So as I said in the last Chapter of Blood Bonds, this next part of the Angels and Demons story is actually two separate parts. I posted Knockin' on Heaven's door yesterday, and so today I am posting the first chapter of Shotgun Sinners. AS i said, I have been waiting to write this one for quite some time, and am thrilled that I've finally gotten to it in the series. thanks for reading, and if you enjoyed it even in the slightest, let me know. bambers;)

Shotgun Sinners, Wild-Eyed Jokers

Chapter One

Dean awoke with an abrupt gasp, drawing in a lung full of air and instantly started to cough. Thick, acrid smoke filled his lungs, and stung at his eyes as he pried them open to figure out where he was, but couldn't see anything beyond a wall of rolling smoke and golden-orange flames. Thunderous explosions rocked the earth as the flames grew more intense, licking at the ground not more than twenty feet away from where he lay on the icy cold snow.

The last thing he recalled was being at Rowan's cabin, and then everything slipped away as he'd felt himself dying, and momentarily wondered if he was dead and was in Hell. If the nearly unbearable heat that scorched his face and body was any indication, he would have to say that was exactly where he was, but that wouldn't explain away the snowbank he now found himself perched upon.

The sky appeared blood red, edged with inky blackness as gale-force winds drove the flames ever higher into the night. Amidst the din, he faintly heard the sounds of people screaming, and saw them desperately trying to scamper away from the wall of fire surrounding them.

"Where the hell am I?" he muttered as another explosion, shot sparks and flames more than fifty feet into the darkened sky.

"New York City," came a familiar voice from right behind him, and he shifted in his seat to see Michael standing behind him.

"Not possible, where's the Empire State building then?"

"Guess I should say, New York City in 1835."

Dean lifted a brow as he wiggled an index finger against his ear, thinking he must have somehow misheard the archangel due to the deafening roar of the fire. "O-kay," he uttered, in clear disbelief, "I so have to be delirious cause I could've sworn I just heard you say 1835."

"No, you heard me correctly." Michael squat beside Dean, and gestured toward the burning city. "From December 16th to the 17th there was a great fire in New York City. If you look over that way," he pointed off to the right, and then continued, "it started there in a warehouse at 25 Merchant Street and quickly spread to engulf much of the city. Recorded history stated that the cause of the fire as a gaspipe that burst and ignited a coal stove, but if you look just a bit further down the road, you might just see a familiar face."

Dean squinted and could just make out the image of a man strolling amongst the writhing flames as if it were the most natural thing for him be doing, and he instantly realized that it had to be a demon possessing a man. "Lucifer?" was the first name that came to mind, but when Michael shook his head, he uttered the second name that had been so much apart of his life that he was somewhat shocked that he hadn't said it first. "The Yellow-Eyed Demon."

"Azazel," Michael clarified.

"So why am I here?" Dean asked as he continued to watch the demon.

Michael shrugged. "Well, I figured this was as good of a starting place as any."

"I'm dreaming, right?"

"No, I guess I would say you're in a dual reality. Time is moving on in the future with you in it, but you're also moving forward in time here as well."

"Okay, so I'm now officially all kinds of crazy cause this is so not possible."

"Well, I've questioned your sanity on many occasions, but this time is definitely not one of them." Michael chuckled, the laughing grin gracing his face softening his hardened features considerably.

Dean furrowed a brow in confusion as he glanced around and found that nothing looked even remotely familiar "How's this even possible?"

Michael was silent for the longest time as he studied Dean, and then he finally heaved a weary sigh. Scrubbing a hand across his stubbled jaw, he said, "There was a moment while you were sick where you hovered between life and death. Uriel chose that very second to pull a part of your essence from your body and cast it back in time so you could complete this mission."

"So what you're saying is that this is just like one very huge-assed out-of-body experience?"

"Pretty much."

"How the hell do I get back to my own time?"

"Sometimes, Dean, understanding comes from sacrifice . . . giving everything without having any clue as to what the outcome of that sacrifice will be."

"So, I guess that's your roundabout way of saying I have to figure it out myself, right?"

