At first, Dean's vision was blinded beneath searing white light painful enough so that he had to use his arm to blot out the glare. He heard tributes' heavy breathing and water lap lazily somewhere nearby, birds chirping in glee and some distant growls of a mutt. When his head finally stopped spinning from the overpowering sun, he dared lower his arm enough to take in beautiful surroundings. That's when the announcer's voice, Dick Roman, crackled to life from an invisible but all-encompassing source.

"Ladies and gentlemen, let the 63rd Annual Hunger Games begin! And may the odds be ever in your favor!"

Sixty seconds. That's how long he had to adjust, take in his surroundings, and somehow pull together a quite literally last minute plan of action. The first thing Dean noticed about the arena they'd been thrown into was the fat, slow moving river cutting everything in half: the circle of platforms spread equidistant apart, the contrast of lands stretched wide on either side, and even the Cornucopia itself, golden halves glistening under hot sun. It seemed the only way to cross to the other land was by either wading through murky and very questionable river water or trying your luck on the flimsy wooden bridge connecting the two halves. So Dean was right about the environment being hot, at least for now. He couldn't pick out individual faces surrounding him yet, but the feeling of fear was prominent everywhere. The Countdown was just beginning, like a clock ticking backwards on some very unwitting lives.

59… 58… 57…

The tributes were in perpetual motion. Some were terrified, their eyes darting everywhere to take in those of their various competition looking scared themselves. Others were focused on the large batch of supplies that was the centerpiece of where they all stood, their bodies facing forward and twitching in anticipation. The rest seemed somewhere in between, almost as if trying to figure out some sort of trick to the game that might keep them alive. More strategizing. It was the same Countdown routine as every year, just new faces.

30… 29… 28…

Opposite from where Dean and the rest of his half-circle stood, the arena sloped into gentle rolling hills dotted by exotic flowers and some weeping willows which simply sang of paradise. In the far distance, Dean could make out colossal towers and spires of white, an oasis city walled in. Just off to its side was a sparkling lake clear as crystal. But he could spot a trap miles away thanks to his extensive training, and he knew instantly the land of sweet promises also held countless horrific traps and mutts just waiting to make a kill. Where he stood was the very opposite.

23… 22...

Cracks of fiery concrete decorated a tightly packed forest of charred and gnarled dead trees, swaths of molten lava running in rivulets through crumbling structures as far as the eye could see. Bubbles of hot, thick fire rose one by one from pockets of lava lakes. Dean figured his side - the city ruins overgrown with death and fire - was supposed to resemble Hell, and the other - a flourishing city of light and life - was supposed to be Heaven. Figures that the Gamemakers would put him in Hell first. He'd need to convince the other Careers when the time came to run there, where the danger was evident first, so it'd be easier to hunt down the harder tributes who'd decide to brave it. It would be difficult considering the stubborn nature of the group he had, but he knew his option was smartest.

12… 11… 10…

First though, he had to focus on the Cornucopia again. And - damn it - the countdown was nearly into single digits and there was still so much more he had to consider. The golden halves were filled to the brim with supplies ranging from swords of unimaginable length, backpacks of the largest size, and even shelter that could last throughout the entire game. Some of the best supplies were on Heaven's side which required him to take the connecting bridge, but he was sure he'd make it. This was it. The anticipated Bloodbath was about to begin. Every competitor was on high-alert, constantly changing position. Hearts were pounding and breath was quickening even among those determined to maintain a strong facade for the cameras.

9… 8… 7…

"I REFUSE TO MURDER FOR THE CAPITOL."

All in one fluid motion, every single head had swung to meet those of Lenore Benson, standing rigid on her platform with brown eyes on fire. She was only a few spots away from Dean on the Hell side, which made it all the more horrific when her guts splattered to coat his face only a second after. Drenched, all he could do was stare in shock at the crater driven deep into scorched earth just in front of her platform where she'd stepped off not a second ago. Not a second ago, Lenore Benson was blown to bits of her own free will. Dean didn't even realize he was shaking until Dick's voice counted 'five' and he snapped himself out of it. He had five seconds. He had five seconds and he wouldn't let anything distract him from the path to his waiting machete, put there just for him.

4…

Everyone else seemed to share the same revelation, because one by one their attentions returned with great effort back to the enormous batch of waiting supplies.

3…

Toes were just hanging off the edge of platforms.

2…

Breaths were held. Eyes wide open.

1…

The gong sounded and twenty-three children rushed forward all at once.

