Fight For Me

Chapter 2:

Sitting quietly in a large, blue, puffy chair, Dean stared out the window as he watched his home fade into the distance. Sammy… He thought. He leaned back in the chair and looked around the room. Petite pastries were displayed on fancy serving trays, food was up for grabs all along the dining table, and the room was warm and comfortable. None if it mattered. Dean wasn't hungry, and he could be getting a massage and still be uncomfortable and sick to his stomach. He was quickly being taken further and further away from home.

Effie bounced around the train talking about all the luxuries Dean would be receiving before the games. He pinched the bridge of his nose and tried to block her nonsense out, but it was almost impossible to ignore her high voice and that stupid Capitol accent. Effie sat down across from Dean and huffed. "Honestly, Dean, cheer up! You have so many luxuries here! You have so much wonderful food and your clothes-"

"Look, lady," snapped Dean, cutting her off, "I was just taken from my family and I'm going to be thrown into an arena to be murdered. Excuse me if I'm not in bright spirits."

Effie opened her mouth to respond, but simply closed it and looked away. Before she could think of anything to say, the redheaded girl that was chosen to be the female tribute stepped into the room. "He's not wrong." She walked over to Dean and stuck out her hand. "I'm Charlie."

Dean shook her hand, "Dean."

"I saw what you did for your brother," said Charlie in a surprisingly neutral tone. "That was brave. I admire you for it."

"Thanks…" Dean murmured. He suddenly smiled. "I'd say you're cool, but I may have to kill you soon." He couldn't help but to chuckle. To his surprise, Charlie laughed a little as well.

"Oh we'll see about that, I just might kill you first," she winked. Dean raised his hands in surrender and laughed again. Charlie started laughing harder and eventually took a seat. "Whoo! I feel a six pack coming on. I'll need it to survive!" Now the room was filled with Dean and Charlie's hysterical laughter. Dean wasn't sure if it was because what was said was actually funny, or if both he and Charlie were just scared straight into insanity.

"So," Dean began after he finally stopped laughing, "think you have any chances of winning?"

"Oh absolutely none, but I have to try. We get a while to train, so maybe I can at least go out like a boss," replied Charlie.

"Yeah I'm going to try too, but I'll probably get stabbed at the cornucopia."

"Both of you!" shouted Effie out of nowhere. "You need to be more positive! It's true that District 12 hasn't had a winner in a very long time, but there's always a chance you'll get lucky."

Dean chuckled. "Yeah, the luckiest I'll get is getting hanged or something by a regular tribute. Not cut and ripped to pieces by a Career."

"I hate Careers," said Charlie in utter disgust. "A Career killed my sister two years ago. Cut 'designs' in her arms and legs and let her bleed out on camera…"

Dean's smile faded instantly. He thought of Sam, and the idea of watching him cut and tortured made Dean sick. "I'm so sorry." Charlie simply shrugged.

Silence fell over the room, and it lasted for about 30 minutes. Then, the door to the room opened and a blonde man stumbled inside. "Where's the ice?" he asked in a slurred voice.

Effie rolled her eyes, "Over there," she gestured. "Dean, Charlie, this is Haymitch. He's your mentor." Oh, well I'm fucked. Dean thought to himself.

Haymitch stumbled over to the ice and drinks and poured a glass of whiskey. He practically fell down in his chair. "So, what dead meat do I have to work with this year?"

"This is Dean Winchester, and Charlie Bradbury," said Effie calmly, trying to not show her irritation. "They're both lovely young people. And they're older than the last tributes we had. Dean is 20, and Charlie is 19."

Haymitch threw his head back in laughter, "Right because their ages are going to make a difference." He turned to face Dean and Charlie and took a sip of whiskey. "Know this, and know this now, you're screwed. Your district learns no skills at all. So eat, drink, and waste away while you can."

"Alright douchebag, hear me and hear me clearly," said Dean as he got to his feet. He walked over and towered over Haymitch. "I volunteered to save my brother's life. And I'll be damned if I leave him to live alone with my father in that district!" Dean slapped the drink out of Haymitch's hand, causing Effie to jump and Charlie to smile. "So sober up, and do your job as our mentor and teach us how to survive, or you'll be the first throat I slit!"

Haymitch simply say quietly in his chair as Dean stormed off into another room. The doors closed behind Dean and Haymitch turned his attention to Effie, "I like him."

