In the Hunt: Unauthorized Essays on Supernatural

by Supernatural. tv,

  We aspire to be savvy about the dangers of love, but few of us really are. We aspire to control love rather than let love control us, but we seldom do.

  Dean (not really you) would have seen it coming. Dean (not really you) would have either walked away from Jess (love) to keep from getting her (again, love) killed (losing her), or he (not really you) would have saved her (love) because Dean (not really you) is just that strong, cool, and heroic a guy. And because he (not really you) would have been willing to walk away (punk out), if she (love) were to die anyway (get lost), Dean (not really you) would have no doubt blamed himself for that loss (because he’s wounded by life, and he suffers those wounds in silence, locking his pain inside where no one else will see it, even if they know it must be there because he’s emotionally distant, not emotionally absent), but it would be a wrongful blame (just a hero being heroically tragic), because Dean did everything right (he’s Dean [not really you]).

  He (not really you) is slick and witty and heroic and strong and incredibly hot and just the right mix of vulnerability and invulnerability (he was Dean). Because Dean (not really you) is all these things and more, it follows that if he (not really you) lost Jess (love), it would be the Demon’s (events beyond your control’s) fault. Yes, he (not really you) would likely take the blame because he’s the hero (as compared to human) and heroes (and children) blame themselves for failures beyond their capacity to prevent. But while Dean (not really you) would blame himself, he (not really you) wouldn’t let Jess’s (love’s) death (loss) break him, because he (not really you) would never let Jess (love) get to him that way (emotionally distant, anyone?). He’s stronger (emotionally unavailable) than that. Better (emotionally unavailable) than that. Cooler (emotionally unavailable) than that.

  He’s Dean (who you wish you could be).

  He’s not Sammy (who you really are).

  On the other hand, Sammy (you) totally deserves the blame (illogical guilt) he (you) takes as his own for Jess’s (love’s) death (loss) for a variety of reasons, all of which are self-imposed (guilt) and none of which are valid (Guilt with a capital G).

  First and foremost, Sammy deserves the blame (guilt) because he (you) should have seen it coming (it’s happened before, damnit!). Sammy should have walked away (punked out) from Jess (love) to save her (can’t lose what you don’t have). But he (you) was too much of a selfish (real), emo bitch (human) to do that, justifying (reasoning) his selfishness (emotional needs) with the idea that just because it (losing love) happened once in his life (life) doesn’t mean it will happen every time (logic, faith, emotional availability). What a selfish (real), emo bitch (human) Sammy is (you are) to take such a foolish (faith-based) risk (get back on the horse that threw you) with Jess’s life (love) and his (your) heart (heart). So Sammy (you) should have seen it coming (the fact that it could happen), and he (you) should have been willing to walk away (punk out) based on the fact that it (losing love) has happened to him (you) in the past (life) so it might happen to him (you) again in the future (life).

  We don’t learn not to risk love when we get our hearts broken. We learn to try again and hope for a different result. It’s called faith in the future, and it is one of the fundamental foundations of human nature.

  Secondly, Sammy deserves the blame (guilt) because he lied to Jess (love). He wasn’t completely truthful (human nature) about everything he is (human nature) and everything that has ever happened to him (human nature) in his past (life). He (you) didn’t warn Jess (love) that she could die (be lost) because he’s (you’ve) had that happen (losing love) before (life). Sammy (you) didn’t save her (love) because he (you) isn’t Dean (who you wish you were, how you would like to see yourself as being) enough to walk away from (punk out on) Jess (love) just because something bad (life) might (could, maybe, perhaps) happen.

  While we may aspire to avoid risking the kind of pain losing love brings by being strong enough to avoid the emotional entanglements that physical intimacy breeds, by being emotionally distant enough to get what we need from the physical intimacy alone, we can’t really do that. To love and be loved requires risking pain and loss. Anything less is just sex.

  And lastly, Sammy deserves the blame (guilt) because he (you) needed Jess (love). He (you) needed her (love) more than he should have (emo bitch that you are). And because the Demon (events beyond your control) is after Sammy (you), not Jess (love) … because every story told is all about Sammy (you) even if other people star in them on occasion.

