Chasing Clouds - chapter one
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: 2011
Pairing: Dean x Reader (eventually)
Word count: ± 3970 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 chapter one: Y/N travels to the Texas-Louisiana border in her beloved camper van, enjoying the journey she's on. She has no idea that the place she chooses to spend the night is a very dangerous one, and that the events that are about to unfold will change her life forever.
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: Heartlines by Florence + the Machine.
Author’s note: Thank you @winchest09 for helping me take this story to a higher level.
'Chasing Clouds' Masterlist
Drumming her delicate fingers on the wooden steering wheel, Y/N takes her Raybans from the top of her head and puts the pair of shades on, shielding her narrowed eyes from the sun. Florence + the Machine’s ‘Heartlines’ is blasting from the radio, the speakers not doing the music justice, but she doesn’t mind. A playful smile pulls at the corner of her mouth as she sings along a few words of the song every now and then. Her ‘79 VW camper has a few quirks, but that’s why she loves it so much.
The old van loses speed as it climbs the steep cable-stayed bridge, a few cars overtaking her in the left lane. The young woman is in no rush. The window is cracked and the early spring breeze feels refreshing on her skin, strands of her hair dancing in the air. As the babyblue Volkswagen reaches the highest point of the overpass, the driver takes in the view.
Below, the Neches River snakes through the landscape, water gathering in Sabine Lake before reaching the Gulf. The surface sparkles, the sun catching the ripples and highlighting the gorgeous landscape. Everglades beneath are home to a variation of birds, a flock taking off and flying towards the ocean, the romantic sky clear and holding a beautiful shade of blue, fading to a warm yellow at the horizon.
Y/N has left Houston earlier this morning, spending a couple of days in Bayou City. She visited the NASA Space Center, enjoyed Cajun crawfish and Texas BBQ and took the time to find a laundromat in Midtown. Her VW is equipped with quite a lot of utilities, such as a small kitchen, a toilet and an outdoor shower, but a washing machine is something she has to do without. After her clothes were clean and dry, the young nomad continued her trip down Highway 73, passing through Winnie and Port Arthur. She is about to leave the Lone Star State behind, crossing the border between Texas and Louisiana tomorrow.
The journey of a lifetime started about five months ago, when bought the Volkswagen with her savings and left her hometown. Her life in Santa Cruz, California, might have seemed ideal to the outside, but her house felt more like a pressure-cooker than a safe haven. She had to get out, away from the strangled upbringing and the high expectations. Life is too short to live it for anyone else but yourself. And Y/N wants nothing more than to travel, see the world and not be tied down by an education, a job, toxic relationships and a tainted past.
The driver of the cute blue van checks if the GoPro on her dashboard is still recording the stunning view when the VW rolls down the bridge. After California, Arizona, New Mexico and Texas, Louisiana will be the fifth state of America that she is going to explore and she couldn’t be more excited. New Orleans has been on her bucket list for a long time. The Jazz and Brazz music, the French Quarters, the steamboats on the Mississippi River; Y/N has heard it is a city like no other.
Tonight however, she will set up camp in Orange, a town at the state line. She has picked out a campground just off the highway, offering a swift departure tomorrow morning.
It doesn’t take long before Y/N turns her van onto the driveway of Cypress Lake RV Park. It’s a small resort, the green grass neatly mowed on the parking spots near the water, giving visitors a picturesque view. They even rent out airboats, and Y/N makes a mental note that she should consider taking one out and explore the river in the morning before she hits the road again.
The little camper stops by the front desk, and after killing the engine, the traveler gets out. Her body feels somewhat stiff from the ride, the original seats of the Volkswagen not the most comfortable, but after she stretches her back while taking in her surroundings, she feels better.
Y/N is immediately hit with the diverse choruses from birds, mixed with mating calls from frogs and other amphibians. A gentle wind rustles through the Spanish moss hanging from the Cypress trees along the riverbank, seemingly welcoming her. It’s a totally different world than what she’s so familiar with in California. Y/N’s eyes are sparkling as she approaches the little white building on the side of the driveway, an American flag hanging from a slanted pole. She swats a few mosquitoes away before she enters, a bell chiming when she pulls the door towards her and steps through the fly curtain.
Inside, it’s quiet, except for the blues song that is softly playing on an old radio, the music coming from the speakers with a crackle. There’s a mini-market on the right side, the refrigerators holding refreshments buzzing. On the left, camping gear is displayed, but also fishing equipment, with a sign saying ‘for rent’ above. There’s no one behind the front desk, until a woman with dyed blonde hair strapped back in a braid steps out of the back room. She’s wearing a white tanktop with an eagle on it, with a pair of jeans. At first glance, she seems somewhat stern and intimidating, her brow furrowed as she sets two heavy cardboard boxes down behind the desk. It’s only when she straightens her back that she spots the visitor. Her demeanor instantly changes, a welcoming smile forming on her lips.
“Well hi, sweet pea! Welcome! What can I do for ya?” she asks, a Southern drawl thick on her tongue.
“Hi,” Y/N responds, approaching the desk. “I was wondering if you have a slot available. I’d like to spend the night.”
The middle-aged woman pulls the calendar towards her. “Just one night, darlin’?”
“Yes, please.”
“Just you?”
“Just me.”
She checks the bookings. “Do you need electricity? I have two spaces available on the back field, one with and one without hookup.”
“With, if that’s possible,” the young traveler answers. “Is that next to the water by any chance? I love the view.”
“Oh no, sorry, honey. We’re under a flood watch, so we’re keeping those slots empty just in case,” the woman explains.
Y/N frowns. “A flood watch?”