In that moment, all thoughts of Lenore, Lucifer's advice, and even Dad and Sam watching from home were all banished from Dean's mind as it narrowed down into tunnel vision trained on that machete. His machete. It rested gleaming amongst several other blades on Heaven's half and he could tell right away there was no duplicate instrument. Clearly the Gamemakers had wanted him to fight for it, so he would. Dean was never the fastest runner being more strength inclined, but with adrenaline pulsing all the way from his feet to his head, he pumped his arms and legs sprinting straight for the connecting bridge with speed he didn't know he had.

A few others beat him to it, and without bothering to recognize faces, Dean barreled past to land on the already swaying planks of wood over water. He paused in spite of himself at the sight of the clumsily knotted ropes holding it all together, wondering if in the end it would just be easier to wade across rather than suffer a fall beforehand. No. No time for doubt. Almost on cue, a cannon of muscle and cloth suddenly crashed into him, taking Dean's breath away as he felt his body crunch into hard-packed dirt. He was pinned by an unseen figure with rough, calloused hands wrapped around his throat and squeezing with the strength of a python.

Letting out a roar of defiance, Dean promptly flipped himself over to meet a furious Uriel Wisdom. Uriel Wisdom, District 9. Part of the group trying to overthrow the Career pack. Without hesitation, he followed through with a hard and fast punch to the face, further throwing off his attacker. Dean would've killed the boy then, but he was dangerously unarmed at the moment. Trying not to gasp for breath, he turned and ran across the bridge without hesitation that time and reached the horn of Heaven where most of his allies were already fighting. He reeled to a stop when he laid eyes on the rack of swords and nearly screamed when he saw it. Or rather when he didn't see it.

The machete, his machete. Some outer district scum had the nerve to take it? Just then, as if born from a blessing, Dean spotted the distinct gleam of a blade in running motion, paired to some forgettable face desperately trying to escape the fray. Oh, like hell he is. Dean grabbed a random sword fit for beheading and pumped like mad for the second time that day to reach his baby. He had the boy within range in seconds, ready to take his deadly swing when the kid suddenly whipped around and dodged his death by a hair. Dean recognized him as Six's Andy Gallagher when their eyes met. With a look of utter terror, the shorter boy swung his stolen weapon at his pursuer, dismayed but not surprised when his blow only caught air.

Dean had been dodging swords since he was still in training wheels. Andy tried making another break for it but only collapsed screaming when Dean's sword cut through his legs in one swift motion. In the next, his head was severed. Expression set into grim lines, Andy's murderer pried his trophy from fingers already stiffening and raced back to the Cornucopia without so much as a glance back. This was what Dean was trained to do. This was all part of the game. By then, each member of the Career pack had made it to Heaven's horn and Dean could already tell with a glance that the Games were going to be starkly different after all because killing wasn't happening. Fighting, however, was.

Sparing a quick scan for the battlegrounds beneath them, Dean spotted poor pregnant Amy with her head bashed in - clearly dead - and District Four's Garth a little ways away sporting a spear to the back. It was a fair assessment to say he was also dead. But apart from a painfully ongoing fight with Ten's Tessa and a gleeful Ruby, the real battle seemed to be taking place between the Twos and Meg against the Second Career pack. Uriel speedily rummaged through the Cornucopia's stash, stuffing all kinds of supplies and weapons inside already overstuffed backpacks while Gwen, Jake, and Gordon guarded his back against the remaining Careers.

Dean could tell the fight was already almost won without his help, but he still felt obligated to play his part. Giving his new machete an experimental swing, Dean plunged into battle with a hard downward swipe meant to slash through Jake's torso, but to his surprise the blow was blocked by the boy's spear lodged precariously between Dean's blade and his own beating heart. However, the strike wasn't completely wasted as Jo took the opening to plunge her axe deep into his chest, leaving Jake barely enough time to suck in a pained breath before he fell dead at the Careers' feet. His allies caught onto their change in luck fast, and after landing a few more defensive blows against their opponents, fled into Hell beyond pursuing. Damn. Dean realized he was panting. They're stronger than they look.

"Not bad, One." Jo smirked, but unlike Ruby's many catlike grins Dean felt hers was sincere. He smiled back with a nod of recognition.

