This is still just chapters 1-5 with a few additional scenes, but here it is, the Twine Demo.
I am working on chapter 6 as we speak, and I hope to get that out by the beginning of August, but it's a busy month so I won't make any promises, but you can play the twine release now!
Family and tradition are the two most essential things Wilhelm must uphold in his adult life, which he takes very seriously. When he was younger, however… not so much.
Through flashes to the past, follow the story of Simon and Wilhelm’s summer of love as they reconnect years later, having moved on with their lives despite always wondering what could have been. For the second time in Wilhelm’s life, his duty and burden to uphold a legacy are challenged when matched against love and what is meant to be.
Read chapter seven 'there was nowhere to go' on AO3
I’m behind on chapter 3. It’s been a busy week of projects, grading, and now exam prep. But I have also been doing quite a bit of research for the science behind the story that I want to be mostly correct or feasible (in the future). Because that’s how I roll. So to give you some idea or a taste of chapter three. Have another mood board.
Warnings: Angst, Mention of Parental death, Fluff, About as close to smut as I will ever get.
Series Summary: Dark highway, middle of the night, a bad boy driving an Impala, and a Damsel in distress. Too cliche? Think again.
A/N: I’m sorry for the delay! I had a few things to sort through, and life got too real. But I loved writing this part! hope y’all like it as much as I do <3 Beta’d by the amazing and talented @sdavid09.
Flashbacks in italics… So far they’ve been in a chronological order.
Stroke of luck Masterlist
You groaned, dreading the fact that you had to get up and adult today. There wasn't a muscle in your body that wasn't sore or aching. But in spite of the pain, you couldn't bring yourself to regret last night. Playing with Vi in the rain had been so fun and so needed. You and Vi had stumbled inside the house late into the night, impossibly wet and lumbered into your bedroom, pulling on random dry clothes over yourself and collapsing on the bed. It was the best night's sleep you’d had in a while. Most importantly, you had woken up with a clearer mind.
A groan sounded from besides you as Vi woke up and you grinned. You weren't alone in your misery.
"I don't want to go to school," she moaned, throwing her arms over her face. It made you chuckle.
"I don't want to go to work either."
"Let's just stay in bed and forget about everything. What's the worst that could happen?"
"Well, the electricity will be cut off cause we haven't paid the bills, no water, no wi-fi and we'll just rot here until the next ice-age."
"You paint a very appealing picture," Vi yawned, slowly getting up from the bed. Her every movement was punctuated with a wince. "As it happens, you're wrong. The worse that can happen is that I won't get into Stanford."
You rolled your eyes. The nerd.
“I can see that, you know,” she said, as she walked up to her room with her back towards you.
Both of you were running late as you drove towards Vi's school. You hoped that the consignment of flowers which was to be delivered today hadn't already arrived at the shop.
When you stopped in the parking lot, Vi didn't move from her seat. She was chewing at the insides of her mouth, wriggling her hands in her lap.
"What's up?" You asked.
"I don't want to go to school," she whispered, repeating her words from morning. She wasn't meeting your eyes, afraid that you would judge her for being afraid. "Those kids are mean to me, they call me names. And now that Aaron died when he was with me, it's all going to get so much worse. I… I'm scared."
"You know what I did when I was scared?"
"What?" She looked up at you.
"I called your dad," you said softly.
"Really?" Her eyes were round and eager; it made you smile. You never volunteered information about Dean. It was the perfect way to distract her.
"Yeah. This one time, I got lost while getting home from school in a new town. I was so scared. The next time that I saw your dad, he promised me he'd find me when I was lost."
Vi's eyes filled up. It tore at your heart, seeing her miss a father she'd never known. Her lips quivered and she averted her gaze. You bought your fingers to her chin, making her look into your eyes.
