This is a Supernatural Hunger Games AU that will be written with Paopufruity!! We'll be alternating chapters. You're totally welcome to read even if you haven't watched Supernatural!! It should still make sense. 

 

Chapter 1 

 

Dean blew out another loud breath. He shifted his weight to his other foot and clenched his jaw, moving just to relax himself. The waiting was always the worst part of the Reapings.

 

Thankfully, it was Dean's last year in the Reaping. After he and Sam outgrew it, Dean wouldn't have to worry about these days anymore. He wouldn't have to stand out in the middle of the square on a sticky summer day, terrified that either he or Sammy would die. A hard life of laboring in the District 11 fields was better than being murdered on national television. 

 

"Dean, stop moving." Sam grumbled from beside him. 

 

"Sorry." Dean forced himself to stand still and stare up at the stage. He was considerably taller than most of the other teenagers, so even though he and Sam were near the back of the roped off area for potential tributes, he had a perfect view. 

 

He was growing uncomfortably sweaty, probably from the combination of anxiety and heat. Sam dealt with his fear in a more introverted way--instead of screaming about the Capitol and getting physical like Dean, he stayed silent, only occasionally mentioning how terrified he really was. 

 

Waiting for the escort to show up was a nightmare. They were already at least twenty minutes late, and Dean just wanted to get the Reaping over with. As long as neither he nor Sam was chosen, Dean could care less. It had taken years of suppressing his instinctive revulsion, but in the end, the need to survive conquered all morals. He could force himself not to worry about the children dying on his television set. Sammy was safe beside him, and that was all that really mattered. 

 

"I wonder what the arena is going to be like." Dean said absentmindedly, still watching the empty stage. 

 

"It doesn't matter." Sam was barely audible over the noise of the impatient crowd. 

 

Finally the new District 11 escort arrived. Dean wasn't sure why he'd expected a normal person. The Capitol always produced some psychopath, and this year they'd sent a blue-haired woman who was covered in eye tattoos. It was creepy to say the least. 

 

He scowled and glanced down at Sam. He was still pretty short for his age, and his view probably consisted of people's lower backs. Hopefully he'd grow one day. Maybe he'd even be taller than Dean, but he decided that wasn't very likely. 

 

"Welcome to the Reaping for the sixty-third annual Hunger Games!" The woman's voice sounded electronic. "I'm your new escort, Coralia!" 

 

"What's wrong with her voice?" Sam nudged Dean's side. 

 

"Some Capitol voice mod." Dean mumbled. 

 

"Well, let's get on with the show!" She wore a tight, electric blue dress that matched her hair. She waddled over to the girl's glass ball, barely able to move. Dean wondered how she didn't fall flat on her face. 

 

She reached into the ball and grabbed the first slip of paper that her hand touched. "Our female tribute is Meg Masters!" 

 

Dean fought the instinct to reach for Sam and run. Every year he promised himself that he wouldn't stick around. He promised that he would escape, to save Sammy and himself from the hell he knew they could meet if they stayed. 

 

A few cries erupted from the crowd, but a moment later, a dark-haired girl walked on stage. Coralia created a strange half-walk half-hop that got her to the boys' ball. Dean crossed his fingers as sweat began to drip down his ruddy cheeks. Please, please, anyone but Sammy or I. Anyone else. 

 

There was a sickeningly long pause before the name was read. When he finally heard it, Dean was numb. His ears were ringing, the name rattling around in his head like a broken record player. Sam Winchester. 

 

Sam? Not his Sam Winchester, right? Couldn't there be another teenager with the same name? "Sammy?" Dean glanced down in horror at his little brother. "Not you." 

 

Sam's lips were quivering. "D-Dean--" 

 

"Sam, please join me on stage!" Coralia cooed into her microphone. 

 

Dean made a split second decision. He put an arm in front of Sam, preventing him from edging any closer to the stage. There was nowhere to run, nowhere he could go. There were no other options, and Dean could feel his heart sink to his stomach as he spoke the disgusting words. "I volunteer!" 

 

Dean gave his attempt at a reassuring smile to Sammy, who looked even more fearful than he had when he had first been selected as tribute. His eyes were wide with disbelief as to say, 'why?'. 

 

"It's okay Sammy. It's going to be okay." Though he was saying this to Sammy, it was more for his own benefit. He had to stay strong, and if this was how he had to do it, then so be it. 

