A massive thank you goes to Carsyn and CompanionOfTen for leaving a review last chapter.


Amicum et Inimicum ~ Friend or Foe
Chapter Three


Dean waited with his back towards the door. No one else came for the last few minutes, which annoyed him. They couldn't just leave Sam with him until the time was up, could they? He felt like punching them in the face most of the time, except they usually wore helmets to prevent that sort of thing from happening.

He heard footsteps on the other side of the door and quickly turned from his spot facing out the window. The shuffling stopped right outside and it was forced open. Immediately one man moved inside and grabbed Dean's arm, dragging him out of the room and out the back where the mentor sat looking away from them. The peacekeeper released Dean but stood ready, expecting him to bolt. Dean didn't. Instead he took a few steps towards the mentor. As Dean hoped, his mentor was not his dad. John better be taking care of Sam instead of coming with Dean to the Capital.

The man wheeled his chair over to meet Dean. The grim face of Bobby Singer regarded the Winchester. His Game, the sixty-fourth, had been especially hard. From the little Dean heard, Bobby and his District partner were the last ones in the arena and he was forced to kill the girl when she was driven mad by and turned on Bobby. Being quicker, he had come out triumphant with only his legs rendered useless, but Dean could see he never forgave himself. Neither did the rest of the District, which left him alone in the Victors' Village. Well, alone with the Winchesters. Which pretty much was alone…

"Hey, Bobby," greeted Dean, managing to keep his tone light.

The man nodded. He must have known the Winchester's tone was forced, but did not comment. "Dean," he returned.

At the sound of a door snapping shut, Jo was shoved outside and towards the two. She regained her balance quickly and closed the distance between her and their mentor.

"Y'ready?" Bobby asked.

"As we'll ever be," huffed Dean in response.


The train was already at the station when the team got there. It stood there silently as it glistened the sun. Being from the transportation district, Dean was familiar enough with it. He stepped in, expecting... well, unsure what to expect, but definitely not a dinner table, couches, and so much food (at least, that's what Dean concluded it was). Half the things on the table were so exotic he didn't recognise the things he did know.

The escort, Becky Rosen, flounced over to the head of the table and sat herself down, immediately picking up something pink and orange and plopping it rather delicately on her plate. Dean stayed by the doorway, taking it all in, while Bobby wheeled his way to the other side of the table. He glanced up.

"What are you waiting for?" he demanded. "Panem to fall? Get in here and sit."

Following their mentors orders, Jo was the first to come fully in, sitting across from Bobby and around the corner from Rosen. Dean took the seat as far away from Becky as possible, which was at the other end of the table. He watched Bobby help himself to bread and meat. After all these years being mentor he still goes for the plain food. Dean reached over and snatched something that looked appetizing: meat, lettuce, and tomato in between two slices of bread. It was larger than anything Dean had eaten before and had little hope for it. Taking a bite, he was instantly surprised.

It was the best damn thing he'd had in a long time.

"What is this?" he wondered, marvelling at the taste. Bobby chuckled.

"Called a 'burger,'" answered the mentor. "Not all the food is bad."

"Awesome. Love burgers," Dean mumbled, taking another bite of the sandwich. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Jo try to hide a laugh. Dean sent a playful glare her way. She merely shrugged and went back to her plate. If Bobby noticed anything, he did not say. Instead, he continued picking at his plain food. Becky Rosen was staring at a small screen, glowing in the shadows of the tablecloth.

Silence.

It was something he hated. It weighed on them heavily and, to battle it, he turned to Jo to strike up conversation, but she was engrossed in her thoughts, vacantly observing a bottle of something red that shouldn't have captured her attention so. Anything Dean could usually say to girls died in his throat and he quickly shut his mouth. While she was better looking than any other girl he'd hit on, he...

Stop it! he automatically scolded himself, and he dropped his thoughts.

He looked down; the only direction where he couldn't see someone. Just about now the reality of his situation was settling in his stomach and a wave of nausea rolled over him. He placed his half-eaten burger on the plate and pushed it away. He was missing Sammy more than ever. In the back of his mind, he felt two concerned gazes on him, but he didn't care—at least not then, not on the surface. Way down there, he cared too much. He cared too much for Sammy—that's why he volunteered. He cared too much for his dad—that's why he forced him not to mentor this year. He just wanted a carefree life, where everyone he cared about was safe and fed, and where they could live their lives in peace too! Was that too much to ask?!