"Those kids are idiots. As long as its words, you walk with your head held high, cause you’ve done no wrong. If they touch one hair of your head, you break their bones. I'll stand with you, but don't you give up without a fight. You gotta face things head on, Sammy. There's no point running away from them. They'll only chase you, and if you manage to shirk them away, there will always be a "what if…" to haunt you for the rest of your life." You realized weren’t talking about Vi’s problem anymore...
"You really believe in that?" Vi asked you. You knew exactly what she was hinting at.
"I do," you smiled, nodding at her. She understood, smiling back in acknowledgement. You'd follow what you had told your daughter. Next time that you meet Sam, and there will be a next time, you'd face him, wherever that took you.
"Hey, mom?"
"Yeah?"
"What would dad do when he was scared?"
"He'd come to me," you answered easily.
The light knock on the door woke you up in the middle of the night. The moment you became aware of the noise on the door, your senses went into a hyper alert. No one was going to visit you this late into the night.
You quietly got out of the bed and pulled out your father's gun from underneath the pillow. You’d been sleeping with it hidden there for the last four months, since his death. It made you feel not so alone in the quiet of dusty motel rooms, made you feel protected, like your dad was right there with you.
You clicked the safety off, and quietly made your way towards the door.
*Knock knock*.
This time the sound was louder, more desperate.
Who could it possibly be?
No one knew where you were bunking these days. You had wanted to be alone, to get over everything that had happened.
"Y/N? Open the door!" A broken voice called from outside.
Your heart clenched at the pain there. You quickly threw the gun aside, and opened the door without looking into the peephole. You knew that voice, and the helplessness in it scared you.
You opened the door to find a soaking wet Dean Winchester standing before you. His hair was dripping, and his stance was defeated. He was looking down, like he was trying to collect himself.
"Dean?" You asked, voice uncharacteristically shaky.
He didn't look up. Was he drunk?
"Dean?" You called again. "Are you okay?"
He looked up then, eyes were bloodshot. "No," he choked.
"Sam- S… Sam- " He started, but he couldn't finish it.
Fear made your throat constrict. "Sam? What happened to Sam? Is he okay?"
"Yeah," Dean cleared his throat. "Sam... he left."
Oh. The understanding hit faster than you expected.
"C'mon in," you took his hand and guided him inside. Pulling your used towel off the back of the chair, you handed it to him. Dean took it stoically.
"Won't you ask where?" Dean questioned.
"I'm sure you'll tell me when you're ready," you said softly, placing your hand on his cheek, the coarse stubble tickling your skin. He melted into your touch, closing his eyes and relishing in the warmth.
"C'mon, let's get you out of these clothes. You're freezing." You busied yourself in helping him remove his jacket. In truth, you were trying to avoid his eyes. You knew where Sam was. You knew this was going to happen one day, you had known for months now. You knew exactly where Sam was right now. On his way to Stanford.
You were the first person Sam had confided in about his hopes of living a normal life, of becoming a lawyer. You were the one he came to when everything was too much to handle just before his SATs. When he had miraculously managed to get a full ride into Stanford, Sam had travelled 18 hours to get to you, so you could celebrate it with him. You were the one person he could unabashedly share his dreams with.
The two of you had jumped with joy, gotten drunk and cried happy tears at his accomplishment. The next morning when he was leaving, he had pulled you into a bear hug and thanked you for everything. You still remembered his smiling face as he waved, reassuring you that he would find a way to convince Dean that it was a good idea, if not his dad.
Looking at Dean, you could see that hadn't gone as per the plan. Even as Sam had reassured you, you’d seen this coming. Sam was everything to Dean, there was no good way of telling someone that you were taking away half their life support. You knew this was exactly how it was gonna end.
The heater in the drafty room was broken. It was too cold to stay outside the covers, especially in wet clothes. Dean barely seemed to care as you helped him strip down to his boxers. You guided him to your bed and climbed in with him, pulling the covers over the two of you.
He was silent as he rested his back against the headboard. You curled up against his side.
At long last he sighed. "Sam got into Stanford.” There was no anger in his voice, just hopelessness and resignation. It hurt you so much.