"Yeah, that's exactly what I'm saying." Michael laughed heartily, the deep rich sound of it filling the cold night air. "But I have faith in you, Dean. You'll do just fine."

"What do I have to do?"

"I've brought you here on a matter of utmost importance, and you can't afford to fail me on this matter." He stood and held out a hand to help Dean to his feet. "As you already know the legend of the Colt, I don't think I need to go into much detail about it. But there are other things that happened during this time period that far outrank the importance of that gun, and they're the reason you're here."

"What kinds of things?" Dean once again eyed the burning city, and for a moment was held mesmerized by the sight of the copper roofing as it melted off some of the buildings to pool on the ground.

"The Ark of thy God's strength was secreted into America not very long ago by those who would guard it with their lives."

Dean shrugged as he glanced toward the building where the fire had begun, and wondered if the Ark Michael had spoken of was inside the crumbling walls of the structure. "I'm so not following you here. What does this have to do with me? My job was to guard Jay for six months, an' I can't see how this relates to that."

"Maybe I should make this a little more clear for you. I'm referring to the Ark of the Covenant." Michael paused to clear his throat, and to give Dean time to fully digest the importance of the information he had just imparted. "I need you to find out where it is, and then hide it away where no one would ever think to look for it until such a time as you need to open it in the future."

Dean's mouth dropped open as he stared incredulously at the archangel. "Do I look like Indiana Jones to you?"

"No, you look like the man who's gonna do exactly as I tell you to do if you ever want to go back to your own time in history."

"How am I suppose to find it?"

"If I were you, I would start by talking to the one person you know who would be around in 1835." Michael gestured toward the fire again, and Dean turned his head just in time to see a dark-haired man with a soot-covered face sprinting toward him.

"Rowan?" He glanced back to question Michael, but the angel had disappeared. "This is so not good. I'm never gonna find this damn thing. An' how the hell am I suppose to explain to Rowan that I'm from the future without sounding like some sort of complete whack job?"

Although he didn't have the time to consider a plan of action as Rowan reached him, grabbed hold of his arm and practically dragged him further away from the burning city. "Sammy, what the hell are you doin' here?" he shouted back over his shoulder. "Thought you an' your brother were headin' for Connecticut?"

"Sammy?" Dean dug his heels into the snow-covered ground, stopped dead in his tracks, and jerked free of Rowan's hold on him. "I'm Dean, Rowan."

Rowan swung to stare at him, and a look of brief confusion registered in his gleaming green eyes. "What the hell are you talkin' about? Did ya hit your head or something?" He narrowed his eyes as he looked more closely at Dean. "An' what in the name of all that is holy are you wearing?"

Dean glanced down at his clothing, but couldn't find anything wrong with his jeans, Metallica t-shirt, and leather jacket. "What are you talkin' about?"

"This." Rowan fisted the collar of Dean's t-shirt, and pulled him closer to him. "What the hell is Metallica, an' how did ya get it printed on your shirt?"

"I bought it this way at a Metallica concert." Dean furrowed a brow as he realized it would be nearly a hundred and fifty years before the heavy metal group came into existence. "An' you totally have no idea what I'm talkin' about here, do you?"

"Ya know what I think?" Rowan quirked a brow as he studied Dean carefully. "I think you hit your head, got a concussion, an' now your babblin' like a dang fool."

"Listen, I know you're probably not gonna believe this, but I'm not Sam," Dean began, figuring he might as well try and tell his friend the truth of the situation. "I'm Dean Winchester, and since you're the only person I know who's alive at the moment, I really need your help."

Rowan stared at Dean for a moment, and then burst out laughing. "Did Seth put you up to this?" he uttered between laughs. "Damn, an' here I almost fell for it for a minute, too."

"Who's Seth?" Dean searched his memory, trying to recall if Rowan had ever mentioned a Seth in all their conversations, but couldn't remember him ever talking about the man in question.

"Your younger brother. Tall, dark hair, hazel eyes, looks a lot like Michael Dean. Any of this ringing a bell for ya?"

