It was the soft crackling of fire which caused Dean, reluctantly, to open his eyes to a new day. Day two now.
Drowsily, he groaned and forced himself to rise from an awkward sleeping position lodged between some cooling lava rocks and a crumbling stone wall. According to their possibly reliable sky, it was just past dawn and everyone else was still asleep. Everyone, that was, except for him and Jo. He gazed blearily in the direction of the crackling fire which woke him to see her slim blonde figure hunched over one of Hell's many infernos, roasting a package of something in silent concentration. He didn't stare for long before her green eyes snapped over to meet his on instinct, a tired smile lightening her features in response. He sent her a small grin back before walking over to meet her, careful not to wake any of their more crazed company in doing so.
They sat next to each other for a few minutes, just watching the package of what looked to be a rice dinner burn slowly over the concentrated heat, not a word spoken but not entirely awkward either. There was some kind of naturalness to simply being in the other's presence that Dean found comforting in its own way. A thought crossed his mind suddenly that that would be the moment his father would've lost it and killed the girl in cold blood. But he wasn't his father and this Hunger Games wasn't his own revenge quest. With what Sam had done to the Twos of his game... you'd think that was enough. Dean kept telling himself that.
"That was clever, what you did with memorizing all the tributes. I'm surprised that alone didn't lure in any sponsor gifts. I would've sponsored that." Jo's unexpected compliment came so off-handedly that Dean had to take a moment to register its full meaning.
"Thanks." The response was gruff and pathetic, but Jo seemed to take it anyway. A few more moments passed before Dean found his voice again.
"Maybe they're not sending water because we're close to it somehow and the Gamemakers are just waiting for us to find it." His suggestion sounded idiotic in afterthought and he wanted to punch himself for even bringing it up. Sure, the lava wasteland had water.
But Jo had a smile on her face. "Well, with artificial arenas I guess you never know." She seemed to be holding back laughter.
"Although, to be honest I figured your Victor brother could have at least managed to pull a few strings for you by now, mentor or not. He's in the Capitol, right?" She inquired. Dean's throat went tight. Don't show it, don't crack.
"No. I, uh... I told him to sit this one out, stay in the District. Our dad and Bobby probably don't want to watch alone." Dean failed to successfully hide the note of sadness in his voice, but thankfully Jo didn't keep prodding. Instead, she nodded thoughtfully and then another smile graced her expression.
"I get it. My mom's an instructor at my..." Local Murder Academy. "High school, and she's helped me a lot to become the person I am today." Jo hesitated suddenly, as if debating whether or not to continue. The former won out. "My father also fell honorably in the Games, like your mother. I sometimes imagine he'd be proud."
Dean, against his better judgement, exchanged a look of honest appreciation with his ally for the first time. Finally, he'd met someone who understood living under a martyr. His whole life he'd been told to find justice, but that task was becoming increasingly harder as it now meant the definite death of at least one of them. Maybe they'd even become martyrs themselves. Dean's private loathing for the vicious cycle led him to halt their short conversation, allowing his father's words of vice to soak in his head once more until the rest of their pack awakened. You make those fuckers from District Two suffer, you hear me? Dean knew what he had to do, regardless of his own instinct fighting every word. I'm trying, dad. I'm really trying.
Balthazar woke up first and shook the scheming duo awake to a rice breakfast fully cooked. They only allowed themselves a few minutes of rest and food before their backwards journey began through painfully familiar structures of rocky lands bathed in flames. Dean, meanwhile, was prepared to harden himself to anything to stay alive throughout the waiting horrors, no matter who or what tried to stand in his way. That was what the Capitol wanted after all, what he needed. He'd made a promise to Sammy, a promise that he fully intended to keep. Dean was not coming home in a box.
Yesterday, the Careers managed to keep their energies up to full until at least noon, but that day after only a few hours, sweat was beading from every conceivable skin surface. A few times, the group tried to pick up their pace so they could arrive faster but each attempt was eventually slowed to a pathetic shuffling. Dean found that as long as he didn't think about the growing pain in his legs or feet, or his skin burning him alive as they trudged on, he could almost forget it was happening. Instead, he let his mind wander absently at his surroundings and travel companions one by one, even making a game out of it.
Every so often, Meg would grab her shirt and use it as a sweat band for her forehead and armpits, grimacing in clear disgust at her state of ruggedness but never daring to complain aloud. Dean guessed she didn't want to appear weak in front of her similarly suffering allies, a notion he actually agreed with as he himself was going on the same mindset. Balthazar stumbled every now and then to the concern of Jo and no one else, but he picked up his speed just enough to trail at the group's rear, pretending to keep a sharp lookout for approaching danger. Or maybe he really was trying to be the scout and Dean was a harsh judge, not like he truly cared.
