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Dean can’t sleep for shit ever since the mark. He’s spun out running circles in his own mind enough times to know he needs something to do, something to make him useful again.
Sam doesn’t give a damn about what’s going on– he’s taking space from being his brother, whatever the fuck that even means, he’s damn well not gonna want to hear about his sleeping issues. Or his guilt issues. Or his… fucking uselessness. Can’t find Abaddon, can’t do anything but give them more shit to figure out. He’s a waste of space.
There’s a lot of reasons to hate himself. God– endless reasons. But there’s only a few he can actually do anything about.
Bruce the Monster Smasher.
Jesus, it’s so stupid, really. Just a damn toy, but… It’s all the kid had in the whole world. And it was cursing him with an apparition of his burnt up mother, and well– Dean would never wish that kind of random evil shit on anybody, so.
He didn’t think anything of it at first. Dean knew it wouldn't be the same– it wouldn’t be the one he grew up with but still– it might be nice? It might be something and something’s a helluva lot better than nothing, right? Dean’s actually not sure about that one but it sounds good so that’s what he’s going with.
Anyway. It was supposed to be an easy, impulsive thing. Buy the kid another toy, mail it to Sonny’s, feel like he made the slightest bit of difference in the world. He’ll settle for even getting a kid to smile, regardless if he gets to see it or not. It’s the thought, really. It’d be enough to help Dean get by. Three dollars to put in the tank until he can figure out the rest.
It hasn’t been easy though, is the thing. Bruce, in all his monster smashing glory, is something of a rare collectible nowadays. Figures. He can’t find one that doesn’t cost an arm and a leg. It’s like, really? Hundreds for a friggin’ action figure? And it’s not even a popular wrestler or whatever– it’s just some made up guy. With a cape. Dean still thinks that’s pretty impractical. Bruce the Monster Smasher isn’t Batman, although… The name thing is a pretty weird coincidence.
This is what it’s been like living in Dean’s head with Mark of Cain insomnia. Fucking noisy. Neverending borage of restless thoughts, spreading like wildfire catching on all the dry grass. He feels manic with an extra side of homicidal tendencies. It’s not a good combo, so– the toy.
Ebay: where all good decisions go to die. It’s how he spends his nights when he runs out of steam researching something useful and needs a break. Scrolling through endless pages of insane prices. He’s tried haggling with a few of them, talking down the number to something he could live with spending. And listen– it’s not exactly that money is an obstacle, it’s more the principle of the thing. No reason he can’t be practical in his bleeding heart moment. He even tried to work the “I need this for a sad kid” angle but these people were brutal and had heard it all, apparently. But he knew he was past the point of no return when he started joining live auctions, sending notifications every single time someone went a bid above him. Dean would’ve turned them off but… he really needed this freakin toy!
After months of going back and forth, Dean’s finally an auction winner. In preparation, he set up a PO box in town and gets the expensive ass toy shipped to him. Two long weeks go by in a slog as he continues on with life, waiting for the big day. Dean can’t remember the last time he looked forward to getting mail, if ever–
Once Bruce is finally in his hands, he calls Sonny up for his exact address and confirmation that Timmy is indeed still living with him, which is maybe something he should’ve looked into from the jump but no one’s perfect.
It’s fast– the process of going from Dean’s possession and then back to the post office’s care.
A few days later, Dean gets a picture of a wide smiling kid, who already looks bigger than he did when Dean saw him last, with a text that says: Thanks, D-Dawg. I think he loved it.
Dean stares at the picture for a long while. Eyes glassy and full.
All in all, it was worth the effort. Sam might hate his guts, Cas might be off doing mysterious angel shit, and he might be driving down a road with no exit, but right now, Dean just made a kid’s day. And that feels pretty damn good.