Dean disappeared into the room that was for him and collapsed on the bed. He grabbed the remote to the TV and turned it on. The first thing he saw was a girl that had been beat to death in the 13th annual Hunger Games. He changed the channel. A boy from the 26th annual Hunger Games was being mauled by a mutant creature. He changed the channel. Once blood appeared on the screen he turned off the TV and chucked the remote across the room. All the stations were showing were recaps, which meant he had no mental escape from his fate.

The door to Dean's room suddenly opened. Charlie tapped on the door frame. "Can I come in?" Dean shrugged and Charlie took that as a yes. She walked in the room and the door closed behind her. "I know how you feel…" she trailed off for a moment. She sat on the edge of Dean's bed by his feet and stared at the floor. "My mom is ill. My dad works in the mines. My sister is dead."

"I'm sorry," said Dean maneuvering to sit next to Charlie. He placed his hand on her knee. "Maybe you can win."

Charlie scoffed, "Right, and while I'm at it I'll became Capitol's next top model too!" She turned to look at Dean. "I have no shot. I have no skills. And I was watching the TV earlier, Dean. This year's tributes are tough."

"So what then? You're just going to give up?"

"No. I think we should work together. Maybe with the two of us, we can at least go out with a fight. And maybe you can win and go home to your brother."

Dean had to give it some thought for a moment. Could he really trust Charlie? She seemed genuine, but some tributes played cruel tricks to win these games. After a moment, he realized he had nothing to lose. "On one condition. If I'm out numbered, and you have the chance to run, run. Don't stay back and try to help me. Get out of there, so you can go home to your mother."

Charlie gave Dean a small smile. "Back at you, deal? Make sure your brother is safe."

"Deal." Dean and Charlie shook hands and exchanged genuine smiles. They both hoped for the best, but expected the worst.

Night eventually came, and sleep just wouldn't find its way to Dean. He tossed and turned over and over. Despite the bed's extreme comfort, he was too shaken to drift away. Giving up, he stepped out of bed and made his way to the shower. He undressed, despite his feeling of being watched, and stepped into the shower, sliding the glass door behind him. It was a double sided mirror. Anyone on the outside would see their reflection, and Dean could see out. A holographic panel appeared on the wall with several options to adjust the shower to Dean's liking. Dean selected a water temperature that was comfortable for his skin, and picked a shampoo at random. They were all frilly girly scents anyway.

The water poured down from the ceiling like rain, making Dean feel like he was in the woods again on a stormy day. No matter what the weather, Dean hunted every day. His father taught both him and Sam how to shoot arrows, use knifes in combat and for gutting animals, how to set traps, and how to fight. All of the skills Dean and Sam knew had passed on for generations, and it was all Dean had to cling onto for hope. He had to hope that Sam would use the skills he had to survive. He had to hope that somehow his own skills would keep him alive in the arena. It was those damn Careers; they were nearly impossible to beat. Careers trained in a special academy until they turned 18, then they volunteered. It was technically illegal to train before the games, but hey, lethal kids equaled entertainment, so who cares, right?

Dean turned off the shower and stepped out onto a mat. He grabbed a towel and wrapped it around his waist. He returned to bed, not bothering to get dressed, and let exhaustion take over.

Ouch! Dean thought, be refused to say out loud. He didn't want to sound like a wimp. The moment he and Charlie arrived at the Capitol, they were taken to a building designed just for the Hunger Games. There were living quarters, and everything needed to get the tributes ready for screen time. Dean was being plucked and poked and everything in between by his prep team. They circled him like hawks, each of them handling something different. A normal person would feel slightly shamed being completely nude in front of strangers, but after his experiences in District 12, his body was something less than private to him. OWW! He wanted to shout. The prep team member with flaming red hair and purple lips, Flavius, was plucking his eyebrows until they were the perfect shape. A large, round woman, Octavia, was starting up a bath for Dean.

Before Dean could protest, he was forced into the bath where he was scrubbed until he felt like he had easily lost five layers of skin. Octavia washed his hair while Flavius started scrubbing the dead skin off of his heels. The third prep team member had burst into tears for some reason and was no longer assisting. What the hell is the point of this? Dean wondered. Why were these people making him look better, when they were about to send him to get his head ripped off?

