Prologue
The Black Chevy Impala sailed across the desolate highway, wheels spewing rainwater into the starless sky, smoke spurting out into the obsidian night. The still autumn air hummed with the cadence of the rumbling engine. The long stretch of pavement lay between two strips of forest on either side. The leaves had begun to blur between spectrums, and crimson, pumpkin, and yellow leaves littered the barren roadway, spinning in brisk gusts of wind.
"What the hell Dean," Sam yawned, his feet propped on the dashboard as he leaned back in the chair, stretching, "It's 3 in the morning, couldn't this have waited 'till sunrise at least?"
"Get your feet off there," Dean grunted, shifting his weight as he steered towards the exit, "It was important."
"Yeah, well we can't just be on the road all the time you know. Every once in a while we need to just take a break," Sam turned his face towards Dean, sliding his feet off the dash.
"You didn't hear the call, so shut up and go back to sleep if that's what's pissin' you off."
"Fine then, what's so special about this one?"
"It-" Dean bit the inside of his mouth, his hands tight on the wheel, "I just want to know if it's possible."
"We're up in the dead of night because you got curious? C'mon Dean, really?"
"You. Didn't. Hear. The. Call. Alright? Just go to sleep, we've still got a good hour or so. All backroads now though, so don't get hissy if you wake up 'cause your head got knocked against the door."
"M'kay then." Sam propped his feet back on the dash and slid back in the seat. Dean looked disapprovingly at him and sighed, but didn't bring it back up.
The headlights glinted off the glossy pavement as the charcoal sky opened up and rain began to pound on the roof of the car, windshield wipers swishing back and forth as rain spilled across the glass. Dean clutched the wheel tighter, his eyelids pulled back as he ran through the possibilities. Sure, it could be... but it was most likely not. No point getting worked up over something that could easily be nothing more than an overactive imagination.
He rolled his shoulders out and readjusted the mirror. The rain was getting heavier, and he had to squint to see through the cascading sheets that slid off the windshield. The headlights were just wavering beams on the darkened street, the landscape was smudged beyond recognition, like a smearing watercolor painting. He slowed the car down, but continued to drive, biting his lip as he drove through the now thickened forest, branches pulled into the road by the vigorous wind, shredding leaves in roadside ditches and snapping twigs off their trunks.
If this got much worse, driving would be impossible. There had to be a town nearby, or at least someplace to pull over. Sure, this was important, but if they weren't alive to see it, there was no point.
The roadsigns were all obscured by layers of rain, but he managed to make out a name, Welcome To Sleepy Hollow.