Sinister and Sensibility (Supernatural x Gilmore Girls Crossover)

Chapter 2

    Screams erupted into the darkness. Soldiers in blue and red military coats ran for their lives, their hands grasping their rifles in fear. The calm silence that surrounded the men moments before had been ripped away, leaving them in a stumbling mess of bodies. They slipped and fell, struggling to get away, the fresh snow slowing their escape.

A heavy-set, older man on horseback darted through the crowd, shouting for people to take shelter and lock their doors. His rifle bounced violently against his back, his gloved hand pointing in the direction of the courthouse wanting the soldiers to follow his lead.

A young man pulled a beautiful girl in a red victorian dress by the hand as she tripped on her skirts. The corset constricted her ability to lean forward and hike up her petticoats as she tried desperately to keep up with her partner. A woman in a tattered white dress apeeared in front of them, cutting off their path to safety. The couple came careening to a halt in the snow. The girl screamed and cried as she tugged on her partner's arm.

"I've got you, Lulu," the man said, shifting her behind him so that he was positioned directly in front of the woman, who almost imediately thrust her hand into his chest. She yanked it back out seconds later, his heart now clutched in her thin, pale hand as his blood splattered messily onto her already filthy dress. The man's body crumpled and fell to the ground, blood pluming around him in the now tainted snow. Lulu dropped to her knees, throwing herself down over his body, her sobs echoing in the air around them.

A man in a worn leather jacket barreled forward, slashing at the woman with a long iron candlestick, the woman wailing in pain before evaporating in a cloud of mist in front of them. The man dropped his arm in exhaustion, staring down at the couple before turning to assess the chaos around him, revealing a sign that said 'Welcome to Stars Hollow.'

***

Sam sat up in bed, his breathing ragged. He brushed the damp hair off of his forehead and tugged on the v-neck shirt that was currently sticking to his body. His eyes scanned the motel room frantically. He looked for things that were familiar: his duffle bag on the bench across the room, Dean's leather jacket draped half-hazardly over the back of the chair at the table, his Taurus handgun resting beside his dad's journal on the nightstand and Dean, with his rhythmic snoring that Sam only enjoyed in moments like these.

"Dean," Sam said, struggling out of the blankets that had become twisted around him. His head hurt, like he'd just had an anvil dropped on top of him. He pressed his fingers into his forehead, squeezing his eyes shut in agony. Sam reached for the lamp switch. "Dean," he said again.

Light spread across the room. Sam grabbed his gun and the old leather journal, stumbling across the room to his backpack, shoving his laptop inside. "Dude!" Dean groaned, covering his eyes with his hands. "What the hell?"

"Pack your stuff." Sam expertly folded his pajamas, placing them and his toiletries into the duffle bag, before stuffing his feet in his boots and shrugging into his usual tan jacket.

Dean sat up groggily, rubbing at his eyes and picking up his belongings from the nightstand as he watched his younger brother dash around the room. He pulled on clean clothes and glanced at the digital clock beside his bed. 4:29 A.M. "Sam, would you calm down? What's going on?"

Sam spun around, eyes wild and his jaw clenched. He blew air out of his nose angrily, the keys to the impala clutched tightly in his hand. "I can't, Dean. People are in danger, and if we don't leave now they'll die. I can't— I gotta stop it."

"How do you know this? Did someone call you? That witch is dead, man. I saw it with my own two eyes."

"No, I believe you. I'm not talking about the case."

"Then what? Did you have another one of your visions?"

Sam swallowed hard, handing Dean his jacket and car keys, scanning the room for anything they missed. "I think so," he admitted, his eyebrows pinched together. Sharp flashes of what he saw passed across his periphery: the frightened crowd, the soldier's heart being ripped out of his chest, the girl crying over his body and the stained snow spread out around them like a bloody halo.

"You think so? You're gonna have to give me more than that, man."

"I saw Revolutionary War soldiers running for their lives from a woman in a white dress. And then, I saw her ripping hearts out." Sam flipped his phone open, scrolling through his contact list as he made his way out to the parking lot.
    Dean laughed humorlessly, shaking his head as he followed in his brother's wake. "Hate to burst your bubble, but I think you're a few centuries late, Sammy."

"That's the thing. I saw you fighting the ghost."
    Dean stared at Sam, watching his brother stash his duffle in the trunk. "What? What are saying? I take a trip to 1776?"

"You were somewhere called Stars Hollow. I'm gonna call Bobby and ask if he knows anything about the town's history."

"Were you just planning to drive to the past? I don't know if you've noticed or not, but we don't exactly have a DeLorean sitting in the parking lot for us. Unless you know something I don't, and Bobby has one stashed on his property."

Sam lowered his phone from his ear, Bobby not picking up. "What? We're just driving to Connecticut, Dean. It was just a reenactment. I think." Sam moved passed Dean, sliding into the shotgun seat and dialing Bobby's number again.

Dean's face twisted into an expression of confusion and annoyance at his brother's vague and not so helpful explanations. "Again with the 'you think,'" Dean sighed, getting into the car and swinging them around roughly and speeding out on to the main road like a bat out of hell.