Full Title for this Chapter: The Moral is That Dean Needs to Work on Cas' Social Skills

Disclaimer: I really don't own anything. I barely own this story, because I honestly didn't actively try to think this up. It was a dream, and that's it.

Sam slowly walked towards one of the dangling bodies and grasped at the robed man's key necklace. Dean examined the web and the houses, scanning through scenery for any explanation.

"What do you think it means?" they both queried simultaneously. They obviously both had no idea.

Dusk was fast approaching, the morbid hanging figures cast dull shadows across the dirt ground. Sam sighed, feeling a chronic migraine that has probably been in effect for about 7 years take hold of him again. Wait– Dusk?

"Dean."

"What?"

"It was dark a minute ago. Why is it suddenly light?"

"Huh," Dean said, with a trace of sarcasm, "More crazy crap to add to the list of crazy crap on this crazy, crappy day."

"I think you better call Cas, Dean."

"Okay, one, he didn't come when we tried calling him in that forest, and two, and I cannot repeat this enough apparently, but he does not live in my ass!"

A flap of wings, "Hello Dean, Sam." Cas greeted from behind Dean.

"Dammit, are you fucking kidding me." lamented Dean.

"I fail to see how the situation you two are currently in is amusing." Cas replied.

"Halt," a young, commanding voice commanded, "How did that man appear out of nowhere?" Sam and Dean immediately whipped out their guns, pointing them in the direction of the voice. The owner of the voice stepped out from the trees.

Katniss had been watching them for a little while. She happened to stumble upon them when returning to the clearing with the Hanging Web. She herself had no idea who these people in robes were, but she was intent on finding out. Her heavy pockets were a testament to that, as well as a plump groosling hanging on her shoulder. She was after all, by nature, a survivalist.

And survivalists are always prepared to be deal with problems all alone, with no one to rely on. She thought she was all alone, with no one to rely on. Imagine her surprise when she saw two men, one would probably be called handsome by the girls from school, the other was a giant with fairly gentle features, who would probably also be considered attractive by other girls. She stepped closer towards the men, angling her body to hide herself better in between the trees. They seemed to be arguing, rather one-sidedly. The first man had an odd language that Katniss had only heard in the speech of local drunks or sellers in the Hob. Watchful of her steps and her visibility, she tilted her head out a bit more to get a better look.

It took her a second, but she finally managed to register that a man in a long, tan coat appeared out of thin air.

It didn't take a second to ready her bow and arrow.

Sam and Dean were once again shocked.

'It was a girl,' Dean thought. A kid.

What was a teenaged girl doing out here in the middle of goddamn nowhere pointing a fucking bow and arrow –why the hell a bow and arrow?!– at them, with a huge-ass bird slung over her shoulder. What. The. Hell.

Cas' eyes were the only ones not fixed on the kid with surprise. In fact, it seemed as if his eyes were rather full of sorrow. 'Fuck. Emotions.'

Dean kept his gun trained on her, as did Sam, and in return, she moved the target of her bow from Dean to Cas.

A staring showdown started apparently, but it ended pretty damn fast because Sam made the surrendering motion with his hands and laid down his gun. Sam gestured Dean to do the same, which he did slowly, yet hesitantly.

"Um... Hello. I'm Sam Winchester, and this is my brother Dean," Sam introduced with a wave of his hands, "And this is Cas. He's a friend of ours. And we can't really explain how he appeared without sounding absolutely nuts, but–"

Cas took a step toward the kid, "I am Castiel. I am an Angel of the Lord, and you are Katniss Everdee–"

Cas was cut a short by an arrow to the chest. He looked at it.

The girl, Katniss apparently, gaped in shock. Slowly, Cas pulled the arrow out. Not a drop of blood. In kid's defense, he was like that when he first met him, and it was understandably creepy, to the level of 'oh-shit-what-the-fuck-do-I-do-now.'

Katniss, in what looked a lot like anger, pivoted her foot, reloaded her bow, and shot an arrow at Dean. Cas appeared in front of Dean, grabbing the arrow in front of his face at what seemed to be faster than the speed of light.

Katniss obviously deflated, realizing she couldn't kill them. What a girl who looked to be about 16 or 17 with a bow and arrow and using it to kill people at such an age would be doing, Dean had no idea.

"Do not be afraid. I am an Angel. And we too are trying to find an answer to this riddle." Cas stated, using his goddamned 'high-and-mighty-and-righteous' tone of voice.

Somehow, by mutual silent understanding, they all moved to sit down in the middle of the circle.