  On an essential human level, in the real world rather than the theoretical world of poets and romance novels, love is about what we get, not what we give. And even in the giving, love is about what we get from the giving. Losing love is about what we lose getting, not what we lose giving.

  So Jess (love) only died (was lost) because the Demon (events beyond your control) was after Sammy (you). And Sammy (you), being the selfish (real), emo bitch (human) that he is, wasn’t Dean (not really you) enough to walk away (punk out) when he should have (before you became emotionally entangled). So he (you) deserves the blame (guilt). And he’s (you are) emo bitch (human) enough to show his pain (feel) all over the place (visibly) instead of bearing it (hiding it) in silence (heroically) like Dean (not really you) would do if he (who you want to be seen as) were in Sammy’s (who you are’s) place (loving and losing as compared to refusing to love so you won’t lose).

  Safety is in emotional distance. Love is in emotional risk. We aspire to be safe. We invariably fail at being safe in failing to resist the urge to risk. Emo bitches that all humans are, we fail at being strong enough to walk away from emotional risk for our own good, or for the good of others.

  On the subject of love, we most often aspire to be Dean: in control, mitigating risk, managing collateral damage. We most often are, however, Sam: out of control, neck deep in risk taken in faith of greater reward, and vulnerable to the full agony of every wound inflicted by love lost, by Jess put to the match by the Demon of events beyond our control.

  On the subject of Sammy and family, let’s talk John.

  Again, by talking Dean (yada, yada, yada, no Sammy without Dean, yada).

  This one thing we take to be self-evident: Dean (not really you) loves John (the family) without question. He follows John’s (the family’s) directives without argument, and always puts John’s (the family’s) needs above any need or desire Dean (not really you) might have or wish to have. In return, John (the family) takes Dean (not really you) for granted, an untenable situation Dean (not really you) bears in long-suffering silence, a wound the pain of which he (not really you) will never show (emotionally distant).

  We aspire to be self-sacrificing and heroic to a degree that the needs of those we love always come before our own. Very few of us actually are either that self-sacrificing or heroic, be the stakes life and death or just who gets the extra cookie.

  Sammy (you), on the other hand, is clearly John’s (the family’s) favorite. And yet Sammy (you) is a bit of a selfish (real), emo bitch (human) rebel (individual), especially compared to Dean (self-sacrificial not really you). Sammy (you) puts what he (you) wants at least equal to, if not above, what John (the family) wants. Beyond that, Sammy (you) categorically refuses to follow John’s (the family’s) directives blindly, although he (you) will go along with John’s (the family’s) plan if he (you) agrees with it (get something out of it, too) and John (the family) doesn’t treat him (you) like a child (member of lesser standing).

  All of which is not to say that Sammy (you) loves John (the family) any less than Dean (not really you) does. In fact, all evidence in play suggests Sammy (you) loves John (the family) fiercely and is willing to sacrifice and die for John (the family) if necessary. That being said, he (you) still won’t sublimate his desires or identity to John’s (the family’s) control, because he (you) is still primarily an individual (you) first and John’s son (a member of the family) second, as he (you) should be. Furthermore, Sammy (you) doesn’t exist only as an extension of
John (the family), nor will he toe the line John (the family) consistently tries to pressure him (you) into toeing, not because it is best for Sammy (you), but rather because John (the family) is all about John (the family), even if he (the family) does love his sons (all the members of the family).

  It also bears pointing out that, in contrast to Dean (not really you), if John (the family) presumes upon Sammy’s (your) individuality, or if John (the family) presumes to take Sammy’s (your) commitment to John (the family) for granted, Sammy (you) rails at the heavens (emo bitch that you are), shouts his protest (selfish individual that you are), and tells John (the family) exactly where he (again, the family) can shove his bull hockey (lack of appreciation for sacrifices made) and how far up it should go (what a rebel).

  And Sammy does this because he (you) is an individual. He (you) is someone with hopes and dreams and a future of his own (normal), not only hopes and dreams and a future that revolves only around John (the family). Yes, Sammy (you) is John’s son (a member of the family); but he (you) is not only John’s son (a member of the family).

