#the losing people trauam

[shallowseeker]

Barriers to deserving happiness

Dean's survivors' guilt re: John's deal is getting to me today. I mean, it was SO powerful and so intrinsic to understanding early-seasons Dean. Like, it's THE thing that eats Dean and it's one of THE biggest things that feeds into his deal for Sam. I don't think it's not not discussed, but I'd love to see it discussed more.

Dean RE: the deal —

...

Bobby:  What is it with you Winchesters, huh? You, your dad, you’re both just itching to throw yourselves down the pit! Dean:  That’s my point. Dad brought me back Bobby. I’m not even supposed to be here. At least this way something good can come out of it. You know, like my life can mean something.

.... and....

Dean:  Which is why we gotta find this yellow eyed son of a bitch! That’s why I’m gonna kill him myself. I mean I got nothing to lose now, right? Bobby:  I could throttle you!

2x22

And there's Cas, trying desperately to figure out a broader meaning for why GOD* and later Jack brought him back, searching for a way to make it meaningful:

CASTIEL: And if Michael really is coming, maybe I was brought back to help prepare. DEAN: Prepare for what? CASTIEL: War.

13x14

Survivor’s guilt in the context of a soldier is a profound and deeply personal experience, often shaped by the unique bonds of camaraderie and shared risk in military service. F or soldiers, the guilt of surviving when comrades do not can be magnified by the intense loyalty and sense of responsibility they feel toward their unit. This guilt can create significant barriers to emotional recovery and accepting happiness, as it becomes intertwined with their identity and values.

I think... Survivor’s guilt can make Dean Winchester or Castiel feel unworthy of happiness, especially when their choices led to others dying. Loving each other might feel like a betrayal, as if finding solace together means ignoring the lives they couldn’t save—or the ones they took.

Purgatory is tempting because it respectively offers Dean and Castiel an escape from the burden of guilt. (And at first, Dean wants to get them out! A bit like how SPNWIN John wants to get Mary out of hunting but struggles to get himself out of it.)

Eternal war and constant punishment can feel like justice—a way to pay for what they've done. It’s a place where they can reject happiness, where the relentless struggle numbs the ache of loss and absolves them of the need to move forward. In purgatory, there’s no room for joy or love, only survival, and that feels easier than facing the guilt of living and the potential fear of finding solace in the other.

Overall, I think they're over-aware of each others' feelings of guilt too... and it magnifies their own respective guilt. They try to soothe the other's guilt because they want better for the other. BUT they also empathize with and shoulder each other's guilt, too. It’s a friggin mess. But survival wasn’t a simple choice they made; it was simply what happened. And embracing love doesn’t erase their losses—it honors them, proving those sacrifices weren’t meaningless. They both struggle to learn that happiness isn’t earned; it’s something they’re allowed, even with the weight they carry.

...

EDIT: Maybe Dean and Cas begin to realize their love isn’t just the quiet camaraderie or distant longing that can be kept contentedly at arm's length. It’s something deeper, more immediate, like learning to live together, sharing meals and quiet moments in a way they’ve never dared before. And so... They try to find a way to be close without fully giving in—coming up with a balance that lets them be near each other without facing the guilt of overindulgence. But it’s hard, because the love between them is powerful, the kind of love that feels almost selfish, like something they’ve never allowed themselves to need before. And maybe, the closer they get, the harder it becomes to deny the weight of it, and the fear creeps in—that to fully embrace it would be the most selfish thing either of them has ever done. ... Musings: For Dean, this love with Cas is complicated. It’s not a relationship where he can control the coming and going, or where he can hide behind the idea of being needed just enough to keep the distance he’s comfortable with. It’s a terrifying leap into something that doesn’t fit his usual rules, a vulnerability he’s never been willing to face before—a vulnerability marked by needing someone so badly. it's surrender, acceptance, and forgiveness. For Cas, it’s equally daunting, though in a different way. This love isn’t about duty or obligation—it’s about wanting, about being seen for who he truly is, flaws and all. It’s a surrender he’s never fully allowed, a willingness to be vulnerable in ways he doesn’t know if he can handle. The fear for him lies in the unknown—letting go of the armor he’s carried for so long and trusting that this love, however powerful, won’t break him.