No matter what sort of friendship he'd managed to feign with the guy, his true feelings about him were still age old rivalry and general irritation. Dean could easily let himself lag to the back as well if he wanted to, but unlike Two's boy he had something called inner strength which he planned on exercising as much as possible. He knew he'd let his father down so much already and it was only the second day; he did not plan on screwing up this game any further.
Jo seemed to be faring the worst out of all of them, not like she'd ever admit it. But only judging from a casual glance, Dean saw it was obvious how badly her body was handling the conditions they continued to push through. Her long blonde hair left alone by her stylist had grown stringy with sweat beading down from her scalp and tangling at the ends. Sweat was pouring everywhere, every possible place it could to the point where if Dean didn't know any better he'd thought she just jumped into a pool. No, no. No, not a pool. Anything but a pool. But it was already too late. Dean's imagination vividly conjured the sweet sensation of jumping in, clothes and all, into a crystal clear swimming pool and feeling the cool liquid rush over him all at once.
Coldness seeping without hesitation over his every surface, surrounding him, engulfing him, dripping icy temperature all over his body and even into his mouth as Dean began drinking it. Oh God, it felt like drinking Heaven and feeling its embrace all at once, it... it wasn't real. Dean roughly snapped his attention back to the present. The present: burning among zombies in hyper-realistic Hell. He could easily have started crying at that point. Luckily or unluckily, Dean doubted he had any body fluids left for that. He knew he had to stay alert, stay in the moment. He couldn't let himself drift away so fast like that again if he wanted to stay alive.
Painfully, he wrenched his attentions back to the surroundings he was currently stuck with. Meg: disgusted, upset, but putting on a brave face for the cameras. Balthazar: weak, stumbling, giving in to his need to slow down. Jo: possibly the weakest of all and just barely held together by her extensive training back in her District. Ruby... Dean craned his neck back to the front where Ruby was still leading their expedition through Hellfire, her pace steady and her sweat-grey back stiff as a soldier in the military. His resting frown deepened. She seemed to be having little trouble at all with their journey. In fact, she might've even been sprightly.
"Alright, it's noon. We need to eat." Balthazar interrupted Dean's growing suspicions over his partner, forcing him to look back again to where the boy was already slowing to a stop. Unsurprisingly, Jo was first to follow suit with Dean and Meg not far behind. Privately, he would've liked to show a little more resistance to stopping in favor of showing strength, but at that point Dean's body was ready to collapse in on itself with or without his consent. Ruby merely turned around and shrugged as though she couldn't care less whether they kept on going and joined her allies where they already sat rummaging like starving wolves through their packs.
At first, no one made a sound besides tearing open packages and chewing in deep bliss as if they were consuming some rich gourmet straight from the kitchens of the Capitol, as opposed to the bland meat strips and crackers designed for basic defense against starvation and little more. Dean considered using the moment to warn his allies about eating too much of the crackers without proper hydration, but thought better of it when he realized talking would mean he'd have to stop chewing. That was something he knew he couldn't bring himself to do just yet. Far sooner than any of them liked, their allowed food packs for lunch had run out, leaving behind dazed tributes to delay having to stand and walk again. Ruby, of course, was the first to rise, casually stretching out her muscles as if they needed more of a workout and smiled brightly at her exhausted crew members.
"So, are we done here?" She asked with false innocence. Dean resisted the urge to openly groan and instead refused to move until everyone else did. Yeah, that sounds like a good plan.
"Cut the crap, Ruby." Jo's tone was vicious, startling those around her into listening. "We all know you're doing something to keep yourself alive while the rest of us suffer, so how about telling us what that is?"
For a second, Ruby just stared blankly back into Jo's accusing glare as if in a state of mild shock. Although the action was subtle, Dean noticed Balthazar hold a steady grip onto his previously forgotten sword, blue gaze held steady on the girls' every movements. Meg refused to look up from where she still packed her bag, but she sat frozen with her muscles tensed, ready to move at a moment's notice. Dean himself took the hint and rose a little in anticipation of what might happen, feeling his fingers wrap subconsciously around his precious machete. Maybe nothing will happen... it was clear that Jo was still quite delirious from the trek through hell and might just be acting hostile out of pent up aggression, but there was a certain fire to her stance that made Dean want to take everything she said seriously. And right then, she looked seriously ready to murder his district partner.