"He just upped and left," Dean whispered. "He and Dad got into this huge fight in the middle of the road. They said awful things to each other and I just stood there listening to it all."
You rubbed your hand against the side of his arm, urging him to keep going, clearly visualizing the scene. It was Dean's worst nightmare, just the mere thought made you shudder.
"I wanted to stop them from fighting," dean continued. "I wanted to stop him from leaving. He's still a kid, a stubborn ass, in fact... there was so much shouting. Dad asked me to keep out of it. He accused Sam of not caring for the family, not caring enough about mom…"
Sam didn't even know his mother. All he knew were stories. All his life he had been dragged in a revenge that wasn't his own. But John was wrong, Sam did care about his brother. This whole deal was hardest on Dean. It wasn't his decision to be brought into this life, he wasn't the one leaving his family to pursue his dreams. But he was the one hurting the most. John would be out and about in a bar, drowning his sorrow and anger in liquor.
Dean, however, had trusted you. Tugging at his arm, you forced him to look at you. The vulnerability in those eyes pulled at something deep in your heart.
"Hey, hey… look at me," you said. “There was nothing you could’ve done about this. It was Sam's choice. Think about it... it's not like he's gone forever. He's just gone to college. He'll be back."
"He won't. Dad said, if he walked out, he should stay gone. He can’t ever come back."
Dean ran his hands over his face, once, twice before breathing out a long huff. You had never seen him so shaken. He was the rock, he supported everyone.
You could still remember the day Dean had held you in his arms as you cried over the loss of your dad. To see him this lost and scared was a reality check. As unbreakable as he seemed, Dean was just as human as you and everyone else.
"Dean, he'll be back," you repeated, running your fingers along his jaw. "John is not his only family. You are, too."
"You're right," he said at last, looking into your eyes. "I'm just-" He seemed to be at a loss of words, his eyes were watery and his lips quivered. You reached out for him, and pulled him to you. His cold, bare skin contrasted with your warm, soft one, making both of you shiver lightly. Despite that, you didn't let go.
You pulled him closer and closer still. Dean responded, fisting his fingers into your thin tank top, and holding onto you like dear life.
Wishing there was some way to comfort him… something more, you held him back. Dean curled up into you, nestling his head beneath your neck, his face pressed against your chest. You couldn't hold it in any longer as you gently pressed your lips into his wet hair, trailing gentle kisses downwards till you grazed the skin of his neck. Dean stilled in your arms, and for a second you were scared whether you had crossed a line. But when he looked up at you, his eyes were melting emeralds, begging you to take him in.
So you did. You pulled him to you, capturing his lips within yours, unhesitant, pouring all the love that you felt for him in that kiss. At first Dean was caught off guard by the flood of feelings, but you didn't pull back. You knew Dean well enough to know that any sort of emotion or love towards him was always going to catch him by surprise because he wasn't used to it. So you didn't give up just yet. You held on.
And then he kissed you back. Slow and deliberate, as if he was intent on making every second count. Every slide of his tongue against your lips was fraught with so much of "more" that it brought tears in your eyes behind the closed lids. Dean would never have to say it, but you knew. He loved you. Soon his hands were everywhere, exploring your body, skimming softly over your naked arms, slipping underneath your tank top, grazing the skin of your stomach, clutching at your lower back. It was all agonizingly slow, setting your skin on fire.
It didn't take long for his eyes to meet yours, the silent question too evident in them. Instead of saying it out loud, or doing something bold like you had always imagined, you could only look away and nod shyly against his chest. Dean's fingers were quick to raise your chin up, making you look in his eyes, so he could find his answer there. A breathtaking smile spread across his face as he found what he was looking for.
In the past couple of months, since you had kissed Dean for that first time, you had lain awake in your bed for hours thinking about what it would feel like to get lost in him. You had imagined being pressed into the bed, his hands clutching yours as you screamed his name over and over again. Your little fantasies were all hard and fast, still they had you sweating in the sheets.
