Chapter Sixteen: To What End

The first thing I noticed was that I was cold. I shivered, lying on my back against something smooth and chilly. The ground? Was I dead? Was I dying?

The second thing I noticed was that I didn't feel any pain. The wound in my stomach, that had moments ago been searing with agony, my lifeblood spilling out in a hot gush, barely even twinged now.

Curious to see what the afterlife looked like- if it was anything like Twelve- I slowly opened my eyes and found myself staring up at a stark white sky.

Frowning in confusion, I sat up, propping myself up on my elbows and realized that I was not on the ground or dead, for that matter. I gazed around at the long, white room I was in, rows of beds like the one I was in, stretching out on either side of me.

I glanced down and saw that I was wearing a white, short-sleeved shirt and, pulling the blanket down, that I also had white trousers on, both garments made of soft cloth.

I yanked up the shirt to expose my belly and saw only a thin pink line where a weeping gash had been previously.

The sound of approaching footsteps startled me and I looked up, seeing a woman wearing a long white coat, walking towards me.

"Where am I?" I asked, my voice scratchy. I was clearly not still in the Arena and wanted to know where I had been taken.

"The Medical Floor of the Training Center," the woman answered, speaking as though she had better things to do then explain my situation to me.

"The Training Center?" I muttered, "Then I'm in the Capitol?"

"Yes," the woman said, "You were taken here by a helicopter from the Arena."

I nodded, feeling numb.

"Where's-" I began to ask after my brother, knowing that he'd be worried about me when I suddenly remembered what had happened in the last few moments before I passed out.

"Sam," I breathed, my heart clenching like a fist in my chest, "Sammy…"

My brother was gone, dead, dragged into the woods by an invisible growling monster.

I wrapped my arms around my middle, tears streaming down my face as I tried to catch my breath.

This couldn't be happening, this wasn't what was supposed to happen! I didn't want to win! I didn't want to be the Victor!

I had failed. I had failed my brother and myself. I had promised Sammy that I would make sure he got home safe and I had broken that promise.

"You're expected upstairs," the woman interrupted, "Your Mentor and Capitol escort are waiting for you."

I looked up and swallowed, tasting salt and nodded. I didn't want to move but I didn't want to stay under this woman's indifferent scrutiny.

I carefully slid off the bed and looked questioningly at the woman- I had no idea where to go- and she pointed me in the right direction with one pale finger.

I walked slowly, dejectedly towards the exit, going over my last moments with Sam over and over, trying to figure out if there was anything I could have done differently that could have saved him.

The door to the Medical Floor slammed shut behind me and I looked up, seeing familiar elevator doors at the end of the hallway.

I trudged forward, weighted down by grief. I wanted this all to be a bad dream, I wanted to wake up but I knew I wouldn't because this was no nightmare; this was real.

I pressed the button to summon the elevator, staring at the shiny outer doors sullenly. I didn't know how I was going to return to District Twelve now. Alone.

The elevator's doors opened and I stepped inside the lift, taking a deep breath before pressing the button that would send the lift upwards.

I leaned against the side of the elevator, having no strength to stand straight. I closed my eyes and waited as the lift climbed higher and higher towards the rooms reserved for Tributes from District Twelve.

A shrill female voice called my name as the doors opened and I saw Sugar Zest and Bobby Singer standing in the hallway to the apartment, waiting for me.

I stepped out of the elevator and was swept into the Capitol escort's arms. Sugar hugged me as though I was her own son, one manicured hand against my head as she cooed.

"Alright," Bobby grumbled, "Come off it, before you smother the poor lad."

Sugar released me, holding me out at arm's length. She didn't look like her flamboyant, chirpy self today. Instead of bright, cheerful colours she wore a dress made of grey lace, black shoes with high heels, even her makeup was subdued in tones of charcoal and ash.

"You look a mess," she appraised me, "Why don't you get some rest and we'll go back to Twelve in the morning?"

I shook my head, "No, I don't want to stay here. Can we leave today? Now."

The Capitol escort nodded, patting my shoulder with one hand, "Of course."

Sugar turned and began walking briskly back towards the apartment purposefully. Bobby kept pace with me as I dragged my feet.

"This wasn't supposed to happen," I whispered, pain welling up anew within me.

