Dean's quarters in the training center were bigger than his entire house back home. There were so many automatic gadgets with buttons that it made his head spin. Sam would've known just what every single one of them did, he was smart like that. It's a shame that the only way he would've gotten to use them would be if he was here, waiting for certain death.

Another shower. More new clothes. Getting called to a meal he can hardly eat. Dean wasn't ready for it all. He just wanted to sleep. Or at the very least have a private place to sit down with Charlie and talk about everything. The two of them share glances across the dinner table. Bobby and the Capitol Lady from the reaping, who Dean finally, albeit reluctantly, learned the name of, were discussing their strategy.

"You have to have some skills!" Lilith practically screamed at them, finally at her wits end. Dean didn't like her before, but he hated her now. He hated the way she wore her make up. Hated how she did her hair. Hated the sound of her voice. He hadn't realized it before, but it was like she was striving to appear as childish as possible. Was that a common thing for Citizens of the Capitol to do? It must be nice to pretend to be a child. Dean would never. District children go to the Hunger Games, not Capitol children. The fact that she could easily pretend to be a kid when it was literally a symbol of death for anyone else made his stomach twist. Because of that, he wasn't going to make her job easy. She was in charge of 'Watching' them. She was also the one that had to talk to people about their strengths and skills. It must make her job harder if she didn't know a thing about them. Luckily Charlie seemed to be thinking the same thing he was.

"We aren't as active as the rest of our district." A lie.

"I've never handled an axe in my life!" Another lie.

"Why would I know how to fight? When would I need to use that skill?" Probably the biggest lie of all.

Lilith tugged at her childish curly locks before storming out of the room. Once she was gone, Charlie and Dean turned to Bobby, who broke into a smile. "Now that shes gone shall we get to business?"

"Sure. You know the basic skills we have, other than that I can throw a mean punch. That's about it though." Dean told him honestly. When you had gotten into as many fights as Dean had, you learned fast. If someone came at him without a weapon, he probably stood a good chance.

"I'm good with electronics. Not that there will be any for me to make use of." She was good. Better than Sam even.

"You can swing an axe?" Bobby asked them, to which they nodded. Things like chainsaws made cutting down trees easier, but everyone started out with an axe until they could control something a lot bigger and mechanical. "They always have them. Find one, use it."

From what Dean could recall, there had been at least one axe in every Game he's seen. If he could get a hold of one, that would give him a significant advantage. The only problem was the Bloodbath. Once the Game started, everyone would rush the Cornucopia, looking for the best tools. That's how many Tributes die. Dean could either take his chances to get weapons, food, water, a sleeping bag, or anything else he might need, and risk dying, or he could run the other way and hide. Which also meant the risk of dying if he couldn't find food or shelter. Whatever Charlie decided was good enough for him. He was going to make sure they stuck together.

His eyes drifted to the servant refilling his glass. A plain girl dressed in white. Dean had seen a few of them around since he arrived at the Capitol. They never spoke, they never made eye contact… They made him uncomfortable.

"Dean?" Bobby's voice snapped him from his thoughts.

"What?"

"I was saying, don't show off your best moves until your Private session."

"My Private session?"

"Boy, did you listen to a single word I've been saying? During Group training try things you haven't done before. It's the perfect opportunity to learn something new that might save your life. Stay away from what you know. When you have a Private session with the Gamemakers, show off everything you can really do. If the other Tributes don't know what to expect from you, you might stand a better chance of making it further."

It made sense. If no one thought Dean was a threat then they wouldn't go after him first. He would take Bobby's advice and try everything new that he could.

That night Dean barley slept. He paced, he meditated, he even tried running to tire himself out. Eventually he wandered into Charlie's room. At least she was asleep. He didn't hesitate to climb into bed next to her. It wasn't the first time they had shared a bed, but it could be one of the last. Some nights when John was too drunk and angry, Sam and Dean would stay with Charlie. On the rare occasion Dean had to do questionable things to get food or money to feed Sam and he felt too dirty to go home, Dean would stay with Charlie. There was never any touching or cuddling or sex. Dean meant it in every way possible that she was like a Sister to him. He took comfort in her presence.

