#jail bars

A “fun” jail, like that one they have in the Netherlands

It was two weeks since he'd been discharged from the hospital, since the angels fell, since they shoved Crowley in the dungeon for a king-of-hell-sized time out. And it had been a month since their last phone call. Will had caught him by surprise, with a strong, quavering voice sifting through a landline he didnt recognize and hooking him onto the words 'in custody'. Sam was on the road that night with a note behind to keep Dean at bay and his fake ID sitting heavy in his coat pocket. Jack introduced him to Will with quick courtesy, eyes settling into some form of certainty Sam couldn't hold onto. "FBI Agent sent to do a check up by state," Jack added, and left them with obvious footsteps. The cells were cold, and Sam's vision worked around the bars as he stepped forward, swallowing down something in his throat. He smiled, he couldn't help it. "Will?" He called, one hand curling around four inch thick steel.

He'd been being held for awhile. These things took time; all the evidence gathering and setting up hearings and trials. In the meantime he'd been poked and prodded by doctors and psychiatrists, trying to get inside his head. It was his own personal hell come to life. Visits with anyone he knew were rare and tense and brief, so when he heard the footsteps and Jack's voice he wasn't quick to respond. He remained sitting on his cot, staring at nothing, until the second voice registered. He slowly turned his head, wondering if wishful thinking had gotten strong enough to make his mind play one of its terrible tricks on him. But no, his eyes told him what his ears had. "Sam?" He asked in a quiet voice, his face still blank but his eyes starting to brighten. Even with the visual evidence he almost refused to believe it. "It's really you, isn't it?"

He nodded all too fast, breathing in enough to fill out his chest beneath the cheap suit he wore. "Yeah, yeah it is," he assured him, with a sympathetic pull of his eyes into soft almonds. It was like seeing Will clearly for the first time, without the hard press of Satan and exhaustion, without demon trials shaking his skull and weighing on his eyes, and for the first time he found he could no longer be allowed to relate, just sympathize. "Im right here," he added, grounding the fact into Wills mind, giving him something solid to form around.

He slowly stood and went to the bars, standing half a pace back. "You are." His expression changed then, instantly melting from it's hard lines into a palpable relief, a slight smile even forming. He drifted closer, his hand deliberately reaching out to grasp the same bar just below Sam's hand. "What are you doing here, Sam?" An obvious question, but one he had to ask all the same, wrapping his head around the fact that Sam was there with him.

Sam snorted softly at the question, eyes drifting to their hands, to the lack of space, without any subtly. "Came to see you," he said simply, glancing back to him with a similar smile, his head tilted down to better look him over. He seemed shorter now, Sam noted, then stepped forward until his knee hit the bar. "I cant do anything without setting you on the run for life.. You dont want that." He assured him, despite knowing Will would already refuse.

"I know." He sighed, looking down and touching his forehead to the bars. "But I'll be out eventually, because the person who's doing this to me will be caught." His tone was more assured than simply optimistic. He straightened slightly again, grasping another bar in other hand. "In the meantime though... it's good to see you, it's... it's really good to see you."

Sam nodded absently, his tongue working through the seam of his lips as they curled in momentarily. "It's good to see you too," he said, softer this time, his smile widening enough to dimple his cheeks. "How are you feeling?" He asked, despite knowing the answer. It didnt take a genuis to see that Will's been through the ringer and back again.

"Like hell." Will took a breath, sagging his shoulders on the exhale. "They keep sending doctors in here, and they keep coming up empty. I look proper crazy, locked in here with just my hallucinations and nightmares for company. And I'm angry, because I can see now, I..." He cut off and closed his eyes.

"Hey," Sam said, voice softened into a type of firmness he was just programmed with. His hand on the bar moved up to clamp over Will's, resting over it without squeezing and he dipped his head so his hair fell forward over his ears. "It's okay.." He promised, smoothing out his thumb along Wills knuckles. There was a long train of silence where the hum of steel and cement flooring had him shift his feet, and he sighed heavily into the space between them. "Ive only got so much time...." He finally spoke up, voice filling the cell out without anything to stop it.

He looked to their hands and took a breath, willing himself to believe Sam, to hold on to that it would be okay. "I know." He said quietly, letting his eyes shift to meet Sam's. "...You look better." He noted with that glance, looking at him more closely then.

"Yeah.. Lots better actually, I can't really explain it," Sam laughed softly, letting it fall into the subtle echo of the cell. "Good thing though, me and my brother have a lot of work to do.. A lots happened. I'll spare you the details," he promises, with what he hopes is a more uplifting smile. "No witches this time though."

He smiles back, laughing a bit and casting his eyes down. "Yeah. One day you'll have to give me all the details I've missed." He glanced up again and shifted his hand to take Sam's through the bars. "I'm glad you no longer have to live with it."

He nods without thinking, feeling his shoulders loosen and sag beneath his suit. Their fingers tangle together, his own palm sitting big and shadowing against Wills. "Reality isn't so much better," he concedes, bringing his forehead closer until it rested against the bars. "But it beats the devil," he adds softly.

He laughed humourlessly in agreement, nodding. "Reality can be a nightmare on it's own, but better to not have it supplemented. Good riddance." He squeezed Sam's fingers lightly. It was a profound comfort to have him there, something he didn't expect, or at least think he'd feel for a long time.

He smiles into the momentary silence, feeling his tongue click restlessly against the roof of his mouth. "When you're out of here," Sam says, with just as much certainty as Will had. "We should meet up again."

"We will." He said with assurance. "You'll be the first person I call." He reached his other hand through the bars to touch to Sam's shoulder. "I just hope it won't be much longer..." He murmured, his weariness seeping through the cracks and showing in his dark eyes.

Sam tilts his shoulder into Wills palm, leaning forward enough to press part of his chest against the bar and settle there. He felt helpless, unable to cross between two simple bars of metal and air and it makes his lips pull out into a soft pout that he doesnt even know hes doing. "You wont have to hold on much longer," he assures him.