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

-11-

"And with a boy from District One,"  Bobby adds with a raised eyebrow.  Great, what doesn't he know about the whole ordeal?

"He was from District One?!"

"Guys,"  I intervene, desperate to stop this train from derailing any further.  "It's not a big deal.  The guards separated us before anything really happened.  It's fine."

Rowena opens her mouth to object, but Bobby raises his hand to tell her to drop it.  I'm surprised.  I thought for sure he'd be scolding me, too, especially considering the reproachful tone in his voice, but maybe not.  Maybe he doesn't mind as much as his attitude is portraying.

"So did you find anything else you're good at other than making dangerous enemies?"  he asks after a beat, his stare seeming to pierce right through me.

I'm losing the energy to speak as the paralyzing guilt begins to consume me yet again, and Cas seems to notice.  He takes a deep breath and answers the question for me.  "Not really.  Nothing too special."

"Well, you'd better get cracking,"  Bobby says.  "In a couple of days, you'll have your private sessions with the Gamemakers.  That's where they'll give you a score based on the skill you present to them.  I'm sure you probably know by now, but better scores mean more sponsors."

The two of us nod without a word.  We know how the private sessions and scoring system work after years of being subjected to watch the Hunger Games on TV.  That doesn't make it any easier to figure out what we're going to do about it.

"And I don't mean to scare you boys, either,"  Bobby goes on, "but the less sponsors you have, the less likely you are to survive, especially now that the Careers have your scent.  They're deadly kids.  They won't hesitate to kill on sight."

My blood runs ice cold.  Next to me, the color drains from Cas' face.  He's trying his hardest to hide it, but his lip is starting to quiver.  I know what that means.

"Bobby, don't say things like that!"  Rowena hisses before I have a chance to speak.  "You're supposed to mentor them, not scare them half to death!"

"I'm just stating the facts,"  Bobby says.  "Would you rather have me sugarcoat it?  This isn't a magical realm where there's always a happy ending.  This is about life and death.  I'm just telling it like it is."

All conversation skids to an abrupt halt when the sound of a chair scraping across the floor echoes in the air, and Cas rises to his feet.  His expression is vacant, but in the light of the chandelier, I see that his eyes are brimming with tears.

"I'm not very hungry,"  is all he murmurs before he disappears down the hallway and into his room.  The closing of his door makes my heart ache.

If looks could kill, Bobby would be dead four times over.  I glare at him.  Rowena glares at him.  Even Crowley and Meg glare at him, because it's obvious Cas didn't just get full out of nowhere.  He barely touched his food.  The anger I felt earlier is beginning to trickle back into my veins, and it's making my hands shake.

"You don't have to sugarcoat everything, Bobby,"  I snap as I stand, "but it wouldn't kill you to be a little more sympathetic from time to time."

No one objects as I leave the table and venture down the hall toward Cas' closed door.

I don't hear anything coming from the inside of his room.  I want to go in and check on him, to make sure he's okay, but would that be stepping over a boundary?  He might want to be alone.  It's his room, and he shut the door.  He looked distraught before he left, though, and I don't want him to be alone if he's dealing with something like that.  It doesn't hurt to try.