Comfort Crowd Δ SPN [ 1 ]

130. NO MORE HUNTING AND A DOG

It's been a couple of weeks since the whole leviathan thing went down, Sam and Libby left alone. Libby hasn't uttered more than a few words and her need to eat is practically nonexistent. Sam makes her eat three times a day, knowing she needs it, even if she doesn't want to. As long as she finishes half of her plate, he's good.

She's back to how she was after Bobby died, but somehow seems even worse. Sam tries to get her to talk or want to play something or really do anything aside from lie down and stare off into space.

Sam fixed the Impala up before and while they were at the cabin so he could work on it, Libby spent all her time in bed.

While they drive, Libby just sits in the backseat, quietly staring out the window. No music or conversation Sam tries to make seems to get to her, the girl just watching the scenery go by.

Libby wakes up screaming from nightmares often, Sam having to wake up and soothe her. He holds her until she falls asleep again, if she falls asleep again.

Her sleep schedule is back to being all over the place. Sometimes she'll manage to sleep through the whole night, but most times she gets a few at night and either goes until the next bedtime or she'll fall asleep at points in the day, getting little cat naps in.

Sam wishes he could fix her. He wishes he could make her feel okay and not like she does now. He just wants her to be okay.

The two are currently at a motel, settling down for a night or two. Sam mentioned going to the park tomorrow, but Libby didn't seem that interested in. He'll still try, hoping maybe she'll agree, even though he knows she probably won't.

Sam is sitting at the table and reading a newspaper. Libby walks out of the bathroom, wearing fresh and clean pajamas, her hair damp from the shower Sam just made her take.

Libby grabs her hair brush from her bag and trudges over to Sam, holding it out to him. She would just leave her hair as is, not having the sort of energy to care, but Sam insists on keeping her hair manageable, just like he does everything else.

Sam takes the hairbrush and Libby stands in front of him, her back facing him.

"You feel less grimy?" Sam asks, starting to brush through her hair. Libby only shrugs. Sam quietly sighs, staring sadly at the back of her head. He places a quick kiss to her head before continuing to work through her hair.

Libby stands, not really having anything to say. She looks around the motel, her eyes landing on the newspaper that Sam was reading. A certain headline catches her attention, it seeming like a werewolf is responsible for the two dead people it mentions.

Libby frowns, feeling her breathing pick up a little, as she thinks of her dad hunting. Why else would he be reading that page of the newspaper? Sam hasn't really left her side the past couple of weeks, really only ever leaving her to use the bathroom or take a shower. Other than that, he's always there.

Sam, who is almost done with her hair, hears her breathing get short and deep. His eyebrows furrow in concern as he puts the hairbrush on the table and turns her so she's facing him.

"Hey. Hey, hey, hey." Sam coos, gently cupping her face making her eyes divert from the paper to him. "Hey, hey, it's okay. Breathe, baby girl. You're okay. We're okay."

Sam continues to talk her through the panic attack, thankful it doesn't get to be a super bad one like the one when Bobby got shot.

After a while, Libby's taking deep breaths, her heart no longer racing. Sam strokes her hair with one hand, his other still holding the side of her face.

"You okay?" Sam gently asks, his eyes full of worry as he searches for the signs of the panic attack returning.

"I... I, um..." Libby pants, still trying to keep control of her breathing.