"My name is Katniss. I am from Panem, District 12. I was the victor of the 74th Hunger Games. I am an illegal hunter. I am 17 years old."

"Um... Great. Well, I'm Dean and this is Sam, as you know. I am Sam's older brother. We hunt demons, vengeful spirits, mythical creatures, and other things for a living. Family career and all that. We know Cas and about angels because of some apocalypse stuff that happened a while back."

The fire crackled in the middle of the group.

"So... Cas. Why didn't you respond when we were in the forest?"

"I couldn't hear you, nor reach you. It seems you were in another dimension."

"Another dimension, huh," Dean murmured, "Well, great."

Silence.

More Silence.

Awkward Silence.

At some point, they decided to dig into Katniss' groosling.

"Well, um... Katniss, what's the Hunger Games?" Sam asked politely.

"I'm surprised you people do not know." Katniss said.

"Well, I guess you could say we're not natives." Dean snarked (with his mouth full while munching on a groosling leg).

"The Hunger Games is a yearly lottery hosted by the Capitol of Panem. In each of the twelve districts, a boy and a girl from the age of 12 to 18 are chosen to compete. There are 24 'tributes' total. Usually, there is only one slip of paper in the lottery bowl when you are 12, and you add one extra ticket for each year." Katniss began.

"Okay, lottery. That's nice." Dean commented. Cas frowned. Sam shushed Dean.

"If you are poor and your family is starving, you can submit more slips of paper with your name on it for the lottery in return for some tesserae, a grain ration to feed your family."

Sam nodded, chewing thoughtfully on the miniature-turkey. That sounded nice.

"On the day of the lottery, which we call the Reaping–"

"That's a fairly dark name. And I've seen a lot of dark things. Death for example. Hell, for another." Dean interjected. Cas frowned deeper.

Katniss fiddled with the laces of her boots. "That's because the tributes that are selected from the Reaping are eventually taken to an arena to fight each other to the death until there is only one child left alive for the entertainment of the Capitol."

Dean and Sam choked on their food. Cas sighed.

"I'm sorry about the circumstances of your life. Please accept my sincere condolences. At least you volunteered to save your younger sister, and that there were two victors for the first time ever that year. It's not your fault Peeta lost his leg, or that Rue died." Cas offered, his voice deep, and words genuine.

Katniss' eyes flickered downward at the mention of Primrose, Peeta, and Rue. She had quickly adapted to accept that angels existed (but was slightly unsure of what angels were, or Lords), but grasped that Castiel could know anything and everything about a person's life if he so chose.

"Rest assured the Lord does not endorse any such vulgarity, and in fact disapproves of it." Cas continued. Dean was clutching his forehead in distress, and Sam was reflecting how the Hunger Games seemed a lot like that time when Yellow-Eyes forced all the demon-blood-children to fight against each other. He wasn't exactly the 'Victor', considering he died, but it was hard to tell if that was a good or bad thing at this point.

"If it makes you feel any better, I think I know how you feel...?" Sam put forward.

"Thank you, I suppose." Katniss said. She was not inclined to speak unless spoken to, as she was still cautious about the three men (or two men and an angel).

Silence.

More Silence.

Awkward Silence.

It's been happening a lot between the group.

"So. Anyone want to explain what might be going on?" Dean asked, motioning to the dead bodies hanging from the web above and around them.

"I believe these people are druids. A peaceful, magical race from a time long ago. They have long since died out, and other creatures bearing the same name took their place in mythology, like the druid that tried to attack Sam when he was little." Cas supplied.

"Great. Dead magical people, basically," Dean scoffed, "There's no such thing as magic."

"You never know, Dean. The thing is, pretty much anything can be real at this point." Sam replied.

"Then what of these keys hanging from their necks?" Katniss urged Cas.

"That I do not know. I have never seen nor heard of such ornaments in relation to druids or magic."

Silence.

More Silence.

Awkward Silence.

By this time, the silence was becoming a habit.

"Would you like another wing?" Katniss offered to Dean.

"You sure? Don't we need to stock up or something?"

"At the rate and amount of food you people eat, I suppose we ought to just finish this groosling by tomorrow morning, and I'll go hunting again after."

"If you say so." Dean agreed, plucking the wing from Katniss' hand.

What do you think? Any suggestions? What do you think will happen to them? Did I portray the characters well? Please give me constructive feedback!

Also, irrelevant to this story: I AM SUFFERING FROM MASSIVE DESTIEL FEELS AND BE PREPARED IF, AT SOME POINT, I BARF A GIANT PILE OF INNUENDOS ON THIS STORY LATER.