“Nothin’ to worry about. They announce one whenever they expect a spec of rain down here. Happens all the time,” the kind lady says, shrugging it off. “That will be eighteen dollars. What’s your name, hon?”
“Y/N L/N,” she states, handing her the money.
“Well, I’m Mae. If you need anythin’, gimme a holler,” Mae takes a pamphlet out of the drawer, scribbling something on the top right corner. “Your spot is B-14. Showers and restrooms are around back. Don’t use the left one - it runs ice cold if anyone flushes the damn toilet.”
Y/N chuckles, quickly scanning the flyer with information about the park, rental options and more. “Thanks for the heads up. I have one more question. Is it okay if I make a few videos for my vlog?”
“Only if you film me on my good side,” Mae winks, stepping away from the counter and gesturing to her guest to follow. “Follow me, I’ll show ya the way.”
Happy to have found a place for the night, Y/N does exactly that. The owner of the RV park waddles towards the door, her Crocs padding against the tiles. Once outside, the symphony of nature greets them, as Mae eyes the Volkswagen van with appreciation.
“What a cute lil’ camper!” she comments, delighted, placing her hands on her broad hips. “A lil’ different from those big RV’s that usually roll in here. Don’t ya ever feel crammed?”
Y/N opens the passenger door, grabbing her Parasonic camcorder from the seat.
“No, not really. I actually enjoy how cozy it is. And it’s easy to maneuver within the city limits as well.”
“I bet. Where’re ya from, darlin’?”
“California,” the young nomad replies.
“Long way from home,” Mae says, gesturing Y/N to follow her as she walks further onto the property.
She chuckles. “This is my home. My little house on wheels.”
“Well, ain’t that nice,” the nice lady responds, genuinely interested in her story. “And you have it all on film?”
“Yeah, and I post the videos on my channel so people can follow my journey. It’s called Chasing Clouds.”
“My son’s into that stuff, always watchin’ YouTube. I’ll tell him to go check out your videos,” Mae quips before she points up ahead. “Here we are.”
Under a tall Cypress tree, one spot is left vacant. It’s situated on a small small slope, but the area next to the hookup is levelled. It’s an ideal place and still oversees the bayous. This will do just fine for tonight.
The kind-hearted woman steps back, giving her guest a smile. “I’ll letcha get settled. Enjoy your stay, sweety.”
“Thank you,” Y/N returns, giving her a little wave.
With a deep breath, she takes in the warm air, allowing her senses to once again take in all the new sounds, smells and views. The further she has driven away from her home state, the more the world has changed around her. For someone who has never left the west coast of California, there is so much to experience. It’s the best part about this journey.
Y/N glances at the camcorder in her hand and then holds it up, switching it on and flipping the LCD screen. Time to get some footage and park her minivan, before she runs out of light.
Rain drums against the windows of the Volkswagen, tickling down the glass in random patterns. It’s almost dark outside, but not just because the sun is setting. Dark clouds have rolled in from the west. The precipitation that started only minutes ago, hasn’t done much for the temperature, though. It’s still humid and warm in the small camper. Y/N opens the window, tilting it upward and secures the leg-up, after which she pulls the fly screen down. The wind caresses her bare arms and she leans back against the bench. Much better.
Earlier, she had shot some material for her vlog, showing her future viewers around on the property. Mae was kind enough to say a few words and she met a lovely elderly couple who are staying at the campsite as well. Y/N usually tries to involve locals whenever she’s making a video. The people she meets on the way are such an important part of the whole adventure. The traveler isn’t a loner by any means, as long as the company is good. Crossing paths with owners of shops and restaurants, artists, musicians and other adventure seekers; it has added such a value. Not only to the experience, but to her videos as well.
Now she was going over the footage, comfortable in her PJ shorts and a loose shirt, with her bare feet propped up on the couch, her bare legs crossed at her ankles. As the fairy-lights spread a yellow gleam through the small cabin, she moves her eyes away from her laptop screen, which is situated before her on the table. The van might indeed be ‘mini’, but with a couple of neat storage tricks, she has all the space she needs.
The tabletop can drop down for instance, the cushions she is using as a backrest right now fitting perfectly on top, making it into a small twin bed. Under one of the benches, she has food and drinks stored, under the other her clothes. Then there’s the kitchen next to the sliding door, which she can turn 270 degrees, allowing her to cook either indoors or outdoors, depending on the weather. The only thing she needs to go outside for, is the shower.
Photos are taped to the walls, filling up every space that has no window. Pictures she took along the way, but also a few from her past. Y/N smiles when her gaze locks on an image of her and her sister. They must have been no older than fifteen and seventeen, two young girls with their arms wrapped around each other on the beach. Memories she will hold dear forever.
Her sister. Her beautiful, sweet baby sister. Y/N has wished many times that she could have gone on this road trip with Jade. She inspired her to go, to document it on film and share it with the world. Who would have thought that her blog in video form would reach so many people.
In the beginning, only a few hundred people followed her travels on YouTube, the number of likes and subscriptions slowly growing. Then, out of nowhere, one video went viral. She remembers it well; it was a special about her Volkswagen, followed by shots of Y/N surfing in Malibu. An old-timer enthusiast offered to shoot footage with a drone. The bird's eye view shots against the Californian sunset turned out absolutely amazing.
Overnight, it was watched so many times that she gained over five thousand subscriptions by morning. She had no idea what had hit her; her phone had completely blown up. She went from uploading a video every now and then to a full blown vlogger, spending whenever she wasn’t traveling or sightseeing editing videos. Now, she gets paid for views, advertising and promoting products. She even receives a decent amount in donations from followers. The support is amazing, most of the time coming from people she has never even met. Who would have thought a YouTube channel would be able to pay for her travel expenses?
