DREAMS TO REALITY
Written for the Summergen Challenge on LiveJournal for the prompt: Sam and Dean used to have a bucket list. Now Dean's just glad they're both alive, but there's one thing on Sam's list he would like to make sure gets crossed off, what is it he wants to help Sam with? May be serious or humorous or both.
There are a handful of references in this story which are canon compliant, but overall the fic should be read on the basis that it does not adhere strictly to canon.
Disclaimer: I don't own them
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Chapter 1
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Most people, at some point in their lives, create a bucket list.
Some want to climb Kilimanjaro or swim with dolphins, others want to jump out of a perfectly good aeroplane, write a novel or even run a marathon. Most of them don't get anywhere close to doing those things, but everyone knows it's nice to have a dream.
Hunters, however, aren't 'most' people. Usually, their only dream is to not kick the bucket. That was the most any hunter could hope for.
However, that didn't stop a very young Sam and Dean Winchester, one murky evening in an even murkier bar somewhere in Boulder, Colorado, way back when Dean was only just legally allowed to drink, and Sam was suddenly tall enough to look like he was, talking all evening about their wishes and dreams. Dean had even got as far as writing them down on the back of a menu.
Sam wanted to be a lawyer, and to travel the world before settling down with his perfect nuclear family, complete with dog. He wanted to go to see a Shakespeare play in Stratford upon Avon, see the Grand Canyon from the air, learn to play a musical instrument – even Sam, with his high aspirations, knew that his singing voice was beyond redemption - and be fluent in a foreign language. There was other stuff as well; places Dean had never heard of before (and sure as hell didn't know how to spell), concerts, museums, art galleries, some dude called David in Florence, and a whole load of high-brow books that Dean just gave up listing.
Dean's list was far more modest. He really wanted to go to Hawaii, and for some reason, he would have loved to go to Italy. He didn't know why exactly, it just seemed like a cool country with awesome heritage, insanely delicious food, and strong, passionate people. What Dean did know was that with his flying issues, he had exactly zero chance of getting to either of those places, so he didn't even know why he was writing them down. Vegas, on the other hand; now that was on the same landmass so it was a definite possibility, and went down on the bucket list. The Grand Canyon too, considering it was just a big-ass crack in the ground, had been a long-held fascination for Dean. He'd thrown in the wish of seeing a couple of favourite bands play the Hollywood Bowl, just so that his list didn't look too paltry next to Sam's, and at the end of the evening, the menu had been tucked away in the Impala's glove box for future reference.
Six months later, Sam had upped sticks and headed off to Stanford to take his first steps on the path to becoming Sam the lawyer. In doing so, he left Dean behind, equal parts proud and heartbroken. From that day, Dean's dreams died, one by one, as surely as if the words had simply slipped off the page. From that day on his only wish was to stay alive, to continue the fight. From that day on he was a pure hunter.
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Fifteen years passed, and a lot of water flowed under the bridge. Sam came back into Dean's life after their four-year estrangement, and although Dean was beyond happy to welcome his brother back into the fold, he would have given every atom of his being for it to have happened some other way where a beautiful, innocent young woman didn't have to die, and Sam didn't have to be traumatised and broken.
But despite this, the years saw their bond strengthen and grow through all the tumult and tragedy of their lives, until they found themselves here and now; together, alive, and playing house in the bunker. As content and settled as they had ever been.
And it was one spring day in the here and now that found Dean in the bunker, trying to fix a flickering headlamp on the Impala.
He was rummaging around in the void behind and under her dash, emptying out the glovebox for the first time in forever to see if there was an easier way to access the wiring through that route. As he worked, his fingers fell upon a folded piece of paper, wadded into a crevice at the back of the glovebox.
Pulling it clear of the partially melted Life Saver that held it glued in place, Dean took the crumpled, age-yellowed page out and unfolded it.
Dean could see it was a menu from some or other diner. The text was faded by time, and blurred by red Life Saver stains, but Dean wasn't interested in that; he was interested in the writing on the back of the page. Written in blue ballpoint pen in his own blocky hand, Dean read the lists with a mixture of fascination, and rueful amusement.
It was their bucket lists. He felt his eyes become suspiciously moist when he read Sam's wish to become a lawyer, and by the time he got to the bottom of the list, he couldn't help feeling slightly hollow. It was a list of unborn dreams and missed opportunities.
