The CW Tentpole has stayed on the air for almost 15 years by doing what few other shows have dared to do.

I have a theory: all TV shows have a shelf life of 7 years or less. After 7 years, no show can sustain itself at any kind of quality level.

Could be more or less, depending on the genre (dramas run shorter, generally 3-5 good seasons, comedies can reach 6 or 7), and premise (some shows were just designed to last for one season, and can’t float anything more, hence the dreaded sophomore slump).

But where the majority of television shows have slackened, Supernatural has soared, in ways that are in many ways mysterious and confusing to me…and, in others, perfectly clear.

My inaugural episode of Supernatural was in 2015; a solid 10 years after the show’s debut in September of 2005. It was the night before my first Comic-con, and my good friends, longtime fans of the show, played for me “The French Mistake”; a joyful, self-referential episode that, to this day, remains one of my favorite hours not only of Supernatural but of any show on TV. It took more than 3 years since that first episode to work up the courage to binge (although, if it takes 2 full months, does it really count as a binge?) the entire series to date; all 300 episodes (alright, okay, I skipped “Bugs”, but I can assure any TV writers right this minute, if you ever make an episode of anything and call it “Bugs”, I won’t watch it).

To be entirely honest, 300 of almost anything is a lot, and just by the power of probability, 300 hours of entertainment is bound to deliver more than its fair share of duds. Knowing this, in addition to my experience as a TV watcher, I had very definite expectations from this endeavor: just like every other show I’d ever watched, it would A) start rocky, finding its footing by the end of season 1, B) hit a peak either in season 1, 2 or 3, and C) decline linearly in quality from there, finally breathing its last, shaky breaths by season 6 or 7. After all, things change. Television landscapes change and, even if a show survives past those initial seasons, it’s hard to think of any show that’s truly remained at a good quality for longer, much less a 23-episode-per-season procedural, much, much less one on The CW, a channel not exactly revered for its quality entertainment.

For a long time, I really believed I had hit it spot-on, too. Seasons 1-3 were like a joyride, a whir of rock n’ roll and monsters; you know, testosterone, but in a fun way. The first seasons felt, aptly, like taking a road trip, greasy food and crappy motels and wheels on the pavement. An exciting ride, to be sure, and very well made. By season 4, though, that feeling began to subside. This marked the first crucial change in the show’s style and general premise, as it introduced angels, the concept of heavenly wars, and the show’s first miraculous and mysterious reincarnation; all things that most know later became common themes. For 99.9% of shows, a change like this would be a surefire signal of the end. The sudden shift of focus would feel uncomfortable and strange, focus on new characters would be poorly received, and I as a viewer would begin to reminisce about ‘the good old days’ of seasons past. It’s a tale as old as time…or at least as old as basic cable. That’s how it was for Supernatural, too-or, at least how it started.

Season 4 was certainly a bit of a step down in overall enjoy-ability, but it still had some standouts. Before then, the show had taken a few dips into the realm of ‘comedic’ episodes; Season 2’s “Tall Tales”, and Season 3’s “Bad Day at Black Rock” and “Mystery Spot”. All three of these episodes, while truly funny, had themes and undertones that still fit in with the show’s overarching plots, and they all had some kind of thematic lesson involved for the characters. This changed quickly with Season 4 episodes 5 and 6: “Monster Movie” and “Yellow Fever”. The former was an all B&W tribute to 50’s monster films; the show’s first real foray into the territory of adding creative twists to an episode’s form, as well as their first real ‘tribute’ episode. The latter was solely a showcase for the comedic stylings of star Jensen Ackles, and marked the first episode of the show that was funny just for the sake of being fun (and believe me, it’s fun. If I could make Dean whimpering “That was scary” my ringtone, I would). While the main plot of S4 wasn’t as thrilling as the previous 3, it continued on with a few more solid outings; namely, “Wishful Thinking”, “Sex and Violence” and “The Monster at the End of this Book”.

By season 5, though, instead of continuing the expected gradual ride downhill begun by the previous season, the show soared in quality out of the blue. Season 5 saw Supernatural settling into its new skin, per se, and ending on a high note in “Swan Song” (the highest, according to IMDb). Although I’ll never forgive them for killing off Jo like that, it’s almost like in season 5, Supernatural, much like its main characters, looked death in the face and said “Not today, bitch.”