Bobby nodded, "I know, Son."

"Sam was supposed to be here," I continued, "Not me. He was just a kid! Only twelve years old. And now he's dead."

The older Victor said nothing, just listened quietly because there was really nothing he could say to make it better. I appreciated his silence; I was certain to receive many heartfelt condolences once I was back in my home district.

Sugar met us at the door; "The train will be ready for us in thirty minutes. For now why don't you rest, have something to eat? You look half-starved."

I shrugged- the last thing on my mind was food- but followed her to the table and sat down.

I didn't react as the Avox girl approached and Sugar told her to pour me a mug of hot cocoa.

I automatically reached out for a tray of cookies sitting on the table and dumped all of them onto my plate, a couple slipping off and plunking into my cocoa mug.

Without even looking up I knew Sugar and Bobby were staring at me, I ignored them though, I didn't want to have to see the concern and sympathy on their faces.

"I'm sure everyone will be excited to see you when we arrive in Twelve," the Capitol escort said, "There hasn't been a Victor from that Districts since… well, since Robert here won."

I stared at the cookies on my plate, thinking about my brother.

What was I supposed to do now? Sammy was gone. Everything in my life had revolved around him; he was the reason I got up in the morning. Now, without him, I felt lost.

I didn't notice tears were streaming down my cheeks until Sugar was patting my face with a serviette. I grabbed her wrist and pushed her hand away. I didn't want her to try and make me feel better, I didn't want her to mother me, I just wanted to wallow in my grief.

The woman sat back down in her seat, sniffing as though she were trying to hold back her own tears.

"Sammy," I whispered, my voice cracking, and closed my eyes, trying to picture him in my head, happy and alive but all that came to mind instead was a vision of him sitting slumped on the dry grass of the Arena, blood soaking through the side of his black shirt, his face grey.

SPN

Sam startled awake, gasping in shock.

The boy blinked confusedly, staring up at the blue-tinged lights shining coldly down on him.

Where was he?

Was he still in the Arena?

Where was Dean?

Sam's hand slid down his side, searching for the awful wound Glamour's sword had inflicted and his eyes widened in surprise to feel a faint, raised line of scar tissue where once the gash had been.

The twelve-year old sat up and stared at his surroundings. He was in a room that was bare but for the stainless steel table he was on, a white blanket pooling around his waist. The walls and floor were covered in grey tile, not unlike the ones in the Remake Center; though Sam had a feeling he wasn't about to see his prep team anytime soon.

Sam shivered suddenly. He didn't have a shirt on and goose bumps crept across his bare skin. Glancing down and lifting the blanket Sam's eyes widened when he, saw that he was completely naked.

Where was he?

Where were his clothes?

"H-Hello?" Sam called, his voice small in the large room.

"Dean?" Sam called, voice louder this time and smiled at the sound of approaching footsteps.

It wasn't his brother, however, who answered his call. It was Azazel King, head Gamemaker.

Sam gripped the edge of the blanket, pulling it up and inched back from the man.

The Gamemaker was wearing all black, the only colour coming from his yellow eyes, which were staring right at Sam.

"Sam Winchester," the man said, smiling, "I've waited a long time to meet you."

"Where am I? What do you want with me? Where's Dean?" the twelve-year old asked in quick succession, his heart beating nervously in his narrow chest.

"You are in the Capitol's public Medical Center," Azazel told him openly, "I wanted the chance to finally meet you face to face."

Sam didn't relax, instead, the idea of being in the Medical Center in the Capitol only added to his anxiety.

"As for your brother," the Gamemaker continued, "I assume he is on his way back to your home District by now."

"Dean's alive?" Sam asked and Azazel nodded, "He is our newest Victor."

Sam frowned, looking down, "But… I'm not dead."

The last thing he remembered from the Arena was an agonizing pain in his leg when that invisible monster had grabbed him from Dean and being dragged towards the forest. Sam had cried out desperately for his brother, too weak to fight the monster himself, before passing out.

"I was actually hoping you would win, Sam," Azazel said, "But, alas, I had to tweak my plans ever so slightly when I realized that both you and Dean were still alive at the end. So I had one of my muttants drag you away and had the cannon sound so everyone would believe you'd been killed."