It has been an interesting road so far, that’s a given. She has finally allowed herself to live her life, to prioritize herself. She has discovered talents she never knew she had. Everything came together at exactly the right time. The great video, the setting, the algorithm.
The perfect storm.
Thunder rumbling in the distance interrupts her trip down memory lane. Y/N peeks outside in the direction of where the bad weather is coming from, but trees and bushes obstruct her vision. It doesn’t take long before the sound grows a little louder, flashes brightening the ominous sky whenever lightning strikes.
Y/N had heard on the local news radio that there was a chance of severe thunderstorms. Apparently they are as common here as wildfires are in California. She’s glad she got a spot on higher grounds, since the region is prone to flooding. Enjoying the mixture of croaking frogs and the tapping of the rain on the steel roof of her van, backed with an almost continuous roll of thunder. It doesn’t scare her, in fact, she enjoys the drums of nature.
Done with editing for the night, she closes her laptop. After sending out a quick tweet and dropping a post with the highlights of the day on Instagram and Facebook, she sets up her camcorder on a small tripod and switches on her ringlight. Time for a last message before she goes to bed. She will add the closing part of the video in the morning and will look for a restaurant with WiFi on her way to Louisiana to upload it, since the service isn’t great here. After flipping the screen and checking if she looks decent, Y/N hits record and looks in the lens.
“Hey, guys. It’s March 8th, 2011 and already day ninety-nine on the road, so tomorrow will mark the hundredth day of my journey. I can’t believe it’s been this long, but it also feels like time is flying, know what I mean?”
She chuckles at the thought, comfortably continuing her story as if she’s talking to a good friend. In a way, she is. She always pictures telling about her adventures to her sister.
“Houston was amazing, I genuinely had so much fun in Texas. I’m at the state line now, in a town called Orange. The weather is a bit crazy, as you can see,” she pauses, blinking when the bright light of lightning strikes a bit closer by. Great timing. “I’m safe and dry in my little Volkswagen. Time for me to hunker down and get some sleep, because tomorrow, I’m going to Louisiana.”
Y/N smiles, looking up at the ceiling of her little mobile home.
“Honestly, this would have never been possible without you. I wanna thank everyone who has supported me from the bottom of my heart. You have made this journey so much more than just a road trip, and I’m so glad that my quest to explore America and discover myself has inspired so many. Know, though, that you all inspire me. Thank you.”
The young vlogger continues with a small request to like the video and subscribe to her channel like she always does. So genuinely invested in delivering her message, she hasn’t quite noticed that the wind outside has calmed, changing directions. She is about to close the recording, when suddenly, an eerie siren begins to blare outside.
It startles her, her heart shooting up to her throat. She listens to the high-pitched sound, the steady wavering tone having the hair on the back of her neck stand up. For a moment she forgets the camera is rolling as she peers through the glass. It sounds much like the tsunami sirens she has heard once or twice in Santa Cruz. Would this be a flood-warning?
“I don’t know if you guys can hear that,” she wonders, remembering the Panasonic is still recording, continuing nervously. “There are sirens going off and it’s kinda freaking me out. I hope I’m okay here.”
Lightning flashes more violently, the thundering boom shortly after indicating that the storm is coming closer. From the corner of her eye, she has noticed her phone lighting up, indicating that messages are incoming. Normally she never checks her notifications when she’s editing or filming, but then the screen brightens again.
Y/N is stunned to notice the wave of replies and messages on Twitter and her other socials, all coming from followers. She quickly scrolls through them, scanning over words like ‘watch out’ and ‘be careful’. Careful for what? Then a new message comes in, a response to her tweet.
There is a severe thunderstorm coming your way, high winds and possibly a tornado! Please be safe!
Possibly a tornado? Y/N stares at her phone with big eyes, stammering before she can collect herself.
“I’m, uh - I’m getting a lot of messages from you guys warning me about the weather. What should I do, though? I don’t think there’s a stormshelter on the premises.”
Anxiously, Y/N runs her fingers through her hair, lightning breaking the heavens in half and outlining her profile. With haste, she closes the window, sealing it shut, all while keeping an eye on the dark incoming clouds.
Then her gaze stops.
Her heart skips a beat, a frozen deer caught in the headlights of the storm. She barely caught it, but in the darkness one flash reveals the contours of a large, dark shaft, coming down from the low clouds. She imagined that, right? It has to be just heavy rainfall. Right?
Something changes in the atmosphere. The wind begins to move through the trees again, only this time coming from the east, the intensity growing within no more than ten seconds. Panic begins to creep through her veins, spreading through her body like a virus. What is she supposed to do?! Stay put? But she has heard that a mobile home is the worst place to be in when it comes to tornadoes.
I’m in a Goddamn mini-van.
“Oh, God… What - what do I do?” she stutters, backing away from the window as another flash shows the monster’s true form, seemingly growing larger. “Oh, God - Oh, God! There’s a tornado!”
The old Volkswagen moans as the velocities rise, beginning to rock on its small wheels.
The hauling wind and loud thunder are deafening, drowning out the wail of the sirens. Power lines next to the road sway, the Stars and Stripes violently fluttering, completely horizontal. Loose lawn items topple over - folding chairs, flowerpots, a children's toy-slide. Branches and leaves fill the sky, getting picked up by the strong surge.
Y/N should have known her response to a life-threatening situation isn’t fight or flight. After all, she has been in a traumatic situation that altered her future before, and the reaction was the exact same. Unable to move, tears pool on her lashes, shimmering eyes staring at nature’s fury.
