So maybe I had written the first couple of parts earlier this year.
There is cotton in his ears.
Well. Not really. But that is what it feels like, standing there in the crowd, hundreds of people away from his brother. Sammy's shoulders go rigid and slowly the crowd begins to thin around him, giving him room to wade through to the stage.
"Sammy!"
The words are alien tearing from his throat, and his voice sounds far away. Dean makes to lurch forward, put himself up for the death sentence his brother is resigning himself to, but there is weight in his armpits holding him back. He doesn't remember the Peacekeepers being there earlier. When had they-?
"Sammy!" Dean hollers again, his throat dusty from the District 12 air. Little Sammy who was still four-foot-something and hasn't even learned to swim yet climbs the stairs to the stage, his face utterly unreadable. Good. If he were crying, Dean wouldn't be able to hold himself together. His palms are slick with sweat and wiping them on his trousers doesn't help at all. He feels feverish. He wants to go home and lay in bed and go to sleep and then wake up to Sam sitting on the bed by his hip, mopping his sweaty forehead with a cool, wet rag. Not this.
Crowley must have done some obligatory transition because Dean sees his arm once again dive into the reaping ball. It returns with a new slip of paper and Dean is stuck here, thinkingplease let it be someone strong who will let Sam win. Please.
His thoughts are interrupted by Crowley's voice again.
"Dean Winchester," he says with a raised eyebrow. "Don't be shy, darling."
And just like that, the Peacekeepers have released his arms. Dean can hardly believe his luck. Er. Well. The stuffing is free from his ears now and everything is horribly loud. No matter. Dean faces the crowd with a renewed sense of determination, even if he's doomed. He sets his mouth in a thin line and crosses the square in great, loping strides. This is a man on a mission, and he'll be damned if he shows the crowd a weak coward as he takes the steps two at a time to stand next to Sam on the stage.
Sammy. This time, Sam's face crumples and he coughs to get it back into a somewhat respectable expression. Dean shows no signs of noticing, staring the crowd down with a look he hopes clearly saysthis is my brother, and he will not show Reaping Day footage to all the tributes, but it's not entirely a bluff; Dean fully intends to make sure Sammy with the shaggy hair and upturned eyebrows from the Seam wins.
As Crowley makes his closing remarks, four Peacekeepers step up onto the stage to flank the brothers as they are escorted into the Justice Building.
Chuck Shurley scratches absentmindedly at his three-day-old stubble. For days now he's been poring over maps of previous arenas, trying to see what went wrong where. Of course, this is a silly notion, as nothing the Gamemakers ever manufactured has ever been less than perfect.
Nervous Chuck, getting performance anxiety, are you? You didn't get this job for nothing. He turns back to the blueprints.