Sam stared at the man, "Why?"

Why was he so important to Azazel? The man wasn't even from District Twelve so why should he care so much about him? The only people who cared about Sam were his father, his brother, Missouri Mosley and the Harvelles.

"We may never have met one another before," the Gamemaker said, "But we have a special connection, you and I."

Sam's brows furrowed in confusion. He didn't know what Azazel King was talking about and it made him nervous.

"It was before you were born," the man began, "but I've visited District Twelve many times- the other districts as well- but I was always drawn to your home district more than any other.

"I met a young woman in the district, one of the Merchant's daughters and fell in love with her. Unfortunately, she did not feel the same about me. I tried to convince her to go to the Capitol with me but she refused. I understood, she'd only ever known District Twelve and was reluctant to leave the security of the familiar. I was patient though, whenever I returned to the district I begged her to leave with me, I could give her everything she ever wanted if she would only say yes but she was nothing if not stubborn."

Sam listened, trying to figure out what exactly this had to do with him.

"When I visited the District after some time of being away, I found out that the woman I loved had married another man, a miner," Azazel said, sneering in contempt.

"That bitch could have had everything! But instead she married a common miner! Someone even below her status!"

Sam cringed back, frightened by the intensity of the Gamemaker's anger.

"Then she gave birth to a bouncing baby brat," Azazel continued, "And everything was just perfect."

"What happened?" Sam couldn't help but ask and flinched when Azazel grinned toothily at him.

"Her poor husband met with an accident in the mine," the Gamemaker told Sam, smugly, "One of the shafts collapsed. Oh, he was pulled out but the damage was done. He wasn't going to make it, not without superior medical attention.

"I just so happened to be in the district again, on business, and heard of the collapse and the woman's plight. Knowing she had a young son to look after already and what would happen if her husband died of his injuries, I offered to help," the man told Sam, looking like the cat that had eaten the canary.

"At first she was reluctant to my terms but without any other option, she finally agreed. Her husband was taken to the Capitol and received the best medical care available."

Sam waited patiently for the Gamemaker to continue, wanting to know if everything turned out for the woman and her family.

"Nine months later, another son was born," Azazel said, looking as though he was having difficulty holding in his glee.

"My son," the Gamemaker said and Sam frowned.

He wasn't a little kid, he knew where babies came from, he was just curious to know who Azazel King's son was, if he had maybe seen him at school and hadn't even noticed.

"Who-" Sam began to ask but the Gamemaker held his hand up, "I'm not finished the story yet. Don't you want to hear the end?"

Sam shrugged, "I guess."

"When I heard that the woman had given birth, I went back to the district one last time. I wanted to see my son. The mother, however, didn't want me to. She kept my own son away from me!" Azazel spat the last sentence and Sam cringed back.

"What I did next," the Gamemaker said, "is actually very famous in your District. I set fire to one of the abandoned houses in the Seam in my rage."

Sam's mouth opened in an 'o' of shock. No one had ever figured out exactly how that fire had started, the fire that had killed his mother when he had only been six months old.

"That bitch got what she deserved," Azazel growled, "Unfortunalty, I had just been promoted to Head Gamemaker shortly before and I was forced to return to the Capitol without my son."

The man seemed calmer now and smiled at Sam, "A day hasn't gone by where I haven't thought about my son; what he looked like, what his favourite foods were, was he confident like me… well, now that wait is finally over, after all these years, and I couldn't be happier."

Azazel fell silent as though waiting for something and Sam frowned.

Why had Azazel told him all this? There had to be a point to-

Sam's head snapped up, eyes wide in horror.

No! No, that couldn't be right!

"I knew you were smart, Sam," Azazel praised and the boy felt sick to his stomach.

"You… You…" the twelve-year old stammered.

"I'm your father," the Head Gamemaker said, spreading his arms out, "My blood runs through your veins."

Sam groaned and closed his eyes, certain he was going to vomit.

"I knew I had to meet you, even if it took years and I was patient," Azazel said, "When the Quarter Quell was announced I knew what I had to do. I had the Head Peacekeeper in the district replace all the boys' names with just two: yours and your brothers. There were hundreds of them! You were going to be picked as Tribute for these Games, I guaranteed it."

