The Dee-Annotated Supernatural - Nightmare
Just once, when I click on the "Why did you play this song?" on Pandora, I want it to say, "Because it's awesome, what are you, retarded?"
So, "Nightmare", huh? Must admit, I'd been primarily looking forward to this as an episode to get past so we could have "The Benders" (since Channel fucking Ten is determined to take as bloody long about it as possible) but there was much to recommend itself to our senses, and a hefty helping of mirth was had in Chez Dee tonight, as I shall now sing...
Nightmare
For a great deal of the non-Winchester prologue, the Male and I were talking about surefire ways to get yourself into the last four remaining houseguests on Big Brother. The SHAME.
Sam: *wakes up, sits up, looks around*
Me: OK, lay off the cheese.
The Male: Where am I? Who am I? Who're you?
Me: Why am I clutching a policeman's helmet?
Sam: Dean. Dean. *shakes his arm*
Dean: *wakes up*
Me: Five more minutes, Mom!
Lamps: *change into headlights*
The Male: WHOA! Cinematic method!
Dean: *skepticises all over Sam*
The Male: Y'know, I would've thought that Dean would give more credit to Sam's dreams. I mean, one of them has checked out already, surely this is no weirder than any other way they find their jobs. In fact, it's a rock-solid lead.
Me: It's still the middle of the night. I'd get grumpy and recalcitrant.
The Male: You'd still be asleep. God forbid I ever have a dream vision of impending doom. It'd take me a week to get you out of bed.
Me: FIVE MORE MINUTES, MUM!
Also, Sam has a "serious cop voice". This causes me giggles.
Boys: *arrive at the crimescene*
Corpse: *is body-bagged*
My phone: *beeps*
girloftheq: He should be bright pink! Do some research, people!
Me: *cackle*
Dean: *looks over at Sam*
Me: OK, so I owe you five bucks.
Sam: *watches crimescene, looks antsier and antsier until he storms off*
The Male: My hair is pissing me off so much I'm going to go and punch something.
Dean: We got here as fast as we could.
Sam: Not fast enough.
Me: Are you talking shit about the car, dude? Because we can take this outside.
Dean: Maybe there's nothing supernatural going on at all.
The Male: On this show? Do you even know what it's called?
Sam: Dean, you saw them, they're devastated. They're not gonna want to talk to us.
The Male: And this differs from every other incident you've worked how?
Dean: But I think I know who they would talk to.
Sam: Who?
The Male: Mom? But she's dead!
Me: But you'd look great in a wig, Sammy!
Dean: I'm Father Simmons, this is Father Frehley.
The Male: Oh GOD.
Me: Not quite. But he gave rock and roll to you.
The Male: Hang on. Priests at a SUICIDE?
Me: A caring gesture on the church's behalf to make up for the fact that we can't bury the guy in consecrated ground.
(Mrs Miller: *has a really familiar voice*
Me: *dashes off in commercial break to find out who she is*
Me: It's one of Sabrina the teenage witch's aunts!
The Male: You're one of Sabrina the teenage witch's aunts!)
Dean: So Mrs Miller, did your husband have a history--
The Male: Of killing himself?
Me: Did it all the time.
The Male: Every time we turn around, whoops! he's hanged himself again!
Sam: I'm so sorry you had to find him like that.
Mrs M: Actually, our son, Max...
Us: MAX!
The Male: I win at everything!
This is, of course, a reference to " Home", in which there was the following exchange:Mary: Dean. *She smiles and moves past Dean, towards--
The Male: Max.
Me: Where did Max come from?
The Male: That's his question. And then Dean goes, "Shit. Mom! What'd you have to tell him that for?" And then he has to explain about the baby dying and how they got a good genetic sample first and made a clone.
Me: Sam is actually spelt "Xam".
The Male: Because Dean needed someone to throw the good lines at.
So Dean might not be freaked out by anything, but the Male's a little bothered by his own precognitive skillz. I believe he has come to the conclusion that so long as he's using his powers for good (read: Puns and Humour) then it's all fine.
Dean: *toddles upstairs and whips out his--*
The Male: Pants-o-meter?
Me: Nope. What the fuck IS that thing?
