The List
K Hanna Korossy
Dean started the list after the third time or so that Sam ran out of one of his weird foods and kept whining about it. They'd never had a grocery list before—or a refrigerator to put it on—but once they had settled into the bunker, well, it seemed like the normal thing to do. Dean found a notepad with classic cars on the bottom of each sheet, because normal didn't have to mean boring, and they kept a running tally of what they needed until the next time someone made a supply run.
It was hard to care about mundane stuff like that these days. With being on the bad side of Chuck—God?—the ongoing destruction of countless worlds not their own, and free will and all of their lives in question, Dean couldn't muster much interest in whether they'd run out of peanut butter or not. He often lived on cereal and whatever he foraged from the pantry these days, and let Sam figure out his own meals.
Still, it was force of habit that had him glancing at the list as he opened the fridge to get the milk. And he stopped dead, cold creeping over his skin that had nothing to do with the cracked-open door.
There was a new notepad next to the grocery list one. It had flowers on it because, well, Sam, and Dean had seen those pads for sale at the little market they frequented. It also had Sam's writing on it, bold, clear letters.
Sam shooting Chuck
Getting rid of the Mark
Releasing Amara
There was room for more, but that was it.
Okay, so, not a shopping list. And Sam writing about himself in third person was…odd. Not to mention the whole list itself. Was this supposed to be some of their greatest hits? The second and third were kinda the same thing. Was it stuff Sam did that ticked off Chuck? Dean frowned as he shut the door and stared at the list, considering.
Clarity came with a flood of emotion.
All three were things Chuck hadn't wanted to happen. And despite his—a god's?—will and power and writing, they had.
Dean closed his eyes a moment, leaning against the cool steel door. It had gnawed at him relentlessly, the idea that they weren't in charge of their lives, that everything from their victories to their sacrifices, their skills and their relationships, were all the result of Chuck's sadistic mind. That he and Sam had just been puppets instead of actors, and everything they'd done had meant nothing.
The idea didn't seem to bother Sam so much, or maybe he just had enough belief in himself that he didn't buy it. But he knew it was choking Dean.
Then this list shows up. Three items even Dean couldn't argue.
He stared at the list for a long time, feeling the comfort of the balance he had with his brother. Sam believing for them when Dean was drowning in doubt. Dean carrying his little brother when Sam was struggling.
Then he pulled out a pen from the junk drawer and added a fourth item to the list.
They never talked about it. Sam didn't ask him to elaborate. Dean didn't debate the more debatable points. But they kept adding to the list, and each entry made Dean breathe a little easier. Sometimes he came into the kitchen just to look at it.
Sam telling Azazel to go screw himself
Dean telling Michael to go screw himself
Sam kicking Lucifer out
Dean not shooting Jack
Stopping the Great Hell Escape
Jack's birth
Getting Michael to help trap Chuck
Sorry I screwed that one up, Sam wrote beside it.
Right call, bro, Dean responded underneath. It was the closest they came to acknowledging the whole thing.
The list stayed there, next to the one with apples, beer, and spinach—spinach? Seriously?—until their final showdown with Chuck.
Then Dean tore off the sheet, crumpled and tossed it into recycling, and started a new list for dog supplies.
The End