixing Dean with an apologetic gaze.

"As far as I can tell, primal demons are the first living entities that Lucifer created after Michael tossed him into the pit," Bobby said, removing his cap and smoothing down his hair before continuing. "They're described as brutal, bloodthirsty and seven different kinds of ugly. According to the books, they've been extinct for the best part of a millennium. Lucifer banished the races to another dimension when he created the likes of Ruby and Meg."

"They were the prototypes," Dean speculated, trying to banish all negative thoughts from his mind. Jo was going to be fine. Sam was right; she could look after herself. She was a skilled hunter and if Dean were being honest, he'd have to admit that she'd saved his miserable hide on more than one occasion.

Sam shook his head and tapped his finger against a paragraph of writing on the page before him.

"Not exactly," he interjected, "it says here that Lucifer banished them from Hell after they tried to overthrow him... in a revolt led by his daughter."
Dean's eyebrows raised in shock.

"Daughter?" he leant back in his chair and folded his arms across his chest, "Satan's got a rug rat?"
Sam shrugged and lifted up the book for Dean to read, watching as both Dean and Bobby scanned the tome with similarly incredulous looks.
"That's... that's what it says," Sam nodded with a strange undertone of glee to his voice.
"Okay, so why haven't any of us heard from junior before now? Surely we'd have been on the end of her pitch fork at least once or twice in the last thousand years," Bobby reasoned.
Sam smiled knowingly and shook his head, "Says here that he banished her too... to purgatory."
"Ouch," Dean remarked, wincing at the idea, "talk about tough love."

"Does it say how?" Bobby inquired, leaning forwards to examine the text that Sam held aloft with interest.

"Does it matter?" Sam countered, his smile somewhat victorious.

"Yes."

The three men had been so engrossed in their conversation that the fluttering of wings had failed to register with any of them. Castiel had appeared less than a second later, the tails of his trench coat wafting out behind him in the faint breeze that his appearance had created.

"It does?" asked Sam, shooting Cas a dubious look that the angel met with an arched eyebrow.

"Of course," said Castiel, regarding each of the men in turn with an impatient expression spread across his features. "Leila was vicious, calculating and self-serving. She fought a great battle with her father after attempting to overthrow him and gain control of Hell. She thrives on torment and suffering."

"And her name is Leila?" Dean guffawed. "Classy."

"She should not be underestimated Dean," Castiel warned in a somber tone that was complimented by a dark look. "The word amongst the other angels is that the primal demons could be about to attempt to invoke Leila once again."

"Well, it would certainly solve our whole Lucifer and Michael issue," Dean observed, cocking his head to one side as he addressed Castiel. "If this Leila chick ganks her Dad then I guess the big showdown between Michael and Lucifer becomes moot. No more vessels, no more apocalypse."

"Perhaps," Castiel conceded, an uncertain expression wavering momentarily across his face.

"So, did you find anything else out?" Sam asked, turning to directly address the angel who merely shook his head.
"No," Castiel dug his hands in his pockets and walked over to the table, skimming the books with a cursory glance as he stood behind Bobby, "none of the others are aware of any demon activity from a parallel dimension."

"Okay, I'm done with this," Dean slammed his book closed and stood up from the table, "how are we gonna do this? Cas, you can get me into Narnia?"
Castiel frowned, "They have given their permission, yes."
Dean held up his hand and backtracked on the angel's words, "Whoa, whoa, wait... they've given you permission? I don't need their permission Cas and I sure as hell never asked for it. I'm going to get her... now you three are welcome to come along for the ride or you can all hang out here and play Guitar Hero. Either way, I'm bringing Jo home."

"Think I'll sit this one out," Bobby drawled with a sardonic roll of his eyes as he patted the wheels of his chair and released an audible sigh. Dean gave a curt nod, too eager to commence with the rescue mission to bother offering much sympathy to Bobby. The older hunter shot Dean a glare and muttered something evidently rude but somewhat incoherent under his breath.

