He shows up in the first episode, a guy in the dark and the first words we hear him utter are â€˜easy, tiger!â€™. Itâ€™s not James Bond. The nameâ€™s Winchester. Dean Winchester. The
Heâ€™s Han Solo, heâ€™s Indiana Jones, heâ€™s Zorro and Jack Sparrow. Heâ€™s all the best and coolest heroes Iâ€™ve learned to love throughout my life. A scoundrel with a golden heart. I would put my life into his hands in an instant.
I was not prepared for this. When I started watching Supernatural when it came to our screens (and it seems so strange now that there ever was TV-land without this show), I was thinking gore, horror, monsters, ghouls, not beauty. No, folks, Iâ€™m not talking about Jensen Acklesâ€™ remarkable good looks (although I donâ€™t mind them, of course), I mean the beauty of this incredible story weâ€™ve discussed countless times. Its depth, its authenticity amidst a fantasy world, its many layers and the melancholy that has been a part of it from the first episode on. Itâ€™s the kind of beauty sad poems are built upon, and sometimes I like to think of this show as an epic ballad, the Idylls of the Hunters
or something like that (my Lord Tennyson, forgive me this blasphemy).
In its centre we find two brothers, and the older one captured our attention with his nonchalant entrance and has become a sort of icon ever since.
Yes, Dean has a bigger mouth sometimes than he should, he earned some beatings with it, but that is part of his allure. He doesnâ€™t swallow what he thinks (well, he does so with his brother sometimes, and people he doesnâ€™t really care about get targeted by his sharp tongue), and his humour can be hurtful. He knows how to speak daggers and he scores every time.
But many guys do that. That alone wouldnâ€™t make Dean the
Dean. Dean won my heart more and more with his vulnerability. The first chinks in his so obvious armour became visible in Phantom Traveller
, and a few episodes later in Home
he broke my heart. You all know which scene Iâ€™m referring to â€“ the phone call to dad. I am way too young to be his mother, but I felt these motherly instincts rise up in me and all I wanted was to envelop him in a tight embrace and make him believe that everything would be well in the end.
Would he have believed it? Knowing the world he was fighting in? I doubt so. Dean has always known how cruel this place is. He has experienced it first-hand. Not only this place, but hell, too. And heaven â€“ not exactly the nicest haven altogether. What hurt me most was the deep sense of loneliness that held him in a harsh knot. Yes, he found his brother and they developed a relationship again, but for a long time he had been lonely â€“ in a way that has nothing to do with not being around people. He learned to hide his pain deep in his bones. He established that wall of sarcasm and aggressive humour to keep others at bay. He rarely confided in anyone or sought comfort. He had not learned he could do that, since â€“ as far as we know â€“ there was not much comfort on planet Winchester, dad was not the cuddling kind. Dean had learned to be a protector, not to seek protection himself.
But he needs it badly sometimes.
Heâ€™s strong, he is able to defeat all kinds of monsters, but the ones on the inside eating away at him? Hardly.While his brother had believed in some higher power protecting them, despite all the horrors theyâ€™d seen, Dean could not muster up that luxury. His mother who had promised him that angels were watching over them died nevertheless. There was no protection. And Dean had not been able to believe anymore. His faith had been taken away from him at such early an age.
There is so much anger in him he barely ever unleashes, disappointment and lost hope and sometimes he just keeps going, well- just because. Deanâ€™s wounded soul that might never entirely heal moves me beyond words. Or tears for that matter.
Heâ€™s always been quick to sacrifice himself to help those he loves. How many times has he laid his life on the line? Basically every time he ventured out on a hunting trip to protect people in need. And there are no limits to what heâ€™ll do for his family â€“ the one that ends with blood and the one that doesnâ€™t.
I donâ€™t know if any of us would be capable of doing that â€“ selling our souls for someone we love, knowing that weâ€™d spend eternity, literally eternity, being ripped apart in ways more horrific than we could imagine. But Dean did it. I think he probably wasnâ€™t aware of it, not entirely. But he would have done it anyway. Thatâ€™s the kind of man he is.
But that is also a sign of that lacking self-esteem. That he thinks so less of himself that heâ€™s willing to make any
sacrifice. He just does it and perhaps gains some of that confidence by knowing that his brother will live. There were moments I wanted to slap him for that (because he willingly jumps into pain and because he leaves tremendous pain behind), but I also wanted to shield him.
All his young life he had protected those closest to him. All I want to do at times is to protect him. To give him a moment of peace, to give him time to heal, at least a tiny bit. What he evokes most in me is compassion. He is one of the most handsome men around, I canâ€™t deny what I called â€˜Jensen Acklesâ€™ glamourâ€™ in my articles about the convention I visited in March last, and Iâ€™m not immune to it.
But Dean â€“ heâ€™s the kind of brother I never had. I am an only child, and I would have loved to have a brother like that. I am grateful that I was never forced to make decisions these guys were, but I have experienced the odd painful episode in my life, too. And I hope I have mastered those with the same kind of dignity I find in Deanâ€™s handling of those situations. He despairs, yes, he loses hope and sometimes behaves like a cad, with words that hurt his closest ones, but within it all he remains standing, fighting to be the person he believes he should be. He tries to be consistent with his self-image (his brotherâ€™s keeper), and that is something not easy to handle.
I admire and love a survivor. I always have. And Dean is one in so many aspects, that it breaks my heart thinking about it (yes, I might be guilty of being way too sentimental sometimes). He never had a childhood of peace or fun as some other lucky kids have.
From the moment his mother died, his training began. Not in weaponry right away, since John had to find out more about the strange world behind the curtains Missouri drew back for him â€“ but in taking care of his family, in enduring pain, in realizing that there actually is something out there in the darkâ€¦ that those creatures did not only exist in fairytales to scare children into behaving. The poison of the world he was pulled into left its scars inside and out.
For me, Dean Winchester is the kind of man Iâ€™d be proud to call my friend, my brother, a man of integrity and honour. Someone who tries to do what he can. Someone who has learned to survive fiends and love, as both are devastating sometimes. A man special and dear to my heart. And, well, howâ€™s that for a fictional character?
Iâ€™m sure there is even more to him in the depths of my soul, but that shall remain unspoken for now. Do you want to tell us what the
Dean means to you, kind readers?