 

His heart was thumping against his ribcage as he stepped out from the ropped off areas into the walkway. The crowd was completely silent save for the muffled sobbing of what sounded like his mother. Dean couldn't stand to look at her. All he wanted to do was hold her in his arms and tell her that he would be okay, but he couldn't lie. What were the chances of him being okay at this point? Next to none. 

 

"Well what are you waiting for?" Coralia all but shouted, a bit too cheerfully for his liking. She seemed so unaware of the depth of her actions, sending them off to die like it was nothing. Like pigs to the slaughter.

 

 "Come on up here!" she waved her hand at Dean, beckoning him to the stage. He took his sweet time of course however. His face was passive and solemn, trying not to convey his current emotions. He needed to be strong at this point, strong for Sammy. 

 

"What is your name young man? Our District 11 volunteer!" Coralia's electric blue contact lenses were piercing into his own. They matched her hair and dress respectfully. This was all those of the Capitol had to worry about. What dress went with what wig. What party would they be attending that night. They had no concept of worry, fear or loss. They had the pleasure of being free from the gripping fear every day of their lives that their son or daughter might be sent off to die. Or having to work to the point of passing out each day in order to place a loaf of bread on the table. It made Dean want to vomit all over their cashmere carpet. 

 

"My name is Dean Winchester." He said simply, short and to the point. He wasn't going to grace Coralia with any other sort of response. There was nothing else to say. What else could he say?

 

"So Dean, your last name is Winchester so you must be the older brother of little Sammy over there. A brother fighting for a brother, how sweet!" She laughed, he electronic sounding voice piercing the ears of the entire crowd. 

 

"Well there you have it folks, our District Eleven tributes! Dean Winchester and Meg Masters! Let's give them a round of applause." Coralia looked at the crowd expecting, but there was not a sound. Only faces of mourning and sorrow. 

 

It all passed by in a blur after that. Two peacekeepers came and led Dean and Meg by the arm into a small room to the back of the stage. To where they sat, waiting on the chance to say goodbye to their families.

 

"Dean!" Sammy shouted as he burst through the door and quickly wrapped his arms around his older brother. His exterior from just a few minutes ago had completely vanished. Dean could feel his tears soaking through the material of his shirt. 

 

"It's okay Sammy, I'll be okay." He stroked his younger brother's hair and pulled him closer to his body. For that moment, it actually was okay. 

 

"Promise me you'll win Dean? Please just promise me." Sam pleaded as he pulled his face away from his brother's chest. "Just come back to us Dean."

Dean felt tears welling up in his eyes as he stared at Sam's hysteric expression, "I'll try Sammy. I'll try my best." 

 

It looked as though his parents had nothing to say. His mother was buried in his father's chest, sobbing her heart out. 

 

It was then, that the same two peacekeepers from before opened the door a bit too forcefully and began to push his family out of the room, "Time's up."

Dean could only watch as they were taken away from him before his eyes. He had to watch as Sam began screaming at them not to take his brother away, as the door was then promptly slammed in his face. 

Dean was on autopilot. He shut down his emotions and focused only on the present. There would be time to cry for his family later--after he got through his moment of strength. Maybe as he was lying on the ground in the arena, staring up at a hopefully starry sky, waiting for someone to plunge a knife through his stomach. Dean shook his head, trying to clear his mind of death. He could win, couldn't he? He was strong, he could be resourceful. At the very least, there would be a little boy back in District 11 who desperately needed his big brother. That was all the motivation Dean needed.

 

Coralia practically danced around Dean and Meg, her hands fluttering helplessly. "So sweet, so sweet! I can't believe how lucky I am! This is just my first year, as you two know." She winked. "And it looks like I'm off to a wonderful start! Not only do I have two handsome tributes, there's even some heartbreak as Dean steps in for his baby brother! They're going to gobble this up. I might even be promoted!" She beamed and drew Dean and Meg into a perfume-y hug.

 

Dean's upper lip curled in disgust, but he didn't pull away. The peacekeepers were still watching him, their guns casually pointed in his direction. It wouldn't be the best time to rebel. He didn't need to die for pride. 

 

Meg huffed indignantly and drawled, "You can take your slutty hands off of me. You're a little touchy for my tastes." She wore a slight smile, the right side of her mouth turned up defiantly. 

 

Coralia pulled away, eyes wide and mouth open in shock. She put a hand over her heart and glanced over at Dean. "Is that any way to treat your escort, Meg? I want one of you to win. I would like to do my very best to help you win. It would be good for both of us, so you at least need to be nice to me." She pursed her lips and nodded to the peacekeepers. "We can go to the train now." 