"That was nothing." He cockily swung his blade around for good measure - doing nothing to impress Jo who only laughed and rolled her eyes - until their other allies began to gather around them at the horn's mouth, not exactly sweating but definitely taxed from the whole ordeal. Depending on if the final body count was high enough to appease their audience, they might even get a few minutes to take supply inventory and rest before hunting more tributes. Dean certainly hoped so. Ruby was the last to join them, casually wiping excess blood from her face and neck in annoyance as if the liquid were merely a spilled drink. Meg scoffed at her appearance.

"Glad to see you finally joined the party, One. Would've been nice to have to some help back there." She grumbled.

"Sorry, I was a little preoccupied." Ruby grinned in her coy way. "What's your count?"

Meg brightened immediately. "One. Would've been two if I just had better aim, but whatever. You?"

"One. But there might still be some time left..." Her voice trailed, gaze sweeping over the bloodied abandoned area as if she expected some kid to suddenly pop out of the bushes and beg to be shot. Now it was Dean's turn to roll his eyes.

"Alright, before we do anything does anyone need a medical kit?" He shifted the conversation just as Balthazar slowly raised his hand.

"I might have taken a small stabbing to the shoulder if it's not too much trouble." He let out a choked laugh to play off the pain, but it was obvious his earlier silence had everything to do with the gaping wound still oozing blood through his shirt.

He must've been pissed to get an injury so early on in the Games, and Dean let that small thought make him smile before he started searching their bags for supplies. The medical kit wasn't too hard to find; stuffed neatly into a large hiking pack near the top of the pile and filled with every kind of thing they'd need. Dean could've sworn he'd seen at least three other kits before the gong went off, but it was fair to assume they'd all been taken in the heat of battle. Hell's horn had been purposefully stuffed with second-grade items which excluded any form of medicine. But hopefully they wouldn't need a lot going forward.

Dean jumped back down from the pile to where Ruby and Meg were in close exchange off to the side, leaving Jo sitting alone to clean her weapon while Balthazar was leaned lazily up against the Cornucopia's golden walls. The girls' conversation piqued his interest, but Dean didn't dare press the matter in favor of feigning friendship for just awhile longer. It was still only the bloodbath after all, and if the two Cruella DeVils of the group were already set on scheming against them, then he could very well scheme too. Without much care for his waiting patient, Dean tossed the kit over to where Balthazar sat sunbathing, successfully knocking the knitted fabric square into the boy's skull. He let out a pained grunt in response, and then with no warning a plastic water bottle went flying into Dean's gut.

"You're welcome." He practically growled to the still cross Two. Jo was trying not to burst out laughing.

Meg let out a sharp whistle from her and Ruby's plotting circle, successfully calling everyone's attention back to them. "Guard the supplies. Miss Diamond and I are patrolling the area." She announced loudly in that cocky tone of hers. But before anyone could even think of suggesting otherwise, the two left side by side into the heavenly field of willows and rose bushes. Balthazar groaned.

"Well, those two are definitely up to something." Dean raised an eyebrow slightly at his ally's outward suspicion, not out of disagreement, but the fact that usually sharing secrets were reserved for only the closest allies in Games. He and Bath Salt weren't exactly BFFs. At least he didn't think so.

"Definitely, but we can't do anything drastic yet. Waiting it out is our smartest move." Jo advised without looking up.

Balthazar nodded in deep thought. To his aggravation, Dean's mouth ran dry of any further advice or comment, not even sure how to approach his newfound closer relationship with two of his allies. Was he even truly in on it or did the Twos forget about him entirely? Luckily, he was saved from having to say anything as Balthazar turned directly towards him next, offering a bandage and sewing kit.

"So, Dean. They teach you how stitch up a fellow soldier in One?" He smirked. Dean reeled back his fake confidence in an instant, rolling his eyes as he made his way over to where the pair sat in companionship.

"Come on, that's preschool." He snatched up the offered supplies in a heartbeat and went to work on his ally's shoulder, the only sounds passing between the three being Balthazar's occasional grimace and Dean's muttered apologies. He was trying to be as gently rough as he could be without hurting the guy under Jo's watchful gaze. Their closer alliance was vital to his survival, he knew, but the deep-seated hatred he'd had for their district since childhood still ran strong. Maybe his father did rub off on him after all.

A few minutes later, Dean's slightly haphazard stitches were nearly completed, Jo was comfortable enough to leave them alone to search Hell's Cornucopia, and Balthazar looked ready to try falling back to sleep again. That was when the cannons started. Dean jumped in spite of himself when the first one sounded, earning a loud cry of pain and a small river of blood from Balthazar. He winced in apology looking at the boy's newly formed wound, not even realizing he was missing the body count in trying to fix his mistake. The cannons ended soon after without him anyways and he figured he'd just have to ask for the number. His dad would be disappointed.

