A Supernatural Hunger Games (Supernatural/Hunger Games Fan Fiction)

Chapter 1

Dean slowly sat up and stretched, careful not to disturb the sleeping form next to him. Normally he would be gleeful to give his little brother, Sammy, a hard time about huddling in the so close, but today was different. Dean quietly slipped on soft leather boots and an old jacket that had shrunk too much for his father to wear, and placed a small round of goat cheese into its pocket; a present from Sam on reaping day.  Before slipping out of the door Dean glanced back at his fathers sleeping form, peaceful and still, unlike his waking hours. A scrunched brown head peeked around the bed, eyes narrowing into slits as they focused on Dean. Dean returned the stare and sighed, not quite able to bring himself to regret the decision to keep the cat, Meg,  as Sam liked to call her. She turned out to be worth her weight in gold; she was a good mouser and seemed to distract Sam from the hell that was their life. Sighing again, Dean headed out of the house and down the familiar dirt road. No hungry children and coal smudged miners were to be seen in the District today. Everyone chose to sleep in on a day like this, that is, if they could sleep at all. The shutters on the houses were closed tight, and not even the birds sung. Dean could feel the tension in the air.

He stopped in front of a rusted fence, listening for a hum of electrical charge, just as an extra precaution, but there’s none. The Capitol ordered it to be charged twenty-four hours a day to keep out the dangers of the forest, and to keep in the people of District 12, but no one followed that rule. It was rarely charged. Dean slipped under the fence and into the lush green woods. The change in Dean was almost immediate as he picked his way through the undergrowth towards a hollowed out log. His shoulders relaxed as all the stress he usually carried floated away, and the hard lines left his face. After grabbing his dads old gun from within the log, Dean headed deeper into the woods, winding his way purposefully through the brush.

As he trudged through the thicket, Dean warily glanced over his shoulder, always worried that he had been seen or heard sneaking into the woods. As usual, there was no one there. A flash of brown caught his eye, and his head whipped around to find a deer silently leaping through the trees. A smile grew on his face as he loaded his gun, and aimed for the deer’s head.

“Hey, Winchester!” a loud voice yelled from behind him, spooking the deer. Dean’s eyes followed the deer as it darted away, until it was hidden from view.

“Son of a bitch,” he murmured. He turned around to find a tan face staring back at him. “Dammit, Lisa!”

She replied with a simple smile. “What were you going to do with that once you killed it, eh, Winchester?” she asked him.  

“I was going to sell it to a peacekeeper or something!” he said, obviously frustrated.

“Not on a day like this,” she shook her head. “Anyway, look what I shot!” She held up a loaf of bread with an arrow in it, and Dean couldn’t help but chuckle. He took the bread from her, and let the smell slowly waft up to his nostrils. The heat radiating from the bread warmed his cold hands.

“What’d you have to trade to get it?” Fresh bread like that was rare for them, and fairly pricey. Only for special occasions.

“Just a squirrel,” she shrugged. He reached his hand into his pocket, pulling out the cheese from Sam’s goat.

“Sammy gave us a little treat too,” he said. Her expression brightened.

“Thank you, Sam. We have a real feast this morning!” Dean led her through the woods and to a small meadow, where they sat down to eat their breakfast.

“Oh, I almost forgot!” she exclaimed, turning to Dean. “Happy Hunger Games!”

“And may the odds be ever in your favour,” he said, finishing her sentence. They smiled at each other, though there was sadness behind their eyes. Lisa picked a berry off a nearby bush and popped it into her mouth. Dean took out a knife, and began to slice the bread. He handed her a piece, and watched as her teeth sink into it’s soft pastry. Her dark hair blew in the soft breeze, and her brown eyes studied his face carefully. For a moment there was nervous silence, as both think about the day ahead of them.