Supernatural: Death Takes a Holiday

Vacation’s All I Ever Wanted
by Sylvia Bond
Supernatural Episode Review – Season 4, Episode 15
“Death Takes a Holiday”

Let’s start with what’s most important about this ep and that is the trim, lean length of Sam’s physique. I’m not kidding. I’ve got only the haziest of recollections as to when I’ve last seen something so fine. I’m sure, really, quite, quite sure, that it has been ever thus, this fineness of Sam’s. However, a recent fortunate set of events, perhaps the Wardrobe Mistress getting the autonomy to make her own decisions about what Sam is to wear, plus the application by someone wise of the old adage “waste not, want not,” and voila, we see what Sam is made of underneath his clothes. The boy is wearing a pair of sassy jeans and a dark grey hoodie that were, at some point, shrunk in the wash or something, because they reveal a set of pecs and arms so curved and defined, and a backside so marble tight, every spare ounce carved away, giving Sam the air of a trimaran tugging at the moorings of gravity, ready to go at a moment’s notice. Or, to put it more bluntly, in the words of Austen Power’s Goldmember, Sam struts around in a body that’s “toight like a toiger.” 

Not that Dean stands in anyone’s shadow. Like, ever. Somebody was messing with the lighting or something, casting Dean in attractive fractal patterns, because I couldn’t stop staring. At his skin, mostly, which although covers all of him, only shows from the wrists down and the neck up. Sad, really, because what we see is just the tip of the iceberg here, and I’ve no doubt that the rest of it is just as silky and glowy as his face. And he’s wearing at least two shades of green, which always looks nice on him, although, truth be told, he’s wearing three layers too many. I refuse to apologize for my shallowness.

About the ep itself, it was so good, I’d be here all week trying to tell you what was good, so I’ll try to point out what stuck in my head long after I’d stopped watching. Besides the beauty of the boys (see above), there wasn’t a single wasted scene. Not one. At no point did I check the clock, or bemoan the fact that a secondary character had more screen time than they ought to have had. And never did I want to throw anything or have an urge to yell at the TV. The majority of this episode is about Sam and Dean. Seriously. It felt so good to watch it, like slipping on a favorite pair of jeans that are very forgiving about that extra slice of pizza. Or, to be in keeping, picked up after the hiatus like we’d never been gone, and never gave me the feeling that one or the other brother was being left out. (Which, as you may know, I’ve complained long and loud about.)

I liked the setup, oh, yes, I did. Sam and Dean go to a little town where people have stopped dying. They suspect demon deals and then figure out that the local reaper has gone missing. As they stand in the graveyard, raising the ghost of the last person to die (a little boy), the ep takes a very strange turn as Alistair shows up and commandeers the plot. It’s not, as it turns out, about the little boy at all, but about how Alistair is breaking another seal by capturing not one but two reapers, and if he can “reap” them, he can break the seal and the world will be one step closer to destruction. Which makes it exactly like one of those brilliant fan fictions where the writer takes you down one path, only to cleverly snatch you down another, less trodden, more complicated one, a story within a story and very satisfying to watch. 

Favorite scene, hands down, was the opening scene. Dean and Sam are in a diner. It could be any diner anywhere in the country, but it is, in essence, their diner, for it is the same diner they always go to: a slightly worn, of questionable health code, non-chain diner. The kind of real place you hope to find on your travels along the blue lines, an out-of-the-way discovery that will have the best biscuits and gravy your mouth has ever had the pleasure to experience, the fluffiest flapjacks with plenty of butter and fake maple syrup (or Kayro, if you prefer), and coffee perky enough to rattle the bones in your toes and keep you flying down the highway for miles and miles. (I love diners and eating breakfast at them, can you tell?) 

Alas, Dean and Sam arrived too late for breakfast and must suffer through enormous cheeseburgers and French fries done, one hopes, in real lard rather than nasty corn oil. Dean is chowing down, and here’s where it gets interesting. Sam decides that they’ve found a gig and off they must fly. He instructs Dean to get his food to go, Dean who is only halfway through his cheeseburger. Dean who looks up at Sam and, defiantly, keeps eating. Thus demonstrating how edges of the status quo, which have been shifting for quite some time, come together with the impact of two tectonic plates colliding. For ages it has been that the older brother that called the shots. In a recent ep, however, Sam blurted out that he knows he’s the stronger, faster, better hunter, the wounds from which Dean still has not healed, no matter how forcefully he says, “We’re good.” 

