For Castiel, stepping onto the train was like falling into another dimension. The smell – or lack thereof – was so fresh that it almost knocked him off of his scruffy feet. His head seemed to balloon with air, floating above his shoulders, moments from tearing loose from its string and floating into the atmosphere.

"You okay, kid?" the voice of one of the district's victors appeared behind him, guiding him farther into the train. He was elderly, but he had the playful grin of someone much younger. Even through the fog of fresh air, that grin seemed out of place.

"Yeah," Castiel responded, his throat unaccustomed to talking in such an empty atmosphere.

"It's okay if you aren't," the man continued, "You'd be a bit strange if you were."

Castiel forced a thin smile, noticing that the man had meant to be humorous as his hand landed hard on his back with what was meant to be a lighthearted pat. What with the mixture of new air and the fear that was still ravaging every inch of his body, he knew he couldn't spare a laugh. Instead, he pulled his long coat closer to his body, the city's smell still embedded in its tan cloth.

"My name's Zachariah, son," the man said as he pushed past him, "and if you can fake a smile this close to your Reaping, you've got potential. See you at the Capitol."

Now alone, Castiel stood in the main car. Beautiful decorations coated every inch of every surface, shining brightly in every color imaginable. His eyes darted manically around the room, unable to choose just one thing to focus on. Culture shock, that's what they called it. Plenty of tributes in the past had talked about it during their interviews as a way to suck up to the Capitol's pampered citizens, but he had never truly grasped the concept until now.

The room was spinning as he grew more and more lightheaded. Every thought and feeling seemed to rush at him all at once, bombarding his uncultured mind. As a tribute, he was dead, and this room, this décor, was the light he was following to the end of the tunnel. Stumbling to find a surface to lean on, the room began to twirl faster and faster around him.

"Castiel?" a hand grabbed a hold of his shoulder and gave it a light shake, succeeding in bringing him to his senses for a short moment.

Castiel looked up and found himself staring into the rather large eyes of Claire Lardeus, the female tribute. Her long straight hair had fallen into her still young, plump face, giving her an even more innocent look than the one she had worn at the Reaping.

"It helps to breathe slowly," she hummed, her voice still a bit musical from youth.

He did as she said, focusing on the rate of his breathing rather than his surroundings. Eventually, he was able to stand on his own as his ability to see straight returned.

"Thanks," he breathed, not really sure if he wanted her to hear. It didn't matter how kind they were to each other now, they would have to watch each other die regardless of the friendship they formed.

"It's not a problem," she said, beginning to turn away.

"How old are you, anyways?" Castiel heard himself ask, beginning to mindlessly read some everyday script. Like always, his manufactured personality and idiosyncratic curiosity got the best of him. He would never be the type to suffer through a job without asking an unnecessary question on a random whim.

"I'll be fourteen in a few weeks." Her words were bittersweet. They both knew she'd be dead by then. "You?"

"Sixteen," Castiel mumbled. He had three years on the girl, and judging by her dress and general cleanliness, a lifetime of experiences.

He shook away the thoughts. How could he be standing here with a young, innocent girl plotting how easily it would be to best her?

"I have a brother that age," she was clearly attempting to continue the conversation, but Castiel couldn't stand it. He couldn't stand maintaining small talk, no when he knew she was going to die.

Knowing he was going to die.

"I'm going to go to sleep," he said gruffly, walking away promptly with his coat billowing in the train car's fresh air, leaving the young girl all alone.

.o0o.

Sam spent most of his journey in the dining car. At first he had attempted to distance himself from everything "Capitol," but the sweet smell of pastries and cured meat quickly chipped away at any of his preconceived plans.

When he first gave in to the food, it was like falling into heaven. Sweet candies and rich meats littered the room, exciting his taste buds in a way he never could have imagined. He knew his malnourished stomach couldn't take the amount food he was ingesting, but the hunger was too much. For years, he had lived off what little he could gather in the forest, barely able to walk straight due to his body's lack of natural energy. Now he had hundreds of meals to choose from all at once, and nobody but himself to stop him.