Fucking hunting. Fucking Winchester luck.
He went to screw the page up, and drop it in the trash where it belonged, but something stayed his hand. He scanned it again.
Stratford-upon-Avon, Hawaii, Italy … yeah, whatever; they might as well be on the moon. Vegas – definitely possible, but Sam would hate every second of it. Then there was the Grand Canyon …it was the one thing that appeared on both their lists; a shared wish.
Dean stared at the words as if focussing upon them might make them reality.
Financially the brothers weren't in a bad place at the moment. Dean had just got two new credit cards approved, and he'd been through a bit of a purple patch with his hustling recently. They'd even received payment for a job the previous week.
It seemed that old buzzard who owned the mansion with the poltergeist problem had had a sweet spot for Sam – apparently old ladies always did (much to Sam's chagrin); but Dean wasn't above throwing his baby brother under the bus on occasion when a) it meant that a couple of hundred bucks might come their way and b) it was funny.
He trawled the internet for helicopter tours over the Grand Canyon, after all, Sam had been explicit in saying he wanted to see it from the air and was pleasantly surprised by the prices.
They could do this. Dean's heart began to race in excitement; they could really do this.
It was a fair way away, but hell, they'd driven 1,000 miles for an Ozzy Show before, 2 days for a Jayhawks game. This was way more special than either of those.
Dean would book a helicopter trip for Sam, and of course, he'd drive to the place, so he'd get to see it too, from ground level.
He scraped his hand through his hair and pondered. He'd have to sell it to Sam. Sam would bitch and moan and say they didn't have money to spend on stuff like that, but Dean didn't care. You don't put a price on ticking a box on your brother's bucket list.
His mind made up, Dean typed the details of his (actually, Dan Weismuller's) credit card into the screen, and took a deep breath as he clicked the submit payment button.
He smiled as he stared at the screen. "Sammy," he murmured to himself, "you're going to see the Grand Canyon!"
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"You did what?"
"I bought you a helicopter tour over the Grand Canyon, Sammy. Next week."
"But … I … I … uh …"
"It's customary to say thank you at times like this Sam."
Sam shook his head, blinking in an attempt to clear his thoughts.
"Yeah, sorry, yes – I mean, thank you … but, what's brought this on?"
Dean grinned. "You always wanted to see the Grand Canyon - from the air - didn't you?"
"Yes … I guess I … how did you know that?"
"I found those crappy old bucket lists we wrote years ago, all screwed up in the back of the Impala's glove box," Dean explained; "It's somewhere we both wanted to go, even back then, and although neither of us have exactly done well on our bucket list, this is something we CAN do. So, you've got a helicopter flight over the Grand Canyon, and I'll drive us there, so I'll get to see it from the comfort of a tourist café, hopefully with a beer and a Grand Canyon flavoured pie!"
Sam was amazed how, at times like this, his near forty-year old brother had the ability to project the sparkle-eyed glee of an excited ten-year-old.
"But Dean, I mean, it's a great thought, I really appreciate it; but we don't have the funds for something like this, do we?
… and there it was.
Dean rolled his eyes and let out an exasperated sigh. "I've got two brand new credit cards, and I had a couple of real good nights at the pool table down at the Golden Fleece last week, plus we got a bit of a bonus last week thanks to your girlfriend and her poltergeist."
Sam's eyes narrowed dangerously. "She's not my freaking girlfriend. She's sixty-seven!" If Dean wasn't being quite so awesome right at this moment, Sam would have wanted to wipe that annoying grin right off his smug face.
Dean's grin faltered and he shrugged; "whatever, I just think it's time to treat ourselves. We deserve a treat Sam, don't we? Who cares if it's not practical? When do we ever kick back, say 'screw the world', and just give ourselves a pat on the back?"
Sam nodded silently as if to acknowledge Dean's point.
"Well, this is it," Dean exclaimed; "this is me saying 'screw the world' and treating me and my baby brother to a trip we both deserve."
Sam's face softened with a smile; "Yeah Dean, thanks. It's the most amazing gift ever."
"And besides," Dean added, his eyes twinkling with mischief; "it's got to be worth getting felt up by Cruella DeVille for!"
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tbc