A.N. – The stomach flu and a dodgy internet connection have slowed down our fast and furious update schedule. Boo! We still love you all though, so here is a new chapter to prove it. You can thank us in reviews ;-)

Chapter Eleven

The demons formed a kind of procession from the thirteen hunters they had selected from the prison yard. Jo, the fourteenth human, brought up the rear flanked by two burly primal demons. Dean had been positioned at the front of the line, and the hunters behind him were joined together by a thick rope that encircled each of their middles. Their hands were also bound with rope, and yet Jo remained free from any restraint. In fact, she had noted that the demons were treating her almost cordially, whilst they amused themselves with toying with the other captives.

The hunters who had been left in the enclosure had been far from jovial at the fact, realising that if they were not to become sacrifices they would only meet their ends in other more gruesome ways. Their suspicions had been confirmed when five apparently female demons had been led into the enclosure by the robed leader. The female primals had been entirely naked, scaled and deformed breasts exposed. They appeared somewhat smaller than the males of the species but on the whole more volatile and feral. They had snarled and spat at the humans, eager to commence with their fun, and Jo had watched nauseas as despair had settled on the face of every last hunter.

The sacrifices were no more than three feet outside the expansive iron gates when the shrieking began, accompanied by the wet sound of flesh tearing.

Jo had been unable to wrench her gaze away from Duke's still body upon leaving. She doubted very much that the demons would touch the old hunter's corpse when a far fresher meal lay within reach, but she knew that it was unlikely that they would be able to recover his body, should they even survive the day themselves.

The terror and fear of the hunters' last few moments quickly invaded her thoughts and Jo shivered against the tidal wave of emotion that engulfed her. They cried out loud to God and cursed their murderers, but present in their minds was only their pain, and hasty goodbyes to wives and lovers. A tear rolled freely down Jo's cheek; one young hunter's last thoughts were only of his mother and how his disappearance would affect her. He died without a single profanity passing his lips so as not to disappoint her in his final minutes.

Once outside the enclosure, the group walked for what Jo roughly calculated to be a mile. Jo glanced around furtively and took in the primitive looking huts and out buildings that dotted the landscape around them. When they eventually drew to a halt, Jo noted that they were standing amid a circle of flaming torches that appeared to be just out of sight of the camp entrance.

The leader strode toward the centre of the ritualistic looking ring and immediately twelve of the hunters were positioned at intervals around the perimeter. Each was forced to their knees, hands tied behind their back as their foreheads were daubed with that Jo assumed to be demon blood. She registered the fear in their eyes and was almost too afraid to search out Dean. Yet when she did so, she found him merely staring, his green eyes focused steadily on her.
She was relieved to see that he had been separated from the other hunters and now stood at the side of the leader. However, she knew that their reasons for sparing him thus far could only be self serving.
Dean forced a weak smile in her direction, and then winked at her in perhaps a final act of defiance. Jo's guilt was immense; whilst she knew that the demons would have abducted the other hunters regardless, she knew that Dean's presence amongst the sacrifices was entirely her own fault. She recognised that her own stubborn refusal to allow others to see her true emotions was what had driven her to the Roadhouse alone, and she knew that in doing so, she had as good as spit on her mother's sacrifice. Ellen had given her life for the safety of her daughter and the Winchester boys, and now they would all more than likely be killed because of Jo. She could not bear the thought nor the mocking grin that the demon at her side sported whilst it undoubtedly listened to the self-depreciation that flitted through her mind.

Jo's jaw set in resolution; she would not give these things even a split second of satisfaction if she could help as much. Turning her back on her guard, Jo locked her gaze with Dean and offered him a responding smile loaded with more confidence than she felt. In her mind, she hazarded a brief warning to Castiel, but the demons surrounding now seemed more preoccupied with preparing a makeshift alter in the centre of the circle to intercept her thoughts.

For the first time since gaining her new ability, Jo actively reached out to Dean's mind, wondering in this moment fraught with danger and tension, what the oldest Winchester could possibly be thinking. His thoughts were easy to read but they filled her with a pleasant kind of warmth that spread all the way to her toes.

And I didn't even get to tell her I love her...

x-x-x

The two hour mark was fast approaching and even without the benefit of a watch, Sam was more than aware of this fact. He paced the clearing that he and Cas had relocated to nervously, actually creating a track in the dirt with his repeated footfalls. Sam's eyes were wild and every so often he would rake his hands through to the ends of his hair in an evident display of his mounting panic. He knew that time was running out and that soon, he and Castiel would be ripped from this dimension leaving Dean and Jo to face their doom.

