A lot of people on tumblr were talking about how much they wanted a Supernatural/Hunger Games cross over, and I was happy to oblige. So here it is folks. Obviously some things have changed, and I give credit two whoever originally thought of the idea. Happy Hunger Games. Review and all of that fun stuff!
The crunch of the footsteps against gravel.
The smell of harsh, homemade soap against sweaty skin.
The Peacekeepers blinding white uniform.
The sweltering sun beating down on shoulders.
The prick of a finger. The wince of pain.
The shuffling forward, avoiding the eyes of those around you. The glare at the ignorant Effie Trinket, her hands gloved and clasped in delight.
The solemn faces of the women standing at the sides, the very few women…
It was an amazing sight. An amazing, a dreadful, an epic sight. The majority of the men in District 12, forced to be put in the reaping. All of the men, from ages twelve to thirty five. Women were no longer eligible for reaping, at least no longer in this district. There were too few, and we needed them. Now it was two men, two courageous young men, who were reaped and sent to their inevitable death.
An amazing sight indeed.
Dean Winchester stalked forward with the rest of his age group, his eyes searching endlessly for Sam. Dean's name was in the pool at least fifty times, not only for his age but for asking for extra food for his family. He had insisted that Sam didn't ask for any extra, but who knows what he did behind Deans back. They both knew that there were some men out there whose names were in many more times than theirs, but it didn't comfort them at all. Dean had two years until he was out of the pool, Sam had six. In two years, Dean would be ineligible for helping his family eat, and it killed him.
The crowds finally settled down, and Dean spotted Sam. Their eyes met, and Sam smiled grimly at him. To the sides stood the families; the men who were too old or too young to be reaped, the women standing with their husbands, with their children, with their little sibling. A girl with a braid stood beside two others, one that looked to be her mother and the other her sister. Her eyes were locked on an area behind Dean. He turned his head out of curiosity; finding a man with dark hair and eyes. Boyfriend, maybe. Dean didn't know or care. He was only worried about Sammy, only worried about his mother and father.
He went back to looking around the side lines, trying to kill time before the reaping started. There were people crying—some subtly and some not so subtly. He found his mother, her face grim. His father stood beside her, one hand resting on her shoulder in comfort. Dean sighed, averting his eyes. He had spent his entire life waiting for his name to be called, and eventually dreading his brother's name to be called. It was nerve wracking. He could only imagine what his mother and father felt, watching their two sons be practically tied down to the guillotine. They had managed to survive and avoid the reaping pool for this long. Only a few more years, just a few more years and the both of them could just focus on working in the mines with their father, until they grow old (oh, how he wished) and died. Such was the life in District Twelve.
"Thank you for joining us in the seventy fourth annual Hunger Games." Effie Trinket spoke up. "Join me in watching a very special film brought to you straight from the Capitol!" She swept a wide arm out, her ridiculous pink outfit fluttering with the movement. The screen that she gestured to lit up in bright colors, and President Snow's voice filled every previously silent nook and cranny.
"War... Terrible war. Widows, Orphans, a motherless child." Dean turned to Sam and rolled his eyes. Sam returned the gesture with a shrug, his eyes squinting against the sun. "This was the uprising that rocked our land. Thirteen districts rebelled against the country that fed them… Loved them. Protected them. Brother turned on brother until nothing remained. And then came the peace. Hard fought, sorely won. A people rose up from the ashes and a new era was born. But freedom has a cost. When the traitors were defeated, we swore as a nation we would never know this treason again. And so it was decreed, that each year the various districts of Panem would offer up in tribute one young man and woman," Obviously after all these years they couldn't be bothered to change it to match with District Twelves set of rules, "to fight to the death in a pageant of honor, courage, and sacrifice. The lone victor, bathed in riches would serve as a reminder of our generosity and our forgiveness."
"Generosity and forgiveness my ass." Dean muttered under his breath. Someone around him laughed, then coughed to cover up the sound.
"This is how we remember our past, this is how save guard our future." The video ended, and Effie gave a little wiggle.
"I just love that!" She looked down at everyone and grinned, her teeth even whiter than the Peacekeepers uniforms. Perks of living in the Capitol. Perfect teeth, perfect body, and the perfect ability to ignore the bullshit surrounding them. "Now, the time has come to select two courageous young men for the honor of representing District Twelve in the seventy fourth annual Hunger Games!" In the other districts, where women were still in the reaping pool, ladies would go first. If it was a young one, a twelve year old, there would be tuts of disapproval, but no one would make a move to replace them. Well, unless you were a Career. But here, in good old District Twelve, every male eligible had their name shoved on a tiny slip of paper inside a clear glass bowl.