"Sammy, you game?" Dean pressed, shooting Sam an inquisitive look. At Sam's responding nod, Dean turned back to Castiel. "Ok then boys, let's saddle up."

Sam opened his mouth to reply, but then paused uncertainly. Each time the words were about to leave his lips he hesitated before finally finding the courage to vocalise all their concerns. "Dean, not that we're not with you a hundred and ten percent here, because, you know... we are, but, do we even have a plan? I mean, how are we going to kill those things? We don't know anything about them."

Dean arched an eyebrow at his brother and returned his attention to loading the shotgun in his hands. He had considered for all of five seconds the fact that they were now dealing with corporeal demons as opposed to ones that could be exercised with a little light chanting, but he was hopeful that this would prove to be an advantage rather than anything else.

"I was just gonna go for a little good old-fashioned violence," he shrugged, slipping a sheathed knife into his boot and checking the barrel of a handgun that he then hastily added to his back pocket.
Sam smiled tightly and nodded, catching the rifle that Bobby threw at him and adding the dagger they had taken from Ruby to his belt.

"I feel I must warn you that these demons are highly dangerous," Castiel took the opportunity to point out, "we do not know what they want with these humans, nor do we really know of their ultimate plan."
"Exactly," Dean nodded, looping the shoulder strap of another rifle over his arm and hoisting it up onto his shoulder blade, "and they've got Jo. Let's go."

x-x-x

Although Jo opened her eyes, her vision was the last of her senses to return to her. First, she was assaulted by the acrid stench of decomposing flesh, and a succession of terrified whimpers that alerted her to the fact she was not alone.

As the walls surrounding her swam slowly into focus, Jo realised that she was lying on her side with nothing but cold, damp dirt beneath her. She could feel a trickle of dried blood on her cheek and her left temple throbbed in a telltale fashion.

Squinting against the darkness, Jo was just about able to discern that the walls were made of stone, and plagued in some places by heavy moss growth. Beyond that, Jo could see little else. Pressing one palm into the ground, Jo attempted to push herself up into a sitting position. She released her breath in a hiss as the action sent a ripple of pain throughout her body that had stemmed from the hell hound wound on her stomach. Slowly, the pinpricks of light dancing in front of her eyes subsided, and relative clarity was once more brought to her vision.

Jo scanned the scene around her, raising her hand to cover her nose and mouth to try to stem the sudden urge to vomit; all around her lay dead, decomposing bodies. The smell was almost unbearable, yet somehow the living milled around as if they had acclimatized to the sight and indeed the stench. That prospect terrified Jo and she wondered how long some of these people had been held captive. Some she instantly recognised as hunters, others she was fairly certain had passed through the roadhouse, and suddenly it all began to make sense. These things, whatever they were, were targeting hunters.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw Duke, eyes closed as he lay slumped against the wall. Managing to slowly stand, Jo picked her way through the minefield of dead and dying, and crouched down next to him, concern clouding her face.
"Duke?" she shook his shoulder gently and was relieved when his blue eyes flashed open almost immediately.

The first word to pass Duke's lips was a profanity that almost gave Jo cause to smile. The hunter pressed a hand to the back of his head and when he withdrew his fingers, they were sticky with blood. Duke winced and peered up into Jo's face, his eyes ticking to the purple mottled bruise that adorned her temple.

"You know where we are?" Duke muttered finally, drawing his knees into his chest and then slowly sliding up the wall into a standing position. Jo shook her head and wrapped her arms around herself, shivering as her gaze passed over the collection of hunters before her.

"I've never seen anything like this before," said Jo, her voice shaking slightly. Indeed, neither had she ever heard of a kidnap of this scale before. A quick headcount had revealed that twenty hunters, excluding herself were present in the enclosure, and that figure did not include those that had already expired.

"No, and I ain't never seen nothin' like those green, spiny things either," he remarked, glancing up to a lookout post where one of the creatures stood guard over the prisoners. Jo followed his line of vision and gazed up with uncertainty.