"Wh-Why Dean?" Sam stammered, "Why put his name in?"

"I knew how much he cared about you and I couldn't risk pairing you with another boy who wouldn't lay down his life to keep you safe during the Games," Azazel told him, winking.

Sam wrapped his arms around his middle and closed his eyes. This wasn't happening. This had to be a nightmare.

"Now," the Gamemaker said, "You know the truth. I have something very important to ask you, Sam. Please pay attention."

The boy slowly looked up at Azazel. What did he want now?

"As there can only be one Victor and you are not allowed to return to District Twelve," the man told him, "You have two options. One, you can come with me and live in the Capitol as my son… or, you can be branded as a traitor and live a life of misery."

Sam shook his head, tears pricking the corners of his eyes.

Even if what Azazel had said was true and he was Sam's father, the boy could not- would not- go with him. He was a murderer; he was evil!

"Choose carefully, son," the man said, "You won't get a second chance."

"I'm not going anywhere with you!" Sam exclaimed, "You killed my mother!"

Azazel frowned, clearly not pleased with the boy's decision.

"I do not make idle threats, boy," the man warned, "Think carefully on this. I can give you everything you've ever desired, you wouldn't want for anything ever again. Can John Winchester say the same?"

"I know he loves me!" Sam exclaimed, "I don't even know you!"

Azazel scowled, clearly trying to keep him emotions in check, "Is that your decision then? You refuse me?"

"You're not my father," Sam ground out, "John Winchester is."

The Gamemaker nodded, sighing, "I had hoped you'd join me, Sam."

The boy stared as the man turned away from him and began walking away, back the way he had come.

Sam watched Azazel's progress, his chest heaving as he fought to keep from crying. He just wanted to go back home, he just wanted to be with his brother and father again.

The Gamemaker opened the door at the far side of the room but instead of leaving, he ushered others inside.

Four men dressed in black Peacekeepers uniforms stepped inside, marching straight toward the table Sam was sitting on.

The boy looked at Azazel, wondering if maybe the man was just trying to scare him- he was scared- but the Gamemaker was nowhere to be seen. He must have slipped out after the Peacekeepers.

Sam cringed back as one of the Peackeepers reached for him, grabbing his arm in one black-gloved hand and pulling him towards the side of the table.

"Let me go!" Sam cried out and struggled to pull his arm free.

The other Peacekeepers surrounded him, forcibly lifting him off the table and onto the floor. Two held Sam's arms tightly while the walked ahead and behind him, blocking off all escape.

"Let me go, please!" Sam begged, fighting against his captors uselessly.

The boy's cries fell on deaf ears; they began marching him towards the door, desensitized to this kind of reaction in their victims.

The Peacekeepers led Sam down a dull, grey hallway, his bare feet padding dully against the concrete floor and into yet another room.

This one was equipped with the same blue-tinged lights and stainless steel tables as the first but something was significantly different then the empty room Sam had woken up in. A woman wearing a long, white stood beside one of the tables, a large needle in her hand.

The Peacekeepers didn't even have to be asked; they knew exactly what to do with a traitor. Sam was lifted up and deposited on his back on the cold surface of the table, the men immobilizing him with straps across his chest and legs, his arms pinned to his sides.

The Peacekeepers retreated, giving the woman room. She stared down at Sam as though he was some kind of insect found in her garden. Like other residents of the Capitol, she had had surgery to enhance her features and when she smiled Sam saw that her teeth had been filed down to points.

"Hold still now," the woman advised and Sam groaned in pain as the tip of the needle she wielded sank into his neck.

SPN

I stared out the window, watching as the Capitol whipped past in a blur of rainbow colours.

I would be happy if I never saw that place again.

Wishful thinking only, I knew. Even though I was a Victor I wasn't through with the Capitol. I would still have to go on the Victor's Tour- the ridiculous tradition of having to visit every district and the Capitol to recite speeches that had been pre-written for me and make small talk with officials- and Mentor other kids during their own Hunger Games.

I felt sick to my stomach just thinking about the rest of my life.

"Dean?"

I looked up when I saw Bobby standing in the compartment's doorway, swaying slightly with the movement of the train.

"I brought you some ginger tea," he said, holding out a fine china mug, "You look like you need it."