Characteristically, Cas sat cross-legged on a large rock, unflappable as ever. The gentle breeze stirred around him and buffeted both his hair and the tails of his trench coat, yet Castiel remained rooted to the spot. He barely even blinked.

Growing quickly tired of the angel's lack of action, Sam seized Cas' arm and shook him roughly. Castiel's head whipped back and forth, but he remained unblinking and Sam wondered if he was in some kind of trance. His musings were answered however when Cas shot him a scathing look and brushed Sam's vice-like grip from his arm as easily as he might swat a fly.

"Are you just going to sit there?" demanded Sam, hysteria colouring his tone now although he no longer cared. "They're going to die."

"Likely within the next ten minutes," Cas remarked, unflinching. Sam blinked rapidly, too shocked by the admittance to do much else than stare. Although he had long since dealt with his misconception that angels were loving and pious creatures, their lack of emotion during such times never failed to unsettle him. There was something so inherently wrong about the creatures who had been painted for centuries as innocents being so comfortable with pain and suffering.

Sam's gaze flicked between the building off in the distance and the thoroughly nonplussed angel before him and finally his temper broke.
Gathering up his rifle from the ground, Sam slung it over his shoulder and began to march toward the encampment, his jaw rigid and back erect.
Castiel glanced up as Sam passed by, and the exasperated angel rolled his eyes before beginning to follow calmly behind.
"I do not need to remind you that I cannot enter the compound," Castiel called after him, sighing as he received no response from the younger Winchester. Whilst Castiel admired the eagerness his two friends so frequently exhibited, it was also immensely frustrating when circumstances seemed insurmountable; optimism was not a typically celestial trait.
A breeze suddenly blew up around the men, sending leaves swirling up from the ground and Castiel drew to a halt, holding up his hand to signal that Sam should not interrupt him with unnecessary questions.
"Someone is removing the symbols," he announced, placing a steadying hand on Sam's shoulder as he nodded toward the camp and in a tone almost comically devoid of emotion, announced, "Charge!"

x-x-x

He was in more pain than he had ever imagined possible and yet Duke found the strength within himself to somehow clamber to his feet. He had lost consciousness before the female demons had entered the yard and as Duke spun in a slow, unsteady circle to survey the area, he found himself glad of this.

The stone walls were awash with blood as was the ground beneath him. The hunters had been ripped literally limb from limb, and the remnants of their bodies apparently feasted on. The only ones to remain untouched had been the already dead and Duke found himself again thankful for the fact that the demons must have mistaken him for being as much.

Tearing his eyes away from the terrible scene of carnage, Duke stumbled towards the gates, which he noted were now hanging wide open. From somewhere within the distance the sound of chanting washed over him, and Duke realised that the ceremony was already underway. Whilst he knew also that he may already be too late to help Jo, Dean or the rest of the hunters, Duke was more than willing to die trying.

His progress towards the exit was painfully slow in his wounded state but Duke kept one hand pressed over the seeping hole in his chest and hobbled onwards. His breathing sounded shallow to even his own ears and Duke was beginning to tremble from head to toe, yet his mind was fixed on the Enochion symbols he knew were to be destroyed.

Thankful for the unguarded gate, Duke made his way toward the outer encampment, gritting his teeth against the agony in his chest as he veered into a small grove of trees that lined the camp. He grasped the trunk of a nearby tree as a sharp pain caused every nerve in his body to tense. Duke drew his gaze quickly toward the circle of demons as he heard a woman's yell of protest punctuate the eerie silence.
Duke watched in anger as Jo was accosted by two of the demons and hauled, kicking and fighting toward the centre of the circle. Dean struggled against his captors, shouting and thrashing in an attempt to disrupt the proceedings.
Pushing himself on, Duke used the outer wall for support, managing to make it to the entry way where the symbols were daubed on the stone. He rubbed hurriedly at the writing, noting with increasing urgency that the thick blood was not wearing away under his touch. He reached into his pocket and produced a match, which he struck against the cold stone and then began to coax the flame against the symbols. The markings slowly began to fade and he noted with relief that the blood dried then crumbled beneath his fingertips.

A bolt of lightning ripped through the sky overhead without warning and although Duke jumped in surprise, he continued to chip away at the dried blood.