She is going to die.
Scared beyond reasoning, she slowly turns on the spot, witnessing how the idyllic world around her snaps and breaks as it is sucked into the vortex. The windscreen cracks as debris hits the glass, but that’s not what Y/N captures. It’s the pendant that hangs from the rearview mirror, swaying as the winds claw at the van. Noticing the golden object triggers something, snapping her out of the deep trance.
Jade would want you to survive.
Knowing it’s too late to run and try to find a ditch, Y/N drops to the floor and quickly crawls under the table. More glass breaks and shatters, the sharp particles raining down on her. In a desperate attempt to protect herself from the relentless storm, she grabs the bench cushions and pulls them on top of her. It’s the only barrier between the young woman and all that Mother Nature is throwing at her, because within moments, the side windows blow out, pulling a scream from Y/N’s chest.
As a roar grows louder, like a freight train approaching fast. Water and hail plunges through the gaping holes in the VW, together with twigs and leaves. The kitchen cabinets fly open as the campervan shakes strenuously, the curtains being ripped off the rails. Slowly, the blue car shifts, the frame moaning when the hurricane force winds get a grip on the vehicle.
With her eyes squeezed shut, Y/N makes herself as small as possible, lying on her side in a fetal position in the complete chaos. Wood splintering, loud bangs, car alarms, metal churning, and that growl like no other. She didn’t know a tornado could produce such a sound.
Pressure builds on her ears until they pop, a buzz easing the assault to her hearing. Her brain registers a sudden, white flash even through closed eyelids, simultaneously with the head-splitting crash of thunder. The ground shakes and she can feel the vibrations in her chest, followed by the sound of a bark breaking and wood snapping.
A deafening thud that has the earth trembling once again, announces the old Cypress tree that has landed on top of the baby blue van. The weight of the trunk is so heavy that the roof comes down, the frame of the iconic VW contorting under the pressure.
Pinned under the table, Y/N cries hysterically. Soaked in rain and suffocating in the tight space, she can barely pull in a breath. Fear has completely taken over, pitch black darkness interrupted by sudden bright flashes of the intense lightning storm only adding to the disorientation. Stuck and with nowhere to go, all she can do is await her fate as the tornado is about to pass over.
There’s a downside to independence. A catch to being a lonely traveler. Because when all hell breaks loose, there’s no one there to rescue a woman who desperately wants to be held. Y/N has never felt this utterly alone in the world.
She is trapped in the eye of the storm, and nobody is there to save her.
Chasing Clouds - chapter five
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: 2011
Pairing: Dean x Reader (eventually)
Word count: ± 5350 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 chapter five: Y/N is confronted with the aftermath of the tornado, but thankfully Dean is by her side.
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.
Author’s note: Thank you @winchest09 for helping me take this story to a higher level.
‘Chasing Clouds’ Masterlist
The silence would be deafening, if not for the CCR song that’s filling the car with a comforting melody. The gentle guitar tune sounding from the speakers of the Silverado blends with the noises of surrounding traffic and the low purr of the large big block engine.
Dean has his left hand on the wheel, his thumb softly tapping against the leather, in tune with the music. He has his visor down, shielding his eyes from the sun that is still low in the sky at this hour. It’s almost ironic how lovely and bright the weather is compared to yesterday.
The driver steals a glance aside, observing the woman by his side for a second before he returns his eyes on the road. After breakfast, he offered to give her a ride to the RV park. She’s been quiet ever since. Absently, she takes in the scenery along Texas State Highway, her head resting against the back of her seat, the roadside view nothing but a blur.
“You okay?” he asks.
His gentle voice with a hint of concern is able to halt Y/N’s chaotic thoughts that were racing through her mind. Reflecting on herself, she looks over, needing a second to form a sentence.
Am I okay?
She’s feeling all kinds of things that she thought to have left behind a while ago. Regret of her decisions, fear for the uncertainty. Frustration, for not being able to control her way of thinking right now. Where is the girl who believes that every decision is made for a reason and that there are no mistakes in life? Where’s the girl who embraced not knowing what tomorrow will bring? Somehow, the tornado seemed to have blown those ideals away.
“Honestly?” Y/N huffs, shaking her head. “No, not really.”
Dean thought so, but her admitting to it openly still surprises him somewhat. Working in a male dominant field with his brother as his co-pilot, conversations about feelings aren’t exactly custom. When it comes to the things that keep him up at night, talking about it is something that he avoids at all cost. He prefers to deal with it on his own terms; back-to-back stormchasing when the weather is wild, working on his car and hitting the bar when it’s quiet. He has to admit that on the bad nights, he usually finds himself at a random motel with a woman in his bed or an empty bottle of whiskey on the night stand.
Storms, his Silverado, sex and an occasional bottle of Jack Daniels - his go-to coping mechanisms.
He likes to think he’s a good listener, though, especially when he feels a deeper connection with someone, but Dean doesn’t want to push Y/N to open that can of worms. After all, he’s still a stranger who she’s tagging along with because she has no other options. They might have hit it off great, but there’s still so much he doesn’t know about the young woman in the passenger seat. Despite those reservations, he feels the need to take away those worries that plague her mind. Should he ask? At least offer her the opportunity to get it off her chest?
“Wanna talk about it?” he continues carefully.
The traffic lights ahead turn red, causing cars in front to slow. Dean stops the Chevrolet, observing the woman now that he can afford to take his focus off the road.
When Y/N glances at the driver, she expects awkwardness, reluctance. She finds the opposite in the apple green of Dean’s eyes, however. The man - who has gone to great lengths to save her, patched her up and made her feel comfortable and safe when her world came crashing down - willingly waits for an answer.
