Connecting the Dots: Vancouver, Part 5

Connecting the Dots: Vancouver, Part 5

A Supernatural convention travelogue by Axy @Aaaahhhxy

Read Part 1 here. Read Part 2 here. Read Part 3 here. Read Part 4 here.

While Jess still had a couple of ops with Misha, I went back into the main theatre, where Rob was on his own. And had MAJOR flashbacks of The Real Ghostbusters, which made me laugh about it as much as Rob did, while trying to imagine how Chuck would come back, Matrix-like. But to be perfectly honest, and fair to Rob, I was starting to feel a little (ha, a lot) anxious about the damn books, for so many reasons that I don’t think I’ll ever fully grasp them all.

Very few people actually know why I created the To Supernatural With Love project. What was the number one brick of this Great Wall Of Us. Funnily enough, besides my best friend, there’s, as of today, one other person that knows. And it’s Jared. I was fed up with the free rein of hate in this fandom, and some vitriolic messages hurt me like hell -- and not only those targeted at Jared, but also those sent Misha’s and Jensen’s way.

For a few weeks, it made me want to delete my own Twitter account and crawl back into a space where assholes couldn’t hurt me. I had two options, though: caving in, or fighting back. And if Jared and Sam taught me one thing this past 18 months, it’s that fighting back is, actually, the only choice. I needed an idea that would make it a little different, and thought that writing to the characters would do just good.

TSWL was born in July, and cost me effort I would never have anticipated. Hundreds of hours of work, as well. I learned as I went, and so many times I felt like throwing it all away. I almost gave up 99 times, but I eventually fought back 100.

At the end of the day, I’m extremely proud of what we did, and I’m proud of having been the vessel for this particular soul. But I lost many, many feathers as I went. It made me physically exhausted, and it slurped my own life force like a child hopped up on juice. It takes an insane level of commitment to build from scratch a blog in less than three days, and to create three different books, one of which was a collection of over 50 uniquely designed pages, some of which required up to four hours on their own. I’m not saying that to gain attention, or to be praised. I don’t care. I’m just pointing at how strange it was, after months of the hardest work I’ve ever produced, to reach the finish line and to give those books I loved and hated their final home.

I was both excited to start living for myself again and almost grieving because it’d be out of my hands, and the chance to get any form of final feedback was nonexistent. This book taught me the highest level of selflessness, because once it is gone, I’m not entitled to anything beside the certitude that those boys are going to feel an ocean of love.

The old me would have been rendered insane with frustration. But I’m not. I’m just happy that those people who mean so much to me, to us, now have this tangible, printed proof that our love is so loud, it eventually erases, or silences, whatever tried to stain it. I do wonder how some letters made them react. And I do wonder what they thought about it overall.

But it’s none of my business anymore.

It’s between them and Sam, Dean and Cas.

The responsibility was crushing nonetheless, because whatever I wanted to tell Jared, I was forced to postpone it to my next convention, since there’s no time to properly introduce him to the book and talk. Once more… it’s probably my biggest sacrifice. The biggest thing I’ve given this project. As for Jensen, it was one as well, but of a smaller proportions.

And Jensen was the first one we queued for the autographs. Poor thing was sick, and exhausted. They were so late on the schedule, it was well past 8:30 when we reached him. However, it was extremely easy to catch his attention, far easier than it was at Birmingham. Was it because it was Vancouver? Was it because he clicked and recognized the French girl they messed with earlier on? I don’t know. But he looked at me all the way through, despite his obvious state of tiredness.

I quickly explained what the book was about, and he listened attentively before thanking me in a way I can’t quite describe. There was so much intent into it. The way he took the book, as if it was the Graal itself, really moved me. I was excited for him to dig through the deafening love for Dean spread across those letters. And I was happy he got it. I was proud of what we did, and his last wink meant the world to me.

I barely had time to breathe and bathe in the incredible joy Jensen infused me with before we joined the queue for Jared’s autos. I’m not gonna lie, this was a task far greater than any of the other actors put together, because he’s Jared, because he’s Sam, and because they are the two most reliable pillars of knowledge and strength upon which I’ve rebuilt myself after the horrors of last year. It was daunting.

