John Blake (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
oversight) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
aimingtoamuse2013-08-24 06:50 pm
oversight) wrote in aimingtoamuse2013-08-24 06:50 pm
Entry tags:
Stand
The Supernatural books are hardly Pulitzer material, but that doesn't stop him from having favorite moments... if you can call them that.
As Blake flips to the next passage, he takes pause. In the time that his eyes track from the last word on the current page to the first word on the next, he lets out a long, careful breath. He's read it all before, none of it's a surprise, but time changes things. Inevitably, something about the non-stop march forward, the unceasing ticking of the clock, always shifts views and alters perspectives. In this case, John's had a lot more time to think.
He likes Lisa and Ben. Something about the characters— the people (he sometimes forgets they're real people)— strikes him as genuine: every bit real life to people who rarely live a real life. In every instance they're mentioned, it's positive in some way. Sad, but positive, which is decidedly not a typical theme in the books, which are best described as just heartbreaking, if content's anything to be judged.
And then Dean leaves them. He leaves Ben and Lisa.
...But I wanted you to know that when I do picture myself happy, it's with you. And the kid.
Dean takes a stand.
It sticks with John, twists tendrils of hurt around his heart and holds on. He's never had to give up something like that, can't imagine how much it's gotta hurt, and when he considers how well-adjusted (albeit broken) Dean Winchester is, all things considered (and we do mean all things, as those books spare few details), he's doing pretty damn well for himself.
Or, at least, John thinks he is. Aside from a scant text here or there, Dean's been mostly incommunicado. It happens, though, he knows it does. People get into moods, they get busy, something comes up. It's likely the excuse is entirely innocent and Blake's just overreacting, but he worries. It's kind of his thing, isn't it?
He skips ahead. As he reads, he picks out the familiar names. Castiel. Gabriel. Bobby. Crowley. Jo. Lucifer. Death. Meg. The list goes on, and Blake's that much more aware of their presence now that he's read about them, lived with them, and read about them again. More of that perspective he's so desperate for. Judging for himself is getting harder, after all, as more and more lines are drawn that waver outside of the typical black and white.
When Castiel beats Dean in the alley, a cold spot forms in Blake's chest, and when Dean begs for death, it only expands out and encompasses the entirety of him. He realizes he has no trouble hearing it said in his friend's voice. It's startling. The pressure must have been tremendous for him to feel that desperate. Pages later, after dispatching of Zachariah, the moment shared between Sam and Dean helps warm Blake some, but not quite enough. It just doesn't feel like adequate gain for all that sacrifice.
When the time comes, he mourns for Gabriel, too, and he wonders on the theme of brothers. It's rife through the novels, a strong focus on so many levels. With no frame of reference, understanding the complexity of sibling relationships does not come easy for John. He imagines the devotion is the same as any family member, but the motivation and the goals and the ambitions seem to be where the real differences are made, where the real relationship's determined.
For the archangel, it's about saving someone he loves, saving some part of himself, and having faith in people. In humanity. About equality and understanding, about family (a less foreign subject for Blake these last couple months) and at the end of the day, the sacrifice is a hard sacrifice, but necessary, and one he clearly knows he's going to be making.
Gabriel takes a stand
It doesn't further them much in the books, but it's enough momentum that Blake doesn't feel as if no end is in sight. Baby steps are always out of the question; when approaching the end of the world, it's not as if there's much of a choice.
The next bit goes so quickly, page after page, as Blake takes in a story he's read before, but feels differently about now. Crowley's cunning. Bobby's rational. Dean's desperate. And finding out how thoroughly the Winchesters' lives are manipulated by people that aren't them leaves Blake outraged.
What if you guys lead the devil to the edge and I jump in?
One action — just one leap.
Sam has a lifetime of experiences affected and molded, he realizes, and once more his hand is being forced by someone else. Blake can only imagine how difficult it was... Is. Those hard decisions have to be made.
Sam takes a stand.
And later, Death seems reasonable. This surprises Blake more each time through. It's easy to think Death might not be reasonable. It's easy to attribute actions and attitudes without knowing a person. And this is what so many people do. Even the people he's reading about are guilty of it. Even the person reading is guilty of it.
He was very wrong about Dean Winchester at one point. He had guessed that Dean wanted out of the game, but the true depth of that desire still isn't clear. He's getting closer, he thinks, but one thing is clear: there's obviously a hell of a lot more going on than he thinks there is, in any case.
