Free, But Not Quite [Samifer]

Are We Having Fun Yet?

Sam shifted as he sat on the cold, hard floor, his back pressed against the wall. "C'Mon Sam, talk to me," Lucifer pouted at his side. Sam was about to put his head in his knees when a fimiliar, male nurse came in with a smile at him.

The man had dark brown skin and a finely shaven head, his brown eyes kind and weary as he looked to Sam. "Lunch time, Sam," he said in his deep voice. The nurse helped the taller man stand and escorted him to the lunch room before walking away, nearly patting Sam on the back before he did, but remembering the last time he did that. It had been a big mistake that cause him a black eye.

Sam was handed a tray and he walked down the line slowly, a glob of discolored macaroni and a slice of meatloaf among others on his tray. He turned and looked over the lunchroom. His eyes cascaded over the white room with white clothed patients in it, most not even eating. Sam staggered over to his usual table and sat across from his brother, the nurses watching them like hawks.

"Hiya, Sammy," Dean greets through a mouthful of food.

Sam smiles slightly at his brother's slightly puffed cheeks as he ate and the fact that he still looked like himself, even after a horrible week of being in this place.

"Hey, Dean," Sam says quietly as usual, glancing to his side.

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Nichole walked through the hallway, her nurse scrubs fitting perfectly and smelling of laundry detergent, as she was just arriving for her shift. She turned the corner, pushing a cart with fresh sheets and blankets stacked under. Nichole smiled kindly at a few passing nurses as she made her rounds, taking off dirty bed dressing and replacing it with clean ones. She moved from the first room on the hallway and went right, openning the door and pushing the cart into the room. Nichole nearly jumped when she saw the words written in an unidentifyable, thick, ink like substance on the wall next to the bed.

"John! Come quickly!" Nichole shouted out the room, knowing John was directly across the hall. John rushed in and stopped next to the slim woman who called him. She stared away from him, but when he saw why, he turned his body and gawked too.

"Bloody Hell," he gasped appropriatly in his British accent.

On the wall, letters were written jaggedly and shakily; the letters a deep red color. It read:

                                                               IT WAS MORE FUN IN HELL!