  Family is our identity, but it is not our only identity. Though we may aspire to (and even perceive ourselves to) put the needs and/or wants of our families (or others we love) before our own, the reality of human nature is that we are individuals first, and members of a group second. What the group wants or needs may harmonize with what we, as individuals, want or need, but it rarely supersedes those wants or needs except in the most atypical of circumstances (Dean’s going to die and Sammy can save him) or the most extreme cases of an imbalance of need (Dean is starving to death and Sammy just wants the last cookie).

  But even as an individual, fiercely independent and determined to be his own person (again, normal), Sammy (you) and John (the family) are so much alike in so many ways that everyone but he (you) and John (the family) can see the resemblance as clear as day. Which, of course, is why Sammy (you) and John (the family) fight like cats and dogs, usually within minutes of finding each other again and having a happy reunion full of hugs and professions of undying loyalty, fidelity, and love, love, love.

  Love doesn’t mean compatibility. We aspire to dovetail perfectly with those we love, working together like well-oiled machines. Far more often, though, we dovetail with those we love like oil and water to the end of enormous conflict and/or a fine vinaigrette dressing. But that doesn’t mean we love them any less, or don’t miss them when they aren’t making us crazy with how much they make us crazy.

  All that touchyfeely (emotionally available), chick-flicky (emotionally available), huggy crap (emotionally available, expressing feelings), of course, isn’t something in which Dean (not really you) would indulge. He’s too cool (emotionally unavailable). He’s too strong (emotionally unavailable). He’s too Dean (not really you.)

  Sure, there’s always a hug there for John (family) in a quick, guy-hug kind of way (I love you, man… . Can I have your beer?), as well as an obvious allegiance (love) for John (the family) that Dean (not really you) is more than willing to express/show (even tough guys love their daddies). And beyond that, Dean’s (not really you’s) love for John (the family) actually supersedes all else (not really you’s individuality) in how obviously Dean (not really you) defines himself as John’s son (a member of the family) first and an individual second.

  But even so (being Daddy’s boy instead of your own man), Dean (not really you) wouldn’t get all emo bitch (human) about that emotion all the time (emotionally unavailable). He (not really you) wouldn’t fret (actively) about whether or not John (the family) loves him. He (not really you) would never think John (the family) would turn away from (abandon) him, or not want to see (stop loving) him. Yes, those are his (not really you’s) greatest fears, but he won’t indulge them (show them) because he is too strong (emotionally unavailable). He is too cool (emotionally unavailable). He is too Dean (not really you).

  In contrast, Sammy (you) will actively fret (emotionally available) over whether or not John loves him (emo bitch that you are), wants to see him (petulant grudge-holding bitch that you are), or is angry with him (Daddy’s boy that you are, even while being your own man). But unlike Dean (not really you), Sammy (you) won’t fear those things to an unnatural (emotionally constipating) degree. To the contrary, despite all his (your) apparent emo bitchness (human insecurity) on the subject of John (the family), Sammy (you) is quite confident (normal) that as his father (blood of your blood), John (the family) will always love him (you), even if John (the family) is mad at him (petulant grudge-holding bitches that they are) and a real pain in the ass (too much like you to ever not piss you off) when y’all get together on holidays.

  We aspire to be the way we want our families to see us when we are with them. Invariably, they see us exactly as we are anyway. Thanksgiving is particularly good for both hugs and fistfights, regardless of what level of emotional unavailability you aspire to maintain right up until you ring the doorbell with pie in hand.

  But despite Dean’s (not really you’s) self-sacrificial (abnormal) loyalty and obedience to (dependence on) John (the family), and despite Sammy’s (your) more selfish (real), emo bitch (human) antagonism (unrelenting individualism) when it comes to John (the family), Sammy (you) is clearly John’s (the family’s) favorite. But Dean (not really you) doesn’t resent it (because he’s the self-sacrificing hero). In fact, Dean (not really you) takes great pride and satisfaction in seeing how much John (the family) loves Sammy (you). And while this might smack (to the uninitiated) of self-sacrifice on Dean’s (not really you’s) part, it is actually Dean’s (not really you’s) true and deep understanding that, no matter how different they (you and your family) may look on the outside (to others), it is really John (the family) and Sammy (you) who are just alike (cut from the same bolt of genetic cloth, as it were).

