#7X10 Death's Door

[spn-rewatch-ventzone]

I love when Dean goes dark mode and just says some of the most threatening things I’ve ever heard.

Roman laughs at his threats so he just really intensely says, “You’re either laughing because your scared or laughing because your stupid.”

Makes me go wild

[lovealwayssay]

Bobby’s last and best memory was Sam and Dean. I am not okay😭😭😭

[shirtlesssammy]

Dean Winchester every day -- 136/326

Supernatural 7x10//Death's Door

[spnwin-reader]

Sam would be odd man out on snacks even had his parents survived:

JOHN: Licorice drops? Nice choice.

Woe to Sam, continually and perpetually outnumbered, even when Jack joins the family. Hell, even when he eats, Cas like pork rinds and crap food.

Who will eat terrible rabbit-food alongside Sam? No one.

(Maybe Henry?)

SPNwin 1x01, SPN 7x10

[raptor-claw]

okay so.

i watched the episode where bobby dies.

and oh my fucking god.

im forcing the supernatural producers to pay for my therapy bills.

[shallowseeker]

The script for 7x17 Born-Again Identity wasn't all that different from what aired.

The thing that made it hit so tensely romantic n' horrifically raw (to the point that it made everyone uncomfortable, allegedly) was probably this seemingly innocuous little line: "Just-- take it. Please."

It's not just the symbolism of the coat being a symbol of their relationship, (though it is certainly that). The coat, like the Leviathan blossom in season 15, is a little smooshed, but it's still there, against all the odds. But this "just take it, please," line is just so desperate. It sounds dangerously close to "giving away your heart." Please.

Just take it. Please. Just take it. Please.

///

All the monsters, and Chuck, throughout the series, "just want your heart," (ex., the werewolf to Dean in 13x23 script), but Dean already gave it to Cas.

///

He goes to the car trunk. Digs... Comes up with Cas's folded, stained COAT. DEAN: Dumb to keep. I know. I saw you-- dissolve or whatever. But, just in case. 'Casue I never stopped wanting to fix it either. So we got something in common. (re: the coat) Just-- take it. Please.

The script also calls to mind 7x10 Death's Door, where Bobby laments his fight with Karen, and not being able to fix their last fight. Bobby's dying act was to help direct them toward the whereabouts of Emanuel.

///

And then, after Dean finds Cas, he is so, so reluctant to tell Cas the awful truth, partially in order to spare him the pain of it. He knows that Cas, in his core, cares about doing the right thing. Dean knows that this will hurt Cas.

And... Dean’s so afraid of Cas disappearing. Sam's dying, and Dean needs Cas’s help, but Dean’s also, really, really taking an emotional hit through all of this.

Cas says, "Tell me. I'll be fine." And Dean is generally unhinged and distressed about that possibility: "How do you know?" Because being an angel is "bloody and corrupt," and Dean knows that it hurts Cas to be tangled up in all of it.

DEAN (snapping, to Meg) Think it's that cut and dry? Really?! (then) You know what he did. So what, tell him, he'll take it in stride? He could snap, disappear-- who knows!

///

On the heels of this:

DEAN: No. Honestly-- I don't know if he's dead. All I can say is...whole thing couldn't be messier. (then, quieter) I could always shake if off. Anything. Might take a while, but I could. Then... Cas did this. And I just can't, I don't know why. CAS: It doesn't matter why. DEAN: What? Course that matters--

Of course it matters, because it's Dean's feelings. It's different! He doesn't know why! It's The Piece of the Puzzle that Dean keeps tearing at, not letting it scab over. It's the thing he's been working to understand about himself, from his outsized reactions to Cas not trusting him in season 6 to Dean’s incredible devastation at the events of season 7.

This will lead Dean to a dawning acceptance of why he can't shake Cas in season 8, and that will lead Dean to a sad, calm resolve to accept... whatever it will be. This thing with Cas.

//////////////////

(Text Attributions// Supernatural scripts here via @spnscripthunt. Transcripts are located here via SPNWiki. Visit their Tumblr to donate.)

