Supernatural: Shadow

Boy’s Town (Oh, Wait, That’s A Different Movie)
by Sylvia Bond
Supernatural Episode Review, Season One – Episode Sixteen
“Shadow”

When you see a girl walking down a mostly deserted street at night, you know she’s a goner. When she takes a shortcut through a filthy alley, plus she’s got her Walkman stuffed in her ears, you know she kind of deserves what she’s going to get. At least I think so. The chick in the opening teaser of this ep might as well have been wearing a Red Shirt, or a “Come and Get It” sign, because she was history before the first commercial break. But who cares about her. All she’s there to do is to establish the MOW, which is either a demon, or a daeva, or a shadow killer thing. Perhaps all three. There’s blood on the walls, missing body parts, and more skulking around the under-lit streets of Chicago. Enter the boys. Because that’s what it’s really all about, isn’t it?

Straight up, people really like this episode, they rave about it, above and beyond a whole bunch of others. Sometimes, when I’ve not seen it in a while, I forget why, because, I always think, isn’t that the one where Meg comes back and she traps the boys in a warehouse? Oh, no, no, no my dear. It’s more than that. You too can revel in the wonderfulness of Winchestery angst, elegant blood trailing down beautiful faces, and more whumpage than you’d care to imagine on an ordinary day. In an ordinary world. But this is not an ordinary world. This world is peopled by Sam, Dean, and The Dad. Not to spoil it for you, but he’s in this ep too, bringing with him all those marvelous things that he brings, that wonderful burry voice, his dark gaze, and those pillowy lips of his.

Back to the boys. (Though it’s hard to draw myself away from thoughts about The Dad. He swims in my dreams, that one.) Sam and Dean are alerted by the bloody death of the chick in the teaser. They rent (or buy) uniforms to pose as guys working for a security company. The one the dead chick used, see. The über cuteness starts right away, plus we get some canonical factoids. Dean thinks the uniforms are dorky, because well, The Dad never had to resort to using one. (First fact.) AND they’re expensive. Sam, he just smiles and nods, and ignores Dean, who’s complaining because he can. Then Dean starts in about the play Sam was in, “Our Town,” which was “good,” according to Dean, and in which Sam was “cute.” (Second fact, that Dean actually took the time to go see Sam in his school play.) And, seeing as how the Winchesters moved pillar to post all the time, it’s interesting to note that not only were they in one place long enough for Sam to a) try out, and b) memorize his lines, but also c) The Dad allowed Sam to participate in something so high profile. I’ll bet Sam even had his name listed along with all the other cast members in the local paper. Did The Dad keep a clipping in that journal of his? Maybe. Plus, what’s totally left out, is which part did Sam play?

The most obvious answer is George Gibbs. However, since Show tends to take the less obvious route, I put my vote in for Simon Stimson, the town organist and drunkard who commits suicide. Not only is this role the antithesis of Sam’s character, Simon has very few lines, so that would make it easier for Sam to participate in the play. Also, the theme of the play, or one of them anyway, is the fear of letting go of childhood in order to grow up. The transition is not always easy, and I imagine, in a family like the Winchesters, is particularly difficult. Especially if you were Sam, and protected for so many years, and people continue to insist that you don’t know your own mind. This is a problem that confronts Sam in many episodes, so I don’t think it’s a coincidence that this particular play is mentioned. Or, on the other hand, I could be talking out of the side of my head and the real reason the play is mentioned is because it is one of the most oft-produced plays in American history, and so would be familiar to most viewers. (Except those living in caves.)

For a less erudite observation about Sam, let’s look at his hair in this ep. Yeah, he’s got perfect Samhair all the way through. It flips over his ears, hangs in his eyes, and straggles down the side of his face. It’s like the guy doesn’t even own a comb, let alone remember to use it. When he towel dries his hair, he must really do a number on it. Plus those bangs, they make him look seventeen at most, and I’m no cradle robber, but he’s so sweet this way, so very, very sweet. Not to forget Dean, of course, my own darling boy. When I think of this episode in terms of Dean, I think of him laughing and cocky. I think of him smiling. It’s not about hair or eyes, even, it’s about that smile. (Smiling as he hands out sex tips to his littler brother, like “don’t bite her too hard,” or makes observations about Sammy’s sexual preferences, as in, “Oh, Sammy likes the bad girls.”) And the energy with which he pursues every little detail. For example, when they go into the dead chick’s apartment, Dean stars laying out tape to see what pattern the blood stains on the carpet reveal. Now, Sam could just as easily have thought of this as Dean, so it’s not about comparing the smarts between the two of them. It’s my pure pleasure watching Dean figure this out. Plus, he looks all sexy on his hands and knees like that, frowning in concentration.

