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

-4-

I can't help but wonder why he's telling me all this.  I feel terrible about his family's loss—I can't even imagine what it must've been like for him as a child—but if there's some hidden message in his words, I'm struggling to find it.

"Look, I know this is a lot to ask, and you don't have to do it if you don't want to, but..."  Gabriel pauses to swallow, the color draining from his face and his hands beginning to shake at his sides.  "I already lost one brother to the Games.  I don't wanna lose another."

I'm not entirely sure why, but I reach out and pull him into my arms.  Maybe it's because I'm a brother too, and I would do anything to keep Sam safe, hence why I'm standing in this room.  I don't know what it's like to have already lost one, thankfully, but I can't say the same for Gabriel.  How awful for their family, to have one person reaped and then another a few years later.  I can't imagine what they're going through right now.  The thought of it alone is enough to add to the aching in my heart, the stiffness in my tense muscles.

It's that exact thought, though, that makes me realize why Gabriel Novak, the little brother of my fellow tribute Castiel, is in this room with me, his own arms wrapped around me and crushing my bones with his deathlike grip.  He wants me to protect Castiel, to keep him alive, to bring him home safe and sound, unlike their older brother years ago.

Without even hesitating, I promise him I'll get his sibling home safely.  I don't want him to experience another traumatizing loss like that.  Not ever again.

Somehow, as Gabriel Novak is escorted out of the room and I'm left alone for the third time, I'm more confident in my abilities to survive, to outsmart the Games.  Maybe it's because of my promise to Sam and my parents, my promise that I'll try to win and come back.  Maybe it's because of the idea that I'll get to see Charlie again and listen to her snarky but incredibly lighthearted jokes.  Maybe it's because of little Gabriel, begging me to keep his brother safe so he doesn't have to lose another to the horrible Games.  Whatever it is, it's fueling my determination, and I don't want it to stop.

We may be simple farm boys from District 9, but there has to be a way for Castiel and me to make it out of the arena alive.  We'll just have to find it before someone else does.

*  *  *  *  *

The train station, as I expected, is swarming with cameras trying to get a glimpse of the tributes from District 9 before we board the sleek train and speed away toward the waiting Capitol.  Much to my relief, my face is not red or blotchy or stained with tears, so no one will get the impression that I'm afraid of what's to come.  On the other hand, it's evident that Castiel has been crying.  His bright blue eyes are still brimming with tears as Rowena instructs us to stand in the doorway of the train for a few moments, just to give the cameras an extra minute to broadcast our images to the people of Panem.  He's not shaking like before, just silently letting the tears stream down his flushed cheeks.

I wonder if he's thinking about this same exact thing happening to his older brother years prior.  The thought of it makes me ill, and it only solidifies my promise to Gabriel, and myself, for that matter.

The boy from the fields is coming home if it's the last thing I do.

Finally, we're released from the spotlight and allowed to board the train.  The door slides closed behind us, effortlessly clicking into place, and seals us in blissful silence.  There's no more chatter, no more cameras, just the three of us and a beautifully elegant train that shoots out of the station like a bullet.  I can definitely tell this belongs to the Capitol.  It's fancier than the room in the Justice Building.

Despite my disdain and hatred for the people of the Capitol, I can't deny that their tools and materials are extremely breathtaking.  I feel like I'm too poor and dirty to even be looking at the diner car we're standing in.