SPN 11.04 Baby
Working on some commentary catch-up, so finally here is my very-belated review for SPN 11.04 Baby
Baby, you were my picket fence
I miss missing you now and then
Chlorine kissed summer skin
I miss missing you now and then
Sometimes before it gets better
The darkness gets bigger
The person that you’d take a bullet for is behind the trigger
Oh
We’re fading fast
I miss missing you now and then
-- Fall Out Boy, Miss Missing You
So. Much. Love. for this episode. We had a seemingly stand-alone "milk run" case that focused on the in-between moments, the moments that usually get lost to the action and bigger picture concerns, character studies for our core characters, and forward movement for this season's myth-arc, all deftly rolled into one delightful package. Smooches to episode writer Robbie Thompson - well done. Probably one of my favorite episodes in quite a while. Which made reviewing this episode a bit difficult, because there was so much complexity and different items providing food for thought. I'll try to stay somewhat focused and coherent, but no promises.
Winchesters and dreams. More specifically, the faded dream of a white-picket fence, a normal life. Both Sam and Dean have tried it, Dean with Lisa and Ben, Sam with Amelia, and both ultimately rejected it. But there's still that kernel in their hearts that hasn't totally let go of the concept.
What's fascinating is both the similarities and differences in their viewpoint.
Dean: I dream about Dad all the time.
Sam: You do?
Dean: 'Course I do. It's usually the same one too. We're all in the car -- I'm sitting in the driver's seat and Dad's sitting shotgun. But there aren't any shotguns, and there's no monsters, no hunting, there's none of that. It's just he's teaching me how to drive, and I'm not little like I was when he actually taught me how to drive, I'm sixteen and he's helping me get my learner's permit. Of course you're in the back seat just begging to take a turn, we pull up to the house -- the family house. I park in the driveway, and he looks over and he says, 'perfect landing son.' I have that dream every couple of months, it's kinda comforting actually.
Sam: I always dream about Mom, usually the same kind of thing though.
Dean: Normal life?
Sam: Yeah. Normal life.
Normal just isn't in the cards for Sam and Dean. [You] can never go home (1.01) was our introduction to the boys, after all. It doesn't stop them from dreaming. My heart breaks for them a bit in this scene, learning that they both still harbor that buried desire for normal, to have the things most of us have the luxury of taking for granted.
Then there is reality. Or at least -- adjusted expectations.
Dean: One-night wonders, man. Shoot, we're lucky we still get that at all.
Sam: Really? You don't . . . Ever want something more?
Dean: I'm sorry, have you met us? We're batting a whopping zero in domestic life, man. Goose eggs.
Sam: You don't ever think about something? Not marriage or whatever. But . . . Something? You know, with a hunter? Somebody who understands the life?
Dean settles for one-night stands. It's emotionally safer to have no expectations beyond the comfort of the here and now, for tomorrow is nothing but uncertainty. Sam still wonders if something more might be possible. Not of the white-picket fence line of thought, but maybe a stable relationship with someone who is already in the hunting life, who understands the risks and is willing to accept it.
It makes me wonder just how much of Dean's outright rejection of the thought is based on fear of more pain of loss instead of pure pragmatism, because he's lost so much and every time he's tried for more, he lost that too. And Sam, well, Sam has always been the one who had a different starting point than Dean in the loss column. He never had normal to lose, so maybe that keeps him more open to the idea of compromise in this department. Sam never had a home in the traditional sense, never identified any place as having the security of "home".
Which brings us to the point of view of the episode, perhaps even the point of the episode: Home.
Home is where the heart is, right? Where you feel safe, secure, loved, accepted. The one ideal of home that Sam never had, despite knowing he was loved and cared for by his family.
Maybe it's taken all the knocks and losses accumulated collectively for the concept of home to come to fruition for Sam.
Baby - the Impala. Always Dean's car, his one possession he's held onto as the symbol of their family, connecting past to present. Family.
Honorary Winchester.
And like all the other Winchesters, she has taken her share of licks.
Sam: Oh man, Dean is gonna be pissed.
Bobby: Look, Sam. This... this just ain't worth a tow. I say we empty the trunk, sell the rest for scrap.
Sam: No. Dean would kill me if we did that. When he gets better he's gonna want to fix this.
