Author's note: I do not own Supernatural or The Hunger Games (not the books, not the movie/series), nor any of the characters mentioned in this piece of fan-made work.

This is an experiment, so please don't hate it. Really, please. I hate hate.

A The Hunger Games !verse Destiel fic . aka a The Hunger Games / Supernatural crossover.

ok that's it.

enjoy!

I had no desire to get out of bed this morning. It was one of those early hours when the mattress is just too warm to let go of, and my pillow was unusually comfortable; maybe because I went to sleep ten minutes after 2, but it doesn't matter. What was really difficult, though, was seeing dad cooped up in his room again, the door closed, and I could literally smell the booze seeping from the crack between it and the floor. It made me feel sick to my stomach, but then again, all alcoholic drinks do. Dean would say it was because dad was in question, but I hate drinking in general, whereas he doesn't stop to think before taking some from that woman in the Hub. She always gives it to him for a skinned rabbit, which is a fair trade in his book. I don't agree, he could get some salt or even a bit of flour with that, but he spends it all on drinks. He knows better, though. He knows that trading food for his own guilty pleasure isn't gonna help him raise his little brother, specially since John got killed two years ago and they're alone. But I help out as much as I can, even give him a few rabbits and dogs for free, but he gives me herbs and weapons in exchange sometimes. It works nicely, our partnership. He helps out with Anna and Alfie, my younger siblings who are always, and I mean always, hungry or thirsty or in need of clothes, and all of those things don't come cheap here; however, I come over and cook for Sam while Dean goes hunting alone, but I often come with. He uses knives, I use arrows, so we make a good team when there's a particularly busy day in the woods, which seems to be every third day, I think. The animals just come to the fence, knowing that the electricity's been cut off for months now; they turn it on when summer's at its peak and kids wanna sneak out and bathe in the lake, to keep them at bay, but Dean and I know better than to trust the fake buzzing noises they let out of the speakers all around town, just loud enough to be heard when you're at the District's edge, but not loud enough to be noticeable anywhere else. It's a good plan if you think about it, but we don't, so it's not.

We're supposed to meet in two minutes at his house, and he know's I'll be on time. Sometimes he mocks me by coming late to our designated meeting spot, which we aren't using today because of a few reasons; one, the guards are everywhere today, and if they see us near the fence we might as well sign up for a public shooting right then and there; second, Sam's awake already and eager to come with, but Dean won't let him. He's too young to get sucked into this, man!, he protested yesterday, and I nodded. It was true. I know that if Alfie, or, God forbid, Anna, wanted to come hunting, they'd be given one heck of a speech from yours truly. No way are we letting kids kill animals to provide for their family, it's bad enough that we've been forced to do so by the cruelty of fate; and, lastly, it's the day of the Reaping. And I wouldn't normally be this scared if it wasn't for the fact that my name has been entered 45 times. Five times because of my age, and the rest is for the tesserae, ten for each member of my family - a supply of oil and grain to last us for as long as possible. I took that much because I fear that my name will be drawn today, and that I might not come back to use mine up, so they'll just have more to themselves. At least they won't starve for a good two-three months, and by that time dad will probably snap back to normalcy and realize that I'm gone and that my brother and sister need someone to take care of them. However, if such a thing should happen, I have told Dean to take care of them if my father is unable to. He'll go hunting for meat and give it to them for free, cook two times a week if he can manage it, give them bread and teach Alfie how to hunt next year when he turns nine. Anna isn't allowed to hunt, she can pick herbs and grow vegetables, if she can muster up the trade to get seeds; and he agreed because of our friendship. If he's to get called forth, I will take Sam in and care for him as if he's my own brother, which he is in a way. It's a fair deal.

I knock on the wooden door three times, accidentally peeling off a part of the already withering surface, and I hear Dean sigh in relief and his footsteps heading to meet me. He smiles when the door opens, and on any other day I would find it comforting, but not today. I can feel the rising fear in my stomach when his smile flattens and a frown replaces it, and all I can do is wrap my arms around him, and he does the same. It's not weird, us holding each other like that. I suppose that it doesn't really matter how we act in these times. No one judges you because people are fighting to survive and not starve to death or freeze to death when it's too cold to keep warm, and they don't whisper about you when they see you with another man because we're all desperate for human contact. It's not like that with us. It's not desperation we seek to heal, we just have a very complex relationship, one that's very hard to explain, even to ourselves. I remember how we first met, though, and never once did I think that simple moment would define the rest of my life, but it did.

