Promises of a Sacrificial Lamb |Destiel x The Hunger Games|

-17-

I'm startled awake when someone prods my arm.  My heart leaps to my throat as my eyes snap open, but instead of finding another tribute waiting to kill me, I see Crowley's solemn face.  Meg stands a few feet behind him, arms crossed and lips pursed.  My initial alarm slowly fades into terror when I realize why they must be here.

"Time to go,"  Crowley says quietly, sympathy glinting in his dark eyes.

The sun is just barely beginning to peek over the horizon.  Soft gold and orange hues bleed into the deep indigo sky.  A few lone stars still twinkle up above the cityscape as the moon dwindles to make room for daylight.  It looks like a beautifully serene morning for everyone except us.

My veins are already flooded with pure adrenaline, and I've only just woken up.  Much to my relief, though, I do feel decently rested.  I could be better, but I could be a lot worse.  At this rate, I'll take whatever I can get.

I draw an unsteady breath in a futile attempt to calm my nerves.  Then I notice the weight on my shoulder.  I glance over and see that Cas has completely nestled up against me, his head resting on my shoulder and his hand still gently grabbing my arm.  He's so close that I can feel the warmth radiating off him, can feel his light exhales on my neck, and it makes my skin prickle with goosebumps.  He must have moved closer sometime during the night.

I don't want to wake him.  He finally looks at peace.  I know that the second I rouse him from his sleep, he'll see our stylists and remember what must be done today.  I want to stay here, stall forever, never even go to the arena, but I know that's impossible.  Despite how much they seem to like us, Crowley and Meg have to take us to our Launch Rooms.  It's their job.

I take one last look at the reposeful expression on Cas' face, then force myself to stir him.  "Cas,"  I say, lightly shaking his arm.  "It's time.  We have to go."

For the few fleeting moments after he opens his tired bright blue eyes, the only thing he sees is me lying next to him.  He doesn't even have a chance to form a smile before the sight of our stylists catches his attention, and all the blood drains from his face.  At least he seemed happy, even if it was for just a split second.

As Crowley and Meg give us both a simple jacket to slip on over our pajamas, saying we'll get dressed in our proper attire in the catacombs beneath the arena, I can't help but long for the comforting weight of Cas' head on my shoulder.  Even though he's still in the room with me, his entire absence leaves a gaping hole in my chest.  I can only imagine it has something to do with the paralyzing fear of what could happen in the next few hours.

No one speaks as we shuffle through our dim and silent apartment for the final time and pile into the elevator.  The tension in the atmosphere is so dense that I can hardly breathe.  Meg presses the button that takes us down to the bottom level of the Training Center, where the hovercraft will be waiting to transport us to certain doom.

The chill from the night still hangs in the air and clings to my skin.  More gorgeous colors of dawn begin to seep into the sky—I try to take in as much of the sight as I can while I still have the opportunity—as we approach the landed hovercraft.  A sleek ladder protrudes from its belly.  Crowley climbs up and into the massive machine first.  Meg follows suit.  I'm just placing my hands on the cold steel to join them when I hear a terrified whimper from behind me.

Cas looks like he's on the verge of bursting into tears, emptying the contents of his stomach, passing out on the concrete, or all of the above, in that order.  He's frozen in place, wide eyes frantically flicking between the ladder and me.  I know it probably won't do much good in the situation we're in, but before I climb into the hovercraft, I pull his trembling body into my arms.  He buries his face in my shoulder instantly and curls his fingers around my jacket.  I cradle his head, listen to the panicked beating of his heart, try to savor every last second of this embrace.