stillane | Death. (Winged, that is.) And Life. (Not so much with the wings.)

Am I the only person who is inherently suspicious of the Lunesta butterfly? I mean, okay, it looks all ephemeral and flitty and shiny, but when you get right down to it, how do you know those people are asleep? No, seriously. Watch the commercial next time it's on. I dare you not to think, Butterfly of Death.

Butterfly. Of. Death, I tell you.

And in slightly less morbid news: finally caught up on Life on Mars and watched the finale last night.

I've seen some mixed responses out there, but I can say only this: oh, how I love this show.

Start-to-finish, take-no-prisoners, all out adoration. I love that the writers tried so very hard to give Sam the normal ending that he wanted all along, and then surprised themselves with how wrong it felt. I love that this particular show seemed to read me like a book, and give me exactly what I needed at every turn. Not always what I wanted in the short-term, mind you; occasionally it frustrated the daylights out of me, and kicked my embarrassment squick up one wall and down another. And yet... it always took me where it wanted to, and I always went along for the ride.

And what a ride. I mainlined season 2 mostly over the weekend, and saved just the last two episodes for yesterday. Good idea, in retrospect. The whole I've-been-set-up-please-save-me plot is one of my secret favorites, and you add in the Sam and Gene against the world vibe... I'm a goner. In particular, that chase scene in the gym had me grinning ear to ear. I liked that for a second I wasn't sure whether Sam was running with Gene or after him, and that I then felt silly for ever wondering at all.

And then the end of it all. Oh. I don't care about pace, I don't care about logic, I don't care about ambiguity. I'm easy; you give me someone to love, and let me still love them when the dust clears, and I'm yours. I love that I spent most of the episode furious at Sam, and hurting for him, and afraid. I love that the only way he can hurt these people is if they aren't people. I love that, when push comes to shove, it doesn't matter. It's not about what's real and what isn't; it's about what makes him happy, and who. He got what he'd been bucking for from the start, what logic told him he should want... he even got The Most Melancholy Happy Song Ever - and bonus points on that one, show; you managed to pick one of the three songs guaranteed to evoke a visceral response in me due to imprinting - and it still felt hollow.

I stared at my screen near tears. Oh, Sam. Sam.

And then he jumped. The man jumped off a damned building, and it made me grin like something demented.

And then Gene bitched, and Annie smiled, and they all rode off into the sunset. The end.

Just as it should be.

(I think I'll have to pass on Ashes to Ashes. This is where I want my canon to end. Or begin, as it were. Slouching toward Lower Tadfield forever.)

Still a few more days until I get my other Sam fix, with Dean chaser. *twitches with a Winchester jones*