Supernatural’s mid-season premiere “Nihilism” was an astonishingly rich hour, and for good reason — it saw much of the action take place inside Dean Winchester’s mind.
Shot by actor/director Amanda Tapping, who also guest stars on Supernatural as the angel Naomi, and penned by pedantic producer Steve Yockey, “Nihilism” picks up right where the show’s mid-season finale “The Spear” left off — with the archangel Michael, who has just mobilised a monster army that he has psychic control over via his grace, repossessing Dean when he least expects it.
Despite the shock of the situation, Sam, Castiel and Jack are able to temporarily subdue Michael in the way they’d initially planned, with holy oil and spelled handcuffs, and, thanks to a handy throwback to the Yockey-established fact that the Winchesters always have one of Death’s reapers spying on them, ready to report back on their many crises, the group is teleported to the Bunker by that higher power, and they immediately get to work on saving Dean.
Finding and combining perfectly functional tools dropped in dusty corners of the show’s vast canon shed in order to create a story that’s rich and recursive in all the right ways is something of a Yockey speciality, so it’s no surprise that “Nihilism” sees Sam meld the idea behind his own recovery from non-consensual angel possession — Crowley entering his mind on Dean’s behalf to help Sam cast out Gadreel in season 9’s “Road Trip” — with Dean’s journey into Mary’s subconscious when she was brainwashed by the British Men of Letters, on his mission to find Dean’s conciousness and help him to overcome Michael.
It’s a rather brilliant plan, made even more powerful by the realization that the only place in which the episode eschews its iron-clad internal logic in order to prioritize the heart element is when Castiel’s presence alongside Sam’s on this quest is taken as an absolute given by all parties.
How Cas — facing an issue that is specifically dealing with angelic possession and consent — is able to “hitch a ride” into Dean’s head with Sam I actually have no idea, but I don’t care one bit, because the choice to handwave those logistics in the interest of inclusion represents yet more proof of the mindset that Team Free Will are an inseparable trifecta of unconditionally committed equals these days, rather than two messed-up stuck-together siblings and a duty-bound fallen angel.
I’ve written plenty about how this sentiment is crucial to the growth of the show as a whole, but it’s also very important when it comes to some specifics about the showdown between Dean and Michael this episode, which we will get to in just a moment.
First, we need to talk about Dean himself, and why the ways that Michael was able to bury him so completely inside his own mind are so revelatory. When Michael retook Dean in the mid-season finale, Dean, having experienced this violation before and been absolutely worn out by it, is unable to fight him off physically or mentally — and because Michael has been biding his time, studying Dean’s mind, his movements and his life, he is extremely prepared with a new master plan to tame his perfect vessel.
We learn about it well before Sam and Cas do — we’re with Dean from the very start of the episode, in a cold open of his mental imprisonment, which turns out to be, instead of torment, a very pleasant false reality, in which Dean owns a watering hole called Rocky’s and has a ton of fun as a barkeep and businessman, becoming something akin to a new Ellen Harvelle with a Roadhouse-like homey hunter hub of his very own.
Given that we’ve experienced something like this on Supernatural before — with Sam and Gadreel — many fans expected to see Dean trapped in a dream long ago, after his first possession. Instead, we learnt that Michael initially shook Dean off because he didn’t have Dean suppressed in this way — instead, he was merely forcing a conscious Dean down, effectively sitting on him to establish dominion.
When Dean’s constant attempts to claw back control became too much of a pain in the ass, Michael dropped him. The show’s cast and creators have long promised that Michael’s story would be paced out in ways we didn’t expect, and here is proof — this was clearly always the plan for the scope of the season, and though there’s clearly so much more to come, the payoff was so worth it, just for this.
Rocky’s Bar is stuck in a loop. Dean has a enjoyable and unexpected friend to joke around with as they’re constantly waiting for Sam and Cas to walk through the door after a ghoul hunt, he gets to turn down a potential buyer over and over again, and he gets to easily kill a couple of vamps who come into his place with a score to settle. He is, as he says, living the dream, and every single part of this dream is hugely significant to Dean’s character as a whole.
Whether Michael manifested Rocky’s in its entirety after overturning every one of Dean’s secrets, or whether he created an empty dreamscape that Dean’s own subconscious filled, the fact of the matter is that it worked. Whomever the architect, in order for that contentment and compliance it to be effective, in order to keep Dean distracted and locked away, it all had to come from a place deep inside Dean and represent a culmination of so many realistic yet idyllic desires.
“I’ve never had anything this nice.”
From the stuffed moose and squirrel and the monkey from Harvelle’s Roadhouse to the original Impala plates and Jensen Ackles’s own craft beers on tap, Rocky’s Bar is full of incredible easter eggs to make Dean feel at home, but the first question is, of course, why a bar at all?
This isn’t a glimpse at a secret long-held desire of Dean’s that we already knew about, even in recent years where he’s begun to speak of a potential future. It’s an entirely new idea, and yet, it is, in this perception, “the dream.”