"Seven!" Dean quickly tied off the rest of his string and turned to face Meg, marching back to their base alone and blood splattered. Her earlier grin of cocky challenge was replaced with one of wariness, and Dean could only wonder what that meant.

"Seven, huh? Not high enough. The Gamemakers'll want us hunting for sure." Balthazar sighed, quirking a brow suddenly at their ally's odd behavior and further proving Dean's suspicions to be correct. "And where might your 'Miss Diamond' be? Still out searching?"

Meg shrugged non-confirming. "You could say that." She sat off to the side and started rummaging through a backpack in silence. They caught the hint, choosing not to speak again until Jo returned bearing only a small backpack, empty water bottles, and knives. She sighed in frustration before collapsing into her earlier resting spot, scattering her meager findings.

"Apparently Hell has the same budget as District Twelve." She joked, earning small laughter from each of her gathered allies. "So, where's Ruby? We should be leaving to hunt soon."

"Out." Meg bit back. Jo frowned, but before she could question her further another cannon shook the air with its grim resonance.

Meg sighed at their artificial sky. "Make that eight." She muttered.

Eight. It was an improvement, but still relatively low for a bloodbath. Still, Dean didn't volunteer for the Hunger Games to sit around and be pampered - he knew what lay ahead for him. He'd seen the hunt unfold far too many times before. When Ruby finally returned, her cheeks were flushed a bright pink and she bore a wide, satisfied grin that resembled one fattened from a particularly pleasurable meal. Her own blood splatter design was far more prominent than Meg's and her whole form spoke of messy dishevelment; even the delicate flower braids carefully crafted by her stylist had gotten roughed up to point of falling out. Even though she tried to hide it, Dean noticed Meg's scowl of disgust at her supposed "partner in crime's" arrival. Obviously some kind of rift had taken place between them on their trip, maybe a rift they could use.

Jo rose to her feet and sighed, giving her axe a small swing with the motion. "Are we ready then?"

"Definitely." Ruby's grin widened evermore and with no further comment, she led the way back into Heaven's silver forest.

"Hilarious. We're going into Hell." Meg spat, looking ready to drag the girl there herself.

Balthazar coughed and raised his good arm again. "I kind of agree with the angry one. As I recall, those nasty anti-Careers ran that way, so it's only logical we take them out first."

Ruby actually laughed in response. "Do you honestly think that those outer district gang members are a threat? Most of our targets fled for the obvious choice, so that's where we need to be." She started walking away again which only invited more protest.

"Regardless of their actual strength, even you can't deny that they stand for something that needs to die." Jo pitched in next, arms folded and unwilling to bend. Ruby sent her a cold glare in response. One more strike and she was out. Dean took it upon himself.

"Ruby, they're all going to be hunted down eventually. It just makes sense to tackle the big game first." Strike three, she was out.

"Fine, looks you all want to jump into Hellfire. That's just great." She was trying to laugh it off, downplay her loss. "But I'm leading this thing."

Everyone was all too ready to protest that action as well, but even Dean knew it was smarter to quit while they were ahead. The Career alliance, in this stage at least, was still absolutely crucial and the moment he forgot that would be the moment his allies' weapons were turned on him. After gathering as many supplies and food as they could stuff in their backpacks, the group set off in silence towards dark mountains and dead woodland. Normally, the pack would take a vote on who hunts and who stays behind to guard the Cornucopia, but they'd already decided back at the Tribute Center that they'd be a far more deadly force working as one. Besides, with what supplies they had on them just in backpacks, they could each last throughout the entire game. The rest of the supplies - an assortment of small knives, excess empty bottles, sheets of plastic and any food that wouldn't fit - they were all dumped into dark green river water, hopefully never to be seen again.

It probably shouldn't have come as such a shock, but Hell was hot. Unbelievably hot. Dean's stark white shirt from just that morning had soaked into an ugly sweat-grey by the time the sun had crawled halfway across the sky, and by afternoon the whole group was drenched and trembling from heat exhaustion. Still, they travelled without pause or conversation, not even a sarcastic comment from Ruby to break their dreadful silence. But Dean had a feeling that the weakening heat they all felt eating at their skin had less to do with sunlight and more to do with the small trickles of lava running through cracks everywhere and the simmering fires that often sprung up at random hoping to catch someone's shirt. Luckily, no one's shirt had caught on fire yet, but they all experienced its smoke and heat coming off in waves.