It was a rainy day, I remember. Six years ago, we had both just turned 12 and were eligible for our first ever Reaping. Dad said I'd be okay, he even patted me on the back, and I could smell the drinks on him when he did so. Anna and Alfie were so small back then. She had just started talking, and Alfie was doing his best to keep her from crying when they called us to write our names in for the drawing. I put it onto 21 name cards that day, and I remember having a panic attack moment before Meg Masters, the host lady with a large blonde wig that had her natural hair sticking out underneath, came to that stage in the town square and out her hand in the first glass bowl. They changed the rules recently, before you could only draw one girl's name and one boy's name, but now the tributes can both be of the same gender. The Games have served as a way of bringing the people of Panem, our world, formerly known as North America, together, making their children fight to the death in an arena so they could restore obedience. As a way of announcing time after time, year after year, that the people of the Capitol own us, that they're superior and better in every way imaginable, even though we all pretend to believe it and none of us actually do.

I stood in line on my own for a while, and that's when I saw Dean for the first time. He was comforting his father, who was holding a very young Sam in his arms. He was a head shorter than Dean was, but still looked to be a t least four years younger. He was crying, and Dean wrapped his arms around him and whispered a 'It's okay, Sammy. I ain't gonna get called on this, you'll see.', and Sam replied with a weak smile, and Dean walked over to the line, standing right behind me at the moment. We stood in silence, looking over to the front of the line which seemed to stretch so far that the end couldn't even be seen.

"Are you scared?"- I asked, and regretted talking right afterwards. He shifted awkwardly, as if it was unusual to talk to someone you don't even know, even in a community as small as District 12.

"Yeah, it's... It's my first time entering. You?"- he replied, and I knew then that he wasn't worried about talking to a stranger and, now that I think about it, potential enemy, but that he was actually as terrified as I was. Of the possibility of having to kill people, children, just like you for the sake of a twisted tv-show made to entertain and please, and discipline. Of the thought of never getting to come back home and hug your parents or brothers and sisters, friends. It all hit us both right then and there, and we stared into each other's eyes for a very long time, not saying a word. I finally spoke, when I noticed that he had glanced away for a moment.

"Mine too. My name's already inside 21 times. I had to take the tesserae for my family and myself. What about you?"- he looked back at me at the question, and his face went pale with worry.

"Mine's in there 10 times."- he answered, and I felt a sinking feeling in my stomach. Kids my age were getting their names inside half as many times as me, and they were worried shitless. What was I supposed to be doing then?

"Do you think they'll call my name?"- I asked, and Dean shook his head.- "Why not?"

"Because I say so."- he said, and I felt relieved for some non-comprehensive reason, as if it was all I needed to be sure that my name would definitely not be called that day, so much so that I extended my hand and smiled to him, a stranger whom I had shared one conversation with, but who had made me feel better than my own family had. He took it and we shook hands, holding on for far longer than needed.

"I'm Castiel."- I said, and his eyebrows furrowed.

"I'm Dean."- he smiled shakily.-"Can I stand here with ya, Cas? I don't know anyone else."

"Yeah."- I answered, and we stood together in the mass of kids and teenagers, some crying, some anxiously waiting, some looking bored of just being there.

I remember getting a warm feeling in my stomach because of the nickname he had given me.

Meg came to the stage and, sure enough, our names were not called. It was two boys, around 16. One of them volunteered for a 12 year old girl who started crying, which I though was odd at the time. Now that I think about it, I would have done the same, and I would do it now if need be.

We walked away from the square and to a less-busy street near the part of the District we both lived in, and where we still live now. He was silent, and I wondered if it was from relief or shock.

"It's gonna be just like this next year."- I said, and he shook his head.

"Nah, It'll be worse."

I agreed, and when we reached my house, which was a row of more identical houses away from his, he smiled at me through tears of relief and flung his arms around me, and I did the same.

"Thanks for making me feel better today, Cas."- he said into my ear, and I smiled.

"Thanks for being right."- I said, and he pulled away.

"You're welcome."

And he went on his way, and I went into my house and was greeted by a relieved dad and happy siblings, and we had rabbit and herbs to celebrate that evening, as did Dean and his family.

"Oh, look, right on time."- Dean mocks and pulls away, masking the frown with a fake grin, and I chuckle against my will. He always has that ability to forget all the crap that's happening to me, to the world, and take it all away and make me smile even when there really isn't no reason for me to do so.

"You said you needed help with Sam?"- I ask, closing the door behind me, careful not to knock off more of it while doing so. He turns around to face me, and I can see his expression clearly. He can never mask a lie very well, but I suppose it's easier to do it on the phone than in a situation where I can look him in the eyes and read him like a book, and it's the same the other way around.

"Yeah, um, about that..."- he hesitates, and I feel worried for a moment before I spot the paper bag on the living room table. He went to the bakery today, and the smell of still warm and fresh bread makes both our mouths water. I haven't tasted bread like that in months, we can't afford it often.

"You didn't?"- I ask, knowing what the answer is before he even says it out loud.