[thebeautyofspn]

7x10 Death’s Door

[watching-sam-and-dean-again]

Season 7: Deaths Door

So, I’m watching a reactor who just got to this episode. Yes, this is another post based around reaction videos. No it’s not the same one I wrote about last time (if I have any followers who keep track). Yes, I have a reactors on the go currently, and sadly, two of them are on seasons I don’t like much (Season 7 and Season 15), so it’s a bit rough going right now.

Anyway, I think the episode where Bobby dies is a good one, though it is definitely sad. There are quite a few moments that really stand out for me. First, Dean punching the glass when the organ donor guy comes to talk to him while Bobby is still alive is really impactful. You understand and empathize with Dean so hard in that moment, and I think he showed unusual restraint in punching the glass rather than the man. My guy, what the hell are you doing asking someone about organs while their loved one is fighting for their life? Next, Sam pressing on his palm while he tries to wrestle with the reality of Bobby dying is heartbreaking to me. I think this is a moment that some people miss, but it hurts so much while it reminds me that Sam, while he mostly looks okay on the outside, is still dealing with the aftermath of his soul being locked in the cage with Lucifer for 180 years. The guy is struggling with reality on a daily basis, thinks he doesn’t have it so bad just because others experience "worse," and is now losing his surrogate dad. Finally, Bobby's memories of the boys being just totally average little moments of them acting like typical brothers is very wholesome. Though, I enjoy all of Bobby’s memories (Rufus!) and what they show us about Bobby. Really good episode overall.

Now, here is where my … problem (I guess I’ll go with that term) comes in. I like this reactor because they are entertaining, and they tend to try look at things from both brothers' points of view most of the time, but they said two things that irked me a bit while watching the episode, especially because they seem to be opinions shared by a lot of viewers. Obviously opinions are going to be subjective, so I don’t think this reactor is being unfair. I just don’t fully agree. First, they said that they feel especially bad for Dean in this episode because he has been through so much. Second, they suggest that Bobby's death might be harder on the boys because Bobby was more of a father to them than John was.

Please see my thought under the cut

So, tackling the first idea, I don’t object to feeling bad for Dean this season or the idea that he has been through too mich. At all. I object to the implied idea that he has somehow been through more or worse than Sam at this point in the show, and thus deserves more sympathy. Excuse me, but, what!? Let’s not delve all the way back through their history because that could go on forever, instead let’s just look at Season 6 and Season 7 (up to this point).

Let’s start with Dean. He experienced the pain of having a soulless Sam back, who didn’t particularly care about him. This is essentially one of his worst nightmares, so I understand him reeling from this for a while. He gained and lost a family, and picked up a heap more loss and guilt to deal with from leaving them. He was betrayed by his "best friend," who also hurt his brother just to stop Dean from interfering with his purgatory plan. He has to "deal with" Sam suffering from hallucinations. He broke a leg. He’s had to temporarily give up his baby. And now Bobby, his surrogate dad, is dying. These are all very hard things, and I truly feel bad for Dean having to go through them, but he’s also done things to add to his own misery this season, like kill Amy and lie to Sam about it and drink his face off instead of coping with his depression and guilt. Dean is his own worst enemy, and it sometimes affects the empathy I have for him.

Now, let’s look at Sam. Since Season 6, Sam has to come to terms with the fact that while he was soulless he did absolutely terrible things, things that he has to now remember and live with, even though in his normal state he never would have done them. He was also betrayed by Cas. First, Cas brought him back soulless, and while I don’t think he knew what exactly was wrong with Sam, he knew something was off and then proceeded to ignore Sam when he reached out to him about it. Then, he betrayed him by breaking his hell-wall just to distract Dean; he risked destroying Sam's mind entirely just to get Dean out of his way. Now, Sam is the one who is actually suffering from hallucinations, which have never gone away up to this point, rather he just learns to distinguish them from reality and go about his business. The show doesn’t remind us of this constantly, so I kind of understand audiences not actively thinking about this. Still, what Sam is experiencing in Season 7 is horrific. On top of all this, he’s worrying about Dean because of his drinking and depression. And now he too is losing Bobby, and he didn’t even have a sweet one-on-one memory to fall back on with Bobby unless he did and it just wasn’t significant enough for Bobby to remember. While Cas' betrayal probably hurt Dean more because Cas was closer to him at this point, what he did still has to hurt Sam, too; it even made him wonder if Cas brought him back soulless on purpose.