We’re not good. We’re so not good, it’s hard to watch. It doesn’t matter that in times past either brother has leapt up and instructed the other one to shake his tail feathers because there were people to be saved and things to be hunted. Most often this was Dean, if not by right, then by habit and attitude, but the reverse was also true, as Dean would follow Sam if Sam was insistent enough. Here, however, still stinging from the “better, smarter, stronger,” and the “you’re holding me back” remarks, the tides have turned, and an open wound is washed with acid. 

Dean, of course, knows that Sam is within his rights, and is probably certain that they need to get cracking before the weirdness in Greybull, Wyoming spirals out of control. But the cheeseburger looks like it turns to bitter ash in his mouth even as he makes Sam wait to make his point. You’re not the boss of me, his eyes seem to say, but the fact that he’s in this position is the worst taste of all. Ackles plays the part of the ousted older sibling so well, with deftness and restraint, it’s rather like watching a combinatorist do a third grader’s math homework. I mean, I know Ackles works at it just like anybody else, but he makes it look easy. (And my opinion is not swayed by the fact that he is very easy on the eyes, nope, nope, nope.)

The motel room, in which the boys dither deliciously about the gig, is done in shades of green as well, with the nice added touch of, is that tin siding? Like the kind of tin you sometimes find in old barroom ceilings? Cool. Anyway, the motel room is ratty and perfect, so strange and wonderful, I know you’ll think I’m bonkers, but I so wanted to check in for a few night’s stay. There was even a quick shout out during the dither to one of my favorite shows of ALL time, and that is Starsky & Hutch. When Sam asks him a question, Dean says, “Last time I checked, Huggy Bear ain’t available.” 

The fact that neither brother is old enough to have seen S &H in its original run means that they caught it during re-runs. That, in fact, they might have made a point of watching it, wherever they found themselves. Maybe Sam even downloaded eps for Dean to watch after he came back from Hell, hoping to cheer Dean up with some good old fashioned, 70s era cop chase scenes. Besides, I can easily imagine that Dean harbors a secret affection for a particular 1974 Gran Torino that carries the nickname (given to it by Merle the Earl) of the Striped Tomato. I’d like to think that the shout out was delivered to me personally, but that would require an ego bigger than mine. 

The boys go to the cemetery to raise the Little Ghost Boy (LGB). In this scene, it is very cold. Cold enough for the boys to walk across the frost bitten ground wearing real coats and gloves, of all things, and looking sweet and bundled and well prepared as Boy Scouts. I know that the reality of it is the vagaries of an outdoor film shoot, where you can’t control the weather, but I appreciate the fact that Show (production team and boys, both) didn’t decide the situation was too harsh and took the whole thing indoors to film, but instead decided to tough it out to give the scene a nice touch of verisimilitude. For surely the boys don’t always raise the dead in sunshine and nice weather, eh? Besides, I liked watching Dean blow faux smoke rings with his misted breath.

This is when Alistair shows up, with his Marlon Brando accent, and his acerbic corn farmer face. There is the Tossing of the Dean and the Pissing Off of the Sam (accompanied by some marvelously tension-filled quivering violin sounds), who can’t be pushed by Alistair and in fact, shows Alistair the way out. I’ve come to discover that I love the way Dean’s mouth twists when he meets up with Alistair. Each and every time, it’s like he smells and tastes something very bad, and whether that’s because he’s getting a whiff of sulfur or because he’s remembering his own guilt, either way, his jaw comes forward and his eyes start to glitter. It’s wonderful. 

Back at the room, after a quick bit of self-applied first aid by Dean (which would have been better had Sam attended to it, but then, at least he offered aspirin), we have a fun little conversation that reveals the trouble afoot between Sam and Dean, namely the lack of trust. As Sam struts in toight like a toiger, he lies and tells Dean that he has no idea why Alistair left. Dean knows better and wants Sam not to treat him like an idiot. Strains of the problem that reared its ugly head in the diner are back and then some. It’s scenes like these that tell me that Show is paying attention to the guidelines it set up for itself, and the good part is that even if the boys are not getting along, Show is demonstrating this by  putting them in scenes t-o-g-e-t-h-e-r where their conflict comes through the dialog and, the way I see it (and hope for), produces enough tension to allude to the ever-present urge that each of them has to slam the other against the nearest motel room wall. Let it begin!

