I know a million people have already shared their opinions and thoughts on Jensen’s “brother” comment in regards to the confession, so this may be nothing new; but I can’t stop thinking about it so I wanted to write it down.
One of the main reasons I love (and kept watching) SPN over the years was because of Dean’s character-growth. He is just so human—and that is a testament to both Jensen’s acting, as well as Jensen’s age when he started playing Dean.
For fifteen years, we got to observe all those micro and macro changes within Dean’s character; much like a parent watching their child grow up. We noticed how Dean’s face changed, how his voice and confidence and openness morphed and grew … but we also got to see all the ways he stayed the same. We got to see his habits resurface again and again; and we got to see him make the same mistakes over and over. And even though it was frustrating to watch at times … it was also very, very human. It was natural. It felt real … and I think that was both intentional and unintentional on Jensen’s part.
But just like how our growing child can’t see all these changes within themselves, I don’t think Jensen can see them all within Dean—not like how we can. He’s too close; but that doesn’t mean he hasn’t psychoanalyzed Dean Winchester.
I think it’s become obvious in the last couple of years just how much Jensen has thought about Dean’s thought process, both individually as well as in the SPN canon—and he thinks of Dean as a real person. His answer at VanCon proves that. Like @pray4jensen said: it’s clear that Jensen doesn’t know where he ends and Dean begins. And how could he know? He started playing/shaping Dean in his late twenties; and science has proven that most people’s brains are still malleable at that age. He then went on to grow with that character well into adulthood—through all the formidable and pivotal moments in his own life … marriage, fatherhood, life and death. Dean IS part of him. He wasn’t just an “act” to Jensen. So much of his own development couldn’t help but sneak into Dean’s mannerisms, which made Dean feel very, very real on screen.
Think of it this way … so many of us have had difficult/complicated pasts. We have had to code-switch all our lives. There’s a version of yourself that you have to display in certain company and in certain environments; and sometimes, that version pops up without warning—when triggered by something familiar or traumatic.
Now, I’m not saying that playing Dean was a “trauma” for Jensen (at least—I hope it wasn’t), I’m just saying that we’ve all had experience playing a role in our lives; and even though we know that it’s just a role, we still think of it as a version of ourselves. We still feel like we’re just a moment away from reverting back to that person. But can you define all the qualities of that other version of you? Can you explain—in detail, just how and when and why that version pops up? No.
You can identify some things, sure, but not all. That’s why we seek out therapy. We need an outside perspective to help us find a way to bridge these versions of ourselves and make them whole again.
This is just human nature. It’s human psychology.
Dean Winchester is a version of Jensen. He is a real part of Jensen’s life. So, when Jensen answers on Dean’s behalf, he can’t help but put himself directly into that character’s boots—exactly where they stand, here and now.
And if we flash back to that confession—Jensen knows that Dean Winchester would not have been able to comprehend all the ways Castiel meant “I love you” because Jensen was Dean in that moment. And after Cas was taken, Dean still wouldn’t have been able to understand, because all the love he has ever known in his life—all the true, dependable, reliable love, has come along with the fight. Jensen knows—because he lived it all with Dean, that any love his character felt was a direct result of his battles to save the world. Sam, Benny, Mary, Charlie, Kevin, and on and on … all of them of course cared for Dean—Dean knew that, but since the constant fighting framed every one of those relationships, he couldn’t help but view them all the same way: as soldiers, fighters, products of war. They were family, yes ... but they were all still soldiers. Even those he tried to keep out of the war, Dean still knew the reality was … they had to fight in order to stay alive. That was just the way it was. That was the way of the love Dean felt. Any kind of love beyond that was impossible, because war would inevitably take it away too. That’s why he ended things with Cassie and Lisa. That’s why he only ever pursued shallow flings and one-night stands. And that’s why, when he saw hunters who actually maintained romantic relationships—he always stared at them in wide-eyed-wonder.
Out of all the impossible things Dean had witnessed in his life, that was the one that consistently shocked him.
Hunters … in love and happy.
It felt unreal, even though it was right there in front of his eyes.
He couldn’t understand it. So, even though it apparently was possible for others, he never believed it was possible for him. It had nothing to do with sex … sex wasn’t a part of love for Dean. Sex was just a physical movement, like fighting and eating. It kept his body alive and moving forward. This impossible love he saw others maintaining … it had everything to do with heart; and for nearly fifteen years, Dean believed his heart was worthless.
