What Even Was Supernatural? 10 Years Ago, “Fan Fiction” Dared to Answer

How do you even begin to tackle Supernatural?

The horror TV series about two brothers hunting supernatural creatures that first aired on The WB (which would later become The CW Network) in 2005 grew from a monster-of-the-week romp to a television juggernaut. During its 15 seasons the show witnessed the birth of social media (and later became one of the biggest fandoms on Tumblr, which did not exist when the show aired). Supernatural existed through three different presidential administrations, the shift of television to the streaming model, a pandemic, and on the eve before Joe Biden was announced as the winner of the 2020 Presidential election the series finally culminated in the sentence “One of the characters professed his love for another man and then immediately got sent to super hell.” 

Supernatural was not just an unexpected hit, it may be the biggest unexpected and unusual hit TV show in history. 

And now, on the days following another election, Supernatural celebrates another anniversary. It has been 10 years since its 200th episode was broadcast: “Fan Fiction.” The episode takes Sam and Dean Winchester to an all-girls high school putting on a musical based on the events of their lives, inspired by the in-universe Supernatural books written about their adventures. The episode also serves as a double fourth-wall breaking reference to the large fan fiction-writing fandom that Supernatural created.

But a decade later, “Fan Fiction” is not an ordinary celebration. The episode is a cohesive meditations on the relationship between fans and the work they admire. It toes the fine line between fan service and authorial control. And it dares to ask the never-answered question: who does a story belong to?

Before “Fan Fiction,” Supernatural had a long history of fourth wall-breaking moments. In Season 4 the show introduced the character of Chuck Shurley, an author of pulp novels that detail the events of the TV show Supernatural who is revealed to be a prophet of God. There’s also the Season 6 episode “The French Mistake,” which sees Sam and Dean pushed into an alternate reality where they are the actors Jared Padalecki and Jenson Ackles on the set of a TV series called Supernatural. 

But “Fan Fiction” takes on the fandom more than the source material. The whole episode is filled with references that only true fans would know. The entire premise of doing a musical episode was a long-time in-joke and a common request from fans to the creators on the convention circuit. The episode references popular fan pairings like Destiel (Dean and the angel Castiel) and Wincest (the controversial incestual pairing between Sam and Dean).

The writers use “Fan Fiction” as a chance to get on the same page with the audience. The episode also references plot holes and forgotten developments, like the fact the brothers abandoned their third brother in Hell five seasons ago or that the plot of the show since Season 5 really went off the walls (after Dean explains the events of those seasons to one of the characters, she calls the story “garbage.”)

Fan service is not just references. It involves giving the people what they want. And “Fan Fiction” delivers an extra special treat to the audience: the return of Chuck Shurley at the end of the episode, who had been absent from the show for five seasons. The last time Chuck was seen he vanished into nothingness, with the show insinuating the prophet was actually God himself (this would be confirmed a few seasons later). It was a rewarding moment that would later pay off when God became the ultimate villain of the series by its final season (they ran out of anyone more powerful by that point, believe me).

The episode only features a few songs that are played almost entirely for comedy. A personal favorite is “Single Man Tear,” which references the restrained masculine way Dean cries in emotional moments (and the way the show chooses to write its melodramatic brother conversations). There’s also “I’ll Just Wait Here Then,” a lovely Castiel anthem that really speaks to the sudden appearance and frequent sidelining of the character. 

An episode with all these elements would’ve worked just fine as a 200th episode celebration. But “Fan Fiction” takes its concept one step deeper. It’s an acknowledgment of the fandom Supernatural never thought it would have. Setting “Fan Fiction” at an all-girls high school drives home the show’s acceptance of the mostly young female audience it clearly was not courting for a show about men shooting horror monsters and demons and talking about classic rock and old cars. Teenage girls were the ones who turned Supernatural into a 15 season show.

Supernatural is also one of the few shows that can pull off something like “Fan Fiction.” Fan service can often pander and derail a series but by Season 10 Supernatural played so fast and loose with its canon and breaking the fourth wall they had an opportunity to take it to the next level. And it still establishes boundaries; one of the reasons why Supernatural never did a proper musical episode was due to the reluctance of the main cast members to sing, so in “Fan Fiction” the brothers never sing a single note.