But Dean? He was slow, drawing out every moment, making the most of it. He was revering your body. Loving you without hesitation, without a second thought.
And you? You didn't question a single thing that night, loving him with everything you had. Not screaming, but sighing his name, as it fell off your lips like a prayer till you were both exhausted, falling asleep entangled in each other's arms.
Long after Vi had walked into the parking lot, smiling and happy, long after you had pulled out and were driving towards the shop, you couldn't shake it out of your head. Vi always had the brightest smile reserved for her dad. You wanted to share his story, your real story with her, but you were scared that she might ask too much. That one day she'd find out that her father never knew she existed. She’d know that her assumption that he had loved her more than his life was a lie because he never knew he’d had a daughter to love. She would someday ask about the last conversation her mother had had with her father, and she would find out how it ended.
You didn't want that. You'd rather she lived in her own assumed story, because while it was based off of a lie, it wasn't necessarily false. Dean would have loved her more than his life. Who wouldn't? Your daughter was gem and Dean had been a man yearning for love. You could easily picture them sitting on the couch together and binging southern movies. It hurt your heart to think about everything she was missing. Which was you had done your best to be both- a mother and a father to her, loving her to the full capacity of your heart. But as you drove, you couldn't help but wonder if it was enough.
**************
Dean couldn't help but rush his brother at the station. They had left the hotel soon enough, but the procedures Sam had insisted on following were taking all the time in the world. Sam thought it might be a good idea to check on the witness from the second murder who was being questioned at station, before heading to the school because the station was on the way. Distressingly, it was taking longer than expected.
Dean was pacing the floor so fast, he might have worn a hole in the carpet.
"Oh, he's finally out!" He threw his hands up in the air when Sam came out of the holding room. Sam threw him a bitch face.
"Did you, at least, find anything on the witch?" Dean asked as he opened the door and got into the driver's seat.
"No," Sam replied, climbing in next to his brother. "But I did find out about the red soil."
"What red soil?"
Sam filled in Dean over what had happened at the morgue last evening. The hex bags, the red soil, everything.
"Turns out all of those victims had all been to this same place- an excavation on the outskirts of the town. They are digging it up for a nature in trail in the forest fringes. The first victim, Jonathan Egbert was a supervisor for the project. The second, Natasha Williamson was a photographer. She used to visit the forest for pictures."
"What about the kid?" Dean was paying attention to Sam, but the Impala was running faster than usual as he willed her towards the school.
"It used to be a make out spot before the operation started, I'm willing to bet Aaron here frequented it, too."
"That still doesn't explain why they're rounding up the witnesses now."
"Beats me," Sam sighed.
They drove in silence for a while. Dean glanced at his brother to find him staring outside the window lost in thought, frowning slightly. He knew Sam well enough to know that something was bothering him.
"Spit it out," Dean said.
"Spit what out?"
"Whatever you're thinking about."
Sam hesitated, and Dean knew it had something to do with him. Something Sam wanted to talk about but he was afraid how Dean would take it.
"C'mon, tell me," Dean urged.
Sam narrowed his eyes for a moment, deciding whether or not to say it, before speaking carefully. "What happened between Y/N and you?"
"What?" Dean's head snapped to look at his brother. Of the all the things he had expected Sam to be thinking about, this wasn't one. The car slowed down a notch as Dean collected his thoughts.
Sam put his hands up in a defensive gesture. "Hey, don't get me wrong. I know you don't like it when I bring her up, but I can't help wondering, man. What the hell went wrong? The two of you were so good for each other. Then suddenly she just upped and left?"
Dean looked straight ahead, his eyes boring into the road ahead of him as he revved up the engine again. He had avoided this very question for years like the plague. What was he even going to tell Sam?
