Ode to SPN kitchens, hotel kitchenettes, & the coffee of domesticity. Guest appearances by the family diner, the coworkers’ bar, the road warrior roadhouse, and a variety of family beer brands.
There's just something about the sight of an attractive man in the kitchen, isn't there?😳
4x02 & 6x06
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spnwin 1x08
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Mary sees John in the kitchen, and it’s the first spark of something almost too tempting to turn away from. The image of it shakes her more than any fight... Because John standing there, pouring her a drink feels like a life. A promise.
It's the first time they meet in the kitchen, but already, it feels like a rhythm they could fall into. A life they could build.
But Mary, bound by family expectations and duty, gets spooked before she'’s ready to reach for it.
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It’s the same kind of rhythm Dean and Cas fall into, long before they ever consciously choose each other. They drift into kitchens, into quiet moments, into the unspoken work of living. They move through missions, through saving Sam, through fighting Heaven.
It’s not something they force; it’s pure instinct. When they are together, they make a home, even out of dead things, out of derelict, broken things.
They fall into step without thinking, the way people who trust each other do. The way people who belong to each other do. And they don’t always meet halfway, but Cas is the one who makes decisions with Dean, who argues with him, who pushes back when he needs to. Sometimes they fall short. Sometimes they fail each other. But Dean still expects. With Cas, he expects and he wants—perhaps more than he does with anyone else.
Because even before Dean ever says it, even before he understands it, he chooses Cas. In the missions. In the fights. In the kitchen.
In the life he doesn’t even know he’s been building naturally all along.
We don't see a lot of kitchens in the pilot episode. The thrust of the Winchesters’ home shots are centered around the family tree (outside), the exterior of the Winchester family home, John and Mary's bedroom, John's den, and of course, Sam's nursery.
Sam's kitchen is little more than a peek-a-boo, but nevertheless, I think it's an important presence here. It's clear that this is the first kitchen Sam's very own, separate from the domestic life of his nursery/youth.
In short, I think the decoration of Sam's living space itself deserves "a kitchen label," notable for it being more personalized and "alive" than almost anything we'll see out of Sam Winchester for a very long time.
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But first, some honorable mentions:
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(1) BAR
The first roadhouse-style bar of friendships
Ah, a festive bar. A place where we gather to drink and be merry, to celebrate life's milestones. (Or conversely, to nurse our hurt feelings.) Here, Sam's girlfriend and classmates try to coax Sam out of his perfectionistic shell. At Stanford, Sam is called "golden boy" and is clearly a hard worker.
He's the specter of the (quickly-burning-out) gifted kid. The overachiever. (We'll see this echoed in other underdog characters like Kevin Tran and Patience Turner. They work so hard because so much is stacked against them. But that work ethic is a candle burning at both ends. Sam is a bit of a head-down, stick-in-the-mud guy, like how Patience Turner in 13x03 Patience doesn't do "fun" because she's so busy with the "successful" planning of her life.
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(2) A DINER
It’s not a family diner, per se, but in a sense, it's almost familial. Small-town. Outside of it, we see the vic's girlfriend, Amy, putting up missing posters.
Inside, she sits and talks with Sam and Dean, being supported by her friend. (Aside: We also see the first protective amulet, which is echoed in the symbol hanging above John's bed. And of course, the amulet that passed from Bobby to Sam to Dean.)
(2a) Coffee cups of domesticity: Sam and Dean drink from matching white mugs, a symbolic shared space of family, of domestic rhythms. We'll see coffee featuring heavily in shows like The Winchesters, with the core four using it as a way to signify their blended "work-family."
But in this episode, we see it in the mode of the shared childhood domesticity. Siblings are often from the same vine, and they grow out of the same nursery, sharing the first kitchens together as they grow up.
Alternatively, the caffeine symbolizes work. Long hours toiling.
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(3) SAM'S APARTMENT
Sam's apartment is small but cozy, filled with personal affects that are very unlike the Sam we come to know while on the road and the one that later lives in the bunker.
We see a bike, a well-loved reading chair and a dog-eared book, a fun, colorful shirt on a peg. This is certainly "Sam's home" in a way that other places are not. Perhaps it's because this home was so well-nested that it's painful for him to carve out spaces for himself in the future, even under the protective wing of his brother (and later his mother).
(Sam peeks in from the direction of the kitchen.)
Yes, this is a home. Light streams in, and plants, books, and art are everywhere. There is growth. It's like a little Eden. Artwork and esoteric touches are very cute throughout the apartment. Books and reading chairs abound, and we see stacks of document boxes for Sam's studies.
Even in her sleep, Jess is turned towards the sun, like a flower basking in the light.
Also: These beaded dividers were SO popular at this time; I feel so nostalgic! (It's such a college thing! (Of note, Endverse Cas also has a beaded divider like this is his cabin).
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OTHER ITEMS OF NOTE:
Behind the image of Sam packing a sickle, we see a full bookshelf. Jess comes into the frame, and we see her hearth-coded gray dressing robe hanging on the wall.