Next, we go to a pool hall. Dean is busy chatting up a barmaid, while Sam, sweetly bookish, is buried in The Dad’s journal. Two things occur to me while I watch Dean swallow back one last shot before heading over to his brother. One, the different methods the two brothers use to gather information. Dean is leaning on his elbows, drinking, making it casual. Sam is in the book, in the paper, in the list of facts. Eyes down, ignoring the ruckus around him. Which brings me to thing two, and that is to question, politely, why is it that the brothers so often dither in a bar? A loud bar, with pool tables, and dartboards, and people swilling beer and forgetting to use their indoor voices? I think it’s because the setting lends atmosphere to the boys’ conversation, giving us a sense of grit and street and unstructured hours. It gets even more fun as Sam assures Dean that this is their sort of gig, because I love it when they use that word. They don’t use it so much anymore and I miss it. Then Dean, bristling with pheromones, lets Sam know that yeah, he got the barmaid’s number. Sam is not surprised. Moreover, Sam, while showing that face (commonly referred to in fan circles as Sam’s bitchface), doesn’t really disapprove. I mean, does he? When it makes Dean so happy? I think not.

Sam spots someone he knows, and it turns out to be Meg. Oh, Meg, you who are so very wonderful, thank you for showing up! Now I know this ep is going to be interesting. Meg, as you may or may not recall, ran into our very own Sam on a road somewhere in Indiana. The two of them connected, and they planned to go to California together. Alas, a last minute phone call to Dean that goes unanswered takes Sam back into the circle of his brother’s arms, so to speak, leaving a disappointed Meg to continue on her own. Ah-ha! Did you spot the hidden connection here? Meg, when we last saw her, was slicing some guy’s throat open (creepy van guy, according to Sam), so that she could communicate through a goblet of blood.

[nms:CW Supernatural,2,0]

This is not a nice chick. But she’s a great character, and frankly a perfect foil for the boys. She’s clever and creepy and devoted, in her own way, to a cause, and what might be more important, she doesn’t seem to feel that the boys are idiots. Foolish, perhaps, but not stupid. And she looks like a little Dutch boy or something, her short blonde hair such a contrast to the usual flowing locks of female characters on this show, that I expect her to start breaking out the street weed and techno pop at any minute.

And I love listening to her talk, she tends to enunciate those consonants that other people don’t. So, like when, Sam is talking to her and up comes Dean, coughing to announce his presence and to ask to be introduced, she says, “Dude, cover your mouth.” But it comes out like, “Dute, cover you-er mout-the.” I don’t know if it’s an affectation or not, but being a linguistics major I simply cannot take my eyes off her when she’s talking. Which is a shame, because Dean’s making all kinds of fun faces as she starts laying into him on account of what Sam told her as they waited at the bus stop together. He’s used to all the girls falling at his feet, and this one doesn’t. She’s too busy calling him on the carpet for treating his brother like a piece of luggage (“luck-ach”), and basically forcing Sam to accompany him everywhere. Dean marches off for more drinks, leaving Sam and Meg to chat. Meg promises Sam that if he calls her, she’ll show him a hell of a time. Yeah, I got the irony the first time. (Or maybe it was the second.) Anyway, watch Meg talk, it’s a riot, especially when she says words that end in “d.” (“Did” becomes “dit,” “conquered” becomes “kon-kirt, and “old” becomes “olt.”)

Outside, it gets good, and I mean good. Dean is incensed at Sam, asking, “Dude, were you bitching about me to some girl?” For Dean, it’s not what Sam said about the luggage, it’s the fact that he said anything at all. This particular complaint feels incredibly girly to me, because usually it’s one of your girlfriends who will say, “Oh, I can’t believe you told her that about me!” when in fact what she really wants to know is what ELSE you said about her. This is how girls often exchange information, through a third party. It maintains lines of communication, and also includes everyone. Which is how girls talk. So to hear Dean working this line, it’s almost like he asking, “What ELSE did you say about me?” Because what he really wants to know is, “Did you tell her I was your favorite brother?”

