This is my first multi-chapter SN story. If you don't read works in progress, don't worry, it's pretty much done so I should be updating it quickly. If you do like works in progress, have at it!

Carpe Diem, Baby

Chapter 1

Morgan Creek Park, Cedar Rapids, Iowa

Tommy Sattler ran.

He could hear the pounding of the feet of his brother's best friend, Casey Rowan right behind him, but he didn't take the time to slow up or turn around. Whatever that thing was, it had gotten Zach before any of them had even seen it coming.

He tried not to think of his brother, still lying still and alone back at the park. He has wanted to go back for him and make sure he was okay, but Casey had grabbed him and told him to run. Whatever that thing was that had shot his brother was still there and Tommy was scared. He didn't want to leave his brother, but he wasn't sure what to do and when Casey had yelled run, he ran.

They had just been out to meet girls. Zach and Casey, being in middle school, had set up a meeting with Laura Strong and her friends. Tommy had begged to come along and, as usual Zach had let him. Casey had protested that they couldn't have a little kid with them, that it wouldn't be cool, but Zach had insisted that Tommy was okay and Casey had dropped the argument. The boys had arrived on their bikes well ahead of the midnight rendezvous and had taken to playing tag amongst the dancing weeds surrounding the park. Zach had tripped over something and had dug down into the hard packed dirt, coming up with an old, odd shaped horn.

The horn was yellowed with age and had a small hole at one end, curving slightly and ending in a 3" diameter opening.

Casey had sneered that it was just an old steer horn, trying hard to appear unimpressed with his friend's find. Of course, all the park land had once been open fields, so it wasn't surprising to find remains of long dead animals scattered around, but Zach had insisted that it was a bulls horn from some great, powerful animal, his fertile imagination painting a magical picture for the other boys.

Tommy had been mesmerized by his brother's magnificent story of the great bull and the hunter who had finally brought it down. Zach had always told the best stories, ever since Tommy was little. Especially after Dad died, Tommy could remember Zach whispering bedtime stories, lulling him to sleep when everything got to be too much. When Zach had finished his tale, he held the horn to his mouth and blew into the opening, eliciting a low, eerie hum from his new found treasure.

"Gross!" had been Casey's reaction. "You have no idea where that thing's been!"

The other two boys had begun ruthlessly teasing Casey about being such a squeamish mama's boy when they suddenly heard the distant baying of dogs. Lots of dogs.

As the sounds got closer, the boys began to back towards their bikes, their heads swiveling as the snarling and barking of the dogs quickly closed in around them. A dark figure appeared at the edge of the trees and as the boys turned and raced to the clearing where they'd dropped their rides, a loud, twanging snap was heard followed by a sharp cry and thud. Tommy had stopped and turned, his eyes going wide, the breath freezing in his throat as he saw Zach on the ground, a long shaft that looked just like an arrow, protruding from his back. His head was tilted toward Tommy and the younger boy could see that his brother's eyes were open. But Zach couldn't see him. Somehow, Tommy knew he'd never see anything again.

A sound drew Tommy's attention and he focused on the tree line, his heart crawling into his throat as the dark figure slowly started toward them.

Casey had let out a scream and turned, yelling at Tommy to forget his bike and run. Tommy had taken a last look at his brother as the dark figure drew closer. His heart thudded in his chest as he began to back away. He tripped once, then scrambled to his feet and began to sprint as fast as his legs would carry him back toward the road. Although he was smaller, he quickly caught up to Casey and neither boy dared to stop until they had reached the edge of the park, crossed the road and landed on the steps of St. John's Church.

Singer Salvage, South Dakota

Sam Winchester wound his way through the sea of metal, steadfastly working his way toward the tinny sound of Three Dog Night floating across the junkyard. He couldn't help but smile as his brother's voice howled along with the chorus of the classic song coming from the old radio.

"Ow-a-oo-oo-oo-oo-yeah-yeah-yeah-yeah-yeah…"

Sam recognized the song as one of the few classics their dad had joined in on when they were kids. Long night drives in the Impala were some of the best times they had had as a family when he and Dean were little. They had usually cranked the radio, singing as loud as they could, in an effort to help keep their dad alert behind the wheel, until he could find them a cheap motel to bed down for the night. It wasn't a normal way for two kids to grow up, but it was all they'd had. At the time, Sam hadn't known that he was missing out on anything, but as he'd gotten older, the drives had become more tense and filled with resentment. The music had become more of a crutch than anything, filling the space instead of words.

If only he'd known then what he knew now.

"We're on the road to Shambala….."