If a show isn’t doomed by its first shift in narrative focus, though, it certainly is the departure of the original showrunner. This is what Supernatural faced entering its 6th season. Once again, things got particularly hairy, quality-wise, here as well, and despite season 6 holding on the best it could (the addition of the aforementioned “French Mistake” helped, surely), I truly thought that by the time I reached season 7, I was finally witnessing the predicted decline of the show; the beginning of the end. Admittedly, seasons 7 and 8 did struggle in many ways; to find interesting plotlines, to support the evolving TV landscape (the early 2010’s saw a lot of changes in programming with Netflix bursting onto the content-making scene), and to top the lofty personal and general stakes of previous seasons. Both seasons still provided a few standouts (the touching “Hello, Cruel World” and the amusing “Hunter Heroici” among them), but, overall, my theory was by all means proving correct.

Until it wasn’t.

Seasons 9 and 10 were more or less forgettable, and still felt as if they were made by a writing team clinging desperately for ideas, but were still a definite improvement over 7 and 8 (the first surprise; not the last). The guts the writers had to have to make “Dog Dean Afternoon” were impressive on their own, and I personally loved the creative liberties they took to make episodes like “Alex Annie Alexis Ann” and “The Werther Project”. Season 11, though, was what blew me truly away; it felt completely new, as if someone had breathed a brand new life into the show. Sure, the villain wasn’t nearly fleshed out enough, but if you came to this show for the villains you probably wouldn’t have even made it to season 11 anyway.

While, in the previous seasons, standout episodes were the welcome exception, Season 11 made them the rule. From the heartfelt (“Red Meat”, “Alpha and Omega”) to the out-of-the-box (“Plush”, “Beyond the Mat”) to the ones that somehow beautifully blend both qualities, (“The Vessel”, “Baby”, “Safe House”, to name a few), Season 11 of Supernatural felt like a breath of fresh air. Seasons 12 and 13 reinforced this, following closely in Season 11’s footsteps. In addition to more standout episodes that I would recommend in a heartbeat (“Regarding Dean”, “Who We Are”, “Scoobynatural”), S12 and 13’s recruitment of Mary and Jack, respectively, added new dynamics to the show while still centering on the core themes of familial ties- but now I’m starting to get ahead of myself. 

I once took a humanities class that was based off of the philosophy of The Matrix. In this class, I read an essay by a well-respected journalist who was convinced that we, as a collective, must be in the Matrix. His reasoning, of course, was the infamous La La Land/Moonlight mix-up at the Oscars in 2017. He reasoned that this event must be an anomaly, a glitch in the Matrix-or possibly a bored architect playing with their creation. I, to this day, have no idea whether this article was satire or not. I do know, though, that the success of Supernatural reminds me of that guy, a lot. How is it that this show, one of many procedurals in TV Land, one of many, many paranormal dramas, could last so long on merit, when other shows, shows with even larger audiences, more money, more awards and more publicity in their corner could lose their luster (and their renewal status) while this quiet behemoth soldiers on?; The Office, which came out the same year to much more acclaim, The X Files, with a very similar premise, Sherlock, which attracted much of the same audience, all gone much before Supernatural… It’s gotta be a glitch in the Matrix, no?

No…What I learned from this month and a half long super-binge, though, is that the secret to Supernatural isn’t much of a secret; it’s good writing. While they have certainly made some massive duds (*cough* “Bloodlines” *cough*), it continues to truck along while other shows flower and fade. And this isn’t-it can’t be- just due to pure luck.

It seems to me that the first thing the writers of Supernatural have done is really honed in on what makes their show work; this in itself is more than a good 75% of the television writers working today can truly say. The thing that makes the show work isn’t the paranormal jaunts or the exploration into every religious lore known to man. It’s not even their avid fanbase, or their weird meta-ness, although both have certainly helped upon occasion. It’s the characters; Its Sam and Dean.

There is something inherently attractive about the Winchester brothers, (other than, you know, their inherent attractiveness); something that these writers know and use to their advantage. We, as an audience, are drawn to their devotion to each other, their quirky disfunctionality hiding the true genuine care the two have for one another. They are always-always-there for each other. Everyone who watches can certainly either relate to that primal protectiveness of those closest to us, or can at least fantasize of a family that could put each other first the way the Winchesters did. There’s this mysterious allure to the emotional undertones of the show; I believe it comes from the fact that everyone secretly loves to hear that “There ain’t no me if there ain’t no you.”

Surprisingly early on, the writers obviously discovered this factoid and learned to use it to their advantage. While it clearly has contributed to the wacky meta-ness the show has become known for, inspiring episodes such as “The Monster at the End of This Book”, “The Real Ghostbusters” and “Fan Fiction”, it has also contributed to the show in an even bigger way. Despite expanding their world continually, doing the craziest plotlines, and, yes, putting out some genuinely weird episodes, everything always comes back to Sam and Dean. Their stubborn inability to learn to let each other go drives the show through the strangeness, and we, the fans, love that.

