A/N: Yes, this is a Hunger Games AU. I got the idea from a tumblr post, and I imagine this is going to be quite a long fic. Suggestions and reviews are much appreciated, and I hope you enjoy it.

Dean sat in front of the television, knuckles white with tension as he gripped the edges of the wooden chair he was sat on. It was the first day of the Games, the first day in the arena, and today's battle would be the bloodiest of them all. The countdown flashed on the bottom of the screen, counting down the seconds until the Tributes would be able to step off of the metal circles. The camera panned across the arena, stopping for a few seconds on each tributes face. His heart clenched when he saw Sam, his twelve-year-old brother, stood ready to run away from the cornucopia. That was the advice he has given Sam before they had taken him away. The gong rang out, and Dean saw Sam freeze for a second, before jolting forward towards the cornucopia. He's going for the weapons, Dean thought, leaning closer to the screen, willing Sam to turn around and run the other way. He knew that Sam had made a fatal decision, but there was nothing he could do to stop it. Half of the tributes had reached the cornucopia before Sam, and had already begun to fan out, attacking every tribute in sight. Sam didn't see the knife flying towards him, and Dean could do nothing but watch as it embedded itself in Sam's head. All his life he had protected Sam, but he couldn't protect him from this. "Sammy!"

Dean woke up in a cold sweat, panting. His heart was hammering in his chest, and his hands were shaking as he pulled the bed sheets away, stumbling out of bed. "Sammy?" He croaked, scanning the dimly lit room for Sam. When he couldn't see him, Dean left the room, opening the door to the large room that represented the rest of their house. His father sat slumped in a chair, surrounded by papers. Dean walked past him and opened the door to the porch, where he found Sam sat, staring out at the field near their house.

"Happy Reaping Day," Sam said, trying to hide his terror, but his voice cracked, giving it away. Dean sat down beside him, attempting to push the thoughts of his dream away. This year's Games haven't even started yet, he thought, and this is Sammy's first year of being eligible, there's no way he'll be picked. Dean shook his head, and turned towards his brother.

"Ready for today?"

Sam sighed and shrugged his shoulders. Dean noticed the dark circles under his eyes, and the way his hands shook as he picked on a loose thread on his shirt. "You'll be okay, Sammy. You know I'll always protect you, right?" Sam nodded, and Dead couldn't help but notice how skinny his brother was. "Have you had breakfast yet?" he asked.

Sam shook his head, "I was waiting for you." Dean stood up, and put a hand out to Sam, pulling him up and leading him back inside the house. Sam sat down at the table while Dean searched for food in the cupboards. All he could find was half a loaf of slightly stale bread. He sighed to himself, before turning round and smiled at Sam, pulling out a chair to sit on as he did so.

"Dad! Wake up, we have to go to the Reaping in an hour." John sat up, glaring at Dean for waking him up, before noticing Sam's slightly panicked expression.

"Worried about the Reaping?" he asked, accepting a plate of food from Dean. Sam nodded minutely, avoiding his father's eye. "Then man up!" he growled at Sam, slamming his hand on the table, causing Sam to flinch and Dean to freeze. "No son of mine will appear weak before the Capitol, do you understand?" Sam nodded, looking down into his lap as Dean sat down. When they had finished eating, the boys left the table to get dressed, leaving their father alone. As soon as they were in the next room, Dean walked over to Sam and wrapped him in a tight hug.

"It'll all be okay, Sammy. They won't pick you. Your name's only in their once. The odds are completely in your favour" he said, slightly twisting the words spoken by the Capitol representative every year at the Reaping. Sam stopped shaking and Dean pulled away, glancing down at his brother. "Are you okay now?" Sam nodded, turning away from Dean to change into his clothes for the reaping. Admittedly, they were Dean's old clothes, but Sam didn't mind. In fact, it seemed to calm him down just a little bit more. Once they were both dressed, they returned back to their father, who had changed into his own smart clothes, and they all sat at the table until quarter to eleven. In silence, they left the house, and joined the hoards of people in their way to the town square, where the Reaping would take place. John left them at the check-in without a word, and his way to the section where the other parents were stood. Dean pulled Sam into one of the check-in lines, and when they reached the desk, he announced "Sam and Dean Winchester" to the Peacekeeper, and pulled Sam away again as she noted down their names. "We're going to be separated now, Sammy. You have to go and stand with the other twelve-year-olds, but I'm still here. If it get's too much for you, just look for me. You'll be okay, Sammy!" He pulled Sam into one last hug before he was directed towards the group of seventeen-year-olds, and Sam was directed in the opposite direction.

The crowd was murmuring quietly, and Dean recognised many of the faces around him, most of which looked downright terrified. Sammy'll be fine, he thought to himself, before wondering how many of his own names were in the big glass bowl on one side of the erected stage at the end of the square. He glanced up at the cameras and screens suspended around the edges, and felt the hot sun beaming down uncomfortably on the back of his neck. The crowd went silent as two people emerged on stage; the mayor of District 12, and the Capitol representative, who after five years of attending reapings, Dean still didn't know her name. This year, she was painted completely white, so that she looked almost like a ghost, if it weren't for the garish shade of bright pink of suit and hair. The mayor walked up to the microphone, and began his boring speech about the history of Panem, and the Hunger Games. Dean zoned out quickly, and began scanning the crowd for the familiar flop of brown hair that signified his brother. There were too many people, however, for Dean to find him before the Capitol woman took over.

"Ladies first!" she said in her strange, clipped accent. She crossed the stage to the left glass bowl, and swirled her hand around a few times, before plucking up one of the little piece of paper, and opened it up. "Eliza Blackthorn", she called out, and the crowd parted to let a girl walk up the steps to the stage. Dean recognised her, she was in the year below him at school. She stumbled up the steps to the stage, shaking slightly as she did so. "Wonderful!" the Capitol woman said, smiling down at Eliza, before striding over to the second glass bowl. "And now… the boys!" She didn't waste any time swirling her hand around this time, she just picked the very topmost piece of paper, and unfolded it. She stepped back over to the microphone, and Dean's heart stopped. He didn't even have time to form a thought before she read out the name.

"Sam Winchester."