When he woke up, Charlie was already up and ready to go. She wore a black and green suit. He wasn't sure what it was made of, but it was more luxurious than anything he had owned before. A matching one waited in his own room.

After breakfast, they headed to the basement for training. The room is huge. Weapons as far as the eye can see. It looks deadly. Dean notices the other tributes in nearly identical outfits as him. Someone pins a 7 to his back. They're early, but not the first ones there. The rest of the tributes file in slowly after. He finally takes a minute to asses them. A few people stand out right away. Big ones with muscles. Small ones that look fast. The well fed children are all Careers. Figures.

Dean had come from one of the more wealthy districts, so he knew some of the others around him had grown up in worse circumstances. But even though his District had money didn't mean his Family did. After his Mothers death, their Father had lost his job due to drinking. No job means no money. Once Dean got old enough to do so, he made it his mission to take care of Sam, to make sure he always had food in his belly, and to keep John's drunken anger away from him.

Dean follows Charlie from station to station. His hands are on everything within his reach at all times. Bobby gave him advice, he was going to follow it. The one thing Dean tries to focus on the most is edible plants. The last thing he needed was to have him and Charlie come down to the final few and be killed off because he picked them out something poison to eat. He makes sure to steer clear of hand to hand combat, not wanting to let people know how secretly good at it he really is. Instead he watches, trying to pick up on new moves he doesn't know. Moves the other Tributes will be learning. Hopefully if they try them, he'll anticipate it.

For days they do this. Dean slides into bed with Charlie in order to get some sleep, they clean up, eat, and head to training. Few people talk to them, and Dean likes it that way. He's not here to make friends. They'll die anyways. He can't handle killing friends off. Slowly, Dean picks up a few skills here and there, so does Charlie, but he can't help wondering if it's enough. Will he need the things he already knows? Will he need any of the skills he just can't seem to master? If only he knew what the arena would be, he could make sure they better prepared themselves.

On the third day, they get called in to their Private sessions. Dean does everything he can to wow them. Combat, knife throwing, he even manages to throw an axe across the room and hit a dummy straight in the center of the chest. Weight lifting, and obstacle courses are the last thing he does for good measure. Bobby told them to impress the judges, so he would try his hardest. But was it enough? The higher the score, the more likely you were to get sponsors.

Waiting for the results is hell. Dean and Charlie just chat the whole time, trying to take their minds off it. At some point Bobby joins it, too. Lilith doesn't. Dean's happy that she realized how unwanted she is around him. By now she knows what skills he really has, but she's barely said a word to him since that first night. Just before the scores are announced, she shows up, sitting wordlessly by them. Dean doesn't spare her a glance. Her modified baby face only spikes the rage within him.

Picture, score. Picture, score. Careers do good, as usual. One even manages to get a twelve. That could mean they'll go after him first, bypassing their makeshift alliance. Dean wondered what he did to impress the Gamemakers. Whatever it was, he was the biggest threat as of now.

Charlie: 7.

Dean patted her on the back. They hadn't really talked about what they did in the arena, but at least she impressed them. A 7 would get her a sponsor.

Dean: 9.

He let out a breath he didn't know he had been holding. A 9 was more than he could've hoped for. A 7 and a 9. Someone would sponsor them, he was sure of it. With a sponsor, they had a better chance at survival. Bobby is thrilled. Lilith looks unamused. Dean ignores her and celebrates a little with Charlie and Bobby. He doesn't even bother to look at the rest of the scores for the other Districts. He could care less. Seeing their faces means he has time to memorize the faces of those about to die.