"Oh… uh, thanks," I muttered and Bobby stepped into the compartment, closing the sliding door.

I took the offered beverage, sipping at it without really tasting it.

"Does it get any easier, Bobby?" I asked, "Mentoring kids you know are going to die?"

The older man shook his head, "No. I wish it did but it don't. Once I get to know 'em… it damn near feels like their my own sons and daughters I'm sending to the slaughter."

I nodded and lowered my head. As much as it still hurt to know that Sammy was gone, I was grateful to know that at least he wasn't there to go through this.

"Take it easy when we get back to Twelve," Bobby said, "You hear me? The Victor's Tour ain't for six months yet so you've got some time to sort yourself out."

I nodded, drinking some more of the tea.

"What about my talent?" I asked; all Victors had to display a talent or attribute that was of use to their district or was entertaining for the residents of the Capitol, something to show that they weren't resting on their laurels, so to speak.

"Don't worry about that right now," Bobby told me, "We'll get all that figured out later on."

I sighed and finished the ginger tea, handing the empty cup back to Bobby. Turning away from him I stared out the window once more. I heard the compartment door slide as the older man left.

Tears welled up in my eyes but I brushed them away roughly.

Instead of crying, I did something I knew would cheer up Sam if he were around to hear. Taking a deep breath, I began to sing, slowly, quietly, to try and ease the pain in my heart.

"Hey Jude, don't make it bad, take a sad song and make it better…"

SPN

Sam sat still, staring straight ahead as a woman in a brown dress cut his hair short and another in a blue dress clipped his nails down to the quick.

He was clothed now; his nakedness covered with a bright red shirt and trousers, the badge of an Avox, a traitor to the Capitol.

His throat and mouth ached, the boy swallowing reflexively even though it did nothing to reduce the pain, his tongue having been cut out by the sharp-toothed woman with the needle.

Once the women were finished with their ministrations Sam was led from the room and down the hallway only to meet up with the four black-uniformed Peacekeepers the boy had encountered after refusing to leave with Azazel King.

Sam didn't fight the men as they grabbed him, once again creating a barrier around him and walked down a narrow staircase into a large underground area where many gas-powered vehicles were parked. Sam had never seen such machines- automobiles; he recalled his teacher's name for them from school- but now could have cared less about them.

He was led towards one that was completely black, its rear end square and cumbersome-looking. One of the Peacekeepers opened the automobile's double doors and Sam saw that there were two benches along both sides of the vehicle, at the same height as chairs. Sam was pushed inside and made to sit between two of the men while the third took a seat across from them; the fourth closed the doors and headed to the front to drive.

Sam startled when the automobile growled and shook slightly, one of the Peacekeepers chuckling cruelly at his sudden fright.

The automobile slowly lumbered out of the parking area and into the bright light of day. Large windows, with smoked glass covered in squares of thin wire, gave a view of the streets of the Capitol as they passed.

The citizens of the Capitol seemed to know exactly what type of person was riding in the vehicle and Sam could hear passersby hissing and booing, calling out obscenities. The boy bowed his head low, tears welling up in his eyes.

W

Sam didn't know how long they had been driving before the automobile slowed to a stop and the Peacekeepers stood up.

Sam inched backwards into the corner, frightened. He didn't want to get out of the vehicle. One of the Peacekeepers turned around and grabbed his arm, roughly, dragging him forward.

The man who had been driving opened the double doors and the twelve-year old was pulled out of the automobile.

"Welcome to the rest of your life," the Peacekeeper holding Sam's arm told him and the boy looked up, eyes wide and terrified.

Author's Note:

Chapter title comes from a Thrice song of the same name.

Thanks to tired tazertrick, TigerInTheMoonlight, scooby31415, L.A.H.H, Shannon, and SPN Mum for reviewing.

Am I bad for leaving the story there? I am. I know it. Don't worry though; I am planning on a sequel to this story, for all those who are interested in reading- and hopefully the cliffhanger helps- so I am not so cruel as to leave it completely unfinished. I have other stories that I want to write first, so you'll have to wait to find out what happens to poor Sam and Dean in the world of The Hunger Games.

Please take a moment to leave a review, especially if you haven't before. I love hearing from you!