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

-26-

Thunder rumbles overhead.  Rain gently drums against the rocks above our hollow, a rhythm so soothingly soporific that it's threatening to make my eyelids grow heavy.  I'm not sure if the rain is acidic this time, or if the Gamemakers deemed it boring and uninteresting and added some other twisted feature to the arena, but it doesn't matter.  We're protected here in the hollow, regardless if the rain is lethal or not.  Now we're free to think of it as relaxing.

I merely watch, leaning back against the tree trunk, as Cas uncaps a bottle of painkillers and pours a few pills into his hand.  They're dark purple, looking like something that probably shouldn't go in a human body, but it's Capitol medicine.  If how miraculously that little syringe of antivenom worked is anything to go on, these painkillers might just end up getting rid of my agony overnight.  One can hope, anyway.

Cas returns to my side with the few pills and our water bottle.  I can't stop my heartbeat from quickening when he meets my eyes and tips the pills into my good hand.  "Thanks,"  I tell him, and I wash the dark purple tablets down with a gulp of water.  Unfortunately, the pain doesn't dissipate in an instant.

A clap of thunder booms through the darkening sky, rattles the ground beneath us, as Cas moves to sit cross-legged in front of me.  Everything feels so much different now.  It's like his presence is stronger, more magnetic, and the simple act of him sitting across from me is enough to make my adrenaline run rampant.  I can't meet his gaze without losing my breath.  It just makes me think of his lips, how much I want to kiss them, how closely I want to hold him.  Part of me even starts to forget we're in the arena at all.

I don't know what he's doing to me, but I never want it to end.

"I see you brought back some weapons, too,"  Cas remarks, his voice soft, a faint trace of a smile showing on his face.

I spare a glance at the sword lying on the ground, the knife still resting in the opened trunk.  "They were some of the only ones left,"  I say.  "I figured it might be good to have them, just in case we need them.  Don't think I'll be going back there any time soon."

I meant for my comment to be lighthearted, but Cas doesn't seem to think so.  A worried glimmer shines in his eyes as he looks down at my bandaged hand.  The gauze is dark red with old blood.  I've tried not to pay too much attention to it, despite how much it hurts.  The memory of what happened to it is still horrifically fresh in my mind.

"Do you want to tell me what happened?"  Cas asks.  I almost miss his words over the rhythmic thrumming of the rain.

I haven't uttered a single thing about my little escapade at the Cornucopia.  I'm not sure if I'll be able to without breaking down or bursting into tears.  The mere thought of it all makes shivers run down my spine, paralyzes me with unbridled dread.  It's too soon, too recent, too horrible to share right now.  Maybe someday I'll be able to discuss it, but not now.  Not so soon after I was beaten within an inch of my life.  Surely Cas will understand, right?

I hope he doesn't notice the shudder in my breath as I struggle to inhale.  "I just ran into some trouble."

Understatement of the century.

Cas knows it, too.  "Looks like it was a lot more than just a little bit of trouble,"  he says, but his tone has no bite to it.  He reaches out to gently touch the skin beneath the cuts on my face, still crusted with dried blood but thankfully no longer bleeding.  Goosebumps prickle my arms when his fingertips graze my cheek.  "You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to.  Just remember that I'm always willing to listen if you need to get something off your chest."

I catch his hand as it drifts down from my face and squeeze it tightly, thanking him without words, showing him how much I appreciate his understanding and compassion.  And I really do.  I don't know where I'd be without his overwhelming kindness lifting me up whenever I'm down.  I think he gets the message, too, because a warm smile tugs at his lips and flickers in his bright blue eyes.  He squeezes my hand back.