The moment of tension was broken without warning by Ruby bursting into laughter. "What, like a secret energy drink I pulled out of my ass? If you all are supposedly suffering in this environment, then that's on you. Some of us actually prepared before volunteering."
Warily, Dean fixed his green gaze on Jo's - unwavering despite her ally's taunting - but still he tightened his grip just in case a side needed to be taken. Jo. He was surprised to hear himself think. I'll have to side with Jo. It didn't matter that she was from District Two, or that Ruby's fighting spirit was harsher and just the kind of ruthless he'd want by his side; Dean knew deep down he had only one real option here. He'd choose the girl he needed by his side, the one he actually trusted for some unknown reason. Sparing another quick glance to observe his allies, Dean found that both Meg and Balthazar had reached the same conclusion as their expressions had hardened with resolve. For who... he had no idea.
"If you prepared, then you know that no normal human can withstand these temperatures and be as well off as you are. Not without water or medicine at least." Jo was standing now, moving threateningly closer to her adversary as she spoke. "So my question is which. Is it water or medicine you're hiding from us?"
"Jo, this is ridiculous." Ruby was still laughing, though now it seemed more forced. "None of you actually believe this, right?" Her tone rose threateningly as she turned to face her allies.
"How would I even get access to those things in the first place? All of you witnessed the cornucopia distribution; what little supplies Eight's girl had we all shared, and I've been stuck with all of you ever since the gong went off. Didn't get any sponsor gifts." Meg's eyebrows crinkled. Balthazar's reaction was a closed book.
"How can we be sure about that?" Jo barreled on. "Maybe your mentor snuck you one while we were sleeping sometime and you decided not to share."
"Alright, this is getting pathetic. Even for you." Ruby shot back harshly.
"Fine, then why don't you prove how pathetic I am?" Barbed sarcasm dripped off her every word. "Unpack your bag and cargo pockets."
"You're kidding me." Ruby's laughter was quickly getting desperate but still no one jumped to her defense. Not even Meg.
"Well, I think it's a reasonable enough request." Balthazar proposed carefully. "Do it."
Ruby's glare could have carved ice, but it was clear at that point the Career's glorified strongest member was backed into a corner. Wordlessly, Dean shifted to stand alongside the others in opposition, no longer afraid of consequence now that it was clear where everyone stood. Admittedly, a small part of him was still scared of being wrong, even if the chance was slim. Maybe the day's heat was just messing with all their brains again and they faced widespread embarrassment in the Capitol, or maybe Ruby really was lying as he suspected and they had some strength yet. No, he had to believe that. Jo wouldn't make such an accusation if she wasn't sure.
A few more moments passed in silence before Jo finally snapped and grabbed Ruby's arm, twisting it viciously before shoving her caught off guard right into Balthazar's improvised chokehold from behind. Desperately, she felt for her weapons but was stopped abruptly by her captor's intensified grip on her throat, jerking her body into stillness just long enough to press a sword gently but threatening against her neck. For a second, Meg looked like she wanted to intervene but clearly thought better of it as Jo moved against her own exhaustion to start roughly searching the contents of her ally's pockets. Her fingers stopped and closed around a bulkier one, yanking out a steel container as Ruby feebly tried kicking her away one last time.
"That doesn't prove anything. We all kept our bottles." Her voice rasped under pressure.
Ignoring her, Jo twisted the cap and downed sweet clear liquid. Dean's mouth opened of its own accord at the sight of it, dry and needy, but his own desperation was quickly replaced with rage as his gaze moved to take in that of his district partner, whose eyes now focused right on him in a silent call for help. Help. Now that was hilarious. Kicking them to the side all this time, acting so superior expecting some kind of one-sided loyalty when he knew - had the roles reversed - she would have laughed in his face. So that was just what he did. Laughed as Meg finally lost it and lunged at Ruby's trapped body like something feral, leaving a large but shallow slash square across her former ally's face, cracking open the once beautiful portrait. Dean could already tell a scar like that left a permanent mark, not that she'd be alive to agonize over such a thing.