Next up, we get a visit from our favorite psychic, the blind Pamela, played very sassily by Traci Dinwiddie. I like the way she carries herself and the attitude in each hair toss. I think part of the reasons fans enjoy this character so much is that while she has an appreciation for all things Winchester, she never seems to forget that Sam belongs to Dean and Dean belongs to Sam, which any female guest star forgets to their peril. TO their PERIL. Just look at the bodies stacking up of the women who’ve tried. 

Poor Pamela. I’m sure the boys never meant it to be so bad for her, but they did the one thing she asked them never to do, and that is mix her up again with their angel and demon dance. As you may recall, Pamela is a sightless psychic who once held a séance that ended with her eyes on fire. Even if it was her own ambition that made her ignore any warnings, in the heat of the moment (and perhaps the excitement of holding Dean’s shoulder), I believe it was her own pride that caused her downfall. Now, although she’s happy to help out the boys (and is still an ardent admirer of Sam’s backside; good taste that woman!), their personal battles hold no charm for her. Still, it’s not enough to keep her from trying. 

She allows herself to get sucked in, and talked into performing a ritual that lets Sam and Dean to walk around as ghosts in order to contact the local reaper. Reapers, as you recall, can only be seen by the dead and the dying. Pamela, loyal as she is, stands guard over their attractively limp bodies while they do their thing, and is stabbed by one of Alistair’s goons. When he wakes up, I can understand Sam not calling 911, not wanting to get involve with the local Po-Po, but what gives? Even if Sam had been waiting for Dean to wake up, and even if he didn’t quite know what would happen when Death’s holiday was over, the second he saw, why didn’t he spring into action and try and stop the bleeding? Giving Pamela liquor would only thin the blood out and make it run faster, certainly it would be of no help in stopping the bleeding; but no, Sam, and then Dean, both sit there with their junk in their hands, so to speak, and watch her die. It was very strange.

That was my only problem with this ep because Sam and Dean spend a lot of time together, and any time they do that, I’m happy, but in this case they are trying to convince LGB (the last person to die in Greybull) to work with them. LGB is played by Alexander Gould, whose work I am familiar with, oddly, because he played David Collins in the never-publicly aired pilot ep in the 2004 attempt to resurrect Dark Shadows, which happens once every blue moon. Currently, Johnny Depp (who is a huge fan) is working on a project to bring the vampire-plagued village of Collinsport to life once again, and, from what I gather, it is his dream to play Barnabas Collins himself. Just sos you know, I’d buy tickets to see that! But, more importantly, who’s playing Willie Loomis? 

Anyway, back to Show. Sam and Dean are ghosts for a while, seeing the world through ghostly eyes, with Ackles and Padalecki being filmed through a pretty effective grey filter. They have to convince LGB to tell them where the reaper is hanging out. LGB doesn’t want to tell them, because he doesn’t want to go into the light, as it were, and he wants to stay and watch over his mom, who is grieving pretty hard. It is Sam who saves the day here, in my second favorite scene of this ep. Sam who volunteers to lie to the LGB. I never worried for a second that Sam could pull it off, Sam is a lying liar who lies, he is the stealth bomber of liars. Still, it was fun to watch him angsting over lying to a little kid who was already dead and who should have moved on from this earthly plane already. The lie itself won’t hurt anything that’s not already been hurt, but to Sam, it’s cause for concern. For Padalecki, it’s a chance to dig his hands into a tightly shot scene, and my opportunity to watch the emotions flicker across his face as they push up from his soul. (Not to mention the fact that he’s ridiculously pretty. Dude.)

Then Dean and Sam meet up with the reaper, Tessa, who you may remember from the excellent ep In My Time of Dying, where, to my delight, Dean spent the entire time in the most lovely and snug pale blue jim jams. Anyway, the return of Tessa means the return of the very classy and dark haired Lindsey McKeon. That Dean can’t remember her means that the lucky girl can step up for a kiss to shake Dean’s memory loose. What I love here is Sam’s hands-on-hips stance, looking hurt and left out that Dean never told him about her. (Somehow, I imagine that Dean likes to share the litany of his exploits with his younger bro, but more in a keeping track rather than for braggadocio.) 

Even more angst is delivered when Dean gives his little “the horrible things I did speech” to the reaper. But it works because it’s right in the middle of the ep and in context with whatever else is going on.  Not to mention I get to have more of the very controlled, downplayed quivering that Ackles does so well. He also does that talking through his teeth thing, which is a sure sign that Dean’s worked up enough to become visibly agitated. Which, because I’m mean that way, I love to watch.