The Male: Sonic screwdriver?
Me: More like a rave device. He'd be a hit at dance parties.
Incidentally, somehow his wristwear with the priest get-up is extra-special nngh-inducing.
Dean: *cleans every gun he owns*
Me: *expires, surprising no one*
The Male: Note the absence of bullets.
Me: Yeah, that's because Dean's SMRT.
(Note that this is in relation to a recent piece of Australian news. A soldierboy in Iraq gets shot in the temple cleaning his gun. There are layers and layers of stupid and obfuscation on this one, but that's the gist.)
Dean: You OK?
Sam: Yeah.
Dean: If you're going to hurl, I'll pull the car over, because the upholstery...
Me: OMGHEART!
The Male: You and that car, man.
Me: No, me and Dean's gruff big brotherliness omg.
The Male: Whatever.
Sam: Dean, I'm scared, man.
Me: OMG! *diez*
And Dean all gruff and face-twisty and omg. OMG!
Dean: We face the unexplainable every single day; this is just another thing.
Sam: No. It's never been US. It's never been in the family like this.
Me: Except for that thing with your mother on the ceiling. And your girlfriend.
The Male: They're not his family; he's a clone, remember?
Me: No, MAX is the clone. Oh, this is getting stupid.
Sam: Tell me the truth, you can't tell me this doesn't freak you out.
Dean: *long pause* This doesn't freak me out.
And I'm all... I don't even know. I could probably meta for a whole page on this and still be no closer to a declaration of intent or interpretation or... oh MAN. Because he means it, but he's still so troubled for Sam. It's just fucking beautiful.
Sam: Hey Roger!
Roger: What are you guys, missionaries? Leave me alone!
Sam: Please!
Dean: *revs and parks with gay abandon*
Me: Wow. That's the most disrespect Dean has ever shown for his car.
The Male: Apart from taking on the monster truck from hell.
Me: Nah, that was just a pissing contest.
Dean: *checks both ways, and then kicks the shit out of the gate*
Me: I LOVE HIS RIGHT BOOT!
And his climbing technique. And his grim capability in the face of horrific blood. And his common sense in wiping off the fingerprints. And just, y'know, his DEANNESS omglove.
Sam: Now I know what we have in common. Both our families are cursed.
Dean: *pulls a face* Our family's not cursed. We just... had our dark spots.
Sam: Our dark spots are pretty dark.
Dean: You're dark.
The Male: *cackles*
Me: OK, you? Are not allowed to write Dean's dialogue any more.
The Male: Now say GIMME SOME SUGAR, BABY.
I swear, the look Sam gets when he's being hit in the head with the future like a chunk of 4x2? Ice-cream headache. The future, apparently, is cold.
But brotherly hugginess is obviously awesome.
World: *goes crazy in Sam-cam*
Me: He's gonna drop.
The Male: The bigger they are, the harder they fall.
Me: Catch the swooning maiden, Dean!
In vision-land, Mrs M is chopping celery with a big knife.
The Male: Hello murder weapon!
Me: Why is she cooking? She has her own weight in casseroles home-delivered!
Sam: We're not going to kill Max.
Me: Dude, you spoil all my fun. ALWAYS.
Dean: What, are we just going to hand him over to the cops and say, "Lock him up, officer, he kills with the power of his MIND."
Us: *MIRTH!*
Max: You didn't stop them, not once--
Door: *gives in to the power of Dean's right boot*
The Male: Avon calling!
Me: Whatever happened to knocking?
Sam: I'm having visions, Max. About you.
Max: You're crazy.
Me: Hey, don't you talk shit about my baby brother! No one calls him crazy but me!
Max: *drops big bomb about his mother dying on the ceiling on fire*
The Male: Well, bugger me senseless!
Me: That's a bad thing to say to a telekinetic power.
The Male: *loses it* Word of God!
Sam: The same thing killed out mothers.
Me: Maybe we're related!
I could've sworn Sam said something about "financiers". But after two minutes of "WTF?money?" I realised that no, it was "find answers". DICTION, PADALECKI!
Max: No. What they did to me...
The Male: ...was monstrous. And it created a monster. For fuck's sake.
