A/N- Hey guys :) the penultimate chapter! Please leave a review after the chapter. Thank you in advance :)

Disclaimer- Don't own nothing.

Dean walked gloomily back into the house. He hated being in there when Sam was at school, it reminded him too much of his games, and it was getting worse now that the victory tour was a few short weeks away. Sam's mere presence made him forget, almost. But he couldn't sit on the beach any longer, the tide was starting to come in, meaning that he had to return to the damn house.

The moment Dean opened the door, his father was in front of him, startling Dean.

"Did you have a nice walk?" John asked him.

"Um, I guess," Dean replied, confused, and rubbed some of the sand out of his hair. His father never asked him how he spent his day. Not unless something was wrong. "The tide came in."

"Snow's here," John mumbled as he took his old leather hunting jacket, now Dean's, and placed it on the coat hanger.

"What? Why?" Dean mumbled back. Bobby didn't say that the President visited the victors five months later. He had already said his congratulations after the games. John shrugged in response, but Dean could tell he had slight panic in his eyes- something he rarely saw.

"He's in the study," John informed him, and Dean noticed the Peacekeepers guarding the door. Dean nodded his head, and walked over to the study door. He raised his hand to knock, but realised that it was his house that Snow had intruded and quickly dropped it, opening the door as indiscreetly as possible.

"Ah, Mr Winchester," Snow greeted him, seeing Dean walk into the room.

Dean glared at Snow for a second, who was sat behind the desk as if he owned it, before recovering his fake, arrogant composure that he had perfected over the years. "President Snow," Dean nodded at him.

"Please, take a seat," Snow said, indicating to the seat in front of the desk.

Dean heard the door shut close behind him, as he walked over to the seat, noticing that there was an overwhelming scent of roses as he came closer to Snow. "It's such an unexpected pleasure to see you again," Dean said, smiling.

Snow chuckled slightly. "Dean, please drop the façade. It is better if both of us are honest. That way, there are no surprises," Snow said to him. Dean shrugged and wiped the fake smile off his face, and sat expectantly. "I would like to congratulate you on winning the games," Snow told Dean "Quite an inspired technique, using a net to capture your opponents."

"You didn't come all this way to congratulate me," Dean told him bluntly.

"No. No I did not," Snow agreed. "I have more serious issues to discuss with you. Dean, as you already know, you are popular in the Capitol. You are considered, hansom, athletic. You are the most popular victor in the history of the hunger games. You are desirable," Snow informed Dean.

"I don't care what the people of the Capitol think of me," Dean said with a shrug. Snow had told him to be honest.

"But I do. And you will do well to keep this image," Snow told him, looking him up and down. Dean had lost weight, and it seemed permanent bags had appeared under his eyes from chronic lack of sleep. Dean shuffled in his seat uncomfortably, he didn't like the way Snow was looking at him. "Now, I came here to offer you a business deal."

"A business deal?" Dean replied, confused.

"Yes. You see, Dean, you are very beneficial to me, and I hope this deal will suit us both nicely. The people of the Capitol, influential, affluent citizens in particular, would like to get to know you more."

"I'm doing the victory tour in a couple of weeks," Dean replied, completely confused. They would get to know him more on the damn tour that made every victor see the families of those they killed in cold blood.

"These people would like to get to know you more one to one."

"So you want me to talk to them?"

"No. A more intimate relationship is what I had in mind," Snow told him. "Of course you would be paid for efforts. And you wouldn't be able to start until you are sixteen, no longer a child."

Dean stared at him blankly, trying to understand what the president meant. That's when the cogs fell into place. "You want me to prostitute myself?!" Dean shouted, standing up, outraged that the president would think he would do this for money. "There is no way in hell I am doing that!" Dean told Snow.

"I thought that you might say that, without listening to the whole deal," Snow replied. Dean glared at him, fuming, breathing heavily with anger. "Take your seat, and I will continue. I'm sure you will want to hear everything on the table before you make your final decision," Snow said, with a sadistic smile. Dean, unwillingly, obliged and resumed his seat.

"Have you heard of the victor, Haymitch Abernathy?" Snow asked Dean.

"Victor from Twelve. The alcoholic," Dean growled. Not that he could really talk, but he believed himself to more functional than Haymitch.

"That's correct. I suppose you were too young to see his games live, and we don't show him winning that often. Fortunately, I have a clip here." Snow told Dean, before a holographic screen came up in the middle of the desk and a young boy and girl were in the centre.

They were both fighting, the boy slashing the girl's eye out, but then is disarmed and hit in the stomach by the axe. Both of them were sustaining wounds that they couldn't survive if left for long. However, the boy ran through the hedges onto the edge of the cliff, all the time holding his intestines, and the girl followed him. She threw her axe at his head, which he dodged, and the axe went flying over the cliff edge. The girl continued to stand there, thinking she could outlast his injuries, but the axe returns, embedding itself in her head and killing her. The voice announced the boy, Haymitch, the victor.

Snow turned off the screen, a looked at Dean. "Haymitch made a fool out of the Capitol. He didn't play the games, he defied the Capitol, and in consequence he defied me. I don't like people defying me, Dean," Snow told him. "And when it rarely happens, there are serious consequences," Snow said, pausing for a moment to let the information sink in. "Unfortunately for Haymitch, after this act, his mother, younger brother, and girlfriend all died two weeks later in a terrible accident. A fire, I believe, wiping out the house they were in. Not uncommon with all that coal dust lying about," Snow told him, staring deep into his eyes, confirming that there was a personal meaning to Dean.

