Chapter Two

Sam

"Dean! Did you see it? Where'd it go?" I yelled, gun at the ready, as I ran past the dumpster to where the alley met the sidewalk. We'd followed the, whatever it was, into what could definitely be called the 'iffy and disreputable' part of Vancouver. The whole area was a maze of old warehouses, tight alleyways and abandoned shops. To make things even more fun, it was almost midnight, and there were more broken streetlights than working ones…awesome.

"Yeah, for a sec, some sort of shimmer." Dean muttered, out of breath. "I don't get it man," he looked around the alley and up the sidewalk, "this thing moved from town to town at warp speed and now, we're chasing it on foot? What gives?" He scowled and put his gun into the back of his jeans.

I turned around to look down the other end of the sidewalk. "Wait, look over there." Dean spun back around as I pointed to the warehouse that was only about five hundred feet away from us, and had some eerie, bright white light shining through the large, dirty windows. "I'm pretty sure condemned warehouses don't have electricity."

"Huh. Pretty sure you're right…" and took his gun back out of jeans. "Let's go before we lose him again."

We pulled open the rusty metal door and the hinges gave a squeal of protest, making us both wince, then carefully, stepped inside, guns at the ready. It looked like the standard old factory / warehouse or whatever this place had been. It was dark, except for the suspicious white light coming from the front of the building, the floor was covered with a thin layer of grime and garbage, decrepit machinery, old scaffolding was spread out randomly and cat walks ran evenly spaced across the width of the building. Oh, and that wonderful smell of general squalor. I looked to my right and

Dean gave a silent 'forward' gesture.

Getting low, we weaved through the old machinery and discarded boxes, stopping just behind the wide-open space of what seemed to formerly have been a loading area. In front of the wide loading doors was an eight foot tall, shimmering circle, in front of which stood a guy with messy, shoulder length blonde hair, wearing clothes that looked like he'd just finished a very intense DnD game, and an old school harp slung across his back, his arms spread wide, chanting a spell.

"Witch." Dean mouthed with a grimace and disgusted eye roll.

"I don't think so…" I whispered back. "This is heavy duty magic."

We crouch walked a few more feet until we were leaning, arms poised on the side of a fork lift. Still not a clean shot, but close enough.

"On three." Dean mouthed.

I nodded.

"One, two, three." Dean and I sprang up and crossed into the loading area, him on the left and me on the right. We shot at the same time, but, while mine went wide, Dean's shot hit the guy's leg. Which interrupted his casting and for sure, pissed him off.

He hissed, grabbed at his leg then whipped around to face us, and with an angry swipe of his hand, threw Dean fifteen feet across the room into some boxes. The guy gave me a quick angry glare with his strikingly gem-like amber eyes. Not a demon. He was also way too pretty to be human.

"Dean!" I shouted across the room. He shoved up to sitting. He was ok. I fired at harp guy, but I was a second too late. A flash of white light blinded me and the formerly blank circle, now looked like the most complex devil's trap that I'd ever seen, with runes and symbols I'd never encountered. I charged closer and fired five more times, and each bullet bounced off of some kind of shield.

"The Stargate, Sammy!" I looked quickly to my left and saw Dean running toward the circle, swiping his gun of the floor as he went.

Without looking back, harp guy strode confidently through the gate, with Dean and me running right on his heels.

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