The Hunter Games (Supernatural/Hunger Games AU) [SADLY, ON HOLD]

Chapter 3

Lucifer walked around the square in his tight, light blue suit, and red horns glistening on his head, glancing around at the workers who were setting up for the Reaping. His red wings fanned behind him as he watched. Camera towers and a giant projector were stood up. Workers hosed down the steps up to the Hall Of Justice. Flags were hung up everywhere.

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"What if they did, huh? Just for one year, everyone just stopped watching." Lisa said to me. We were sitting on a hill over looking a valley. It was beautiful. The lush, green grass, a few colored flowers dotting the mound, the blue sky brushing along the horizon. I had my wings curled around us, the feathers ruffling in the breeze.

"They won't, Lis." I replied. I barely finished saying that before she was talking again.

"What if they did? What if...we did?" She tried to reason, glancing at me. I turned my head to look at her and slowly shook my head, shuffling my wings.

"Won't happen." I assured her, looking back into the forest.

"You root for your favorite, cry when they get killed, it's sick!" She said anyway.

"Lis." I interrupted. She turned to look at me.

"If no one watches, Then they don't have a game. It's simple as that." He thought out loud. I grinned at her.

"What?"

"Nothing!" I laughed.

"Fine, laugh at me."

"I'm not laughing at you!" I retaliated. She smiled. I grinned even wider, showing my teeth. We sat in a comfortable silence, listening to the breeze. Her smile slowly melted.

"We could do it, you know." She began, looking over at me. "Take off, live in the woods, we do anyway."

"As much as I want to, they'll catch us, Lis."

"Maybe not. Maybe they won't. They won't catch you, you can fly your feathery ass out of here any day." Lisa hoped.

"They'd cut out our tongues, or worse." I said to her. "We wouldn't make it five miles. I couldn't make it. They can fly, too. And they have about a billion of them on their side. It would be just me."

"You could make it five miles. You're one of them. You'd go that way." She muttered, pointing off into the forest. I let out a laugh.

"I am not one of them. I have wings, I have more strength, but I am not one of...them." I muttered. "I have Sam, and you have your brothers." I reasoned, not even thinking of John. Dad could take care of himself.

"They can come, too." Lis said. I snorted.

"Sam? In the woods? He can barely shoot a shotgun." Lis let out a laugh, too.

"Maybe not. You could teach him. He's an angel, too."

"You think I haven't tried? The kid's tiny. Can barely hold one. His wings aren't fully formed yet." I sighed, smiling fondly at memories of Sammy attempting and failing to hold a gun bigger than a pistol. "I'm never having kids."

"I might. If I didn't live here." Lis said after a while. "And yes they are! You said it yourself, they are fully formed at twelve years."

"You do live here." I said. "I just don't want a fledgling to get hurt."

"I know, but if I didn't." Lis said back, turning her head to look at me. "Oh, I forgot-" she went in her bag and fished out a small loaf of bread. He handed it to me. "Here."

"Oh my god! Is this real!?" I asked her, jumping up and breaking the bread. I took a whiff of the inside and sighed happily. My wings jittered out of happiness.

"Yeah, it better be. Cost me a squirrel." She muttered. I handed her one half.

"Happy hunger games." She said sarcastically.

"And may the odds be ever in you favor." I mocked in a light accent, taking a bite of the sweet-smelling bread. It tasted even better then it smelled. We sat in the field, eating our bread. The long plants and grass swayed in the breeze around us, the hills rolling in the background. A few trees stood short, also dancing to the rhythm of the wind.

"How many times was your name in today?" I risked, stealing a glance at her. He took in a breath before answering.

"Forty-two." She breathed. I stayed silent, staring at her. "Guess the odds aren't exactly in my favor."

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The market was packed. People were everywhere, folding clothes, sorting stuff, exchanging goods. The air was dark and musky, the walls a dark color to match the gloominess in the air. I was trading for a ball of twine.

"Thank you, sir." The old woman said, handing me the ball. I pocketed it and looked at the rest of her collection, finding a gold pin. The pin was of a creature, a human-like being with large, feathery wings. It was bent in a flight pose, curled up with its wings spread wide, smoke flying from its white tinted eyes. The pin was very detailed, showing the creature holding an arrow in a death grip.

"What's this?" I asked in a gruff voice, rubbing the pad of my thumb along the intricate ridges and trenches.

"That's an-" the sweet old lady paused for a second, seemingly deep in thought. "angel." Of course it is. I recognized the wings, they were black. Just like mine. Same shape, same size.

"How much?" I said after a while. The lady pressed her lips together and shook her head.

"You keep it. It's yours." She smiled. I pulled a small grin at her.

"Thank you." I muttered to her. She smiled even brighter at me. I examined the pin one last time.

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Mothers helped dress their sons, tucking in their shirts. Angels walked about, their white uniforms and big, white wings fanning out. Back at our place, Dad, Sam, and I were getting ready for the Reaping.

"Dad." Sam said quietly. Dad looked over at Sam.

"Oh, look at you!" I said in a mock voice, crouching down in front of Sam. "You look beautiful!" I tucked in his blue dress shirt better, earning a grin from my little brother.

"Shut up." He muttered.

"You've gotta tuck in your wings, little bird." I said, standing up. He did as he was told. I watched as his wings curled up and disappeared.

"There's something for you too, Dean." Dad cut in. I looked over at him.

"Awesome." I said simply.

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I scrubbed myself down in the tub, scraping away the grime and dirt from my skin. My wings were flown up to keep away from the water, but they dipped down.

"Shit." I cursed, stepping out of the tub and drying off. I sat on the edge of my bed and tugged at the damp feathers, gently rubbing them between the folds of my towel. I looked over my shoulder at the clothes on my bed, and almost groaned. Not because they were horrible, but because I pulled a little too hard on my feathers. As you might know, wings are very...sensitive. Not as in vulnerable. As in... I'll let you figure it out.

Anyway, I got dressed in the blue-button down and pants, trotting into the hallway and stopping by the mirror to fix my hair. Dad walked up behind me and smiled.

"I'm proud of you, son." He said, patting my shoulder. Sam was there, too. He smiled when I turned around and picked him up by my wings.

"You're light." I said, crossing my arms. He laughed in the bundle of feathers. I brought him close so I had my arms around him. He hugged me back. As I pulled away, I saw his smile reduce to a frown. I brought up a hand and ruffled his hair.

"Hey Sammy, wanna see what I got you today?" I asked him. He smiled and nodded. I went in my bag and pulled out the gold pin. I pressed it into his hand. "It's an angel. Like us. And as long as you have it, nothing bad will happen to you." He smiled up at me. I smiled back.