Dean could feel her before he even opened his eyes. The soft light filtering through the curtains of the motel room window only made him want to pull her closer and go back to sleep. But as amazing as feeling her naked skin against his was, Dean knew seeing her serene face would be even more amazing. He opened his eyes to find her fast asleep against his chest. She was curled up at his side, her arm lightly draped over his waist while her soft Y/H/C hair was spread in a halo across the pillow and over his face.
Dean brushed them off his eyes, so he could take a better look at her. She was stunning. His bones felt like they were melting when he thought back to last night. Her lips had been all over his heated skin. Dean remembered wanting to hold her closer, and doing just that all night long. It hadn’t been enough. Truthfully, he simply couldn't believe last night had happened. It made him feel like he was floating in bliss and scared the hell out of him at the same time.
Sometime last night, when he was kissing her, she had stopped to giggle against his lips, her warm breath fanning his face, and Dean had realized just how much he loved her. She had trusted him so implicitly and now he couldn't possibly think of a life without her being in it.
Somehow she had turned a terrible night into the best night of his life. Looking at her now, Dean wanted to believe in her, believe that Sam was coming back just as she had said he would. After all Sam leaving had been a shock to her, too, and if she could cope with it so well, have so much hope, so could he.
She stirred then, slowly opening her eyes.
"Hey beautiful," Dean smiled. Y/N promptly shut her eyes back, screwing them tightly and threw her hands over them.
"Hey? What happened?" Dean asked, bewildered by her reaction.
"I think I'm dreaming," she said, trying to keep the smile off her voice. "There's a really hot guy in my bed and he’s naked. I don't ever wanna wake up!"
Dean chuckled. God, she was perfect. The best thing in his damned life.
"Oh, it's real alright," he said, shifting so that she was pinned beneath him. He slowly pried her hands away from her eyes, and pressed his lips against hers. "It's very real!"
She sighed happily, before throwing her arms around his neck and kissing him back. Dean couldn't believe his luck.
A sharp beeping noise from her mobile made her jump, and Dean laughed, rolling over so she could reach out. "Dang it!" He cursed, making her giggle.
Dean watched as she unlocked the screen and frowned a little while reading the text. Drawing a deep breath, she quickly typed a reply and put the cell aside. Dean watched as she rose up, stretching her gloriously naked body, and threw her legs down. Just when she rose up, Dean reached across to catch her hand, making her stop in her tracks.
"Come back to bed." He looked up at her, smug about the shy expression which crept up her face at his words.
She swatted his hand away, before he could grab it fully and made a run for the bathroom. He could still hear the sound of her soft laughter till it was drowned by the shower.
Dean lay on his stomach across the bed for a while, staring after her with a goofy grin on his face.
Another beep from Y/N's phone sounded right next to his ear from where she had left it. Dean grabbed the phone with the intention of putting it on the bedside table when the name flashing on the screen caught his attention.
*1 message from Sam*
Dean didn't even think about it, as he unlocked the phone. He knew what the message was going to be about. It would be Sam telling Y/N what had happened. Explaining his side. But right now Dean would do with just about anything to know about his brother.
A message from him meant Sam was, at least, safe. Wherever he was, he was going to be fine. Any news of his brother would be good news.
Of course Y/N wouldn't mind, Dean thought as he opened the message.
*Sam: Thanks, Y/N. Thanks for being there. I don't know what I'd have done without you.*
At first Dean didn't understand what was going on. He read the words over and over again, his mind refusing to understand and accept the obvious. He quickly checked the sentbox to find Y/N's message, the one she had sent while laying in bed next to him.
*Y/N: He's fine, Sam. Go, be you! All the love- Y/N.*
Dean went back to the inbox and scrolled up, reading months and months of messages. Messages about Sam preparing of the SATs, about him obsessing and then worrying over his applications, him rejoicing over acceptances and scholarships. Sam had driven out to see Y/N when he had cracked his way into Stanford. They had celebrated. Y/N knew.
Y/N knew Sam was going to leave him, leave dad and leave their family. She had known all along, and not once had she said a word about this to Dean.
