A Love Letter to Supernatural
Dear Andrew, dear Meredith, dear Bobby, dear Jeremy, dear Robbie, dear Robert, dear Kim, dear Sera, dear Jenny, dear Brad, dear Eugenie, dear Ben, dear Daniel, dear Davy, dear Adam, dear Jim, dear Jerry, dear Richard, dear Amanda, dear Philip, dear John, dear Thomas, dear Charles, dear Guy, dear Mike, dear Nina, dear Serge, dear McG, dear Todd, dear Christopher, dear Jay
Dear writers, dear directors, dear crew, dear producers, dear executives, dear CW, dear WB,
Dear anyone who participate even so slightly to the weekly miracle
Dear cast, from the recurring roles we’ve seen on dozens of episodes, to the guest who’ll die in twenty seconds flat massacred by a werewolf or a wendigo
Dear Jared, Dear Jensen, Dear Misha
Every week, it’s the same ritual. It never fails. Hellatuses aside, every Thursday morning, even before the cold bite of a mid-week’s morning gnaws at my brain, there’s this simple, magical phenomenon. I associate Thursday with its weekly treasure, and all of a sudden, even the worst of days becomes bearable. I feel like a kid around Christmas, and I countdown the hours until the delicious relief of getting another piece of my beloved puzzle. I’ll laugh, I’ll cry, I’ll shiver in fear, I’ll worry for characters I love more than I could explain, and I’ll eventually end up breathless, frustrated and happy. Another glimpse at the bigger picture, another set of burning questions, another big bucket of emotions spilled all over it. Another excited debate and endless talks with my chosen family, and another general agreement hours later : oh, do we love that show so very much.
I was eight years old when I first fell in love with a TV show. FBI agents chasing aliens. Ever since, I’ve loved dozens and dozens of others shows, of all calibrates, all lengths, all pretenses, all storylines, all genres. Some I’ve loved with my whole soul. Some I’ve just liked. Most of them I’ve carried in my heart for a while, sometimes long, sometimes less. Often, I grew out of love, and out of respect for both parts, I let go. I peeked, on numerous occasions, in hopes that I’d get that lost feeling back. It never happened. What was gone was gone, we both signed the divorce papers and shared one last kiss, fierce leftover of what once was fire. They kept going, and so did I. Several stopped, and I didn’t.
And then one day…One day, my path crossed the Winchester’s. Randomly. I’d never really thought that those boys would become the love of my life. I gave them one chance to win me over, one ridiculously small flare to let them light a fire. The odds weren’t in our favor at all. But you know the Winchesters, right? Hand them one match, and the whole thing will go up in flames. And chances are they’ll make s’mores out of it, laughing at how naive I was not to trust them right away.
I fell in love with Supernatural. Madly. Passionately. Intensely. With my whole, entire heart, soul, mind, and everything in between. Everything became Supernatural. It’s not something you do, it’s something you are.
My attachment to those two brothers overpassed by a mile any other form of closeness to any other character of fiction of any sort, be it on paper, in the big screen, from a comic, or between the lines of scripts formatted for television. Granted, killing them on a fairly regular basis probably helped. It wrecked me, and fixed me for the sole purpose of wrecking me again, and on and on. And I asked, no, I begged for more. For some obscure reason, the more shattered I was, the better I felt overall. That’s, ironically enough, sorcery.
They weren’t spared anything. Any loss, any sacrifice, any fight, any wound, any pain, they’ve endured it all with a courage that’s inspiring. It got me through some fights of my own. At any given time, pondering what would the Winchesters do certainly helped me out…Or had me to deal with crossroads demons. It’s okay, I have a few years left. Selling my soul for convention tickets was totally worth it.
Their so very human mistakes echoed mine, and their lives were drawing several parallel lines along my own, which, often enough, made me question how could two brothers, an angel and a top-notch car chasing monsters resemble my own fights against my own demons that much. I looked for it for a while, and then I gave up. You don’t always need to know the recipe to let the magic happen.
But then it hit me.
Supernatural doesn’t cheat. It doesn’t force fake emotions on us. It doesn’t pretend that feelings are better or smaller than they are supposed to be. It doesn’t lie. Wherever Supernatural goes, it’ll go wholeheartedly, jumping into puddles of dirt and rain with its two feet and splashing around and laughing hysterically like the wild child this show is and will forever be. When it has crazy ideas, it owns them. When it has heartbreaking ones, it’ll dig the deeper it can to give us the rawest, realest sentiment humanly achievable. Supernatural’s teamwork to break us down is a work of alchemy. It takes the perfect writers, the perfect directors, the best crew…And the perfect actors. Those three are a match made in heaven, and light attracts light. They’re a force to be reckoned with, pranks included.