"Oh, darling, you're looking wonderful!" said Octavia as she helped Dean out of the bath and began to dry him off. "Cinna is going to love you! Oh, he won't be able to get enough of this chiseled chin!" she exclaimed, showing Dean's sharp features to Flavius.

Flavius pretended to fan himself with his hand, "It's almost too much to bare Octavia, dear! Cinna is going to be so excited! Though I'm so sad he won't let us do anything with this," he gingerly placed his hand on Dean's chest. Dean fought his natural instincts to shove Flavius away and drop kick him to the ground. Flavius sighed. "But of course, he gets to work with your best features. But-"

"No!" Octavia smacked away Flavius' hand. "Cinna said his torso is off limits!"

Flavius and Octavia began to chat amongst themselves about what was on and off limits for them to work with. Dean couldn't help but feel slightly embarrassed. He knew his body wasn't his own in the Capitol, but having these two people stroking him and discussing his physique made him uncomfortable.

"Okay, our time with you is up…" said Octavia sadly. "For now!" She rapped a robe around Dean and had him sit down. "We'll get to see you again, but for now, you belong to Cinna." Octavia sniffled. "Good luck darling." She kissed Dean on the cheek and left with Flavius.

Dean wiped away the kiss stubbornly and sat in the chair awkwardly, waiting for his stylist to arrive.

A few minutes later, the door opened, and Cinna stepped in the room. "Hello, Dean, how are you?"

"Besides my aching eyebrows, I'd say I'm still doing pretty shitty," said Dean not bothering to look Cinna in the eye.

Cinna sat down in the chair across from Dean. "You're better prepared than the other tributes I've worked on in the past. Most of them didn't even have the guts to admit that they're scared."

"I never said I was scared."

"You didn't have to." Cinna smiled softly. Dean turned his head away and stared out the window. "Look, I'm here to help you. Your prep team, this is all they know. But I know how these games work. You're going to need sponsors to survive. And that's why I'm here. I'm going to help you make an impression. You and Charlie."

Dean finally met Cinna's eyes. He shook his head. "We're two losers from District 12. No one is going to sponsor us."

"They will if you make the right impression. Don't let yourself come across as losers from District 12. Let yourselves come across as warriors. Just give me a chance. Opening night, you'll see."

"Fine," snapped Dean.

Cinna smiled again. "Now, I know you probably don't like this, but I need to see what I'm working with." Dean rolled his eyes and dropped his robe to the floor as he stood up.

"Believe me, I'm immune to this after Flavius groped me."

"Yeah he'll do that." Cinna stood to his feet to meet Dean's gaze. "The good news is, you already look like a warrior. Now you just have to act like it. That's going to be your reputation."

"So what? I'm just going to be that brainless 'I pick things up and put them down' tribute?"

"You can look like a warrior and have a brain. Trust me, we'll have everything figured out by the time it's time for your interview with Caesar." Dean nodded his head and took a deep breath. Cinna picked up Dean's robe and handed it to him. "Try to be a little modest." Cinna gave Dean a wink, earning a small smile from the emerald eyed tribute. "Alright, let's get to work."

Cinna went quick to work adding the finishing touches on Dean. Dean struggled to stay still when Cinna started applying eyeliner. He couldn't believe he was wearing makeup. He felt insulted, but Cinna had promised to help him. He had to have a little faith. Cinna finished applying light touches of gold eye liner to the top of Dean's eyelid. Next he pulled out a bottle of lotion and started rubbing it over Dean's chest. Dean huffed.

"Don't question it. We need the cameras to catch every good angle." Cinna rubbed on lotion until Dean's skin practically glowed. He added some last minute touch ups to make sure Dean's complexion was perfect. "There."

"Do I look like a girl now?"

Cinna chuckled. "Go look in the mirror." Dean rolled his eyes and walked over to the mirror across the room. He could feel his jaw drop. There was no way the magnificent creature in the mirror was him. His eyes may have had makeup, but they stood out. It didn't look like he was wearing makeup; it looked like his eyes were shining like real emeralds. His complexion was perfect. His torso glowed. Could that really be himself staring back? He gently brought his hand up the mirror and touched his reflection.

"Pretty impressive," said Cinna. He leaned against the doorframe. "Wait until you see the clothes I've designed for you and Charlie." Dean turned to Cinna and gave a small smile. He brought his gaze back to his reflection one last time. He looked amazing, and it began to disgust him. He hadn't even been presented to the public yet, and he already felt like a puppet.