"Demons?" she suggested, watching as two similarly clad guards dragged the injured body of another hunter through the gates and threw him unceremoniously onto the ground. They cast a watchful eye over the rest of the prisoners before retreating back out of the gates and Jo felt herself release a long held breath as they disappeared from view.

"That'd be my guess," Duke nodded in agreement, "but I'll be damned if I know what kind."
Jo sat down against the wall and tried to gather her thoughts; they had to find a way out somehow, yet the prospect appeared impossible. Whatever these demons were, they clearly meant business.
"Jesus Christ," Duke hung his head sadly, averting his eyes from the body of a young hunter lying no more than a few feet away, "that's Danny Lambert. I worked with the kid on a few hunts down in New Orleans. Guy had a wife and baby boy at home."

Jo stared at the hunter's lifeless body, her heart aching not just for the young life that had been taken, but for the child at home who would never really know his father. The few years she had had with her own father would never be enough and sometimes his memory felt so far removed and distant that he seemed like little more than a stranger.

"I don't see those Winchester boys here," Duke sat down next to her and fished in his pocket for a cigarette.
Jo breathed a sigh of relief and shook her head slowly, "No."

She prayed it would stay that way. However, she was also keenly aware of the fact that Dean would currently be in the process of scouring the continental US for her. The demons or creatures or whatever new nasty they turned out to be, had proven no match for four hunters and Jo's heart sank at the prospect of them taking on the Winchesters.

"So what do we do now?" Jo inquired, her eyes still sweeping the perimetre of the structure they were imprisoned inside. Four stone walls of insurmountable height, a wrought iron gate that was padlocked from the outside, and an earthen floor that would prove near impossible to dig under without being seen by the creature perched in the guard post.

Cautiously, Jo approached the gate, ignoring the stares she received from the hunters around her. She noted that she appeared to be the only woman thus far, but then she supposed that female hunters were thin on the ground to begin with.

Reaching the metal bars, Jo gripped the gate with both hands and leaned forwards in order to get a better view of the land surrounding. The prison seemed to be located in the middle of some kind of settlement. A number of smaller stone buildings dotted the landscape and more of the demonic type creatures milled about, some seeming to pause as if engaging in conversation. Jo jumped back from the gate as a knife was thrust through the bars by a creature that suddenly appeared before her, it's somewhat intelligent eyes narrowing to slits.

"Ok…" Jo placated, her hands raised in front of her in a non-confrontational gesture. "Relax… I'm not going anywhere."

Sadly, Jo knew there was nothing but truth behind her statement. They had to find a way out somehow; she was certain their lives depended on it.

x-x-x

"Are you ready?"

Sam had barely time to nod in response to the question before he felt the faint tap of Castiel's index finger on his forehead. The sensation of falling from a great height was immediate, however in the next instant Sam found himself once more standing on solid ground, his knees slightly bent as though he had landed from a jump.

Dean stood parallel to his brother, wearing a faintly nauseas expression as he swayed drunkenly. Sam knew that there was nothing Dean hated more than a trip on the 'Castiel Express' and so it was a true testament of his feelings towards Jo that he was willing to endure it now.

"This is it?" Sam inquired, turning in a slow circle in order to survey their new surroundings.

Castiel nodded, obviously amused by Sam's disappointment, "Were you expecting something else?"
Sam shrugged, "Well, no. It's just this place looks kind of like..."
"Walton's Mountain," Dean supplied, frowning as he too surveyed the landscape and found it, for want of a better word, strangely normal. Some might perhaps have described it as scenic, with scatterings of tall, dark green fir trees peppering an impressive mountain range; although the large, foreboding stone built structure that sat on the top of the nearest hillside could definitely not be considered so.

"What the hell is that?" Sam's eyes widened as he took in the building that he noted bore a resemblance to an early colonial prison. From their current position they could ascertain one lookout tower on the north wall and what appeared to be a heavily guarded external gate.

