This is a kinda AU from Suzanne Collin's book, Catching Fire. Where I replaced Finnick Odair with Dean Winchester, because I think they are much alike. There are also other Characters from both The Hunger Games and Supernatural in it.

I really hope this chapter turned out alright.

The evening was starting to settle in when the television went on. John was cleaning up the kitchen because Mary had done the cooking. But as soon as the television went on, the dirty plates were forgotten and John joined Mary and Dean who were already seated on the couch. They had already known that an announcement was to be made tonight, so the entire day they had been uptight, their eyes flickering to the TV every few seconds.

Dean's leg couldn't seem to keep still, and he bit his lips every few seconds as the seal of Panem bursts into the black screen. As if to prepare himself he leans forward, resting his arms on his legs. Mary gives him a reassuring look before turning back to the television as well, grabbing the hand of her husband.

They all breathe in relieve as Caesar Flickerman stands before the training center babbling happy about the upcoming marriage of Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark. Dean even goes as far as outright laughing in relieve. 'I really thought that would be something important,' he wants to say but instead keeps his mouth shut, watching photo's from Katniss Everdeen in the dresses the Capitol people had forced her into. And it all looks so wrong, so wrong to watch a seventeen year old girl in a wedding dress, while the Capitol mocks the victors. You never really win, it seems to say, you'll never get freedom you were promised.

Dean watches quietly as the audience booh's and cheers for their favorite – or least favorite dresses.

After the six dresses are shown Caesar tells the viewers that they can choose their favorite dress from twelve o'clock to the next day. He yells something to the audience and they all cheer. Dean is already reaching to the remote as Caesar tells them to keep watching, because tonight there is something big announced. And there forms a knot in Dean's stomach.

"It must be the reading of the card." John tells Dean.

The anthem plays and Dean presses his lips together as the hated face of President Snow takes over the television. He's followed by a young boy; barely older than ten, dressed in a white suit, clutching a wooden box in his hands. The anthem stops, and the knot in Dean's stomach tightens as the President begins to speak about the dark days from which the Hunger Games were born. When the laws for the Games were laid out, they dictated that every twenty-five years the anniversary would be marked by a Quarter Quell. It would call for a glorified version of the Games to make fresh the memory of those killed by the districts' rebellion.

Dean thinks of the rebelling districts, like district 11, as Castiel had informed him in between words. The President reminds everyone of the previous Quarter Quells.

"On the twenty-fifth anniversary, as a reminder to the rebels that their children were dying because of their choice to initiate violence, every district was made to hold an election and vote on the tributes who would represent it."

Dean doesn't even think about how that must've felt, send to your death by your own district.

"On the fiftieth anniversary," the president continues, "as a reminder that two rebels died for each Capitol citizen, every district was required to send twice as many tributes."

The year one of the only victors of district 12 won.

"And now we honor our third Quarter Quell." The president says, and the boy dressed in the white suit steps forward and holds out the wooden hands with slightly shaking hands. The knot in Dean's stomach is so tight that Dean thinks he might puke. People all over Panem are leaning forward, some in excitement and some in fear.

As soon as the president opens the envelope Dean thinks for a moment he might really puke. Without hesitation, the President reads, "On the seventy-fifth anniversary, as a reminder to the rebels that even the strongest among them cannot overcome the power of the Capitol, the male and female tributes will be reaped from their existing pool of victors."

Dean's stomach drops as Mary cries out and hides her head in John's shirt.

"Fuck!" He yells out and stands up.

"Fuck! Fuck! FUCK!" Dean's voice breaks on the third one. Frustrated he kicks the chair John had used earlier to change the light bulb with, causing Mary to gasp and John to yell a startled "Son!". Dean ignores them as he drags his hand across his face, his other hand on his hip. If he doesn't have to relive his nightmares, then his friends have to. The friends he made because he wouldn't have to fear for their safety. The friends he has to kill or be killed by. A strangled sob comes out of his mouth. He sinks to the ground as he thinks about how the 75th games must look like. It was hard enough to kill children he didn't know, but his friends? Castiel, Jo.. A sob makes his entire body shake.

As a red-eyed Sam and Jessica make their way into the victors house, Dean is already at his fifth glass of strong alcohol. His father is sitting on the chair next to him, with his mother's hand on his shoulder, desperately trying to gain Dean's attention. Sam walks towards his brother and lays a hand on his arm while Jess stands behind him, trying to stop the sobs that come out of her mouth. Dean's teary eyes find Jessica's and wants to tell her it's okay. The words form in his mouth and he opens his mouth to speak. Instead a sob breaks out and his body begins to shake as tears start to form in his eyes. He pushes all the comforting hands away. His vision is blurry because of the tears but he keeps his focus on the television, with the remote clutched in his hand. He watches as the faces of people he recognize come past. The faces of his friends, while a voice tells him how much changes of surviving they have. They also show them the most impressive moments of their games. Dean's entire body shakes as another sob fights past his lips as he sees his sixteen year old self pull the twelve year old Sam behind him, and this time he allows his brother to put his arm around him, pressing him against Sam's side, Sam is also trebling and tears fight their way out of his eyes. On another day Dean would've joked about Sam's Girlyniss. He would have said it in better times, but nothing had been really good since he had won his games at sixteen year old.

Only after he watches Castiel kill the last tribute with nothing more than some old metal stick he jumps up to run to the phone. It might be really stupid, to call another possible tribute, but he really needs the comforting voice of his best friend, and he doesn't care that it sounds really sappy. The phone rings twice before Castiel picks up. He turns his back to his family, who had all watched him jump up and run to the phone.

"Hello?" The voice that answers is a lot more lower than normal, and it's loathed with sadness.

"Cas?" He ask, his voice unsteady.

"Dean." His name is said with so much relieve that Dean smiles a half smile, nothing more than a quick pull of his lips.

"Heya Cas, how're ya doing?" He asks with what he tried to be a steady voice, talking with him as if it was a normal day.

It takes Castiel a moment to answer. "Not so good." He hears whispered to him before Castiel scrapes his throat.

"How are you, Dean?" He asks with a louder voice.

Dean shuffles on his feet, and turns to look at his family, who are all looking at him with concerned eyes. He turns around again and listens to Castiel's unsteady breathing for a moment before answer with a soft "same." It is quiet for a moment as they both listen to each other's breathing. Then Dean hears a loud crash coming from Castiel's side of the phone, followed by a couple of screams.

"Dean I – " Castiel never gets to finish his sentence as the connection is suddenly thrown off. Leaving Dean with the phone to his ear for a couple of seconds.

"FUCK" Dean screams again, scaring everyone in the room, and with a crash the phone is broken into pieces. The rebellions are put to an end by sending the victors into the arena, the last pieces of hope crushed under the thumbs of the Capitol. Well, if that's how they want to play it, then Dean Winchester has a little hell to raise.

Thank you if you actually took time to read this, and I hope it wasn't to bad. I know the characters are a bit out of person, I'm working on it..

I don't know when the next update is going to be. Please let me know if there is anything wrong with my grammer, I'm dutch so English isn't my first language..

Okay, bye? And if you liked it, see you next time...