Chapter 8

Thud.

Sam raised his eyebrows in surprise as Jess's knife found its target with near perfect accuracy. "How did you learn to throw? I can't even do that."

Jess gave him a patronizing look. "Oh, and I suppose if the great Sam Winchester can't do it, then it must be impossible for anyone to do it."

"That's not what I meant," Sam protested. "It's just, where could you learn that in Twelve? People don't just go around teaching knife-throwing lessons."

She raised her eyebrow at him. "Where did you learn to shoot a bow, huh?"

"You should know, you've eaten enough of my squirrels."

"My point is, Winchester, that I have my secrets and you have yours. For both of our sakes, let's just shut our mouths and pray to God that what we know is enough to survive."

Sam chuckled. "Fine. But you need to teach me sometime, agreed?"

"Deal."

It was time to move to another station before the other tributes took notice of them. Sam figured it was best to downplay their strengths until they were actually in the arena. Until then, keeping a low profile would be well worth it. He shouldn't have even asked Jess to show him her knife skills, but really, he hadn't believed it until he saw it with his own eyes. Jess could throw a knife with deadly accuracy, which would be invaluable to her in the arena. She could even land some smaller game if she tried.

They moved to the camouflage station, which was barely even touched, and Jess showed off her painting skills by almost flawlessly painting her arm into a tree.

"It's not that hard, really," Jess said when Sam voiced his thoughts on how difficult it must be to paint like that. "If you can just get the shading right, and you understand what you're painting, then it's not hard at all."

"Yeah, whatever," Sam snorted. "Seriously though Jess, you're good. I think you have a shot in the Games."

Her smile faded somewhat. "That's sweet Sam, but have you seen the people we're up against? I'm three times smaller than most of them, for God's sake. I'll be dead in two minutes tops."

"Don't say that," Sam said gently. "You're smart, fast, you can throw a killer knife. You'll definitely be one of the top eight."

Jess gave him a long, searching look. "And what about you, Sam? What'll happen to you in the Games?"

There it was. The one thing they hadn't really talked about. Only one of them would make it out alive, and Sam wasn't exactly planning his coming-home party.

"Well, ah, I'll be okay. Don't worry about me." He smiled disarmingly, hoping she would be convinced.

But when did the Winchester family ever have good luck?

"Sam, you need to make it home, not me. My family doesn't really need me. But you have a dad and a brother who both want you back more than anything. My family loves me, but they'll move on. Do you think Dean will?"

The knot in Sam's stomach tightened painfully. "Can we not talk about this right now?"

Jess gave him a sad look, but she nodded. "Okay, but we need to talk more later. And you aren't getting out of it, Sam Winchester."

Sam's dimples made a brief appearance. Talking to Jess sometimes made him feel like he was being scolded by a mother. Of course, he would never really know what that was like, but one could imagine.

The rest of training was all a bit of a blur for Sam. It wasn't that he wasn't paying attention to the other tributes and his surroundings, it was more that the terror was starting to kick in full force and it was very difficult to see through a vague haze of fear all the time. But before he knew it, it was almost time to go before the judges and show off his skill, or lack thereof.

If he thought he was scared, Jess appeared almost catatonic. She was constantly tapping her fingers on something, her eyes darting around distractedly. Sam had had to pull her away from getting a knife to the skull at the end of the final practice when a tribute was showing off her knife throwing skills. Jess had walked in front of the target just when the tribute had released the knife. That seemed to jar Jess temporarily out of her daze, and Sam lead her away from the training center listening to her mutters of "That wasn't a good shot, I could do better than that," with a cross of amusement and worry. Sam was a worrier at heart, something Dean enjoyed teasing him for, and he was extremely concerned for Jess. She couldn't afford to be distracted like that in front of the judges or in the Games.

The day arrived, and Sam approached it with about as much cheer and positivity as Cas approached anything in life. Which was to say, he was less than thrilled about it. He hated doing anything he was good at in front of people, especially when they were judging him against twenty-three other much more skilled people. Sam was smart, very smart actually, and he knew that his odds of getting even a remotely good score were astronomically small. He wasn't especially good at anything, really. Jess would almost certainly impress the judges with her knife-throwing, which would be even more impressive considering her size, but Sam wasn't naturally good at much. He was more skilled at laying snares and traps for animals rather than shooting a bow at them. He could shoot, and shoot pretty well, actually, but it was more Dean's area of expertise than his. His knife-throwing skills were good, but he didn't want to take that attention away from Jess.

He sat waiting with the other tributes, listening to their names being called one by one and the room slowly emptying, until it was just him and Jess. Finally, his name was called.

Sam stood, his hands shaking until he curled them into fists and released them a few times. This was it. Time to see if he could get a good enough score that maybe a few people might consider sponsoring him.

"Good luck, Winchester," Jess said with a faint smile. "Show off your bow skills and you'll do fine."

"Good luck to you too," Sam replied, matching her smile. "Paint your arms and throw some knives. They'll love you." With that, he left the room.

When he arrived in the gymnasium, it was obvious that the judges were totally smashed, having had to watch twenty-two other tributes show off their skills with deadly weapons. Sam repressed a groan. He would be lucky if even one of them paid close enough attention to actually give him a score.

He headed immediately over to the archery station and selected a bow. He gave the string an experimental tug and was disappointed that it didn't feel like the one he had at home. It was too tight, and the arrows were different. As he strode over to the dummy in the center of the room, he was already mentally adjusting how he would shoot, how he would stand. Sam fit an arrow to the bow and pulled the string back, aiming directly for the dummy's heart. He aimed a few inches more to the left than he would normally, and let the arrow fly. It landed with a solid thump right in the heart. Without even taking the time to blink, he spun on his heel and aimed another arrow for the shooting range across the room, firing the arrow. Not a direct bullseye, but close enough to be impressive. He fired three more, one after the other, and the last one landed on the bullseye.

He was doing it, Sam realized. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see more of the Gamemakers paying attention to him, and they looked intrigued. Sam went over to the knife station and grabbed a few smaller knives. He wouldn't steal Jessica's glory, but he do just enough to show the judges that he could do more than shoot a bow. He went back to the dummy and threw the knives, all of them striking near the heart.

Sam was finished. He stepped back and faced the Gamemakers. Most of them were facing him, and there was no disinterest or scorn on their faces.

"Thank you for your time, Mister Winchester. You may go," one of them said, giving him a polite nod. Sam nodded back, feeling awkward. He turned to leave, but as he passed the archery section, he couldn't resist one last shot. He grabbed the bow, strung it, and fired at the punching bag. It hit it square in the middle. Without looking at the Gamemakers, he turned and left the room.

A/N: MERRY CHRISTMAS GUYS! I had no excuse not to finally sit myself down and write something, and it is Christmas after all, so here's my little gift to you guys. I'm sorry it's kind of short, but I couldn't really make it any longer or end it any other way. I'm trying to get this story moving along a little more and not focus so much on the drama, because I know that gets boring to read after a while. I really hope you like this chapter and you aren't bored with this story yet. I'm not planning on abandoning this fic anytime soon. Have a fantastic Christmas everyone, and thank you so much to everyone who favorites/follows/reviews this story. Every time you leave a review it encourages me to keep working on this. I'm not writing it just for me, I'm writing it for you guys too, so don't be afraid to give me positive criticism. I try to write what you want to read, after all. So again, MERRY CHRISTMAS, and have a great holiday. Love you all!