Hello everyone! new chapter update, please review, I'd like to know what you think about their mentor (my sister was sort of pissed I replaced Haymitch, but I think this is a better combination with Dean.

Everyone who reviewed, thank you! that is really a drive to keep you writing.

As you wipe the blood off your blade,

"And for our Tributes, only the best!" Effie paraded into a small dining room. The train that would bring them to the Games was speeding through the landscape.

There was a man wearing a baseball cap sitting at the table.

"And this sweet man is your mentor," Effie smiled, "He will teach you everything he knows about the Games and make you into winners!"

The man got up. He had short, dark grey hair and a scruffy beard. Unlike all the other people that had been to the Capitol often or had been born there, he was dressed sober, in jeans and a plaid blouse. "Well, I never managed to do that before, otherwise there would be another Mentor."

Dean shook the man's hand: "Dean…"

"Winchester, I know you." The man said, "My name's Bobby Singer. I used to be an old friend of your dads."

He had moved on to Jo before Dean could ask him what he had meant by 'used to'.

"Dinner time!" Effie whirled her hands around as she walked through the room, followed by three people in white clothes. The way Effie walked reminded Dean of a peacock.

They sat down and Dean patiently waited for the servants to serve the food on their silver plates.

"Thank you," Dean smiled friendly to the man who served him a slice of pork.

The man didn't respond. He turned away from the table and waited in the corner of the room, like a statue.

"You're not supposed to talk to them," Effie whispered to him, like he was a five year old. "They're Avoxes, got their tongues cut out and they have to serve the capitol for the rest of her lives."

"Why?" Dean asked. His spoonful of mashed potato floated between his plate and his mouth.

"Because they're traitors. They had a fair trial and this is their punishment." Effie shrugged.

"That is inhumane!" Jo protested.

Bobby nodded. "And there is nothing we can do about it. The Capitol makes the rules, not the Districts. Eat your dinner."

Dean and Jo silently obliged. They didn't mind eating dinner, Dean hadn't had any meat in weeks, maybe months, and Jo was always hungry.

After dinner, Bobby sat them down on a couch that was softer than Dean's bed back in 12. Dean closed his eyes and for the first time in a long time he was full and satisfied, warm and cosy.

Getting send to the Games has it's perks, he sighed.

That, until Bobby punched him in the stomach.

"Stay awake boy! Lesson one, the other Tributes."

Dean crawled up in the couch and tugged on his blouse.

"I thought you wanted to win," Jo laughed.

Dean clenched his jaw, thinking about Sam and the way Effie called his name, he grew angry again. He was going to win, he couldn't leave Sammy behind.

"I am going to win," He growled.

Jo laughed, but she silenced quickly when Bobby turned the telly on.

Caesar Flickerman was on, sitting on a chair that turned and holding a stack of cards. He had dyed his hair a dark shade of green this year for the Games.

Jo chuckled.

"Happy Hungergames!" Caesar laughed his remarkably royal laugh, "Today, everywhere throughout Panem, one courageous young man and woman have been reaped or have volunteered to participate in this year's Hunger games!"

The crowds cheered.

"Let's take a look at this year's Tributes."

The screen changed to a town square very similar to the one in 12. Another Justice Building, an escort, bowls.

"I volunteer!" A girl, alethic, muscular and tall. Her name was Ruby .

Then a boy, a volunteer too. Michael.

The boy from 2 was also a volunteer, his name was Gordon Walker and he looked very prepared to rip your throat out.

"I bet you money he's going to be the Alfa in the Career Pack." Bobby raised his beer.

"How much money?" Jo joked.

Dean just nodded. He knew that the Career Pack was usually an alliance between the strongest Tributes. The Tributes that had trained their entire lives for the Games and the ones with outstanding combat skills or talents.

Jo, Dean thought wry. Her hunting and tracking skills would be appreciated very much in the Pack.

He himself, with nothing but 'his eternal love for his brother' to fight with, would probably die before the slaughter at the cornucopia was over…

The tributes flew by, boys, girls, volunteers, children that were pulled away from their parents.

The male tribute from 7 stood out to Dean too, he was small for his age, although he was muscular.

7, Dean thought, Lumber. He probably runs around with an axe all day long. Joy.

Their escort, a fat man with the usual, weird capitol clothes, called his name.

"Castiel Novak!"

Nobody cried for him. Nobody called his name. He just stood there, staring blankly into the crowd. Didn't even react when the girl tribute, a good looking redhead named Anna Milton, wrapped her arm around him.

Jo laughed: "Well, he's not going to last long. He'll probably just stay stiff on his pedal until someone slits his throat."