It wasn’t until an angel stood in front of him on the brink of death and said: Dean, you are not a weapon to be wielded. You are beautiful. You are a man full of love who deserves to be loved, and I love you, that Dean thought any different.
It wasn’t until he heard Castiel say Dean was more than just a soldier, that Dean actually started to believe it. But that realization was still a long way off from what Castiel was actually telling him.
And Castiel knew that Dean wouldn’t understand—he knew that Dean wouldn’t be able to fully grasp his words and take them to heart; but he hoped that if he at least said them out loud … if he said them to Dean’s face and saved the man’s life, that Dean would go on to live and grow; and then someday, he would see that someone did actually love him once. Cas truly loved him—not because Dean could protect him in a fight. Not because he was a good hunter or the savior of the world, but because Dean was Dean, and that was enough.
And you know, if Dean got to live to 100, he just might’ve realized that; but he didn’t. He died too soon. And so, he never got to truly grasp what his angel was saying, and I feel like that’s what Jensen understands about Dean the most.
He understands that Dean never got the chance to understand love.
Not in that way. Not in the way Castiel meant it.
Dean was still too naive, too broken, too jaded; so, he did what all humans do, he put the complex into terms he could understand, and that was that Castiel loved him the way that Sam loved him. The way that Benny and Charlie and Kevin loved him, the way that all his found-family love him; and after Cas was gone, he buried his face into his hands and wept because once again, he failed to protect his family. And even worse, he failed to at least let Castiel go knowing that Dean loved him too—in the only way he knows how to love, he was too broken to say even that.
He let Castiel down in every way possible, so he curled into himself and sobbed.
He should have said it back.
He should have held the angel close and said it back.
Dean realized it too late, and Jensen knows how much that hurt him.
It wasn’t about sex.
It wasn’t about romance.
It was about love and loss, and Dean was all too familiar with both—but only in the ways he had seen all his life.
The love of family and the loss of family.
He never had the chance for more.
He never got to see what else his own heart was capable of.
That’s what I feel Jensen meant with that answer, and that’s what I think he understands the most about Dean's character. We may be able to see the bigger picture because we're on the outside looking in; but Jensen was in Dean’s boots every day for fifteen years.
All he could ever see was what was right in front of him—and when Castiel made that confession, Jensen could only see it through Dean's eyes. He could only feel what Dean felt. He knows that when Castiel said those words to him, that was his best and truest friend in the world saying goodbye.
Another brother-in-arms was lost to him; but this time, it felt different. It hurt more, and if Dean just had a little more time—he would've been able to understand why.
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It’s beyond agonising that like. Later spn seasons would have Cas absent for a string of episodes, so the show could do some salmondean case episodes (apparently the core of the show, though my eyes glazed over through most of them). And that in and of itself is whatever, except then the writers would BLAME Cas’ absence from these intentionally Casless episodes on CAS. And so you sit through all these salmondean episodes of middling to poor quality and then the next time you see your beloved side character Castiel, well guess what. Dean is fucking pissed at him for “disappearing” and is given free rein to yell, guilt trip, and act like Cas has to ask his permission to do anything or go anywhere. Never in my life have I seen a show NARRATIVELY PUNISH a regular recurring character for the crime of being recurring. I can’t emphasise enough that Cas was for external reasons deliberately kept out of the episodes that internal characters would then blame him for not being in. It is insanity inducing.
And it’s one more thing that makes it so clear that spn SHOULD have been allowed to naturally evolve into an ensemble show, because frankly it DOESN’T make sense for Cas to just leave sometimes and there is really absolutely nothing conducive about essentially writing him off and into the show multiple times a season just so it can have its precious brothers-only episodes. And I mean Cas is only the most obvious and most heavily punished example of this, but they also did it to Crowley (literally billed as a regular same as Cas through s9-12), Mary (punished horribly for it tbh, by both the narrative and the fans), and Kevin (and he was usually off on the RUN or being held captive or something horrid like that). And the thing is!! Other characters and brothers episodes don’t even have to be mutually exclusive! How devastating would it be, really, if a salmondean centric episode happened to start with “we’re heading out to xyz, bye Cas” and end with “hey everyone, we’re back”???
I just think this show could have been vastly improved if recurring characters could have been treated as like, assets to the storytelling, and not as objects to get out of the way as quickly as possible so the focus can temporarily go back to the brothers. Lol.
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