Don’t worry, Dean, you’re Sam’s only brother, and he loves you very much.)

The boys work up a plan. Dean’s going to do research, and Sam’s going to keep his eye on the hot chick. A task that Dean gives Sam no end of hell for. He tells Sam to make his big brain do the thinking for his little brain, and then calls him a pervert. It’s said with love, of course, because Dean would like nothing more than to get Sam laid. A little bit later, as Sam is watching outside Meg’s window, a complete stranger also calls Sam a pervert, so I’m wondering why they can’t both be right.

What’s fun though, is the little phone call, where Dean has to admit that his facts about the MOW actually come from a quick phone call to The Dad’s friend Caleb. Making me wonder, are we actually meant to believe that a) Dean never read a book, and that b) he’s unable to look things up on the Internet by himself? I think not. Show must have done this for laughs, or, more sophisticatedly, to demonstrate the difference between Sam and Dean. Both of whom are cute, but how would the scene have gone differently if Dean had been the one watching the hot chick’s house, and Sam had been working the research angle? It wouldn’t exactly have felt like Bizzaro World, now, would it.

Sam on his own likes to get into trouble, reminding me of a seven year old in his Sunday best, who’s been enjoined countless times to stay NEAT until after lunch. Sam never can quite manage it, though I’m sure he feels he’s a big enough boy to make his own decisions and chart his own course. (Dean and The Dad might have something different to say about this, especially so early in the game.) Determinedly independent, Sam follows Meg to a warehouse. I’d like to say THE warehouse, because really, it’s the same warehouse that’s in every single version of every buddy cop show you’ve ever seen. Rather like the dumb, spinning fan on the NSEA Protector, it’s inevitably there and available, but unlike the fan, the warehouse has a purpose. It’s secluded, quiet, deserted, and more importantly, messy. Messy places don’t show blood as easily as clean places.

Besides, this warehouse has an elevator shaft designed like monkey bars. So Sam, Sunday best or no Sunday best, decides to climb it. I guess, oh, six or seven floors, grunting manfully the entire way, and shaking as he gets to the final floor. There he watches Meg as she talks to the goblet of blood again. I can’t imagine that she doesn’t notice he’s there, seeing as she’s a bad guy and has powers and stuff. She doesn’t though, marching past his precarious perch in the monkey bar elevator shaft, strutting back to her little apartment with the wide-open curtains.

After Sam checks out the altar, he goes back to the grotty room he’s sharing with Dean. It looks to me more like a bedsit in a rooming house than a motel, on account of the urban setting right outside the window. A place quite near skid row, perhaps, with ambulances and police sirens, gunfire and shouting, at all hours of the day and night. It suits them. Or rather, it suits me that they are there. Anyway, Sam comes in, and he and Dean say at the same time, “Dude, I gotta talk to you!” This is pure fun, as is seeing Dean in his favorite purple check flannel shirt, you remember, the one he bought at the Salvation Army for fifty cents? (I’m glad to see that he’s kept it neat.) Sam has brought in all the weapons the boys own, just to be on the safe side, and they’re still new to the demon thing, that they seem a little nervous s they get ready. Oh, yeah, and sexy too, clicking all that metal and making those “I’m a man loading my gun” faces, which never fails to get to me.

So okay, the gun loading is hot, the boys are hotter, but you know what the real purpose of this scene is? It’s so the boys can have a conversation. And not just any conversation, no. Ask any True Fan, this is a conversation they can probably recite by heart. If we have to give it a name, I like to call it The Dresser Scene. Sam is blathering. I think it’s because still green behind the ears, and he’s going on about how wouldn’t it be cool if this all ended tonight? If they found The Thing That Killed The Mom? Yeah, Sam’s got his priorities. He’d sleep for a month, and then he’d leave all this behind him and go back to school. When the war is over, Dean. When the war is over. (Oh, wait, that’s Gone With The Wind.)

Dean snaps out that it won’t be over, because after they get The Thing That Killed The Mom, there’ll always be something more to hunt. It’s a perfect 180 degrees from Sam, providing me with an opportunity to see exactly how far apart the boys are. Sam replies, well, of course it’ll be over, and we can leave all this craziness behind us. Then Dean, he sort of twitches and turns away, holding onto the dresser (hence the name of this scene), as if standing upright were too much for him to bear. (Ackles does a great job acting out of the back of his head, the sad slant to his shoulders telling us everything we need to know about Dean’s state of mind.)

