Chasing Clouds - prologue
Fandom: Supernatural AU
Characters series: Reader, Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, John Winchester, Ash Miles, Rufus Turner, Bobby Singer, Donna Hanscum, Jody Mills, Ellen Harvelle, Jo Harvelle, Benny Lafitte, Cas Novek (endverse), and many more.
Timeline: 2006
Pairing: Dean x Reader (eventually)
Word count: ± 2000 words
Summary series: Stormchasing is in Dean’s blood. His father raised him and his younger brother Sam on the road, taking every opportunity to hunt down tornadoes and warn people in its path. When a storm hits a camping ground, they run into a young traveler with nowhere else to go. Y/N joins the Winchesters on their stormchase journey, growing closer to the brothers, especially to Dean. Will the two allow their love for each other to grow, despite their dangerous lives and the losses they have suffered? It will all come to the test during the deadliest tornado season in American history.
Summary prologue: The Winchesters are on the hunt, chasing down a tornado in Oklahoma. It seems like the perfect storm, until disaster hits from an unexpected direction.
Warnings series: NSFW, 18+ only! Fluff, angst, eventually smut. Detailed description of injury, disaster zones and mass-casualty events. Hospital scenes, car crashes, building collapse/claustrophobic situations. Character death, grief. Crying, nightmares, trauma. Mentions of overdose, suicide. Swearing, alcohol intoxication, smoking.
Music: Ain't No Love In Oklahoma by Luke Combs
Author’s note: Thank you @winchest09 for helping me take this story to a higher level.
Apocalyptic clouds stretch out over yellow wheat fields, the farm lands illuminated by the setting sun that shines its rays from the clear skies in the west. The brightly lit crops are soon to be harvested, but it will have to wait until Mother Nature is done causing havoc on the earth below.
It’s May 2006, and tornado season is well on its way in the state of Oklahoma. So far, it has been relatively quiet, which is never a good sign when it comes to the weather. Now, the air is thick with moist, warm temperatures a perfect fuel for the firework show that is about to ignite. 'The calm before the storm' is a saying for good reason.
A lightning strike hits in the distance, splitting the pitch black scene in half for a fraction of a second. A deep, crackling thunder follows moments later, as if a monster is warning those who disturb it with a low and frightening growl. The wind begins to pick up, the fields of golden crop swaying and rippling like small waves on the ocean. The enormous storm-system drifts in at what seems to be a slow pace, but in fact, the front is moving at about forty-five miles an hour.
Above the low-hanging threat, cauliflower-shaped clouds climb fifty thousand feet into the atmosphere, accentuated with pink and orange as if the skies have been painted by an artist. A masterpiece that one would watch and appreciate, if it wasn’t for the looming danger it is creating. Because inside the belly of the beast, the motions are spiraling, tighter and tighter, until a finger reaches down towards the soil.
Dean Winchester is the first to notice the rotating dust clouds in the field, a couple of hundred yards from the road he’s driving on. With one hand on the wheel he speeds down Highway 9, going east. The live broadcast from the weather radio mixed with static echoes through the car, the monotone voice naming the areas at risk. While keeping the old GMC Sierra Grande on the road, he catches another glance at the twirling gusts that pick up wheat and sand.
“Where?” John asks from the passenger seat, his dark voice laced with anticipation.
“Eight O’clock,” his oldest son elaborates.
He can tell his father has spotted the circulation on the flat lands to their left. “Sammy, are you getting this?”
“Yes, Sir!”
On the back seat, Dean’s younger brother Sam has rolled down the window and is recording the birth of the twister with his camcorder. His hair flaunts in the wind that is gushing into the twenty-year-old truck, keeping the brown strands from his eyes. He has an excited smile on his face as he holds the camera steady, capturing how the twisting wallcloud descents further.
“Almost fully condensed now!” he shouts, thrilled.
John glances back at the road map in his lap while pulling his phone from his pocket. With one finger lingering on their current location, he dials 9-1-1 and holds the Nokia to his ear.
“Yeah, hello? This is John Winchester, I’m a weather spotter. There’s a tornado on the ground in Kiowa County, Oklahoma, just outside of Lone Wolf. Going west,” the seasoned stormchaser reports, “Yes, I have my eyes on it right now. Cone-shaped tornado, high velocities...”
While his father continues to give the exact coordinates to the 9-1-1 operator, the driver peers out his side window again. The rotating storm has evolved from a dusty whirlwind to a profound twister, violently picking up everything in its path. Thankfully, all that’s circulating around the tall cone is earth and grass, but he knows from experience that this freak of nature will do much more damage if it reaches the civilized world. For now he can appreciate this phenomenon, though, because out here in the middle of nowhere, it’s not doing any harm.
“Son of a bitch, what a beauty!” he exclaims when John has hung up.
“It doesn’t get any better than this, boys,” their old man states.
“Do we have time to stop?”
Dean glances in his rear view mirror at his younger brother, twenty-three years old, but seemingly a little kid right now. Then his gaze shifts at the storm over his left shoulder. The rear flank downdraft will not take long to reach them, but he figures he can steal a minute. Before he pulls over, he checks with his Dad, their eyes connecting and the silent question answered with a nod of the head.
“Stay close, though, Sam,” John warns as the car slows down.
Before the car comes to a full stop, Sam has opened the door and almost trips over his long legs as he gets out, still armed with his camcorder. Dean chuckles at the clumsiness of his sibling, gathers his Nikon camera from the backpack behind the seat and gets out himself, the moist air instantly hitting him. His father follows suit, watching the gorgeous display over the hood of the truck. It’s a magnificent sight, probably one of the most photogenic tornadoes they have ever witnessed.