So, I need a promise. You're going to let your brother jump right into that fiery pit.
Well? Do I have your word?
Dean won't promise that. He can't. But he does. And he lies, because he knows he can't keep that promise, but...
Okay, yeah.
Yes.
Dean takes a stand.
Blake knows how it ends, but it doesn't fail to grip him. The story's good. Sad, but compelling. And real. That's the hardest part to understand. The books might be ridiculous in look and practice, but the stories are raw. The stories are all pieces of his best friend's life, and just that's more than enough to keep John invested.
The last book might actually be his favorite. The first time through, he'd felt exhilarated at the finish, as if the time invested was paid off, and paid off well. It had left him with an impression, he remembers, but months later, he can't quite recall the feeling so easily.
The author frames the book cleverly, with sweeping passages about Dean's car that make Blake smile instinctively. He's never had a chance to ride in that particular Impala, but he knows of it, has seen it around Wonderland, and easily appreciates it for the sleek automobile it is. Perhaps it bears noting that the second time around, he feels the real importance of that link between man and machine and memory.
And then there's Sam. John doesn't know him nearly as well as he'd like to, but he feels like he gets the picture. Sam Winchester's a good kid and he, like Dean, doesn't deserve such hardship. But he certainly steps up like a hero.
You got to promise not to try to bring me back.
You go find Lisa. You pray to God she's dumb enough to take you in.
You go live some normal, apple pie life, Dean.
Promise me.
Sam takes a stand.
It comes as something of a relief to Blake, who is just as convinced it won't happen the second time through. But Sam reminds Dean that there's more to life than hunting and revenge and living life as a broken man. It's a good lesson, and arguably one that Blake thinks more people need to learn. Blake included.
Naturally, Dean finds himself there in the thick of it. There's no break, no night to spend contemplating the end, just one giant step after another. And they're almost there. They've almost got Lucifer where they want him, even if Sam has to drink all that demon blood, and Bobby has to be soulless, and Dean has to give up his brother.
You gotta go now! Come on! Go now, Sammy!
Dean takes a stand.
Well, if we've already lost, I guess I got nothing to lose, right? ...I ain't gonna let him die alone.
Dean takes a stand.
Sam, it's okay.
It's okay. I'm here. I'm here. I'm not gonna leave you.
I'm not gonna leave you.
Dean takes a stand.
Hey, Lisa...
Uh, if it's not too late, I think I'd like to take you up on that beer.
Dean takes a stand, and Blake knows that it's not the end, that the victory is probably hollow, but he's glad for it nevertheless. Sam is gone. Adam is gone. Castiel's returned, Bobby's returned, but it's not enough, is it? It's not quite what Dean needs.
He likes Lisa and Ben. Blake really likes them, actually, because they represent something more than chasing mantles and suffering fate. They're the oasis, Lisa with her dark hair and dark eyes, Ben with his easy charisma and familiar smile.
It's stability. It's devotion. It's relief. It's retribution.
Where the book ends, John's left staring at the final page, resolutely blank. If this really is the end to the story, he thinks he'd be okay with it. Dean lost Sam, yes, but he isn't alone. And he isn't hunting. Dean's choosing to live a normal life with a beautiful woman and a sharp kid, and how can that life ever approach the complexity and angst of the one he's just left behind? It seems like the right choice, and Blake knows that's the reason for the heaviness in his chest.
Dean makes the right choice, and yet he's still at it, isn't he? Somehow Sam comes back, somehow Dean takes arms against Heaven and Hell. Again. Somehow, he gets pulled back in.
He never really stops taking a stand, does it? Whatever it takes, John Blake fears, is the moral of Dean's story and it breaks his heart. Not even a little. A lot.
Blake closes the book resolutely and pushes up from his chair. After a long afternoon of reading, he's stiff and maybe a bit sore, but determined nonetheless. A quick note is messily scrawled on some scrap paper and John marches it up to the fifth floor, following a familiar track right to Dean's door almost directly above his own.
It's been too long since he's seen his best friend. He's all about giving people the space they need, but this is getting to a level where John worries that Winchester might be approaching shut-in status when he doesn't have some project nipping at his heels. Everyone needs a kick in the butt, right? Or, perhaps if Castiel's one to follow, a beat-down in an alley.
In any case, it won't be happening now, but Blake thinks he can ensure the opportunity will arise in the near future, just by slipping a note under the door.