As much as he had been trying to avoid Lilith, Dean couldn't do it forever. Stuck with her for a few hours nearly killed him, but he powered through and even managed to listen to the advice she gave him. Smile, laugh, play nice, get the audience to like him. It was something he could do, whether he wanted their approval or not. He knew he needed it. It would help him in the arena. The more people that favored him, the more people would consider sponsoring him. Appearance was half the equation. Quality content was the other half. Bobby decided they would play to their strengths of being attractive. Charlie in a feminine way, which she wasn't too happy about, Dean in an androgynous way. The Capitol men were usually less than Masculine, so Bobby and Lilith both decided an androgynous approach would be better. Dean was too 'pretty' to be manly. He didn't care as long as it pleased the crowd.

For the interview, Bobby gave Dean two options. Talk about himself or compliment the Capitol. He hated both of those choices. He didn't want to tell them about his family. He didn't want to be another sob story. He also didn't want to butter them up with false compliments. What he really wanted to do was get up on stage and rant about how Citizens of the Capitol were disgusting Pigs that fed on the deaths of innocent children as a source of awful entertainment. But this was a game, a game that his life depended on, and more than likely his Brothers too. So he would play by their rules. Which meant he was about to lie his ass off in front of the entire Nation of Panem.

Again, Dean is scrubbed and scraped by his Prep Team. Just when he had begun building his layer of filth back up. The collar of his shirt is unbuttoned, showing off the skin beneath it. The loose jacket over it has the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His shoes have a wedge so high that he might as well be in heels. A thin wisp of eyeliner sweeps under each eye, making his green eyes pop. The makeup on his face his so thick that it covers each and every freckle he's been building up since childhood. They don't paint his face or dye his hair, and for that Dean is grateful. Looking at himself in the mirror, he decided the angle he will try to pull is 'suave'… It's worked before, he's sure he can pull it off again. Either that, or he would try to fall back on his dry humor.

One by one the tributes went on stage, got asked a serious of questions, and left the crowd cheering. Dean knew he had to try just as hard as they had. He watched the Host carefully. It was a new man than the previous year, so Dean wasn't sure what to expect out of him. Sandy hair, spiked up, tipped in red. Modified red eyes. A pure white suit topped off with a strange red flower Dean had never seen before. The man seemed unafraid of anything. No question was off limits. He seemed to take pleasure in making the Tributes uncomfortable. Dean wouldn't let him have the satisfaction. When his turn came he sauntered up to the stage, giving a painfully fake smile at the mass of screaming people.

"So, Dean, how have you been enjoying all the comforts of the Capitol?" They were hardly comforts. Not when you knew the only reason you got to use them was because you were being shipped off to die.

"Well, Luci, I can call you Luci, right?" Dean smirked at Lucifer, not waiting for a reply, instead gazing out to the odd faces in the audience, "I can't say I've ever had a shower quite like the ones here. I don't think I've ever been so clean."

Everyone chuckled, including Lucifer, though Dean could see something change in his eyes.

"Now, you volunteered to take your Brother's place. To claim all the glory and honor for yourself no doubt." Another cheer. Dean nodded. He wanted to scream that they are monsters for sending children to die, and that this was the only way to save his Brother. But if they called it an act of selfishness, then so be it. Let the lie continue. "Tell us about him."

"His name is Sammy. He's 14. We have matching tattoos. He's my world." It was the truth. They didn't have to know anything else.

"A tattoo? You've got to show us!" Lucifer looked at the crowd, encouraging them to roar in approval. Dean undid two more buttons, pulling the white fabric to the side, revealing his matching mark. He didn't button it back up. Eyes seared into his naked flesh. If this didn't make them like him, he didn't know what would.

He gave Lucifer a wink, hating himself for it, but knowing it was the right move when he heard the audience's approval. A few more questions, a bit of light flirting, then Dean was done. He watched Charlie next. She worked a soft, sweet, girly angle. Dean had to talk her into it. She had the looks, she could use it to her advantage. After that, Dean tuned the rest out, not wanting to laugh with the tributes, cry with them, feel for them. It would make everything easier tomorrow when Dean had to watch the life leave their eyes one by one.