Sam asks him what’s the problem, dude. And then? Dean launches into it. Oh, it’s sad, so, so sad. And when someone asks me what the most poignant scene in season one was, I tell them about this one, and then, as they moan, they say, “Yeah.” With that tone that sommeliers use to talk about a 1787 Chateau Lafite, or stamp collectors use when discussing the Graf Zepplin, with reverence and awe and a kind of open-mouthed desire to see more of its ilk.

Dean begins by explaining that grabbing Sam out of Standford wasn’t only, as Sam postulates, on account of the fact that Dean wanted to find The Dad and The Thing That Killed The Mom. He drags Sam with him everywhere (yes, like luggage, a little), because he NEEDS Sam to be there. He can’t do it without Sam, and doesn’t want to. (Oh, wait, that’s a different episode.) The way he spills his guts, it just gets to me, because I know he doesn’t do it very often. But his wish to have things back the way they were is even sadder than it might ordinarily be for someone else yearning for the past. And that is because Dean’s past isn’t happy. He did not have what we might commonly refer to as a happy childhood, because in spite of The Dad’s best (and worst) efforts, being dragged pillar to post, trained as a young warrior from the age of four, being exposed to the killing and violence, and being quite inured to bedsits in the bad part of town, well, it just can’t have been any fun. Yet, Dean wants to go back to this. He wants them to be a family again, and this, this history of his, mangled and dark, is his idea of a family. It’s the only one he’s ever known. And that’s just. Well, it’s just tragic, that’s what it is.

Even worse, is Sam’s clarification where he says, “Things will never be the way they were before.” Dean tells him, “They could be.” You know, on account of all those misty, water colored memories. (Oh, wait, that’s The Way We Were.) Here, he flat out breaks Dean’s heart. He just does. Even without his final bon mot: “You’re just going to have to let me go my own way.” Wow. Talk about getting someone while they are down. But is Sam just being mean? Or is it right that he asserts his independence at that cost of his brother’s broken heart?

After that, somehow Dean manages to collect himself, and he and Sam pay a visit to the monkey bar elevator shaft at The Warehouse. There, they manfully grunt and sweat and climb, and reach the top, only to have Meg spot them, and taunt them, and, finally, serve them up an unhealthy dose of whumpage. The whumpage is delivered as though it were an installment of Chinese shadow theater, where the blackness that is the MOW throws the handsome silhouettes of Sam and Dean across the room. Then she ties them up.

I have to hand it to her now, so seldom has any bad guy done it as well, or to such fun effect. Usually we get one brother tied up and the other rescuing him. Here, we get two for the price of one. (Lucky? Coincidence? I think not. The prop guy in charge of ropes? He told the scriptwriters, put these in, she wants both ropes in there. He’s in love with me, you see.) Both boys are artfully bleeding, thanks to the keen eye of the Blood Artist, who understands both composition and balance, because while they are mirror images of each other tied up, the Blood Artist knows enough about their characters to place the blood splatters correctly. For example, Dean bleeds from wounds in his forehead, so the blood can ooze down his beautiful cheekbones. Sam, on the other hand, bleeds from his mouth and nose, so the blood can drip from his manly chin. (Okay, come on. It’s not just me noticing these things, is it? Is it?)

Then she starts tormenting them by letting them know that they are the trap by which The Dad will be captured. She flits from one boy to the other and then back again, making me uncomfortable as she straddles Sam’s lap to chew on his ear. (Nothing no True Fan hasn’t thought of before now, but not when he’s unwilling like this. Tied up is fine, but unwilling? No.) Unbeknownst to her, the boys are doing a fine job of tag teaming her, so just as she thinks it’s Sam distracting her so Dean can cut his way out, it’s Sam who does a mighty forehead slam and sends her tumbling on her ass. Then he mightily overturns the black altar, at which point the MOW, now freed from her control, sends Meg pitching out the window to land on the sidewalk many floors below.

The boys return to their squat, to find that there is an intruder inside. The dark profile of the intruder reminds me uncomfortably of the intruder in The Pilot, with its upturned collar and slow pivot towards the boys. But it’s not the YED. It’s The Dad. Oh, man. Take me to bed, or loose me forever. (Oh, wait, that’s Top Gun.) He’s grave and still and in his eyes, the bright light of love shines. (Forgive me if I wax all poetic, and maybe take it too far, but it’s The Dad you see, and I think I’m in love with him.) Anyway, we get a nice long, look, as the camera pans back, of Dean striding manfully towards The Dad, arms wide open (Oh wait, that’s the guy from Creed), and the two men embrace, like you always knew they would. It’s a true manhug, father and son. No words are exchanged, just this heavenly manhug.

