"Samuel Winchester!" His Brother's name was called out like a shot out of the barrel of a gun. Aimed straight at Dean's heart. The air was knocked straight from his lungs, making it impossible to breathe, impossible to think. But as soon as Dean saw that mop of long brown hair move through the crowd, everything became crystal clear.
"I volunteer" Ignoring the shocked murmurs, he pushed his way to the front. "I volunteer as tribute."
All eyes were on him. It had been a long time since someone from his District volunteered. So long in fact that he wasn't even sure it had happened before. At least not in his eighteen years. They weren't careers. Dean didn't have any of the illegal training that they did. Yet he knew if he didn't volunteer now, he would never see Sam again. Young Sam, finally growing into his body. Dropping all that baby fat. Learning to talk to girls. Doing so well in his classes that the teachers wanted to speak to John about it… Not that John was ever around.
Yes, it seemed so obvious. If Dean wanted Sammy alive, he would have to take his place. He was eighteen, probably going to be one of the oldest Tributes. A fourteen year old had no place in the combat zone. His odds at survival were so much better than his Brothers. And he would survive. For Sam. He had to.
"A brave soul offering up his talents!" The odd looking Lady said with a smile plastered to her painted face. "What's your name young man? Please, come up here."
For once, Dean didn't have to push or shove his way through the crowd. The sea of bodies moved from his path as he approached the stage. He wouldn't look at them. He didn't need to see their eyes. Shock, disgust, pity. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Sam, now standing apart from the crowd, headed for Dean. Someone held him back. Dean was grateful for the small mercies. If Sam tried anything all Hell would break loose with the Peacekeepers. "Dean Winchester."
"Winchester! A Brother looking to claim all the fame and glory for himself." Dean tuned out her off pitch voice as she droned on and on about how he should be proud or some bullshit like that. This was a game to them, nothing more. If there was anything Dean had learned was that if you didn't play along to their rules, bad things happened. To you. To your loved ones. So, he would play the game, no matter how sick it made him.
"What can I say? Can't let Sammy have all the fun." He had become so good at faking smiles y now that the only one in the crowd who could probably tell was Sam. That's exactly why he wouldn't look at him.
The lady, whose name Dean never bothered to listen to, moved on to the girls. Dean ignored their terrified faces. He ignored the faces of every single parent in the crowd, praying it wasn't their kid picked. Instead he looked down at the necklace Sammy had given him so many years ago, he couldn't even place the age. Whenever he was nervous, he fiddled with it. Now was no different.
"Charlene Bradbury!"
No. Charlie. Bile swelled in his throat. Friends were far and few in Dean's life, but Charlie had always been the exception. No, she wasn't a friend, she was more like a sister. The Sister he never had. And now he was going to lose her too. Sending a prayer to whatever was out there that he didn't believe in, he begged someone would step up and take her place, like he did to Sam. Deep down, he knew no one would. Charlie had no sisters. Charlie had no friends. Charlie barely had family besides him and Sam. Neither of them could take her place.
She made her way up to the stage, taking the opposite side of the Capitol Pig, putting on the same show face that Dean wore. Don't let them see your fear, not this early. The ones who cried, screamed, resisted, they never lasted long. Dean needed to last as long as he could. He needed to make sure Charlie did, too. One of them was going to win this year, he would make sure of it. Charlie could take care of Sam just as well as Dean could. He trusted her.
Time flew after that, everything a blur. Dean didn't relax until Sam was in his arms saying goodbye. Then, and only then did Dean let a few tears fall. He hadn't planned on letting Sammy see him cry, but he couldn't help it when he saw how bad his Brother was sobbing and begging him to come back. That was the only time John had ever said he was proud of Dean. Stepping up to take his Brothers place. The only thing that did was harden his heart. A lifetime worth of trying to please John, and he finally managed to do it on Deaths Door. Better late than never.
Choosing his words carefully, Dean made sure he let Sam know that he would be back, and if not, then Charlie would. He wanted to make sure Sam wouldn't have to worry about where his next meal came from. One of them would be back for Sam. It was a promise he had every intention of keeping.
With one last goodbye, he was off, riding a full speed train straight to the Capitol. It was his first time on a train, and now the memory would be tainted forever. Speeding off to his death. His or Charlie's. Voices snapped him from his thoughts. A gruff old man stood with Charlie, already seemingly deep in conversation. Dean learned his name was Bobby, their mentor. He was in charge of helping them train, getting them sponsors. It was his job to try and keep one of them alive. He took that job very seriously. From the moment they left until the second they got to the Capitol, Bobby was nearly nonstop with tips and tricks on how to win. It was all so overwhelming, but he made sure to try as hard as he could to retain everything Bobby said. The man had won once, he must know what he's talking about. Any advice he could get would only help.
Wash up, change your clothes, eat. Simple directions, yet they felt so surreal. Dean was wearing the cleanest, newest clothes he had ever worn in his life. He was sure he had never been so clean before himself. The look on Charlie's face mirrored his. It was like they were raising prime pigs for slaughter. Which, was sadly true. Clean them up, feed them, send them to their inevitable deaths.
Dean had hardly said a word to Charlie since the Reaping. What could he say? 'I wont let you die.' He would try his hardest. Only one of them could make it out alive, only time would tell which one it would be. 'If I don't make it, take care of Sammy.' She knew that. They never even had to have the conversation. Charlie was as close to Sam as she was to Dean. They were family, and family took care of each other. 'I love you.' That one would hurt too much. It was admitting one of them would die. That's just something Dean couldn't say out loud. So instead, they shared their silence, listening to Bobby, retiring to their extravagant bed chambers when the time came. Things seemed easier that way.