From a relatively safe distance, the Winchester brothers use the short time they have to record one of nature’s most intriguing weather events. The swirling twister moves through the open fields, highlighted by the last rays of light, standing out significantly against the dark rain curtains wrapped around its backside. It’s hypnotizing, marveling, a privilege to watch.
Dean holds his camera in front of his face, adjusting the lens slightly as he focuses on the display in front of him. He snaps a couple of photos, zooms out and shoots a few more from a different angle, using the golden wheat as a foreground to show the huge contrast between light and darkness. Satisfied with the result, he lowers the Nikon again, his narrowed stare lingering on the grey curtain, closing in on them from northwest. He uses the power poles that are situated next to the highway - two hundred feet between each - to determine the distance to the rear flank downdraft. The wall of wind, rain and hail approaches fast, rushing in like a tsunami.
“C’mon, Sammy. We gotta go,” he says. “RFD is comin’ in fast.”
The breeze begins to tussle his short blonde hair, the warm air moving past him into the storm. Holding the Nikon by the grip, he opens the car door with his free hand, unable to take his eyes off the dark rotating clouds. While Sam stops recording and returns to the GMC truck, Dean exchanges another look with his only living parent. Something happens in that wordless connection between father and son. A small smile, a glint in their eyes. These are the days they will remember.
With the rear flank downdraft fast approaching in his rearview mirror, Dean puts the car in ‘drive’ and hits the gas. Marbles skid from under the big truck’s offroad wheels before they catch a grip on the asphalt. Relieved to be able to put some distance between them and the front, he speeds up towards the small settlement of Lone Wolf.
“Where’s it heading?” John asks his youngest son, glancing over his shoulder.
Sam, a second-year meteorology student, glances at the sky, reading the motions and the signs. Before he answers, he checks their navigational system and the latest radar image on his Blackberry, which was just sent to him by their chaserfriend Ash through email.
“Still westbound, slightly north now, about fifteen degrees,” he says.
“Towards town?” Dean assumes, which Sam confirms.
John’s eyes turn worrisome. “You boys better pray it lifts before it hits.”
The weather Gods have heard their prayers, because about a mile and a half before Lone Wolf, the tornado starts to change shape. The cone becomes slimmer, taking a turn towards the north as the supercell above begins to show characteristics of weakening. The tight rotation seems less organized, shifting into a rope.
“Holy shit! Look at her go!” Dean says, grinning at the sight.
“It’s incredible!” Sam exclaims, holding his camera up to record the stunning scene.
The twister gives them an encore as the watertower of Lone Wolf comes into view. A long, white shake of condensed air and dust twirls on the surface, bending and curling as if it’s alive. Laughter fills the truck, both of joy and disbelief, because in all their years of chasing storms, none of the Winchesters have ever seen anything like it. Like an ice skater doing pirouettes, the small tornado lifts, then drops down and rises up again.
“Should we take a northern route?” Dean asks his father, having trouble concentrating on the road.
“No, go through town in case it regenerates,” John decides, ducking his head to watch the beautiful sight through the driver side window.
The black 1986 Sierra Grande races towards Lone Wolf, houses and farms coming into view on both sides of the road. Tornado sirens can be heard through Sam’s open window, the ominous sound growing louder as they get closer. The dying funnel begins to dissipate, lifting entirely before causing harm. Unable to comprehend what just happened, Dean lets out a loud ‘Yahoo!’ which pulls a deep laughter from John.
“That was insane!” Sam shouts, running his hands through his hair in disbelief.
“Good job, boys,” their father praises, throwing them both a proud smile.
A warm feeling begins to grow inside Dean’s chest, checking in the mirror if Sam is experiencing the same. Compliments from their old man come rare. John has taught them the ropes of stormchasing with a combination of passion, determination and discipline. The two young boys tagging along in the back seat grew up and have become two important pillars of their mission, each of the Winchester brothers with their own talents. Sam’s excellent weather forecasts and ability to read radar and weather, Dean’s skill behind the wheel and with a camera, not to mention his smart and fast decision making. It hasn’t always been easy, but they wouldn’t want it any other way. The three of them, on the road, chasing extreme weather.
Grain silos and American Elm guard the road towards an intersection right before entering town. A short, glistening light pulls Dean’s attention away from the tornado that has almost roped out completely. The sun reflects on the chrome bullbar of a car, a pickup truck coming from the right at high speed. The feeling of euphoria that had the oldest Winchester brother high a second ago is instantly gone, replaced by pure terror that has his heart drop to his stomach. In an instant reflex, he pumps the brakes hard, but it’s too late. With a crash louder than any thunder they have ever heard, the large RAM charges into the side of their car like a freight train, the impact so immense that it bends the metal frame of their seemingly invincible vehicle like it has been made out of clay.
Screeching tires, glass shattering, a frightened cry from his little brother in the back seat; Dean is eerily aware of the sounds of destruction, even after he hits his head hard against the steering wheel. Pain rips through his skull and down his spine like he has been struck by lightning.
It takes merely seconds before the two collided cars come to a stop, but to Dean, it seems agonizingly long. The driver of John’s GMC is barely conscious when a heavy silence falls over the intersection, the dust settling on the dramatic scene. The absence of his family’s voices ignites a fear that has him screaming of agony internally, but nothing comes out of his mouth. Unable to move or open his eyes, he hopes to detect any sign of life from the only two people that are dear to him, but the quietude is deafening. All he can hear are the tornado sirens of the town of Lone Wolf wailing for the fallen and the broken, before he blacks out completely.
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