Now, my whole point with this is not that people should feel worse for Sam than Dean, but that it seems crazy to me to feel more empathy for Dean than Sam at this point. Dean has to worry about Sam's mental state, but Sam is the one living it. Meanwhile, Sam is worried about Dean's mental state, which is poor partially because of what’s happening with Sam these codependent boys have both been through way too much in the last Season and a half alone. Just because Sam isn’t as demonstrative with his emotions as Dean a lot of the time doesn’t mean he isn’t also in pain. So, I empathize strong,y with both of them in this situation of losing Bobby on top of everything else.

Finally, the idea that Bobby is Sam and Dean "real" dad is one I always take issue with. John is not perfect by any means, but he did love his sons. He literally sold his soul to save Dean. This is not nothing. Dean has fond memories of him, and Sam had a nice moment with him and laughed with him in "Dead Man's Blood." When John first sees his boys after months (years for Sam) apart, he hugs them both. This is not a dad who doesn’t love his kids. His harshness was a result of fear for the boys most of the time, not unlike how Dean treated Ben when he was worried about him and Lisa at the end of Season 6. I’m not saying this is right, or that he couldn’t be too harsh, but they are living extraordinary experiences. John raised his kids like soldiers, but if he hadn’t they’d probably have died sooner. And the fact that they called him Sir, didn’t mean that he was only a Drill Sargent to them. Moreover, even though John made a ton of mistakes, his death was absolutely devastating for both Sam and Dean. Bobby on the other hand, may have "adopted two boys" in his heart, but he wasn’t perfect either. He’s been harsh with both of them at times, sometimes fairly, other times not as fairly, and he clearly has a favorite, which isn’t ideal in a father figure. Yes, he brought Dean to play catch, but an uncle might do that too, and did he ever do something like that for Sam? I like Bobby, I really do, and I think he’s a good surrogate but he is not their "real" dad, either. And while a terrible blow, I don’t think his death has equal impact on the boys to John’s.

Anyway, that’s it on this one. Thanks for reading, if you made it this far.

What are your thought any of this?

[winchesterride]

Which SPN character's crimes are you the #1 defender of to the end of time?

Well I don’t really know what yo consider a crime, thinking that they break laws every day, but talking about murder I think this is one everyone agrees with, but Bobby killing his father in 7x10 (death's door). He had it coming. I felt happy when he did.

I also didn’t felt a bit sorry about Benny killing Martin in 8x09 (citzen fang). Same as Jack killing Travis in 4x04 (metamorphosis) he's not an important character but I think they're two similar situations where the hunter went too far.

I also don't think anything Sam did in season 6 as wrong 'cause he was soulless so...

Bonus: Demon Dean killing Lester in 10x02 he was kind of a dick

[ashleytrashly]

BOBBY!!!

I forgot that we lose Bobby in season 7! Why did I think it was much later! I love Bobby! This show is rude.

[spn-rewatch-ventzone]

Bye Bobby :(

[onespncap]

s07e10 -- "Death's Door"

[seasononesam]

Stackednatural- 127/327

Death's Door (7x10) December 2nd, 2011

[bloodydeanwinchester]

okay one last poll and for this one i am excluding all season openers and season finales and finding the highest rated episode from each season (based on imdb ratings) now:

just like before since i couldn't fit them all i left off the lowest rated ones. i can't believe lebanon is rated that high??? also i can't believe tmwwbk didn't even rate over 9??? what the hell is wrong with the people who rate these episodes on imdb 😤

**season 11 had 2 rated 9.4 but i chose the one that i didn't think was gonna end up getting all the votes in the poll (sorry baby i love you)

[bekolxeram]

Lagging behind the discourse of the day™ again because I've been balls knee deep in helicopter and weather stuff for the past month.

I've already done a full breakdown of that 57 second dinner scene in 7x10, but I'd like to focus on the last 4 lines that caused the whole daddy kink controversy this time.