Bobby: There's nothing to fix. The frame's a pretzel, and the engine's ruined. There's barely any parts worth salvaging.
Sam: Listen to me, Bobby. If there's only one working part, that's enough. We're not just going to give up on... (2.01)
Going back down memory lane, Sam identified the Impala with his brother. It was his symbol that Dean was okay. That his world was going to be okay. That family was never ever given up on and could always be fixed, no matter how bad the damage.
Chuck: [Baby] ended up at Rainbow Motors, a used-car lot in Lawrence, where a young marine bought her on impulse. That is, after a little advice from a friend. I guess that's where this story begins. (5.22)
Baby brought the Winchester family together, or the Winchesters brought her into the family, depending on how you look at it, and that's where things began. When darkness in the shape of Yellow Eyes entered Mary Campbell's life, eventually getting bigger to the point of destroying the Winchester's home.
Home can be such a subjective thing to define or identify. We all are familiar with sayings such as "home is where the heart it", and certainly we have been given ample evidence of Dean's love for his car. But the Winchester family is more than just a man and his car. It's grown over the years. Honorary members have been adopted... and some of them lost. Some of them damaged.
Castiel: Just call if you need anything.
Dean: Got it, Cas. Thanks.
Sam: You think he's gonna be okay?
Dean: He just needs some time, you know? We all do.
Baby witnesses family. The ties between Sam and Dean, the arguments, the teasing, the heart-to-hearts, the disagreements, the enduring loyalty that comes from years of experiences and memories gathered in a shared space. Castiel is a peripheral member of this family, present in voice only, but clearly one of the team. Tied by the same care and concern for each other.
Sometime the damage has come from each other, the metaphorical person behind the trigger, alluded to with Sam's references to how Cas wants to finish healing Dean's physical wounds from the beating he took at Castiel's hands when under the influence of Rowena's spell, and Dean's refusal of this proffered aid because of his own guilt for beating up Cas when he himself was under the influence of the Mark. Still, as long as there is one working part, the family endures. They still care, despite all the dents and nicks they've given and received.
Heck, Sam finally comes clean with Dean about something he had been holding back on. But he recognized that the moment had arrived for him to speak up and address it, knowing that Dean was going to not take it well.
And the silent Winchester bearing witness to it all has also taken her share of damage. She's been repaired each and every time, rebuilt from the ground up by the same dogged determination that refuses to give up on family.
Home is indeed where the heart is, and for the first time Sam identifies it in terms he has never verbalized before.
Dean: We'll get Cas to fix you up.
Sam: Only if he fixes you up, too.
Dean: Okay, mom. Let's go home.
Sam: You know what? We are home.
Dean: Come on. Come on. Ahh. There's my girl.
We are home. There, with his brother, in the space of shared memories of their lifetime. They are family, they look out for each other's well-being when they've taken a beating, and they carry on. Together. Baby looks out for them and takes her hits for them, and Dean will fix her back up, just as they continue to help fix each other up. If home can be tied to one place for Sam and Dean, it's the place where they share the most. Shared space, words, dreams, confessions, family.
The cloud on the horizon, however, isn't going away, its Darkness is just getting bigger. Dreams being twisted into possible visions of dubious trustworthiness, most damningly using the face of family to try to find an in, and monsters fearing that coming Darkness to the point of starting to create their own armies to fight against it.
Not to mention that unidentified mystery source for Sam's latest round of visions.
Sam: I think I've been having visions, too, lately. I mean, it's just images. I mean, more of a . . . feeling, really. But I just had one right now, and -- and Dad was in it. But it wasn't Dad like -- like . . . The dad that -- that I grew up with. It was Dad when he was our age. And I-I guess it wasn't even really Dad. It was someone pretending to be Dad and --
Dean: Okay, what makes you say that?
Sam: For starters, he told me everything I wanted to hear.
Hmm. Be wary of anyone telling you everything you want to hear. There is most likely an element of dishonesty or deception in it.
Baby is truly Sam and Dean's picket fence, dreams lost have been replaced with a solid reality of home. But care is going to be needed too. How are Dean and Sam going to tell the difference between what they want to believe, and what is the actual truth? Pipe-dream versus real picket fence? Probably the same way they always have. They'll talk it out, fight it out, hug or punch it out, debate and eventually likely find their compromise, but they will keep holding on to the things most important to them - home.