Duke made short work of the symbol before throwing his body at the next stone entrance pillar. The demons were too far away to notice him but Duke worked quickly. Once the second bizarre looking sigil had been fragmented in two, Duke wrapped both arms around the pillar and rested his cheek against it.

Duke sank to the floor on weak legs and the darkness pulled him under once again.

x-x-x

Jo grinned, managing to will the tears she felt pricking at her eyes into submission. She nodded at Dean in understanding and watched with a little amusement as a blush crept up his cheeks. She found his constant forgetfulness to guard his thoughts adorable and his embarrassment at this even more so.
The moment was shattered as twelve demons marched across the circle, each carrying a glistening sword in their right hand. The demons adopted menacing stances behind each hunter before looking toward their leader for the appropriate signal. Dean's eyes widened as each hunter was then grabbed forcibly by the hair in order to expose their necks. Dean gulped and saw that a number of the hunters did likewise.
Dean stared across at Jo; he was at a loss to find any way out of their current situation and he could not help but blame himself. Whilst he was not afraid to die, (one of the main benefits of having done so already), Dean found himself mourning the future that they would now be denied. Years of missed opportunities and suppressed feelings had brought them to this moment and he hoped that if nothing else, Jo now realised that she had never been just 'one of those girls'.

Her silent nod acknowledged as much and Dean shot Jo a sad smile. None of the usual light or mirth danced in his emerald coloured eyes, but Jo was drawn to them regardless. She had always been captivated by Dean's gaze. Ellen had often remarked that Dean had his father's eyes and although Jo remembered little about her Uncle John, she at least could recall the truth in her mother's words.

Jo stared wide eyed at the demon's leader as he raised his claw-like hands to the sky and began to chant in a language she could not discern. A bolt of lightning suddenly struck the earth beneath the demon's feet and a deep glowing light seeped from his palm.
Jo struggled furiously against the demons that held her, shaking her head from side to side in a vain attempt to avoid the hand of the leader. He first peered at the globe of light he held within his talons and then pressed his hand against Jo's forehead. The sound of Dean's yelling was gradually drowned out by the collective murmurs of the demons around her and with a final hiss of resistance Jo sank to the ground in a crumpled heap.

Dean's breath hitched in his chest but from a mere glance he could tell that Jo was still alive, and relatively unharmed. The ungodly chanting rose to fever pitch, soon becoming so loud and passionate that Dean longed to clap his hands over his ears in order to drown it out. Then, abruptly, the primal demons fell quiet and all eyes turned to the still form of Jo.

Suddenly, the fingers of her right hand twitched ever so slightly.

x-x-x

Sam and Castiel barrelled through the abandoned entrance of the camp, the former with his shotgun resting on his shoulder whilst the latter extended one hand in a threatening gesture. They skidded to a halt in unison as Sam's eyes fell upon a body slumped against the fortress wall. Abandoning his gun for the moment, Sam dropped to his knees and pulled the figure across his lap. He was greeted by the unconscious and blood streaked face of Duke Embry, a hunter that he had happened across once or twice before at the Roadhouse. An ugly knife wound marred his chest and blood still continued to pump from it at an alarming rate. Two fingers pressed to Duke's neck alerted Sam to the fact that the hunter was still alive, but for how much longer he had no idea.

"He's alive," Sam stated, releasing Duke's body to lay him on the ground as Castiel knelt at his side and examined the wound.
Sam quickly seized his shotgun and took off running toward the ceremonial circle as Cas concentrated on healing the injured hunter.

Sam came to a sudden standstill as he evaluated the scene unfolding in the centre of the circle. Dean stood next to the demon's apparent leader, hands tied behind his back and an angry bruise forcing one eye partially closed.

The relief at finding his sibling alive was cut abruptly short and Sam frowned as he watched Jo climb unsteadily to her feet. She took a few drunken, tottering steps before finally seeming to regain control of her legs. Something about the scene and even Jo herself was unbearably wrong but Sam was at a loss to explain anything.

A string of expletives briefly crossed Sam's lips as he watched Jo dutifully pluck a sword from the hand of a demon and step threateningly closer to Dean. Jo's lips seemed paler now than they ought to be, and they curved into a smile that despite her beauty was inexplicably ugly.

"What the hell..." Sam muttered in bemusement. Utterly horrified, he watched as Jo swung the sword above her head in an expert manner that Sam was certain the hunter was incapable of.

He shook his head in confusion and lifted his shotgun to his shoulder before carefully taking aim.