Spoilers for 7X18 under the cut. And lots of thought-process rambling.
Okay, I was a little upset with last week's episode. Don't get me wrong...I adored all but the last five minutes, h/c addict that I am. I might have had my hopes up...or down...with this show, I don't always know which is which.
But I really didn't like Sam's hell!angst getting whammied into Cas. (Who I didn't mind, btw! I was kind of surprisingly okay with seeing him back.)
Afterwards, I was mad...and weirdly, it hurt my feelings. I didn't even re-watch or look for promos. Yeah, I know...holding a grudge.
Instead, I watched Suits this week. And read Suits fic. And started watching a couple episodes of Game of Thrones. And thought, maybe I don't need this show any more. Maybe I've moved on....there are other fandoms. Maybe this is how you break up with a show you still love. You make yourself move on...read fanfic that doesn't star Sam and Dean.
So I decided that I would watch Friday's episode, but I wouldn't enjoy it much. It was just a filler and all. Maybe it'll be amusing - I'm not feeling well, so I'm staying home anyway...might as well stream the thing.
And it was mildly amusing. I didn't mind Garth. I didn't mind Sam being mentally intact as much as I thought I would. And then the boys were getting drunk and clinking glasses and waving swords, and that was kind of cool.
But when they started talking about Bobby and grief, it resonated. It hit me hard, how invested I am and am going to be until they turn out the lights. Suits (and White Collar and H50) is pleasant, but it is just not my show.
And then. That last scene. I cried.