Thankfully, the line was moving slowly, visibly proving that he was taking his time, and it helped me relax a little. My biggest concern was whether I’d have to shorten it all up had it been any different. Not that I’d have resented him in any way, but I had a constructed speech in my head and wasn’t sure I could make it shorter, and was afraid that a change of plan would simply fuck it all up.

But it didn’t, and he was taking more than enough time with everyone. He was actually probably taking two to three times more time than he did at Birmingham… and that was already quite a lot back then. The closer I got to him, to listening to his voice, to hearing his laugh, the more determined I was, and the happiest I felt that he’d get this book, because I gained the certitude that this would mean something special to him. I just knew. And it made all the tears, all the rage, all the despair, all the anger at failing softwares and stupid computers, all the effort, all the work… worth it, before it even got given to him.

When my turn approached, and he was signing and laughing with a fun kid just ahead of me, I took a deep breath and prayed to Chuck not to mess it up.

He looked at me. Recognized me. Welcomed me with an array of words coming from an array of countries that don’t all speak French (there was some Italian and some German in there…) and smiled at me in a way that made all of the cells of my being fall in love with him all over again (and for, roughly, the 67th time over the past 12 hours). I then explained that we worked on a fan project that was a little different, and I had barely given him the book when he started to flip through excitedly, while I tried to contain it all and explain that it was a Team Free Will thing, and that all of those letters weren’t addressed to him but to Sam.

And that’s when the extraordinary happened. When he registered what I said, he stopped looking at it, and looked at me in a way that I will never find words powerful enough to describe. The rest of the room usually vanishes when he looks at me, but this was different. And all the dots finally connected.

This, this one look, this one moment, this one expression of the purest, deepest type, this one emotion that wasn’t coming from him to me but from me, on behalf of all of us, to him, this unexpected surprise coming from a corner of the fandom that’s nothing but love and light… I don’t think I will ever forget the connection that happened there. I don’t know how he did it, but this long, uninterrupted moment of higher intensity took away every single negative thing that the process left in me. All that I was left with was the unbreakable certitude that what we did, we were right to do it, and that it’d meant the world to him, before he even had time to read it. One look. That one look. That one, perfect, diamond-valued look.

We exchanged a high five -- another one, that connected yet another dot from Birmingham -- and then he proceeded to thank me in French and ask me how a few things were said in my language. I concluded by telling him that his level of French improved from one convention to the other, and that we both looked forward to the next one. And at this point, I was at my highest level of happiness. I felt content. I felt understood, validated, and that, after all those ugly ducklings I’d given my time and attention to, I’d finally found my swan.

And what a majestic swan it is.

A perfect one. One whose flaws are so beautifully balanced with so much beauty and light, it makes him unique on a global level. There’s only one Jared in our universe, and I feel so blessed to be able to share so much in such a little time with him.

After that, to put an end to our perfect weekend, we delivered Alex’s version of the book, and my mind got blown once again when he told me he’d already read it backstage and was thrilled he was getting his own copy. Did I tell you that Rob waved at us with his? That Rich loved it when Taylor delivered to him? That Ruth was so moved she read it on the spot? I didn’t give it to them myself, but that this happened floored me. I wanted to hug every single writer of the 170 letters spread across two books.

We did good, fam.

We did great.

I don’t think we could have done it any better.

***

I’d lie if I said that leaving the Westin that night was easy.

It wasn’t.

Behind me, infused in those walls, those chairs, every single step of the velvety stairs, every button of the stubborn elevator, was the greatest weekend of my existence, and so many laughs, so many emotions, so many moments of deafening beauty that I don’t think I’ll ever be able to accurately qualify what it was.

A fragment of my heart, and one of my soul chose to stay with Jared, joining the much smaller ones he kept with him after Birmingham.

I can’t really be mad at them.

I’d have done the same if I could.