Maybe the Capitol would do their favorite student one last favor and stitch her corpse up nice and neat afterwards, but Ruby - breathing, fighting Ruby - would die wearing every laceration. That's when she allowed herself to truly scream for the first time since Dean met her, but the jarring sound was lost beneath a sudden cacophony of howls shaking the air around them. Dean hastily turned to meet the source of whatever fresh horror preyed upon them now, but to his unnerving realization, the disembodied growls held no appearance. Frantically, he looked to the others to make sure they were hearing it too, and to his relief their matched expressions told the same story. But, still, the hound's terrifying barks were empty. It could be a trick of the speakers-
When Meg's knife came down again, the blow sliced open Balthazar's forearm - once held tight against Ruby's throat, it now flinched back with a pained hiss - under Ruby's newfound grip on her wrist. From there, she moved like lightning to the slow-moving horror of those surrounding. With an aggression that could only come from the first deep cut of betrayal, Ruby thrust Meg's shorter frame into the source of the howls without precision, watching with surprised fascination when her body shredded before them. It thrashed madly in terror, bleeding a river of red while chunks of innards disappeared inexplicably to carve up something unrecognizable. But the sounds. The sounds Meg let out as the invisible beasts tore into her would grow to haunt Dean's memory, transfixing him for the moment in shock. As much as he willed himself to look away - hell, to run - the almost unrealistic horror of it all halted him.
It was the firing cannon which freed him, finally, to the selfish danger of the present, and this time there was nothing stopping him from rushing to save himself; enemies and allies be damned. There was a sort of blind rush to it, a rush he hadn't felt since the Bloodbath but burned aggressively in his lungs in a welcoming way. It awakened his spirit, screamed at him to collapse and run and surrender and fight all at the same time as though in a dream soaked with the sting of liquor... Saturday nights when trainers left the academy for a night on the town, slackers raided their liquor cabinets and for a short while the pain was forgotten... Dean always had the most fucked up dreams. Stay sharp, stay sharp.
His body screamed at him louder, but the faceless mutts' howling reigned victorious over any exhaustion. Some other screams farther back. Dean couldn't tell who; he couldn't afford to bother turning. No cannon fired. His feet picked up, each stride pounding with fearful ferocity on the scorched earth littered by artificial ruins; Dean felt himself come so close to tripping over jagged rubble numerous times, nearly giving himself a heart attack every near-collapse. He wouldn't be able to outrun these creatures for much longer, that he knew. They were stronger, faster, engineered for killing... no, so was he. If he could just manage to hold out long enough to climb that one bombed out hell tower he could figure out a plan from there.
It was dangerously close to the Cornucopia, and by extension Heaven's open land, but he was sure he could make it. He would. The stained white concrete was already fast approaching in his vision, winding up above the haphazard tree line in an enticing whisper pushing him to run - run with his last breath of life. He could make it, he could make it. It was right as Dean's hands hit concrete when he witnessed his own calf burst open, and for a hot second before the searing pain of a hundred rows of canines chomping down kicked in, he could've imagined he resembled a pomegranate.
Then the pain came; erupted behind his eyelids, twitching and flashing like a camera stuck on shudder. His body convulsed against his will, thrashing on solid ground which only served to maximize what torture the hellhounds wasted no time inflicting. Dean's heart was pumping wildly inside his chest, threatening to burst outside its cage at any given moment along with any other organs the beasts cared to take. In a sickening realization, he tasted the salty tang of his own blood spraying like a faucet in his mouth, stretched wide open in some special agony only known to the dying. The sound shattered beneath predatory howls closing in on all sides, claustrophobia heard but not seen.
What a... fucking... pathetic way to go...
And here I thought I'd actually make it... at the very least get murdered decently...
Sam...
Dean's ears gave out with a bang. One fantastic release of sound, and then deafening silence. No more teeth tore into him now, that or he finally lost all feeling. Was that how it was? Lose one sense at a time, drift away... Dean couldn't complain as long as it happened fast. Exhale, eyes roll back into sightlessness, red insides ooze into red outsides... Dean let go. But he was not alone. His pale, drained neck failed to register two smooth fingers press gently onto its skin, waiting in apprehension for a sign of life. Amazingly, it was found. The fingers quickly retracted themselves just as soon as they'd settled, for their host now faced a difficult decision. One that would soon determine Dean's life or his death.
But Castiel Novak had to be honest with himself for once. There was simply no way he could bring himself to let this boy die in front of him - this monster, this child-murdering psychopath on a ridiculous quest to outshine his equally insane younger brother, this human being - and consciously live with that decision. Sighing, the angelic boy resigned to his task.
A/N: And just when you thought I'd never update! Expect future chapters to come out even more sporadically. It probably would have come sooner had I had some more reviewer incentive... but alas...
Okay, for real though. Y'all better leave me some actual reviews this time around to get my motivation going or I can't promise this'll update sooner than later. That matter aside, I really do appreciate all of you taking the time to read this as I also enjoy writing it.
- Until Next Time -