Blake takes a stand.
Dean,
Let's take a drive. I'm calling shotgun.
-Blake
As Blake flips to the next passage, he takes pause. In the time that his eyes track from the last word on the current page to the first word on the next, he lets out a long, careful breath. He's read it all before, none of it's a surprise, but time changes things. Inevitably, something about the non-stop march forward, the unceasing ticking of the clock, always shifts views and alters perspectives. In this case, John's had a lot more time to think.
He likes Lisa and Ben. Something about the characters— the people (he sometimes forgets they're real people)— strikes him as genuine: every bit real life to people who rarely live a real life. In every instance they're mentioned, it's positive in some way. Sad, but positive, which is decidedly not a typical theme in the books, which are best described as just heartbreaking, if content's anything to be judged.
And then Dean leaves them. He leaves Ben and Lisa.
...But I wanted you to know that when I do picture myself happy, it's with you. And the kid.
Dean takes a stand.
It sticks with John, twists tendrils of hurt around his heart and holds on. He's never had to give up something like that, can't imagine how much it's gotta hurt, and when he considers how well-adjusted (albeit broken) Dean Winchester is, all things considered (and we do mean all things, as those books spare few details), he's doing pretty damn well for himself.
Or, at least, John thinks he is. Aside from a scant text here or there, Dean's been mostly incommunicado. It happens, though, he knows it does. People get into moods, they get busy, something comes up. It's likely the excuse is entirely innocent and Blake's just overreacting, but he worries. It's kind of his thing, isn't it?
He skips ahead. As he reads, he picks out the familiar names. Castiel. Gabriel. Bobby. Crowley. Jo. Lucifer. Death. Meg. The list goes on, and Blake's that much more aware of their presence now that he's read about them, lived with them, and read about them again. More of that perspective he's so desperate for. Judging for himself is getting harder, after all, as more and more lines are drawn that waver outside of the typical black and white.
When Castiel beats Dean in the alley, a cold spot forms in Blake's chest, and when Dean begs for death, it only expands out and encompasses the entirety of him. He realizes he has no trouble hearing it said in his friend's voice. It's startling. The pressure must have been tremendous for him to feel that desperate. Pages later, after dispatching of Zachariah, the moment shared between Sam and Dean helps warm Blake some, but not quite enough. It just doesn't feel like adequate gain for all that sacrifice.
When the time comes, he mourns for Gabriel, too, and he wonders on the theme of brothers. It's rife through the novels, a strong focus on so many levels. With no frame of reference, understanding the complexity of sibling relationships does not come easy for John. He imagines the devotion is the same as any family member, but the motivation and the goals and the ambitions seem to be where the real differences are made, where the real relationship's determined.
For the archangel, it's about saving someone he loves, saving some part of himself, and having faith in people. In humanity. About equality and understanding, about family (a less foreign subject for Blake these last couple months) and at the end of the day, the sacrifice is a hard sacrifice, but necessary, and one he clearly knows he's going to be making.
Gabriel takes a stand
It doesn't further them much in the books, but it's enough momentum that Blake doesn't feel as if no end is in sight. Baby steps are always out of the question; when approaching the end of the world, it's not as if there's much of a choice.
The next bit goes so quickly, page after page, as Blake takes in a story he's read before, but feels differently about now. Crowley's cunning. Bobby's rational. Dean's desperate. And finding out how thoroughly the Winchesters' lives are manipulated by people that aren't them leaves Blake outraged.
What if you guys lead the devil to the edge and I jump in?
One action — just one leap.
Sam has a lifetime of experiences affected and molded, he realizes, and once more his hand is being forced by someone else. Blake can only imagine how difficult it was... Is. Those hard decisions have to be made.
Sam takes a stand.
And later, Death seems reasonable. This surprises Blake more each time through. It's easy to think Death might not be reasonable. It's easy to attribute actions and attitudes without knowing a person. And this is what so many people do. Even the people he's reading about are guilty of it. Even the person reading is guilty of it.
He was very wrong about Dean Winchester at one point. He had guessed that Dean wanted out of the game, but the true depth of that desire still isn't clear. He's getting closer, he thinks, but one thing is clear: there's obviously a hell of a lot more going on than he thinks there is, in any case.
So, I need a promise. You're going to let your brother jump right into that fiery pit.
Well? Do I have your word?
