The next day, Pamela opens Dean's door with more flourish than necessary. She practically shouts at him to get up, squealing that it's going to be a "big, big, big day!"

Dean groans and rolls over.

"Dean Winchester, it's the day of the individual sessions so you better get up and get your game face on!" she says, leaving the room.

Dean suddenly sits up in his bed.

The individual sessions.

A pit forms in his stomach.

He hadn't even thought about the individual sessions. During the training and even during most of the Games, Dean knows he can protect Castiel and shelter her from all the bad things that will inevitably happen. But during the individual sessions, it's her vs the Gamemakers for fifteen important minutes. If she doesn't do something spectacular, they're not going to give her a high score.

Even more importantly, if Castiel doesn't get a very high score, she won't get any sponsors. And if she doesn't get any sponsors, she may miss out on something in the arena that will keep her from death. Like matches, or water, or medicine, or… anything.

The pit in Dean's stomach grows larger.

He gets out of bed and considers taking a shower. He checks his watch – he either has enough time to shower or go eat. He figures it'll settle his stomach to get some coffee, so he throws on some clothes that the Avoxes have laid out for him. It's uncomfortable and tight, but Dean throws it on rather than protest. He walks into the dining area and sees Castiel eating tensely and listening to Bobby.

"Now, when you go in, there'll be a … well, good mornin', sunshine," he says to Dean when he notices him.

Dean nods and grabs a plate and a cup of coffee, He pauses for a second. He knows if he sees her, he'll start to panic for her and he can't afford to do that, so he just avoids Castiel's eyes.

"Hello, Dean," she says.

Damn it. He looks up and gives her a weak smile.

Bobby takes a sip out of his coffee cup – Dean assumes there's some type of liquor in it, he wonders if Bobby would share with him – and continues. "There'll be all kinds of weapons. Knives, bows, make sure you use them."

"What are they looking for?" Castiel quietly asks.

Bobby shrugs, "They're just trying to access your strength. The ratings are just to give other tributes and the people that bet on the Games a sense of where you stand. Careers usually get really high scores."

"What about outlying districts?" Castiel asks.

"Usually anywhere from 4-8," Bobby answers, chewing his bacon.

Castiel's face falls and it's replaced with panic. Dean can pretty much see her thoughts as if they're pasted on her forehead.

Dean glances at her, "Just because they're normally low doesn't mean they will be this year."

Castiel looks up at him and Dean can see the hope start to form in her eyes, "You think so?"

Dean nods, "Absolutely."

"It's not very hard. In fact, the kid I had 6 years ago got a 10," Bobby continues. "Just find some way to make them remember you."

Dean takes a deep breath, locking eyes with Castiel. Her big blue eyes are sad, and Dean knows that she realizes exactly what he has – he can't help her here.

The rest of the meal is eaten in silence.

The elevator is empty when he and Castiel enter it and press the button for the bottom floor. Dean's grateful – less people he has to convince that he's okay. Castiel stays silent, fiddling with a loose string on her pants. Dean wonders if she's as worried about him as he is about her.

To be honest, he shouldn't even be worried about her, and it aggravates him. He should be worried about winning the Games and getting back home to Sammy, who probably hasn't left the house since Dean was reaped. He knows that school is out during the Games, so it's not like he has to miss that, but Dean is legitimately worried. Has Mary kept her promise and taken care of Sam or has Jo had to take care of her own family and his? He closes his eyes and silently hopes that Jo has had good luck hunting in the woods. He doesn't wanna think about the alternative.

He wishes he had talked to the butcher or the baker or someone about feeding Sam and Jess if Jo couldn't hunt. He shakes his head and opens his eyes – he knows better. No one in the Hob or the district would let Sam and Jess starve because he and Jo were so well-known and liked. And now that he's in the Games? Dean nods his head, no one is going to let Sam starve.

He takes a deep breath as the elevator rises.

When the elevator dings and opens, Castiel puts a hand on Dean's shoulders. "It's okay, Dean. Everything is going to be okay."

Dean gives her a smile, "I know it will."

The two of them walk side by side to the waiting bay, where the other 22 tributes are already seated. The only two available seats are behind Ruby and Benny, the tributes from 11, so Dean nudges Castiel in that direction and they take their seats.

Everyone is silent, it only adds to the tension in the room. HE wonders how many of these tributes are going in the room with a plan of attack, a certain weapon they're going to use, a certain trick they're going to try. He wonders how many of these tributes are going in terrified, with no idea what they're going to do.

He bets the 13 year old human from District 6 is about to piss her pants, he looks up to see her quivering in her seat. He nudges Castiel and nods in the 13 year old's direction. Castiel narrows her eyes and tilts her head to the side, "Why is she afraid?"

Dean shrugs and puts his head down.

One by one, tributes are called out. From District 1 to District 11, the pit in Dean's stomach grows to the point that he has to bury his face in his hands. Around District 7, Dean feels Castiel reach for his hand. It surprises him, but he gives her control of his hand and she lets their hands rest on his thigh. He considers what the other tributes would say, but then realizes he really doesn't give a shit.

He squeezes Castiel's hand and reaches for the other one.

No words are said. No words need to be said.

They sit that way, holding each other's hands until Dean's name is called.

He stands up, looks down at her, and nods. It's a brave nod, as if he has to convince himself that he can do this. Castiel smiles, "Good luck, Dean."

He nods again, "Good luck, Cas." He turns around and walks through the open door.

The room is large and open, filled with weapons like the training center had been yesterday. Dean zeroes in on a bow and a dark smile fills his face as he half-runs to it. He runs his hand over the metal and tests the string. He picks an arrow he likes and walks over to the target he was aiming for yesterday – he can still see the holes off the target where he missed on purpose.