If we want to talk about media literacy, I think it's important to look at how the source material actually goes, before coming up with interpretations. In this case, after months of debates, a lot of them in bad faith, the flow of the conversation has gotten mushed together, changing what the scene actually presents.

Most of us read this as Buck flirting, turning the heavy topic about shitty fathers into a lighter one. Folks who dislike Tommy to begin with say just because Buck is smiling doesn't mean he means it in a sexual way, and Tommy denies him the opportunity to open up emotionally by bringing daddy kink into the picture, with the "God I hope so" line. But it doesn't matter whether Buck is flirting here or not, because Tommy's actual reply to this line is:

Just, "I don't", no extra connotation, in a very matter of fact way. The ball is fully in Buck's court again, if he really wants to talk about his own trauma, or figure out if Tommy is truly unaffected by his upbringing, here is his chance.

Instead, he doubles down on daddy issues. I can't imagine anyone asking if their partner thinks they have daddy issues, with that face, in a non-sexual way. Objection, your honor, leading question.

So Tommy gives Buck the answer he's obviously looking for. The end.

There have also been talks about Buck being in a state of worry about Bobby's wellbeing, while all Tommy thinks about is sex. This one is not even worth getting into. The scene literally starts with Tommy asking if Bobby is gonna be okay, and Buck confirming that everything is looking positive. This is no longer a stressful, breath-holding moment, it's a finally getting to exhale moment. Bobby being back from death's door is a small win to celebrate over.

[sassenach77yle]

7x10 “Brotherly Love”

94 THE PATHS OF DEATH

LYING IN THE TANGLED HELL of my bed at night, I searched for the way to death. I longed with every fiber of my being to pass from this present existence. Whether what lay on the other side of life was undreamed glory or only merciful oblivion, mystery was infinitely preferable to my present inescapable misery.I cannot say what it was that kept me from a simple and violent escape. The means, after all, were always to hand. I had my choice of pistol ball or blade, of poisons ranging from swiftness to stupor.I rummaged through the jars and bottles of the medicine chest like a madwoman, leaving the little drawers ajar, the doors hanging open, seeking, scrabbling in my haste, ransacking knowledge and memory as I did the chest, knocking jars and bottles and bits of the past to the floor in a jumble.At last I thought I had them all and, with a shaking hand, laid them one by one by one on the tabletop before me.Aconite. Arsenic …So many kinds of death to choose from. How, then?The ether. That would be the easiest, if not quite the surest. Lie down, soak a thick pad of cloth in the stuff, put the mask over my nose and mouth, and drift painlessly away. But there was always the chance that someone would find me. Or that, losing consciousness, my head might fall to one side or I’d suffer convulsions that would dislodge the rag, and I would simply wake again to this aching void of existence.I sat still for a moment, and then, feeling dreamlike, reached out to pick up the knife that lay on the table, where I had carelessly left it after using it to cut flax stems. The knife Jamie had given me. It was sharp; the edge gleamed raw and silver.It would be sure, and it would be fast.[...]