Dad. Sammy. They were in danger. They would be dead, and it would be his fault.

"So, Dean, do we have a deal?" Snow asked, knowing that Dean had understood his message. Dean nodded his head slightly, not trusting his voice. He felt dirty, agreeing to this, but his family's needs came before his own. It was the only way to keep his family safe. "Good," Snow said "There is one other thing I would like to discuss. I suspect you have heard the rumours of the rebellion starting to form. I'm sure I can trust you to stand with your country and not get involved with such acts. After all you have others to think about," Snow said with an evil smile.

"Of course," Dean said through gritted teeth.

"Now this you would not have realised, you would never get information from the other districts, but you have seemed to spark the interest in some of the citizens in them. They believe that you have characteristics need to help them overpower the Capitol. As you know, 4 has been particularly unruly recently, but so have 5 and 8. We do not want our peaceful system destroyed by foolish thoughts do we now?" Snow asked him.

Dean shook his head. Snow smiled triumphantly and began to stand, but Dean stopped him. "Wait, I have a condition to all of this," Dean told him, remembering one more thing that Dean had heard rumoured and he couldn't leave that rumour to chance. Snow sat down, an almost amused look on his face, and looked at him expectantly. "Sam never gets chosen for the games. His name never comes out of that reaping ball. The odds will be in his favour."

Snow allowed a small smile to play on his lips. "Well, you have thought of everything," Snow replied. "Of course, I'm sure your brother's odds will be good. But just remember, Dean, if you go against me, his luck might just change, and maybe not even his fighting skills will save him against the arena," Snow smiled again, before standing up and heading over to the door. "It's a shame I didn't get to meet your brother. Perhaps some other time, should I ever need to return," Snow told Dean, before leaving the study.

"Dad said Snow came to visit you today," Sam said, sitting himself down next to Dean on the sand, hidden from sight. It was Dean's hiding place, and Sam had known where Dean would go if something was wrong. He knew his brother too well. "What happened?"

"He just came to congratulate me," Dean lied, staring at the waves that were hitting the rocks from around the corner.

"I know you're lying to me, Dean," Sam said sighing. "I'm not as stupid as you think I am."

Dean turned to Sam, who was staring at him with a knowing look. Dean had always thought Sam was too smart for his own good. He always had the maturity and intelligence of someone twice his age. "I've never thought you were stupid, Sammy," Dean told him.

"Then why won't you tell me?"

"Trust me, you don't want to know," Dean told him.

"Then why am I asking?" Sam replied. "You always do this, bottle things up. But you can't keep doing that, Dean, it will destroy you. The games, mom's death, and now Snow." Sam told him. Dean turned his gaze out to sea once again, as though he was trying to ignore Sam. "Fine," Sam huffed, "Have it your way," he told Dean, starting to get to his feet.

"Snow wanted to make me a business deal," Dean muttered, loud enough for Sam to catch it.

"A deal?" Sam replied, not sure he had heard Dean correctly. Dean nodded his head, leaving Sam even more confused. Who would want to go into business with a fourteen-year-old? "What kind of deal?" Sam asked, sitting back down.

"He wants me to spend time with some people of the Capitol. People with money, who have influence."

"What? Talking? Parties? That doesn't seem too bad. I mean I know you said they were annoying, but surely you could-" Sam said, but Dean shook his head, cutting Sam off.

"He wants me to have a more intimate relationship," Dean said. He knew Sam had understood instantly.

"He wants you to prostitute yourself?!" Sam replied. "You can't. He can't make you!" Sam said

"He can, Sammy. He's playing me like a fiddle."

"What is he holding over you?" Sam asked quietly.

"What makes you think that?" Dean replied, getting defensive.

"I know you. There would be no way in hell that you would do this willingly without a real reason. I mean you would rather die than do this. The only way you would do something like this is if he threatened me or Dad," Sam said, before realizing that was what exactly what happened. "What did he say he would do to us?" Sam mumbled, staring at Dean.

"He said that he would kill you Sammy. You and Dad. Not in those exact words, but that's what he meant."

The pair sat in silence for a moment, taking in the situation. After what felt like an eternity, Sam finally spoke.

"Dad and me, we can look after ourselves. You don't need to do this," Sam told Dean.

Dean scoffed. "You know that's a lie." Dean told him mater of factly, and Sam hung his head. "This is the only thing I can do to keep you safe."

"But it's not your job to keep us safe," Sam argued.

"I've looked after you since you were six months old. It'll always be my job to look after you. It's the only thing I know how to do. Look after my pain in the ass baby brother." Dean added with a small smile. He saw Sam open his mouth to argue back, but Dean held up his hand. "I'm done discussing this, Sam. Can we end this sappy chat and get on with it now?"

Sam saw the exhaustion in his brother's face. "Sure," Sam agreed, although in his head he made a mental note to find a way to get Dean out of this somehow.

"Good. Now, just relax and don't touch my booze," Dean warned, lying back in the sand, grabbing his second bottle of the day.