Sam didn't know what to do. He still hadn't gained total control over his lungs, and his body was mostly frozen from cold and fear. Helplessly, he dug his nails into the dusty floor and braced for the impending blow that Maria would most definitely deliver.

"Get up," Maria said, her icy blue eyes digging into Sam's.

But Sam couldn't. He hadn't even managed to eat the rodents he had captured, and he wasn't even sure what their poison had done to him. His limbs ached with malnourishment and fatigue.

Slower than he would have expected, his eyes fell to one of the shapes hanging off of Maria's belt. Tied tightly on the cloth structure rested an unbelievably large bat-like creature. From where Sam rested, it appeared to have a wingspan of around one or two feet.

He couldn't stop his mouth from watering.

"I said, get up," Maria repeated, swaying her body so that the bat fell out of sight. Once more, Sam attempted to lift himself from the ground, and once more, his arms couldn't help him.

"I can't," Sam mumbled hesitantly. It was incredibly surprising that she hadn't killed him yet, but he knew his inability to move would only make matters worse.

Oddly enough, Maria turned away from Sam and back toward her brother, an anxious look consuming her once tough face.

"Rod, can you take the canteens and go fill them up? I need to talk to Twelve alone," Maria tore two long bottles from her belt and thrust them at Rod, who grabbed them from the air clumsily.

"Yeah, sure," there was a lot of pain in Rod's voice. He knew what was coming, and so did Sam. She was sending him away so he wouldn't have to watch as –

As Maria fixed his mistake.

Rod shuffled off down the tunnel, leaving the flashlight with Maria. Sam braced himself even more, anticipating a much more ruthless attack now that Rod had gone. Maria was a career, after all.

"Goodness, Twelve, no need to blow a gasket. I'm not going to kill you yet," Maria growled, her voice a mix of various condescending tones. Slowly, she lowered herself onto the ground next to Sam and placed her head in her hands mockingly. "So what seems to be the problem?"

Sam was shocked. This girl should be slitting his throat, spilling his fast-beating blood onto the cold, stone floor. She had him caught, she had won. Now it was time for her to collect her prize. Was she just trying to calm him down so he didn't see it coming?

"Well, you aren't killing me, for starters," Sam grumbled, making sure to sound at least slightly happy about it, "I really don't appreciate you delaying it."

Maria laughed – no, she threw her head back and cackled.

"Well, Sammy, I couldn't kill you even if I wanted to, and believe me I do. You see, if I killed you now it would just break Rod's little heart, and I just can't do that to him. Not here," Maria paused, her temporarily comedic spirit falling away. "No, I have to make sure he gets out of these games alive and at least a little bit sane, and you're going to help me."

He could feel the stunned look on his face, so he was sure Maria could see it.

"No one really calls me 'Sammy,'" Sam just mumbled, "And I can't even…"

Maria held up he hand gingerly, stopping him.

"They're called felmus, the rodents. They used them a few decades ago in the games. They're very rare and trigger incredibly powerful but completely temporary reactions in the brain. You'll be fine in a bit. Then we're going to try and get out of these caves."

The shock only increased. He had never imagined that such a knowledgeable career would be his ally. He still had trouble imagining it as she cut him off a bit of the bat he had been eyeing earlier.

"How do you know that there's an outside?" Sam asked the only question that wouldn't make him seem like an idiot in comparison. The fact that he was wolfing down rather large bites of semi cooked meat didn't help.

"I don't, but I need to. Careers in Four aren't trained for caves, and to be completely honest they make me feel uncomfortable. We figured that if we follow one path for a while, it's bound to take us somewhere."

Sam nodded. At this point, he had two options. One, he could help them find the outside. He'd have protection from someone who knew what she was doing, but only temporarily. Two, he could stay here and die.

For some reason, the prior didn't seem like the obvious choice it should have been.

.o0o.

For a few days, the Gamemakers allowed the tributes to be at peace. Sam, Maria, and Rod had been walking for what seemed like weeks, and their water was beginning to run low. Soon, they'd run out and be stranded in the depths of the tunnel system, but none of them said anything about their situation. No one wanted to be the one to say it aloud, that would make it real.

Dean, Castiel, and Claire, on the other hand, seemed to be doing better than anyone else in the game. Less than half of the tributes were still alive, so Castiel considered his position a rather good one. Whatever was wrong with Dean didn't seem like it was going to wear off any time soon. Offering to take longer shifts guarding the Cornucopia so that Castiel could be with Claire, the career was kind and courteous. He talked in short sentences, as if speaking was painful, but Castiel knew it wasn't meant to be mean. Whatever had happened to Dean so far in the game, it had broken him.

Castiel knew that he had broken, too.

Claire was the only one whose psychological standing seemed untouched by the games, and that was only because she had rarely been conscious for any of it. Occasionally, she'd come to and mutter about home or her family or herself. She never seemed aware of her situation, or of her pain. When she was unconscious, however, her hands frequently found their way to her wound, twisting and contorting on top of it in obvious pain.

Nearly three days went by without a death, and Dean was starting to get worried. The Capitol would lose interest if nothing was happening, and from where he was standing, it seemed as if the games had stopped. Either the rest of the tributes were constantly battling some sort of monster, or the Capitol was increasing suspense. He hoped it wasn't the latter.

A few hours into that third day, Dean heard it. It wasn't a natural noise, he could tell that it came from a human. Looking around, he attempted to find the source. No one in the tunnels was anywhere near close enough to the structure to be heard from where he was. They had to be closer.

Dean spun on his heel, grabbing at the short sword he kept nestled in his arms. Castiel was asleep on the ground, his dark black hair thick and matted on his forehead. There was no one back there but him. No one but him and Claire.

Claire.

Dean ran toward the girl as fast as he feet could carry him. The noise emanating from her small body was worse than anything he had ever heard, like she was wheezing but instead of a soft squeak her lungs had been filled with crushed metal. Her body had gone limp, limper than it had been. Only her head and neck were moving, as they convulsed back and forth with each overly audible breath.

The career didn't know what to do. He had learned so much about combat and personal survival skills, but no one had ever taught him how to handle a situation like this. This girl was dying, right here and now, and years of training wouldn't do anything for him.

He was trained to create a situation like this, not stop it.

Fear burst through his body as he felt a cold hand fall onto his shoulder. Castiel was awake, but his face was frozen in a way that didn't seem cognizant. The younger boy just stared at the girl, a single tear making its way from his round blue eyes.

"Put her out of her misery," he whispered, devoid of emotion. Dean turned toward him, his mouth opening in shock.

"What?" Dean asked, not knowing what else to say. This was the boy who had carried her body through miles of tunnel, and here he was asking to have her killed.

"That isn't – she isn't breathing. Her lungs are full of something, blood probably. She's either going to die in a few hours or a few seconds, which would you rather it be?" Castiel's voice had a sort of harshness to it that Dean had yet to hear. Silently, Dean wondered how Castiel knew about this, how he could remain so calm as he watched someone die. He decided not to ask.

He just did as he was told.

The canon fire must have been the loudest one yet.