Sam: *flies into the closet*
The Male: He is so shit at hide and seek.
Me: Come out of the closet!
Door: *opens by itself to admit Max*
Me: Two walk in, one walks out; guess we know how that went. Take him down, Dean.
Dean: *gets ballisticked*
Us: WHOA.
Me: My turn next!
Dean: *stalks towards Max with intent*
Max: *leaves the gun in midair*
The Male: Well, that's a new trick.
Dean: *is cactus*
Sam: *is having visions in the closet*
Me: SAM SMASH! Get your ire on, baybee.
Sam: *bursts in at the opportune moment* No don't, don't, please.
Me: Because if you, I will go psycho crazy and that would be bad.
Max: *blows his own brains out*
Me: Well shit. Like Sam didn't have enough angst to be going on with.
Sam: There's something else too.
Dean: Oh geez what?
Sam: When Max locked me in that closet with that big cabinet against the door... I moved it.
Dean: Got a little more upper body strength than I gave you credit for.
Sam: No, man, I moved it. Like...Max.
Dean: Oh. Right.
Sam: Yeah.
Dean: *picks up teaspoon* Bend this.
There is no part of that exchange that is not awesome, and I got to re-enact the entire thing because the Male got a phone call and left the room to take it.
Though I couldn't possible convey Dean's little "huh" face, which is possibly the cutest thing in the world and makes me giggle a great deal.
Dean: As long as I'm around, nothing bad is going to happen to you.
Me: *dies of n'aww and giggles and IRONY because we know what's coming next week, don't we? bwahaha*
Dean: Now then. I know what we need to do about your premonitions. I know where we have to go.
Sam: Where?
Dean: Vegas.
And then he GRINS and everything saintsomeone said about the depantings effect of that grin is really quite accurate, you know.
But then the little look. When Sam's back is turned and Dean's just all *worries* and OMG. O.M.G. *squishes*
So that was kinda a fun episode, but not really hitting any great highs or lows. Bring on the Sam in a cage, anyway!
Also, the Male referred to them as "Padalackles" and I wanna know why the hell that hasn't been used in fandom yet. Apart from the fact that it sounds like a sort of shellfish.
So, "Nightmare", huh? Must admit, I'd been primarily looking forward to this as an episode to get past so we could have "The Benders" (since Channel fucking Ten is determined to take as bloody long about it as possible) but there was much to recommend itself to our senses, and a hefty helping of mirth was had in Chez Dee tonight, as I shall now sing...
Nightmare
For a great deal of the non-Winchester prologue, the Male and I were talking about surefire ways to get yourself into the last four remaining houseguests on Big Brother. The SHAME.
Sam: *wakes up, sits up, looks around*
Me: OK, lay off the cheese.
The Male: Where am I? Who am I? Who're you?
Me: Why am I clutching a policeman's helmet?
Sam: Dean. Dean. *shakes his arm*
Dean: *wakes up*
Me: Five more minutes, Mom!
Lamps: *change into headlights*
The Male: WHOA! Cinematic method!
Dean: *skepticises all over Sam*
The Male: Y'know, I would've thought that Dean would give more credit to Sam's dreams. I mean, one of them has checked out already, surely this is no weirder than any other way they find their jobs. In fact, it's a rock-solid lead.
Me: It's still the middle of the night. I'd get grumpy and recalcitrant.
The Male: You'd still be asleep. God forbid I ever have a dream vision of impending doom. It'd take me a week to get you out of bed.
Me: FIVE MORE MINUTES, MUM!
Also, Sam has a "serious cop voice". This causes me giggles.
Boys: *arrive at the crimescene*
Corpse: *is body-bagged*
My phone: *beeps*
girloftheq: He should be bright pink! Do some research, people!
Me: *cackle*
Dean: *looks over at Sam*
Me: OK, so I owe you five bucks.
Sam: *watches crimescene, looks antsier and antsier until he storms off*
The Male: My hair is pissing me off so much I'm going to go and punch something.
Dean: We got here as fast as we could.
Sam: Not fast enough.
Me: Are you talking shit about the car, dude? Because we can take this outside.
Dean: Maybe there's nothing supernatural going on at all.