Baby, you were my picket fence
I miss missing you now and then
Chlorine kissed summer skin
I miss missing you now and then
Sometimes before it gets better
The darkness gets bigger
The person that you’d take a bullet for is behind the trigger
Oh
We’re fading fast
I miss missing you now and then
-- Fall Out Boy, Miss Missing You
So. Much. Love. for this episode. We had a seemingly stand-alone "milk run" case that focused on the in-between moments, the moments that usually get lost to the action and bigger picture concerns, character studies for our core characters, and forward movement for this season's myth-arc, all deftly rolled into one delightful package. Smooches to episode writer Robbie Thompson - well done. Probably one of my favorite episodes in quite a while. Which made reviewing this episode a bit difficult, because there was so much complexity and different items providing food for thought. I'll try to stay somewhat focused and coherent, but no promises.
Winchesters and dreams. More specifically, the faded dream of a white-picket fence, a normal life. Both Sam and Dean have tried it, Dean with Lisa and Ben, Sam with Amelia, and both ultimately rejected it. But there's still that kernel in their hearts that hasn't totally let go of the concept.
What's fascinating is both the similarities and differences in their viewpoint.
Dean: I dream about Dad all the time.
Sam: You do?
Dean: 'Course I do. It's usually the same one too. We're all in the car -- I'm sitting in the driver's seat and Dad's sitting shotgun. But there aren't any shotguns, and there's no monsters, no hunting, there's none of that. It's just he's teaching me how to drive, and I'm not little like I was when he actually taught me how to drive, I'm sixteen and he's helping me get my learner's permit. Of course you're in the back seat just begging to take a turn, we pull up to the house -- the family house. I park in the driveway, and he looks over and he says, 'perfect landing son.' I have that dream every couple of months, it's kinda comforting actually.
Sam: I always dream about Mom, usually the same kind of thing though.
Dean: Normal life?
Sam: Yeah. Normal life.
Normal just isn't in the cards for Sam and Dean. [You] can never go home (1.01) was our introduction to the boys, after all. It doesn't stop them from dreaming. My heart breaks for them a bit in this scene, learning that they both still harbor that buried desire for normal, to have the things most of us have the luxury of taking for granted.
Then there is reality. Or at least -- adjusted expectations.
Dean: One-night wonders, man. Shoot, we're lucky we still get that at all.
Sam: Really? You don't . . . Ever want something more?
Dean: I'm sorry, have you met us? We're batting a whopping zero in domestic life, man. Goose eggs.
Sam: You don't ever think about something? Not marriage or whatever. But . . . Something? You know, with a hunter? Somebody who understands the life?
Dean settles for one-night stands. It's emotionally safer to have no expectations beyond the comfort of the here and now, for tomorrow is nothing but uncertainty. Sam still wonders if something more might be possible. Not of the white-picket fence line of thought, but maybe a stable relationship with someone who is already in the hunting life, who understands the risks and is willing to accept it.
It makes me wonder just how much of Dean's outright rejection of the thought is based on fear of more pain of loss instead of pure pragmatism, because he's lost so much and every time he's tried for more, he lost that too. And Sam, well, Sam has always been the one who had a different starting point than Dean in the loss column. He never had normal to lose, so maybe that keeps him more open to the idea of compromise in this department. Sam never had a home in the traditional sense, never identified any place as having the security of "home".
Which brings us to the point of view of the episode, perhaps even the point of the episode: Home.
Home is where the heart is, right? Where you feel safe, secure, loved, accepted. The one ideal of home that Sam never had, despite knowing he was loved and cared for by his family.
Maybe it's taken all the knocks and losses accumulated collectively for the concept of home to come to fruition for Sam.
Baby - the Impala. Always Dean's car, his one possession he's held onto as the symbol of their family, connecting past to present. Family.
Honorary Winchester.
And like all the other Winchesters, she has taken her share of licks.
Sam: Oh man, Dean is gonna be pissed.
Bobby: Look, Sam. This... this just ain't worth a tow. I say we empty the trunk, sell the rest for scrap.
Sam: No. Dean would kill me if we did that. When he gets better he's gonna want to fix this.
Bobby: There's nothing to fix. The frame's a pretzel, and the engine's ruined. There's barely any parts worth salvaging.