At this point, time seemed to slow. Everyone was at risk. A few weeks from now, District Twelve would be two men short. There was no point in hoping for survival. Haymich was the last tribute from Twelve to win, and he was a drunken moron. Dean had to respect the man. He won during a quarter quell, and had twice as many people to kill than the average Hunger Games tribute. Now Haymich dedicated his life to mentoring the two poor bastards that ended up inside the arena. Oh, and drinking. Can't forget the drinking.
Everyone's eyes were locked on Effie at this point. The men who were thirty five, the men who had just this one last reaping to go and they were home free, they were the tensest. Honestly, it was more heartbreaking to see the thirty five year olds be called and see the look of death on their face. They had this last reaping… And they would be fine.
Effie clomped over to the bowl, her extra high heels clacking against the stage floor. Delicately pulling off the glove of one hand, she did a little hand motion and dove straight into the pool. It was like a tease. She shuffled around the bowl for a moment, and Dean could almost hear the pounding hearts of the men around him. She yanked her hand out, a little piece of paper stuck between two fingers. After wobbling back over to the microphone, she smiled out at everyone and pulled the piece open. Dean clenched a fist, his jaw working. It was a sick, sad, twisted world when you knew that everyone in the area was praying for someone else's name to be called. For someone else's "sacrifice." For someone else's death.
Effie took a deep breath, opening her mouth.
"This year's first tribute for the seventy fourth annual Hunger Games is…" Dean looked over at his brother and locked eyes with him. They were both praying, both hoping for the odds to be—"Sam Winchester!" In their favor.
There was a collective sigh. A scream from an unnamed women being held back by her husband. The blood draining out of a tributes face.
Dean felt like he was going to throw up.
Sam's face turned into stone as he walked past all of his fellow men. His footsteps were wobbly. He tried to ignore the sounds of his mother's pain, ignore the looks of relief and guilt of the people that surrounded him. He made it to the center strip where the majority of the peace keepers stood. It led straight to the stage were Effie was smiling, the sheet with his name still gripped in her hands.
"No." Dean said hoarsely. "No. No, Sammy, no!" His shouts turned into screams and he shoved past everyone, knocking someone over. A Peacekeeper reached him before he was able to get to Sam, and his yelling intensified. "No! I volunteer. I volunteer as tribute!" The Peacekeepers released him, and he turned his head to smile at his mother. He turned back and ran forward, throwing his arms around his brother.
"I believe we have a volunteer—" Effie said over the commotion. No shit.
"Dean, why did you—" Sam choked out, sounding half pissed and half depressed.
"I can't watch you go through that, man. I can't. Go to mom and dad. Go, please." Dean responded, blinking away the tears that threatened to spill over. Peacekeepers tore them apart, and Sam yelled Deans name. He stalked up to the stage, ignoring Effie's helping hand as he climbed the small set of stairs. He looked over the crowd of people and saw his family, his mother a weeping mess, clutching onto Sam for her life. They were all staring up at Dean, horror in their eyes.
"And who are you?" Effie smiled at Dean. With the heels she wore, she was eye level, and Dean met her gaze with a level glare.
"Dean Winchester." He spoke flatly, both of his hands clenched into fists.
"Oh, I'll bet my hat that was your brother, wasn't it?"
"Yes."
"Oh, how exciting. Everyone, give a warm round of applause to District Twelves very first volunteer!" No one moved. They simply bowed their heads in unison, eyes closed.
A few moments of silence passed.
"And how, for tribute number two!" Effie gave Dean a pat on the arm and quickly walked back over to the bowl, reaching in and pulling another slip out. A few seconds later she was back at the microphone, her perfume wafting over to Dean. He resisted a sneeze.
"This year's second tribute is… Castiel Novak!" Ah, the familiar sound of tutting. That was the only sound that came from the crowd, other than a little noise of pain from a woman. He must be one of the thirty fives.Dean thought. No one volunteered for him.
He came up on the other side of the stage, tired lines under his eyes. Dean recognized him from around town, but they had never spoken before. They just stared at each other, both fully aware that there may be a time where they are forced to have to kill each other.
"Go on, you two. Shake hands!" Effie backed up slightly, giving the two men room to reach across from her and clasp hands. They shook, the look of disbelief still evident of Castiel's face.
"Welcome to the seventy fourth annual Hunger Games! And may the odds be ever in your favor!"