Two:
Sam is walking to stage with a pale face and clenched hands looking like a rabbit caught in an opening.
My mind is whirring, trying to process what was happening. When he passes me I see a lock of his hair fall onto his forehead, and this detail pulls me back to myself.
"Sam!" the strangled cry comes from m throat and my muscles are moving.
"Sam!" I yell again. Sam turns around with a look of confusion. Two guards are trying to push me back in line but I push them away.
"I volunteer!" I scream. You could hear a pin drop. "I volunteer as tribute." I say as calmly as I can.
"Dean wait no!" Sam says, taking a step towards me, but he is being ushered back into line whilst I'm walking onto stage.
"Bravo!" Anna says with a grin, placing a hand on my arm.
"And what's your name?" she says.
"Dean Winchester." I mutter. Anna giggles.
"Well I'd bet my at that was your brother."
"Yes." I say hoarsely. Anna smiles again.
"Well come on everyone! Let's have a round of applause for our newest tribute!" To the everlasting credit to the people of District Twelve, not a single one of them claps. Maybe it was because they knew my Mother. Maybe it was because of my trading at the Hob. Whatever the reason, the only claps are echoing from Anna's hands. Then something unexpected happens. At first one, then another, then the entire crowd is pressing the three middle fingers of their let hand and is raising it in salute to me. This was a token of thanks, of appreciation, of saying goodbye. I hang my head because my eyes are starting to well up.
"Well, what an exciting day!" Anna chirps, eager to get the ball rolling again. Her heels click as she walks over to the seniors bowl. Her hand again reaches in and fishes around. Once back at the mic she unrolls the paper to read the name of the person of whom I'll be fighting against.
"Castiel Novak." Anna sings, her voice echoing. Castiel! No! Not him. I think, because though I haven't spoken to its owner I do recognize this name. No, the odds are not in my favor today. I watch as he makes his way to the stage. Medium height, normal build, and messy brown hair fall into his shockingly blue eyes. No one volunteers for Castiel, despite the fact that he has multiple brothers and sisters. This is expected though. What I did was radical. I try to talk myself out of the mild panic attack. Of course we weren't friends. Castiel had pulled me out of a well once a very long time ago. That was once though. Surely that didn't constitute a friendship. But how could I take the life of the boy who had once saved mine?