We had a nice and quiet meal, and an even quieter walk back to the hotel that night. My heart was both full, and so heavy. Not at the end of the convention. I agreed a long time ago with the fleeting aspect of conventions, and that’s precisely what makes them beautiful. That I have to fight so hard and come such a long way for those. That they’re not a granted thing. That they’re rare is also why they’re precious.

No, it’s Vancouver I was refusing to leave.


My last breakfast, and last stroll down Granville Island, and last meal at Gastown were so, so sad. I remember bursting into tears in yet another one of those tourist stores at the sight of a moose keyring whose big green eyes were making the resemblance too much to bear. Yeah, I bought it. It joined the army of moose I brought back from Canada. In every form. A skiing magnet. A pin of one with a Canadian flag on his butt. A whole collection on a scarf. Dozens of them, only here to remind me that I’m lucky enough to know of one place in the world I love and miss so much it actually hurts inside. And to remind me that there are people on this side of the ocean that make my life a million times better than it was supposed to be.

It tore me apart to leave the hotel. To leave my friends. To leave Vancouver. 

Vancouver made me feel whole. It made me feel safe. It made me feel me. It made me feel happy. The happiest I have ever been. 

Taking off from YVR was a torture. Every single cell of my being was fighting to stay. Each one. The only thing I asked Vancouver as it became smaller and smaller beneath me was to take care of them all. To look after my people. My family. And to care a little more about him, who had the capacity to give so much in such a little time. I have never loved him more than I did that morning, as Vancouver slowly disappeared from my vision. I have never loved Supernatural more either. 

The little show that could.

The little show that did.

There are three things I understood during this life-altering experience. Three fundamental pieces of knowledge I would never have gotten otherwise, if it wasn’t for Supernatural. 

First, I am enough. They all made me feel loved for who I am, rather than for an elaborate illusion I always felt like I had to create in order to fit in. Me is all I’ve got, and me is all they want. 

Second, even when I think that my love for Supernatural couldn’t be stronger, louder or more consuming, my adoration for this show spreads and conquers territories I didn’t know existed within me in the first place. It’s my home. The one place that’s safe in the world. 

The only one. 

Third… and it’s probably the most important one: Some people are meant to play a decisive role in your existence. And some are meant to connect all the dots. I now have very few doubts as to where my path is supposed to lead me. I know it’s not in Europe, and I know it’s not where I thought it was. And I would never, ever have figured it out on my own. It took this show, it took Sam, and it took Jared to open my eyes to what my world actually was, and to its possibilities. They’re far, far bigger than anything I’ve been told. 

So, please, whenever someone tries to belittle your love or your relationship to any form of artistic reference or personality, please, tell them to shut the hell up, because the things that makes you *you* are often in places where you’re told you won’t find anything. 

Supernatural saved my life, that I have no doubt about, but it actually saved my soul, and this is invaluable. There’s no point in trying to express how grateful I am, and how happy it makes me to know that such a place exists. That I have an exceptional bunch of human beings I can look up to, and that I have an actual, tangible relationship to the one that matters the most. 

On my fridge, there’s currently another string of promises for next year. It’s going to cost me yet another fortune, and it’s going to deprive me of countless things, but those things don’t matter. What does is this yearly reunion with my people. My family. People that make my world go round and move forward. I found a place I belong in, and this is the most incredible of all feelings. In today’s world, this is rare and precious. 

Supernatural isn’t just a show. It’s not television’s purest miracle. It’s so much more than this. More than the Emmys will ever celebrate. More than an empty world has the intelligence to properly qualify. It’s a factory of happiness. It gives birth to vocations, it saves lives, it creates sisterhoods and families, it generates one of the biggest sources of humanity this world has ever seen. It has the capacity to build on the best in all of us, because of the best in all of them. 

Vancon taught me that if everyone had a little of Supernatural in their lives, the world would be a much, much better place. It makes me appreciate every single day, every episode, every chance to experience it to the fullest. There’s no telling where I’ll be tomorrow or the day after that, and I know all too well how capricious and murderous life can be… but for the first time in a long time, I actually have no doubt that this little show makes it all OK at the end of the day. 

I’m a Supernatural fan. This is a superpower.