"Look," Dean heaved a groan, nearing the end of his patience. "I'm trying to tell you that I'm not Thomas Samuel. I don't belong here, an' the only reason I even know who you are is cause in about a hundred and seventy years from now, we become friends."

The green-eyed vampire stared at Dean long and hard, and then shook his head. "Nice try, Sammy. You almost had me going there for a second."

"I'm not lying to you, Rowan, an' you've gotta believe me cause you're the only one who can help me."

A frown creased Rowan's brow as he considered the possibility of what Dean had just said. "It's not possible. I'll be long gone by then."

"It's the truth, an' I know it sounds all kinds of crazy, but you have to believe me." Dean hesitated for a moment, hating the idea of having to tell Rowan that his plan to end his own life would fail, but realized he had no choice. "I know you think the Colt can kill anything, but it's not gonna work on you."

"You don't know that," Rowan snarled, his voice turning low and deadly as he turned his back on Dean.

"Ask me anything about you, Rowan. Ask me something only you would know, an' if I'm wrong then just leave me here, but if I'm right, you have to promise to help me."

Rowan swung back to glare at Dean, and then hesitated as he bit pensively at his lower lip. "I've never told anyone my real name or how I became a vampire. So if you can tell me those two things, then I'll believe you."

Dean let out a thankful sigh, more than just a little relieved that Rowan had chosen two questions he knew the answer to. "Your real name is Judas Iscariot . . . an' as punishment for betraying Jesus you were eternally damned by Michael to witness what you had done to mankind."

The vampire drew in a sharp breath as he narrowed his eyes on Dean. "I never told anyone that . . . not even Micheal Dean. How could you possibly know that?"

"Cause like I've been trying to tell you for past five minutes, I'm from the future, an' whether you choose to it believe or not, you're my best friend." Dean paused for a moment to allow his words to sink in, and then added, "I'm pretty damn sure, you're familiar with Archangel Michael, right?"

"Yeah," Rowan conceded, now eying Dean suspiciously. "But what does he have to do with this."

"Well, he sent me back here to find the Ark of the Covenant, an' he seemed to think you might know where it is."

"Even if I did, I wouldn't tell you where it is." Rowan pivoted on his heel and strode away from Dean, calling back over his shoulder, "An' the Colt will kill anything, an' that includes me."

"Why?" Dean rushed to catch up with Rowan, not about to let the vampire leave without taking him along. "Because some damn demon told you it would work?"

Rowan abruptly stopped dead in his tracks, grabbed hold of Dean by the neck, and hefted him several inches off the ground. "How'd you know a demon gave me the instructions on how to build the Colt?"

"Cause I just don't think an' angel like Michael would give you false hope that it would end your suffering."

"Let me make one thing perfectly clear to you, Dean, or whatever your real name is." His hold around Dean's neck tightened. "I don't like you, an' I highly doubt I would ever change my mind about that no matter how long I might live. So if you think I'm gonna help you find anything, you've got another damn thing coming."

As Dean's mind raced to figure out a way to get Rowan to help him, he spied his amulet dangling from around the older vampire's neck, and a plan began to form in his mind. "If you help me, I'll tell you a way you can die, an' I know for sure it'll kill you. An' if you don't believe me, you could always ask Michael cause he's the one who told me it would work."

"How?" Rowan's eyes briefly lit with hope, and Dean almost felt bad for lying to him, but he had no intention of ever telling him how the amulet would save him from living forever.

"Help me first, an' then I'll tell you."

"Alright, I'll make a deal with you," Rowan said as he set Dean down, and once again picked up his pace and Dean followed. "If the Colt doesn't work, I'll help you find the Ark."

"I don't have that kind of time," Dean blurted out, "You may not get this, but things are pretty damn bad in the future, an' I need to know where the Ark is now."

"Then I guess this means we're at a stalemate, Dean." Rowan smirked as he headed further down the road. "You want something from me, an' if you're telling the truth then I definitely want something from you, so I just guess we'll have to see who breaks first."