Is it a good idea to trauma-dump on a guy she met yesterday? It would make her feel better, it always does. And he did ask for it.
“I’m nervous. Scared even,” she admits, letting out a deep breath she’s been holding. “Of what I’m gonna find. Of what I’m not gonna find. Which is stupid, really. I’m not materialistic in any way. But I feel like last night just… threw me off. Completely.”
“Which is understandable. I mean, you survived a direct hit by a fuckin’ tornado. That would change how you look at things,” Dean offers.
“I don’t want how I look at things to change. I kinda liked where I was finally at, to be honest. Living in the present, day by day. Believing that everything happens for a reason, embracing whatever life throws at me. Valuing experiences and connections, not objects or money. But now my mind is going over everything, regretting decisions and it’s driving me insane.” Y/N shakes her head, annoyed with herself.
“Don’t be so hard on yourself. Hey -” Dean leans forward in his seat, establishing eye-contact with a piercing stare in order for his words to be received. The girl who just poured her heart out carefully lifts her gaze from her lap to meet his. “You went through hell, alright? A life or death situation like that, it triggers your nervous system, rewires your brain. That fear, not knowing if you’re gonna make it, it’s bound to do something to you. There’s no shame in that.”
“I’m not ashamed of it. It just really aggravates me. I had a good thing going, you know?” she returns unapologetically.
Dean chuckles at that, pressing the gas when the light turns green.
“You’ll get there again,” he says, just knowing that she will. “There is a silver lining in your near-death experience, though.”
“Oh, yeah? And what’s that?” Y/N returns, not able to see it yet.
“If you hadn’t gotten hit by that tornado, you wouldn’t have met me,” Dean claims, a hint of triumph in his voice.
Trying to keep a straight face, Y/N rolls her eyes at the ceiling of the car, but can’t keep it together and laughs. “Oh my God, seriously?”
“Think about it. You chose this Godforsaken border-town to spend the night, picked that RV park from all the camping grounds surrounding these bayous. Parked your van right in the path of a storm we were chasing. Talkin’ about ‘everything happens for a reason’,” he elaborates, throwing her own words back at her with a sly smirk.
“Yeah, it must be fate,” Y/N says, cynically.
Confidently, the driver rests his wrist on top of the steering wheel. “Has to be.”
Chuckling at the funny exchange, his passenger peers outside again, watching the scenery pass by, yet this time with a smile on her lips. She still dreads facing the aftermath of last night’s disaster, but feels a little lighter after blowing off some steam. Appreciating Dean’s ability to listen and make her feel less alone, she looks over at the handsome man.
“Thanks.”
Her rescuer steals a glance, his vain grin dying down and shifting into a soft smile. “For what?”
“For letting me vent,” she says.
The silence returns, but it’s a much more pleasant one. Dean continues their short journey down the highway as the first signs of the destructive weather comes into view. It starts with broken branches and leaves on the roadside, signs blown over, garbage bins on their sides. When they reach the overpass under the interstate, it’s partially flooded, waves rippling the surface when the large Silverado truck plows through the water. When they emerge on the other side, the damage is significantly greater. Much like the nerves that begin to build up inside Y/N’s stomach again.
“Holy shit…” she says in awe, the words coming out in a whisper.
Daylight reveals the extent of the aftermath. The pair watches the residents of the northern part of town, who have begun cleaning up the rubble that the tornado left in its wake. Quietly, Dean turns the car to the right, driving east parallel to the main road. Debris is scattered everywhere, powerpoles snapped in half, large Cypress trees forced to bow. They pass a ladder truck, where a fireman is clearing large branches from the roof of a house. The sound of a chainsaw bleeds into the Chevrolet, drowning out the music from the classic rock station.
“What a mess,” Y/N says breathlessly.
“Believe me, it could be far worse,” the driver comments. “This is probably EF2 damage.”
“What is EF2?” she wonders, interested.
“Enhanced Fujita scale. It’s a rating for tornadoes, based on the inflicted damage,” Dean explains.
She watches a bent and crooked street sign, then notices a wooden lawn commercial torn to splintered pieces. “What’s the highest?”
“EF5,” the stormchaser answers. “But they are very rare. Beasts like that only happen less than one per year.”
“Wait, so last night was only two out of five?”
“Yup. Like I said - it could’ve been far worse. Especially since it dropped down so fast. We had already spotted ground contact before the sirens were sounded. Had this thing been bigger and stronger, it would have killed a lot of people.”
“But there were still fatalities,” Y/N says softly, remembering Sam’s radio message from the evening before.
“Yeah, mobile homes and recreational vehicles aren’t sturdy enough to withstand wind speeds of an EF2. It’s still up to 135 miles an hour,” Dean responds, steering around an overflowed sewer drain, slowing as he turns off the flooded road onto the driveway of what used to be the Cypress Hill RV Park.
“Do you know if more people got hurt?” she asks, very well realizing she could have been amongst the victims of the storm.
“One other casualty, Sam told me. A tree fell on a car and the driver didn’t make it. There were reports of at least a dozen people who needed medical attention,” he says, noticing the stunned and somewhat amazed look on her face. Before she can ask, he answers what she’s without a doubt wondering. “We have a police scanner. We listen to it during chases, sometimes after to see if we can be of any assistance.”
“Is that how you found me?”
The way she asks that question has the corner of Dean’s mouth move upward, but he shakes his head. “No. Sam was tracking the rotating winds on radar and saw that this was the area that took the brunt of the storm. Whenever we do search and rescue, we try to go to the hardest hit part of town where people are most vulnerable. Trailer parks, camping grounds. That’s how we ended up here.”