Sam: Listen to me, Bobby. If there's only one working part, that's enough. We're not just going to give up on... (2.01)
Going back down memory lane, Sam identified the Impala with his brother. It was his symbol that Dean was okay. That his world was going to be okay. That family was never ever given up on and could always be fixed, no matter how bad the damage.
Chuck: [Baby] ended up at Rainbow Motors, a used-car lot in Lawrence, where a young marine bought her on impulse. That is, after a little advice from a friend. I guess that's where this story begins. (5.22)
Baby brought the Winchester family together, or the Winchesters brought her into the family, depending on how you look at it, and that's where things began. When darkness in the shape of Yellow Eyes entered Mary Campbell's life, eventually getting bigger to the point of destroying the Winchester's home.
Home can be such a subjective thing to define or identify. We all are familiar with sayings such as "home is where the heart it", and certainly we have been given ample evidence of Dean's love for his car. But the Winchester family is more than just a man and his car. It's grown over the years. Honorary members have been adopted... and some of them lost. Some of them damaged.
Castiel: Just call if you need anything.
Dean: Got it, Cas. Thanks.
Sam: You think he's gonna be okay?
Dean: He just needs some time, you know? We all do.
Baby witnesses family. The ties between Sam and Dean, the arguments, the teasing, the heart-to-hearts, the disagreements, the enduring loyalty that comes from years of experiences and memories gathered in a shared space. Castiel is a peripheral member of this family, present in voice only, but clearly one of the team. Tied by the same care and concern for each other.
Sometime the damage has come from each other, the metaphorical person behind the trigger, alluded to with Sam's references to how Cas wants to finish healing Dean's physical wounds from the beating he took at Castiel's hands when under the influence of Rowena's spell, and Dean's refusal of this proffered aid because of his own guilt for beating up Cas when he himself was under the influence of the Mark. Still, as long as there is one working part, the family endures. They still care, despite all the dents and nicks they've given and received.
Heck, Sam finally comes clean with Dean about something he had been holding back on. But he recognized that the moment had arrived for him to speak up and address it, knowing that Dean was going to not take it well.
And the silent Winchester bearing witness to it all has also taken her share of damage. She's been repaired each and every time, rebuilt from the ground up by the same dogged determination that refuses to give up on family.
Home is indeed where the heart is, and for the first time Sam identifies it in terms he has never verbalized before.
Dean: We'll get Cas to fix you up.
Sam: Only if he fixes you up, too.
Dean: Okay, mom. Let's go home.
Sam: You know what? We are home.
Dean: Come on. Come on. Ahh. There's my girl.
We are home. There, with his brother, in the space of shared memories of their lifetime. They are family, they look out for each other's well-being when they've taken a beating, and they carry on. Together. Baby looks out for them and takes her hits for them, and Dean will fix her back up, just as they continue to help fix each other up. If home can be tied to one place for Sam and Dean, it's the place where they share the most. Shared space, words, dreams, confessions, family.
The cloud on the horizon, however, isn't going away, its Darkness is just getting bigger. Dreams being twisted into possible visions of dubious trustworthiness, most damningly using the face of family to try to find an in, and monsters fearing that coming Darkness to the point of starting to create their own armies to fight against it.
Not to mention that unidentified mystery source for Sam's latest round of visions.
Sam: I think I've been having visions, too, lately. I mean, it's just images. I mean, more of a . . . feeling, really. But I just had one right now, and -- and Dad was in it. But it wasn't Dad like -- like . . . The dad that -- that I grew up with. It was Dad when he was our age. And I-I guess it wasn't even really Dad. It was someone pretending to be Dad and --
Dean: Okay, what makes you say that?
Sam: For starters, he told me everything I wanted to hear.
Hmm. Be wary of anyone telling you everything you want to hear. There is most likely an element of dishonesty or deception in it.
Baby is truly Sam and Dean's picket fence, dreams lost have been replaced with a solid reality of home. But care is going to be needed too. How are Dean and Sam going to tell the difference between what they want to believe, and what is the actual truth? Pipe-dream versus real picket fence? Probably the same way they always have. They'll talk it out, fight it out, hug or punch it out, debate and eventually likely find their compromise, but they will keep holding on to the things most important to them - home.