Dean Winchester is a monster. Well, for a little while, anyway. By the time we hit Supernatural Season 10, the show had already cheated death so many times it felt like a cosmic joke. But this year was different. It wasn’t about stopping a literal Apocalypse or slamming the gates of Hell shut. It was about the slow, agonizing rot of a hero's soul.
Honestly, the tenth season is a weird beast. It started with the hype of "Deanmon"—the black-eyed, karaoke-singing version of Dean Winchester—and ended with the literal removal of the Darkness from its prehistoric cage. In between? A lot of angst. A lot of Castiel looking tired. And, surprisingly, some of the most experimental episodes the series ever attempted.
The Deanmon Problem: Why It Ended Too Soon
Everyone remembers the cliffhanger of Season 9. Dean wakes up, eyes pitch black, and Crowley is there grinning like a proud parent. It was the "Dark Dean" arc fans had begged for since the early days. We wanted to see what a Winchester looked like without a moral compass.
But here's the thing: it only lasted three episodes.
That’s usually the biggest complaint you’ll hear at conventions. Three episodes of Dean being a jerk, hanging out in bars, and headbutting Cole Trenton wasn't enough. The writers, led by showrunner Jeremy Carver, seemed terrified of keeping the brothers apart for too long. They cured Dean using the "sanctified blood" ritual—the same one they almost used on Crowley in Season 8—and just like that, the black eyes were gone.
Except the Mark of Cain remained.
This is where the season actually finds its footing. It’s not about Dean being a demon; it’s about Dean trying not to be one while a prehistoric curse screams in his ear. Jensen Ackles played this with a terrifying subtlety. You could see it in the way he gripped a blade or the blank stare he gave Sam. It wasn't just "evil." It was exhaustion.
Musical Chairs and Meta Moments
If the main plot felt heavy, the standalone episodes were where the season breathed. Episode 200, "Fan Fiction," is a masterpiece. Period. There’s no other way to put it.
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Most shows would have made fun of their fans. Instead, Supernatural wrote a love letter to them. Having a high school drama club put on a musical based on Carver Edlund’s books was a stroke of genius. It acknowledged the "Wincest" shippers, the "Destiel" theorists, and the fans who missed the simple days of just hunting ghosts. When those kids sang "Carry On Wayward Son," even the most cynical viewers got a bit misty-eyed.
It served a narrative purpose, too. It reminded Dean why he does what he does. The "BM" (Boy Melodrama) scenes, as the characters in the play called them, were a self-aware nod to the show’s own formula.
Rowena and the Family Business of Magic
We can’t talk about Supernatural Season 10 without mentioning Ruth Connell.
Enter Rowena MacLeod.
She breathed new life into the villain roster. For years, we’d dealt with gravelly-voiced demons and stoic angels. Rowena was flamboyant, manipulative, and deeply Scottish. Her introduction as Crowley’s mother added a layer of domestic dysfunction that the show desperately needed. It humanized the King of Hell. Seeing Crowley—the guy who literally sells souls for a living—get bullied by his own mother was comedic gold.
But she was dangerous. Her presence introduced the Book of the Damned, a MacGuffin that would dictate the plot for the next several years. It wasn't just a book of spells; it was a sentient, dark object that wanted to be used. It was the catalyst for the season's bloody finale.
The Death of Charlie Bradbury: A Turning Point
This is the part that still makes people angry. If you go on Reddit or Tumblr today, the mention of "Dark Dynasty" (Episode 21) still triggers heated debates.
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Charlie Bradbury, played by Felicia Day, was the heart of the later seasons. She was the sister the Winchesters never had. Killing her off-screen in a motel bathtub felt... cheap. To many, it felt like "fridging"—killing a female character just to give the male lead a reason to go on a rampage.
The Styne family, the villains responsible for her death, were an interesting concept that went nowhere. A secret society of Frankenstein descendants? Cool. Having Dean slaughter the entire family in a blind rage? Also cool, in a dark way. But was it worth losing Charlie? Most fans say no.
What it did do, however, was push Sam Winchester into a corner. Sam’s desperation in Season 10 is often overlooked. He was lying to Dean, working with Rowena behind his back, and risking the safety of the world just to save his brother. It was a reversal of the early seasons. Sam had become the one who would "burn it all down" for family.
The Final Sacrifice (Or Lack Thereof)
The finale, "Brother’s Keeper," is peak Supernatural.
Dean has finally snapped. He’s tired of fighting the Mark. He summons Death (the incomparable Julian Richings) to kill him. But Death can’t kill him; the Mark won't allow it. Instead, Death offers a deal: move Dean to a remote planet where he can’t hurt anyone, but he has to kill Sam first.
The logic? Sam will never stop trying to bring him back, and his efforts might accidentally unleash something worse.
The scene in the Mexican restaurant is some of the best acting in the series. Dean standing over a kneeling Sam with a scythe. Sam showing Dean old photos of their mother. It’s the core of the show—the codependency that is both their greatest strength and their fatal flaw.
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When Dean kills Death instead of Sam, it’s a "hell yeah" moment that immediately turns into an "oh no" moment. By removing the Mark without a new host, they broke the cosmic lock. The Darkness was free.
Technical Wins and Narrative Stumbles
Looking back, the production value this year was high. The lighting got moodier, reflecting Dean’s headspace. The fight choreography, especially in the scene where Dean wipes out the Styne estate, was brutal and lacked the "staged" feel of earlier seasons.
However, the angel subplot felt like it was spinning its wheels. Castiel’s search for his grace and his attempt to help a girl named Claire Novak (the daughter of his vessel, Jimmy) was heartfelt but often felt like it belonged in a different show. The writers struggled to find things for Misha Collins to do while the Winchesters were locked in their cycle of Mark-induced angst.
What to Keep in Mind When Rewatching
- The Pacing: The middle of the season has some "monster of the week" filler that feels jarring given the stakes of the Mark.
- The Crowley Dynamic: Watch how Mark Sheppard plays Crowley's slow realization that he’s lost his "edge" because of his friendship with the Winchesters.
- The Soundtrack: Aside from the musical episode, the classic rock cues are sparse but impactful.
Moving Forward: How to Engage with Season 10
If you're revisiting this season, don't just look at it as a bridge to the Darkness arc. Treat it as a character study on addiction. The Mark of Cain is a literal addiction—it feeds on violence, it changes the personality, and it creates a withdrawal that is physical and spiritual.
Actionable Insights for the Supernatural Fan:
- Watch "Fan Fiction" (Episode 5) as a standalone. Even if you aren't doing a full rewatch, it stands as the best example of meta-commentary in television history.
- Analyze the Sam/Rowena dynamic. Their secret partnership in the latter half of the season sets the stage for their very complex relationship in Seasons 11 through 15.
- Pay attention to the "Cain" episode. Timothy Omundson’s performance as Cain in "The Executioner’s Song" provides the necessary context for why Dean is so terrified of himself. It’s arguably one of the top five guest performances in the entire 15-year run.
Season 10 isn't perfect. It’s messy, it’s occasionally frustrating, and it killed off a fan-favorite character in a way that still stings. But it also proved that even after a decade on the air, Supernatural wasn't afraid to take massive risks with its leading men. It set the stage for the literal end of the world, but it did so by focusing on the small, broken pieces of two brothers who just couldn't let each other go.