But honestly, when you think about Dean, who he really is and what he really wants in contrast to what he puts out into the world, it makes so much sense on almost a spiritual level. Rocky’s might not have been an actualized fantasy that Dean already held, but everything it represents is an insight into what circumstances would make Dean happy enough to sink into the lie.
When you examine the role of a bartender as a trope, it’s as a friend to all. For some, a facilitator of fun, for others, a dependable outlet when they need a listening ear. Dean himself has experienced those bonding moments from the other side of the bar enough times to know the drill. It is, of course an incredibly social job — owning a bar depends on creating a space where people feel welcome and comfortable.
We don’t see Dean interacting with his fictional regulars, as he is unknowingly stuck living the same evening over and over again, but presumably, in the hazy reality outside of his loop, he believes that he has them, and he’s poured his energy and finances into providing comfort, hospitality, and connection to the community he’s invited into his life and his place of business.
He has specifically crafted a space and a role in which his primary occupation is one of service, one that makes people happy — in short, he’s free to nurture and offer emotional support not just to his closest family but to everyone he meets. It’s the role he was born to play.
There’s also the autonomy factor to consider. Dean apparently owns Rocky’s — it’s his, just how he likes it. He can control every element of it, even without magical mind powers, and he appears to have enormous fulfilment sheerly knowing that he has something like this.
He even seems to enjoy the mundane paperwork, and there’s a huge significance to the businesswoman looking to buy the property, in Dean’s loop – she’s there so Dean can turn her down over and over again, reinforcing the thrill of having — and getting to keep — something so great, the permanence of his own personal kingdom that he gets to share with the world by choice. And the chance of a choice at all is part of the most important element.
“I’m psychic, so I kinda know.”
Of course, Dean isn’t alone in his dream — he would never be happy alone. Aside from the fact that he’s expecting his brother and angel to return to the fold any moment now, he’s also joined at Rocky’s by a long-dead kindred spirit — Pamela Barnes.
What an absolutely incredible choice of companion to give to Dean in this circumstance. Thunderbird Dinwiddie’s appearance was a total secret, and I am thrilled to have not been spoiled for it.
Pamela was killed 10 seasons ago, in season 4, but her presence was a powerful one — and not just because of her white-hot chemistry with Dean. I’ve always held the belief that those two could have had it all, but this episode — and the complex Pamela projection that came from Dean’s imagination — offered a different, but equally interesting angle.
“Nihilism” is quick to establish that Dean and Pamela are not a couple and that they don’t actually want to be — they’re just good friends who enjoy flirting playfully for the hell of it.
And the reason that this matters is because Pamela pulls the psychic card to call Dean out on his flirtations — she knows that it’s not real, and that’s okay. What this proves has very little to do with relationship status — that conversation is merely a vehicle to highlight the higher significance of why Pamela’s presence, in particular, is such a telling reveal about Dean.
In Dean’s dream reality, his bartending BFF, his constant companion, is a platonic female friend who is also a psychic. Which means that she knows the truth of Dean. She knows when he is bullshitting. Dean is not pressured to be performative around her in any way, because she is someone with whom he literally cannot be anything other than his true and honest self. I mean, the math is right there.
Dean craves the chance to take off his armor and just be the sweet, social, sensitive person that he is — the person he has never felt safe or secure enough to wholeheartedly be. He wants to be known. He wants to let people know him. He wants to be loved and accepted and free to be himself, and in this circumstance, Pamela is the perfect person to provide that.
Pamela’s powers also serve another important purpose in Dean’s dreamscape — she’s able to warn for danger, and together they’re able to safely and satisfactorily dispatch a few pesky vamp that invade the bar.
Dean hasn’t left hunting behind — knowing what he knows, he could never walk away — but his involvement is limited to easy wins with regular monsters and standard hunter stakes, which is a very different situation from the world of cosmic chaos that he currently inhabits. The weight of the world is no longer his responsibility, and that’s the real meat of all this.
“I know you. I am you.”
Much of “Nihilism’s” conflict comes from Michael’s abuse of his access to Dean. Michael might be one of the most powerful beings in creation, sure, but he tends to rely on bluffing more than anything else. Most of the episode sees Michael fairly powerless.
In reality, he is restrained, and actually doesn’t seem capable of breaking free — he’s instead waiting for his monsters to come and help him — and when he appears in Rocky’s, he, like the others, is merely a mental projection. His cosmic abilities are not on hand. So instead, he wields a much more powerful tool against those trying to part him from his vessel — he weaponizes Dean’s love.
Every step of the way, Michael attempts to crack Team Free Will — even Dean himself — by hurting them with things he claims that he knows, for a fact, Dean secretly believes. But there’s enough direct contradiction between what he tells each person to prove that it’s actually just twisted nonsense.
To Jack, Michael purports that Dean doesn’t really love him, that he’ll never matter like Sam or Cas matters, that he’s merely a new burden that Dean was handed. Castiel, of course, is firm with the kid when he asserts the importance of ignoring Michael, but he himself wobbles at Michael’s verbal “proof” of Cas’s greatest terrors about how Dean feels about all his mistakes, especially given the presence of Pamela — the first of Dean’s friends that Cas caused damage to.