The Male: On this show? Do you even know what it's called?
Sam: Dean, you saw them, they're devastated. They're not gonna want to talk to us.
The Male: And this differs from every other incident you've worked how?
Dean: But I think I know who they would talk to.
Sam: Who?
The Male: Mom? But she's dead!
Me: But you'd look great in a wig, Sammy!
Dean: I'm Father Simmons, this is Father Frehley.
The Male: Oh GOD.
Me: Not quite. But he gave rock and roll to you.
The Male: Hang on. Priests at a SUICIDE?
Me: A caring gesture on the church's behalf to make up for the fact that we can't bury the guy in consecrated ground.
(Mrs Miller: *has a really familiar voice*
Me: *dashes off in commercial break to find out who she is*
Me: It's one of Sabrina the teenage witch's aunts!
The Male: You're one of Sabrina the teenage witch's aunts!)
Dean: So Mrs Miller, did your husband have a history--
The Male: Of killing himself?
Me: Did it all the time.
The Male: Every time we turn around, whoops! he's hanged himself again!
Sam: I'm so sorry you had to find him like that.
Mrs M: Actually, our son, Max...
Us: MAX!
The Male: I win at everything!
This is, of course, a reference to " Home", in which there was the following exchange:Mary: Dean. *She smiles and moves past Dean, towards--
The Male: Max.
Me: Where did Max come from?
The Male: That's his question. And then Dean goes, "Shit. Mom! What'd you have to tell him that for?" And then he has to explain about the baby dying and how they got a good genetic sample first and made a clone.
Me: Sam is actually spelt "Xam".
The Male: Because Dean needed someone to throw the good lines at.
So Dean might not be freaked out by anything, but the Male's a little bothered by his own precognitive skillz. I believe he has come to the conclusion that so long as he's using his powers for good (read: Puns and Humour) then it's all fine.
Dean: *toddles upstairs and whips out his--*
The Male: Pants-o-meter?
Me: Nope. What the fuck IS that thing?
The Male: Sonic screwdriver?
Me: More like a rave device. He'd be a hit at dance parties.
Incidentally, somehow his wristwear with the priest get-up is extra-special nngh-inducing.
Dean: *cleans every gun he owns*
Me: *expires, surprising no one*
The Male: Note the absence of bullets.
Me: Yeah, that's because Dean's SMRT.
(Note that this is in relation to a recent piece of Australian news. A soldierboy in Iraq gets shot in the temple cleaning his gun. There are layers and layers of stupid and obfuscation on this one, but that's the gist.)
Dean: You OK?
Sam: Yeah.
Dean: If you're going to hurl, I'll pull the car over, because the upholstery...
Me: OMGHEART!
The Male: You and that car, man.
Me: No, me and Dean's gruff big brotherliness omg.
The Male: Whatever.
Sam: Dean, I'm scared, man.
Me: OMG! *diez*
And Dean all gruff and face-twisty and omg. OMG!
Dean: We face the unexplainable every single day; this is just another thing.
Sam: No. It's never been US. It's never been in the family like this.
Me: Except for that thing with your mother on the ceiling. And your girlfriend.
The Male: They're not his family; he's a clone, remember?
Me: No, MAX is the clone. Oh, this is getting stupid.
Sam: Tell me the truth, you can't tell me this doesn't freak you out.
Dean: *long pause* This doesn't freak me out.
And I'm all... I don't even know. I could probably meta for a whole page on this and still be no closer to a declaration of intent or interpretation or... oh MAN. Because he means it, but he's still so troubled for Sam. It's just fucking beautiful.
Sam: Hey Roger!
Roger: What are you guys, missionaries? Leave me alone!
Sam: Please!
Dean: *revs and parks with gay abandon*
Me: Wow. That's the most disrespect Dean has ever shown for his car.
The Male: Apart from taking on the monster truck from hell.
Me: Nah, that was just a pissing contest.
Dean: *checks both ways, and then kicks the shit out of the gate*
Me: I LOVE HIS RIGHT BOOT!
And his climbing technique. And his grim capability in the face of horrific blood. And his common sense in wiping off the fingerprints. And just, y'know, his DEANNESS omglove.