In order to combat Alistair, Dean and Sam must learn ghost fighting from the LGB, which is another fun scene. Naturally the boys don’t want to whale on someone smaller and lighter than they are, but the LGB pushes them to the point where they must. I love Sam’s comment that he doesn’t want to go all fight club on a kid, but then when he does, guh. I don’t know about you, but watching Sam throw these kinds of punches, he looks so graceful, it makes me take up boxing and martial arts, and how’s that for weird? 

Eventually we get the showdown scene at the funeral home, decorated by someone with vampire scenario tastes, and Sam and Dean soon become trapped by a chain of iron. This interesting turn of events is made even more interesting as the boys find themselves at the opposite end of another well-known ritual on Show, and that is the shooting of the ghosts with rock salt. I’m not sure if it hurts or not, but it must be rather startling and consume some energy to come back from. Alistair, naturally, does it just for fun, almost not looking in that I don’t give a damn way he has. Plus his remark about the Arctic craphole he finds himself in was very funny. Which might explain why Dean is wearing so many layers: after all his time in hell, he’s COLD now. (Am I alone in being slow on the uptake on this one?)

Dean and Sam manage to save Tessa the Reaper, Sam goes back to watch Pamela die (adorably chewing on his fingernails), and Dean’s Ghost wanders back to the motel. Along the way he meets up with Alistair again (there is more of that special snarl on Dean’s lovely lips), and Alistair is destroyed by a bolt of lighting. Enter the Soap Angel! Whoot WHOOT! I was almost glad to see him, you know? I’m not thrilled when he takes up too much screen time, but I’ve grown somewhat fond of his Peter Falk/Columbo attire, not to mention the consternation he causes between the brothers. It’s almost like the Soap Angel wants Dean to choose between him and Sam. I hate to break it to him there, but for Dean, that would be no contest. (Which probably explains why the Soap Angel hasn’t actually proposed that little action. Yet.)

Anyway, the Soap Angel explains everything that’s been going on, that it was he who pretended to be Bobby so the boys would do what he wanted, that the boys have saved the day, and this goodness shall not be forgotten, etc., etc. Then, back at the motel, Dean helps Tessa with the LGB. After which, interestingly, she warns him about buying into the lies people tell each other when someone dies. Which leads her to warn him about the angels and how he should trust his instincts more than any promises they might make to him. She reminds me, in this scene, of a similar one between Sam and the Trickster (in the much beloved ep Mystery Spot), where the Trickster warns Sam, among other things, against loving his brother too much. These two characters, who are neutral at best and certainly not on the boys’ side, have both come forth to offer sage words of wisdom that would be difficult to follow. I suspect (and hope) that we’ve not seen the last of either Tessa or the Trickster.

The last scene is the pointed (and almost bizarre) death of Pamela, where Sam and Dean watch her die. As she dies, she pulls Sam to her to whisper in his ear. At first, I thought she was going to tell him, again (and rightfully so), what a fine ass he has. But actually, she tells him that she can feel what’s inside of him, and warns that his good intentions won’t be able to help him. It’s a brilliantly filmed scene, as Dean looks on, we see only one half of Sam’s face curtained by Pamela’s cascading locks. She whispers about his darkness, and Sam’s one eye widens in shock, his shock that she knows, and you can see the panic start, because if she knows, who else knows? When Dean asks about what Pamela said, naturally Sam doesn’t tell her. Which is yet another brick in the wall the brothers are building.

To sum, a  brilliant ep. Well worth watching and re-watching. One of those that will spin off into fan fiction and art. Themes and bits of dialog that will keep True Fans talking and make them (me) want to come back for more. Show brought all the necessary elements together excellently, even though I didn’t even come close to capturing all the nuances of dialog and facial expressions, not to mention the hil-arious exchange where Ghost Dean sticks his whole arm through Ghost Sam’s chest, and when Ghost Sam tells Ghost Dean, “Dude, get out of me,” and Ghost Dean tells Ghost Sam he’s a prude, I about died. Or how about how cool Sam was when he exorcised those demons with only his mind and a manly clenched fist? And what about Sam’s hair, I can’t forget to mention that, it would not be right. It’s especially fine around the middle of the ep, when Sam’s still getting used to being a ghost, as it kind of falls about his face in this errant disarray, oh man. So adorable. So perfect. See what I mean? If I tried to get at everything, I’d be here all day. Not that the view is difficult to look at, mind.

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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