supernatural s2 is SO GOOD because every decision has more weight because the after life is still unknown to us. we know there is something after death but we don't know quite what that is. the season starts with tessa the reaper begging dean to come with her. to where? she cannot say. when john dies it’s devastating to the brothers that he’s no longer here but elsewhere. but it’s even more devastating as they come to the slow realization that elsewhere is probably hell, whatever that looks like. sam and dean don't know anything more than the audience does about hell.
there is an effort to exorcise the possessed and save them instead of letting them die because there is no promise of heaven to be made. the ghost in roadkill wants to know what happens when she crosses over and sam and dean just don’t know. where do the monsters go when they die? are there angels? is there a god? sam and dean don’t know. sam more than anything wants to believe. and secretly dean does too. but they just don’t know.
when sam dies where does he go? dean doesn’t know. we never get to see it. and more than that. does dean truly believe that he would be sent to the same hereafter as his brother after everything he has done? all dean knows is that there is a way to damn your eternal soul to hell and there is a way to bring his brother back from the unknown and he will choose that path without hesitation over and over and over again.
the second the angels are introduced we lose that sense of unknown. while the stakes are higher in seasons 4-5 the second we can see behind the curtain it’s over. yes you can damn the world and start the apocalypse but at least you KNOW. you know there is an afterlife. a heaven. a hell. a hereafter. and all the people who die will end up will end up where they belong so how guilty can you feel using a demon knife to kill an innocent? how wrong is it to drain the host for blood? they’ll end up in heaven after all. no more pain. and that is how only the winchester family drama becomes important to the brothers, because they KNOW the end is not the end. there’s more than just ghosts and demons and reapers. there is a heaven. and if there is a heaven every wrong bad thing in the narrative can be brushed away by the characters or the audience as “well at least they are at peace in heaven now.” they do this to jimmy novak and ash and pamela and lord knows who else.
season 2 sam and dean don’t have this opt out. every choice they make is so much heavier because they just. don’t. know.
848 notes
·
View notes
Eddie finding Steve asleep sitting in the kitchen, waiting for the popcorn in the microwave, while the party are playing D&D. Eddie gently waking him up, accidentally letting some of his endearment show when he calls him angel and tells him to go get some sleep, that Eddie got it from here.
(I wrote a short little ficlet for this, I hope that's ok!)
“Alright! Enough!” Eddie tries and fails to be heard over the ruckus of seven teenagers each trying to get out of doing a task.
“Shut up!!!” he finally gets out at a register that demands attention. He is the DM after all, and a part of him preens at the way their startled, open-mouthed faces all turn toward him expectantly.
“I, your benevolent leader, will go refill the snacks,” he offers magnanimously. “While you all,” and this he punctuates with a sweeping gesture, “figure out how you’re going to get out of this dungeon without attracting the attention of Ezrog the Goblin King.”
There’s a new round of squabbling at that, Mike and Dustin convinced that they should take the west stairwell (a trap) while Gareth and Lucas arguing that they should swim out through the underground river (a good idea, Eddie begrudgingly admits).
He grabs the candy wrappers and empty soda cans within his reach and ascends the stairs from the Wheelers’ basement. He follows the scent of popcorn and a profoundly irritating beeping noise to the kitchen where he finds Steve perched on a barstool, slumped over the kitchen counter, fast asleep.
Eddie suddenly feels breathless. He’s never seen Steve so peaceful, so vulnerable. His hair is sticking up at all angles, he’s snoring slightly, and is that— it certainly is, there’s a bit of drool in the corner of his mouth. The permanent furrow between his brows is relaxed in sleep, although the dark circles under his eyes are still noticeable. Eddie knows Steve hasn’t been sleeping well. None of them have, still unable to feel truly safe.
Eddie tiptoes around Steve, careful not to wake him, and finds a cooling bag of popcorn in the microwave. Something clenches in Eddie’s chest. He hadn’t even heard Steve arrive, but here he is preparing snacks, taking care of them like always.
As quietly as possible, he takes the popcorn out of the microwave to stop that infernal beeping (how Steve is able to sleep through it is beyond him) and pours the popcorn into a bowl, grabs a few other things from the cabinet, and organizes them on the counter. He leans over toward Steve, as close as he dares, fingers ghosting over Steve’s hair, his cheek, admiring his long lashes and the freckles that dust his skin. He settles for gently grasping Steve’s shoulder.
“Steve, wake up,” he whispers. Steve mumbles something and then buries his face in the crook of his arm. Eddie can’t stop himself from reaching out and touching Steve’s hair, his heart bursting with fondness.
“Angel, you can’t sleep here, you’ll hurt your back,” he whispers slightly louder. Immediately he realizes what he let slip and waits, frozen, for Steve’s reaction. But Steve just grunts, and doesn’t move.
“Steve, man, c’mon,” Eddie tries again, and this time Steve lifts his head and looks at Eddie blearily.
“Wha-“ he gets out, looking adorably confused.
“You fell asleep in the kitchen,” Eddie can’t help but smile. “Come on, let’s get you over to the couch. You can nap there. The heathens and I still have quite a bit longer in the campaign, plenty of time for you to get some rest.”
Eddie helps (well, more like manhandles) Steve over to the living room couch, thrilling at the way Steve’s body is pressed to his side, loose-limbed and uncareful. Steve drops to the couch and is immediately asleep again, sprawled on his back, looking every bit the teenager he is. Eddie forgets that Steve is only 19, with how much he’s seen and done. But here, at rest, he is young, pure, holy. Eddie’s savior in more ways than one. He grabs a blanket off the armchair and spreads it over Steve, tucking it in on the sides. Stoops down in a semblance of a forehead kiss, just breathing in the scent of Steve’s hair, relishing a stolen moment of closeness.
“Sleep tight, angel.”
-
Three days later, Eddie finds himself in the passenger seat of Steve’s BMW, bickering, as usual, about music. He finds a sick sense of joy in being able to go toe-to-toe against Steve Harrington, King of Hawkins High, even if it’s about something innocuous, like the merits (or complete lack thereof) of Steve’s favorite band.
“Listen, Harrington, listen!” Eddie is getting into it now, feeling himself metaphorically jumping on top of his cafeteria table pedestal. “Wham! is the devil’s music! It’s demonic, only hellspawn can listen to that shit without their ears bleeding.”
Steve glares at him for a brief moment, before his expression fades into a cocky smirk. “Hellspawn?” He meets Eddie’s eyes. “I thought I was an angel.”
954 notes
·
View notes