Supernatural: Storm Traveler @othercharacternut
Chapter 1

This story is in honor of the show that truly changed my life. For the last 15 years, it has given me inspiration, hope, strength, laughter, escape, comfort, love, and every emotion humanly and inhumanly possible. I wouldn't truly be me without it or the family Jared Padalecki, Jensen Ackles, and Misha Collins created with countless others like Alexander Calvert, Mark Sheppard, Jim Beaver, Kim Rhodes, Osric Chou, and Felicia Day to name a few. Eric Kripke created something priceless and timeless that the rest of the show runners and writers let us keep for ten more incredible years after the phenomenal first five. I adore every season, every episode, every hunt, every bitch, jerk, idjit, assbutt, and every ride in the beloved Impala. I could never thank Jared and Jensen enough, I could never thank any of all those amazing people enough, for what they brought to my life. I will love this show with all my heart and soul for the rest of my life, just as I will love Sam and Dean and Cas for all they've given me, and the world.

While I am deeply saddened by its end (the raw and overwhelming sobs of pure emotion are still coming in waves), I will follow the Supernatural family forever because in our world – the world we made together - the end is never really goodbye.

So here is a story close to my heart, a story finally brought into reality from a dream that began (and only grew) more than a decade ago that felt as real as my waking life. A story about a young woman who wanted nothing more than to live in the fictional world of her choosing (and who hasn't wanted that at least once in their life, right?). And every time she chose Supernatural. Impossible for me, but not for her. This is her story, one – if I'm being honest – I wish I could live myself instead of just through her. This is how I will never say goodbye to the Winchesters and their family business.

11/19/20 at 11:19 pm


Dean drove down the empty road only lit by the Impala's headlights. Sam sat beside him, going over all the information they had. It had been a couple hours of this. Only the darkness, the winding pavement, and the rumble of the engine. Dean tried to start up conversations about hunting and the interview, even Jessica, but Sam distractedly brushed them all off. Finally Dean gave up and turned on the radio. Sam shuffled in the seat, getting fed up with the next to no information on what happened to their father. He looked out the window to see the branches reaching out over the highway like clawed arms trying to tear open whatever passed by. He hated seeing this, danger in the darkness. Just one more job.

Riders on the storm
Riders on the storm
Into this house we're born
Into this world we're thrown

Dean turned up the volume at hearing the Doors song and Sam stared out the windshield as a silent flash of lightning broke the black sky.

Like a dog without a bone
An actor out on loan

Static crackled over the music as the wind picked up outside. Dean fiddled with the dashboard to no avail. An electrical scratching the brothers didn't recognize sounded over the lyrics as another bolt of lightning split open the night.

Riders on the storm

Sam immediately looked to his brother as a woman's voice sang clearly from the radio. Dean gripped the steering wheel, staring back at his brother before returning his eyes to the road. The static was gone, and the Doors played as though nothing happened.

There's a killer on the road
His brain is squirming like a toad
Take a long holiday
Let the children play
If you give this man a ride
Sweet memory will die
Killer on the road

Electrical disturbance struck the radio again to free the woman's song as the wind swallowed the roar of the Impala. More lightning flashed ahead yet there was no thunder or rain. Sam turned to his brother and asked, "What's going on Dean?"

"Hell would I know?" he snapped.

Girl, you gotta love your man
You gotta love your man
Take him by the hand
Make him understand
The world on you depends
Our life will never end

The lightning ceased and the wind began to quiet to the light yet haunting voice singing through the speakers. The whole song was different, like a cover you'd hear someone perform. Sam took deep breaths to calm himself and looked out the window to find any kind of answer.

Girl, you gotta love your man
Girl, you gotta love your man
Girl, you gotta love your man
Oh you gotta love your man

Her voice held power and was soft at the same time. Dean relaxed his hands on the steering wheel and watched the road as another wide turn revealed itself. He looked over to Sam and said, "See? We're good. Just a freak lightning storm causing some weird-ass interference."

"Even you don't believe that."

"No, of course I don't."

Riders on the storm
Riders on the storm
Into this house we're born
Into this world we're thrown
Like a dog without a bone
An actor out on loan
Riders on the storm…

Sam peered into the darkness the headlights couldn't illuminate and asked, "What could cause this? No way a ghost has this much juice."

"And no monster I've ever heard of has this kind of mojo."

As they drove into the last tight bend of the turn, with the last lyric playing over and over again, someone suddenly appeared on the road. "Dean!" shouted Sam at the sight of her. It happened so quickly Dean almost didn't react in time. She came out of nowhere and yet was right in front of them. He slammed on the breaks staring straight into her terrified eyes before she vanished from sight again. Sam and Dean stared dumbfounded out the windshield and then at each other.

"What the hell was that?" Dean yelled.

"You didn't hit her," Sam almost questioned as he got out of the car.