Michael’s claims about Dean’s resentment of Sam are even more absurd, but again, hit home for some worst-case scenarios of each Winchester’s prior baggage, and it becomes apparent that rather than exposing Dean’s secret inner truths, Michael is merely exploiting his access to Dean by tapping into what he knows to be the group’s worst fears about one other, the things that they pray the others don’t believe.
The fact that Sam and Cas are constantly on their way home to Rocky’s unequivocally disproves the idea that Michael’s taunting about his wish to be rid of them legitimacy. Even if there was ever the slightest grain, a passing thought or memory of pain that causes resentment, we have all had these thoughts for a split second — it is natural, but it isn’t actually the core drive in Dean that creates the real discord and dismay he has about his own life circumstances.
Despite being momentarily affected by the fears and memories of his own failings, Cas was spot on when he called Michael out for stalling. But the most effective lies always contain a grain of truth, and I believe the reason that Dean is left lost for words, with only a furious “shut up” instead of a true denial isn’t anything to do with fleeting, fearful moments of resentment towards his family.
It’s simply because at the end of the day, Dean is oppressively burdened by responsibilities. That fact is why the bar fantasy worked. That’s why it gave him a contentment he’d never known. But the burdens that Dean wishes to be free of are NOT the specifics that Michael mentioned, and as I mentioned earlier, Team Free Will are unbreakable these days — it’d take way more than Michael to turn them against one another.
And of course, Sam absolutely nailed the assessment of his brother when lost in the darkness of his mind. It’s not shocking by any stretch that Sam would be savvy to this fact about Dean, but it’s still gratifying to hear aloud — Dean does thrive on trauma. It does keep him alert and capable of handling whatever is thrown at him. And that’s exactly what makes the Rocky’s universe such an unknown pleasure for Dean.
In the world of Rocky’s, Dean was at peace knowing that Sam and Cas were due back through that door any minute. And again, whether Michael built every piece or whether Dean manifested all the details is irrelevant. Whoever the creator, that knowledge of Dean’s most important people being just around the corner was a necessity in the architecture of the lie, and he was very happy to see them when they arrived, vibing nothing unusual in a world that was created to placate him.
The dream is meant to be a loop in which they never arrive, but it’s built on the premise that Dean feels comfortable about their wellbeing in their temporary absence. He’s not expected to be responsible for them, or for the world. He’s not helicopter parenting or micro-managing. He just wants to pour them a beer for a job well done on their ghoul hunt.
Because Michael’s plan relies on Dean not being alert, he has Dean living in a world where he can afford to not be alert — not because he feels less for his loved ones, but because the stakes are obviously lower, and because he’s actually been relieved of the immense degree of self-sacrificing duty and has found a modicum of self-care.
He’s trusting his family with reasonable expectations regarding their abilities and safety, he’s relatively relaxed, waiting to welcome them home. Owning Rocky’s is a responsibility that Dean thinks he has chosen — from that perspective, responsibility becomes an honor rather than a burden.
Dean wants to be able to choose his commitments, and not be living in a constant state of hyper-conscious pressure and paranoia fueled by decades of trauma. To have mild worries about the consequences of running out of limes, rather than crushing anxieties about being solely and individually responsible for the future of the universe because his strength of will is the only barrier between the world and a megalomaniacal archangel who wants to end it.
I mean, fair call, Dean. No jury would convict you for wanting to shuck off that kind of accountability.
“I got him. I’m the Cage.”
And so it seems like we will have to return to Rocky’s at some point in the near-future, as Dean has used his purpose-built prison as just that, trapping Michael’s consciousness inside a coolroom and suppressing him, rather than expelling him out into the world to wreak havoc.
Once again, Dean becomes the firewall between light and darkness — deeply ironic, given Michael’s titularly nihilistic declarations about Chuck and his abandoned drafts, which I personally believe to be 100% true and valid.
Jensen Ackles, who always does well when offered a mirror as his scene partner, gives a stunning and intimate performance upon Dean’s return to reality, visibly shifting the meaning in his repetitions of “it’s just you, it’s all you” from reassurance of his own reclamation of self to responsibility — once again — for the fate of the world.
I didn’t need Billie — that is, Death — to show up and tell Dean just how dangerous this choice was in order to know that it’s is obviously going to take a toll fast, but it was sure nice to see her again, toting one of her “upbeat classics” predicting Dean’s death and bending the rules to offer him a solution. Dean tends to have that effect on all-powerful beings, in case you haven’t noticed.
Because as empowering as Dean’s victory is — “my mind, my rules” — it’s also somewhat of a Pyrrhic one. Michael bashing away at Dean’s psyche is not only a fun mental health metaphor, it’s also simply, in the reality of Supernatural, not sustainable.
No human mind, no matter how strong, no matter what it has withstood before, can live with that kind of cosmic intrusion as a permanent fixture. Dean will have to dedicate more and more energy simply to a battle of wills, and it’s going to make his engagement with the world around him very fragile, so a solution to the rattling door in Rocky’s Bar better materialize, pronto.
And if it does? Perhaps one day down the road, Dean will give himself permission to go searching for that rainbow — for real.