And sure, maybe parts of “Fan Fiction” are pandering to the teenage lesbian Destiel shippers in the audience. But it’s never insulting. Compare it to one of its contemporary fandom juggernauts and fellow Superwholock member Sherlock, which earlier in 2014 also featured an episode that addressed fans shipping the main characters but treated the idea as disgusting and juvenile. Supernatural may never make its male characters kiss sincerely, but it doesn’t deny the fun for its audience to imagine such possibilities.

The purest embodiment of how Supernatural sees its teenage girl fans is when the cast of the episode’s musical begins singing “Carry on Wayward Son.” The song by Kansas is Supernatural’s anthem; it plays during every season finale. It’s also the first moment the song is heard diegetically by the Winchesters. They watch on from the wings as these kids sing a song decades older than them with the unfiltered uncritical emotion and love only a teenager can have. In that moment you see Ackles and Padalecki—and to a greater extent the entire creative team—look on with fondness for the adoration their show created.

“Fan Fiction” also takes on a much larger task: trying to tackle exactly what the show Supernatural even is. The confused faculty sponsor of the episode’s musical literally asks “what is Supernatural?” before being kidnapped by an ancient deity dressed like a scarecrow because Supernatural is so wholly itself.

The episode’s villain, a goddess named Calliope who feeds off powerful storytelling, gives one answer. She says Supernatural is about “everything,” that it’s not “some meandering piece of genre dreck, it’s epic.” In that vein, the show is fighting against the silliness that often fills its episodes. Sure, there is some stereotypical melodrama and some bottom-of-the-barrel monster picks. But the show knows it wouldn’t be running for 200 episodes if it was just something ordinary. There is a heart in Supernatural that pulls people in.

10 years later, and almost five years since Supernatural ended, “Fan Fiction” is a salute to an era of fandom and TV that got slowly chipped away. The CW is a shell of its former self. TV seasons struggle to reach 10 episodes or get renewed for three seasons, let alone 15 22 episode seasons. And those shorter windows mean less experimentation. A show airing today wouldn’t have the airtime to try crazy fourth wall-breaking episodes or unravel a plot thread just to abandon it when a better idea comes along. And while there are fandoms around today just as passionate as Supernatural fans were, there aren’t many that have so much material to draw from for fan fiction, fan art, and cast members to meet at conventions.

“Fan Fiction” is personal to me. In 2014, I was nearing the end of my relationship with Supernatural. I was in my freshman year of high school. I watched seasons 1-8 on Netflix in middle school. I even went to a Supernatural convention in 2013. But when I watched Season 9, I didn’t feel the passion I had just a few months earlier. I was starting to think critically. I could tell the writing and special effects just weren’t what they used to be. The melodrama was getting stale. After the Season 9 finale, I decided I would stop watching.

But then I heard about “Fan Fiction,” an episode for the fans. After all the time and attention I had put into Supernatural, I thought I should watch the celebration. So I watched “Fan Fiction.” And it was the last episode of Supernatural I watched. I wasn’t insulted but it confirmed something I already knew. I was getting older. I had grown up. I had moved on.

Who does a show belong to? In my opinion, no one and everyone. But there was always a disconnect between the show Supernatural was and the show the fans saw in it. “Fan Fiction” was the bridge. It doesn’t decide exactly what Supernatural is but rather that it exists to mean something for everyone involved. It accepts the show as up to interpretation, even if it was interpreted beyond what the creators ever intended. 

And that’s the answer “Fan Fiction,” gives. The episode’s teenage author delivers the show’s conclusion: “you have your version, and I have mine.” There are a million versions of Supernatural existing in a million teenage girls and grown adults and Vancouver-based writers’ minds. There’s a version of Supernatural in my mind now and a version in 14 year old me’s mind. To obsess over a piece of art means to take a little piece of it and keep it inside of yourself. “Fan Fiction” explains that Supernatural took a little piece of the audience into itself as well.

I understand Calliope wanting to feed off of potent stories and picking this one. Supernatural was released into a powerful and short-lived culture that just happened to pick this specific CW series to be the bridge between the largest shift in media and viewer habits of the 21st century. It spawned a multitude of fan fictions and careers and relationships. The energy and passion Supernatural the TV show exudes is strong. But the energy of the infinite stories Supernatural spawned could feed Calliope forever.

Leila Jordan is a writer and former jigsaw puzzle world record holder. Her work has appeared in Paste Magazine, the LA Times, Indiewire, Business Insider, Entertainment Weekly, Gold Derby, TheWrap, FOX Digital, The Spool, and Awards Radar. To talk about all things movies, TV, and useless trivia you can find her @galaxyleila

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