Dean scraped his throat. "That's not funny Jo."

"Well okay grumpy." Jo shrugged.

"It's almost as if we're going to die, is it?" Dean growled, without taking his eyes off the screen.

Jo got up, "I'm going to bed,"

Dean didn't react.

Boy from 8 was a bit chubby.

Jo left.

Ignore Jo.

After a tribute from 9 that was another possible Pack tribute, Dean spoke a thought that had passed his mind a few times: "Maybe I can join the Career Pack."

Bobby bowed forward: "Do you have anything remarkable thing? You know. About you?"

"I can mine coal."

Bobby laughed and leant back in the couch: "I'll tell the other Mentors."

Dean nodded, he understood that the odds weren't really in his favour on this one.

They watched Caesar again.

"So for 11, a strong young man and a sweet girl,"

"Well," his co-presenter said, "I'm not impressed by those two."

Caesar laughed: "Chuck Shurley and Becky Rosen, we look forward to see you in action! Over to the last District, District number 12!"

Dean stared at the telly as his District came on. Effie called Jo's name. They talked.

Dean closed his eyes when Effie pulled a card from the boys bowl. He prayed it would be different this time, even though he knew better.

"Samuel Winchester!"

He got up. "I'm going to bed."

"Dean?!"

He walked away, he didn't want to hear it.

"Sammy? No! I volun-"

The door shut behind him. There was a female Avox standing in the corridor.

"Can you tell me where my room is?" he tried to sound friendly, but his fight with Jo, the Reapings, made him sound blunt.

The Avox pointed to a door on the right, Dean went in.

"Good evening Mister Winchester," the lights turned on and a metallic voice greeted him.

"Shut up," Dean growled.

"If that's what you wish Mister Winchester."

The next morning, before breakfast, Dean entered Jo's room.

She was in a bathrobe, her hair combed backwards, still damp from the shower.

"They have a shower here! I never showered before!" She smiled.

Dean smiled back, he himself had spent a couple of hours in the shower cabin too.

"Would you mind closing the door?" Jo asked.

Dean turned around, nodding, when he heard the same metallic voice as yesterday.

"Of course Miss Harvelle," it said, and the door closed.

Dean cleared his throat uncomfortably. "I'm sorry about yesterday."

Jo nodded, chewing on her whiteboard marker, "I'm sorry too, we're both a bit cranky I suppose."

Dean looked at the whiteboard.

"I'm trying to figure out who's joining the Career Pack," she said.

Careers
-Michael Desnato (1)
-Ruby Lamior(1)
-Gordon Walker (2)
-Lilith White (2)

Alliances
Chuck Shurley + Becky Rosen
Gabriel Laufeyson + Bela Talbot
Castiel Novak + Anna Milton

"It's not much," she smiled. "Just writing down a couple of names, they kept roaming my head, I thought this could be the way to get them out."

Dean smiled: "You know what?" he took the marker and added two names to the 'Careers' list.

Crowley King (8)
Dean Winchester (12)

"You want to join the Career Pack? And what's with the Crowley kid? Why would they want him?"

Dean shrugged: "I think Crowley is extremely cunning,"

"And you?" Jo raised an eyebrow.

"Usually someone from the Pack wins the Games." Dean nodded.

"But why would they let you in the Pack?" Jo asked. "No offense." She added.

Dean smiled. "None taken, since I don't know yet either. They don't need me for anything. But I need to win Jo. I must go back to Sammy."

Jo nodded and added two names to the 'alliance' list.

Dean Winchester + Jo Harvelle

Dean shook his head: "You know only one person is coming out,"

"That's the plan. Dean, I propose this: we team up and hunt down the Careers. My tracking skills are excellent but I lack strength. You are strong but you lack tracking skills. Once we eliminated all the Careers or we are with the last five Tributes, we separate and move the other direction. We hope we never meet again and if we do, we fight to the death."

Dean shook her hand, he met her gaze. There was a determent look in her strong, brown eyes. She pulled him into a hug.

"It's going to be you, Dean. Once I'm without you I'll die soon. I can survive and hide, but in combat I'm worthless."

Dean swallowed hard. That was the cold, hard truth, he knew it. He also knew that with his victory, if there was going to be one, Ellen would lose her only child, her last family member.

"I promise I'll look after your mom," Dean said. The undertone was 'I'm winning. You're going to die.'

Dean didn't know if he could kill Jo if he would meet her again in the Arena. He hoped he didn't have to.

"My name is Lucia!" a woman with black lashes longer than her purple hair danced into the room, following a cart with materials Dean didn't recognize. "And this is Horatius!"