Often, the question of what show I consider being the best one ever made is asked to me. And for a very, very long time, I couldn’t reply. I gave a vague, temporary answer, one that was rooted in the certitude that it’d change, one way or another, sooner rather than later. Today, I don’t even need to bat an eyelash. I don’t have to think about it. My answer is always the same, and it’s engraved inside of me permanently. It’s fixed. It won’t change, which is both the greatest thing, and the saddest. I’ll never get anything even as remotely good as Supernatural, and there’s no point in even trying. Lightning never strike twice in the same place.
I’ve tried to quantify how much I love Supernatural. I can’t. Every time I tried to settle down on something, a new episode comes and knocks me off my socks and re-igniteS a fire than never needed it in the first place. The Winchesters, angel, nephilim and rogue mother included are creators of chaos and I never have enough off it. I like chaos. I thrive in chaos. I’ve never been happier, and this season makes me dizzy with joy week in, week out. Everything does. From the way Jack was introduced and became essential, to how Castiel came back to us, to the beautiful arc revolving around Sam’s struggles, to digging how deep Dean feels the losses and how far he’d go to stop suffering…And this is the tip of the iceberg only. Everything is perfect. Every character is written with such delicate care, crafted with such passion, developed with such patience and eager to push them to their outer limits, played out beautifully by our current list of experts actors. Every storyline, every plot is blooming gloriously, adding another touch of color to the final masterpiece, one we’ll be allowed to contemplate on the season finale only, but that’s already setting the bar so high for the future. So far, lucky 13 is giving us the proof that a decade and a half later, Supernatural keeps on growing spectacularly.
Supernatural is the love of my life. It gave me everything I wasn’t convinced I was good enough to receive.
It gave me hours of the best, most compelling story ever told.
It gave me the one show that is exactly what I was looking for in modern television.
It gave me the highest possible level of catharsis I could achieve in this life.
It gave me the strength to stay alive.
It gave me a world of canon to explore, one I’ll never have enough time in one life to decipher and analyze.
It gave me a world of non-canon to play around, too.
It gave me characters I love to the moon and back. All of them. Regardless to their mistakes and their flaws. That’s what makes them beautiful.
It gave me Sam, the perfect echo of who I wasn’t allowing myself to be. The perfect ally to correct it.
It gave me Dean, the mentor figure, the one to look up to. His courage is inspiring beyond measure.
It gave me Castiel, the dysfunctional angel, and the best fit to cement the sometimes wobbly bricks between the brothers.
It gave me a family. It gave me brothers and sisters. It gave me friends. It gave me soulmates. It gave me partners.
It gave me a fandom. It makes me mad, it makes me angry, it makes it better before it starts over.
It gave me role models. Leaders. Fighters for a better world. Selfless activists. Flawless writers. Empowering speakers.
It gave me giggles worth losing my breath over.
It gave me the feeling that I belong. It never took it away.
It gave me a proper sense of what fangirling was. I never judged me for it.
It gave me opportunities I could never be thankful enough for.
It gave me tears of happiness, on top of previous tears of the same style, on top of more tears of sheer gratefulness.
It gave me hope.
It gave me happiness.
To my beloved cast and crew, as whole, as a team…You all changed my life in ways I’m sure I deserved, and I’m forever grateful for all the insane work you’re doing, and how beautifully you’re doing it. I’m forever indebted to you all in ways I’ll never be able to repay.
I’m not gonna stop trying, though.
So I’m going to love y’all louder. I’m going to bathe in the Thursday bliss. I’m going to keep on spreading my wings within this family. I’m going to throw myself entirely to my weekly analysis of your exceptional work. I’m going to keep on sighing in glee anytime one of you pops up on my timeline. I’m going to keep on debating the smallest details with my friends and arguing in passion and ending the conversation with a virtual group hug tight enough to be felt across the world. I’m going to keep on bouncing excitedly in anticipation for the next episode. I’m going to let my inner child roam unleashed at the uncommon yet celebrated joy of her favorite cartoon crossing over to her favorite show. I’m going to take overwhelmingly the upcoming heartbreaks, losses, drops of pure beauty I’m going to have to undergo in the fast approaching season finale. I’m going to try and give back any and every ways I can. I’m going to spread the love. I’m going to participate in the conversation and add my voice, and I’m going to keep on nurturing my fondness and my adoration for this show that never, ever, ever stops blowing my mind away, season in, season out.
I couldn’t be more proud of being a Supernatural fan, and yet, I know you’re somehow gonna make me even prouder in the weeks to come.
What we have is beautiful, and I’ll never thank you enough for it.
With all of my heart, my love, my devotion (and a good chunk of my bank account)