"Though it was a good idea, seeing as were shoe-ins for today's Reaping."- he smiles, but it isn't a laughing matter, and when he sees my worried face, his smile fades. I know he's only masking the worry with jokes, excuses and fresh bread that smells even more tempting now, but we both know that our names have a good chance of being called out today.

"How many times?"- I ask, and he runs a hand over his face.

"42."- and he sees my shocked face, so he continues,-"I took teserae for me and Sam, ten each."

"That's only 26, Dean."- I say, and he frowns.

"I took some for you and your family."- he elaborates, all with a painful expression because he knows how I'll react to the gesture. He always tries to do this, always tries to help me take care of my family and myself. And he knows very well that Michael and Gabirel told me not to take tesserae for them.

They're older now, not eligible for the Reaping, which means they can't sign up for the tesserae, which means that I, as the only child in the family who can do so, have an obligation to do it. They told me, though, that I cannot under any circumstances risk getting my name drawn because of a dozen more ballets, and dad agreed. Sometimes I do, however, and I lie and say that I miscounted, and Dean knows that I do.

"I told you never to do that, you idiot!"- I yell out in frustration. He's gonna get his name drawn because of me one day, and I'm gonna kill him before those other people even try to.

"Well I had to! You can't enter your name in that many times for the four of you, and then some for your older brothers, Cas."- says Dean, and then he sighs and takes a deep breath before continuing in a more calm voice,-"I did it for you, and it's done. Now, you want the bread or not?"

I sigh. He really is unbearable at times, and no way am I gonna forgive myself if he gets called. I'll just have to volunteer instead of him, and he can take care of my family when I'm gone. He'll manage, he's smart like that, always setting up new types of animal traps and growing suspicious looking plants that taste delicious when cooked or roasted, sometimes even raw. Yeah, he'll manage, and Alfie and Michael, maybe Gabe, can help him. Sam's old enough to help, too. The important thing is that Dean isn't called forth and sent to the arena, because he won't be able to kill those kids, and they will be able to kill him. And I can't let that happen, I won't.

"If they call my name out there..."- I say with a mouth full of warm bread, and good God it tastes just as good as it smells. Dean's eyes widen at the mention of today's event, and he nearly chokes on his own mouth-full.

"Don't say that."- he coughs, and I shake my head.

"Listen to me, Dean, okay? Just hear me out for once about this."- and he shuts up and tosses aside whatever it was that he was about to say, so I continue,- "If they call my name today, which is very possible and we both know it, I want you to do something for me."

"Cas, come on, we've talked about this enough times. I kno-"

"I want you to not volunteer for me, because I know that you were planning on it."- I say, and he sighs.

"How?"

"You aren't exactly secretive, Dean Winchester."- he rolls his eyes at the comment,-"Anyway, you have to promise me that you won't do it. You need to stay here and take care of them, because I won't be able to do it from the arena, and I certainly won't be able to here on my own."

"So let me get this straight. It's okay for you to sacrifice your life to save me, but I can't do the same for you?"- he asks and i nod in agreement. Good, he understands the concept.- "Now, how is that fair?"

"It's not supposed to be fair, Dean. It's a matter of survival and what would be best for both out families, and I think that what's best is you."- I say, almost losing my temper because he just doesn't understand that I can't do the things he can, at least, not as well. He'll be able to provide for them all, and for himself, and they won't starve if he's here to make sure of it. With me, on the other hand, that isn't as certain.

"You think so little of yourself, you know?"- he asks, and now it's my turn to roll my eyes.

"Please don't. We both know I'm right."- it makes him chuckle before realizing that I'm serious.

"Are you kidding me? You can shoot three rabbits with one arrow, right between the eyes, every single one of them. And if it wasn't for you I would have probably died from poisoned plants a long time ago. So don't sell yourself so short, man. Don't do that."- says Dean, and it makes my stomach turn. Okay, so I can shoot arrows and kill helpless bunny rabbits, what's that got to do with hunting real animals that actually bring home the goods? Nothing.

"Stop."- I shake my head,- "Stop talking about it and just promise that you won't, under any circumstances, volunteer instead of me. Promise me, Dean."

A moment of silence. One he spends thinking about all of this, and I do the same. He knows how strongly I feel about this, and he knows that I won't give in when it comes to our families and him. They're too important to us both. He sighs, and with that I know what I've won the argument.

"I promise, okay? Fine, there. I promise."- he says uncomfortably, and I know that every fiber of his being is telling him not to keep his word, but I also hope that he'll fight that urge and do what's best for all of our loved ones and, frankly, for the both of us too.

Welp, I wrote a thing.

Is it good? Did you hate it? Am I kicked out of both fandoms for representing them both in a shitty way? The shittiest way possible?

I'm sorry, please don't kick me out!

No, just kidding, I know it wasn't that bad, ok?

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Love you all. 3