Early Supernatural was stale cigarette smoke, one-lane highways, weeping guitars and faded leather. It was campfire stories that kept you awake at night, nostalgia for an era you were never part of. It was grief and daddy issues but it was longing and it was hope.
New Supernatural is old blood stains covered with rust-colored paint, a crowded car and an empty bunker. It is echoing hallways and heavy footsteps, the dread of losing those few souls left alive, and the joy of waving goodbye when they’re no worse for the wear. It is loss and fear of the known instead of the unknown, but it is still longing and it is still hope.
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