spn20rewatch, 5.05: "We need training wheels."
Let's imagine that you just had the worst year of your life. You were told the worst possible thing was going to happen, and if you worked very very very hard, under impossible odds, you might have a chance of stopping it from happening. And then you find out that you weren't actually working on the same playing field that you thought you were on -- in fact you weren't even working in the team you thought you were on -- and then you're told -- actually, you know what, there was no possible way for you to ever win, because it's been doomed from the start that you would lose, and the person you thought was on your team is actually doomed to be on the opposite side. And then, even if you didn't want to believe that -- if you REFUSE that as much as you can, with every straining fiber you can bring to bear -- you're shown proof that, no, this is going to happen this way, and you should just give up and grin and bear it. Of course you're not going to do that -- even if you really want to -- and you say, no. You say, we're going to work through this. You say, I know I just saw the worst possible outcome and the person I was meant to trust the most is at the center of it, but I refuse and we're going to do something else. Now try to put that fresh fun attitude in practice.
Something I like to do sometimes is watch the show from a solo perspective. Like, you can fast forward and see only the scenes where Dean is alone or where Sam is alone, and then when they come together they (and you, the viewer) have a really different context for the current circumstances.
Watch the end of s4 through the beginning of s5 as just Sam and it feels one way; watch it as just Dean, and it feels completely different. If you're Sam, you were bitter and then you were poisoned and then you realize just how entirely you fucked up -- but you know that you fucked up, and you know why, and you know that even if it truly was an egregious fuckup it's not like you had full information about what was going to happen. Nevertheless, you fucked up, and now you want to put it right. If you're Dean, you know that Sam fucked up too, and you know that he didn't have full information about what was going to happen, but you also know that you told and told and told him not to do what he was doing -- and he did it anyway, and now here are the results. You also took a fun little vacay to the future and saw every worst ramification from what those results were, and -- fun bonus! -- the literal Adversary wearing your brothers skin snapped your neck in front of you. You don't want it to be true. You know Sam is better than that. You know that you and Sam are better than that. You know how to fix it. But now you have to actually fix it, and -- again -- you just watched your brother snap your neck. Not exactly ideal circumstances. Nevertheless --
Welcome to Fallen Idols. The title's pretty appropriate, I think.
Dean's being a real asshole in this episode, and he knows it. He's pissed off, though, and it's not hard to see why. Hell, Sam agrees. He knows all the same information Dean does, at this point. But Sam also knows something else:
SAM: Look. I know what I did. What I've done. And I am trying to climb out of that hole, I am, but you're not making it any easier. DEAN: So what am I supposed to do, just let you off the hook? [...] SAM: Dean, one of the reasons I went off with Ruby... was to get away from you. DEAN: What? SAM: It made me feel strong. Like I wasn't your kid brother. DEAN: Are you saying this is my fault? SAM: No, it's my fault. All I'm saying is that, if we're gonna do this, we have to do it different.
Sam not actually being correct in his assessment of his place in power structure of the brotherly team-up doesn't matter; it's nevertheless how he felt, and he realizes that how the relationship feels matters almost as much (or more) than the facts of how it is. Of course Dean's never been able to actually tell him what to do -- the past four years should have made that pretty clear, if not the past 26 -- but nevertheless Sam's got that rebellious streak and he needs to push against something, and he knows that if Dean keeps trying to pretend he's in charge he's going to shove against it, and they'll end up broken all over again.
What's so good about this episode is -- this works! Something was broken, almost irrevocably, and they really had to separate and get away from how absolutely awful that breaking was. They come back together with big promises about fixing things after Dean's awful trip to the future and Sam's awful attempt at hiding, but big promises don't mean anything. You have to prove you mean them. So, Sam proves it. He doesn't want to fight. He wants to work with Dean and do good and save the world and he explains what he feels is the best way to move forward on that. Dean's hurt and furious, but he hears it, and he understands, and he knows, too -- the best way they ever are is they way they are when they're together. It's worth fumbling awkwardly through the pain for that to be true.
Honestly, people want the Winchester brothers to get therapy, but a) they're better at dealing with their feelings calmly than a lot of people with weekly sessions to their name, and also b) therapy ain't ever fixing what's wrong with these two. But really -- in the meta-context of this genre, and in the in-universe context of what's required of them by literal, actual destiny... there's nothing wrong with them, really. They don't have any other choice but the choice they're making. They must figure out a way to be together and work together, or everything falls apart. That they're able to do that so easily and remarkably quickly, given the horrors of what they've just gone through -- really. Idols.