By evening, not one remote sign of another tribute was spotted and it wasn't hard to guess why. Ruby's hanging "I told you so" didn't even have to be said. They all felt it burning around them. For a few daunting moments, Dean was certain that Ruby and his other allies would refuse to stop until they at least found one, but finally after the sky had been dark for an hour, Balthazar collapsed in a heap against a crumbling stone wall scorched black. Jo was the first to stop and stare, quickly drawing everyone's attentions to her panting district partner stretched out on the ground in silence. After a few moments of no one moving, he rolled onto his side and lazily unpacked a sleeping bag to use as a pillow, probably to avoid more painful heat waves. They continued to stare with eyes glazed over until Meg spat out a tired "fuck it" and settled down beside him.

Their own indecisiveness gave way soon after, and without a single word or agreement uttered between them, the legendary alliance collapsed around each other into blissful subconscious. Not one single tribute. Not one. Dad is definitely disappointed. That was Dean's last thought before he lost his battle against dreamless sleep.

...

"Please rise and stand for the pledge of allegiance." Mumbled conversation and sighs and chairs squeaking against tile floor.

Oh Horn of Plenty. Oh Horn of Plenty for us all! And when you raise the cry, the brave shall heed -

A sharp feminine scream pierced through Dean's wall of half-aware slumber, causing him to clumsily stand and reach for his machete, surprisingly still clutched in his hand with a death grip. He blinked and his eyes met darkness, darkness just barely challenged by an electric blue glow falling from above. Lifting his head, Dean recognized Samandriel's too kind face staring back almost accusingly from where his death card hung in projection. Death card. The death toll. The anthem wasn't a dream. And then, surprisingly, District Eight's dead boy brought on a new strange thought. He was Castiel's ally...

"What the hell is this?"

"Does it matter? It's obviously deadly and it's everywhere so -,"

"Shit! Shit, shit, shit, shit..."

"She got everything! It's all useless!"

The same female scream rang out again but this time so much closer. Its pain was mixed with a certain howling rage unfamiliar to any of the pack's, closer and closer it sounded until its owner burst into view, being dragged kicking and screaming by a similarly enraged Balthazar. The anthem was still blaring all around them, its soft blue glow still hanging, but still there was no light to recognize any of Dean's company immediately other than by shadowy outline. One of his neighbors rushed to help hold down her ally's violent captive and yet another burst out from where they first appeared, obviously having joined him in the chase.

Firelight flickered suddenly, illuminating Jo's alert but rattled face from where she brought it to life. The light shifted to rest on the scene's bloody center just as the anthem quieted, blow glow extinguished. Balthazar's victim was writhing madly despite his strong arms pinning hers to the rocky ground beneath them without mercy, Meg trying to hold down her legs with great struggle. Ruby was on the girl in an instant with a punch right to her throat serving to silence her screams. Almost subconsciously, Dean and Jo exchanged a worried glance before approaching their fellow Careers.

"Alright, slum bitch. What did you put in the water?" Ruby growled, knives ready for slicing.

The girl spit in her face. "Go to Hell." She croaked out despite the damage Ruby had inflicted on her vocal chords.

The knife slashed straight through both the girl's eyes, and if Ruby had allowed her to scream without another rough hand clamped down on her throat, it surely would've shattered Dean's eardrum. He grimaced, allowing himself for the first time to get a good look at Ruby's unfortunate victim. District Eight, Pamela Barnes. Avid hater of the Capitol, loner, spent much of her training days with survival skills and poisons. Suddenly it all clicked in his head. District Eight's Pamela Barnes had caught the Careers passed out and used the opportunity to poison their water supply. Why she didn't kill them right off the bat, he didn't know. Maybe she just didn't have the guts. Either way, the only reason they were still alive at all was because the Capitol chose that moment to advertise the death toll.

Dean went pale suddenly at the implications of what could've been otherwise. They committed the most fatal flaw in the book - falling asleep without a guard - and would've all died pathetically without the Gamemakers' convenient intervention. He could just imagine his dad screaming at the TV for him to wake up and stop being a weak idiot, stop dishonoring the Winchester name. He must've been so disappointed. And, worst of all, the Career pack likely had no drinkable water left to speak of. The Cornucopia was picked clean, they couldn't go back there. They could chance the arena-splitting river, but its muddy green texture wasn't exactly enticing. Did they even have a purifier on them?