When Y/N stepped out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around her, that beautiful, bashful expression still graced her face. She was still smiling mischievously. The smile slid from her face the moment she saw Dean standing by the bed completely dressed, his face devoid of any expression.
"Dean?" She asked softly, reaching out for him, but he stepped back from her, his eyes flashing.
He could see it in her face that she was confused, hurt even, that she had no idea what to make of him, but Dean just couldn't let himself be touched by her. He had been betrayed by the two people he loved the most.
"Sam says he is thankful for all that you've done for him," Dean hissed, lifting up his hand to show her the phone.
"Dean, no!" She gasped, her eyes filling up with tears, as understanding came to her.
"The two of you can have a laugh about this, me, at some point." Dean flung the phone across the bed, where it hit the headboard and promptly split into pieces.
"Dean, listen to me," she begged. "It wasn't like that!"
"Then what was it like? Huh?" He yelled. "I saw all the messages, Y/N. You knew from the start and you kept it from me."
"I didn't want to," she whimpered. "Sam just… I promised him…"
"Sam’s a selfish son of a bitch! He didn't care about dad, he didn't care about me. All he cared about was himself… And apparently you."
Y/N only cried harder. She was clutching at the towel which was bundled up beneath neck, her wet hair dripping water on to the floor.
"So, that's it then," Dean gritted his teeth. Y/N wasn't denying any of it. She didn't care for him either. Just like Sam hadn't. Dean could see in that moment- why his dad had asked Sam to leave and never come back. Because it hurt. It hurt too fucking much to be betrayed like this. And now Dean knew.
He turned to leave, but Y/N grabbed his hand. "Don't, Dean… Just listen to me… Don't leave me…" She managed between the sobs.
Dean shirked his hand away, not even looking at her.
"Go find Sam. He’ll listen to you. I thought you cared for me, but looks like all you cared for was to be a better sibling to Sam, because clearly I wasn't enough for him."
Y/N's hand flew to her mouth and she broke down, falling to ground, crying too hard to be able to speak.
Dean walked over and yanked his coat from the top of the chair where she had put it the night before, walking over her clothes that had been strewn last night.
"Don't go please,” she whispered. The pain in her voice made Dean around. Y/N was crying incessantly on the floor. Seeing her, his resolve waivered just for a second, his love for the girl raging a battle against what she had done. He had promised her he would protect her, but try as he might, he couldn't get Sam's words out of his head. 'I don't know what I'd have done without you.' It was making him see red.
That decided it for him.
"I can't stay. I just don't want to see you!" Dean's voice was icy as he walked out of the room, slamming the door so hard behind him that the frames rattled in his wake. The image of her, sitting helplessly on the floor, covered in a wet towel, begging for him to stay with outstretched hand burning behind his eyes as he walked away.
"I know you loved her, Dean, and from what I know, she loved you, too," Sam's voice brought Dean back to the now.
"I don't know about that, Sammy," Dean grunted. He wasn't going to tell Sam what exactly was the reason for the fight. Dean had been angry, but he had also been an ass.
It hadn't been Y/N's fault that Sam had wanted to go off on his own, in fact, if it hadn't been for her, Sam would have tangentially headed in a completely different direction, and the ultimate fight between him and dad wouldn't have been pretty. She had been a good friend to him, supportive and loyal. For that Dean had left crying alone in a dank motel room. In the grand scheme of events, the reason for the fight felt so damn petty to Dean, that every time he thought of it, he wanted to kick himself in the gut. He had cooled down to be able to think rationally within a couple of weeks, but by then it had been too late. She was gone. She had burned every sim, every possible link to find her and vanished. She had kept his word for him. He’d never see her since. Not really, anyway.
He wasn't about to tell Sam that her love for him was the reason for their fight. Sam didn't need that on his conscience over everything else.
"I was twenty-two and I was an idiot. That was the reason. I said some things I shouldn't have and now it's too late to take it back." Dean wished he could go back and change it all. Fall down on his knees and beg her to take him back, like she had begged him to not leave.