Dean won't promise that. He can't. But he does. And he lies, because he knows he can't keep that promise, but...
Okay, yeah.
Yes.
Dean takes a stand.
Blake knows how it ends, but it doesn't fail to grip him. The story's good. Sad, but compelling. And real. That's the hardest part to understand. The books might be ridiculous in look and practice, but the stories are raw. The stories are all pieces of his best friend's life, and just that's more than enough to keep John invested.
The last book might actually be his favorite. The first time through, he'd felt exhilarated at the finish, as if the time invested was paid off, and paid off well. It had left him with an impression, he remembers, but months later, he can't quite recall the feeling so easily.
The author frames the book cleverly, with sweeping passages about Dean's car that make Blake smile instinctively. He's never had a chance to ride in that particular Impala, but he knows of it, has seen it around Wonderland, and easily appreciates it for the sleek automobile it is. Perhaps it bears noting that the second time around, he feels the real importance of that link between man and machine and memory.
And then there's Sam. John doesn't know him nearly as well as he'd like to, but he feels like he gets the picture. Sam Winchester's a good kid and he, like Dean, doesn't deserve such hardship. But he certainly steps up like a hero.
You got to promise not to try to bring me back.
You go find Lisa. You pray to God she's dumb enough to take you in.
You go live some normal, apple pie life, Dean.
Promise me.
Sam takes a stand.
It comes as something of a relief to Blake, who is just as convinced it won't happen the second time through. But Sam reminds Dean that there's more to life than hunting and revenge and living life as a broken man. It's a good lesson, and arguably one that Blake thinks more people need to learn. Blake included.
Naturally, Dean finds himself there in the thick of it. There's no break, no night to spend contemplating the end, just one giant step after another. And they're almost there. They've almost got Lucifer where they want him, even if Sam has to drink all that demon blood, and Bobby has to be soulless, and Dean has to give up his brother.
You gotta go now! Come on! Go now, Sammy!
Dean takes a stand.
Well, if we've already lost, I guess I got nothing to lose, right? ...I ain't gonna let him die alone.
Dean takes a stand.
Sam, it's okay.
It's okay. I'm here. I'm here. I'm not gonna leave you.
I'm not gonna leave you.
Dean takes a stand.
Hey, Lisa...
Uh, if it's not too late, I think I'd like to take you up on that beer.
Dean takes a stand, and Blake knows that it's not the end, that the victory is probably hollow, but he's glad for it nevertheless. Sam is gone. Adam is gone. Castiel's returned, Bobby's returned, but it's not enough, is it? It's not quite what Dean needs.
He likes Lisa and Ben. Blake really likes them, actually, because they represent something more than chasing mantles and suffering fate. They're the oasis, Lisa with her dark hair and dark eyes, Ben with his easy charisma and familiar smile.
It's stability. It's devotion. It's relief. It's retribution.
Where the book ends, John's left staring at the final page, resolutely blank. If this really is the end to the story, he thinks he'd be okay with it. Dean lost Sam, yes, but he isn't alone. And he isn't hunting. Dean's choosing to live a normal life with a beautiful woman and a sharp kid, and how can that life ever approach the complexity and angst of the one he's just left behind? It seems like the right choice, and Blake knows that's the reason for the heaviness in his chest.
Dean makes the right choice, and yet he's still at it, isn't he? Somehow Sam comes back, somehow Dean takes arms against Heaven and Hell. Again. Somehow, he gets pulled back in.
He never really stops taking a stand, does it? Whatever it takes, John Blake fears, is the moral of Dean's story and it breaks his heart. Not even a little. A lot.
Blake closes the book resolutely and pushes up from his chair. After a long afternoon of reading, he's stiff and maybe a bit sore, but determined nonetheless. A quick note is messily scrawled on some scrap paper and John marches it up to the fifth floor, following a familiar track right to Dean's door almost directly above his own.
It's been too long since he's seen his best friend. He's all about giving people the space they need, but this is getting to a level where John worries that Winchester might be approaching shut-in status when he doesn't have some project nipping at his heels. Everyone needs a kick in the butt, right? Or, perhaps if Castiel's one to follow, a beat-down in an alley.
In any case, it won't be happening now, but Blake thinks he can ensure the opportunity will arise in the near future, just by slipping a note under the door.
Blake takes a stand.
Dean,
Let's take a drive. I'm calling shotgun.
-Blake