Dean was sitting on one of those hard and uncomfortable bed doctors have.

"We are the Prep Team for District 12. At least, Portia's team," Horatius said. He had remarkably long nails for a man.

"What?" Dean said, shaking his head, "Prep team? Portia?"

Lucia laughed, a bit like Caesar, though not as royal. "Oh, sometimes I forget you're from the Districts! Portia is 12's stylist, she and Cinna, the stylist for the girl Tribute, design the costumes and hair styles you wear at the interviews and the Tribute Parade, which is this afternoon!"

With 'afternoon' her voice shot up high. Like she was asking a question or singing a song.

Dean remained silent. He didn't care about costumes and hairstyles. Actually, he just wanted to be in the Arena, slay the other Tributes and go back home.

"Well, I won't have a hard job with his hair," Horatius said, calculating, "Do you want me to help you with the waxing?"

"Waxing?"

They ignored him. Lucia nodded.

"If you wouldn't mind, please take off your clothes and take place on the table, so we can start washing you down." Horatius smiled.

"What? Like, all my clothes?" Dean stuttered.

Lucia nodded.

Dean saw no other way than to oblige. He undressed himself, tossed his clothes in a corner and awkwardly took place on the hard bed.

Lucia pulled a pair of tweezers out of her belt and enthusiastically started epilating Deans eyebrows.

"Keep your head still sweetheart, otherwise I'll have to draw them back on later." Lucia smiled.

"You can also just leave them where they are." Dean mumbled, but he was distracted by Horatius, who started scrubbing the first three layers of his skin off with scrub that probably had boulders in it.

"Are you trying to grow a beard?" Lucia asked, stroking the stubble on his jaw.

Dean shook his head. Actually, he was too lazy to shave and they didn't always have the money for razors. Plus, it made him look older, since there were not a lot of seventeen-years-olds with stubble that hard.

Lucia started shaving his stubble while Horatius waxed his leg hair.

"Au! Hey! What is that good for?" Dean protested.

"You have leg hair…?" Horatius stated, like it was something extremely obvious that he was asking for.

"Yes, and I'd prefer it to stay on my legs!"

Horatius nodded and started smearing the hot wax on his lower abdomen.

Dean felt it coming: "O no, not there, not there!"

Horatius pulled the strip and Dean gritted his teeth. "Son of a bitch," he muttered, almost inaudible.

"I've heard worse," Horatius smiled.

The two stylists scrubbed, waxed and washed him until his skin felt raw.

Before they excused themselves, Lucia gave him a soft bathrobe, like the one that Jo had been wearing the same morning and they told him that his stylist, the Portia girl, would come along soon.

Dean waited again, mindlessly stroking his not-so-hairy legs.

"As soft as a babies skin, ain't they?" a clear voice laughed.

The voice was followed by a lady with blond hair and heavy pink eye make-up, carrying a suitcase. She shook Dean's hand.

"I'm Portia, your stylist." She smiled sweet.

"Dean Winchester," Dean didn't even try to smile anymore.

Portia placed the suitcase on the hard bed carefully and opened it.

"Your costume for the opening ceremonies!" she smiled.

In the suitcase was a full body suit, neatly folded. When Dean pulled it out, he noticed how hard the material was. Almost like scales.

"It's your armour." Portia tapped the material, "You and Jo both want to win right? You don't see that very often from 12'ers. Cinna thought of making an armour completely out of coal."

She helped Dean in it. The material was so tight and hard that he could barely move in it. He told Portia.

"Well," she pursed her lips. "A) it's coal and B) it's supposed to be pretty, not practical. You only have to stand on that carriage."

Dean nodded

He followed Portia to the carriages, that were just outside, waiting for them.

Jo was wearing a similar suit to his, feeding sugar cubes to the horses.

Right before they mounted the carriage, a black man in black clothes walked towards them.

Dean couldn't help but stare. This was, by far, the most normal person he met in the capitol.

"Hey Cinna! We're here!" Jo waved.

"Well, ain't you glad to see him!" Dean smiled.

"Hey Jo," Cinna said. His voice was low, almost mesmerizing. "I forgot to give you two this."

He handed them two, bloodied pick-axes. Dean stared at them.

"Why weapons?" he asked.

"Well," Cinna said. "A man that wears armour needs a weapon."

A bell sounded. All the Tributes mounted their carriages, fixing their clothes and make-up for one last time.

"Good luck," Cinna said.

Panem's national anthem played and the horses trotted away, to the big lane leading to the Presidential Palace.