Dean looked around as all the tributes were getting last minute adjustments done to their costumes. For lack of a better term, that's what tributes wore for opening night, costumes. Each district wore something based on what their district specialized in. Not too far away, he could see the District 7 tributes being fitted for costumes that make their skin look like the bark of a tree. District 7 specialized in lumber, but that outfit was cruel to make anyone wear on national television.

Looking down at his own costume, Dean wasn't entirely certain what Cinna's gimmick was supposed to be. He and Charlie had matching outfits, much the other district's tributes, but they didn't look totally ridiculous. He and Charlie were both wearing slick, black, full body suits. Well, almost full body. Charlie's suit came down in a swoop neck style that showed off some cleavage, but not as much as expected. Dean's suit clung to his arms and shoulders, but his whole chest was bare.

Charlie looked much different than Dean had expected. He figured Cinna would make her look like a prostitute, which is what the other female tributes looked like. Charlie, however, didn't look like that at all. Her hair was styled in perfect waves that fell down her back, and heir bangs had been braided and tied back. Her eyes popped and her skin was flawless. But despite it all, she still looked like a warrior.

"Are you ready for this?" asked Charlie, the nervousness showing in her voice. She tugged at the fabric that clung tightly to her skin. Dean had to agree. The clothes were extremely tight. His muscles bulged underneath the fabric that seemed to cling to his biceps a little too well.

"I'm as ready as anyone else here," replied Dean trying to mask his own nerves.

Charlie gestured over to some tributes across the way. "Not anyone. Check out this year's Careers."

District 1's tributes were looking extremely confident. They were dressed in absolutely ridiculous costumes. They were wearing pink feathers for Christ sake. The girl was blonde with dangerous hazel eyes. The boy was tall and lean. He wasn't built like some of the other tributes. He was thin, but Dean assumed he was pure muscle. He had sandy brown hair and green eyes that glowed like poison.

District 2's tributes were equally as intimidating. The girl had short raven hair and was dressed up like a Greek Goddess, complete with a helmet that had wings on the sides. She held her head up like she was better than everyone around her. Dean rolled his eyes. He looked over the male tribute. The male tribute had to be at least 20 years old. He was thin, but he was cut. His outfit was designed to show off his very defined back muscles. He had short black hair and blue eyes that were the color of crystal. Dean was a decent distance away, but he could see the boys eyes sparkle. He suddenly forgot how to breathe, and stood in place not moving.

"Dean. DEAN!" shouted Charlie.

"What, what, what?" Dean rambled snapping out of his trance.

"I know she's pretty, but stay focused. You might have to kill her you know," Charlie rolled her eyes and glared slightly at the female tribute from District 2.

"Yeah…she…" Dean felt his mouth go dry. Why couldn't he take his eyes off of the male tribute? Dean's breath caught when the male tribute looked up and their eyes met. Dean expected to be scoffed at, but the District 2 tribute smiled at him before turning his head away. Did a Career just…smile…at him..?

"Okay, let's get this going," said Cinna. Dean snapped out of it and turned his attention to his stylist. He stole one last glance at the male tribute before giving Cinna his complete attention. "You're going to feel some heat behind you, okay?" Both Dean and Charlie nodded their heads. "Okay. Now, I want you two to stare ahead of the crowd. Don't look at anyone, don't smile, unless it's a cocky smile. Ready?"

"Yes," said Dean and Charlie.

"Good." Cinna helped Dean and Charlie get situated in their chariot. The horses were trained, and didn't need direction, which was a relief. Dean and Charlie stared ahead and waited for their turn to go out.

One by one, chariots disappeared as they headed out to be showered with admiration from the crowd. Dean could barely hear the announcers praising the first two districts. After that, the praise turned into simple recognition. Finally, Dean and Charlie felt the chariot begin to move. Before Dean's eyes could even adjust to the bright lights, the crowd was going wild. He could feel a strong sensation of heat behind him. He looked up at the big screens and realized why the crowd was cheering so loudly. Fire raged furiously in the chariot behind him and Charlie. The flames danced, and somehow made the shape of a throne. Suddenly what Cinna said had made sense. They were supposed to stare ahead and act like they were better because they were. They were acting like they had already won the games.