The Silverado comes to a stop on the muddy access road. It’s as far as they can go, because the bayou has overflown during the night, the heavy rain too much for the rivers and creeks to handle. Water has risen to the steps to the porch of the front desk, the building left in ruins. Several trucks are parked on the gravel area, among them police, a van from the National Weather Service and a coroner. Y/N swallows apprehensively when she notices the black car.
Dean turns the Chevrolet into a spot, puts his pickup in park and turns off the engine.
“Ready?” he checks with his passenger, when she doesn’t open the door.
The young woman in the seat next to him looks over, concern knitted between her eyebrows. She isn’t, but she doesn’t have a choice. In order to move on, she needs to grind through. And so she nods quietly, the silent answer earning a comforting smile.
They both get out, the sounds of nature just as melodious as when Y/N exited her Volkswagen one day ago, but playing a different tune. The variety of birds sing a sad song, the frogs less vocal at midday. The trees don’t whisper anymore, neither does the Spanish moss gently wave in the morning breeze. The trunks have been robbed from their leaves, only the strongest branches remaining, reaching up to the sky as if they are praying to be healed.
The storm chaser walks around his truck and opens the tailgate, gathering a few tools that might come in handy. He also grabs a foldable crate for Y/N’s personal belongings. He sure as hell hopes they will find what she’s looking for.
After locking his Chevy, he glances over at her, the girl who he saved on these very grounds. The wind plays with her hair as she observes her surroundings while she takes a deep breath of the heavy air. It must be difficult for her to be back here, the place where her life got flipped upside down. However, the way she chose her words earlier, Dean doesn’t believe this is the first time the rug was pulled out from under her.
Their boots are sucked into the soaking grounds as they make their way to the camping spot where the VW is situated. Rescue workers and volunteers are still securing the site, a few dismantling a trashed mobile home while others clear debris. The risen water level has turned the grassy area into a swamp. As the pair approaches Y/N’s beloved van, a policeman approaches.
“Sorry, this area is off limits,” he announces. “We’re still clearing the scene.”
The first responder is only doing his job, but having dealt with these kinds of situations before, Dean cuts in, not taking no for an answer. “I’m Dean Winchester, this is Y/N. She owns the camper over there. We’re just here to collect a few things.”
“Do you have proof that it’s your vehicle?” the man in full gear checks.
“Uh - no, I don’t. Everything is in my van,” she stammers.
Panic begins to rush through her veins, the kind that comes from desperation. What if they don’t allow them to even try and find her belongings? She glances over at Dean, but his demeanor lets her know that he has everything under control.
He takes his phone out of his pocket and checks if it has a signal, then he hands it to the woman in his company. “Show him your Facebook. You have pictures on there of your camper, right?”
She nods, typing her page name into the search bar. Her profile pops up and she shows the officer a selfie where she poses in front of her baby blue VW, the number plate visible. Having confirmation that she is in fact the owner, the man nods, letting them through.
“The fire department cleared the roof. Still be careful, though,” he warns before he heads back to work.
“Thank you,” Y/N says, relieved.
The two continue and she blows out a sigh. She’s glad Dean is here, because without him, she’s not sure if she would have been able to get close to her little house on wheels.
“Why are they keeping people away?” she wonders, not really understanding the fuss.
“They have to make sure it’s safe before they allow anyone close. Structures might be unstable, there could be live wires, a gasleak,” Dean sums up. “Plus, there’s the problem with disaster tourism and looting.”
“Looting? Seriously?” she responds, stunned.
He nods. “Yeah, believe me. There are plenty of scumbags out there who take advantage of people during the worst moments of their lives. You’d be surprised how much it happens.”
Stunned by the lack of humanity some people have, Y/N falls silent, following Dean up the slick and muddy hill. Noticing the remnants of a trailer on the lower grounds, she is glad she didn’t push for a spot near the lake. At least she has a chance of finding her possessions, because an older man is struggling to get out of the mobile home with the water level being at knee height.
Focusing on putting one foot in front of the other, the pit in her stomach grows larger like a black hole swallowing up her courage. The earth pulls at her boots, slowing her down and straining her already aching muscles.
What is she going to witness in a moment’s time? Will there be anything to salvage?
Dean reaches out and offers her his hand to help her conquer the last few yards up the slippery slope and she takes it gladly. Not only to balance herself, but also because it gives her the mental push she needs to lift her gaze from the grass up to the view in front of her.
The desolate scene has her stop in her tracks. Under the skeleton-looking Cypress tree, the broken off trunk that crushed the roof of the camper has been taken down by the fire department, sawed into pieces which lay by the Volkswagen’s side. It now leaves the damage on full display, the classic van dented like a soda can, contorting the steel in ways she didn’t know was possible. Glass, insolation, parts of the wooden interior and all sorts of provisions, clothes, toiletries, and other items are scattered around, exposed to the elements.
She feels like she’s looking at a coffin at a funeral, the sight a confirmation of the loss she has suffered. The end of an era, a crushed dream. Her beloved Volkswagen is beyond saving and has reached its final destination.
Silently, Dean waits right next to her, still holding her hand. After pulling his gaze away from the wreckage, he glances at her carefully. The shock on her face - her jaw slightly lowered and her eyes big and glazed over - causes his heart to sink. This has to be difficult for her, especially since this is all she has.
Softly, he squeezes her fingers, letting her know he’s there. The distraught woman next to him doesn’t respond initially, but then she blinks a few times, swallows thickly and takes a careful breath.