It could also be Sam's robe, a sign that at one time, he let himself be clothed in the warmth and comforts of a home. (Perhaps by the time he lands at the bunker, he can't bear it.)
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WHERE ARE YOU GOING?
When she sits, Jess tenderly caresses his travel bag; a microcosm of married life, almost like: "I wish we didn't have to go to work; work interferes with the Living part of life."
We get Jess too, asking her own variant of, "Where are you going?" / "I wish you'd at least tell me where you're going..."
Henry kept things from John, Mary kept things from John, and now Sam keeps things from Jess.
It's also an echo of child-John to Henry, "Where're you goin'?" & "Work."
And also Dean's season 15 plea to Cas, "Where're you going? What's happening?" & "To look for another way."
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SAM LOVES HIS FAMILY BUT HIS APARTMENT IS HIS HOME
Sam certainly has love, affection, and nostalgia for his family, even John. As John still keeps a photo of John in his apartment, we see that John still keeps a photo of the boys:
But after the hunt, Same went home.
He comes through the door, and we more personal item: a bike tire, and two umbrellas (one for him and one for Jess). We also see his big stack of study materials and documents:
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(4) THE KITCHEN
Now, Sam visually enters his (tiny) kitchen:
It's small but full of love. A "welcome home." The camera looks through the bars of the empty table chair, and we glimpse his face. He's touched by the little gesture of love: "Missed you! Love you!"
Jess knows he's stressed out. She tries to support him through it. (He's recently taken the LSAT, and now he's trying to juggle his career obligations with his obligations to his family.)
But these cookies have a dark side.
There's also a cheeky reference to an "offering." (Offerings of produce and meals are shared in gratitude for God's provision.) Here too, as with Mary, Jess will become a ritualized sacrifice, chaining Sam to the narrative.
Sam's very first visualized kitchen... becomes a murder scene.
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SAM WAS GOING TO STAY
Just as Zachariah will in It's a Terrible Life apply extra pressure to pull Dean away from his family life [Bobby, Eileen, and Jo] Azazel applies similar pressure on Sam to pull him away from Jess.
When he gets home to Jess, Sam's relieved. He smiles and grabs a cookie, sighing in relief, feeling loved. (Later in life, Sam seems to struggle to allow himself to eat sweets like this.)
But here, he takes it for what it is: a simple gift of love that he's allowed to eat.
He collapses onto his bed, hearing the calming sound of the shower going in the background. The light is shining on his face...
Until of course it isn't.
That light turns to droplets of blood.
Like Mary is a narrative sacrifical for the audience and gods "above," so too is Jess. The sacrifice occurs, not in Sam's childhood nursery, but at the crossroads of his childhood and adulthood.
Sam echoes John's fate but also Mary's…
In the Beginning (4x03), John was sacrificed by Azazel to put Mary on a certain narrative path, to draw her into a deal. John died right before he was going to commit to a future with Mary, just like Jess died before she would commit to a future with Sam, like Cas died in 12x23 before he could commit to a future with Dean.
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SAM'S HOME BURNING
Sam's little home is burning.
It's the place where he made his very first, very own kitchen. The place with the paintings and the plants and the chairs... The murder is marked by cruelty and spectacle, as Mary's was:
Azazel’s signature kills often involve twisting the neck (Deanna, John) and/or gutting (Samuel, Mary, and Jess).
Here, Jess's body echoes it all. The stomach, linked to vital organs and emotions ("gut feelings"), symbolize dominance, control, and tye exposing of vulnerability. "The soft underbelly." The bent limbs are meant to send a message, to mock, to create a dramatic display—a very literal "twisted" sense of aesthetics. She’s posed like a doll, with her left "heart-side hand" raised, as if reaching.
Her outfit, unlike her usual nightwear, suggests Azazel dressed her for impact. It’s even possible Azazel turned on the shower and baked the cookies—both calculated to shock Sam.
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THE RESCUE
I'm not sure how much Dean knows about what happened to Mary, but this is quite traumatic for him as well, bringing up all kinds of horrific memories.
Sam cried as he was carried out the first time, and he cries here now.
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BONUS: THE AFTERMATH
Dean looks on at the ashes of Sam's new life; Azazel (in the form of John) looks down at the ashes of Sam's old life.
After the fire, Dean’s pose and jacket mirror Azazel/John, like a ghostly, refracted image. No matter who's at fault, ultimately Dean is the one who feels responsible.
While Dean may deserve some criticism for his human faults, he is often unfairly saddled with blame for everything that goes wrong in his family’s life—caught between genuine mistakes and misplaced accusations.
John, on the other hand, bears far greater responsibility for his wrongdoings. His unhinged paranoia often made his family less safe. And yet, like Lucifer, he is also something of "an Azazel," a "scapegoat." Having already caused so much harm, he becomes a lightning rod for additional blame, absorbing the weight of everything wrong with the world.
John is the felled protector, the failed protector. After all, the snake came into the garden under his watch. (He's really a bit like Gadreel when you think about it.)
