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Me, I don't. :;shudders:: The toy one in Poltergeist? AAAAAH!
Last week's wasn't scary. Sad, but not scary. This one was scary as hell and pure, classic Supernatural (if you can say that after one season) but still with that unsettled, itchy crawly on the back of the neck uneasiness.
The car. Oh, God the car. Working on it, the borrowed van, the shameful soccer mom badge of normal before they ventured into the world of the freaks, the outsiders. Gabba, gabba, hey and all that.
They belong with the freaks but they weren't recognised as belonging. Even at the roadhouse, they were attacked, suspected, hurt.
Something isn't right.
The terror of the deaths lay for me in the children who had, both of them, to live with the knowledge, however imperfectly understood, that it was all their fault.
I think there has to be some malign magic going on; those kids were too old to let a stranger into the house in the middle of the night; they would know better, but it won't matter.
In the end, though, the hunt was to while away those 51 hours (love MIT guy; he made me grin.) The 51 hours counting down, not really to the comfort of the demon-tracking device, but Dean's meltdown.
No hug. No shoulders. No connection between them as they walk side by side and alone through, literally the Valley of the Shadow of Death.
And in the end, Dean destroys what he loves, the gift from his father, because he can't bring it/him back, not the way it was.
Some things you lose for good, consumed in fire (oh, God, yes) or smashed out of shape.
And the end broke me more than last week's did.
Last week's wasn't scary. Sad, but not scary. This one was scary as hell and pure, classic Supernatural (if you can say that after one season) but still with that unsettled, itchy crawly on the back of the neck uneasiness.
The car. Oh, God the car. Working on it, the borrowed van, the shameful soccer mom badge of normal before they ventured into the world of the freaks, the outsiders. Gabba, gabba, hey and all that.
They belong with the freaks but they weren't recognised as belonging. Even at the roadhouse, they were attacked, suspected, hurt.
Something isn't right.
The terror of the deaths lay for me in the children who had, both of them, to live with the knowledge, however imperfectly understood, that it was all their fault.
I think there has to be some malign magic going on; those kids were too old to let a stranger into the house in the middle of the night; they would know better, but it won't matter.
In the end, though, the hunt was to while away those 51 hours (love MIT guy; he made me grin.) The 51 hours counting down, not really to the comfort of the demon-tracking device, but Dean's meltdown.
No hug. No shoulders. No connection between them as they walk side by side and alone through, literally the Valley of the Shadow of Death.
And in the end, Dean destroys what he loves, the gift from his father, because he can't bring it/him back, not the way it was.
Some things you lose for good, consumed in fire (oh, God, yes) or smashed out of shape.
And the end broke me more than last week's did.
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