“Where -” Her voice fails her and she clears her throat before she continues. “Where do we even begin?”
“We’ll go through the rubble. Everything you wanna save, we’ll put in here,” he offers, lifting the folded crate in his right hand. “We’ll do it together, alright?”
She nods absently, unable to tear her gaze away from the carcass that used to be her home.
“Is there anything you’re looking for in particular?” Dean asks, hoping it will help her get her bearings back.
“A - a pendant,” Y/N answers, the question snapping her out of her trance. “A golden pendent. It was hanging from my rearview mirror. It…”
The words she wants to say get caught by a sudden wave of emotion, but she bites down on her bottom lip, fights free from the suffocating grip of sorrow and pulls in enough air to finish her sentence.
“It contains my sister’s ashes.”
The expression on Dean’s face shifts. The way he was looking at her earlier was already filled with so much empathy, but now it’s different. She has seen it before. On the faces of loved ones, family and friends, neighbors, classmates, teachers. On the faces of everyone who learned about the tragic death of Jade. Pity, remorse - the look that says ‘I’m sorry for your loss’. She has witnessed it in the eyes of so many when she became the sister of the girl who died.
Dean doesn’t say anything - he knows he doesn’t have to. He had a feeling there was a history to the mysterious wanderer, something that brought her on this lonesome path. He just wished it wasn’t a loss as such. Losing family - it scars your soul and takes a chunk out of your heart that will never stop hurting. He knows that kind of pain way too well.
The man who is still holding her hand sets his jaw and nods, acknowledging the heavy message.
“I’ll keep an eye out,” he promises.
After a soft squeeze, his grip slips from hers, her savior taking initiative to start with the impossible task at hand. He moves towards the wreck, glass scrunching under his boots. It takes a few seconds before Y/N follows, but when he glances over his shoulder, she’s close behind.
The spray painted ‘X’ on the sliding door indicates that rescue workers have checked the vehicle for survivors. With the dented barrier that gave him a hard time freeing Y/N last night now out of the way, Dean checks the living area in the back. As his observant gaze darts around in the completely trashed van, he notices the small pocket of life where he found the owner of the Volkswagen. Between the benches and under the table, which surprisingly managed to hold, she survived, only covered under a few pillows to protect herself. With the intense damage to the area and to the vehicle, it’s a miracle she survived. Had she chosen any other spot inside to take cover, her odds would have looked very different.
“Found your laptop. Although I doubt it still works,” he announces, reaching to pick up the computer, water dripping from it.
“I found my wallet and my passport,” she counters.
Dean steps back out, careful not to cut himself on the shards that litter the floor. He places the device in the crate together with a leather-bound book, before checking on Y/N. The passenger-side door hangs open from its hinges, crooked and with the window blown out. It offers easy access to the front seat and the glove compartment. He finds her sitting on the edge of the step, checking the contents.
She doesn’t seem particularly thrilled to have found the valuable items. When Dean scans the ceiling of the VW, he notices that the windshield has perished in the storm, the rearview mirror is nowhere to be seen. The most important object in her world is missing.
“It’s gone,” she says, her voice monotone.
Shut down, she flips through her cards; her driver license, creditcard, a couple of hundred dollars in cash - all there. She couldn’t care less, though. It’s worth nothing to her at this point. It would have been a hassle if she had lost it as well, but everything in her hands could have been replaced. The last fragment of Jade’s existence can not.
“We’ll keep searchin’. It could still be around here somewhere,” Dean offers, trying to keep her spirits up.
Y/N sniffs and nods, refusing to break even though she can sense the grief growing in her chest, speeding up her heart rate and constricting her airway. She pushes it down, the tough survivor rising to her feet again, leaving her wallet and proof of American citizenship in the crate.
Aimlessly, she begins to wander through the debris, joining Dean in the search. They find a few random items surrounding the camper; a coffee mug she bought in San Diego that somehow is still in one piece, her camcorder that clearly isn’t. Bits and pieces that used to tell a story about Y/N, a tale that now has turned tragic.
A familiar face stares back at her from one of the many photos that once decorated her camper, lying between the rubble as a bittersweet reminder of what once was. Captivated by the bright eyes, Y/N crouches down and picks it up. The polaroid is wrinkled, water having damaged the colors, but she can still see her.
Jade. Sweet, sweet Jade.
Motionless, she stares at the picture. Her sister has her arm around a girl she barely recognizes. A younger version of herself, happy, clueless, without a care in the world. It’s almost as if both women in the image have died, because without her soulmate by her side, she feels more like a ghost than a living being. Sure, she is trying to make the most of it. Taking on this adventurous trip, meeting people and having fun is all part of that journey to find herself again. But will she ever, now that her best friend was ripped away from her so violently?
Why didn’t I save her?
Why did she die?
Why?
Y/N doesn’t realize that the tears are streaming down her cheeks, not until a drop of agony falls on the already stained photo. There’s no way she can stop the tidal wave that crashes onto shore and wipes her off her feet. The guilt and grief is too great, too much for her to handle. All those unresolved feelings come right back up to the surface, despite that she buried it deep.
“Hey…”
She barely registers Dean’s voice, her pulse drumming in her ears. The touch of his hand on her back doesn’t make her jump, even though she didn’t realize he was standing next to her. It offers only little comfort, because what could possibly make this kind of pain go away?
Dean tentatively rubs his thumb over her shoulderblade, seeing her so mournful and hopeless tugging at his heartstrings. She’s trembling, her fingers holding the damaged picture shaking. For a second he looks at it, recognizing Y/N. He assumes the other girl in the photo is her sister, since they hold such resemblance. A moment in time that the poor woman by his side will never be able to relive.