I LET MY HAND fall back, exposing my wrist, and placed the tip of the knife midway up my forearm. I’d seen many unsuccessful suicides, those who slashed their wrists from side to side, the wounds small mouths that cried for help. I’d seen those who meant it. The proper way was to slit the veins lengthwise, deep, sure cuts that would drain me of blood in minutes, assure unconsciousness in seconds.The mark was still visible on the mound at the base of my thumb. A faint white “J,” the mark he’d left on me on the eve of Culloden, when we first faced the stark knowledge of death and separation.I traced the thin white line with the tip of the knife and felt the seductive whisper of metal on my skin. I’d wanted to die with him then, and he had sent me on with a firm hand. I carried his child; I could not die.I carried her no longer—but she was still there. Perhaps reachable. I sat motionless for what seemed a long time, then sighed and put the knife back on the table carefully.Perhaps it was the habit of years, a bent of mind that held life sacred for its own sake, or a superstitious awe of extinguishing a spark kindled by a hand not my own. Perhaps it was obligation. There were those who needed me—or at least to whom I could be useful. Perhaps it was the stubbornness of the body, with its inexorable insistence on never-ending process.I could slow my heart, slow enough to count the beats… slow the flowing of my blood ’til my heart echoed in my ears with the doom of distant drums.There were pathways in the dark. I knew; I had seen people die. Despite physical decay, there was no dying until the pathway was found. I couldn’t—yet—find mine.

~~~~~~~~

95 NUMBNESS

THE NEW MEDICAL CHEST sat on the table in my room, gleaming softly in the candlelight. Beside it were the gauze bags of dried herbs I had bought during the morning, the fresh bottles of the tinctures I had brewed in the afternoon, much to Mrs. Figg’s displeasure at having her kitchen’s purity so perverted. Her slitted eyes said that she knew me for a rebel and thought me likely a witch; she’d retreated to the doorway of the cookhouse while I worked but wouldn’t leave altogether, instead keeping silent suspicious watch over me and my cauldron.A large decanter of plum brandy was keeping me company. Over the course of the last week, I had found that a glass of it at night would let me find surcease in sleep, at least for a little. It wasn’t working tonight. I heard the clock on the mantelpiece downstairs chime softly, once.I stooped to pick up a box of dried chamomile that had spilled, sweeping the scattered leaves carefully back into their container. A bottle of syrup of poppies had fallen over, too, lying on its side, the aromatic liquid oozing round the cork. I set it upright, wiped the golden droplets from its neck with my kerchief, blotted up the tiny puddle from the floor. A root, a stone, a leaf. One by one, I picked them up, set them straight, put them away, the accoutrements of my calling, the pieces of my destiny.The cool glass seemed somehow remote, the gleaming wood an illusion. Heart beating slowly, erratically, I put a hand flat on the box, trying to steady myself, to fix myself in space and time. It was becoming more difficult by the day.I remembered, with sudden, painful vividness, a day on the retreat from Ticonderoga. We had reached a village, found momentary refuge in a barn. I’d worked all day then, doing what could be done with no supplies, no medicines, no instruments, no bandages save what I made from the sweat-sodden, filthy clothes of the wounded. Feeling the world recede further and further as I worked, hearing my voice as though it belonged to someone else. Seeing the bodies under my hands, only bodies. Limbs. Wounds. Losing touch.Darkness fell. Someone came, pulled me to my feet, and sent me out of the barn, into the little tavern. It was crowded, overwhelmed with people. Someone—Ian?—said that Jamie had food for me outside.He was alone there, in the empty woodshed, dimly lit by a distant lantern.I’d stood in the doorway, swaying. Or perhaps it was the room that swayed.I could see my fingers dug into the wood of the doorjamb, nails gone white.

A movement in the dimness. He rose fast, seeing me, came toward me. What was his—“Jamie.” I’d felt a distant sense of relief at finding his name.He’d seized me, drawn me into the shed, and I wondered for an instant whether I was walking or whether he was carrying me; I heard the scrape of the dirt floor under my feet but didn’t feel my weight or the shift of it.He was talking to me, the sound of it soothing. It seemed a dreadful effort to distinguish words. I knew what he must be saying, though, and managed to say, “All right. Just… tired,” wondering even as I spoke them whether these sounds were words at all, let alone the right ones.“Will ye sleep, then, lass?” he’d said, worried eyes fixed on me. “Or can ye eat a bit first?” He let go of me, to reach for the bread, and I put out a hand to the wall to support myself, surprised to find it solid.The sense of cold numbness had returned.“Bed,” I said. My lips felt blue and bloodless. “With you. Right now.”He’d cupped my cheek, calloused palm warm on my skin. Big hand. Solid. Above all, solid.“Are ye sure, a nighean?” he’d said, a note of surprise in his voice. “Ye look as though—”I’d laid a hand on his arm, half fearing that it would go through his flesh.“Hard,” I’d whispered. “Bruise me.”My glass was empty, the decanter halfway full. I poured another and took hold of the glass carefully, not wanting to spill it, determined to find oblivion, no matter how temporary.Could I separate entirely? I wondered. Could my soul actually leave my body without my dying first? Or had it done so already?[...]

An Echo in the Bone