The waves of rusting metal finally parted and Sam was met with the sight of his brother, shirtless, covered in grease, dirt and sweat, leaning under the open hood of his car. Dean's attention was directed toward the back of the engine, where he was straining to tighten something Sam had no desire to understand, but he looked up as he sensed his brother's presence.

"Hey," Sam acknowledged, stopping just shy of the circle of tools that littered the ground around the Impala.

"Hey," Dean responded. He returned his attention to the engine, giving the wrench in his hands a last firm tug before straightening up and turning to face his brother.

Dean had decided after their last case that the Impala was in need of some TLC. Sam, never as in tune with the classic car's shudders and moans like his brother, hadn't noticed anything wrong with the Chevy, but knew Dean's penchant for keeping the car in top shape was one thing that made their lives a little easier. The Impala was their home, and if Dean wanted to work on it until it hummed smooth as silk, so be it. Of course, his attachment to it was sometimes a little creepy, but, Sam had to admit, it was one cool ride.

He'd just never admit that to Dean.

Sam pulled at his thin t-shirt, the heat and humidity of the late summer afternoon causing the fabric to stick to his skin the minute he had stepped out of Bobby's air conditioned house. It was only a window air conditioner, but it managed to keep the lower level pretty comfortable, and, on days like today, Sam was grateful for even the slightest hint of coolness the noisy old box could produce.

His brother, on the other hand, had decided to spend his day in the sweltering heat, buried under the hood of his baby. Sam noticed that Dean had shed his shirt not long after starting the tune-up, and the gray t-shirt now hung from his back pocket, covered with streaks of grease and grime. Apparently, Dean had had a problem distinguishing his wardrobe from the garage rags Bobby had lying around the place. Sam winced as he noted the pink skin already showing on his brother's shoulders and back.

"You could've at least pulled the car into the shade before you tore it apart," he scolded, knowing the discomfort the sunburn would bring his brother later.

Unlike Sam and their father, Dean had been cursed with fair skin and freckles and had always burned easily in the sun. Sam could remember quite a few times when Dean had been in real pain due to a bad sunburn when they were kids. Sunscreen hadn't exactly been on the top of Dad's list of necessities and Dean had eventually taken to wearing t-shirts despite the heat whenever they were outside for long periods of time – except for when the heat had become unbearably stifling. Like now.

Dean squinted up into the cloudless sky, frowning at the sun which had begun it's slow descent behind the rows of old rusted wrecks that lined Bobby's salvage yard.

"It was in the shade, Sammy. Damn sun moved." He gave Sam a grin before pulling his shirt from his back pocket and using it to wipe down the wrench.

Sam shook his head fondly. "Yeah, it sometimes does that, Dean." Dean had a tendency to get completely involved when it came to his car – actually, any car. It was Dean's escape, Sam had his books, with Dean, it was engines. Elbow deep in grease and tools was the one way Dean was able to forget reality, and considering the darkness that composed their reality, who could deny him that?

Sam wiped the sweat from his forehead and got back to the business at hand. "Bobby brought back some steaks from town. He's gonna toss 'em on the grill."

Dean nodded, wiping his hands on his greasy t-shirt. "Sounds good. I'm pretty much done here." He looked at Sam with guarded hope in his green eyes. "What about you? Find anything interesting?"

Sam had been spending most of his time between hunts pouring through Bobby's extensive library, trying to learn everything he could about demons. He had promised his brother he would find a way to get him out of the deal he had made with the crossroads demon, and he was determined to keep his promise.

"Demons aren't really fond of fire," he offered with a shrug. So far, his research hadn't really turned up much of anything they hadn't already known about demons, but Sam was just beginning to dig into the tomes of knowledge that cluttered Bobby's house. He was not going to give up. Not ever. Not when there was so much at stake. There was still time. He was going to save Dean – even if he had to march into hell himself to do it.

Dean glanced down at his hands, effectively covering his disappointment. "Fire, huh?" He pursed his lips, considering the information before bringing his eyes back up to meet his brother's. "That's kind of ironic when you think about it." He grinned, and his eyebrows danced, assuring his sibling that his faith was still in tact.

Sam nodded and returned the grin. "Yeah. It won't kill them, but apparently they tend to avoid it. It has something to do with the elements of nature, you know, fire, water, earth, air… but I haven't really found much to go on." Sam's voice held an apology that Dean obviously picked up on.

"We still have plenty of time, Sammy," Dean echoed Sam's earlier thoughts. He tossed the wrench onto a pile and closed the hood of the Impala. Patting Sam's chest as he walked by, Dean grinned up at his taller brother. "Come on, We'd better get washed up before Bobby turns those steaks into charcoal."

TBC