“C’mere,” he says softly, gently turning her quivering form.
Finally she responds to his presence and leans in against his chest as he pulls her close, wrapping his sheltering arms around her. He doesn’t know if it’s because of the traumatic night she had on this exact spot that adds to her heightened emotions, or that she hasn’t been held like this in a long time, but the embrace seems to snap something inside of her as she lets out a sob. Like the glass of the VW’s windows, she shatters. Like the Cypress tree, she breaks.
Dean lets her cry, only hushing her when she struggles to breathe between sobs. Silently the stormchaser tucks her head under his chin, caressing her hair with slow, even strokes. He feels the tears stain his shirt, the tremors her body is radiating, her fingertips pressing into his jacket, leaving prints on his soul.
For a second he puts himself in her shoes, thinking of Sam. His little brother’s well-being is the only thing on his mind whenever they drive into dangerous weather. As the oldest, it is his job to protect the small boy with messy brown hair that outgrew him by the time he turned seventeen. Dean’s instincts kicked in the moment his mother handed him baby Sammy for the first time and they are just as strong today as they were back then. After their mom died, it was John who fueled that fire, teaching Dean that keeping Sam safe was the only priority, drilling it into his mind like a sergeant.
Dad.
Just the mere thought of losing his family ignites such an uneasy sensation that Dean swallows with difficulty. Very well aware that the memory alone has pulled the pin from the grenade of emotions, he throws the mixture of reality and imagination as far away as possible.
He can’t have it detonate.
Not now, not ever.
But fuck, does he understand Y/N’s sorrow.
Taking a deep breath himself, Dean adjusts her hold, but the broken girl is nowhere ready to let go already and shuts her eyes firmly. She can feel the sun however, a comforting warmth heating her skin. The rays invite her to let some of that light through fluttering lashes, her surroundings coming into focus again.
The sheer contrast between the destruction and the blue sky above couldn’t be greater. Chaos versus clear, depression versus brightness. Y/N lowers her gaze while resting her head against Dean’s shoulder. Amongst the mess made by the wind and rain, something catches her attention a couple of yards further up. A shimmer, caused by the sun reflecting on a shiny bit of material, bouncing back a glint of hope.
No, it can’t be. It’s just a shard of glass, right? It couldn’t possibly be.
Almost too afraid to move and disrupt the mirage, she slowly lifts her tear-stained cheek from Dean’s chest. As she creates a little distance, he allows her to slip from his embrace. When he notices her fixed stare, he follows it, confused. Her first step is hesitant, but despite the fear of disappointment, she strides towards the glimmer.
The sun flashes against the flat surface of the object that she lifts up from the glass, the chrome of the rearview mirror still shining brightly. From it hangs a cylinder-shaped pendant, the gold engravings filled with dirt, but the piece of jewelry still whole.
“You found it,” Dean says, his eyes lighting up at the sight of the priceless item.
Y/N stares at the small golden container, dangling on the end of a black string. When her stunned gaze shifts to the man who she owes her life to, a broad smile breaks through the tears.
I found her.
A sigh of relief escapes her mouth as she unties the pendant from the car part. Tears have filled her eyes again, but this time not just from sadness. Mixed emotions shimmer in her irises when she holds the ashes of her sister in the palm of her hand, showing Dean the beautifully crafted piece of jewelry.
“May I?” he asks, before picking it up carefully.
She nods, using her sleeve to wipe her runny nose, smiling at the tiny object she holds so dear.
“Turn around,” Dean says, undoing the clasp as she does so.
He carefully sweeps Y/N’s hair out of the way before he positions the leather string around her neck, fastening the clasp behind her head with careful fingers. She twirls around, looking down at the pendant that is resting just below the dip of her collarbone. A deep breath leaves her lips as she encloses her hand around the only physical object of Jade that she possesses. Her heart will never be whole again, but being able to wear her ashes close to her chest, gives her the feeling that she is still with her, even though it’s not in this universe or dimension.
When she looks up at the man in front of her, there’s an trace of relief and calm adorning her features. For a short moment the two stare at each other, and the stormchaser can see that the world just became a lot less daunting for the young woman. Content, he mirrors her expression.
“Let’s see what else we can find,” he offers.
She nods, smiling through the tears, still holding on to the pendant. If they can find a golden necklace in all the carnage, who knows what other treasures lay buried under the rubble.
They find Y/N’s camcorder, but give up on ever retrieving her phone after a half an hour. The clothes that they find are ruined, so are the books she had gathered during her trip, to read in peaceful moments.
That’s it, that’s everything. There is nothing more to search for, and Y/N doesn’t know whether to be surprised she was able to live with so little, or mourn for how much she has lost.
With a half filled crate containing all that she owns, the pair walk back to the Chevrolet with the sun shining down on them. They might not have been able to salvage much, but she doesn’t care. Jade is with her, and that’s all that matters.
They leave her things on the backseat and Y/N takes a moment to look back on what feels like the end of an era. Saying goodbye to her Volkswagen isn’t easy, but she knows she will find her way again.
Dean watches her over the hood of his car, allowing her a few seconds by herself before he unlocks his Silverado.
“Ready to go?” he ushers gently.
Y/N nods, pulling the handle and opening the door of the large truck. “Where are we going?”
“Walmart,” he states, throwing her a grin as she sits down in the passenger seat. He doesn’t like to generalize, but he knows he is about to make one woman very happy. “Let’s go shopping.”
I hope you enjoyed this chapter! If you're up for it, don't hesitate to let me know what you think. Thank you for reading!
