Super-Final-Natural-Crisis

For anyone paying just the slightest bit of attention to this blog, you already know that I absolutely adore the TV show SUPERNATURAL. For anyone paying just the slightest attention to network television, you already know that SUPERNATURAL finished their fifth and most likely final season last night. Over the last five years the Winchester Brothers have taken on just about every monster one could think of and were doing their best to take on the Apocalypse. No, not one of the one-of-many, hey-its-Tuesday-the-world-is-ending, Buffy Apocalypses. I mean Lucifer walking the Earth ready for a showdown with Michael; the Four Horseman have come; full blown Revelations Apocalypse. The whole fifth season was the Brothers and their allies doing damage control and trying to survive. There was also the small wrinkle that they were the chosen vessels for Michael and Lucifer and if they say "Yes" to them entering their bodies then the fight would be on and more than half the planet would be torched.

So, how do you wrap up five years and the fight to end all fights in one hour? How do you end something like this? How can you satisfy all your fans?

Endings are a bitch. This show told us that.

Really. It told us that. You see the Winchester boys happen to have met a prophet in their adventures that had been chronicling there deeds in the form of novels. While he wasn't in the fight he wrote about it. He knew it was the end, but how do you write it? Obviously the prophet, Chuck, was playing the role of show creator Eric Kripke a bit. "Any monkey with a typewriter and write a beginning, but an ending?" Very true. So Chuck wrote about a car.

A '67 Chevy Impala to be specific. Because in the story, in that whole world, its important and it had its own story.

So yeah. The fight went down. It was brutal and bloody. I cringed a bit as characters I had grown to love fell. I tried to wrap my head and heart around the sense of finality was the hour drew to a close. Chuck said there would always be fans complaining because there was no way to answer all the questions. And I sat there last night knowing that if I wracked my brain I was sure to think of some plot thread that was left to be explored.

Unfortunately I won't have that chance. Damn you Eric Kripke. I hope somehow you get to read this. I didn't sleep worth a damn last night, AND ITS ALL YOUR DAMN FAULT!!! Yes, I'd ponder your show for days, reveling in the intricate little twists and turns you put on it. Thursday night is the only night that makes me truly excited to watch television. You took the questions that were burning in my head for weeks (Can Sam beat the Devil? Can Dean save his brother?), and replaced them! I'm asking more questions now! I'm at peace with my thoughts on who Chuck really was, but dammit who was that under that streetlight. One scene at the end that last maybe two seconds had my jaw on the floor and I nearly fell out of my seat.

You bastard Kripke. I hate you. I love you. I want to be you went I grow up.

AAAAARRRRRGGGGGHHHHHH!

He pinged brilliantly off of Grant Morrison's FINAL CRISIS whether he meant to or not.

Screw "the end".