Sam: Now I know what we have in common. Both our families are cursed.
Dean: *pulls a face* Our family's not cursed. We just... had our dark spots.
Sam: Our dark spots are pretty dark.
Dean: You're dark.
The Male: *cackles*
Me: OK, you? Are not allowed to write Dean's dialogue any more.
The Male: Now say GIMME SOME SUGAR, BABY.
I swear, the look Sam gets when he's being hit in the head with the future like a chunk of 4x2? Ice-cream headache. The future, apparently, is cold.
But brotherly hugginess is obviously awesome.
World: *goes crazy in Sam-cam*
Me: He's gonna drop.
The Male: The bigger they are, the harder they fall.
Me: Catch the swooning maiden, Dean!
In vision-land, Mrs M is chopping celery with a big knife.
The Male: Hello murder weapon!
Me: Why is she cooking? She has her own weight in casseroles home-delivered!
Sam: We're not going to kill Max.
Me: Dude, you spoil all my fun. ALWAYS.
Dean: What, are we just going to hand him over to the cops and say, "Lock him up, officer, he kills with the power of his MIND."
Us: *MIRTH!*
Max: You didn't stop them, not once--
Door: *gives in to the power of Dean's right boot*
The Male: Avon calling!
Me: Whatever happened to knocking?
Sam: I'm having visions, Max. About you.
Max: You're crazy.
Me: Hey, don't you talk shit about my baby brother! No one calls him crazy but me!
Max: *drops big bomb about his mother dying on the ceiling on fire*
The Male: Well, bugger me senseless!
Me: That's a bad thing to say to a telekinetic power.
The Male: *loses it* Word of God!
Sam: The same thing killed out mothers.
Me: Maybe we're related!
I could've sworn Sam said something about "financiers". But after two minutes of "WTF?money?" I realised that no, it was "find answers". DICTION, PADALECKI!
Max: No. What they did to me...
The Male: ...was monstrous. And it created a monster. For fuck's sake.
Sam: *flies into the closet*
The Male: He is so shit at hide and seek.
Me: Come out of the closet!
Door: *opens by itself to admit Max*
Me: Two walk in, one walks out; guess we know how that went. Take him down, Dean.
Dean: *gets ballisticked*
Us: WHOA.
Me: My turn next!
Dean: *stalks towards Max with intent*
Max: *leaves the gun in midair*
The Male: Well, that's a new trick.
Dean: *is cactus*
Sam: *is having visions in the closet*
Me: SAM SMASH! Get your ire on, baybee.
Sam: *bursts in at the opportune moment* No don't, don't, please.
Me: Because if you, I will go psycho crazy and that would be bad.
Max: *blows his own brains out*
Me: Well shit. Like Sam didn't have enough angst to be going on with.
Sam: There's something else too.
Dean: Oh geez what?
Sam: When Max locked me in that closet with that big cabinet against the door... I moved it.
Dean: Got a little more upper body strength than I gave you credit for.
Sam: No, man, I moved it. Like...Max.
Dean: Oh. Right.
Sam: Yeah.
Dean: *picks up teaspoon* Bend this.
There is no part of that exchange that is not awesome, and I got to re-enact the entire thing because the Male got a phone call and left the room to take it.
Though I couldn't possible convey Dean's little "huh" face, which is possibly the cutest thing in the world and makes me giggle a great deal.
Dean: As long as I'm around, nothing bad is going to happen to you.
Me: *dies of n'aww and giggles and IRONY because we know what's coming next week, don't we? bwahaha*
Dean: Now then. I know what we need to do about your premonitions. I know where we have to go.
Sam: Where?
Dean: Vegas.
And then he GRINS and everything saintsomeone said about the depantings effect of that grin is really quite accurate, you know.
But then the little look. When Sam's back is turned and Dean's just all *worries* and OMG. O.M.G. *squishes*
So that was kinda a fun episode, but not really hitting any great highs or lows. Bring on the Sam in a cage, anyway!
Also, the Male referred to them as "Padalackles" and I wanna know why the hell that hasn't been used in fandom yet. Apart from the fact that it sounds like a sort of shellfish.