And standing by, almost ignored? Is Sammy. He’s bleeding from the mouth and nose, and The Dad goes, “Hi, Sam.” And sort smiles at him. And I’m like, WHAT? NO hug? It’s just not fair, and it’s sad, too, because I know all about the years of disconnect between Sam and The Dad. Dean starts to explain what went wrong, blah, blah, blah, and then apologizes in a very small voice. Then The Dad turns to Sam, acknowledges the fight, and Sam falls into The Dad’s arms, a perfect example of the prodigal son, because correct me if I’m wrong, but The Dad seems more worked up about this hug with Sam than he was about the hug with Dean. It’s the lost sheep that you find that you treasure more, they say. Yeah, check it. The Dad’s got a mantear. Maybe more than one.

While the Winchester boys (together again, yeah!) are talking, they are being stalked by the MOW, who bursts in and starts slashing up the place. This scene happens so fast, it’s hard to keep track. But it’s vicious and mean, and there’s splatters of blood everywhere. (Hurray for disappearing scars!) The Dad gets the worst of it, I think, screaming that deep-belly scream he’s got. I guess he knows that it’s not unmanly to scream, if it keeps you from crying like a seven year old. Which is what I’d be doing, were I in his place.

[nms:CW Supernatural,2,1]

Luckily, he’s got a son with a ginormous brain, bigger than Encyclopedia Brown’s I’ll bet, and Sam figures that if the MOW is a shadow creature, then bright light can keep it at bay. He pulls out a flare and breaks it open, shattering the shadowthing to pieces. Then they all grab onto each other and tumble out of the bedsit, and down to the cold, damp street. Bleeding artfully. I’d like to think that Sam’s figuring out how to beat the darkness (by using light), isn’t an accident on Show’s part. The idea that Sam is, perhaps, doomed to go dark side, to turn into the evil that he hunts, is not a new one. The fact that he can summon the light, so to speak, to defeat the darkness, could be, one thinks (one hopes), a foreshadowing of how Sam is not only going to avoid going darkside, but also save mankind, and more importantly, save his brother.

But lo, there’s more angst in the street. Sam says they have to hurry, but it’s Dean who stops him. The Dad, you see, is more vulnerable with his boys than on his own. And though it KILLS Dean (and kills me too, to watch it) he says they have to let The Dad go. The Dad, who they’ve been searching for for ever so long. It’s like a sad ending to an even sadder fairy tale. It’s bad enough that they’re all bleeding (yes, artfully), they’re all so worked up, I kept thinking that The Dad was going to ask Sam to restring his guitar while he was gone. (Oh, wait, that’s The Goodbye Girl.)

Sam is falling apart, and Dean’s keeping himself together by force of will. The Dad seems a little more in control, as in, Yes, I’m The Dad, and my job is to be manful, and you have to let me go. Which, coincidentally, was exactly what Sam was asking of Dean earlier. None of them want this separation, but it has to be done. Anyway, just try not reaching for the Kleenex as Sam pats The Dad on the shoulder, struggling manfully to be manful about all of this. Personally, I lost it, just lost it, right then and there. Thankfully the ep was over at that point, snapping to black, because I don’t think I could have taken much more. Except that I serve myself up a dose of some heavenly angst by watching this ep every once in a while, not because I’m a glutton for punishment, but because I’m a glutton for these boys. And The Dad.

Sylvia Bond is a ten-year technical writing veteran with too many degrees under her belt to count. She lives in Colorado, but does not ski, preferring instead to spend her money and time at the annual Great American Beer Festival, taking road trips across the United States, and reading historical fiction from the comfort of her fluffy green arm chair. She has been involved in fandom since 1993 and been writing fanfic since approximately 1993. What she finds most amazing about fandom (besides the open heartedness of fans and the sheer amount of creativity) is how visible fandom has become. “In my day,” she says, “we had to hide behind P.O. boxes to get fanfic. But nowadays, people wear t-shirts that shout their affiliation and share their shiny toys on the internet.” It’s a wonderful world.

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