  Regardless of what we aspire to be, we can usually see who we really are if we stop to look into the eyes of those who love us enough to know us as we are. And to prefer that reality over the more heroic and/or cooler individual we might aspire to be. Even if the other guy does drive a ’67 Chevy Impala.

  Because all overt surface detail (clone-ish similarities) to the contrary, Dean (not really you) and John (the family) only look alike. And they do (look alike) because John (the family), like Sammy (you), wants to see himself as something he (the family) really isn’t: Dean (not really you). Cool, witty, heroic, self-sacrificing, wounded to the soul yet still emotionally distant Dean (again, not really you. And not really them either).

  So John (the family) is no more Dean (not really you) than Sammy (you) is. In fact, truth be told, John (the family) is also a bit of a selfish (real), emo bitch (human) who puts his own (the family’s) needs above Dean’s (not really you’s) and Sammy’s (yours) by doing things like trying to sacrifice himself (shoot me in the heart, son!) for a freaking cause (it’s more important than me, it’s more important than anything) on the altar of Mary’s (love) death (loss)-a death (loss) at the hand of a Demon (events beyond their control), but for which John (the family) inexplicably (but you understand it, don’t you?) blames himself (because every story told is all about the family even if other people star in them on occasion), the same way Sammy (you) blames himself (because every story told is all about you even if other people star in them on occasion) for Jess’s (love’s) death (loss) at the hand of that same Demon (events beyond your control).

  People are actually very much alike in how they really are. Likewise, self-perception is invariably aspirational to very similar states of heroic being. We call these aspirational states of being archetypes. We also call them stars. We occasionally call them Dean.

  Yeah. Sammy (you) and John (the family) are two peas in a pod. And Dean (not really you) is actually-despite surface similarities (the way both you and your family want to see themselves, but not the way either you or your family actually is) to the contrary-the odd man out, if only in the fact that he (not really you) isn’t the selfish (real) emo bitch (human) h
e would have to be to qualify as that third pea in the peapod. So the whole three Deans (Sammy [you selfish emo bitch you]-wants-to-be-Dean, John [those selfish emo bitches, too]-wants-to-be-Dean, Dean [not really you or anyone else, just an aspirational state of being]-is-Dean) in a peapod thing? Not gonna happen. Because while three Deans in a peapod is every fangirl’s fantasy, that just ain’t the way real life works (thus fanfic).

  In real life, the heroes are never the cool, witty, selfless, swaggering, smooth, ridiculously handsome, rebellious, emotionally distant, stoic, strong, wounded-to-the-soul-but-suffering-it-all-in-silence-with-only-an-occasional-tear-shed-to-tell-the-tale guys. Rather, they are invariably sorta-smooth but still-a-bit-geeky dorks with floppy hair, dressed in somewhat baggy clothes with an occasional opportunity to look really hot in just a towel, smart, nice, mostly respectful, more-or-less law abiding, selfish, emo bitches who cry when they’re hurt, bleed when they’re cut, and get all chick-flicky when they really, really, really need to get or give a hug.

  All of which is to say: Dean is an aspirational state of being. He’s not really you. Nor anybody else, for that matter.

  In real life, the heroes need their hollyhocks (asses) saved by someone else every once in a while, too. They fight with those they love, and in those fights, they’re wrong (I am not!) as often as they’re right. They have just enough fumble with the opposite sex to make them accessible, and without fail-without freaking fail-they put what they need and/or want above what others need and/or want all the time (the same way every other real human being on the planet does). Where their heroism kicks in, then, isn’t in the day-to-day of living life; it’s in the extreme situation, the rare occurrence, the event outside our normal capacity to control. That’s when heroes (storytelling or otherwise) can, and will, rise above the failings of our shared human nature to heed the call of extraordinary action, even when that call requires sacrificing themselves for the good of someone else.