He looks up at the balcony to see all the Gamemakers laughing and stuffing their faces with food and drink.

Dean's blood starts to boil, no wonder the outlying regions always get low scores – the damn Gamemakers are too drunk by then.

"Dean Winchester," he announces. The Gamemakers quiet for a few seconds, nod at him, and go back to their meals.

Dean shakes it off and goes back to the target. He remembers his words to Castiel yesterday: "aim small, miss small," so he chooses a small portion of the bull's eye and pulls the string back. He takes a deep breath and lets it soar, hitting the bull's eye in the dead center. He smiles and leans back, proud of himself.

He looks up at the Gamemakers and see that they're still scrambling for wine. Someone brings in a pig and they all start to exclaim.

Dean's blood starts to boil even more. He needs a good score, and his bull's eye should have earned him at least an eight or nine. Hell, Cas needs a good score too. Dean's hands tense on the bow – he's got to do something to get their attention, something to let them know that District 12 won't go quietly, that he and Castiel are different.

The first step is to make sure they pay attention to him and Castiel whenever she comes in.

When the pig is brought in, Dean sees an apple in its mouth. He smiles to himself and before he knows what he's doing, he knocks the arrow back and aims.

With a loud thud, the arrow sinks through the apple and hits the wall behind the Gamemakers. They instantly go silent, all turning to look at Dean.

He smiles widely and mock-salutes them, "Thank you for your consideration."

He sets the bow back where it goes and turns on his heel to walk out of the door. He decides to wait by the elevator for Castiel, because somehow he feels like they should face Bobby and Pamela and Ash together. He doesn't wait for more than 30 minutes before Castiel comes out of the same door that he did.

Dean gives her a smile, "How'd you do?"

Castiel smiles back, "Good, I guess. They paid a lot of attention to me. How about you?"

Dean chuckles and looks away as Castiel presses the elevator button. "I, uh, I shot the apple from the pig's mouth."

"What?"

Castiel's eyes are wide, "Dean what did you do?"

Dean shrugs, "They weren't paying attention. They'd already written 12 off, and I'm not gonna let that happen. We deserve a chance."

Castiel shakes her head in silence as they ride to the top of the building.

"Pamela is not going to be happy, you know."

Dean chuckles, "That uptight bitch needs to let loose a little bit."

He's not completely sure, but Dean thinks he sees a smile play at Castiel's lips as the elevator doors open.

…

To say that Pamela wouldn't be happy was an understatement. She paraded around the penthouse floor, screaming at Dean for his mistake. Ash had chuckled and given him a fistbump and Bobby had given him a drink of his whiskey to celebrate.

Dinner had been tense, mainly because Dean told Pamela that there was no way in hell he was going to apologize to the Gamemakers.

"Dean, that's just plain rude," Pamela had huffed in her seat.

Dean shrugged, "Making me kill 21 people for fun is a little rude too."

"Dean," Castiel had hissed. "Stop."

Dean just shrugged, "It's the truth."

Castiel had shaken her head, "Look, I don't wanna be here either, but the Games are necessary. The Capitol says we have to do it, so we do it. Follow the rules, okay?"

Dean had let the conversation drop and hadn't said anything until that evening, in front of the television.

Bobby sits on the big couch with a bottle in his hand. Ash sits beside him, shotgunning a beer. Dean desperately wants another drink of liquor – just enough to numb his aching head. The TV comes to life with Gabriel and Azazel talking about the tributes.

"We promised you that we'd have an exciting round of tributes this year!" Gabriel gushes, smiling wide at the camera.

Dean can feel his hand tightening around the arm of the chair he's in, anger pulsating through him. Rather than rant against the Capitol again, he just pictures ripping Gabriel and Azazel's lungs out. After a few minutes, he relaxes.

The announcers go through each of the districts, calling out the scores. The Careers score high – as normal, Dean's not really impressed. The human from 5, Bela Talbot, scores a seven and Dean cocks his head to one side, trying to imagine how she did it. He's unsurprised to see Benny score a nine since he's built like a Career, but Ruby manages to score only a five. Dean feels bad for her.

Then Castiel's picture comes on the screen. Gabriel smiles and looks down at Cas's picture.

Dean can feel Castiel tense up on the couch beside him as she leans forward in her seat. Dean finds himself leaning forward too.

"From District 12, Castiel. Classification: angel. A score of… eight."

Sighs erupt from the room. Dean grabs Castiel's hand and squeezes it while Ash claps her on the back.

"Good job," Bobby says, nodding his head in approval.

"Atta girl, Cas," Dean says, squeezing her hand.

She squeezes back with her left hand as her right points to the screen. "It's your turn now, Dean."

"Dean Winchester," Azazel smirks. Dean's skin crawls at the way Azazel says his name. "Human from District 12 with a score of… eleven."

The room stays silent for a few seconds as they all sit with mouths wide open. Then they erupt. Pamela and Ash rise from their seats and congratulate him, clinking their glasses together and making toasts. Castiel just sits beside him, quietly smiling and holding his hand, squeezing it every few seconds to let him know that she's there.

Dean just politely smiles and takes it all in, but his mind races. Why would they give him a score like that? Yeah, the shot was really good, but an eleven? Dean's only seen them give scores that high once in his entire life.

Panic starts to set in.

Sure, Cas got noticed and they gave her a great score, but what they hell has he done to himself?

"I guess they liked what you did," Bobby chuckles, taking another sip of his drink.

Or they made me a target, Dean adds in his head.