Pam let out another sharp muffled scream and Dean dared glance back to see Ruby cutting into her stomach with a cold practiced hand. He was about to step forward and intervene - why? The reason was lost on him - but Meg of all people was the one to grab Ruby's knife before it found another target.

"She's a bloody pulp now, Ruby. We need to sleep." She reasoned. But Ruby, to everyone's surprise, actually conceded and lowered her weapon in favor of logic. Dean guessed even raging psychopaths could get exhausted under the right circumstances.

"I still need a kill. Hand me the knife." Balthazar demanded. Ruby glared her usual glare as would be expected, but handed it over without protest.

"You won't win this year." Pamela ground her teeth against searing pain. "The Capitol's trained hunting dogs can't murder without wa-,"

The rest of her words were drowned under a sickening red gurgle as Balthazar's blade tore across her neck in a neat line, defeating any last revolutionary words she might've had to say. A cannon fired, but her body twitched painfully for a few more horrible seconds until it finally slumped lamely in the arms of Pam's killer. Against all better judgement, Dean shuddered at the sight. He'd been well-conditioned to handle seeing death and murder played out live on the big screen, but experiencing it up close was an another world in itself. And, for some odd reason, Dean never felt closer to his little brother than in that moment, despite being flown untold distances apart. He knew what taking another life and watching it fade out of existence really meant, and it was terrifying.

Jo sighed and punched a crumbling wall in unexpected fury. "That slum bitch was right. We're dead meat without water."

"Are you sure she got everything?" Dean finally spoke with barely concealed worry.

She laughed harshly. "Everything. Fucking everything."

"But... we have a purifier, right?" He pressed. "We can always go back to the river or to Heaven's lake -,"

"Even if we do, that's an entire's day trek backwards and each of us besides Ruby has only had one kill - one of which was practically handed to us - and that's not even mentioning the fact that we barely survived the heat with water." Jo was seething.

"We could always drink it." Meg's weak joke was met with four unfazed glares. She only shrugged in response. "Well, what do you want me to say? We screwed up, got corned. Shit happens and now our only option is to hike back up to square one, so let's just suck it up and chance the trip. In the meantime, we need sleep. Preferably with a guard this time."

Ruby groaned and cracked her neck. "Whatever, I'll do it. Did anyone catch the death recaps?"

Jo cast her still fuming gaze into her torchlight. "I think I missed the first two or three, but I definitely saw the Nine girl, the Ten girl, both the Elevens, and Twelve's girl. And we already know there are nine dead in total including..." She frowned at Pamela's corpse. "Nameless over here."

"Pamela Barnes from District Eight." Dean corrected, much to everyone's surprise. "I also saw her partner in the recaps, Samandriel Pike. So that means both Eleven and Eight are out of the running already. The only ones left unaccounted for are likely Four's Garth and Six's Andy. I saw them both die at the Bloodbath."

"Did you... memorize all the tributes?" Balthazar looked both awed and a little unsettled at the same time. Dean couldn't help his smug grin in response. He'd been waiting awhile to unveil his own hidden talent.

"It really wasn't that hard. Just a little trick I picked up at Hunger High." He grinned once more and led his allies to another scorched wall for sleeping so the hovercrafts could take Pamela, successfully managing to keep up the appearance of nonchalance as he did so.

If that didn't sponsor them at least one bottle, he wasn't sure what else would do it. From him, anyways. Maybe one of others also had a few tricks to wow their audience with. In the meantime, they all had one hell of a day to plow through tomorrow, so that night Dean was taking full advantage of his energy reserve. He certainly didn't think of his dad cursing his name at home, or Sam watching the TV with bloodshot eyes and no one to help him sleep, he didn't think of Amy Pond or her unborn child, didn't think of the Capitol beauticians sewing Andy's head back on or Pamela's slashed eyes through, and he definitely didn't think of the beautiful blue-eyed Castiel Novak lying alone somewhere, mourning the loss of his friend and maybe missing his watching family. Dean didn't think at all.

A/N: Day 1 of the Hunger Games is officially over. I'm so sorry if one of your favorites was killed in the bloodbath or otherwise off-camera, but some had to go regardless of how much I liked them (tears for Garth and Samandriel). But anyways, please review and tell me what you thought! Were you shocked by any of the tributes that ended up dead or alive? Have any really early Victor predictions or comments? Review

The odds are never in our favor,

-StripedFuzzySocks-