Pam crashes the prison!
She'd heard a rumor that may or may not have come from an illegal foray into the DOC computers that Sam had been relocated to a minimum security facility. Which was totally a good thing in her books, considering some of the stories she'd heard. It also was a good thing because it meant she could bring him cookies and he might actually be able to have some of them. Or brownies. No, not brownies, people baked things in brownies, cookies were better.
Not that she couldn't bake a batch of cinnamon oatmeal cookies that had their own blend of secret herbs and spices, but this so wasn't the time. Or the person. Or the place.
Wholesome oatmeal cookies, chocolate chip cookies, maybe one of the COs would let her bring in the bottle of milk. It was a little hokey and a little juvenile, but it wasn't prison-like. She couldn't imagine what being in there was like for Sam. Surrounded by a constant reminder of his failings day in and day out. Even apart from the shit he'd been taking from everyone for being a Winchester.
They passed her through screening, sat her down at one of the tables. Everyone looked nervous. Or anticipatory. Or both. She wondered what they were waiting for, or who. A sibling, a lover. A father. A child. Someone to forgive or be forgiven by, someone to cry on. Hard to say. Everyone had a story and for a second she was surrounded by the noise and the weight of it all, at least until she caught sight of a peach-fuzz head towering inches above everyone else.
"Hey, there, Gigantor," she called, smiling and waving him over.
Not that she couldn't bake a batch of cinnamon oatmeal cookies that had their own blend of secret herbs and spices, but this so wasn't the time. Or the person. Or the place.
Wholesome oatmeal cookies, chocolate chip cookies, maybe one of the COs would let her bring in the bottle of milk. It was a little hokey and a little juvenile, but it wasn't prison-like. She couldn't imagine what being in there was like for Sam. Surrounded by a constant reminder of his failings day in and day out. Even apart from the shit he'd been taking from everyone for being a Winchester.
They passed her through screening, sat her down at one of the tables. Everyone looked nervous. Or anticipatory. Or both. She wondered what they were waiting for, or who. A sibling, a lover. A father. A child. Someone to forgive or be forgiven by, someone to cry on. Hard to say. Everyone had a story and for a second she was surrounded by the noise and the weight of it all, at least until she caught sight of a peach-fuzz head towering inches above everyone else.
"Hey, there, Gigantor," she called, smiling and waving him over.