Dean followed and stood next to his brother to see a young girl lifting herself up from the asphalt. She had thrown herself out of the way and in doing so scraped her knees and palms. Sam slowly crouched down to gently catch her gaze as Dean loomed over them. She wore a long green trench coat that flowed over her like it would be soft to the touch and her dark brown curls were frizzed and tangled from the wind. Her styled torn jeans now had the blood from her scrapes and her black combat boots were stained with mud. Nothing seemed amiss but the brothers couldn't stop staring at her eyes; dark and deep set, they held both captive because it wasn't the fear or shock or confusion that shone. It was the awe. She stared into Sam and Dean as though she recognized them from a time they don't remember.

Sam slowly stretched out a hand and kindly asked, "You ok?"

Not even a blink. Dean wasn't sure if she blinked in however many minutes they've been standing in the middle of the road. He took a strong step closer and demanded, "You cause the lightning storm?"

"Dean!"

"What?" he defended. "Radio goes haywire thanks to the weather going nuts and this girl suddenly appears in front of the car out of friggin nowhere and that's not a coincidence? Come on!"

They turned back to the girl to see her now staring at the car as she got to her feet. She appeared slim inside that jacket and the top of her tousled head came up to Sam's shoulder. He slowly reached out a hand to lightly touch her arm. Her gaze immediately shot back to Sam at the feel of him and darted to Dean when he stepped between her and the Impala. Now she was blinking, furiously.

"All right, let's start with why you're in the middle of the road." Dean said in a gentler tone.

"I-I wasn't… I was walking home when the weather, uh, went nuts, and I-I," she glanced around her, trying to recognize something – anything – but there were only trees. "Where are we?"

"California," answered Dean. "Just a few hours outside Jericho."

Her eyes widened even more as she couldn't choose who to focus on. Concerned for how overwhelmed she was, Sam softly asked, "You said you were walking home? Where's home?"

"Mystic, Connecticut."

"Connecticut?" Sam echoed.

She nodded her head.

"You were in Connecticut?" Dean asked in a tone lathered in disbelief. "So what, the weather went all doomsday and Auntie Em-ed you here? How the hell does that happen?"

The young woman let her eyes drift back to the Impala and caught her reflection in the passenger window. The brothers watched as she stumbled forward and placed her hands on the sleek, black metal. Somehow, it seemed as though she recognized them more than she did her own reflection.

"This seems witchy," grumbled Dean and got a side sneer from Sam.

"Nothing about her says, "witch," Dean."

"No, no, course not. What's witchy about a girl friggin teleporting from Connecticut to California in a random-ass lightning storm! Oh, and a random-ass lightning storm that hacks my radio with a cover of the Doors."

Sam rolled his eyes and whispered back, "Fine, we'll check her for hex bags but if she's not a witch –"

"She's gonna be a witch, Sammy. Or connected to one."

"If she's not a witch, then we can at least give her a ride. Help her figure out what happened to her."

Dean glanced from the girl still having an identity crisis by the car to his brother and scoffed, "You sure we got time for that? I mean we gotta find Dad and get you home by Monday."

"Seriously, Dean? You think I could live with myself if we just left her here?"

Dean chuckled and gave him a pat on the shoulder. "Nah, I know you couldn't Sammy."

He left his little brother to diffuse in the road and walked over to the girl. She had turned around to lean against the door and was now staring hopelessly at her phone…which didn't have buttons. Dean curiously lifted an eyebrow and asked, "Listen, I get that this is beyond weird, but we need to go through your bag to see if there's anything in there that might explain what happened."

She appeared anxious and gripped the strap she re-looped over her shoulder after she picked it up from where it fell, but after staring at them for another moment she handed it to Dean. He nodded in thanks and set it on the hood of the Impala. Sam walked over as they both stared at it. The messenger bag was a forest green but almost had a teal hint to it and the real leather top that flipped over to buckle it closed was a dark brown with lace of the same color layered over it. The long strap of matching leather barely looked worn, so the boys guessed it was either new or she took excellent care of it.

Dean lifted it open and immediately realized why she was hesitant. She lived out of this bag. Sam was intrigued by how many pockets and sleeves were inside and how much she was able to carry; and it was so organized he actually felt bad about messing it up. But they had to go through it. She really did have everything she could possibly need in there, but no hex bag or witchcraft of any kind. Though something did catch their eye: an arrow. Like a full on, carbon hunting with removable 3-blade broadhead, arrow! It was beautiful. They glanced at her to see that she was staring very intensely at them, so Sam made sure everything was put back in its rightful place and Dean brought it back over to her.

"Gotta say, now knowing how much you stuffed in here, seems like it should be a hell of a lot heavier."

She gave him the slightest of smiles and kept it on her lips as Sam walked over and offered, "There's nothing in there that could explain why this happened to you, but, if you want, we can try to help you figure out what happened. No matter what we'd like to give you a ride."

More of a smile brightened her face as she replied, "Yeah, thank you. That'd be really great."

Dean nodded and opened the back-passenger door for her to get in, but right as she was about to slip onto the seat he said, "Hold on, we should at least know your name."

She paused, gazed at them and answered, "Lynn."

"Hey Lynn, I'm Dean, that's my brother, Sam, and this –" he patted the roof of the Impala. "This is Baby. We'll take good care of you."

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