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

-24-

I help him sit down, lean back against a tree.  Every movement looks like it's hurting him.  He hikes his knee up, grabs at his left calf where the fabric of his pants is torn and the angry fang marks reside in his skin.  Small droplets of crimson blood pool out of them.  It's already starting to swell.

I can't breathe, can barely think straight.  My hands tremble as I kneel beside him and move the tattered fabric out of the way.  What do I do?  There wasn't a station about this during training.  There wasn't a station about first aid, and in retrospect, that seems like a big mistake on the Capitol's part.  What am I supposed to do?

Cas clutches my shoulder, his fingers digging into my skin.  His breathing has calmed, but only slightly, and he still looks just as petrified as before.  I have to be composed and reassuring for him.  I don't know how, but somehow, I have to.

"Did you see what bit you?"  I ask.  My voice is so out of control that it doesn't even sound like me.  Not very composed, am I?

Cas shakes his head, winces as he tries to move his left leg again.  "No,"  he says.  "I know it was a snake, but I didn't see what it looked like."

It's a fruitless task to try to swallow the lump in my dry throat.  I rest my hand on his knee, hoping it gives him at least a shred of comfort.  "How much does it hurt?"

A weak chuckle slips past his lips.  "A lot,"  he says, "but not as bad as before.  I think it's already starting to go away.  Maybe it'll just take some time."

I sincerely hope that that's the case, that this was just a random incident with a random snake, and the bite isn't as serious as it looks like.  The skin around the fang marks is red and blotchy.  The blood isn't streaming out in copious amounts, thankfully, but it still looks painful.  But, if Cas said the pain is already beginning to fade, then maybe—

"Dean?"

His voice sounds so small as I glance up to meet his wide bright blue eyes.  They're gleaming with fear, shining in the faint rays of moonlight peeking through the canopy.  "You don't think it was venomous, do you?"

It's like I've been punched in the gut.  All the air is knocked out of my burning lungs.  "Is there a way to tell?"

My worst suspicion is confirmed when Cas shakes his head again.  "Not until the symptoms kick in."

This is a nightmare.  We've living in a nightmare.  What if the snake was venomous?  We won't know until some horrible, life-threatening symptom makes an appearance?  That's far from okay.  I want to help him now.  I can't bear the thought of waiting around for him to contract a fever, throw up his insides, spit up froth like that boy from District 12.  This is my worst nightmare.  I was supposed to keep him safe, and apparently I couldn't even do that right.  Now he has fang marks in his leg from a snake that may or may not be lethally venomous, all because I turned my back on him for ten seconds.  What am I supposed to do?

I feel tears stinging in my eyes.  I try to blink them back, draw an unsteady breath to keep them at bay.  "We should've just stayed in the tree and taken our chances,"  I say.  My voice threatens to crack with every word I speak.

"What, and risk a run-in with the Careers?"  Cas says.  "It was right to leave, Dean.  This isn't your fault."

"Yeah, but what do we do if that snake was venomous?"  My question comes out harsher than I mean it to.  I'm just so terrified of what could happen that I can't even think properly.

The silence that follows is pure agony.  Cas doesn't answer.  He tries his hardest to keep his gaze locked with mine, but his composure is starting to break, as is my own.  He gulps, drops his fraught stare to his knees, and that alone is enough of an answer for me.  I don't think there's anything we can do if the snake was venomous.  We don't have any medicine, and I'm sure the Cornucopia has been completely ransacked by now.  We have nothing.  Nothing that can reverse the effects of something like that.