The plates and bottles rattled as they shivered next to each other, shaking Dean from his thoughts. His fist rested on the pristine white tablecloth, clenched so tight his knuckles were white with strain. Bobby frowned at him.

"Are ya tryin' to break the table?" he demanded. Dean bit his lip, anger seething inside him. But was it really anger, or was it the empty void that had started growing inside him ever since he got on this goddamn train? He stood abruptly.

"I'm going to... wherever," he mumbled and stormed off down a hall at rndom, not caring where it lead.


Dean was found by Jo a couple hours later sitting in the last car of the train. His eyes were trained on the rapidly receding greenery and the tracks getting thinner and thinner until they met at one point on the horizon. He had his feet on the bench and was hugging them to his chest when Jo arrived. He barely acknowledged her presence at her entrance—other than hastily dropping his feet to the ground—and continued facing the trees. Only until she spoke did he respond to her being there.

"The weather looks like there's going to be a storm," she observed. There was nothing to it but that. Dean realised she was trying to get his mind off things, and probably help her in the process.

"Just how I feel," Dean replied, mostly to himself, but the girl nodded in understanding. They were silent for a while before Jo spoke up, answering an unasked question that had been on his mind for a few years now.

"I bet you're wondering why I started ignoring you at nine years old," she began, taking a shaky breath.

"I know you're trying to help, but just stop it there," ordered the Winchester. Jo bit her lip, but hesitantly lowered herself to a chair a few feet away from him.

"My mom didn't want... she didn't want your family to influence me."

He glanced back, his eyes narrowed a little, before turning away."Influence?"

"How my dad died," she replied. They both knew how it happened. His and Jo's father went out hunting for food. The peacekeepers heard a gun fire and went to investigate. Will Harvelle had sacrificed himself to let John escape and ever since, Dean's father had been beating himself up over it. And Ellen, well, Dean could only assume she hated all the Winchesters' very existence.

"And influence?" he scoffed. "How does that fit it?" Jo gave him a look like it was obvious, one Dean only caught by his second glance back. It probably was obvious though, Dean just sucked at this kind of thing.

"She didn't want me to follow in my dad's footsteps," answered Jo. The Winchester blinked. "Or yours." There was a pause. "Really, Dean, you were doing the same thing he did!" she explained, exhasperated.

Instead of the explanation making him feel better, he felt worse—like it was his fault her father was dead and his fault she was raised to avoid him and his family. In truth, it was his dad's fault, but he couldn't think like that. His dad would not be proud of a son who blame him. He would be proud of a son who obeys, of one who wins the Game. But how would he win the Game if Jo is a player?

"So, you were raised to hate me," summarised Dean. "Thanks." He stood and moved to the drink table, grabbing a glass.

"No. All she wanted was to stop me from doing what my dad did. She never said anything about hating you."

That's what it felt like, Dean thought, but kept his mouth shut. He took up a random bottle, something that looked like a drink his dad always drank, and tipped its contents into his glass. John had, once or twice, allowed Dean to try it. He had allowed Dean to do many things he probably shouldn't have been doing. He lifted the glass to his lips when Jo spoke again.

"Don't drink that!" she scolded, sounding very much like her mother. "You can't be getting drunk just before the games."

"And why not?" he challenged. "It's hopeless anyway." He lifted the glass again, but a sudden clap forced him to a stop. The glass was knocked from his hand and a red, stinging hand print was just starting to form. "Jesus, Jo!"

She only sneered. "You have a brother to get back to."

Dean scowled in response. "Everyone has someone. What about your mom?"

Jo glared, opening her mouth to reply, but shut it soon after. She shook her head, gave one last dirty look, and disappear back down the hallway.

"Jo! Hold on a mo—!" he tried to call out to her, moving forward to stop her. But she was gone, leaving Dean at the end of the hallway with nothing but the gentle drip of fluid off the bar and the steady sound of the train hissing along. Why, in with all that filling noise, did it sound so silent?


HELLO, dear readers! I apologise for the delay. Train ride chapters are always the hardest, second only to parade ones, as I never know what to include. I hope it was as good as the previous chapters before it.

Tell me what you thinked about the encounter with Jo in a review, as I'm not quite one-hundred-percent with it just yet.

Thank you for reading, enjoying, and... Adios!