Dean took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He was mentally prepping himself for the day and what was to come.

The games would begin today.

For all Dean knew, he could be a cold blooded murderer by the end of the night, or he could be dead himself. The worst thing was that he knew that his little brother and his best friend would all be watching, making sure and just confirming that he was, in fact, a monster. Dean caught himself stroking the soft bedsheets that covered his bed and his body, and a regretful smile formed on his face.

It was such a shame that these sheets would go to waste for a full year.

Part of Dean wished that he would make it out of these games and come back home a hero; his whole District would cheer for him as a years worth of food rained down upon him. Sam would puff out his chest in pride and Castiel would beg Dean to take him over and over again. Dean would be moved into the Victor's District and he and Sam would want for nothing, their bellies would be completely full and they would never have to worry about hearing their water for bathing, hunting out illegally in the woods for food, or even for the clothes on their backs. Dean could give Sam a soft bed even softer than the one he has been sleeping on, and a comforter thicker than Sam. Sam would never be cold, and he would never be hungry again.

But that was the smallest part of Dean.

The largest part of Dean hoped that he would die in the arena. Die a hero's death, and would never come back home. Dean was too scared to face Castiel glaring at him with horror and hatred for the blood that stained his hands. He didn't want to see Sam's remorseful face as his little brother looked up at the man who had to kill just come back. Dean couldn't stand the whispers that he could never fully hear behind his back, of how he was a ruthless, cold hearted murderer. He didn't want Castiel to hate him and never come back to Dean, he couldn't take that. But most of all, he didn't want to deal with the nightmares that were sure to come. He didn't want to be haunted by the dead, their faces in his mind every night as he fell asleep. He didn't want to see them shoveling dirt into his grave even though he was still alive.

Dean pulled his blanket up over his head.

X.x.x

A strong silence was filtered over the arena. The only thing that could be heard was the pounding of blood filling Dean's head and the massive count down in front of them. Dean knew that he couldn't step off his platform and begin the Games until the timer went off; of he even tried, he would be blown to bits faster than he could blink.

For a spilt second, Dean thought about taking that step. Ending his life so no one could see what kind of monster he would become. If Dean stepped off right now, the Capitol would loose. They wouldn't get their dramatic games, and Dean wouldn't have to deal with the guilt of the innocent blood that would stain his hands.

Dean shook his head furiously, trying to clear it. No, he wouldn't step off that platform until the timer went down. He had to live, to come back to Sam. His Sammy. He wouldn't break his promise, not yet. Dean always kept his promises, and he wasn't about to break this one. He had to stay alive; for Sam, for Cas, for Charlie, and even for himself. He had to prove himself; so much was riding on these games.

Dean looked around the arena, watching the other tributes. Some of the tributes, mostly the careers, seemed excited. They were bracing themselves to run, and the murderous grin on their faces couldn't hide the fear that was in their eyes. Most of the tributes seemed scared; a couple were in complete sobbing fits, pleading for their mothers Dean guessed. Dean felt himself roll his eyes at them; he wanted a fair fight, not some wuss who was probably going to kill themselves by the end of the night anyways.

10.

9.

8.

7.

6.

Dean braced him into a runners position, slowing down his breath and blocking out all other noise that could possibly distract him. He closed his eyes slowly, blocking out other tributes and whatever may lie in front of him. These last few seconds was his time, and he was going to make the most of it.

5.

4.

3.

2.

1.

One last inhale and Dean opened his eyes. Blood rushed to his head as adrenaline filled his blood and pushed him forward, even though he wasn't fully aware of what was happening yet; the bell had rung.

Let the games begin.

Hey everyone!

I know I know, I hate happiness and that's why I left you on a cliff hanger. Mwahahahaha! I'm evil but you love it :)

Anyways, sorry the chapter is kinda short, but the next few ones will be longer because I will be going into more detail about the actual games and what goes on and such there. Also, you get to see much more Destiel in future chapters, because this is, after all, a destiel story of some sort.

I wanna say a huge thank you to Snovolovac and nightmarehunter676 for reviewing the last chapter, that was super cool of you! As always, if you like my what I'm doing and you want to see more, please be sure to hit the follow button and leave a review! :D

And finally, I wanna say two things: 1) if you guys like what I'm writing and stuff like that, please check out some of my other work. I currently have a one shot thingy where I'm taking requests and any ideas I have and putting them into one place, so please go check that out if you want!

And 2) thank you for supporting me by reading this and liking it and reviewing, it really means a lot to me and I will keep doing my best!

Much love and stuff,

-ImmaSlytherout