After 14 seasons, though, constantly killing the characters off and playing the same emotional cards could theoretically get stale. After one or two times, after all, the emotional impact dissipates, as the audience learns that there is no way that what dies will stay dead. Many shows use this tactic of playing up emotions, but most cannot work it out well. Deaths become cheap and hollow at best, and the few permanent deaths aren’t, frankly, believable. Other emotional factors like betrayals or plot twists become tired and repetitive (How many curses were there in Once Upon a Time, again?). Finally, major setpieces and epic villains end up stacking up against the television filmmaker, building to the point where there is no possible way they can satisfactorily ‘top’ last season’s cliffhanger without encountering this repetitiveness or jumping too far out of left field. Supernatural avoids this issue in the best way you could possibly think of.

The term ‘jump the shark’ dates all the way back to a 1973 episode of Happy Days in which Fonzie literally jumps over a shark on a jet-ski. Most Happy Days fans recognize this occurrence as the one in which the viewers could no longer reasonably suspend their disbelief for the sake of the story. Since this episode, the term “Jump the Shark” has come to stand for the point in time in which a show turns on itself; in which it goes too big, too bold, too ridiculous to be taken seriously anymore. This “jump” is also generally a precursor to the aforementioned dip in quality that every show eventually hits; Basically, your TV show either dies a hero or lives long enough to see itself jump this proverbial shark. Or, well, as you may have guessed, not all- not Supernatural.

I mean, I can tell you some pretty dopey moments, some times when I thought for sure that “they cannot make this work.” Just a few of the things that come to mind: Sam’s pointless storyline about adopting a dog in season 8, a 17 Again style episode involving the witch from Hansel and Gretel, an episode where Dean gains the ability to talk to animals (and they all have ridiculous voices), and my personal favorite: a plotline involving a Turducken sandwich made of goo that left its consumers high as a kite. But even looking back on these cringeworthy storylines, I sincerely cannot tell you a moment in which Supernatural truly jumps the shark. Or, perhaps maybe a better way to put it is that I can; they’ve been jumping the shark regularly since season 4.

See, the writers of Supernatural really know what kind of show this is. I was not watching when their first real meta episodes emerged in season 4, but I always understood them as the writers taking these concepts of “jumping the shark” and slowly declining in quality into the pit of cancellation, looking them straight in the face, and saying; “Come at me.” Television-especially procedural television-takes itself so gosh-diddly-darn seriously these days. Look at any other show on the CW and tell me that they don’t. Sure, some shows might be ‘fun’, but deep down, they want to be taken seriously; they need to be. I could write a whole ‘nother essay about the various reasons behind this, but that’s currently beyond my point. My point is that Supernatural, by wading into the crazy and making it a part of its brand, is avoiding one of the biggest pitfalls a show can come upon. You can’t criticize a show for constantly bringing back its dead characters if that in itself has become a part of the show’s structure. You can’t expect for a show to have boundaries-walls- if they’ve already shattered the fourth one (I love you, “French Mistake”).

Supernatural has made itself the show without limits. Too many TV shows get lost trying to balance what the viewers want (“How can we top whatever we did last season?”) with what is feasibly possible within the boundaries of their established universe, and eventually, they always fall victim to one or the other. Whether accidentally or on purpose, though, this one, run-of-the-mill paranormal procedural has cracked the very key to staying watchable for season after season.

Supernatural, by design, will never have a storyline too outlandish for their universe. Similarly, they will never need to work desperately to figure out what the viewers want, because they know that all we want is more of the same; You know, “Saving people, hunting things.”

I’m sure that other shows will run for longer than Supernatural will. I know it will never end up being much of a critical acclaim machine, either. I’m not sure how much of an impact the show, when it one day comes to a close, will have on the world at large. But do I know that I, barring some horrible accident where I suddenly lose all appreciation for the logistics of TV, will always admire Supernatural for all that it is and all that it accomplished.

For most shows, there will always be another of it somewhere down the road. For every Parenthood, there will be a This is Us. For every Chicago Fire, there will be a Chicago Med…or PD…or…Uber Drivers (eventually, I’m sure). But I truly don’t believe there will ever be another Supernatural on our screens… and not just because it would be almost impossible to replicate the show’s perfect storm of chemistry, acting, writing, timing, and healthy disrespect for the rules of television. It’s because-frankly-I don’t think anyone else would even have the balls.