"Maybe it's not," Sam said more to himself than to Dean; there was a hope in his eyes. Dean didn't want to see it. He knew all about the trackers Sam had going, he just never gave up.
"It’s too late, and it was my fault. Y/N deserved better than me. I hope she is happily married with a kid somewhere." Even as he said it, the mere idea hurt more than Dean could possibly put into words. It hurt that she wasn't here right next to him. It hurt unbearably.
"It's not late," Sam mumbled. "And it's my fault."
Dean knew what was coming before Sam said it.
"I tracked her down, Dean. You know I did. I left her a message asking her to find us when… when you were going to hell."
Dean still remembered it like yesterday, seeing her for a split second through the red haze as the hell hounds ripped through him. He could still hear her bloodcurdling scream, as she yelled for him. The absolute horror in her eyes as she had watched him die. He dreamt of it sometimes. Her obvious pain in the moment made him believe that she might have still loved him then. It had made dying that much harder, to know that she had been at arm's reach from him and yet he couldn't touch her, couldn't stay with her, couldn't tell her how much he loved her.
When he’d come back, he had asked Sam where she was, he’d been yearning to meet her. A part of him suspected that her memories, memories of that one night, that had kept his soul human through all the torments of hell. She was the one whom he had clung to- his connections to all that was good in him.
Y/N hadn't been there. She had left believing him to be dead. Dean thought it was the best thing that could have happened to her. He didn't deserve her, never had. But one question had always tugged at his mind.
"Why didn't you stop her? After… after I died."
"I tried," Sam said, his eyes sad and distant. "I tried to stop her, but she seemed afraid of me somehow. I was mad, Dean. I was mad and so full of vengeance that I didn't even realise when she left. I think she saw it before anyone- that anger. The one that Ruby fuelled. Y/N knew I was dangerous the moment she looked into my eyes. She knew it wasn't really me in there anymore."
"Smart chick, that one," Dean laughed a mirthless laugh. She always had been.
They drove in silence, each lost in his own thoughts, wondering what Y/N would be like now, whether or not she would still be like his Y/N.
Before Dean knew it, he had driven into the school premise. He dropped Sam at the entrance so he could talk to the authorities regarding Aaron's records, while Dean drove around to the parking lot
A crowd had gathered right in the middle of it, making it impossible to put the car in park. Dean honked loudly twice, but the crowd didn't budge.
"What the hell?" He muttered to himself, stepping out of the car and making his way through the crowd. The scene that unfolded before his eyes as he walked to the front of the line was disheartening. A girl was standing in the middle of the circle, crying into her hands. All her books were strewn across the asphalt, her bag ripped along the sides. Two boys stood on the other side laughing at her, while she sobbed. When she moved her hand to wipe her tears, Dean caught a glimpse of her face. It was Sam, and she had the most heartbreaking and lost expression on her face.
Please let me know how you liked this chapter?? PRETTY PLEASE? *Sam Winchester level puppy-dog eyes*
If you want to add yourself to the taglist for the series, there’s a link to my taglists in the bio of the blog. Can be accessed only via a computer! ;)
Patrons now have two chapters available to play, and I'll be working on the third soon - after that one is complete, there will be a public release of chapters 7-9 (or the entirety of Day 3) once Patrons have had their fun with it.
I know I said I was going to upload full days at once, which will be multiple chapters, but I thought I'd let you know that the first chapter is fully written and other than being tested by a few people and fixing mistakes, it's done and I can move on to the second chapter.
So here’s the thing about summer of love chapter 8…
It might be a while until I can post the new chapter. I’ve had a lot of work/life stuff come up and I’m planning my sisters bachelorette party so I’m going to be busy with that this next little while. I know some of you have sent me asks explaining your disappointment with the time it’s taking me to get the chapters out so I’m really sorry to do this again. I’m doing the best I can to tell this story as best I can, so sometimes that means waiting to post 💜
