Supernatural is a bro show. A lot of it caters to the stereotypical hetero male gaze, male power fantasies, male tastes in music and cars, and male anxieties. And so you settle, neck-deep in toxic masculinity and casual sexism, vaguely imagining the creative team taking another toke before being all like, “Dude, do you know what would be, like, awesome right here?” and scribbling down another bro-approved idea. You don’t really expect the show to break out of the box it so lovingly wraps itself in.

And then it does.

They did little things in the first two episodes, but nothing really challenging. It was a nice touch that they made the bigger, tougher-looking brother be the sensitive intellectual one. It was pleasantly surprising when, after fridging so many females, they had a young woman with agency – but not so much that she didn’t need rescuing, of course. Can’t have some random girl pulling Sam and Dean’s fat out of the fire, now, can we? It’s not until the third episode of the first season that we see the creators deciding to completely overturn our expectations.

See, they needed one of the brothers to get through to this terribly traumatized child. Convention would dictate that brother to be sweet, sensitive Sam. I mean, Sam’s already shown he’s gentle and adept at handling other people’s grief. He’s got a college education that includes some psychology. He gets things. He understands other people’s pain even when he can’t process his own. He’s comfortable in his masculinity: he doesn’t think he needs to whip out his Man Card every six seconds to validate his status as a Real Man™.

And then you’ve got his brother, Dean. No one in their right mind is going to want Dean near their child who’s just been rendered mute by witnessing his daddy drown. You could expect Dean to, at best, be highly uncomfortable around children. Maybe he’ll be okay when he gets older and settles down, but right now, he’s so volatile, and so anxious to prove he’s 100% pure heterosexual by hitting on every attractive woman within a hundred mile radius, he’s bound to be terrible with even well-adjusted kids. He’d surely run shrieking from a psychologically messed-up one.

And, at first, that seems exactly where the show is headed. Sam’s the first one to see traumatized little Lucas, while Dean’s busy making eyes at Lucas’s mother Andrea. Dean doesn’t know how to react when his casual “Hey, what’s your name?” causes the kid to flee. Sam’s the one to ask if Lucas is okay, obviously noticing something’s wrong. Dean just goes right back to flirting with Andrea. And it seems like the only thing he’s gotten out of meeting Lucas is a terrible pick-up line:

When Sam makes fun of him, saying he doesn’t even like kids, Dean claims to love kids. However, he can’t even name three kids he knows when Sam calls him on it. So far, so expected.

Then the brothers find out why Lucas is mute: he was alone with his father when the entity in the lake drowned his dad. He was alone for two hours before someone found him. And while Sam is focusing on the fact they’ve got an eyewitness, Dean’s having a moment of dawning realization: “No wonder that kid was so freaked out. Watching one of your parents die isn’t something you just get over.”

They track down Andrea and Lucas in a park, and it’s Dean who goes to talk to the kid while Sam speaks with Andrea. Dean gets down on Lucas’s level, which isn’t something you’d expect from an adult who can’t relate to children.

Of course, it’s Dean, so we get a focus on army men, and, when Lucas keeps drawing, a comment that “Chicks dig artists.” But then Dean sits beside him, and they draw together while Dean talks gently.

You know, I’m thinking you can hear me, you just don’t want to talk. I don’t know exactly what happened to your dad, but I know it was something real bad. I think I know how you feel. When I was your age, I saw something. Anyway. Well, maybe you don’t think anyone will listen to you, or, uh…or believe you. I want you to know that I will. You don’t even have to say anything. You could draw me a picture about what you saw that day, with your dad, on the lake.

It’s a remarkable little speech, simple as it is. Dean shows Lucas that he gets it and won’t push. And he doesn’t claim to know exactly what Lucas is going through, just that he thinks he might know those feelings. I love that. And then he gives Lucas options for communicating other than talking. Dean may have never taken a psychology class or been around a lot of children, but he has a lot of instinctive ability to relate, and knows how to use his own experiences to connect to a scared and grieving kid, even if he is a little awkward around the young ‘uns.

He gives Lucas his own picture: stick figures depicting his family. Lucas doesn’t look at him as he points out who’s who, and Dean rejoins Sam and Andrea looking like he’s sure he hasn’t made any progress. But Lucas looks at the drawing, and a bit later, comes over with a picture just for Dean, one that’s critical to the investigation. He still can’t speak or even look at anyone, but he’s found someone he can communicate with.

Dean goes back to talk to Lucas after finding out the house he drew belongs to Bill Carlton, who has now lost both his children to the lake entity. Once again, he gets down to Lucas’s level, and doesn’t try to force him to communicate in ways he’s not comfortable with, even though he’s obviously frustrated when he can’t even get Lucas to nod. Realizing Lucas is scared, he shares a bit more of his past to help Lucas feel less alone and afraid:

It’s okay. I understand. See, when I was your age, I saw something real bad happen to my mom, and I was scared, too. I didn’t feel like talking, just like you. But see, my mom—I know she wanted me to be brave. I think about that every day. And I do my best to be brave. And maybe, your dad wants you to be brave too.

For the first time, Lucas looks up. Then he chooses a picture to give Dean, meeting his eyes while he hands it over. The two now have a solid connection. Dean has managed to do what no one – not doctors, not his grandfather, not his mother – has been able to do for Lucas.

After Bill Carlton’s death, Lucas is terrified and upset, and he turns to Dean when he’s trying to get everyone to understand that his home is the next danger spot.

Dean doesn’t understand what he’s trying to communicate, but worries about him enough to defy the sheriff and drive to the Barr house to check on him, which astonishes Sam. When they get to the house, a panicked Lucas jerks open the door. He meets Dean’s eyes, then turns and bolts for the bathroom, trusting him to follow. Dean shoves him back into Sam’s grasp before breaking down the door. He escapes Sam, who rushes forward to help, and would have run right into the bathroom into danger, but Dean grabs him while Sam rescues Andrea. And this is really great characterization: the hyper-macho brother isn’t the one who saves the beautiful woman. He’s left on the sidelines, caring for a child, and it doesn’t put the slightest dent in his reputation as a Manly Stud.

The morning after, Dean’s the one who notices Lucas leave the house, and follows him to the spot where poor murdered Peter’s bike is buried. These two can say so much to each other without saying a single word.

When Peter tries to drown Lucas, Dean’s first into the water trying to save him. And, thanks to his grandfather sacrificing himself to Peter, he does.

With ghosts laid to rest, the boys check out and get ready to leave. Lucas and Andrea deliver lunch to the boys as they’re about to drive out of town. Lucas is verbal again, and we learn that Dean relates even better to kids when they’re able to talk. They don’t have a lot of time together, but he does have a few minutes to impart some very important life instructions:

DEAN: All right, if you’re gonna be talking now, this is a very important phrase, so I want you to repeat it one more time.

LUCAS: Zeppelin rules!

DEAN: That’s right. Up high.

Lookit that smile!

This is the first time we see Dean with kids. It’s not an anomaly: an important part of Dean’s character is his ability to get along with children. We’ll see it demonstrated countless times. He may be a huge bundle of toxic masculinity, psychological damage, and overconfidence covering up for a lot of awkwardness, but he’s undeniably excellent with kids. It’s a beautiful touch that adds complexity to his personality, and also reassures men that you can be a kick-ass demon hunter and a caring human being, too. I like that they chose children rather than adults to humanize him. Typically, that’s left to women and the more sensitive men. It’s wonderful to see a dude-bro show telling men that caring for children is awesome.