 

An underground passageway transported them to the train station. Dean had never seen a train outside of the television, and for a moment, he forgot his anger. It was simply amazing. It was a massive machine, beautifully furnished on the inside. He would have given anything to learn how it worked, and made a mental note to be extra polite to the driver. 

 

"We'll have lunch soon." Coralia had lost her earlier enthusiasm. She stayed closer to Dean, maybe clinging to some senseless hope that he would shield her from Meg's fury. She was, of course, sadly mistaken. 

 

As it turned out, Meg was just as interested in the mechanics of the train as Dean was. Neither of them wanted to watch the train pull out of the station, because at least one of them was never going to see District 11 again. 

 

"Hey, pudgy boy," Meg cooed, catching the attention of a slightly overweight man dressed as a waiter. He turned, a little caught off guard by the nickname. "Yeah, tell us who drives this thing." 

 

Pudgy boy frowned and shrugged. "I don't speak with the conductor." 

 

"Where is he?" Dean piped in. 

 

"Keep following the train to the very front. He's there. But I don't believe you'll be allowed to speak with him. Maybe later in the trip, but we're not up to full speed yet, and he wouldn't want any interruptions." 

 

Dean and Meg were not deterred by pudgy boy's warning. Coralia had abandoned them, claiming that her eyeliner was smudged and she wanted to make sure that wouldn't be shown on television. "Guess they'll have us up on the big screen tonight." Meg licked her lips anxiously. "Can't wait to see the other poor bastards I'll have to kill." 

 

Dean's throat felt uncomfortably dry. He didn't dislike Meg, but he certainly didn't want to be allies. She was almost terrifying. Dean did an exceptional job of hiding his feelings, but the panic in his voice as he volunteered for Sam had probably betrayed his real fear of the Games. Meg seemed almost thankful to have been chosen. That small, half-smile hadn't left her face, and Dean began to tune her out as she kept droning on about the others she'd kill and her skills. When they got into the arena, she was going to be the first one Dean killed. 

 

They were relieved to find that the conductor didn't entirely mind their intrusion. He invited them into the control room and showed them what a few buttons did. He let them each blow the train whistle, which while childish, was still sort of fun to Dean. They didn't spend more than ten minutes listening to him explain the basics of trains, but it was the only good thing that had happened to Dean that day. Machines had always interested him, and learning about how trains were fueled as a nice way to numb himself. 

 

Coralia rounded them up for lunch later on. Meg had talked a bit about her family life, but Dean had remained almost completely silent. There was no point in subjecting himself to the torture of family memories. 

 

Lunch wasn't really lunch; at least, not by Dean's standards. Lunch implied a small, sometimes skipped meal that would just barely hold you over until dinner. Your stomach would still be growling at the end of the meal, but you should be thankful you got food at all. The "lunch" that Coralia offered was a feast of so much food that Dean couldn't even begin to imagine how much money it had cost. Lobster, fancy soups, breads, and all kinds of strange but delicious foods he'd never seen before were served. They must have come from all across the country, and somehow, they had ended up as some of the near-last meals of at least one sorry District 11 tribute.

 

Dean barely listened as Coralia spoke. She introduced them to their mentor--some young blonde named Ruby. He vaguely remembered her from an earlier Games, but he was far too distracted by the food to care. Meg seemed equally enthralled. They were so absorbed in eating that eventually Coralia gave up on trying to speak to either of them.

 

Once Dean was so full he practically felt like puking, Coralia finally spoke up again. "So, our strategy." She cleared her throat. "Are either of you good with any particular weapons?" 

 

"Knives." Meg said, her mouth full of food. Coralia cringed and averted her eyes from Meg's overflowing mouthful of bread. She shook her head and dabbed at her own lips with her napkins.

 

"Meg, please, you must be polite. You won't win any sponsors by being brutish before the Games. The sponsors want to see you looking young and sweet before the Games begin." 

 

Meg just rolled her eyes, not even dignifying Coralia with an answer. Dean clenched his fists, pushing down his fury. Stupid Capitol escort. Just another piece of ignorant scum. 

 

"And Dean? What about you? Are you competent with any weapons?" Coralia looked to him expectantly, clearly hoping that he'd set some sort of example for Meg. She swallowed her mouthful of food and flashed Dean a brilliant smile. It should have been cute, but it was still horrifying. He could almost picture Meg ripping out his flesh. 

 

Dean simply replied, "I can fight."