The Bucket List: Rewritten (Sabriel)

01 >> race down the corridor in our hospital beds

Hey guys! Long time no see :) I missed you lot and your funny comments, and I missed this plot too, so here I am, back again - I just can't stay away from you guys ;)

This version will be a lot longer and more detailed, and a much more mature writing style. Don't worry, the tone will stay the same; Gabriel's pov will definitely have the same immaturity and mischief that you love! There will be more backstory on the other ships of the story; destiel, michifer, emma and charlie, emma and bree (bethany and I are together irl so super weird to write about - that's why I switched the names!), charlie and jo. A lot more focus on the other characters, and a lot more 'mature content' wink wink.

For new readers, don't worry, you've come to the right place. It might be better to read this version, but I'm leaving the old version up because ngl it's iconic. Anyway, on with the story ~

Sam Winchester waited.

He waited for his brother to get back from the vending machines with his Doritos. He waited for his phone to beep with an email notification that he had passed his exams last week. He waited for the doctor in front of him to stop shuffling his papers and procrastinating telling Sam just what exactly was wrong with him.

The doctor coughed. A page slipped out from the binder. He fumbled for it, ruffling through the papers to find its correct place again.

Sam waited.

At last, the elderly doctor couldn't put it off any more. He cleared his throat, glancing up at Sam. He adjusted the glasses on his nose, peering solemnly at the tall young man as he smoothed out the first page in front of him.

Sam took a deep breath. The doctor's office smelled of disinfectant and pine, a smell too fresh to be reassuring for him. His eyes wandered the room, looking for comfort in something before he heard what his doctor had to say; the sound of the fan whirring in the corner didn't help - it grated upon his nerves, just like the harsh white light above him.

"Mr Winchester, I'm sorry." The elderly doctor said gently, leaning forward. "It has been confirmed that you have lung cancer."

Sam paused, before shaking his head sadly. He knew that this was coming. Or at least something like this. Coughing up blood, the biting pain in his chest, too painful to possibly be anything simple. The wheezing, far beyond asthmatic standards.

"Sam..." The doctor stood up, skirting around his desk to sit in the seat next to Sam. "Sam, I'm so sorry. This won't be easy for me to tell you."

Same blinked up at him. He had cancer. He knew it wouldn't be easy. What else could this grey-haired man in his white coat tell him? What other bad news could be coming his way, be worse than this?

"The cancer has spread too far to operate. Your lung cancer is, unfortunately... inoperable."

Sam choked on the breath he was taking in. The whirring of the fan seemed to grow louder, the light above him almost blinding. He couldn't do much else than stare at his doctor, his hands clenching into fists on the arms of his chair, his nails digging into the wood. The doctor started swimming in his vision; tears were welling up quickly in his eyes. Sam's eyes were burning; he was biting his lip so hard he could taste blood.

"So... so you're telling me my cancer is incurable?"

The doctor watched Sam solemnly as Sam lowered his gaze to the grey linoleum floor in horror.

"Yes, Mr Winchester. I estimate you have about six months."

Sam made a noise close to a whimper. He couldn't believe that this was happening to him. He was as good a guy as he could be: he held doors open for little old ladies, he let bugs out the window instead of squashing them, he used his height advantage to reach the top shelves in the shops for short people. He never smoked, he didn't spend a lot of time in the city, he never breathed in any harmful chemical for any notable length of time. So how could this be happening to him?