The chariots formed in a U shape in front of the balcony where the President of Panem, President Snow, was soon to show. President Snow stepped out and waved his hands to calm down the audience. "Welcome, tributes. We welcome you to the 50th annual hunger games." The crowd erupted into applause again. "Happy Hunger Games. And may the odds be ever in your favor."

The chariots brought everyone back inside. Soon enough most tributes were stripping out of most of their costumes. Dean and Charlie couldn't take off their costumes yet, so they headed back the elevator with Haymitch. Haymitch pressed the button to shoot them up to the 12th floor. "Not bad, you two. Not bad at all." The elevator opened up to the living quarters for District 12 tributes. "Now you need to keep up your reputation. You came across as tough tributes that feel they've already won. Act like that, and I'll be able to get your some decent sponsors. It's the only way you'll survive these games."

Dean and Charlie returned to their rooms. Effie instructed them to take one hour to shower and change, and then be present for dinner. Dean peeled off his black skin suit and stepped into the shower. He took almost the whole hour to scrub off the lotion and makeup. He stepped out of the shower and picked out a simple blue shirt and grey jeans to wear. After dressing, he joined Haymitch, Effie, and Charlie at the dinner table.

"You two were marvelous!" exclaimed Effie in glee. "So beautiful! Stunning! You looked like champions."

"That was kinda the point," said Dean before shoveling in a mouthful of mashed potatoes.

"Well," started Effie trying to excuse Dean's poor manners, "the point was made well."

Haymitch took a sip of whiskey and sighed. "Almost too well. The Careers have their eyes on you. District 1 especially, Jo and Adam. And the female tribute, Lisa, from District 2."

"What about the male tribute?" asked Dean. He suddenly wondered why he was bothering to ask.

"That's Castiel," said Haymitch with a slight laugh. "It's strange, he's not like most Careers. He carries himself as quite friendly."

"Maybe it's a new tactic," Charlie suggested. She ate a forkful of chicken and rice. "This is so good!" She ate a little more before continuing. "I heard that sometimes Careers will play the 'I was forced to do this and I'm actually nice' card so they're not viewed as dangerous."

Haymitch shrugged. "That could be it, but it doesn't matter. Whatever you do, stay away from the Careers. They're dangerous and not to be trusted."

"Damn straight they're not to be trusted. My sister formed an alliance with them when she was reaped. They murdered her the second day. They tied her up while she was asleep and killed her slowly for entertainment," said Charlie bitterly.

"And they will do things like that to you. They've been trained to entertain the audience and win at any cost," Haymitch looked over at Charlie. "I'm sorry for your loss."

"Thanks…"

"So what's the best way to go about this?" asked Dean.

"Allies are good way to survive, but it depends on what you're comfortable with morally. Because if it comes down to it-" Haymitch began.

"We'll have to kill them," Charlie finished.

Haymitch nodded. "Yes, and that isn't always easy. So if you decide to ally with someone, be prepared. But never ally with a Career, no matter what they offer up."

"Stay away from the Careers no matter what. We got it," snapped Dean.

Haymitch leaned forward in his seat. "Don't get smart with me, Winchester. I'm trying to keep you alive. You can do whatever the hell you want, but if you want to go home and see your family again, you'll shut your trap and listen to what I have to say." Dean averted his eyes from Haymitch. "Now. Let's talk skills. What can you two do?"

"I can use a knife," said Charlie. "I taught myself how to throw it pretty well when I was bored. And I know herbs and plants. My mom is a nurse."

"Not bad," said Haymitch as he flagged down an Avox to get some more alcohol. "Dean?"

Dean adjusted in his seat, "I um…I can shoot arrows. I can use a knife. I can set traps. I can fight…" he trailed off.

"Nothing you say here will get you in any more trouble. As far as the Capitol is concerned, you're already dead. You'll need to use all of those skills. Don't be afraid. Most of that will keep you alive and provide entertainment. Now, both of you, don't show off any known skills during training. Learn new skills instead. That way your competition won't know what to expect, and you can gain more chances at survival."

Haymitch continued to give advice, but Dean's thoughts were elsewhere. He couldn't help but to think about the male tribute from District 2. Castiel. He didn't know why, but something drew him to that tribute. It was dangerous. He tried to clear his thoughts, but he simply couldn't focus. He sighed. Maybe tomorrow would be better. Tomorrow he would start his first day of training.

Heyy! Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Please leave a review telling me your thoughts! And don't forget to check out my other work if you liked this. Thanks again, bye bye~