He was on his sixth plate when it finally hit him. The nausea came and went quickly as he vomited on a nearby potted plant. A part of him wanted to keep eating, but at this point he knew better. He forced himself out of the room, leaving his mess behind.

Maybe if he thought of it as a "screw you" to the Capitol his nausea could help him steady his frantic mind.

.o0o.

As the train arrived at the Capitol, Dean stood at one of the many rectangular windows that lined each car. The Capitol was just how he had imagined it, a large, bustling city full of strange looking people in even stranger looking outfits. He stared out at the landscape, desperately looking for some sort of building or object to tie this strange place to his home, but he could not. He was in a new world now.

"Right this way, dear. This car has the largest windows," he heard Lucifer say as the car doors blew open. Lilith followed in and hurriedly plastered herself to the window next to Dean, looking up at him as she did.

"Hello, Dean Winchester," she said as she gazed up at him with her deep black eyes. Dean couldn't put his finger on it, but there was something about those eyes that wasn't quite right.

"Hey," Dean responded as casually as possible, raising his eyebrows from their nearly permanently stern position. He still wasn't sure if he was going to follow through with his original plan and ally with her as he would have with Ruby. She was far too young and too delicate looking for a career. When he was her age, he had only just learned how to use a short sword, and yet here she was competing against him.

And just like that, an eerie thought crept into Dean's mind. Most of the other tributes probably didn't even know how to use any of the weapons properly, and almost all of him would be younger than he was. This wouldn't be like training where he took down past victors and experienced fighters, this was the real thing. He stood astonished by the realization. How was it that he had spent his entire life training for one event, but he hadn't even fully considered what exactly that event entailed?

"You seem a little frightened for a career," Lilith stated coolly, reminding Dean of her presence. He turned to look at her again, still a bit disturbed by the bizarre light in her eyes. She didn't look like a person, but rather a doll that had been wound up in order to regurgitate its singsong catchphrase.

"No, I'm just anxious around crowds," Dean responded, making sure his tone remained strong and unwavering. He had always expected that he and Ruby would have the train ride to stifle their worries together, but that had been thrown out the window the second Lilith had shouted out her name at the Reaping.

"Then just try not to think about how many people you're being broadcast to!" she murmured, her upbeat tone verging on threatening. She was trying to scare him, and she clearly didn't care how bluntly she approached it.

"We're almost ready to get off the train. Do you two want to follow me or would you like to stay by the window for a few more minutes?" Lucifer interjected, fastening a large red rose onto his strikingly white suit.

Dean looked away from the young girl and clenched his jaw. If he stayed at the window he'd have the chance to gain more Capitol supporters, but if went he'd be able to have a few more minutes away from this strange little girl.

"I'll go now."

"Me too!" Lilith said, smiling happily like she had just received an extremely expensive gift. Dean sighed, his attempt to avoid her a failure. Lucifer led the pair toward the doors as the train slowed to a stop.

"It's about to get very loud, but I don't think it's anything either of you can't handle," he chuckled, grabbing a hold of the door's large handle and pulling up sharply.

A wall of sound hit Dean head on. What looked like every citizen of the Capitol was standing around the station eagerly anticipating their arrival. Shouts and cheers filled the air as the two were led by the Capitol's favorite escort.

"Kill them all!"

"Bloody is better!"

"Continue the Winchester legacy!"

Dean tried to look at every face, keeping his broad smile as he did. This was his chance to campaign for fan favorite, and it wasn't going to be easy. Lilith was standing next to him, waving frantically in every direction. She was a definitively cute child, so she already had the sympathy fans and their money secured.

Trying to siphon off some of her playful energy, Dean wrapped his arm around her neck and messed up her perfect curls with his fist as one would do to a younger brother. While she squirmed at first, she relaxed as his actions sent the crowd into an overjoyed frenzy.

"You're better at this than I thought, Winchester," she hissed up at him.

"I've had training."