I've been wanting to write some drabbles on why Dean is the way he is for a while, and I finally got around to it. As of tonight there are four, but that could change as time goes on. These are just my little theories on Dean and his actions. For example, did you know that he mainly went after blondes in season 1?

Title: The Dean Winchester Theories

Summary: Dean Winchester is a mysterious and complex individual. I'm just trying to figure him out the only way I know how: with stories.

A/N: Right now, there are only four chapters. Once those are psoted, I'll say this is complete, but as time goes by I might add more, depending on what happens. It might be smart to add this to story alerts.

The Dean Winchester Theories

#1

Shining Like The Sun

He eyed the woman from across the bar, loving the way her blonde hair shone even in the weak lighting of the little dive. She was perfect. He could see that her eyes were green, even from his far-away vantage point. Yes. He wanted her.

It had been in his Junior High years that his particular taste in women had been pointed out to him. Sam had been the first to notice, drawing Dean's attention to it. He liked blondes. All of his dates, all of his brief girlfriends… they had hair that shone like the sun.

Sam had also noted that Dean liked green eyes. Dean had wanted to know why Sammy paid so much attention to those kinds of things, and Sam had said that there wasn't much else to do. It was just an observation. No need to get snippy about it.

Dean didn't get snippy about it, but he had started to think. It was true. He preferred blonde-haired, green-eyed women. He'd sat up a couple of nights back then, all those years ago, wondering to himself about the trend. It had taken a totally unrelated event for him to realize why he chose the women he did.

He'd been flipping through his dad's journal one day, looking for information on something they'd been hunting, something their dad had missed, trying hard to make the older man proud. He'd seen a picture nestled between two pages. It was one he hadn't seen in a while, so he took a good look at it. His parents on their wedding day.

That was when he noticed it. His mother. She had blonde hair and green eyes. It was almost as if every girl he'd ever dated, every girl he'd ever kissed, every girl he'd ever thought of going all the way with, was staring out of that picture at him.

He had closed the journal, wondering what kind of sick person he was to want to date someone who looked like his mother. No one could ever replace her. What had he been thinking? That all blondes with green eyes were kind and warm and loving and accepting and would tell him exactly what he wanted to hear and chase the monsters from under his bed? That people like that would just love him automatically and unconditionally like his mother had? That, maybe just for a little while, he could have her back again?

That was exactly it. She'd loved him, no matter what. He hadn't even had to try to gain her affection. He hadn't worked for her love, not like he worked for his father's, and, in later years, his brother's. He just wanted someone to want him.

It hadn't taken Dean long to realize that if he could figure it out, Sammy could too. That couldn't happen. Sam would never let him live it down.

That day, Dean had decided to mix it up when it came to women, even if he didn't initially find them attractive. He dated a brunette, a redhead or two. He didn't feel the same way about them, didn't kiss them, didn't let himself fall in love. He'd never really had experience with women like that, didn't know if they would turn on him or not.

Mostly, though, he stuck to blondes. He liked blondes. When Sam left for school, Dean dropped the act and only picked blondes.

There was one girl who wasn't, but she didn't really matter, just reinforced his belief that only a blonde could really love him. The girl wasn't blonde. She dumped him. He told her everything, opened himself up, started to think that he had been wrong, and she'd dumped him.

He'd never been dumped by a blonde.

Smiling, Dean walked up to the radiant beauty at the bar, turning on the charm and offering to buy her a drink. He could tell by the way she looked at him, the way her hair shimmered yellow, the way her eyes reminded him of fresh-cut grass that it would be a good night. She would love him. All blondes did.