The Capitol was even more shocking in person than in pictures he saw in school, or the videos that showed once a year for the Hunger Games. Bright colors everywhere. Buildings, clothes, hair, skin. It was more than a little frightening out of the pure shock factor alone. After that, Dean was absolutely fascinated. And disgusted. He was convinced he could be both. Citizens of the Capitol were Pigs, but their way of life was so alluring yet repulsive at the same time. An artificial City for artificial people.
The crowds gawked. Dean wouldn't give them the satisfaction of reacting. Poor Charlie couldn't help but turned red at the attention. She tried her hardest to ignore them. Dean snaked his hand into hers for moral support, something they had done since forever. Immediately he regretted it. The crowd went wild. He heard bits and pieces on conversations, everyone speculating they were lovers. Let them think what they want. It didn't make it true. Dean squeezed the hand tighter, taking as much comfort from it as he hoped Charlie was. As long as they stuck together, things would be fine. Or as fine as they could be, considering.
His plan lasted all of five minutes. They had been ushered into a larger, rainbow building, lager than one he had ever seen before, then whisked off to separate rooms. They referred to it as the 'Remake Center', a space to remake shabby District children into something the Capitol would love to ogle. Citizens of the Capitol were all into appearances, this was all part of the game, which means Dean didn't protest as they waxed his body. He just screamed internally as they pulled strip after strip from him.
"Normally, this is reserved for the Ladies. It makes them nice and soft. Delicate. Beautiful." The Woman with lime green hair told him. He would play their games, let them wax his body, dress him up pretty, and send him to slaughter, but Dean would e damned if he was going to remember their names. It was Green hair, tattoo face, and Snake eyes. They had corrected him several times before finally caving in. If these people were going to treat him like a doll, he wasn't going to treat them like people either. It was one of the few acts of defiance he could actually get away with. "But you're just so Pretty, that we feel this will go over better with the people."
It was something Dean had known for a while, that he had very good looks. Chiseled face, body, green eyes, a killer smile. A desperation to feed his family had forced him to embrace and use those characteristics to his advantage. However, looking in the mirror now, he hardly recognized what he saw. They really primped and primed him for the masses.
After the initial embarrassment of so many people seeing him naked finally wore off, Dean became quite compliant. Sure, it was weird, but he had never had someone wash him before, much less scrub him down the way they did. It was nice for a change. They rubbed him down with something that set his skin on fire before leaving a nice tingly clean feeling in its wake. Dean had thought he had been clean on the train. He was wrong. They had stripped out every fiber of filth on his body, straight down to his DNA. The one thing he wouldn't let them touch, remove, or cover up with make up was his tattoo. They could wash it, clean it, make it 'pretty', but they couldn't alter it. Dean nearly shoved Tattoo Face to the floor when he suggested it. It was a simple star, wrapped in a fire-like circle over his heart. Sam shared one in the same place. They had gotten them two years ago, both being far too young. Dean flashed his long lashes at the lady and flirted his heart out until she agreed. It was an old symbol, pre-Panem, yet it had been sort of a family crest, being passed down from generation to generation on all sorts of things. Dean had taken Sam out on his twelfth Birthday to get the tattoos together. Twelve, when his name would be put into the drawing. It was something they would have of each other. Just in case.
Finally when his three goonies were finished with him, they called in his Stylist. Her job was to shove him into a ridiculous costume for the Opening Ceremonies. Dean knew it would either be slutty or embarrassing. He wasn't exactly sure which he would prefer.
A few hours later, Dean was shaking his head staring at Charlie in disbelief. At least they looked good, which is more than he was expecting. For years District 7 tributes had been clad in tree related costumes. It made sense. They were the Lumber District. One year, they had even varied off from the norm by dressing them as some sort of origami covered masses of white. That hadn't gone over too well with the crowd, though Dean had thought it wasn't as awful as everyone said. Variation in their costumes was something that never went over well, which is why Dean was surprised that they weren't trees. They were Lumber Jacks.
The only variation between his and Charlie's outfits were that one was slightly more masculine than the other. Both wore tight black hats that hugged their heads. Charlie's beautiful red locks had been lopped off, barley long enough to reach the bottom of her cap. She didn't seem to care about it either way, but Dean thought she looked nice like that. She had a tiny black top that covered her breasts, and her breasts only, leaving her stomach bare. Over that was a red plaid vest, opened to show off the pale skin beneath. Dean wore the same vest in the same style, only he was completely bare underneath. Abs, chest, arms, it was all visible. He had never been so grateful that he had muscles to rival the Careers in District's 1 and 2. Finished off with cut jeans that ended halfway down their thighs, and thick, black boots, Charlie and Dean also each carried an axe. His only saving grace was that they didn't make him wear suspenders.
Climbing into their chariot, they waited their turn. Dean's stomach doing flips the whole time. It was time to show off their prized pigs now. It was sick. Dean laced his fingers with Charlie one more time as the Chariot started to move.
"Just smile and wave." Charlie murmured to him before taking her own advice. She was right. Pretty people got sponsors. Happy people got sponsors. People with sponsors lasted longer. It was a sick game and Dean had to play along to survive. He dropped Charlie's hand and started to wave at the people around him. He smiled, blew out a few kisses, made sure to butter up to the colorful figures around him. The crowd went wild.