"There's only one way to find out. Let's go," Dean readjusted the shot gun on his shoulder and strode off toward the building, the heavy brush and forest debris crunching under his boots as he strode ahead in a clearly determined mindset.

As the trio neared the looming structure, Castiel held both arms out to the brothers in warning and shrank back into the cover of the trees. Dean and Sam followed suit, their gazes trained all the while on the closed gate, from behind which the sound of voices ringing out could be heard.

"You think that's where Jo is?" Sam whispered, directing his question at Cas who nodded.

"I am almost certain of it," replied Castiel, closing his eyes momentarily as he added, "I can go no further. Behind those walls are Enochian sigils… the way is barred to me, and the rest of my kind."

"Well that's just peachy," Dean growled, wiping beads of perspiration from his forehead with the back of his hand. The one main difference he had noted thus far between this dimension and his own was the extreme variance in temperature. Dean's t-shirt was already drenched with sweat despite the fact that their arrival had been little over five minutes ago. A quick glance in Sam's direction showed Dean that he was faring no better under the suddenly intense heat. Sam's hair was becoming plastered to his forehead and his cheeks had flushed almost crimson. Only Castiel seemed unaffected.

"What the..." Dean murmured, looking on as two demons dragged a human body along the ground, the unlucky man's feet dragging lines in the dirt as they signaled for the gate to be open and all but tossed him through the entry way.
Sam shot a sideways glance at his brother as Dean suddenly began to head closer to the compound, "Dean? Psst... Dean?"
Rolling his eyes, Sam carefully followed behind, leaving Castiel in the cover of the trees.

"I will wait here," Cas stated, busying himself with taking in the scenery around him.

Sam reached his brother's side and crouched down, using the cover of a gravel pile to remain hidden from the demon guards. Behind the metal gates, several humans were wandering absently around. Many seemed to be limping or otherwise injured and their clothes were torn and in disarray.

"Is that Lou?" Dean strained to make out the face of the man standing nearest the gate. Lou Johnson was an old friend of their fathers who they had met once or twice over the years at the roadhouse. Dean had thought he had retired from hunting, although he was certain that it was him they were now looking at.

"And Cooper Rollins?" Sam raised both eyebrows in shock at seeing one of the most infamous hunters of all time apparently now being held captive by a bunch of renegade demons.

Dean could not help a small smirk at the idea that Cooper had been caught. The man was famed with possessing an ego as large as his temper, and he could often be found boasting about his latest hunt at the bars he frequented.

"They're taking hunters," Dean murmured, features twisting into a thoughtful frown. Sam narrowed his eyes and leaned a little farther forwards, careful that his movements did not disturb the surrounding ground.

"Looks like," Sam agreed, squinting as he attempted to pick out other familiar faces in the mass. He noted several bodies laying face down on the ground, and shuddered. He hoped that Jo was not among those.

As if reading his thoughts, Dean said anxiously, "Do you see Jo?"

"No," Sam said gravely, his eyes darting to his brother's face as he watched his expression change.

Dean's eyes closed and Sam heard him blow out an unsteady breath, his hands gripping the barrel of the shotgun so hard that his knuckles whitened.
"I gotta get in there," he suddenly announced, standing up and throwing his rifle at Sam, who caught it with ease, "take this. You and Cas need to find some way of getting us out of there... I have to find her, Sam."
"Dean, no. That's crazy!" Sam suddenly shook his head in understanding as he realised what Dean was planning. He seized brother's arm, anger colouring his voice as he added, "Would you just think rationally for a second, here?"

"No I'm done waiting around," Dan snarled, shrugging Sam's hand from the sleeve of his jacket. Without another word, Dean turned on his heel and stalked towards the camp. He had barely made it three steps when Sam called his name once again. Dean shot his younger brother a brief glance, attempting to disregard the worry clouding his features.

"Be careful Dean," Sam replied after a pause. Dean offered Sam the smallest of smiles and then took off running towards the gate.