this is me trying, spn [ 3 ]

063. marriage and death

"--And that is how you get the answer." Sam finishes explaining. He looks over at Libby who has the most perplexed and horrified expression on her face.

"Okay, come on. We both know I'm never gonna use calculus anywhere." Libby says.

"Not true." Sam says.

"Okay. When do you use calculus? In your daily life, when?" Libby inquires.

"Well, there's..." Sam trails off in thought.

"Exactly!" Libby exclaims.

"Okay, okay, all right. We're--" Sam sighs. He gets up and grabs something, Libby not paying attention. Her eyes light up when he places the coloring book and crayons in front of her.

"We're done?" She grins.

"We're taking a break." Sam clarifies making her pout. "Because you look extremely overwhelmed and if we go any further, you're just gonna have a breakdown."

"Well, I am a cry baby." Libby remarks, opening the box of crayons. Sam quietly sighs.

"You're not a cry baby. You're somebody who reasonably expressions her emotions." Sam states. "You're also a teenager, so... your emotions are already all over the place. Especially being a girl with... you know, periods and everything."

"Mm-hmm. Right." Libby mumbles, focusing on coloring.

"I'm gonna go get you a snack. You need to eat something." Sam says, lightly scratching her head as he walks out of the room.

After a little while, Sam returns with water, chocolate milk, and a plate consisting of celery with peanut butter and a few Oreos.

"Ooh." Libby grins at the cookies and chocolate milk.

"Half healthy, half unhealthy." Sam says.

"I prefer all unhealthy, but whatever." Libby says.

Sam lets out a quiet laugh, but doesn't say anything, honestly just happy she gets excited about food again.

"So, uh... how are you doing?" Sam asks after a bit.

"Fine." Libby says.

"Elizabeth." He warns.

"Well, I don't currently have the urge to kill myself." Libby remarks, smiling. The smile dims at Sam's upset look. "That-- that was a joke, dad." She says. "Wait, no, the-- the part about not wanting to kill myself isn't a joke. I-- I don't want to. The way I said it was a joke, I-- I'm cool. I'm good. I... what, you don't like dark humor?"

"Bessie." Sam gives her a look.

"Sorry." She mumbles. "But, uh... I'm okay. Really. Food sounds more appealing and I don't cry myself to sleep anymore, I don't really have many nightmares now. I'm okay."

"And how are you doing with everybody else?" Sam asks.

"Well, I'm not particularly fond of suddenly sharing my house with, like, 20 or more other people. But it's not insufferable, I suppose. I'm not cleaning the bathroom, I can tell you that." She states and Sam chuckles.

"And, uh... how you doing with other family members?" Sam asks.

"I'm good. Other three teens keep me entertained, catching up with Billy is nice, you and Rissy are fine, Athy and the twins are... children. Aunt Natty and Uncle Jacob are fine."

"And your other uncle?" Sam prompts.

"He's my other uncle. What else do you want?" Libby shrugs, biting into a piece of celery.

"Has he apologized?" Sam asks.

"About what? Letting and making Cas knock me out. Judging me for having emotions, or locking me in a dungeon for being addicted to demon blood. Because answer to all is -- no."